My husband and I were supposed to go skiing for Christmas. He bailed. He booked an entire ski resort for his old flame instead. She sent me a video from the slopes, her voice all soft and breathy, “I had no idea Julian would ditch you for me… I’ll make him make it up to you next time, okay?” I replied calmly: “Have a great time. Don’t worry about the money.” Oh. She probably doesn’t know that the resort Julian booked? I own it. 1 When Julian got home, I was reviewing the quarterly profits for that exact resort. He walked in and handed me a gift box. “Stella, a present for you.” A green box. The complimentary gift for guests who spend over ten thousand dollars. I didn’t even have to open it. I knew it was a green, Christmas-themed snow globe. I looked up. “Have fun with Chloe?” He flinched—just for a second—then sighed, as if he was relieved. “So you found out. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to overthink it. “Chloe’s going through a nasty divorce, she’s in a bad place. I was just keeping her company. It’s not a big deal.” “Oh.” I nodded, my eyes still on my laptop. He stared at me, frowning. “Are you mad? Over this?” His voice was getting impatient. “Stella, that’s enough. I just got back. I’m tired.” He went to the bathroom to shower. His phone, left on the coffee table, lit up. A new message from Chloe. [Julian, is Stella mad? Should I explain it to her?] [But what if she gets even angrier seeing me?] For the first time, I saw the contact name he had for her: Little Miss Drama. Unlike me. In his phone, I was, and always had been, Stella. My full name. 2 I was the one who replied to Chloe. [No need to explain. Just apologize.] I sent it as a voice memo. [A wire transfer is the most sincere way.] Another voice memo. Chloe didn’t reply for a long time. And she definitely didn’t send any money. Julian came out of the shower, toweling his hair, and glanced at his phone. Then he looked up at me. Just then, Chloe’s reply finally came. Timid. [Stella? Why are you answering?] [Did you and Julian fight because of me? Please… please don’t fight. I’m the one who asked him to come…] Julian listened to hers, then played mine. [No need to explain. Just apologize.] [A wire transfer is the most sincere way.] He listened to mine twice. His face darkened. “Stella, is money all you care about?” “What else?” I asked, surprised. “You?” I opened the green box he’d given me, running a finger over the green, glittery peak of the globe. “And get a freebie from your spending on another woman?” Julian froze. The anger on his face turned into awkwardness. “The flight was a last-minute thing. I didn’t have time to get you a real gift. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” “Oh,” I nodded. “Cash is fine.” “Stella!” he snapped. I just looked at him, confused. I had no idea what he was so angry about now. We stared at each other for a long time. Finally, he gritted out, “You’re unbelievable.” He stormed off toward the guest room. SLAM. “…” Psycho. 3 Early the next morning, I was in the bedroom packing for a business trip. The second Julian opened the guest room door, his face went dark. “Stella, what are you doing? “Are you seriously running away from home this early? Is this ever going to end?” I frowned. “I have a business trip.” His expression softened slightly. He didn’t say anything. He just went to the bathroom. By the time he was done, I was dressed and ready. “Let’s go.” He blinked. “Go where?” “Your office. I need to pick up the proposal.” He finally remembered. The whole reason for the ski trip was that I was heading to Colorado to bid on the new mountain resort development. Halfway there, Julian turned the steering wheel. The car’s display lit up. Incoming call: Little Miss Drama. He instinctively glanced at me. I looked up. “Can’t answer?” He scowled. “Don’t be passive-aggressive.” He hit “accept.” Her voice chirped, “Julian, where are you? I’m all dressed and waiting!” Julian cleared his throat. “You should just grab an Uber. It’s not a good time for me.” Her voice faltered, then turned worried. “Julian, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” The car was silent. I laughed, softly. “Something did. His wife is in the car.” The other end went quiet for a long time. Then Chloe’s panicked voice came through. “Stella! I’m so sorry, I’m just causing trouble, I really didn’t mean anything, please don’t misunderstand…” “That’s enough.” Julian cut her off, frowning. He paused, and his voice softened. “Just get a car. I’ll see you at the office.” He hung up. He glanced at me while waiting at a red light. He hesitated. Then he explained: “Chloe’s living in a new place, it’s remote. It’s hard to get a car.” I almost laughed. “Are you looking for a ‘World’s Most Thoughtful Husband’ award?” Julian’s face instantly went blank. He stopped talking. 4 I printed a few extra copies of the proposal at his office. While I was having some tea, the office door was thrown open. Chloe stood there, her eyes red. “Julian, I still couldn’t get a car.” She was on the verge of tears, her wide, wet eyes fixed on him. “Is Stella still mad…? “So… can you still come pick me up…?” She looked devastated. “Does this mean… I can’t work at your company anymore?” I was sitting on the sofa, facing away from the door. I set my teacup down on the table with a clink. “Good tea,” I said, loud enough to be heard. Chloe’s face went white. She looked desperately at Julian. “Stella.” Julian’s voice was heavy, displeased. “You’re taking this too far.” In front of me, he buzzed his secretary. He had Chloe settled in a conference room first. Then he came back, locked his office door, and rubbed his temples. “Stop seeing her as a threat. She’s going through a divorce, she’s got no job, nowhere to live. I’m just… helping her out.” He made me laugh. “Just helping her out? “Helping her out so much she can just burst into your office without knocking? “Are the security and receptionists at your company dead? They just let strangers come right up?!” Julian’s expression cracked. “That’s enough, Julian. Stop being disgusting.” I sneered, grabbed the proposals, and walked out. Chloe was standing by the secretary’s empty desk. Our eyes met. She gave me a small, triumphant smirk. It was a look only another woman would understand. See? I’m taking your man. I stopped. I raised my voice. “Ms. Yao, what are you smiling at? Are you proud of yourself?” Her expression immediately shifted to panic. Julian pulled his door open. Chloe tugged nervously at her clothes. “I… I wasn’t smiling…”

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I was selected by the System. My assignment: redeem one depressed, suicidal husband. I refused. When he held a knife to his arm, I ignored him, threw open the window, and screamed at the top of my lungs: “My brand-new pearl necklace just broke! Oh my god, I literally can’t live!” My depressed husband, terrified I’d wake the neighbors, had to put the knife down to come and calm me down. “Shh, it’s okay. We’ll… we’ll buy another one tomorrow.” In the middle of the night, when he tried to sneak out for a “quiet walk” to the train tracks, I shoved my ice-cold feet into his pajama pants. “I’m freezing. Warm me up.” He yelped, jolted awake, and instinctively grabbed my feet, pulling the covers tighter around us. Later, even after we’d gotten used to each other, he still wanted to die. I was still indifferent. “Fine. But can you at least divorce me before you go?” He froze. “I have to get divorced to die?” “Obviously. How else am I supposed to get out of this hellhole?” He suddenly grabbed me, his arms locking around my waist. “Then I’m not dying. We’re not getting a divorce.” 1 I was, very unfortunately, chosen by the System and dropped into the life of Julian Wu’s wife. The wife of a dark, depressed, broody man. The System gave me the “great responsibility” speech, pleading with me: [Ms. Hayes, in this scenario, you can only return to your original world by successfully redeeming your wounded husband.] I yanked open the blackout curtains, letting the painful sun flood the room. I squinted at the empty air. “Why? “I commute two hours a day to a job I hate, work nine hours, and you expect me to come home and babysit a grown man out of killing himself? I want to kill myself.” So, when Julian had his little episodes, I generally pretended not to see them. After the System’s multiple warnings failed, it gave up. [Fine. If you can look at a man that handsome and not save him, you’re a lost cause, Fiona. Have fun.] With the System gone, I really stopped caring about his life or death. 2 Julian was a trust fund kid. His grandfather had left him a fortune, so he never had to work. He was the classic “I don’t want money, I want love” type. He had more money than he knew what to do with, and he was still depressed. And I, a corporate wage slave, was supposed to be the one to redeem this sad little rich boy. What a joke. Is a normal person’s life not a life? I didn’t have time for his existential angst. If he was going to be my husband, he could at least be useful. I wasn’t about to cater to him. Today, like most days, he was holed up in his studio. I hammered on the door. Annoyed, he finally pulled it open a crack, just one dark, sunken eye staring at me. “What.” His voice was flat. “I’m hungry. You. Cook.” My voice was flatter. “No.” He tried to slam the door. I jammed my foot in the frame and shoved it open. He stood there, all six-foot-two of him, staring blankly. His hair was so long it covered his eyes, showing only a sharp, pale jawline. He looked like a ghost, and it just pissed me off. “Go make dinner. Now. And then you’re getting a haircut. You look like a vampire.” Julian just stood there. I lost my patience, grabbed his wrist, and yanked. He stumbled forward, right into me, looking panicked. “Are you insane?” I brushed his greasy hair out of his eyes and, on impulse, stuck my own pink barrette in it. Seeing his whole, beautiful face, my anger faded. My voice softened. “Look, you’re my husband, right? I’m hungry. If you don’t take care of me, who will?” Julian blinked, as if the logic was new but… sound. He straightened his wrinkled shirt, pulled his sleeves down over the scars on his wrists, and went to the kitchen. “Chicken and rice again?” he asked, his voice muffled as he tied on an apron. I collapsed on the sofa. “Yep.” 3 How do you live with a mentally ill person? You just treat them like a normal person. After dinner, as he was clearing the plates, I grabbed his coat and blocked his path to the studio. “I did the dishes. Let me go back to my room.” He still had that cold attitude, but the pink cartoon barrette made it ridiculous. I couldn’t help it. I snorted. “Pfft—” “What are you laughing at?” His brow twitched. The first real expression all day. “You’re actually… kind of cute sometimes,” I said. He started to argue, but I put a finger to his lips. “Shh. We’re going. You’re getting that haircut. I’m not living with a ghost.” 4 Julian was angry. After the haircut, he stormed out of the salon and shoved the barrette back into my hand. “Here.” I looked at him. The haircut had transformed him. He was… beautiful. I had no idea why he was mad. But if he was going to pout, I wasn’t going to play. Our fancy suburban neighborhood was dead at night. We walked home, him in front, me behind, with the distance of a football field between us. He power-walked. I dawdled, spotting a stray cat and dog. “Here, kitty… hey, sweetie, c’mon…” A clean, pretty calico and a filthy, matted Samoyed. One had been a stray for a while. The other was freshly abandoned. The rule of strays is: “dibs.” I’d hit the jackpot. A cat and a dog. The Samoyed—I’ll call him Ghost—was wagging his tail so hard it was a blur. The calico—Pickles—was rubbing against my legs. I was giggling, and Julian, way up ahead, heard me. He stopped. With his new haircut, he looked less like a vampire and more like an off-duty model. “Why are you walking so slow?” he asked, annoyed. I cupped my ear. “What’s that? Sorry, can’t hear you from all the way over there.” 5 He stalked back, ready to argue, but then he saw the cat. His eyes lit up. He crouched to pet it. I blocked him. “This one’s mine.” He moved toward the dog. I blocked him again. “This one’s mine, too.” “Finders keepers, you know the rules.” His lips thinned. He thought for a second, then deployed my own logic: “We’re married. Community property!” “Oh, now you remember we’re married?” I said, dragging out the words. “What kind of married couple walks on opposite sides of the street?” He tried to argue. He just got red in the face. The System really miscast me for this “redemption” role.

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I died. A year later, I was reincarnated as an orange tabby. I was an orphan in my last life. My cat mom was the first to ever show me real motherly love. One day, she picked me up by the scruff and carried me to an apartment. The door opened, and I saw a familiar layout, and a familiar eight-pack… I swallowed. This was my ex-boyfriend’s house. My ex, Alex, skillfully opened a can of tuna, scratching me under the chin. “I’d love to adopt him, but… she’s afraid of cats.” He must have guessed what my cat mom wanted, but… wow. He moved on fast. I tried to curse him out, but all that came out was “Mrrow.” “Babe, who is it?” A male voice came from behind Alex. It was… familiar. Wait. Your new partner is a guy?? 1 I was reborn as a stray. My cat mom’s whole litter died except for me. When I was finally able to wobble on my own paws, she stared at me for a long time, then started grooming me, licking and meowing. I understood her. She said I had to be clean so a nice human would adopt me, so I could have a good life. I asked if she would come with me. She didn’t answer. She just bit the scruff of my neck and took off. Even though I was getting used to walking like a cat, I was still terrified of heights. First-person cat-view is no joke. The world is a dizzying, bouncing blur. My mom was fast, slipping through a gap in a fence and stopping at an apartment door. My head was spinning. I did a few circles and plopped over. My mom scratched the door. It opened. I looked up. Familiar apartment layout. Familiar eight-pack abs. “???” My fur stood on end. I sprang up. Alex must have just gotten out of the shower. He was just standing there in a low-slung towel, water dripping down his stomach. He crouched down, petting my mom with one hand and opening a can of cat food with the other. “Sorry, girl. Got held up. I didn’t put food out. Are you starving?” As he crouched, the towel gaped. Have some decency, man! My sharp critique came out as a soft, pathetic “mew.” Alex finally noticed me. “Is this your baby? He’s cute. I think I have some kitten formula.” He went to the kitchen. I stood in the doorway, peering in. The furniture, the layout… it was all exactly as I’d left it. I wondered how he was doing. If he ever… thought about me. While I was lost in thought, Alex returned with a small bowl. His warm hand landed on my head, and he gently rubbed my fur. I started purring. The last time he’d touched me like this, I was in a hospital bed. He was covering my eyes, whispering, “It’s okay, Zoe. You’re the bravest girl I know.” A wave of emotion I’d buried deep inside came rushing up. I let out a few choked mews, my eyes suddenly wet. I’d planned to find him as soon as I could walk, but my mom beat me to it. Get him to adopt me. The thought sent me stumbling toward him on my wobbly legs. My cat mom, seeing her chance, nudged me from behind. Alex froze, seeming to understand. He scratched her chin, murmuring, “I’d love to, girl. I really would. But… she’s afraid of cats.” I’d just started rubbing against his leg. Nope. This cat rescinds her affection. Request denied. 2 My cat mom had no idea what he’d said, but she could read the room. She meowed anxiously, pushing me back toward Alex, trying to show him how clean I was. I didn’t know how to explain. As far as I knew, almost no one in Alex’s life was afraid of cats. I certainly wasn’t; I adored them. Back in the day, I had a whole crew of strays that would walk me home, and Alex would always laugh and buy them treats. So who was “she”? It had to be his new partner. It’s been a year. He deserves to have his own life, to move on. No one stays stuck in the past forever. I looked up at him. He was tanner than I remembered, with dark circles under his eyes. But his eyes… they were still the same. Bright. Too bad the person reflected in them wasn’t me anymore. I tried to walk out, but my mom blocked me, picked me up, and deposited me back at Alex’s feet. Then she backed out the door. Alex sighed. It was a standoff. Just then, a familiar male voice called from inside. “Babe, what’s up~” Wait. Why is it a guy? A second later, my nemesis, Leo, stuck his stupid face out. “You’re feeding the strays? Just don’t bring them in. They’re full of germs. Disgusting.” Alex didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look surprised. He was used to it. Well, I wasn’t. I launched myself at Leo and gave him a full-on kitty-fu combo. What the hell! Who are you calling disgusting? You asshole, Leo! When I was alive, you fought me over everything, and now that I’m dead, you steal my boyfriend? My toe beans made a solid bap-bap-bap on his shin. Alex, afraid Leo would hurt me, scooped me up. “I think he knows you’re insulting him.” I spat at him. I started yelling at Alex, too. If you’d found a nice girl, I’d understand! But my nemesis? And a GUY? Are you trying to make me die all over again from pure rage? I tried to smack Alex, but my legs were too short. He just laughed and booped my nose. I hissed. Leo, however, was just staring at the spot I’d hit, frowning. “Just… wash your hands after touching that… thing. Or you’re not sleeping in my bed tonight.” Leo said it and vanished into the bathroom. The shower turned on. “I know,” Alex replied, his voice gentle. Okay. Okay. A year after my death, my boyfriend and my arch-nemesis are together. And from the sounds of it, they’re sleeping together??? When did this start? After I died? Or before? Either way, I have to get him to adopt me. I need to know what’s going on. 3 That night, I started exploring my new territory. Leo, wearing rubber gloves, pointed at me and yelled, “Alex! It’s me or the cat! Pick one!” Hearing Alex’s footsteps, I immediately flopped onto my side, weak. “Mew…” Alex rushed over and scooped me up, putting me in a soft cat bed. “Keep your voice down. He’s stressed from the new environment.” “Then send him back! I’ll buy more cat food for the stray, fine?” Not happening! “Mew~” I trembled. I was weak. I was pathetic. I wobbily stood up and did a little “please” gesture with my paws. Alex immediately stood in front of me. “Leo, calm down. Let’s talk.” “What’s there to talk about?” Leo stormed into the guest room and slammed the door. I gritted my teeth. Every piece of furniture in this apartment, I picked out. How dare he slam my door? Alex looked upset, too. He murmured a few things to me, then went to the guest room. He knocked and talked quietly for a long time before Leo finally opened the door. They both went inside. I hesitated, then crept over to the door to eavesdrop. Thank God for cat-hearing. Even though they were whispering, I could make out bits. “…you’re crazy! It’s a cat!” “I know, but she… she…” “You’re seriously sick. We are getting rid of it tomorrow!” “…” It was like a TV show with bleeped-out keywords. I couldn’t hear the important parts. I was pacing, trying to find a better angle. The door suddenly opened. I face-planted into the room. “Mrow~” Leo smirked at me. “Oh, eavesdropping now? I thought you were ‘stressed’?” “She’s just a cat, Leo,” Alex said, picking me up. “She knew what ‘disgusting’ meant, but she doesn’t understand this?” “Leo! What is wrong with you? It’s a kitten! It’s not even weaned!” “You better hope it’s just a cat.” I had no idea what they were arguing about. But I knew Leo was up to no good. Alex just held me and walked out, clearly angry. I looked back at Leo’s dark face, extended my paw, and very carefully, gave him the finger. The full, extended, single claw. He was probably the first person to ever be flipped off by a cat. But he didn’t get mad. He just… stared at my claw. What’s his deal? Is he a masochist? He hates me when I’m nice but gets quiet when I attack him? Alex put me back in the cat bed. Since I’d just shown up, he hadn’t had time to buy supplies. He dug through a closet and came back with a big, red, knitted scarf, tucking it around me. Are you kidding me, Alex? That scarf took me two weeks to knit, and you’re using it as a cat blanket? I mean, the cat is me, but still. It’s the principle. “Get some sleep. Goodnight.” Alex bent down and kissed the top of my head, his voice impossibly fond. If I wasn’t a cat, I’d swear I was back in the old days. 4 My name was Zoe Hayes. I grew up in a group home. Leo was there, too. He’s a year younger than me. We fought constantly. The worst time, I broke his arm, and he cracked my head open. The director said if we fought one more time, we were both out on the street. We finally called a truce. After high school, I got into a college a thousand miles north. Before I left, we had one last fight. He’d hidden my suitcase. He blocked the door, furious. “Zoe! I thought you were applying to schools down south!” “I did! I didn’t get in, I ended up at a state school up north! Are you psycho? Give me my bag, or I’ll punch you!” He just stared at me. So I punched him. I grabbed my bag, my hand throbbing, and left. I found out later he got into a college a thousand miles south. Whatever. Good riddance. I never went back. I worked part-time jobs through college to support myself. After I graduated, I worked a day job and a night job. I wasn’t just supporting myself. I was supporting my cat. I found Momo on the street. He was soaked, like he’d just been pulled from a river. I wrapped him in my scarf and was about to go when I heard splashing from the nearby pond. Another cat? I ran over. A guy was clinging to the bank, half in the water, too exhausted to pull himself out. I put Momo down and hauled him out. The guy looked up, his eyes dull with exhaustion, and then they focused on me. “I’m pulling you up, don’t let go.” He nodded and kicked. I’m strong. I yanked him onto the grass. He just lay there, panting. “Should I call 911?” “Is the cat okay?” We both spoke at the same time. We laughed. “No, I’m fine. Just need a minute.” “Okay.” I sat next to him, showing him Momo, who was trembling but alive. He drove us to the vet. Momo was fine. Just scared and an ear infection. I happily shoved the vet’s bill into his hand. “Good news! Father and son are both healthy!” He blinked, then laughed. “Glad to hear it.” My eyes landed on the soggy business card in his hand—”Alex Reed.”

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Before dinner, my husband suddenly asked, “What if we stop loving each other? Whether it’s because of someone else, or just… we fall out of love. What happens to us?” I hesitated for a long time. “Maybe divorce is the best answer. You could find someone else.” The truth was, I already knew. I knew about his unusual feelings for that other girl. And I’d already heard him tell her: “Don’t cry. We’ll have a future.” 1 He put his fork down. His face went hard. After a long moment, he forced a laugh. “Tess, I was just kidding.” It wasn’t a joke. I knew. I had known his love. Which is how I knew, with certainty, that what he felt for that girl was real. Earlier today, at the hospital. The doctor, who had been gruff and impatient, read my report and his whole demeanor changed. He lowered his voice. “Don’t be scared. It’s not late-stage. With aggressive treatment, this is manageable.” I was walking out with the diagnosis when I saw them. Liam’s arm was injured. The girl was looking at him, her eyes red with pain. “Why did I have to meet you so late? I can’t even take care of you properly.” Liam looked flustered. Blood was seeping through the new bandage on his arm. He said, “Don’t cry. I’ll give you a future.” The words hung in the air. He froze, as if he regretted saying them. But she believed him. Her nose was red. She looked up at him. “Really?” Liam just frowned. He didn’t speak. I didn’t stay to watch the rest. I know Liam. I know his boundaries. As long as he was married to me, his body wouldn’t cross the line. But his heart. I couldn’t control his heart. 2 I wanted to know. What kind of girl was she? What made her better than me in his eyes? I found her profile through his phone. I had to see for myself. I had to see the woman who had so easily destroyed eight years of my life. We survived long-distance. We survived the pandemic. We survived being broke. But we were defeated by a “better girl.” I found her on the university campus. She was exactly what you’d expect. Young, vibrant. An old woman was struggling to collect cans, her back bent. The plastic bag ripped, and empty bottles scattered across the pavement. The girl, in a cream-colored coat, ran over and helped her pick up every single one. She helped the woman carry the heavy bag all the way to the campus recycling center. I followed, like a stalker. Suddenly, footsteps rushed up behind me. A figure blocked my view. I looked up. Liam. His arms were spread, shielding the girl from me, his lips trembling. “Tess, it’s not her fault…” Not her fault. Then whose fault was it? Mine? The girl finally noticed me. She looked over, startled. Our eyes met. She quickly looked away. 3 In a coffee shop. Liam sat across from me, his eyes full of pain. He said, “Tess, I…” He couldn’t continue. I wanted to know, too. Now that I’d found out, what would he choose? Would he end it with the “better girl”? Or would he end it with me? He opened his mouth, and finally, the words came out, strained. “Tess, I… I don’t think I love you anymore.” I didn’t say anything. But my body betrayed me. My eyes burned. He panicked. “Don’t cry…” He just stared at me for a long time before pushing the napkin holder across the table. He let out a breath, like a man relieved of a heavy weight. “Tess, we got together when we were eighteen. It’s been eight years… “I know I’m an asshole. I’m scum. “But Tess… after this long, my love for you… it’s turned into something else. It’s family. “Neither of us can fight that.” I asked him, “And her?” Liam was silent. “Maybe that will change, too. “But… I don’t want to lie to you right now…” He looked up, his voice bitter. “I haven’t done anything… physical. If you want, we can stay married. “But… all I have left to give you is responsibility. And the rest of my time.” How could I describe that feeling? Sadness? Despair? I was a prisoner, drowning. I knew I was going to die, but I had to keep my eyes open and just… wait. We sat in silence. Finally, I spoke. “Let’s schedule a time. We’ll file for divorce.” 4 It was evening when I left the cafe. The sunset was a violent, blinding red. Across the street, someone was hovering. Liam saw her instantly and sprinted over. The girl flinched, her face pale. Liam’s voice was sharp. “Nina, what are you doing here? “I told you to go back to your dorm. Have you been waiting this whole time?” Nina glanced at me, her eyes full of apology. She looked down at her shoes. “I… I was worried about you…” His expression melted. “Don’t overthink it.” Suddenly… An indescribable bitterness flooded my chest. I really thought there was nothing left that could possibly hurt me. 5 “Don’t overthink it.” That’s what he said to me at the bus station, right after graduation. I was sobbing, terrified of the separation. Everyone said graduation equals a breakup. Who could guarantee a long-distance relationship? He turned and hugged me tight. “Tess, don’t overthink it. As soon as I’m settled, I’ll come see you.” The same station. He took a bus north. I took one south. I was in a second-tier city. My first birthday alone, he promised he’d be there. He wasn’t. At 12:37 AM. A knock on my apartment door. He burst in, breathless, and grabbed me. “I tried so hard to make it,” he panted, “but I’m still late.” I found out later he’d spent his last dollar on the bus ticket. He couldn’t afford a cab from the station. He walked. My apartment was eight miles from the bus station. I thought, this is my life. It has disappointments, but the happy endings will come, even if they’re late. I was wrong.

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The year I graduated high school, I watched my sister, Jane, steal my acceptance letter to Harvard. She replaced it with her own letter from the local community college. I saw her do it. And I did nothing. I let her forge the documents. I let her and my parents celebrate. Because in my last life, I didn’t. In my last life, I screamed. I exposed her lie. My reward was a beating from my parents. “You’re the older sister! Why can’t you let her have this? All she wants is a good future, and you have to snatch it away?” My father’s words, as he ripped my letter from my hands and gave it back to her. My mother was worse. “You’re too good for community college, is that it? Fine! You don’t have to go anywhere!” She tied my hands and feet with a rope. She sold me to Old Man Hawkins, the crippled widower on the edge of the county, to be his wife. Hawkins locked me in his root cellar. He wanted a son. I endured his torment until I couldn’t. I threw myself in the river and ended my life. Only as I was dying did I learn the truth. Why, if we were sisters, did they treat me this way? It turned out I wasn’t their daughter at all. And because I wasn’t their blood, I was treated like livestock. Heh. Thank God for second chances. The people who humiliated me, who broke me… they won’t get off so easy this time. 1 “June! Good news! The mailman came, our letters are here! This one’s yours.” My sister, Jane, handed me an envelope with a saccharine smile. I opened it. “Ms. June Miller, you have been accepted into our General Education program…” The letterhead was from some obscure state teacher’s college. My parents, hearing the commotion, rushed over. “Well, you actually got in?” my dad said. “Let me be clear. We’re poor. We can’t afford two college tuitions. If your school isn’t as good as your sister’s, you’re not going.” They immediately turned to Jane. “Janie, where did you get in?” Jane proudly held up her letter. The crimson seal of Harvard University was impossible to miss. She shouted, “I got into Harvard! I’m going to Harvard!” “I must be the top of our county! No, the whole state!” “Praise the Lord! We’ve got a golden goose in the Miller family!” My parents were ecstatic. My mother jabbed my father in the ribs. “Earl, what are you waiting for? Get the savings jar. We’re going to the department store in town to get our girl some new clothes!” Before he was out the door, she yelled again, “And get the good polyester, Earl! She’s going to the big city! We can’t have her looking like trailer trash!” It wasn’t just clothes. My mother made plans to slaughter our only hog for a huge “send-off” party for Jane. In her excitement, my mother finally noticed me. She twisted my ear, hard. “And you. All day, lazy, not doing your chores, hiding in the barn with those scraps of paper. And for what? A crappy little diploma? We wasted good pencils on you!” My ear felt like it was tearing off, but I didn’t fight back. This was my normal. I walked over to my sister. “Jane,” I asked, “can I see your letter?” She snatched it away. “No way! What if you get jealous and rip it up?” She looked me up and down, a smug little sneer on her face. “You know, out of everyone in our class, you studied the hardest. Reading by that kerosene lamp all night, getting soot all over your face. I bet your spit is black! “And after all that, you still did worse than me. If I were you, sis, I’d be so embarrassed I’d just die.” Her words made me cough. She was right about one thing. My lungs were probably ruined from the fumes. I had given everything to get out. And this was the result. 2 I was awake when the mailman came. Jane thought I was asleep. She snuck out and took both letters. When she saw I’d gotten into Harvard and she’d only gotten into the local college, her eyes went red. She stomped her foot in the yard. I watched her creep into the living room. She took a pen. She carefully added a single stroke to the name on my letter. Our names were almost identical. I was June. She was Jane. With one neat line, she changed my “u” to an “a.” She swapped the letters. She put mine in her pocket and handed hers to me. In my last life, I screamed. I called her a thief in front of our parents. My father slapped me to the ground. He didn’t just hit me. He kicked me, over and over, until I was silent. He grabbed my letter and handed it to Jane. “You’re the older sister! Why can’t you let her have this?” I tried to get up, but my mother tied my wrists. “You think you’re too good for that school?” she hissed, dragging me to the cellar. “Fine! You won’t go anywhere! It’s time you got married!” The money they got for selling me paid for Jane’s tuition. While she was being celebrated, I was being brutalized. While she was becoming a “Harvard woman,” I was drowning myself in a well. Now, I’m back. This time, I’ll let her have it. She wants my letter? She can take it. I want to see just how she plans to use it. The news that a Miller girl was going to Harvard spread through the county like wildfire. Kids from school started showing up at our farmhouse, carrying gifts. Bags of Hershey’s Kisses, glass bottles of Coke—things we never had. “Jane, my dad brought this back from the city. It’s real chocolate! Try it! I can get more!” “Janie, when you’re a big shot, don’t forget about us!” “A Harvard girl from our town! Wow. Don’t forget us little people!” Jane, wearing her new polyester shirt, held court, her arms full of treats. “Don’t you worry,” she said, beaming. “I’m not the type to forget my roots. When I’m successful, I’ll take care of all of you!” “I’m not like my sister. Wasting all that kerosene at night, pretending to study. And for what? A diploma from a community college! What a waste of oil.” They all turned to look at me. “Yeah, June was always the bookworm. Always muttering formulas in the field. And she still failed.” “I bet she was just faking it! Acting all high and mighty, ignoring everyone. Well, her own sister put her in her place!” “We’re all just poor farm kids, but she always acted so stuck-up. Just because she was dating the mayor’s son…” “Shh! Speak of the devil… Cody’s here!” I looked up. A young man in a crisp button-down shirt was walking toward the house. 3 It was my boyfriend, Cody. I stood up, my hands clenched. In my last life, after I escaped the cellar, I ran. I ran fifteen miles, my shoes tearing, until I got to his house. I told him everything. I begged him to get his father, the mayor, to help me. His father went to my house. He came back an hour later, told my parents where I was, and let them drag me away. He didn’t believe me. He just wanted his son away from “trash” like me. When my parents grabbed me, Cody just stood there. I clung to him. “Cody, please, don’t let them take me. Please.” One word from his father, and he let go. “June,” he promised, “you just go home. I’ll figure this out. If what you’re saying is true, I’ll make it right.” I waited. I waited until I was tied up and handed over to Old Man Hawkins. He never came. Two months later, I heard he and my sister were engaged. And now, here he was. He looked at me, his face full of pity. Then, he turned away and walked right to Jane, handing her a box of canned peaches. “Congratulations, Jane. This is just a little something.” Cody was tall, handsome, and powerful. Every girl in town wanted him. We’d promised we’d both get out, go to the city together. Now, he was going to a state university. And I… I wasn’t going anywhere. Jane linked her arm through his. “Cody, you shouldn’t have! You’re too sweet.” Cody glanced at me again, but he didn’t pull his arm away. “My dad was real impressed. He said you’re the county’s pride. He’d like you to come over for dinner.” The other kids gasped. The mayor’s house. I’d dated Cody for two years, and his father had never once acknowledged my existence. Jane giggled. “I’d love to! Cody, I heard you’re going to college in the city, too. We can ride the bus together! We’ll have to look out for each other.” She shot me a look of pure triumph. I just lowered my head. I went to the backyard. Cody followed. He grabbed my arm. “June, listen. It’s just my dad. I have to do what he says!” “I really do like you, June, but… our stations are just too different. I thought if you got into a good school, he’d accept you. But… a community college?” His words made me want to laugh. “So you believe it, too? That’s all I’m good for?” “No! That’s not what I mean!” he said, flustered. “But this is the reality. You can study all you want, but you choked when it mattered. You’re just… you’re not on her level.” From the doorway, Jane called, “Cody! Mom’s serving pie! Come get some!” Cody looked at her, then back at me. “June… if you’re looking for someone to blame, blame yourself for not being good enough.” He turned and walked back to her. Jane took his arm again, this time resting her head on his shoulder, smiling at me. I smiled back. A cold, thin smile. Enjoy it while you can, Jane. You’ll be crying soon enough. 4 My best friend, Maria, was furious. “Look at that snake! Everyone knows you and Cody are a couple, and she just… just takes him! And she’s the Harvard girl? I spit on that!” She looked at my letter. She squinted. “June… wait a minute. Look at this! The ink on the ‘n’ in your name… it’s darker! It looks like someone wrote over it!” She gasped. “Oh my god. You don’t think… this is her letter, and she faked your name?” She was loud. Jane looked over. Even facing exposure, she didn’t flinch. She just gave me a smug little wink. That night, after everyone left, Jane sat at the table, eating Cody’s canned peaches. “Mmm, so sweet.” She waved a piece of paper in the air. “Guess what I have, sister? All the paperwork. The birth certificate, the forms… everything I need to enroll.” “It doesn’t matter what your grades were. I’m the one going to Harvard.” She glanced over my shoulder. I didn’t have to look. I knew my parents were standing in the shadows of the hallway. They were all in on it. If I fought back now, they’d drag me to the cellar. I just stayed silent. “My party is tomorrow, sis,” Jane cooed. “The mayor and everyone important will be there. You’d better be on your best behavior. Or…” She leaned in. “Or I’ll have Mom and Dad marry you off to Old Man Hawkins. He’s sixty, but he still wants a son. You’d be perfect for breeding.” The name made my stomach turn. My past life… the filth, the ropes, the pain… My eyes went red. Jane just patted my clenched fist. “You should thank me, June. Without you, I’d never get to go.” I forced my face into a smile. “You’re welcome, Janie.” She made one mistake. She needs me for this to work. And that’s why she’s really not going anywhere. The next day, our farm was chaos. My parents had hired a local band. They’d invited the whole town. Jane was wearing a sash that said “Future Harvard Grad,” her new polyester dress shining in the sun. Cody was there, right by her side. People were already calling them a couple. Maria was vibrating with rage. “June, are you just going to let her do this? Steal your school and your boyfriend?” I was perfectly calm. “Not yet. The best part hasn’t happened.” “What best part? Are they setting off fireworks?” I just smiled. Before the food, the mayor got up to speak. Then, he invited the “guest of honor, our state’s top scholar, Jane Miller,” to say a few words. Jane cleared her throat. Just as she was about to speak, two cars pulled up. Men in dark suits from the state capital got out. They pointed right at Jane. “Are you Jane Miller? The top scorer from this county? We have a report that you committed exam fraud.”

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I died. And I came back as a snake. A King Cobra… Every time I go to the creek to drink, I scare the scales off myself. I look intimidating. It’s terrifying. I was still getting used to my new body when, naturally, mating season arrived. You have got to be kidding me. I’m a sentient snake. I’m not just going to pop out a clutch of eggs for just anyone. Unfortunately, other sentient snakes had… other ideas. I looked at the short, dumpy Copperhead coiling up next to me. I warned him to back off. Or he was lunch. 1 “C’mon, baby. We’re the only two sentient ones around here. Who else are you gonna do it with?” the Copperhead lisped, flicking his tongue. Is breeding ALL you think about? God, so annoying. I’m just going to eat him. Gulp. Burp. Okay, that hit the spot. My new cobra DNA makes me want to eat every other snake I see. It’s either eat or die. An easy choice. I didn’t expect the Copperhead to be so… nutritious. No, that’s not right. He was full of power. So much power that I… I shifted. I had hands. And feet. I could stand up. This felt amazing. You have no idea how many times I accidentally tied myself in a knot when I was just a snake. I sprinted to the creek. I braced myself, took a deep breath, and leaned over the water. The reflection showed a beautiful woman. Thin, arched eyebrows, a straight, delicate nose, and lips that looked like they were stained with cherry juice. A perfect mix of fierce and beautiful. Finally. Something that wasn’t terrifying to look at. 2 “There. Seize her.” A rough voice shattered the moment. Seize… who? Before I could even finish admiring my new face, two… “people”… grabbed me and dragged me away. They hauled me into a cave. The tunnel sloped down, down, down, until it opened into a massive, breathtaking cavern. The walls were dotted with glowing moss, illuminating an entire underground city. In the center stood a huge, intricate palace. They dragged me inside. “Your Majesty,” one of them bowed. “We have scouted the territories. She is the only female who has shifted.” Oh, crap. Are they going to eat me? The man on the throne eyed me. His gaze was so intense it felt like he was skinning me. “A King Cobra,” he purred. “Hmph. Worthy of me.” He sounded… pleased. Worthy? Oh, no. He wants to breed, too. The Snake King rose and descended the steps, and as he walked, he shifted. His snake form coiled around me, displaying his colors. He was… a cobra. An albino. He was pale, almost pink. It was ridiculous. He looked like a piece of bubblegum trying to act tough. I scoffed internally. If I had his power level, I’d eat this little spicy noodle for breakfast. I couldn’t win a fight, but I’ll be damned if I lose the intimidation game. My turn. I shifted. I went full King Cobra. Sleek black scales, rising high, my hood flared. I made myself as big as possible. Let’s see who really looks like royalty. (Bet they didn’t expect the scary black one to be the female and the little pink one to be the male.) It must be instinct, because even though the King was powerful, he definitely flinched when I flared my hood. That’s right. Scared? I scare myself. The moment I transformed, all the guards just… left. Hey! Come back! Who am I supposed to be impressing? The pink cobra slithered over. His smug face clearly said, ‘Smart girl.’ He settled his weight on my back, his tail moving toward mine, searching. I froze. I understood. These disgusting, single-minded animals! I whipped my head around and bit him. He was fast. He dodged. I shifted back. He shifted back. “You—you—” I was sputtering, pointing at him, beyond furious. He flicked his royal sleeves. “You dare refuse me? Why do you think I brought you here?” He was actually offended. “Did you even ask?!” “I am your King. I do not need your permission.” He narrowed his eyes. Ugh. So oily. So gross. “Why are you all so obsessed with breeding?” I demanded. “For lesser snakes, it is instinct. For us, it is survival. For a thousand years, our kind has been dwindling. A shifted female is a miracle. If our enemies attack, who will defend us?” He looked genuinely tragic. “That doesn’t mean you get to ignore consent! I’m not a broodmare!” “You will obey my command.” I was speechless. Arguing with a dictator. Pointless. I was trying to think of a new plan when several more men walked in. 3 “Brother, you can’t hog her.” “Indeed. A new female after a century… she belongs to the clan.” “She is my female.” In a flash, the King was a giant pink cobra, ready to fight. The others shifted, too. I was about to sneak out, but… wow. His brothers were a motley crew. A green one, a black-and-white banded one, a yellow-and-black one… their dad must have really gotten around. “Stop.” The voice was deep, magnetic. It stopped them, and it stopped me. “Father.” They all shifted back, bowing. Oh. So that’s Dad. I looked him over, trying to guess his species. He was gorgeous. He looked timeless. Rugged, wild, but his eyes were incredibly kind. He had long, pure white hair. He was massive, probably seven feet tall, with shoulders a yard wide and a narrow waist. He walked toward me, and the pressure in the room was intense. “Young lady, my sons are… eager. I apologize if they frightened you.” His aura was… wow. Warm, powerful, magnetic. It made you want to submit. It was… very alluring. I shook my head. Nope. Not laying eggs. Not for anyone. “Why are your sons all different species?” The words just fell out of my mouth. He just chuckled, not offended. “They are adopted. Foundlings.” “Oh. So… what species are you?” “You’re very direct, aren’t you?” he teased, avoiding the question. “What’s your name, then?” “All snakes are my children. You may call me Father, like the others.” Hard pass. I am not calling this guy “daddy.” I rolled my eyes. “Settle her in. Be respectful,” he ordered them, and then… vanished into thin air. “Yes, Father.” They all bowed. With him gone, they all stared at me again. “So, uh… big brothers… can I go now?” I tried. The green one, Qingfeng, laughed. “Not a chance, little sister. It’s mating season. You’re safest in the palace.” He pointed. A servant girl appeared. She was… a rabbit. A rabbit working in a snake pit. Gutsy. “Are there any other female snakes here?” I asked her as she led me away. “No, my lady.” “Why not?” “For a thousand years, the lands have been too hot. Almost all hatchlings are male. You are the first female to shift in a century.” This was bad. “What’s the deal with the ‘Father’?” “I cannot speak of the Master.” “C’mon. I won’t tell. What’s his name?” The rabbit girl looked terrified. “He’ll never know.” “No one… no one knows what he is,” she whispered. “We only know his name… Kaelen.” Kaelen. Nice. “Why isn’t Kaelen king?” “He was. He gave the title to Lord Kai to manage the clan’s affairs so he could retreat and meditate.” Kai. The pink noodle. 4 I trained. Hard. I was not going to be someone’s incubator. The palace had ancient texts. I progressed quickly. One day, I overheard the rabbit-girls. “Did you hear? The ten-thousand-year Sunroot… it’s finally mature. The Masters are all going to get it.” “Whoever eats that becomes a demigod.” A demigod. That’s how I get out of this. I found the rabbit, sweet-talked the location out of her, and snuck out. I didn’t see the flash of green scales watching me from the shadows, a slow smile spreading. As a King Cobra, they also call us “Mountain Wind.” I’m fast. I found the Sunroot. No guards. Weird. Whatever. I ate it. Wow. Power surged through me. But… I also felt hot. Really hot. “Was it good, sister?” Qingfeng. He was leaning against a tree, smirking. It was a trap. “It was… fine.” My voice was shaky. The air was getting hotter. I suddenly had the urge to… breed. What was happening? SMACK. I slapped myself. Hard. Qingfeng just watched, amused. “Don’t fight it, sister. For our kind, the Sunroot… it’s a powerful aphrodisiac.” The bastard. He set me up. I went for him. Ten moves later, I was pinned. A King Cobra, beaten by a… whatever he was. Humiliating. Fine. I’ll play his game. My eyes glazed over. I’d pretend to give in… and when he was distracted, I’d kill him. It was harder than I thought. The heat was overwhelming. I had to bite my own tail, hard, just to stay focused. The moment he let his guard down… I struck. I sank my fangs into his neck and emptied my venom sacs. He shrieked, lashing out, and his tail slammed me into a cliff. I felt ribs crack. I spat blood. But I watched. He twitched. He died. Jerk. The heat was still burning, overriding the pain. I shifted, unhinged my jaw, and swallowed him. I hadn’t eaten this well in a long time. The power from the Sunroot and Qingfeng hit me all at once. I was overheating. Crack! Thunder. A storm just for me. My tribulation. Crap. I was too injured to move. BOOM! Lightning hit me. Searing, agonizing pain. It hit me again. And again. I was just… fried. Toast. I failed. My soul was drifting, being pulled toward the light… Then a stronger force grabbed me, yanking me back. I forced my eyes open. Kaelen. His power… it felt like a liquid core… was inside me, knitting me back together. “Sleep,” his voice echoed. “It was self-defense. You are not at fault.”

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When I took the refund form to my manager for his signature, he slammed his hand on the desk and pointed a finger square at my nose. “An $8,000 refund? What the hell kind of job are you doing? Ben over there only had $700 in refunds, Lily only had $300! Even Chris, who had the most, was only at $1,000. How is it that you have this much?” I patiently explained, “Ben’s total prepayments were only $6,000. Lily’s were $3,000.” “My prepayments totaled $200,000.” “In terms of percentage, my refund rate is the lowest in the department.” “Don’t give me this percentage nonsense! I’m looking at the bottom line!” he roared. “They’re refunding $300, and you’re refunding $8,000. And you have the nerve to ask for my signature?” “This is coming out of your salary. The company is not paying for your incompetence!” Half an hour later, our largest client sent over an urgent project proposal. My manager, Mr. Miller, handed it to me. I looked at him calmly. “Mr. Miller, based on your assessment of my performance half an hour ago, I believe my incompetence makes me unfit to handle such an important task. It would be best to avoid causing the company any further losses.” 1 Our company, Summit Creatives, had a system where clients could book a planner up to six months in advance to secure their spot. To sweeten the deal, the policy stated that clients could get a full, no-questions-asked refund at any point before the official planning work began. As the company’s senior planner, I had the most bookings. Naturally, that also meant I had the highest total refund amount. A lot can change in six months. Before launching this system, our risk assessment department had projected a refund rate of around 10%. My actual rate was 4%, yet it had somehow sent my manager into a blind rage. After being kicked out of his office, I had barely sat down at my desk when my phone buzzed with a notification. Direct Deposit Received: $500.00 It was immediately followed by a message from the head of accounting. [Per company directive, the $8,000 loss you caused through negligence will be deducted from your monthly salary. However, in consideration of your living expenses, the company has decided to leave you with $500 per month. Please consider this a gesture of the company’s humanitarian concern.] I stared at the message. My monthly salary of $10,000 had been reduced to a mere $500. My blood ran cold. Humanitarian concern? What a joke. A moment later, the same message, slightly rephrased, was posted in the company-wide Slack channel. [@channel: Planner Grace Adler, due to personal error resulting in an $8,000 loss, will have this amount deducted from her monthly salary to serve as a warning to others. In the spirit of humanism, the company will continue to pay this employee a stipend of $500 for living expenses until the $8,000 is fully repaid.] The office went quiet as my colleagues read the announcement. Heads slowly turned in my direction. I saw a mix of pity, shock, and a few poorly concealed smirks. It didn’t take long for the sycophants to chime in on the Slack channel. [Wow, still making sure an employee who messed up has living expenses covered. Our company really is like a family!] [Mr. Miller is so considerate! Grace is so lucky to have a manager like you!] I typed a cold reply: [You can have my good fortune if you want it.] The channel went silent. A minute later, Mr. Miller responded directly: [@Grace Adler Are you suggesting you shouldn’t be held accountable for the $8,000 loss your mistake caused?] I replied: [Could you please specify exactly what my mistake was?] Complete silence. Ten minutes later, Mr. Miller posted another official announcement in the channel, his anger palpable in every word. [@channel: After an internal performance review, Senior Planner Grace Adler has been deemed incapable of handling significant responsibilities. Effective immediately, she is demoted to the position of Junior Designer. Her base salary will be reduced to $2,000 per month, and she will be ineligible for any commissions for the next three months.] I stared at the message and let out a cold, humorless laugh. Not only was the baseless salary cut illegal, but a $2,000 monthly salary was well below the state’s minimum wage. I quietly took a screenshot. Evidence. Mr. Miller then added another message: [On the other hand, look at Lily. She may be a junior planner, but her refund total was only $300. That’s a real team player who thinks about the company’s bottom line!] [She never angles for a fancy title, she just quietly gets the work done.] Lily quickly replied: [Thank you for the recognition, sir! I just try to work a little harder than everyone else.] Then, she added another jab: [Some people with $8,000 in refunds should be ashamed to even show their face at work. If it were me, I’d be too embarrassed to stay.] [Calling yourself a ‘Senior Planner’ might fool outsiders, but we all know it’s just an empty suit.] Mr. Miller was ecstatic: [Everyone, see the dedication Lily has!] [I expect all of you to learn from her example. Please reply with ‘Acknowledged’.] The “Acknowledged” replies started trickling in. Then, Mr. Miller tagged me specifically. [@Grace Adler Why haven’t you responded? Are you refusing to comply with company directives?] I slowly typed out my reply: [Acknowledged. I guarantee my refund amount will be $0 from now on.] It was an easy promise to keep. All I had to do was stop taking orders. With no commission for the next three months, why would I kill myself working? I immediately logged into the company’s booking portal and deactivated my profile. Let’s see who breaks first, me or Mr. Miller. I was browsing flights to the Maldives when the founder of our biggest client, Thorne Industries, walked into the office. Our company had an annual retainer with Thorne, a contract that accounted for a staggering $20 million of our yearly profit. Usually, Julian Thorne sent an assistant to convey his requirements. The fact that he came in person meant this project was of the highest importance. Thorne Industries was notoriously demanding. For years, every single one of their projects had been handled personally by me. The one time I was out sick, a team of ten other planners took a crack at their proposal and failed to produce anything that met his standards. In the end, I had to finish the project from my hospital bed. “You can rest assured, Mr. Thorne! We’ve been partners for so long, have we ever let you down?” Mr. Miller’s voice boomed from his office. “You just head back and wait. Three days. I guarantee we’ll have a proposal for you in three days!” Miller escorted a stony-faced Julian Thorne out of his office, practically bowing as he saw him to the elevator. Three days? Thorne’s events were always massive, complex undertakings. I was the only person in the entire company who could deliver a high-caliber plan on that kind of timeline. But since Miller had just demoted me, he surely wouldn’t be shameless enough to hand the project to me now. Right? The atmosphere in the office grew tense. No one wanted this hot potato. “What do we do? Mr. Thorne came himself. This project must be a monster.” “Who do you think Miller will give it to?” “Is it even a question? Who else besides Grace could possibly handle it? And did you hear him? Three days!” “No way. He just finished publicly humiliating her. He wouldn’t have the face to ask her now.” “I bet he gives it to Lily. She got all that praise today.” Lily’s face went white with terror. “I have too many clients right now, and several urgent deadlines of my own. I don’t have time…” I had to laugh. She had only booked $3,000 in prepayments over the last three months. What deadlines? The truth was, she was terrified to take it. The commission on a Thorne project was enormous, but everyone knew it wasn’t easy money. They might have been jealous of my bonuses, but none of them ever had the guts to actually volunteer for the job. Mr. Miller returned from the elevator. With every step he took, the air in the office grew heavier. Everyone stared intently at their screens, praying they wouldn’t make eye contact. But we had all underestimated the thickness of Mr. Miller’s skin. He walked straight to my desk. “My office. Now.” A wave of whispers followed me. “I knew it. It had to be Grace.” “You think she’ll take it?” “Of course, she will. She didn’t even fight back when they docked her salary for the $8,000 refund.” “She’s a doormat. No spine at all.” I ignored the whispers and walked into Mr. Miller’s office. He leaned back in his executive chair and gestured casually at a folder on his desk. “Thorne Industries is planning a client appreciation event. Take this file, look it over, and have the proposal on my desk in three days.” His tone, his posture—it was as if the man who had docked my pay and demoted me just an hour ago had never existed. I shrugged. “Sorry, Mr. Miller. I can’t do it.” He shot upright in his chair. “You haven’t even looked at the file and you’re already refusing? Is that the kind of work ethic we value here?” he snapped. “You know how important Thorne Industries is to this company! Are you really going to put your personal feelings ahead of the company’s best interests?” I looked at him with an expression of pure innocence. “It’s precisely because I understand their importance that I can’t accept this project. It’s for the good of the company.” “I’m just a junior designer now. How could I possibly create a proposal in three days that would satisfy someone as meticulous as Mr. Thorne?” “I think Lily would be a great fit for this. You should give it to her.” With that, I turned and walked out of his office. The moment the door clicked shut, I heard the sound of a mug shattering against the wall. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. The caller ID showed it was Mr. Davison, the Director from our corporate headquarters. Clearly, Miller knew he couldn’t bully me into submission, so he was calling in the big guns. I made a decision. If Davison was reasonable and offered a fair solution, I’d take the Thorne project. If he was calling to pressure me, then sorry, but the Maldives were calling my name. “Grace,” Mr. Davison’s friendly voice came through the line as soon as I answered. “Mr. Miller just told me what happened.” “You have to understand, the company has its policies. Try not to bring personal emotions into your work,” he said smoothly. “Look, I’ll step in here. You go ahead and work on this proposal. Mr. Miller has agreed that if Thorne Industries is satisfied, he’ll promote you to a Mid-Level Planner.” “You just keep working hard, and you’ll be back to Senior Planner in no time.” “And that $8,000 refund, how could we make you pay for that? I’ve already spoken to Mr. Miller. The company has decided to cover half. You’ll only have to pay back $4,000.” “As for your base salary, all Junior Designers are at $4,000, so we can’t make an exception for you there. But we’ll make sure you get your commission on this project. How does that sound?” Every word was coated in a syrupy, patronizing tone that was meant to sound like he was doing me a favor, but it was all just a calculated maneuver. A corporate executive was never going to side with an employee over a branch manager. It was just bad form. I adopted the same gentle tone. “Mr. Davison, I’d never want to take advantage of the company. I couldn’t possibly let you pay for my mistake.” “That $8,000, I’ll pay whatever I’m responsible for…” “Grace, I knew you were a sensible employee.” “I wasn’t finished, sir. I’ll pay every cent that I owe. But I won’t pay a single cent that I don’t.” “The company’s booking policy explicitly allows clients to receive a no-questions-asked refund. Why am I being held financially responsible for a client exercising that right?” “If you can show me the legal basis for these deductions, I will gladly pay the $8,000.” “As for the Thorne proposal, I am truly not capable of handling it. You should have Mr. Miller assign it to someone more competent. We wouldn’t want to delay such an important project.” After hanging up, I immediately booked a flight to the Maldives for the next morning. Before leaving for the airport, I called Mr. Miller to request my annual leave. “Grace, what is the meaning of this? The Thorne project is on a tight deadline and you’re trying to bail?” he bellowed. “I’m telling you, your vacation is not approved! You get back to this office right now!” I replied calmly, “According to labor law, a company cannot unreasonably deny an employee’s request for paid annual leave.” “All of my assigned projects are complete, and my next bookings aren’t until next month. My leave does not interfere with any ongoing work, making it a perfectly reasonable and legal request.” Miller roared, “Who said there’s no work? The Thorne project is work! You’re abandoning a critical task and you have the nerve to talk about what’s reasonable and legal?” “You are violating company policy and labor laws! I have every right to deny this request!” I smiled. “Mr. Miller, you haven’t forgotten the fine print in the Thorne Industries contract, have you?” “What?” “‘All of the client’s projects must be handled by one of the vendor’s Senior Planners.’” I enunciated every word clearly. “Yesterday, you announced my demotion to Junior Designer.” “So, by the terms of the contract, this project isn’t my responsibility anyway.” “You… you…” He was utterly speechless. He had been so focused on his petty power trip that he’d set a landmine for himself. I hung up the phone with a cold smile, switched it off, and boarded the plane. According to the contract, if Summit Creatives failed to meet the requirements of the agreement, Thorne Industries could terminate the contract without penalty. And Summit would be required to pay a penalty of ten times the annual contract value. The Thorne contract was worth $20 million a year. Ten times that was $200 million. Trading $200 million for an $8,000 refund. It was a business deal Mr. Miller would never forget. Three days later, after a glorious afternoon of sunbathing on a pristine beach, I lazily switched my phone back on. It immediately vibrated so violently it sent sand flying. My notifications had exploded.

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1 Everyone noticed I wasn’t chasing Mark anymore. Including Mark himself. After school, he blocked my path, his face a cold mask. “About standing you up the other day—I’m only explaining this once. Believe it or not, it’s up to you.” “Clara was cornered by some drunk. I went to help her.” “I was wrong not to call you. I forgot.” That day was his birthday. He was in a fight for Clara, while I was left stranded at the amusement park for the entire day. So, he thought I was just sulking about that. I gave a slight shake of my head. “It’s okay.” Then, under his shadowed, unreadable gaze, I quietly stepped around him and walked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that because he’d abandoned me yet again, the system had declared my mission a failure. In one month, I would be erased and sent back to my own world. And this body would be reclaimed by its original owner. 2 “Morgan, let’s go home.” The system’s voice sighed in my mind as an amusement park attendant reminded me for the third time that they were closing. “Mark’s not coming. He’s with Clara. He’s completely forgotten he was supposed to meet you here today.” My feet ached. I stomped them lightly on the pavement, picked up the cake box, and turned toward the exit. “Okay.” The hopeful anticipation I’d felt that morning had been worn down to nothing. All that was left was a hollow calm. Even when the system announced my failure. “In one month, you will be in a fatal car accident.” “This is the penalty for your failure.” “During the moment of impact, I will extract your consciousness and return you to your world. As for this body, its original owner will regain control.” After delivering the notice, the system vanished. I pulled out my phone to call a ride, only to see the battery icon flash red before the screen went black. I didn’t have any cash for a cab. Finally accepting my fate, I started the long walk home along the edge of the road. Failure had always been a possibility, I knew that. But in this moment, a profound exhaustion seeped into my bones, making every step feel impossibly heavy. 3 The route from the amusement park back to my house passed by our school. On a Saturday, the campus should have been deserted. But tonight, on a bench just outside the school gates, sat two figures I knew all too well. Clara was holding a small cupcake with a single matchstick stuck in it, flickering like a tiny, pathetic candle. “I’m so sorry, Mark…” she said, her voice soft. “I only just found out it was your birthday. I didn’t have time to get a proper cake.” “This was all I could find. I hope you don’t mind…” The boy across from her had a few fresh cuts on his cheekbone, a bandage wrapped around his forehead, half-hidden by his dark, messy hair. It gave him a kind of reckless, boyish charm. He didn’t seem to find the makeshift birthday cupcake ridiculous at all. He even took out his lighter and lit the match for her. “I don’t.” His voice, usually so cool and distant, held a gentle, coaxing note I’d never heard before. “I think it’s great.” I couldn’t help but remember the previous afternoon. I was in the school’s Home Ec room, presenting him with the birthday cake I’d perfected after countless attempts. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes flickered to my hand, where a fresh blister from the oven was already forming. His tone was sharp with impatience. “Just looking at your hand is enough to make me lose my appetite.” Embarrassed, I tried to hide my hand in the sleeve of my uniform. His expression was weary. He walked over, grabbed my wrist, and started dragging me towards the pharmacy down the street. “What are you hiding?” he snapped. “You get a burn and you don’t even think to put something on it? Do you have a brain?” He sounded annoyed, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he carefully applied the ointment. My courage returned. I had to ask again. “Mark… do you like the cake?” He stared at the blister on my hand, his brow furrowed. “It’s ugly as sin.” Back then, the system had tried to comfort me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just mad you hurt yourself making it. He’s just bad at showing he cares, that’s all.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stood across the street, a silent observer, watching Mark soothe Clara, assuring her that her simple cupcake was more than enough. And I finally understood. Even for someone as guarded and difficult as Mark, when he truly liked someone, he could be gentle. He would pull in all his thorns. He would protect her pride and couldn’t bear to see her disappointed. I didn’t know what Mark felt for me. But it definitely wasn’t love. 4 I pulled my gaze away, ready to leave. But then Clara spotted me. “Summer? What are you doing here?” Mark turned, his eyes landing on the cake box in my hand. He froze for a split second, and I saw the flicker of realization in his eyes. He remembered. Clara saw the box too. “Oh, you must be looking for Mark, right?” she said, a little too brightly. “I heard you were supposed to celebrate his birthday at the park today. I’m so sorry. You got stood up because of me.” Her apology was a thin veil, a performance she’d perfected over time. It was as if she was used to Mark dropping everything and everyone for her, especially me. And I was just supposed to take it. Maybe throw a little tantrum for a day or two, then go right back to chasing him like a lost puppy. I shook my head, denying her first question. “I was just passing by.” Mark’s jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on me. Clara just smiled, clearly thinking my words were a pathetic attempt to save face. She gestured towards the box. “Well, since you brought the cake anyway, we can celebrate now. It’s not too late.” As she reached for the box, I stepped back, shaking my head again. “It’s gone bad. You can’t eat it.” I pressed my lips together, my voice quiet. “It’s… it’s getting late. I should go home.” “Bye.” Clara looked genuinely surprised. In the past, I would have used any excuse to stick to Mark’s side. Now, I was willingly giving them their space. I took a few steps, clutching the ruined cake, then remembered something. I turned back, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I looked at Clara. “Excuse me, but… could I borrow twenty bucks? My phone’s dead and I can’t call a cab.” “I’ll take you.” The words shot out of Mark’s mouth the second I finished my sentence, fast and tight with some unreadable tension. I acted as if I hadn’t heard him. Clara stammered, “Uh… yeah, sure.” She fumbled in her purse and handed me a bill. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back at school on Monday.” I took the money and left. The entire time, I never once looked at Mark. 5 Maybe it was because I knew I was going home soon. That night, I dreamed of my life in the real world. I was in the college library during a break between classes, crying my eyes out over a novel. My roommate looked over, confused. “Isn’t that supposed to be a rom-com?” I sobbed, my words catching in my throat. “Not for him… not for Mark, the second male lead.” “His life is just so tragic.” “He’s been in love with the main character, Clara, since high school. But he came from nothing, so he was too proud and insecure to ever tell her. He becomes this huge business mogul by the end, but he never confesses. He just… watches over her from a distance.” “And the worst part? In high school, he was constantly bullied by the story’s vicious, spoiled rich girl, Summer.” My roommate handed me a tissue. “Your name is Morgan, and her name is Summer. Kinda close.” I slammed my hand on the table. “And I am deeply ashamed of that fact.” That very night, I woke up inside the book, in the body of the character I despised most. The system’s directive was simple: Win over Mark. That year, I was the person he hated most in the world. Mission difficulty: SSS. The system scanned my ecstatic expression. “The difficulty is off the charts, and you’re this happy?” “Because I can change his story! I can fix his miserable youth!” I bounced on my toes, my bangs flying. “I’m going to give him all the best things in the world. I won’t let him suffer for one more second.” The system had no faith in my mission. It said it would just wait for the clock to run out and send me back. I spent two years trying to melt Mark’s icy exterior. Eventually, his affection meter climbed so high that even the system thought victory was within reach. But in the end, I still failed. And really, I had no right to blame him. He was always in love with Clara. It was only natural that he would do anything for her, that he would put her first, always. It’s a simple truth I only managed to grasp now that I was no longer in love with him myself. 6 After spending the entire previous day out in the wind, it was no surprise when I woke up with a cold. I’d just taken some medicine when my phone rang. It was one of Mark’s friends. “Hey, Summer. Mark’s doing a do-over for his birthday today. At the amusement park, the one you guys were supposed to go to. You coming?” Mark never cared about things like birthdays. I knew what this was—an attempt to make up for what happened. My voice was thick with congestion when I spoke. “You guys have fun. I’m heading to the library today.” I heard the guy’s voice get farther from the receiver. “Yo, Mark, Summer says she’s not coming.” A few seconds passed. Then, I heard a short, sharp laugh, laced with mockery. “Her loss.” His reaction wasn’t a surprise. Mark had never been patient with me. This half-assed birthday party was the most he was willing to bend. I couldn’t stop a few coughs from escaping. The guy on the phone noticed. “Whoa, Summer, you sick? Okay, okay, never mind then. You just rest up.” Right before he hung up, I heard him ask someone else, “Hey, where’d Mark go?” Another voice replied, “Looked like he was heading to the pharmacy.” “Pharmacy? Why? Didn’t he just get his cuts looked at?” “Beats me.” 7 I went to the library with Leo. Leo. The original Summer’s childhood best friend. He was also the only person in this world who knew I wasn’t who I seemed. Not long after I arrived, he saw right through my act. He’d cornered me, studying my face with a smirk. “Don’t even try to lie. You can’t fool me. No one knows Summer better than I do.” After I confessed everything about the mission, he was only surprised for a moment before accepting it. Maybe it was because I was wearing his best friend’s face. For the past two years, he’d been incredibly good to me. He was one of my most important friends in this world. On the way to the library, I told him about my failed mission. “So you’re saying you’re leaving? In a month?” “Yep. The real Summer is coming back. You’ll be reunited with your childhood sweetheart.” The canvas messenger bag slung over Leo’s shoulder swayed with his steps, tapping rhythmically against his back. He just smiled, not responding, his eyes holding a flat, unreadable emotion. 8 We didn’t leave until the library was closing. Leo’s house was right next to mine. I stopped at his gate, about to say goodbye. But he was staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on my front door. I followed his line of sight. And met Mark’s dark, intense stare. He was wearing a black windbreaker that made his pale face seem even colder. The cuts on his cheekbone and jaw added a hint of untamed aggression to his look. In his hand was a small plastic bag from a pharmacy. I snapped back to the present and turned to Leo. “Well, you’re home. I’ll see you later. Bye.” He understood I didn’t want him involved. He didn’t ask any questions, just nodded. “Call me if you need anything.” The click of Leo’s front door closing echoed in the quiet street. Mark’s gaze slowly tracked me as I walked toward him, my fingers clutching the strap of my book bag. “Did you need something?” He ignored my question. “Aren’t you sick?” he countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You seemed perfectly fine, laughing it up with him.” As if on cue, a tickle in my throat forced a pair of coughs out of me. The mockery in his eyes faded slightly. I sniffled. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going inside.” He shifted his body, blocking my way. A chill radiated off him, making my shoulders tremble. I wondered how long he’d been standing out here in the cold for his clothes to feel like ice. “Why are you running all over town with him when you’re sick?” He shoved the pharmacy bag into my arms, his face a grim mask. “And about the other day. Standing you up.” “I’m only saying this once, so you can believe it or not.” He wasn’t one for apologies, so his explanation was clipped and concise. “Clara was getting harassed by a drunk. I went to help her. But I forgot to call and let you know, and I made you wait. That was my fault.” I couldn’t remember Mark ever bothering to explain himself to anyone. I was surprised he’d come looking for me, but that was it. No other emotion stirred. I held the bag of medicine back out to him, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. “Thank you, but I can’t take this. I can buy my own medicine.” “As for the other day, I accept your apology.” “Is there anything else? I really need to go home.” Mark’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes locked on mine as if silently demanding, What the hell is wrong with you? After a moment of silence, I took it as my cue to leave. I murmured a quiet goodbye and slipped past him into the house. Once I was back in my room, I peeked through the window. He was still standing there, motionless. Then, as if a bitter realization had finally dawned on him, he let out a cold, humorless scoff. He tossed the bag of medicine into the nearby trash can and walked away without a backward glance. I guess he finally got the message. This wasn’t me sulking. This was me giving up. For good. 9 Maybe because I’d been the most persistent and the most public of all his admirers, no one seemed to notice when I suddenly, quietly, gave up on him. During gym class, the guys were playing basketball. Both Mark and Leo got injured in the same play. The second I heard, I rushed to the nurse’s office. Mark wasn’t just a brutal fighter; he was a skilled one. He almost never lost. In the last two years, his reputation had grown to the point where it kept the local troublemakers at bay. It also earned him a legion of followers who admired his strength. In the nurse’s office, a crowd of guys swarmed Mark. Leo, on the other hand, was practically alone, with only the gym captain offering a few half-hearted words of concern. One of Mark’s friends saw me and grinned. “Whoa, whoa, Summer. Mark’s fine, you don’t have to look so panicked. Don’t you have any faith in your crush?” Mark’s expression was tense. He didn’t even look up. I couldn’t believe that even his closest friends hadn’t noticed that I’d stopped hovering around him. I pretended not to hear them and walked past the group, straight to Leo. “Is it bad? Should I get a pass for you to go to the hospital?” After all, Leo had taken care of me plenty of times when I was sick. The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful. It was thick with a tense, strained energy that suffocated all other sound. Leo glanced dismissively at Mark’s back. “It’s nothing. Just hurts a bit.” He offered a small smile, looking at me helplessly. “But I don’t think I can get back to class on my own. Could you help me out, Summer?” I nodded. Leo slung his arm over my shoulders, and I helped him limp out of the room. 10 After that, it seemed like everyone finally got the hint. The jokes about me and Mark stopped. A few days later, the system reappeared without warning, bringing a new mission. “I pulled some strings to get this for you,” it said. “If you succeed, the car accident you’re scheduled to have will be completely painless.” The system continued, “Your senior Graduation Showcase is next week, right?” To avoid interfering with final exams, our school held the event early in the second semester. “I hear each homeroom is only allowed to submit one act. Morgan, all you have to do is secure that performance slot for your class. That’s it. Mission complete.” The next day, I saw the sign-up sheet. Besides me, three other people had put their names down. Clara was doing a piano performance. The arts committee representative was singing a solo. And another guy was planning to do a stand-up comedy routine. Like the arts rep, I signed up for a solo performance. It was the only real talent I had. To be fair, the class president announced that the four of us had to record our full performances. We would play them for the entire class during homeroom, and they would vote for who would represent them at the showcase. 11 The vote ended in a stalemate. Clara and I were tied for first place. The class president wrung his hands. “Is there anyone who hasn’t voted yet?” Someone piped up, “Mark hasn’t. He’s absent today.” So, the president decided we’d hold a re-vote in three days between just me and Clara. Leo was fuming. “The class is split right down the middle between you two. The only person left to vote is Mark. And do we even need to guess who he’s going to pick? It’s obviously Clara.” We were sitting by the large glass window of a boba tea shop. Outside, cars sped through the intersection, their force a palpable blur. The thought of my impending “accident” sent a shiver down my spine. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t scared. I clutched the warm cup in my hands. “I want to try.” “Try what?” “To convince Mark to vote for me.” 12 Back when I was in love with Mark, trying to please him was second nature. Now, just initiating a conversation felt awkward and strange. The day before the final vote, as soon as the bell rang, I gathered my courage and walked to his desk. “Uh… do you have a minute?” He was leaning back in his chair. He slowly lifted his gaze to mine. “You need something?” I nodded twice. Just then, a light, cheerful set of footsteps approached. “Mark!” It was Clara. “Will you come with me to feed the stray cats after school tonight?” A wave of disappointment washed over me. I lowered my head, ready to walk away. “Can’t tonight,” Mark said, his voice flat. Clara seemed genuinely taken aback by his refusal. It was a rare sight. She quickly recovered, her lips curving into a smile. “Oh, okay then… I’ll just go by myself.” Soon, the classroom emptied out. Mark stared ahead, not looking at me. “Spit it out. What is it?” I quickly pulled a tube of ointment from my bag. “I saw the cuts on your face haven’t healed yet, so I bought this…” It was a clumsy attempt at bribery. My motive was so transparent that I squeezed my eyes shut after I said it, bracing for his mockery. But his expression didn’t change. He took the tube, turning it over in his hands. An idea struck me. “I could… I could put it on for you?” His response was to hand the ointment back to me. I pulled a chair over and sat beside him. Dabbing a cotton swab with the cream, I carefully applied it to his cuts. The only sound in the classroom was our quiet exchange. “Mark, turn your head a little.” “Is this a cut here, too?” “Yeah.” “This one hasn’t scabbed over yet. Is it going to sting?” “No.” After I finished, I tried to figure out how to bring up the vote. He cut right to the chase. “Just say it. What do you want from me?” Caught, my face flushed with heat. I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “The vote tomorrow… can you vote for me? Getting that spot is really, really important to me.” I was terrible at this. “Are you… hungry?” I stammered. “I can, uh, I can buy you dinner.” As I rambled on about buying him a new computer or a gaming console, he cut me off. “Summer.” He stared at me, and after a long moment, his deep voice resonated beside my ear. “You want my vote? Answer one question.” “What is it?” “Do you like Leo?” I shook my head. “We’ve only ever been friends. Does that have anything to do with your vote?” He didn’t answer, but the chill in his eyes seemed to thaw. He stood up, looking like he was ready to leave. I bit my lip. “So… will you vote for me tomorrow?” Mark stretched his neck, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and strolled out of the classroom. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a low drawl. 13 Before homeroom, my deskmate looked at me, bewildered. “Why are you so happy? You’re practically buzzing.” I just smiled, not saying a word. Because I’m going home, pain-free. The bell rang. The class president walked to the front to count the votes. “Oh, right,” he said. “Before I start, Mark, you voted this time, right?” I turned to look at him, my eyes crinkling with a smile I couldn’t contain. Our gazes met for a split second before he abruptly looked away. “I voted.” A terrible feeling started to bloom in my chest. The president counted the ballots, one by one. Every second stretched into an eternity of torment. “Okay, that’s all of them. The votes are in.” “With one more vote, Clara wins.” A radiant smile spread across the girl’s face. “Thank you all so much for your support.” The president nodded. “I’ll go submit your act after class.” My fingers went slack. The pen I was holding clattered to the floor, the sharp sound drawing a few glances. In the quiet room, a sudden snort of laughter broke the silence. “Are you kidding me? Look at her face. What is she so shocked about?” “It was always going to be Clara. It was a sure thing.” “I know, right? She’s been chasing him for two years. Does she seriously still think she means more to Mark than Clara does?” “It’s actually pathetic. I could die laughing.”

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Leo Hayes and I are Hollywood’s resident cautionary tales. He famously blew up his career for the one that got away; I built mine writing songs for a man who would never love me back. He throws money and resources at his past, I write power ballads about mine. We’re a matching set, a pair of aces in the art of getting our hearts broken publicly. And then, one night, we accidentally fell into bed together. Which led to us accidentally, and secretly, getting married. Which led to this: the four of us—Leo and me, his ghost of girlfriends past, and my great unrequited love—all trapped on the same reality TV show. After finishing a challenge, acting like strangers, Leo and I leaned in and, out of pure habit, kissed right in front of the cameras. That night, the internet didn’t just break; it threw a goddamn parade. #LetThemHaveEachOther became the number one trending topic worldwide. 1 The penthouse suite smelled of Le Labo and last night’s mistakes. My body was a dull, pleasant ache, and the space beside me on the bed was still warm. My phone was vibrating itself off the nightstand, a relentless assault of texts from my agent, Cass. I played dead for a few seconds, but the moment I reached for the phone, a subtle, full-body stiffness reminded me exactly why I was so sore. “The goddamn internet is on fire! Can you give me one week of peace? Just one?!” I sat up, the sheet pooling around my waist. “Bullshit. There’s no way the paparazzi got pictures.” A chart-topping singer and an Oscar-winning actor leaving the same hotel? I could already imagine the TMZ headline. It would be explosive. “No way?” Cass’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Lia, the entire world knows about your pathetic obsession with Ethan Cole.” A wave of relief washed over me, so potent I fell back against the pillows. Thank god. “So what’s the headline?” I asked, feeling like I’d just dodged a bullet. “‘Lia Valentine: Hollywood’s Most Pathetic Hopeless Romantic.’” The afterglow of the night was still humming through my veins. I stalled, needing a moment to clear my head. “What do you mean, ‘most’?” “Because Leo Hayes is a close second,” she shot back. “You two are the king and queen of bad decisions.” Just as she said his name, I heard footsteps approaching from the adjoined room. The man himself appeared, a towel slung low on his hips, his hair wet from the shower. Water droplets trickled down his sculpted chest. I looked up, and my gaze met the sharp, devastatingly handsome face of Leo Hayes. 2 Leo Hayes made his debut at eighteen. In the decade since, he’d collected two Oscars. His career was the stuff of legends, a smooth, glittering ascent that made him the fantasy of millions. His only blemish, the only crack in his perfect facade, was the fact that he was, like me, a notorious romantic. One week ago, Leo was nominated for another major international film award. One night ago, he’d accidentally ended up in my bed, where we’d spent hours lost in each other, forgetting the world existed. He’d whispered my name—Ava—in a voice thick with passion, and I’d sobbed out his—Ethan. Cass was still ranting on the phone. “Where are you? Why are you so calm about this?” My eyes fixed on a faint lipstick smudge on Leo’s neck. Because I’m about to give you something much, much bigger to worry about, I thought. “I wasn’t with Ethan last night,” I said. “Just kill the story. You know the drill.” The call ended. I was wearing nothing but Leo Hayes’s blazer, my bare shoulders a canvas of red marks. The silence in the room was thick enough to hear our own breathing. After a moment, he walked over and draped a soft blanket over my shoulders. “You were still asleep when I went to the shower,” Leo said, his voice a calm, low rumble as he knelt to look at me. “You should go wash up.” His dark eyes were impossibly deep. I nodded, but when I tried to stand, my legs gave out. 3 Leo caught me in an instant, his body a wall of warmth and damp heat. The moment our bare skin touched, we both froze, the intoxicating memory of the previous night flooding back. He pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to my legs. The tips of his ears turned a faint pink. “Is it okay if I carry you?” he asked softly. My answer was to wrap my arms around his neck. We’d already slept together. There was no point in being shy now. Leo Hayes’s official bio listed him at six-foot-two. He was all long legs, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist—a living mannequin. He’d played a soldier, was a fitness fanatic, and had a body that kept him on the top of every luxury brand’s wish list. I’d had the pleasure of experiencing it firsthand last night. His fans’ nickname for him, “The Greek God,” was no exaggeration. As I rested my head against his chest, I had to admit it was true. Leo’s status in the industry was so high that he was practically a recluse, avoiding the Hollywood circus outside of mandatory events. I’d rarely crossed paths with him. At the few galas we’d both attended, he was always surrounded, a remote, unattainable star. But this man, the one holding me now, was surprisingly gentle. He placed me carefully in the large soaking tub and adjusted the water temperature until it was perfect. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, his hair still messy, his features sharp and intense. “I’ll be right outside.” The door clicked shut. As I sank into the warm water, my mind drifted to a movie I’d seen when I was twenty. A Life in Three Acts. It was the film that won Leo his first Oscar. He played a man who accidentally betrayed the woman he loved, a character torn apart by guilt and morality. I let out a small, ironic laugh. For an actor of his caliber, this situation probably felt like method acting. 4 It took me a long time to get clean, and by the time I emerged, my patience had worn thin. A fresh set of clothes was waiting for me. Next to them, a glass of water and the morning-after pill. Leo handed them to me. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentle. “In our line of work, we have to be careful.” The veins on the back of his hand stood out as he held the glass, his tone leaving no room for argument. I didn’t waste time. I swallowed the pill and downed the water. “What if it doesn’t work?” I asked. Too much time had passed. I loved my life, and a baby wasn’t part of the plan. But I needed to know where he stood. “Your wishes are all that matter. I will take full responsibility and provide the best possible compensation.” The belt of his robe was loosely tied, revealing the faint scratches on his abdomen. He leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, his gaze direct and unwavering. “I don’t know how your key card got mixed up, but that doesn’t matter now,” he continued, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re pregnant, it’s your choice. Whether you want to keep it, who raises it—it’s all up to you. I will respect every decision and offer unconditional financial and professional support.” He really was as decent as his reputation suggested. A true gentleman. “It takes two to tango,” he added, “but at the end of the day, I was the one who walked into the wrong suite.” My hips ached and my legs felt like jelly. Last night, all reason had evaporated. I glanced at the man across from me and sank onto the sofa. I pressed a hand to my stomach. His persona was all cool self-control, but in bed, Leo Hayes was an entirely different animal. “Let’s just,” I paused, “call this a one-time thing. A crazy night that never happened.” 5 Leo’s head was bowed, hiding his expression. “Let’s exchange numbers,” he said after a moment of silence, picking up his phone from the island. “You can contact me if anything comes up.” I raised an eyebrow. Everyone in the business knew Leo Hayes came from a powerful family and had access to the best resources in the industry. I’d hit it big with my debut single, but our professional circles were worlds apart. We’d never had a reason to connect. Besides, more than his legendary career, my primary impression of him was the same one the public had of me. One of Hollywood’s most notorious hopeless romantics. His story was as well-known as my five-year public pursuit of Ethan Cole, the CEO of Azure Media. Three years ago, at the absolute peak of his fame, Leo had announced an indefinite hiatus from acting—all for a young starlet named Ava Brooks. A workaholic giving up his career for love, a high-profile declaration, a massive fan exodus—it was spectacular. He only returned to the screen a year ago, after the tabloids reported their breakup. And in less than ten months, he was already nominated for another major award for a gritty indie film. It was at his welcome-home party that he and I had, by some cosmic joke, ended up in bed together. I pulled out my phone, thinking with a cynical smirk that at least I got something out of it. A fantastic night and a powerful new contact. I ignored the dozens of notifications and held my screen out for him to scan. Just then, two new messages from Cass popped up, in full view of both of us. [Your scandal just got buried by Leo Hayes’s.] [His is way bigger. You hopeless romantics have to stick together, I guess.] I froze. As if on cue, Leo’s phone began to vibrate violently. 6 It was Marcus, Leo’s legendary agent. While he took the call, I quickly went online to catch up. An hour ago, I was the top story. The infamous gossip site, LA Buzz, had posted: Lia Valentine finally gets her man? The accompanying photo was a cleverly angled shot of Ethan and me from the party last night. It looked like we were kissing. It was a beautiful photo, capturing the elegant line of Ethan’s jaw. He looked refined, handsome. I was looking up at him, a focused, adoring smile on my face. The comments were brutal. Trolls called me a desperate stalker, while my fans fought a losing battle in the replies, begging me to have some self-respect. But that wasn’t the main event anymore. I clicked on the new, blazing red headline. #LeoAndAvaBackTogether It was another post from LA Buzz. No text this time, just a short surveillance video. A man and a woman, locked in a passionate kiss, stumbled down a hotel corridor and into a suite. The clip was over a minute long, a desperate, breathless tangle of limbs. The man’s larger frame completely obscured the woman, her face never visible. All you could see were her pointed toes, her long hair swinging around her waist, and the man’s hand gripping that waist, the veins on his arm stark and possessive. It was raw, so intense you could practically hear the wet sound of their kisses. It was the kind of video that made you blush. I covered my face, a wave of horror washing over me as I recognized it. It was from last night. It was me and Leo Hayes. I looked up. The man from the video was standing right in front of me. “We need to talk,” Leo said, his expression unreadable. 7 “I swear, I didn’t leak that video.” “I know,” Leo said, surprisingly calm. “You haven’t exactly had the time.” My mind flashed with images of the various positions we’d been in, and I winced. “…” “I’ll handle the trending topics,” he said. “And I took care of the one about you and Ethan Cole while I was at it.” Saving money was always a plus. “Thanks,” I said briskly. Leo glanced at me and held out his phone again. We finally added each other as contacts. As he typed in my name, a belated wave of awkwardness washed over me. Out of habit, to prevent being photographed, the heavy blackout curtains remained drawn, casting the room in a cool, dim light. We were both in bathrobes, our bodies marked by each other. Every time our eyes met, the memories of the night before came rushing back. The kisses, the embraces, his low, seductive whispers, my own helpless crying. We both knew it was more than just a spiked drink. We were adults. In the latter half of the night, we had both been willing participants, a mix of pure indulgence and a shared decision to see it through. A tense, electric ambiguity began to warm the air. “We should leave at different times,” Leo said, standing up first. “And like I said, if you need anything, just contact me.” I was alone in the master suite when Cass called again. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said, her voice strained. “When are you finally leaving Azure Media?” 8 My pursuit of Ethan Cole had been a public spectacle for five years. Three years ago, I’d given up plans to launch my own independent label and instead signed with his company, Azure Media. I was at a critical point in my career, and the move cost me a huge chunk of my fanbase. But I wasn’t a manufactured pop idol; I was a songwriter, young and arrogant, buoyed by real talent. I went on to release two more bestselling albums. My remaining fans, in an act of collective self-soothing, convinced themselves I was just there for artistic inspiration. For years, I’d been the golden goose, bringing Azure countless successful projects and massive revenue. But behind the scenes, I’d paid a heavy price. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly. “Didn’t the story get taken down?” “The watch endorsement—the full line,” Cass said with a cold laugh. “Your beloved CEO gave it to Ava Brooks.” Ava Brooks. The current “it girl.” The woman Leo Hayes had given up his career for. His great, idealized love. For some reason, instead of anger, I felt a strange sense of dark humor. This town was too small. We were all just actors in the same ridiculous play. “What the hell are you laughing at?” Cass snapped. “That son of a bitch has been trying to sideline you for months. Ava signing with Azure after her ‘reunion’ with Leo? He brought her in specifically to replace you.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “If you didn’t pay me so damn well, and if every lovesick song you write for him didn’t turn to gold, I would’ve been gone so long ago!” I was shaking with laughter. It took me a moment to catch my breath. “Don’t worry, Cass. Ava and Leo aren’t back together.” “How would you know? Did you see how fast he killed that story? Who else could make him move like that besides Ava?” Because he just climbed out of my bed. “Get the paperwork ready,” I said. “It’s time to start my own studio.” 9 On the drive to Azure Media’s headquarters, I thought about how Ethan and I had met. He discovered me. In my early days, trying to make it in music, my family had all but cut me off. I was broke, playing for tips in smoky bars, when Ethan found me. He gave me money, poured resources into my first album, and launched my career into the stratosphere. He was five years older than me, handsome, elegant, wealthy—and a staunch bachelor. Cass always said he’d intentionally cultivated my crush on him. A damn shame he was a coward. He’d reeled me in but refused to either commit or cut me loose, leaving me hanging in limbo. I didn’t used to care. Maybe it was an occupational hazard for a songwriter, but my emotions were always intense. If I loved, I pursued. If I hated, I walked away. All or nothing. So I let him play his games, let my heart be trampled, let the world laugh at me. They were my choices, and I could live with the consequences. But even the most resilient heart gets tired of being taken for granted. Ethan was expecting me. He handed me a cup of freshly brewed tea. He was always like that—thoughtful and gentle in every small way, yet incredibly stingy with the things that truly mattered. I got straight to the point. “My endorsement. Why did you give it to Ava?” “I had to give her a welcome gift for signing with us,” he said, his voice low and persuasive. “Lia, just do this for me, okay? As a favor.” I looked at his handsome face and thought, He’s always so sure I’ll say yes. Time after time, his reassurances had become more and more perfunctory. I smiled, a hollow ache spreading through my chest, like an old wound being torn open. It hurt so much my voice came out raspy. And I gave him the same answer I always did. “Okay.” 10 “I’ll make it up to you,” Ethan said warmly. “There’s a spot for you on Pacific Challenge, the network’s biggest reality show. You’ll be a main cast member.” The discomfort from last night lingered in my body. I sipped my tea, my eyes downcast. “Why her? Why Ava?” Ava was a natural talent, one of those actresses blessed by the gods. She hadn’t made many films, but nearly every one was a classic. Her personality was as bright and fiery as her fame. Three years ago, she and Leo had been cast as leads in a romance, and their on-screen love had spilled into real life. After Leo stepped away for her, Ava remained in the spotlight—not for her acting, but for a string of high-profile flings. I remembered clearly that among the men she was rumored to be with, Ethan had once been photographed with her at a hotel. “The company’s focus for the second half of the year is film investment,” he said with a smile. Then his eyes fell on me, and he paused. “Lia, where were you yesterday?” I looked down and saw it: a faint mark on my collarbone, just visible past the edge of my silk scarf. I adjusted the scarf. “Does it matter to you?” Ethan was taken aback. In all the years I’d chased him, I’d never spoken to him with that tone. But he recovered quickly, smiling. “Still the same little hothead, aren’t you?” His voice became soft, coaxing. “Don’t be mad. I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. That’s my fault.” He brushed his fingers against my palm. “Come over tonight?” There it was again. The slap, then the candy. All of it predicated on the fact that he knew I loved him, giving him license to treat my heart like a plaything. Before, it had been a game I was willing to play. But now— I pulled my hand away. “No, thanks. You’re busy. I should go.” 11 As I walked out of the Azure building, a message popped up on my phone. It was one of a dozen from my mother. “Just meet him. Our families are partners on this project, and he’s in your industry. It won’t kill you to have one dinner.” My career had been stable for years, and as I’d gotten older, the frosty relationship with my family had started to thaw. But the constant pressure to agree to an arranged marriage made me wish we were still estranged. Every part of my body ached. Leo Hayes was an animal in bed. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. The buyout clause in my contract with Azure was steep. I could afford it, but it would be a devastating financial hit. I had an album to release and a whole team of people who depended on me. I typed out a reply, word by word. “Fine. Let me know when and where.” This whole arrangement was born from a massive real estate development deal. My older siblings were already married, leaving me as the only age-appropriate match for the other family’s youngest son. Business is business, I thought grimly. You get your hands dirty one way or another. If this marriage worked, my family would cover the exorbitant contract buyout. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment. The results were clear. As I was leaving the clinic, a message from Leo came in. “Do you need to get a full check-up?” I raised an eyebrow and replied, “Thanks, I already did.” He didn’t write back. Online, every trace of that explosive kissing video had been scrubbed from the internet. I’d seen it before, but it was still staggering to witness the efficiency of Leo Hayes’s team. Of course, that level of damage control had previously been reserved exclusively for Ava Brooks. Today, I’d gotten a taste of it. On the way home, I called Cass. “I know you’ve been waiting for this,” I said with a smile. “It’s officially time to burn it all down with Ethan.” 12 The day I was scheduled to meet my prospective fiancé, my new independent studio’s official social media accounts went live. The news spread like wildfire through gossip blogs and fan communities. The internet was in an uproar. Ethan called me relentlessly. I didn’t answer once. The meeting was at a serene, traditional teahouse, set in a private garden that I was told belonged to the family. While I waited, I reviewed what little I knew about my future husband. The Rhodes family. A real estate empire, one of the most powerful names in the city. Their youngest son, like me, was a rebel who’d gone into entertainment. He couldn’t be very famous, though. I’d been in this business for years and had never heard of a major star named Rhodes. The sound of approaching footsteps broke my train of thought. I looked up, and my eyes widened in disbelief. The man walking toward me was tall and lean, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, a sleek watch on his wrist. It was a casual outfit, but there was nothing casual about that handsome face. Leo Hayes. The A-list actor who, just one week ago, had been whispering in my ear as we lay tangled in my sheets. His usual cool expression was touched with genuine surprise. He paused for a beat before saying, “Long time no see.” “Not that long,” I said, unable to suppress a smile. The world was ridiculously small. “Your last name isn’t Hayes?” “I use my mother’s surname professionally,” he said, taking the seat across from me. “I had no idea the marriage was arranged with you.” “I didn’t either.” “After that day,” Leo asked, his voice softening, “did you get checked out? Did you feel okay?” I looked at him, his dark hair falling casually across his forehead, a relaxed charm in his sharp features. He had the captivating aura of a mature, confident man. “I’m fine,” I said with a small smile, a spark of mischief igniting in me. “Although, it’s a little too soon to know if I’m pregnant or not.” Leo didn’t smile back. He looked at me, his gaze serious and intense. “Lia Valentine, will you consider marrying me?”

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For six years, I was in love with Leo. And for six years, we were just friends. When I was hospitalized with pneumonia, he was the one who paid for the private room and sat by my bedside, more attentive than anyone. When my cousin got engaged, he was my date, charming my entire family and leaving a gift so generous it made my aunt’s eyes water. Everyone thought it was only a matter of time. Finally, I worked up the courage to tell him. He just gave me a lazy, sideways glance, a smirk playing on his lips as he flicked a silver Zippo open and closed. He let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “I think of you as my best friend, Audrey. And you… you want to date me? “Come on. Don’t be ridiculous. Be good.” I was silent for a long time before I managed a single, choked word. “Okay.” We didn’t speak after that. The next time he called, two months had passed. “What have you been up to?” he asked, his voice casual, as if no time had passed at all. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” I glanced at the handsome, reserved man sitting across the table from me and answered truthfully. “Oh. I’m on a date.” The line went dead, but not before I heard the distinct, shattering sound of a phone hitting a wall. 1 I never imagined Leo and I would end up here. He was leaning against the balcony railing, his expression loose and amused. That handsome mouth, which I knew so well, was tilted in a slight smile, as if I’d just told him the world’s funniest joke. “So, tell me,” he said. “What is it you like about me?” My palms were slick with sweat. “You… you’re good to me.” Better than anyone. For six years, he had been a constant, unwavering presence in my life. For my birthday, he’d rent out that rooftop bar I loved, the one with the view of the city lights, and he’d bake the cake himself—a lopsided chocolate monstrosity that was always the best thing I’d ever tasted. He would gather everyone around, placing me in the very center of it all before lighting the candles with that lazy grin of his. “Make a wish, Audrey. Anything heaven can’t handle, I’ll take care of it for you.” He owned a house on Seaview Drive, a sprawling modern thing with a garden overlooking the ocean. He had it filled with roses, just because I’d once said I liked them. He never used to live there. He bought it right after I graduated, when I was a nervous wreck at my first job. I was new, overworked, and constantly on the verge of tears from the pressure. One night, I finally broke down in front of him. Not long after, he moved in. He gave me a spare key. “Next time you feel like the world is ending,” he’d said with a soft sigh, “just come over. I’m right here. Who else are you going to call?” I was too busy to eat, too stressed to remember lunch. So Leo, a man born with a trust fund who’d probably never touched a raw vegetable in his life, learned to cook. He’d show up at my office building every day with a container still warm from his kitchen. The first dish he perfected was my favorite spicy rigatoni. He came from old money, but he never acted like it. The line of women trying to get his attention could have wrapped around the city twice. One of them managed to get my number and tried to use me to arrange a dinner date. I was young then, not yet skilled at saying no. I set it up, and that night, the girl called me. “He seems so warm,” she’d said, “but underneath, he’s ice cold. I don’t think I have a chance.” She told me Leo was the most well-mannered man she’d ever met. Even after realizing he’d been tricked, he wasn’t angry. He sat through the entire dinner with her, patient and polite. But at the end, he’d said, “Audrey’s just starting her career. She’s already stretched thin. You might not care about her time, but I do. “So, if it’s all the same to you, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother her again. Understood, Miss Davies?” Back then, everything felt golden. The world was quiet and full of promise. Everyone who saw us together thought it was inevitable. I thought so, too. But I never stopped to ask myself the most important question: What if he didn’t love me back? 2 Leo raised an eyebrow. He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before he looked up and said my name, his voice suddenly serious. “Audrey.” “You’re twenty-five. How many people have you really met? You’re going to find someone who treats you better than I do.” My body went rigid. I knew what this was. This was the end. A sob caught in my throat. I’d ruined everything. I had seen him reject people before. Beautiful girls would stand before him, tears streaming down their perfect faces, telling him how much they loved him. He wouldn’t even flinch. If anything, he’d take a subconscious step back, his indifference so complete it was chilling. I just thought… I thought I was different. It was clear now that I wasn’t. It was all in my head. He saw the tears welling in my eyes and lifted his hand, an instinct to wipe them away, just like he always did. But halfway there, he seemed to remember himself. He dropped his arm, snatching the Zippo from the table and clicking it restlessly. A desperate sliver of hope made me push. “But for all these years… there’s been no one else. Just me. Can’t we… can’t we at least try? I love you, Leo. I really, really love you.” The words tumbled out of me, a messy, incoherent plea. His expression only grew colder. A hot wave of shame washed over me. I knew him better than anyone. I knew that look. He was losing his patience with me. The next sound he made was a soft chuckle. It was careless, dismissive. It was the sound of a final judgment. “I see you as my best friend, Audrey. And you… you want to date me?” “Does that seem right to you?” “Come on. Don’t be ridiculous. Be good.” I stayed silent for a very long time. I knew, in that moment, that this was the end. We wouldn’t even be friends anymore. But I asked myself, will I ever find someone like him again? Someone who would care for me more, who would arrange my entire life with such effortless thought? I covered my face with my hands and began to sob. He sighed, his gaze heavy on me. He didn’t say a word, which somehow said everything. He waited for me to finish crying before helping me to my feet. He used only his fingertips, and the second I was steady, he pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned, shoving it deep into his pocket. He gestured with his chin toward two large shopping bags by the door. “I brought you those from my business trip. You should take them with you.” I looked over. They were filled with boxes from Chanel, Hermès—things that would cost me years of salary. He’d given me gifts like this before. To him, no matter how expensive, it was just pocket change. He could always find an excuse: a promotion, a raise, or just because I was wearing a nice dress and the sun was shining. If I refused, he’d get moody. Over time, I’d learned his tells. I started giving him gifts in return—sweaters and scarves I’d knitted, ties and cufflinks I’d spent weeks picking out. He always smiled when he received them. A friend once told me, “The way you two are, what’s the difference between that and dating? If he told me he wasn’t in love with you, I’d call him a liar.” She was wrong. I was wrong. Leo only ever saw me as a friend. “I don’t want them,” I said. He just nodded. “Okay,” he said, not pressing the issue. As I walked toward the door, I glanced back at him. He was sitting quietly on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He looked… melancholic. A thought seized me, stopping me in my tracks. I could try again. I could be patient, I could pursue him, show him I was sincere. What if… But before I could speak, his voice cut through the silence. “The key to the house. Do you have it with you?” “Can I have it back?” I had carried that key for years. I had never once used it. Never stayed the night. But I was always terrified he’d forget his own, or that something would happen to him when he was alone. No matter where I went, I always had it with me. Today, it finally had a use. I don’t know how I managed to fish it out of my purse and place it on the coffee table in front of him. I only know that I must have looked utterly pathetic. Because when he took it, he looked at me and froze for a second. Then his voice turned cool, laced with a distinct disappointment. “Audrey,” he said, his tone almost detached. “I always thought you were different from the other girls.”

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