The new sneakers came unglued the same day I bought them. When I took them back to the store for a refund, the manager stalled, refusing to process the return. That afternoon, I called to follow up. He was sarcastic, his voice dripping with condescension. “Are you waiting on this thousand dollars to make rent?” “You bought a pair of thousand-dollar sneakers, you didn’t buy a Bentley.” “You were so tough, talking about calling corporate. Go ahead. Let’s see how fast they get back to you.” My son, who was in the middle of a live stream of his video game, turned to look at me. “Mom,” he said, his voice low. “Is someone giving you a hard time? The guys in my chat are ready to light them up.” 1 It was for my son’s birthday. I wanted to surprise him. So, while I was out shopping with my friend Jenna, I stopped by the boutique sneaker store, Apex Athletics, and picked out the pair he’d been obsessed with for months. The price tag was nearly two thousand dollars. Jenna tried to talk me out of it. “Sarah, come on. You clear six grand a month. You can’t spoil him like that.” But I steeled myself and decided to buy them. He’d been working so hard in school lately, and I’d never really been able to buy him anything truly special. He’d stared at these shoes online so many times, thinking I didn’t notice. I noticed everything. A few of the salesclerks were whispering nearby. “Can you imagine? Making only six thousand a month in this economy.” “Seriously. And having a kid on that? Don’t have them if you can’t afford them. It’s just cruel.” Jenna shot them a glare so sharp it could cut glass, then adopted their own snide tone. “Well, at least her son is getting an education. Unlike some people’s kids, who have to start working dead-end jobs right out of high school to make ends meet.” “And what is this, 2024? The sales staff openly mocks the customers now? What a time to be alive.” She leaned in, her voice a theatrical whisper. “What’s your commission on a pair of shoes, anyway? Ten bucks? Twenty?” A young woman with a high ponytail shot back, her voice rising. “What’s your problem, lady? You’re old enough to know better. Have some class.” Just then, a man in a slim-fit blazer emerged from the back. He looked at the salesgirl. “What’s all the shouting, Ashley?” Ashley stomped her foot and pointed at us. “Manager, these two old ladies are making fun of us! Saying we only make ten bucks a sale.” The manager let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “That’s enough. The customer is always right. Even when they’re wrong, you keep your mouth shut.” Jenna’s temper flared. He was so obviously taking his employee’s side without even asking what happened. “She was whispering about us first! What do you mean, we were making fun of her? And calling us ‘old ladies’? Where are your manners?” Suddenly, the manager’s face broke into a sickeningly sweet smile. He stepped forward and grabbed Jenna’s wrist. “Oh, listen to my staff, so unprofessional! I am so, so sorry on their behalf.” He shook his head dramatically. “Calling you ‘old ladies’ is just outrageous. You both look so young and vibrant! We should post your picture online and have people guess your age, what do you think?” He oozed condescension. “My deepest apologies, ladies. Truly.” 2 I pulled Jenna toward the register. “Let it go,” I whispered. “He’s not worth it.” She saw it too. Rotten from the top down. Arguing with a passive-aggressive snake like him would get us nowhere. Getting the gift for my son was more important. I placed the box on the counter and asked softly, “How much will this be?” The manager handled the transaction himself, his eyes flitting everywhere but at me. He raised an eyebrow. “My dearest customer, the price is written quite clearly, is it not?” “Two thousand dollars,” he said, his tone mocking. “And how will you be paying? Credit card, or are we using Afterpay today?” The insult hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Jenna grabbed my arm, ready to leave. “Let’s go, Sarah. We’ll buy them somewhere else. I’m sure they’re not the only store in the city that has them.” The manager finally looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh? But you don’t understand, ma’am. These are a limited edition. In this city, we are, in fact, the only store that has them.” Ashley, the ponytail girl, happened to walk by just then, muttering “Country bumpkins” under her breath. At that moment, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my son, Leo. Mom, they say a child’s birthday is a reminder of the day a mother went through hell for them. Thank you for raising me all these years. I’m going to work even harder from now on. The restaurant you booked is awesome, the cake is amazing, and all my friends are jealous I have a mom as cool as you. A wave of warmth washed over me. I smiled and showed the text to Jenna. Her expression softened. “Okay, you raised a good one. Go on, buy the shoes.” I looked up at the manager. “I’ll use my debit card, if that’s okay.” He shrugged, a dismissive flick of his head. “Whatever you want.” The machine beeped. Payment successful. I could already picture the look on Leo’s face when he opened the box. If he was happy, I was happy. What did the cruelty of a few strangers matter in the face of that? As I waited for them to bag the shoes, the manager started ringing up the next customer. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Just so you know, you can get a 15% off coupon by following our company’s TikTok account. Would you like me to show you?” He shot a malicious glance in my direction. Fifteen percent. That meant I could have gotten these shoes for seventeen hundred. Jenna and I froze. The manager looked like a general who had just won a decisive battle, his head held high. “And if you buy a second item,” he continued to the other customer, “you get an additional 10% off your entire purchase. I’d recommend grabbing a pair of those thirty-dollar socks. With the discount, you’d save a hundred and sixty bucks total, which means the socks are basically free.” 3 My legs felt weak. I leaned against the counter. “Excuse me, young man. Could I have done that with my purchase?” He smiled at me, a wolfish grin. “Of course! But you’ve already paid. You missed your chance.” Jenna was furious. “Then we’ll return them and buy them again!” The manager and the clerks behind him burst out laughing. He wiped a fake tear from his eye and waved a dismissive hand at Jenna. “Sorry, ma’am. Store policy. No returns or exchanges unless there’s a quality issue.” Jenna slammed her palm on the counter. “You people are unbelievable! Why didn’t you tell us about the discount beforehand?” The manager finally stood up straight, his voice loud and unapologetic. “We are under no obligation to inform you of every single promotion. That’s not part of our job description.” “Maybe you should do a little research online before you go shopping next time. If you don’t know the rules, don’t play the game. Nobody forced you to buy from us.” He spread his hands wide. “Did anyone here force you to spend your money in our store?” He turned to Ashley with a theatrical, menacing look. “Ashley, tell me. Did you force these two lovely ladies to shop here?” Ashley covered her mouth, her eyes wide with mock surprise. “Me? Of course not! Even if I wanted to, I’d focus on customers who make six figures, not six thousand a month.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Do people like that even have enough to eat? To stay warm? These are two-thousand-dollar shoes!” “That’s like, their whole life savings. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that!” By then, an employee had finished bagging the shoes and placed them on the counter in front of me. I was trembling with rage. I picked up the bag, my voice catching in my throat. “You know, young man, everyone has a mother. I hope that when your parents go out into the world, they aren’t treated the way you’ve treated us today.” The manager waved me away as if shooing a fly. “Don’t you worry about my parents, ma’am. They make plenty of money. They’re treated with respect wherever they go.” Ashley cackled beside him, practically clapping with glee. Jenna looked like she was ready to tear the store apart. But what good would that do? Causing a scene would only get us in trouble. At our age, the stress and exhaustion just wasn’t worth it. As we walked away, Jenna said, her voice filled with a quiet fury, “Kids never have any idea what their parents go through for them out in the world.” I just frowned and nodded. But it was that day I learned a vital lesson. If you let your children see your pain, they won’t stand by and watch you get hurt. Parents are their children’s rock, but sometimes, children are their parents’ fortress. My son, Leo, was about to prove that to the world. 4 Jenna has a short fuse. It was my fault for dragging her out shopping with me, only to have our day ruined. I offered to take her for lunch to try and cheer her up. “You’re too soft, Sarah,” she said from across the table at the food court. “You let those little punks walk all over you.” I forced a smile. “It’s over. Let it go. If you don’t think about it, it can’t bother you.” “Such a coward,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Let me see the shoes. Are they made of gold? Two thousand dollars.” I took the box out of the bag. As I lifted the lid to hand one to her, I saw it. The side of the sneaker was peeling away from the sole. The glue was fresh. “Oh my god,” I gasped. “Jenna, look. Is this a defect?” She leaned in close. “It’s completely unglued. Quick! We have to go back right now before they try to say we did it.” We rushed back to the store. The manager took the shoe and examined it from every angle, his face a mask of suspicion. Ashley whispered from the side, “I bet they did it themselves with a knife just to get the discount.” Jenna pointed a trembling finger at her. “You shut your mouth! We walked out of your store and went straight upstairs to the food court. This mall has security cameras, doesn’t it? Go pull the footage! You’d better watch what you say, little girl. Slander is a crime. I’ll have you arrested.” Ashley just rolled her eyes. “Whatever, lady. Can’t a person even have a theory anymore? We see it all the time. People who can’t afford nice things trying to scam the system. It’s not a crazy assumption.” The manager’s face was dark. “Alright, alright. It’s unglued. We’ll process the refund.” I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Where will the money be refunded to?” “Back to the original payment method, obviously,” he snapped. “You paid with a card, it goes back to the card. This isn’t a cash-back service.” My patience was worn to a thread, but it was my money. I couldn’t afford to walk away from it. “I used my debit card,” I said. “How long will it take for the refund to appear in my account?” He finally looked up, glaring at me. “Look, I get it. You’re broke, you need the cash. Debit refunds can take up to three hours. Okay? We’ve processed it. Now can you please stop hovering here and bothering us? We have a store to run.” I was exhausted. The anger, the arguing—it drained the life out of you. I wasn’t young anymore. I didn’t have the energy to fight him. I could see Jenna was just as tired. Without another word, we turned and left the store. 5 After lunch, it was already past two in the afternoon. I wanted to go home and lie down for a bit, to save my energy for Leo’s birthday dinner. I figured the money would be back in my account by three. Jenna asked carefully, “Sarah, are you still going to buy him the sneakers?” I sighed and shook my head. “No. I’m too old for this. I don’t understand how shopping works anymore. I’ll just give him the money and let him buy whatever he wants.” We said our goodbyes and got on our separate buses home. It was a quarter past three when I walked through my front door. Leo was in his room, playing his game. He smiled when he saw me. “Hey, Mom, you’re back. I saved you a slice of cake. Thanks again for everything.” I smiled and wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind. “Enjoy yourself today. But tomorrow, it’s back to the books, okay?” He patted my hand. “You got it, Mom.” I sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him lose himself in the game. I glanced at my phone. Nothing. No notification from my bank. So, I called the store. I was so tired I didn’t even have the strength to hold the phone to my ear. I just set it on the bed beside me on speaker. “Hello, Apex Athletics, how can I help you?” It was him. The manager. My voice was flat. “Hello. It’s the woman who returned the defective sneakers.” “Ugh. Are you serious? What do you want now?” My heart started to pound. Leo was still playing, but I knew he could hear. “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You said the refund would take three hours. It’s been longer than that, and I still haven’t received it.” His response was a torrent of pure contempt. “Are you waiting on this thousand dollars to make rent? “You bought a pair of thousand-dollar sneakers, you didn’t buy a Bentley. “You were so tough, talking about calling corporate. Go ahead. Let’s see how fast they get back to you!” Click. He hung up. I stared at the black screen of my phone. I hadn’t filed a complaint. Had Jenna done it for me? As my mind raced, Leo’s voice cut through the silence. “Mom, what’s going on?”

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The call came from a cop. My husband, he told me, had been caught in a vice raid. I was numb. But it wasn’t until I got to the precinct, until I saw the face of the woman sobbing in Ethan’s arms—a face contorted into a mask of perfect, pear-blossom sorrow—that the numbness curdled into something else. A profound, weary sense of pointlessness. I walked right up to him. Ethan instinctively shielded the woman, his mouth already forming an explanation. I slapped him. Hard. “Ethan,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “You’re disgusting.” 1 The crack of the slap echoed in the sterile air of the police station. It was so sharp, so final, that even the officer who had been briefing me fell silent. I watched Ethan, his hand cupped to his reddening cheek, still processing. I raised my hand to strike him again, but the woman in his arms suddenly lurched forward, taking the blow for him. The slap landed on her cheek, and her sobs intensified. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she wailed, her voice cracking. “How could you hit him?” She glared at me through her tears, a picture of defiant fragility. “You don’t ask what happened, you don’t care about the truth, you just storm in here hitting people. Who do you think you are?” I looked at her, at this masterfully crafted performance, and felt a laugh bubble up, cold and hollow. It was so ridiculous I didn’t want to waste a single word on her. I lifted my hand again. This time, Ethan caught my wrist. “That’s enough.” His voice was ice. “This isn’t one of your little dramas, Ava,” he said, his grip tightening. “Can you, for once, not make a scene wherever you go?” He shoved me away. I stumbled backward, the corner of a desk jamming into my lower back. A dull, throbbing pain shot through me, making me wince. A flicker of guilt crossed Ethan’s face. He started to reach for me, but the woman beat him to it, stepping forward with a fresh cascade of tears. “Ava, it’s not what you think,” she explained, her voice choked with emotion. “There’s nothing going on between me and Ethan. He just… he saw I was in trouble and wanted to help me. Someone set us up, they called the cops and lied, said we were… you know. You’ve been with Ethan for years. You know what kind of man he is.” Her crying grew louder, more desperate, as if she were the one truly wronged. “If I were you,” she sobbed, “I would never humiliate my husband in public like this. Can’t you take it home? Don’t you know the most important thing to a man is his pride?” Her tears worked their magic on Ethan. The guilt in his eyes hardened back into cold indifference. He put a protective arm around her, his face a mask of disappointment aimed at me. “There was nothing going on between me and Chloe.” “I’ve explained this to you a hundred times,” he said, his voice sharp as he shielded her. “Just because your own mind is dirty, doesn’t mean you have to see filth everywhere you look.” On the way here, I’d considered every possibility. I’d thought maybe he’d been set up, and I’d mentally run through the lawyers I would call. I’d thought maybe a business rival had framed him to destabilize our company. But I never, not for a second, thought it would be because of her. Chloe again. Always Chloe. The nightclub hostess Ethan had “discovered” six months ago. His tragic little thing, the “sad little stray” he couldn’t stop talking about. He’d cast himself as God in his own redemption story, determined to save her from her circumstances. It led to furious, explosive fights between us, again and again. And every single time, he would defend her. It was always my fault. I was the one being aggressive, being unreasonable. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I brought up divorce. That shocked him into silence. “I promise,” he’d said, his voice breaking. “Chloe will never come between us again.” “It’s you or her. How could I not know who to choose?” He had cried then, begging me for another chance, telling me he loved me. And my heart, like a fool, had softened. I thought we’d weathered the storm. I thought Chloe had been permanently kicked out of our lives. But it hadn’t even been a month, and here she was again—his tragic little stray, making a spectacular return. I looked at Ethan, standing there as her self-appointed protector, and a fatigue so deep it felt like it was in my bones washed over me. It dragged me down, sucking the very air from my lungs. “Fine. Let’s just stop.” 2 My voice was a whisper, so quiet that Ethan froze. He asked me to repeat myself. “What did you say?” “Ava,” he pressed, “what did you just say?” “I said, let’s stop,” I repeated, fighting to keep my voice steady. I was done letting this drama dictate my emotions. “I’ll sign the papers to bail you out. You can keep playing God in your little redemption story. Be her hero.” I ignored the flicker of triumph on Chloe’s face and met Ethan’s stunned gaze. I even managed a small, brittle smile. “But we’re done.” “Ethan.” “Let’s get a divorce.” The silence in the car on the way from the station was heavy enough to suffocate. Ethan refused to accept the divorce, so he forced his way into my passenger seat. Which meant, by extension, his little stray squeezed into the back. Chloe stayed quiet, letting Ethan do the talking. “There’s really nothing between me and Chloe,” he began, trying to keep his temper in check. “I was out with Mark and the guys tonight,” he explained. “We went for karaoke after dinner, and we just happened to run into her.” “You know her life is hard, Ava. She’s got her kid, her parents… she’s all they have. I saw this guy dragging her into his car, so I followed them to the hotel. If it wasn’t for me—” He was cut off by a sound from the back seat. Chloe was weeping softly. “Ava.” “I never wanted to take anything from you,” she said between gasps. “My life… it hasn’t been easy. My ex-husband was abusive. That’s why I left him, to protect my son.” “If I didn’t have him, my little boy…” “If my life were different,” she stopped crying for a moment, her gaze finding Ethan’s in the rearview mirror, full of adoration. “I would fight for him. I would fight and I would claw for a man like him!” “Because he’s Ethan!” “Because he’s a good man!” “Because he—” I slammed on the brakes. The Porsche screeched to a halt in the middle of the street. I turned and looked at Chloe’s stunned face, then at Ethan’s look of profound, moved pity. I laughed. “Well, in that case,” I said, hitting the button to unlock the doors and rolling down the windows. “We’re right in front of a hotel.” “Consider this my blessing.” “You’ve got money for a room, right?” The sneer in my voice was unmistakable as I met Ethan’s darkening gaze. “This time it’s all above board. You have the wife’s official permission.” “Go on.” “No one’s going to call the cops and drag you back to the station.” “And as for whether or not you create another little ‘burden’,” my eyes drifted down to Chloe’s stomach, “that’s your business.” The cheap perfume in the car was overwhelming, a cloying scent that felt like an invasive vine wrapping around my heart, making it hard to breathe. I was trying to control myself, but my words had clearly struck a nerve. Chloe scrambled out of the car, then turned to yell at me. “Ava!” “You’re a cruel, heartless bitch!” The second she was out, Ethan turned on me. “I can’t believe you’ve become this twisted,” he snarled, grabbing my wrist. “Chloe has no one in this city, no friends, no family. Where is she supposed to go this late at night?” 3 “How can you be so cruel to someone who’s done nothing to you?” “Ava! Get out of the car and apologize to her!” His grip was bruising. I looked at this man, the man whose world once revolved entirely around me, and I felt my heart turn to ice, inch by painful inch. I slapped him again, right across the face. “Apologize?” I stared at his shocked expression. “In your dreams.” I reached over, unbuckled his seatbelt, and pointed to the door. “Get out.” He stared at me as if I were a complete stranger, a monster he’d never seen before. “You’re going to regret this,” he bit out. Then, he slammed the door and was gone. Through the window, I watched him run to catch up with his tragic stray. He grabbed her arm. I saw her struggle for a moment, then collapse into his arms, her body shaking with sobs. A chasm cracked open inside my chest, and a bitter wind howled through it. The pain was so sharp that my hands were trembling on the steering wheel. As I finally drove past them, two figures huddled together in the cold night, I saw her. Over Ethan’s shoulder, Chloe’s eyes met mine. She gave me a look of pure, triumphant victory. The message was clear. In this war, she had won. We were in a deep freeze. A cold war. Ethan’s friends started calling, all of them acting as peacemakers, all of them pleading his case. “Ava, he just feels sorry for her. It’s pity, not love. You can’t overthink this,” one of our mutual friends, Mark, told me. “You two have been through so much to get here. The last time Ethan got drunk, he was crying your name. He said… he said Chloe reminds him of how you used to be, all alone and fighting for everything. He thinks by helping her, he’s making up for the times he couldn’t protect you back then.” Hearing Mark talk about our past… it was like a punch to the gut. I remembered us, white-knuckling our way up from nothing. I remembered us as kids, practically fighting stray dogs for scraps. I remembered the day our parents went on a trip together and never came back, killed in the same accident. We were orphans. Then, greedy relatives picked our inheritance clean, and we went from orphans to homeless kids on the street. I remembered Ethan holding me tight, his small body trembling as he promised me. “Ava.” “I’m going to give you a home. I swear it.” Back then, a “home” was an impossible dream. Among the city’s millions of lights, not a single one was for us. Every brick, every window, was impossibly expensive. But Ethan did it. He put me in a penthouse apartment in the highest glass tower downtown. He filled it with our memories. He was so afraid I’d hurt myself that he put soft, cushioned bumpers on every sharp corner of the furniture. He used to always say. “Ava, in my heart, you’ll always be a kid.” “I want my Ava.” “To be the happiest princess in the world.” “My little princess.” Now. Now, my friends were telling me: “Come on, every guy messes around a little. Ethan’s one of the good ones. He doesn’t gamble, he doesn’t have a mistress. His whole world is you, Ava. Stop making this a big deal.” I knew what this was. They were his messengers, sent to build a bridge for me to crawl back across. All I had to do was take the first step, and just like every other fight we’d ever had, we could pretend nothing happened. We could turn the page. But for the first time, I didn’t want to. I was stubborn. So stubborn that when I saw Chloe’s latest post on Instagram, something inside me finally snapped. It was a picture of her and her son on a Ferris wheel, both of them beaming. The caption read: My son says it doesn’t matter if a dad isn’t biological. As long as there’s love, you’re family. And there, in the corner of the photo, was a man’s hand. A hand with long, elegant fingers. I would know that hand anywhere. I’d held it for almost thirty years. On one of those fingers was a ring I designed myself, the one Ethan had custom-made for our wedding. 4 My heart ached until it was numb, until I thought I couldn’t feel anything anymore. Then my phone buzzed. It was a video from Chloe. In the video, her son, Leo, was holding onto Ethan’s arm, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Uncle Ethan, can you be my daddy?” “Can I call you Dad?” The boy swung his arm playfully. “You’re the best uncle in the whole world. You’re my superhero.” “I really, really like you, and I wish I had a dad just like you.” “Please, can you be my dad? Pleeease?” Chloe’s voice floated in from off-camera. “Leo, don’t be silly.” And then Ethan’s voice, gently chiding her. “How is that silly?” He knelt, bringing himself down to the boy’s level, his eyes impossibly soft. “You like me?” The boy nodded enthusiastically. “You want me to be your dad?” An even more vigorous nod. And then Ethan said, “Okay.” “Then you can call me Dad. How does that sound?” The boy’s shriek of joy echoed through the video. A moment later, a voice message from Chloe arrived. “Ava.” “Tell me. What do you have left to fight me with?” “You should just give up.” I listened to her voice, a triumphant echo in the silent room, as my best friend, Maya, watched me with worried eyes. “Ava, the baby… are you really not going to tell him?” Maya said, “If you just tell him you’re pregnant, that you’re having his child, I know he’ll come back to you.” “But I don’t want him to.” I placed a hand on my abdomen. A new life was growing there. Our baby. Ethan’s and mine. The child we had hoped for, for so many years. But now… now, I didn’t want to be a mother. Not if it meant bringing a child into a life shadowed by a broken home, just like mine had been. I looked at Maya. “The moment he chose Chloe, the moment he agreed to be another child’s father…” “He lost the right to be the father of mine.” The day of my scheduled abortion, I saw him. Ethan was at the hospital with Chloe and her son. The second he saw me, he instinctively dropped the boy’s hand. “Ava.” “What are you doing here?” He saw the clinic paperwork in my hand and started towards me. “Are you sick?” “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you tell me?” Before I could answer, Chloe shoved her son forward. The boy immediately burst into tears and grabbed Ethan’s arm. “Daddy!” “My tummy hurts,” he wailed, pulling Ethan away from me. “Ow, ow, it hurts so bad!” I watched the conflict in Ethan’s eyes. The hesitation. And then, the decision. He scooped the boy into his arms and looked back at me, his face a mixture of apology and impatience. “Honey, we have to prioritize. You understand, right?” He started to walk away. I felt a hysterical laugh build in my chest. Just then, Maya came back with the payment receipts, saw the whole scene, and exploded. “You son of a bitch!” “How dare you show your face here!” “Oh, this is rich,” she stalked towards Ethan. “No time for your wife, but plenty of time to play daddy to this little bastard, huh?” She grabbed Ethan’s arm. “You’re not going anywhere! Do you have any idea what Ava is—” “I’m not a bastard!” The boy launched himself out of Ethan’s arms and charged at Maya. She wasn’t ready for it. I reacted without thinking, shoving her out of the way. The boy’s hard little head slammed directly into my abdomen. A universe of pain exploded inside me. My back hit the wall, and I slid to the floor, my whole body trembling. But the boy wasn’t done. He kicked me, his small sneaker connecting with my stomach. “You bitch!” he screamed, his face red and tear-streaked. “You’re a nasty bitch!” “You’re trying to steal my daddy!” “You nasty, evil bitch!” A crowd was gathering. Murmurs turned into accusations, all aimed at me. I was the homewrecker. Shameless. Disgusting. And Ethan… Ethan just stood on the edge of the crowd, looking down at me. As if he was waiting for me to admit I was wrong. As if he was waiting for an apology. But I was too weak, the pain was too much. I could barely breathe, let alone speak. “E…than…” “Ethan… help…” My voice was a shredded whisper. I wanted him to call a doctor. But the boy chose that moment to throw himself on the floor, rolling and screaming that his stomach was killing him. I saw one last flicker of indecision in Ethan’s eyes before it vanished. He picked up the boy, and as he turned to leave, he looked down at me one last time. “Ava.” “You really need to take a long, hard look at yourself.”

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The buzz was frantic, a desperate vibration against the steel of my locker. It was nearly midnight, and I had just walked out of a ten-hour cranial surgery. My phone felt like a foreign object. It was a notification from the hospital’s group chat. Mia Collins, the new surgical intern in my department, had tagged everyone. “Getting married tomorrow! Please, please, please come share our joy! And no gifts necessary, my fiancé is taking care of everything! ;)” I was so tired my bones ached. I tapped out a polite reply out of pure reflex: “Sorry, I have a conflict. Congratulations and have a beautiful wedding.” A second later, a private message from her lit up my screen. “Dr. Hayes, don’t be an idiot. My fiancé is a major investor in this hospital. Are you sure you want to be on his bad side?” Another message followed before I could even process the first. “I already put your name down to work the event—you know, passing canapés. I figured an old maid like you would jump at the chance to hunt for a rich husband at a place like this.” Then, a photo appeared in the main group chat. A professional wedding portrait. When I saw the face of the man kissing her—my husband’s face—a laugh clawed its way out of my throat, sharp and humorless. Liam. The man who owed his entire existence to my family, cheating on me with an intern and planning to marry her? I opened the group chat and typed a single line. “Since you’re not accepting gifts, allow me to bring a wedding toast instead. It’ll be one to remember.” 1 I shut off my phone and drove home. The house was a mess, just as I’d left it in my rush that morning. A pair of my running shoes was still kicked over by the door. It was clear Liam hadn’t been home either. Was he too busy planning his new life to remember the old one? He was a classic story. The brilliant boy from a dirt-poor town in the Appalachians who clawed his way to the top. The man everyone called a visionary, a self-made hospital investor. It seemed that my long-standing silence and preoccupation with my work had allowed him to forget who wrote that story for him. He’d started to believe his own press. A cold smile touched my lips as I dialed our house manager. “Arthur, I want you to freeze every asset in Liam Croft’s name. Cut off all his secondary credit cards. Effective immediately.” “And one more thing,” I added. “I need you to prepare a gift for me. It needs to be delivered to the Grand Astoria ballroom tomorrow morning.” I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I should have been exhausted, but instead, a sick, feverish energy hummed through my veins. Just as I was about to leave in the morning, a text from Liam came through. “Morning, my love. You must be exhausted with all those surgeries. I’ll give you a proper massage when I get back from this business trip.” Another one followed. “I have a surprise for you, by the way!” He was playing the part of the doting husband, as always. I typed back: “I have a surprise for you, too. I think you’ll find it unforgettable.” The moment I walked into the ballroom, I saw her. Mia, preening in a designer wedding gown, holding court with a group of our colleagues from the hospital. “Honestly, no gifts! My fiancé is so generous, he wouldn’t dream of it,” she was saying, her voice dripping with false modesty. “He’s the biggest investor in Metropolitan General. From now on, you’re all my family. He’ll take good care of you.” Someone spotted me. A nurse with a perpetually sour expression. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Isn’t that our ice queen, Dr. Hayes? What brings you to Mia’s wedding?” “Yeah, we can never get you to come out for drinks,” another chimed in, a sycophant who trailed Mia like a puppy. “Don’t tell me you’re here to wish her well.” The first nurse smirked. “I hear Dr. Hayes is still single at thirty. She must’ve heard Mia’s fiancé was an investor and decided to do a little networking.” “Dr. Hayes, I’m shocked,” the puppy added. “I always thought you were so above it all. Turns out you’re just like the rest of them.” I ignored the yapping clowns. I walked straight to Mia, pushing the gift Arthur had prepared—a box so large it came up to my chest—in front of her. It was wrapped in pristine white paper, but tied with a single, blood-red ribbon. Mia’s face turned to stone. “Evelyn! What the hell is this? I was kind enough to get you a job serving hors d’oeuvres so you could meet some actual eligible men.” “What’s with the morbid wrapping? Who are you trying to insult?” she spat. I met her gaze. “I have a dog at home. He’s in heat, constantly pissing on everything to mark his territory. It occurred to me he might have pissed on you by mistake.” I gestured to the box. “I thought this might suit the occasion.” Mia’s face flushed a blotchy, furious red. “What did you just say, you bitch? Who’s a dog? You came here to start trouble, didn’t you?” “You’re just a pathetic old hag who got dumped! You see me, young, beautiful, marrying into a fortune, and you’re green with envy!” she shrieked. “Just you wait! My fiancé will be here any minute, and with one word, he’ll have you kicked out of the hospital for good!” I took a slow, deliberate step back, just out of range of her spittle, and tilted my head toward the giant box. “Calm down. It’s time to open your present.” In front of everyone, I ripped the paper away. Inside was a massive, funereal wreath of black roses. Stretched across it were two satin ribbons, printed with elegant gold script. The left ribbon read: THE WHORE & THE PARASITE. The right: TILL DEATH DO YOU PART. And across the top, a larger banner proclaimed: A MATCH MADE IN HELL. The ballroom fell silent. Mia was trembling with rage. “Evelyn! You sick, twisted CUNT!” “You’re jealous that I’m marrying a man like Liam, a titan of industry, so you pull this disgusting stunt for attention!” I dug a finger into my ear, her screeching was giving me a headache. “Mia, let me confirm one last time. You are absolutely certain you want to marry this man?” She lifted her chin, defiant. “Of course I am! My fiancé, Liam Croft, is the hospital’s biggest investor. He’s worth billions! He makes more in a day than a pathetic doctor like you will see in a lifetime!” She gestured grandly to the room. “When I marry him, I become Mrs. Croft. I’ll be the woman all of you look up to for the rest of your lives!” The sycophants behind her nodded in agreement. “Mia was born for this life. Not like some people, trying to climb the social ladder at her age.” “Dr. Hayes, after a scene like this, how are you ever going to show your face in the department again?” “You just pissed off the investor’s wife. I’d start updating your resume if I were you.” It was almost funny. Climb the ladder? What would they say if they knew I was the one who built the ladder, planted it in the ground, and held it steady for him? Saving lives was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do. This hospital, Hayes Memorial, was my father’s graduation gift to me when I finished my residency. He built it so I could practice medicine in its purest form, free from politics and bureaucracy, and focus solely on my ideals. Liam Croft, an investor? He was nothing more than a stray I’d taken in, a dog I could have put down at any moment. Seeing my silence, Mia thought she’d won. Her smirk widened as she pulled out her phone and dialed, pointedly hitting the speaker button. “Honey, where are you? Someone is bullying me! You have to come quick!” she cried into the phone. “It’s that doctor from my department, Evelyn Hayes! She crashed our wedding and brought a funeral wreath to curse us!” Liam’s voice came through the speaker, tight with panic. “What? Evelyn? Baby, don’t worry, I’m almost there. Whatever you do, do not get into a fight with her!” After hanging up, Mia looked as if she’d just been crowned queen. “You heard him? He’s coming for me!” she sneered. “You are so dead, Evelyn. Not only are you getting fired, but I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted from every hospital in this state!” The colleagues around me started whispering, pointing. “It’s over. She really pissed off Mr. Croft.” “Dr. Hayes is usually so sharp. What a reckless move.” “A woman in her thirties, fighting with an intern over a man. She should take a good look in the mirror. What does she possibly have that compares to Mia?” Mia’s eyes glinted with triumph. “Evelyn, I’m giving you one last chance. For the sake of our professional relationship. Get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness right now.” She kicked the wreath. “Then eat this disgusting thing, and I might consider asking my fiancé to let you keep your job.” “Otherwise,” she smiled, “I’ll make your life a living hell.” I stepped forward, closing the distance between us until I could see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. “You want me to kneel to you?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Are you worthy?” In the next second, I pulled two red marriage certificates from my purse and threw them squarely at her face. “Open your eyes and look closely. The billionaire fiancé you’re so proud of, Liam Croft, is my lawfully wedded husband.” I let the words hang in the air. “You… you’re nothing but a cheap little homewrecker.” The certificates struck her cheek and fluttered to the floor. Mia stared, stunned for a few seconds, before erupting into loud, theatrical laughter. “Hahahaha! Evelyn, has your desperation for a man finally driven you insane?” she howled. “You forged marriage licenses to fantasize about my fiancé? Have you no shame?” She scooped them up without a glance and tore them into tiny pieces. “I’d heard rumors that some of the female doctors at the hospital were sleeping around, but I never imagined it was you!” she announced to the room. “The second you found out my fiancé was an investor, you lost all self-respect, didn’t you? I bet you’d drop your panties the second he walked in the room!” She turned to the guests. “Everyone, can you believe this woman? She’s a senior physician, and she’s stooping to forging documents to slander my fiancé! How pathetic can you get?” A doctor who was always kissing up to Mia stepped forward. “Dr. Hayes, we’ve known you for years. I never realized you were this… vile.” “A man like Mr. Croft? Why would he ever look at an old woman like you? Do yourself a favor and get out of here before you embarrass yourself further!” A mob mentality took over. Hands began to shove me. “Get out! Don’t ruin Mia’s wedding!” “Shameless bitch!” I stumbled backward, the corner of a table digging sharply into my lower back. The exhaustion from the ten-hour surgery, combined with a sleepless night, washed over me in a dizzying wave. My vision swam with black spots. I braced myself against a wall to keep from falling. Mia seized the moment, grabbing a flute of champagne and flinging its contents in my face. “Get on your knees and apologize! If you beg, I might still let you serve the appetizers!” And in that moment, an entirely unexpected person appeared. “Evie? What are you doing here?” I turned, my head snapping up. It was my mentor, Dr. Peterson, a titan in the American medical community. I ignored the sticky champagne dripping down my face and rushed to his side. “Dr. Peterson, what… what are you doing here?” He was the man I respected most in the world. He had written my recommendation for my fellowship at Johns Hopkins. He was more of a father to me than a teacher. Dr. Peterson patted my hand, his expression troubled. “I heard one of our junior staff was getting married. I thought I’d stop by to offer my congratulations.” He sighed heavily. “I didn’t expect… this.” His gaze fell on the shredded wreath and then on Mia’s venomous expression, his brow furrowing in disapproval. Mia immediately ran to him, bursting into tears. “Dr. Peterson, you have to help me! This woman is using her seniority to bully me!” Dr. Peterson was famously protective of his younger staff. “Evie, what’s going on?” he asked, his tone stern. “Whatever your disagreements, this is hardly the time or place.” Before I could explain, Mia launched into her performance. “Dr. Peterson, Evelyn is insane! She’s obsessed with my fiancé! She came here to ruin everything, she even brought that… that horrible wreath to curse me!” The surrounding colleagues chimed in, twisting the narrative until it was unrecognizable. Listening to them, Dr. Peterson’s face filled with disappointment. “Evelyn, you’re a leader in our department. A role model for the younger generation. How could you behave with so little grace?” “Apologize to the girl and take that thing with you,” he commanded. A chill went through me. Even my own mentor, without knowing a single fact, had chosen to believe the seemingly weaker party. Just then, Mia lunged forward and smashed a wine bottle against the side of my head. “There’s a special place in hell for women who ruin other people’s happiness!” she screamed. “I’m three months pregnant with Liam’s child! It’s too late for a pathetic slut like you to climb into his bed now!” Mia and her followers grabbed me, trying to force my head down. Shards of glass from the bottle scraped against my cheek. But through the pain and the humiliation, I started to laugh. A low, unhinged chuckle that grew louder and louder. Pregnant? Oh, this was better than I could have imagined. I pulled out my phone, ignoring the sting of my wounds, and sent a single text to Arthur. Mia froze, stunned by my laughter. I used her hesitation to shove her off and scramble to my feet. I looked at every single face in the room, my gaze finally landing on Mia’s stomach. “Since you want this baby so badly,” I said, my voice ringing with clarity, “and you’re so desperate to be Mrs. Croft…” “Then allow me to give you one more gift.” Mia’s face paled. “What are you planning now?” A few seconds later, the massive projector screen at the front of the ballroom flickered to life. As the image came into focus, the color drained completely from Mia’s face. And just at that moment, Liam Croft, my husband, rushed into the room, stopping dead in his tracks as he stared at the screen.

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The night I got married, my wife’s best friend kept her out drinking on a rooftop until dawn, leaving me alone in our wedding suite. When I finally went to find them, her friend was gloriously drunk. She grabbed my arm and launched into a detailed account of all the ways Olivia’s ex-boyfriend was perfect for her, and all the ways I wasn’t. And Olivia, my wife, just sat there and said nothing. … It was two in the morning when I found them on the roof of the hotel. Olivia and Maya were still drunk, empty beer bottles scattered around their feet like fallen soldiers. Maya saw me and let out a slurred, theatrical laugh. “Ethan’s here! Perfect timing for a trip down memory lane.” She offered me a bottle. I gently pushed it away. “Sorry, I don’t drink.” She giggled, and I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or malice. “Ethan, you’re probably not going to like what I have to say, but for both your sakes, it needs to be said.” Her tone shifted, becoming unnervingly serious. “You know, Leo was Olivia’s ex,” she began, her words heavy. “Back when they were together, we did everything as a pack. Dinner, drinks… hell, we’d run a five-stack in Valorant until the sun came up.” She gestured vaguely toward Olivia. “Since you two got together, Liv never has time for us anymore. Can’t call her out for late-night food runs. She has to sneak out to pull an all-nighter with us, then rush back to be awake and perky for your morning chat, and then she has to be on a call with you while she falls asleep.” “I just don’t get it,” she said, rolling up her sleeves as if preparing for a fight. “Why are you so high-maintenance? I’ve never seen a guy demand so much.” She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but all of us girls… we feel sorry for Olivia. We don’t say it to her face, but none of us thought you two would last.” “We all thought she’d get back with Leo. I mean, who could possibly be a better match for her? And then, suddenly, you’re married.” She sighed dramatically. “But hey, you’re together now, so I genuinely wish you the best. Consider everything I just said a fart in the wind. And I don’t care what you think of me after this. I’d do anything for my best friend.” My gaze shifted to Olivia. She was silent, her eyes fixed on the tips of her shoes. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. This was the “best friend” Olivia always talked about. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. At the wedding reception earlier, during the maid of honor speech, while everyone else wished us a lifetime of happiness, Maya had smirked into the microphone and said, “Even though you’re married, you better still show up for game nights.” The emcee had laughed it off. “Sounds like the bride’s got a strict warden at home!” I didn’t find it funny then. I certainly didn’t find it funny now. 2 I remember the first time Olivia was supposed to introduce me to her “best friends.” It was early in our relationship. I’d made an effort, picked out a nice shirt. While we were waiting at the restaurant, Olivia took a call. “What’s taking you guys so long?” she asked, her voice hushed. “I told you, my boyfriend is with me.” I couldn’t hear the other side, just the faint, sharp spike of Maya’s voice through the receiver: “It’s our girls’ night, what’s he doing here?” Olivia’s back went rigid. She walked out of the private dining room, phone pressed to her ear. When she returned, she avoided my eyes and reached for her coat. “They had something come up last minute. We have to cancel.” Only a fool would have believed that. “Your friends don’t want to meet me, do they?” “No, of course not.” “Then why did you have to take the call outside?” “The signal was bad,” she said, a little too quickly. “Look, don’t be so sensitive. They’re my best friends. They don’t have a problem with you. You’ll see once you get to know them.” I was skeptical, but her words put a strange pressure on me. It felt like an audition. If they were so great, and they didn’t like me, then the problem must be mine. When the formal introduction finally happened, there were four of them. Three women—Maya, and another named Chloe—and one guy, Leo. They were already seated when Olivia and I arrived. There were curt nods and a round of brief hellos before they immediately resumed their previous conversation, as if we hadn’t walked in. “Another round?” someone asked. “Please, you’re always the first one under the table.” I tried to slide into the easy, cheerful atmosphere. “So what does everyone usually like to drink?” The laughter died instantly. The room, which had been buzzing with energy, fell silent. The quick, darting glances they exchanged made my skin prickle. Leo finally spoke, without looking at me. “Nothing special. Whatever’s on tap.” He then turned to Maya. “I’m not in the mood for Bud Light. Get something else.” Maya grinned. “Yes, sir, your highness.” As Leo stood up, he knocked over a glass of water. It splashed across the table, soaking the front of his shirt. I was closest to him and held out a napkin. He didn’t even glance at it. He completely ignored me, turning to Maya. “Seriously? My favorite white shirt,” he complained. “Anybody got a napkin?” People scrambled to help. I gently tugged on his sleeve, holding the napkin out again. It was like I was a ghost. He didn’t react, just called out toward Maya, “Hurry up, I’m dying over here.” My hand hung awkwardly in the air before I slowly pulled it back. Under the table, Olivia patted my knee. “He didn’t hear you,” she whispered. “Don’t take it personally.” After the drinks arrived, the conversation turned to a new TV show everyone was watching. Coincidentally, it was one I’d been following, too. We started chatting, and for a moment, I felt myself connecting with the others, especially Chloe. “Oh my god, you watch it too? You’re one of us!” she said excitedly. “Give me your number, I’ll add you to our fan group chat.” I was about to pull out my phone when Leo set his glass down on the table. It wasn’t a slam, but the clink was sharp and deliberate, cutting through the chatter. Everyone instinctively looked at him. He was frowning, studying his hands. “This is so annoying,” he muttered. The air froze. All attention snapped back to him. The words I was about to say were caught in my throat. “Uh oh, what’s wrong with our pretty boy today?” Maya teased. “Who pissed you off?” Leo just turned his head, giving her a cold shoulder. “Come on, what is it?” Chloe nudged him. “Tell us.” Finally, bathed in the spotlight of their collective gaze, he spoke, his voice laced with a theatrical mix of annoyance and a subtle, preening pride. “You guys are so nosy. It’s nothing, really. Just this new girl at my office. She’s asked me out seven times this month.” “Whoa, persistent!” Maya slapped the table. “Who is this chick? We’ll take care of her for you.” “Nah, it’s fine. She’ll give up eventually.” “Maybe Olivia can help?” someone suggested, glancing at her slyly. “Your offices are in the same building. Super convenient.” Olivia’s hand, holding her water glass, paused for a fraction of a second. She didn’t reply. Leo’s eyes finally flickered toward Olivia, then floated over to me, a feather-light touch. A faint smirk played on his lips. “No need. Besides, someone might get jealous now.” He sighed dramatically. “You all promised you’d stay single with me until I found a girlfriend, and then Olivia had to go and bail on us.” And in that moment, I understood. He didn’t give a damn about the girl from his office. He just couldn’t stand it, not even for a few minutes, when he wasn’t the center of attention. My very existence was the problem. Seeing my silence, Leo laughed it off. “Just kidding, man. This is just how we are. Don’t take it so seriously.” He then turned to Olivia, speaking to her directly for the first time all night. “How’s the ankle?” Olivia was in the middle of placing a piece of short rib on my plate. She didn’t stop, just gave a noncommittal “Mm,” as she finished. Her eyes stayed on my plate, her voice as neutral as if discussing the weather. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt to walk anymore.” It was only later that I learned to read the knowing, subtle expressions that passed between them. Leo’s question was a thread, and he pulled it. “Did Olivia ever tell you about our hiking trip?” I shook my head. Olivia and I had our own lives; we trusted each other enough to have separate experiences. Chloe jumped in. “We weren’t even an hour in when we hit this stream. Leo didn’t want to get his new sneakers wet, so we tried to find another way around.” “But you know those canyon trails, they twist and turn. Going off-path is a bad idea,” she continued. “We were trying to find a shallower crossing, but the stream just got wider and we all got separated. We were lost until after dark.” “Leo ended up twisting his ankle,” she finished. “And Olivia basically had to carry him out of there.” “It wasn’t until they got to the ER that we realized Liv’s ankle was sprained too. She never said a word.” A faint, self-satisfied smile hung on Leo’s lips. I turned to Olivia. “I was on that business trip then. Why didn’t you tell me?” She smiled gently. “And do what? Make you worry from a thousand miles away? It was nothing, just a minor sprain.” “But when I burned my hand last month, you changed your flight, took a red-eye, and sat with me all night. Why is it different when it’s you?” Chloe chimed in playfully. “Aww, stop it, you two! Boyfriends get special treatment, I guess.” Clack. The sharp sound of chopsticks hitting a plate. It was Leo. He stared down at his dish, his expression unreadable. Maya saw it and quickly clapped her hands. “Alright, alright, enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. Let’s play a game!” At her suggestion, we started a round of Truth or Dare, spinning a beer bottle. As if guided by fate, the first spin landed on Olivia. Leo asked the question. “Simple one.” He paused for effect. “Everyone at this table falls into a river. Who do you save first?” The air grew thick. Olivia’s brow furrowed slightly. She squeezed my hand under the table. Her voice was perfectly level. “Ethan.” The smile on Leo’s face froze for a split second. Later, it was his turn to spin. The bottle pointed to Olivia again. He was drunk now, his words slurring. “Olivia,” he started, his voice trembling with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Do you… do you ever miss…” Even an idiot could feel the shift in the room. Maya shot to her feet. “Okay, he’s wasted. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I think we’re done for the night. We’ll get him home.” She and Chloe scrambled to pull a limp Leo to his feet. He sagged against them, all the energy drained from his body. Olivia didn’t look at him. She stood up silently. I took her coat from the back of her chair and draped it over her shoulders. The gesture was careful, deliberate, as if the tense interrogation had never happened. “Let’s go home,” she said to me, her voice flat. The room was a mess of dirty plates and the silent, lingering smoke of a battle just fought. The earlier noise felt like a dream. Now, only a cold quiet remained. The other two friends gave me a quick, tight smile and hurried out. We walked to the restaurant’s entrance in silence. The night air was cool. Maya and the others left without so much as a proper goodbye. As their taillights vanished around the corner, Olivia let out a nearly inaudible sigh and squeezed my hand. “Home,” she said. 3 In the car, I broke the silence. “I don’t think your friends like me. Especially Leo.” Olivia, key in the ignition, paused. “He was just drunk and talking nonsense. They all like you, don’t overthink it.” “This was our first time meeting. Don’t jump to conclusions. You’ll see.” “I don’t want to see them again.” She looked at me, her expression softening. “Ethan, I’ve known them for years. We’ve only been together for one. I can’t just cut them out of my life because we’re a couple.” “That’s just Leo’s personality,” she added. “He’s not a bad guy. You just have to get used to him.” “I’m not trying to isolate you from your friends, Olivia. But you have a group where one guy is the center of the universe, and all the women cater to him. My presence makes him uncomfortable, and it makes everyone else uncomfortable.” She was quiet for a long moment. “Okay,” she finally said. “Let’s not rush to judgment. If you don’t like it, we won’t see them for a while. Let’s just put it on hold.” At that moment, her phone buzzed. It was a group chat notification from Maya. I couldn’t help but see the message preview on the screen. “Tomorrow is Leo’s birthday. Come alone.” 4 But I didn’t know about the party then. The morning of Leo’s birthday, Olivia was up early. When I woke up, she had already come back from somewhere and made breakfast. A green smoothie and avocado toast, my favorite. The plate was still warm; she must have timed it perfectly. My internal clock was regular, and she always managed to have breakfast ready just as I was getting up. But this time, she wasn’t in the apartment. I checked my phone. No new messages. Nothing from her. I finished eating and still, she wasn’t back. I found myself staring at the empty plate, my mind racing, until I finally decided to just clear my head. My approach to relationships has always been simple: focus on the feeling, not the speculation. And on the whole, Olivia was a wonderful girlfriend. She was good to me. I took my plate to the sink. Just then, the door opened and Olivia came in, still in her workout clothes. She immediately put on an apron and walked over. “The florist just got a new shipment of Sunrich sunflowers and Juliet roses. They’re in the living room. If you don’t get them in water soon, they’ll wilt.” Her tone was pointedly casual. It was quite a detour for her to go all the way to that specific flower shop after her morning run. I was about to say something when her phone started buzzing incessantly with notifications. “Your phone’s blowing up. Don’t you want to get that?” She slipped it into her pocket and leaned in to give me a quick, soft kiss. “It’s nothing important.” The sound of the faucet turning on filled the kitchen. “Dishes are my job, flowers are yours.” I went to the living room and gathered the bouquet, then headed to the entryway closet to find the shears. Inside, a high-end designer shopping bag was tucked away on the shelf. “What’s this?” I called out, holding up the bag. There was no answer from the kitchen. The silence stretched on for so long I started to wonder if I’d even spoken aloud. When Olivia came out, drying her hands, she saw me on the sofa with the bag on the coffee table. She was completely composed. The running water must have drowned out my question. “I was going to give it to you tomorrow for the first day of autumn,” she said, glancing at the bag. “You found it early.” I looked up at her. “Autumn?” “Everyone on Instagram is posting their ‘first pumpkin spice latte of the season.’ You don’t like sweet coffee, so I bought you a bracelet instead.” I opened the bag and the box inside. Two identical men’s chain bracelets lay nestled side-by-side. I paused, then couldn’t help but smile. “Was it a buy-one-get-one-free sale?” I teased. “Or did you buy one for someone else and forget to take it out?” Olivia feigned a look of annoyed frustration. “Oh, you found me out. Now what am I going to do?” “Olivia!” I shot her a look. She laughed and pulled out her phone, showing me a screenshot from the sales associate. Two delicate chains were layered on a model’s wrist in a stylish, overlapping fashion. The caption from the salesperson read: “Ma’am, I recommend getting two for a stacked look. It’s the new trend this year.” She took one of the bracelets and carefully fastened it around my wrist. “Do you like it?” she asked, her thumb gently stroking the metal. I nodded, satisfied. “I do.” As for the incessant calls that morning, I found out later they were from Maya, on behalf of Leo. He always seemed to have some “not important” reason that required Olivia’s immediate attention. But in the end, Olivia didn’t go. That evening, when Maya showed up at our door, she was practically radiating anger. Olivia stood in the doorway, making no move to invite her in. “Why weren’t you there today?” Maya demanded. “Isn’t it obvious? I was with my boyfriend.” Maya’s brow furrowed. “Are you kidding me? Do you know what day it is? He didn’t say anything, but he was waiting for you all day.” “I don’t care what you have going on, you are coming with me right now.” Olivia didn’t budge. “Is Ethan forcing you to stay? Is he not letting you go out?” “It’s a special day, Maya. You two can be attached at the hip every other day of the year, I don’t care. But today, you have to come.” Olivia’s expression remained unchanged. “Did he ask you to come get me?” “No. But you know what he’s like. Are you really going to make him ask? You’re the girl. What’s the big deal if you give in a little?” A small, wry smile touched Olivia’s lips. “The only person I make concessions for is my partner. That was true then, and it’s true now.” “How long have you known us? And how long have you known him? I’ll pass along your message, Olivia. But don’t come crying to me when you regret this.” Maya turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Olivia said nothing. She just went back to the kitchen and continued making dinner. After that night, I rarely saw her friends. But I knew that in her heart, Maya and the others were still the most important people in the world to her. 5 Getting married to Olivia felt like the natural next step. My decision was a rational one. She was financially independent, had strong morals, treated me with kindness, and was beautiful. And, of course, we loved each other. At my age, I’d long since abandoned the fairy tale of a flawless, all-consuming love. To me, marriage was more like a pragmatic partnership. As long as certain lines weren’t crossed, I could overlook a lot. As long as the drama wasn’t brought to my doorstep, I was happy to stay out of it. My priority has always been my own peace of mind. Right now, Maya’s drunken monologue was a direct assault on that peace. But what bothered me more was Olivia’s silence. A decent partner, at the very least, defends their spouse in front of others. Her quiet acquiescence was a form of permission, and it was colder and more cutting than any of Maya’s slurred insults. I’m not a confrontational person by nature. My instinct is to create distance, to simply remove myself from people I don’t connect with. Those who truly know me would never dare to be so brazen. This was, without a doubt, a first. I let out a soft laugh, the sound surprisingly sharp in the night air. “Maya.” I finally spoke, my voice devoid of emotion, holding only a cool, detached curiosity. “Listening to you, one would think you were the one in love with Leo, fighting for his lost honor.” She froze, her mouth hanging open, speechless. My gaze drifted slowly to Olivia, who remained silent. A smile without warmth touched my lips. “Olivia, it seems your male best friend is deeply devoted to you.” My tone was even, but every word was a needle. “Why don’t you make a choice? You can go with her, finish this melodrama of undying friendship…” I paused, my eyes snapping back to Maya, the last trace of feigned politeness gone, replaced by pure, glacial impatience. “Or, you can make her disappear from my sight. Immediately.” I turned to leave without looking at either of them again, my final words landing squarely in Olivia’s ear. “Think carefully. Decide if you want to keep being someone else’s best friend, or if you want to be my wife. And once you’ve decided, don’t ever let these messy people and their messy lives stain mine again.” With that, I walked away without a backward glance. I didn’t go home. I found a hotel near my office and checked in.

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My phone is never off. Never. As one of the top cardiac surgeons at Port City General, a single missed call can be the difference between a life saved and a life lost. But on this Halloween night, I shut it off. Powered it down completely and slept until the sun sliced through my blinds. I did it because, in another life, I didn’t. In that life, my fiancé’s little resident, Chloe, thought it would be a brilliant idea to dress up as a ghost for Halloween and “cheer up” a post-op patient. The patient, an elderly woman fresh off my table, was so terrified she went into cardiac arrest, her sutures blowing out in a massive hemorrhage. I had been on a rare, much-needed vacation. I rushed back, scrubbing in for a brutal eighteen-hour battle under the OR lights to drag that woman back from the brink. Chloe was fired on the spot for gross negligence, a clear violation of hospital policy that nearly caused a catastrophic incident. My fiancé, Dr. Ethan Cole, tried to plead her case with the director, but I stopped him. “The patient you were responsible for almost died because of your intern, Ethan. You’re lucky I was here to clean up the mess, otherwise, this malpractice suit would have ended your career.” After losing her job, a despondent Chloe jumped from her apartment building. Ethan never said a word about it. Years went by, and he climbed the ladder, becoming a nationally celebrated surgeon. Then my own heart, overworked and worn out, finally gave out. I needed surgery. I trusted him. But on the operating table, he swapped the anesthetic for an amphetamine. As my heart hammered against my ribs, he played a horror movie on the monitor in the OR. His last words to me were hissed over the frantic beeping of the machines. “It was just an accident with Chloe. You had to be the hero, didn’t you? You couldn’t just let it go. You had to destroy her. This is your penance.” Trapped between the drug-fueled terror and the flickering screen, my heart simply gave up. I woke up, gasping. I was back. Back on the morning of the day Chloe played ghost. What she never knew, what none of them knew, was that the patient she terrorized was the mother of Nico Costello. And in this city, everyone knew Nico Costello was a man who loved his mother. 1 The next morning, I took my time. A long shower, a slow coffee. By the time I walked into the cardiac wing, the air was thick with panic. Ethan grabbed my arm, his eyes shot with blood. “Audrey, thank God! Where have you been? It’s a disaster.” He practically dragged me toward the ICU. “Chloe was just joking around with a patient yesterday for Halloween, and the old woman just… she coded. Massive bleeding. I’ve been calling you all night! Why didn’t you answer? Where the hell were you?” I feigned a look of innocent confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m on vacation. This sounds like a problem caused by someone ignoring hospital regulations. It has nothing to do with me.” Chloe was huddled on a bench nearby, her face chalk-white. The rest of the staff was buzzing with fear and anger. “This is all your fault, Chloe! ‘Art therapy,’ you called it?” one of the senior nurses hissed. “This is a hospital, not a frat party! Don’t you know who that patient’s son is? He’s not someone you mess with!” “She’s circling the drain now. This whole department could go down with you.” The criticism sent another wave of panic across Chloe’s face. When she saw me, she leaped to her feet, her finger pointed accusingly. “It’s her fault! It’s all her fault!” She turned to Ethan, desperate. “I called her the second it happened! She had to have seen it. She ignored my calls on purpose! She wants us to fail!” Ethan’s head snapped toward me, his confusion hardening into accusation. “She’s right. You’re the best we have, Audrey. It’s your duty to help. You just vanished.” He stepped closer, his voice low and furious. “I called you over a hundred times. Why didn’t you pick up? You did this deliberately.” He wasn’t wrong. I could have fixed this. I could have been the hero again. Instead, I just laughed, a dry, bitter sound. I walked over to the duty roster on the wall and tapped a name under the patient’s file. “First of all, Ethan, you fought to take this case. And Chloe is your resident. By any measure, you’re the primary physician responsible.” I met his glare without flinching. “And second, I was at a spa five hundred miles away. What did you expect me to do, fly back?” 2 Chloe stared at the duty roster, then looked to Ethan for help, her expression pleading. He was at a loss, finally just spitting out a venomous retort. “She’s just some old woman. If she dies, it’s her own bad luck. You can’t blame Chloe for that.” One of our older colleagues couldn’t stand it anymore. He bypassed Ethan completely and grabbed my hand, his grip tight with urgency. “Dr. Ross, we all know Chloe caused this mess,” he said, his voice low. “But the patient is critical. You’re the only one who can save her. Please, don’t let your anger at these two… these two degenerates… get in the way.” I gave him a reassuring nod. The truth was, I felt safe turning off my phone because I trusted my team. I knew they were skilled enough to keep the patient stable. Even showing up ten hours later than I did in my last life, I knew she still had a fighting chance. I had waited. I let the crisis deepen, let the panic fester. I needed everyone, especially Ethan and Chloe, to be reminded of exactly who held the real power here. After a quick, thorough scrub-in, I changed into my surgical gear and got to work. The operating room became my world. For eight straight hours, I fought. Finally, the patient’s vitals stabilized. She was out of immediate danger, but she wasn’t out of the woods. She’d need another major surgery in three days to have any hope of a real recovery. I gave post-op instructions to the exhausted team and headed out to get some rest. The moment I pushed through the OR doors, I saw him. Director Thompson, waiting for me. In his office, my mind was still racing, planning the next procedure. I was about to ask for his full support for the upcoming surgery when he cut me off. “Dr. Ross, this incident with Ms. Jensen was a serious breach. Thanks to you, the hospital’s reputation remains intact.” I nodded, ready to give my recommendation for Chloe’s permanent dismissal. But his next words felt like a slap in the face. “While she is technically at fault, the board has made a decision. We cannot let the public know that an intern scared a patient half to death while dressed as a ghost.” He folded his hands on his desk, his expression unreadable. “Therefore… we need you to step up. We need you to take responsibility for the incident. We’ll tell everyone you were the one in the costume.” I stared at him, my jaw slack. “What did you just say?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Audrey, you’re a veteran here. You know Dr. Cole is our candidate for the National Outstanding Youth Physician award. The patient was his, and the intern who caused this is his protégée. Are you really going to stand by and watch his entire future go up in flames?” Ethan was the director’s golden boy, the one he’d mentored and promoted for years. And now, instead of punishing the guilty, he wanted me to be the scapegoat. It suddenly made perfect sense how Chloe felt so comfortable pulling a stunt like that. The whole system was rotten from the top down. Rage, cold and sharp, flooded my veins. I stood up and pointed a trembling finger at him. “You want me to take the fall? In your dreams.” My voice was low and shaking. “I see exactly what this is. You’re a den of vipers. After I perform the final surgery in three days, you can consider this my resignation.” I turned to leave, but the door flew open and Ethan rushed in, grabbing my arm. “Audrey, please. I’m begging you. Just this once, help me and Chloe.” His voice was a desperate whisper. “She’s only twenty-three, Audrey! Her life is just starting! That old woman is… she’s old! Even if you save her, how much time does she have left?” He squeezed my arm tighter. “This would destroy Chloe. What if the family sues? She could go to jail!” I looked down at his hand on my sleeve, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. If the family gets involved, jail will be the least of her worries. They’ll be sweeping up her ashes. His plea was pathetic. In my last life, I was only thirty when he murdered me on that operating table. He didn’t seem to care that I was “still young” then. And since when did being sixty-something mean your life was forfeit? My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Have you two thought this through? I am the only surgeon in this hospital who can save that patient. And you want me to confess to a crime I didn’t commit? What if I just… walk away right now?” The director tried to switch tactics, his voice becoming smooth, paternal. “Audrey, come on. You and Ethan have been together for so long. As his fiancée, you should be willing to make sacrifices. This is no time to be selfish.” Sacrifice? I’d sacrificed my life for him. The memory was a hot brand on my soul. I ripped my arm from Ethan’s grasp. “We’re done,” I said, the words tasting like freedom. “The engagement is off.” I looked from his stunned face to the director’s. “From now on, you go your way, and I’ll go mine.” I stormed out of his office, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled in its frame. I didn’t look back. 3 For the next few days, I stayed home, resting, mentally preparing for the second, more complex surgery. But before the scheduled day, I got a call. The patient was destabilizing. I didn’t hesitate this time, throwing on my clothes and heading for the door. The moment I stepped outside, a beer bottle flew through the air, shattering against my temple. A sharp, searing pain, and then the warm stickiness of blood. My front lawn was swarming with people. A mob. “There she is! The monster doctor! Look at her, pretending like she didn’t almost kill someone!” “Audrey Ross, right? They call you a top surgeon? You’re a sick bitch!” “Get her! Show her what happens to doctors who torture their patients!” I realized my name was everywhere. A video had gone viral, the headline blaring: ‘Heartless Surgeon Dresses as Ghost, Terrifies Elderly Patient Near Death for Halloween Prank.’ It was the grainy security footage from that night. The figure in the costume was clearly Chloe, but the narrative—fueled by an anonymous source and an official-sounding statement from Director Thompson himself—had already convicted me in the court of public opinion. Ethan stepped out from the crowd, his face a mask of righteous fury. He pointed at me. “Audrey, I am so disappointed in you! Chloe is just an intern! How could you try to frame her like this?” I wiped the blood from my brow, the metallic tang of it on my fingers. I gave him a cold smile. “You really think leaking some blurry footage to the press is going to change the facts?” “Still denying it!” he roared for the crowd. He strode forward and slapped me, hard, across the face. Then he leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “You’re going to the hospital right now and you’re going to issue a public apology. You will take the blame for Chloe. If you don’t, when that patient’s family comes for you, I won’t lift a finger to help.” Chloe emerged from behind him, clinging to his arm, her eyes wide with fake innocence. “Dr. Ross… how could you? You were the one who said we should do something fun for Halloween, to liven things up. You dressed up and scared her… how can you blame me for your idea?” Listening to their perfectly rehearsed lies, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was insane. “Are you two serious right now? You created this catastrophe, and I’m the only person on the planet who can fix it. And this is how you treat me? Aren’t you worried about how this might… affect the patient’s outcome?” Ethan leaned in again, his lips brushing my ear, his voice a chilling sneer. “Let it be affected. She’s just some old crone. Her life isn’t as important as Chloe’s future. Or mine.” It finally dawned on me. They still had no idea. They had no idea who this “old crone” was. Her son was a man who could erase every single one of us from this city. Ethan turned back to the crowd, his voice booming. “You all see this? This black-hearted doctor still has the gall to say she’s going to operate!” he shouted. “The patient was recovering perfectly fine until she pulled her sick prank! She should be in jail, not an operating room!” His words riled the crowd into a fresh frenzy. “What kind of person does that? She shouldn’t be allowed near patients!” “My own mother has the same heart condition. I’d never let someone like her operate!” “Forget operating, just beat her!” The mob surged forward, a wave of hands and fists ready to tear me apart. I curled into myself, instinctively shielding my hands, my most precious tools. I screamed at Ethan over the roar of the crowd. “Are you insane? If they hurt me, that patient dies! For real this time!” I was desperate, trying to make him see reason. “I’m telling you, her son is Nico Costello! When she dies, he’ll come for all of us!” But my warning didn’t register as a threat to him. It was an incitement. His eyes widened with a crazed, opportunistic light. He grabbed a loose brick from the edge of my garden path. “Did you all hear that?” he yelled, his face contorted with rage. “She’s involved with the mob! She’s threatening us! This woman is a menace to the medical community! We’ll be doing a public service by getting rid of her!” He shoved his way through the crowd, the brick held high. He brought it down, hard, on the back of my left hand. A scream tore from my throat, raw and agonizing. Pain, white-hot and absolute, exploded from my knuckles. Cold sweat and tears streamed down my face. Ethan smiled, a look of pure, triumphant satisfaction. “Hmph. You think you’re so high and mighty because of what these hands can do,” he sneered. “Always holding it over Chloe’s head.” He grabbed my right wrist. “Today, I’m going to cripple you. I’m going to make sure you never hold a scalpel again. You’ll be finished in the medical world, and you will never be a threat to Chloe again!” I struggled, kicking, trying to pull my right hand free, but the crush of bodies held me fast. He was going to break my other hand. The brick was rising again. Just as it was about to fall, the screech of tires cut through the chaos. A sleek, black sedan slammed to a halt at the curb. A man with a jagged scar down his cheek jumped out of the driver’s side. He looked like a storm cloud in human form, but his eyes were wide with panic. “Isn’t Dr. Ross at the hospital yet?” he yelled, his voice a gravelly roar. “My mother… she’s crashing!” I held up my left hand. It was already a swollen, mangled ruin. “I’m right here…” I gasped, the world starting to spin. “But I don’t think… I can save your mother now.”

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The finale of the horror simulation concluded, and I was one Shade short. As the Warden of this place, I sealed the exits instantly, trapping all five hundred players inside the final chamber. “A Shade has escaped its programming,” my voice boomed through the hall, metallic and devoid of warmth. “If it breaks containment, the entire system initiates a Purge Protocol. Myself, and the other two thousand Shades bound to this simulation, will be deleted.” I let the silence hang for a beat, heavy and suffocating. “I’m giving you five minutes to find it. Or I’m cutting the oxygen.” A wave of pleas and denials crashed against my feet. Five hundred players, dropping to their knees. “They don’t have a label on their forehead! How are we supposed to know?” one of them yelled, his voice cracking with panic. “Maybe you just miscounted!” “Let us go! We’re innocent!” another cried. Innocent? A bitter, silent laugh echoed in the cavern of my chest. I twisted the master valve, and the hiss of the life support system died. “It seems your loyalty is worth more than your lives.” I knew. The rogue Shade was hiding among them, wearing a player’s face. And every single one of them was in on it. 1 The moment the air stopped circulating, the chamber descended into madness. “We told you, we don’t know anything! Are you trying to kill us all?” “Don’t forget the rules, Warden! Every game has a minimum survival quota. If we all die, you go down with us!” They were right, of course. If the survival rate dropped below the mandated threshold, the final deletion would be me, the master program. The big boss. But compared to the agony of a System Purge—a slow, digital unraveling—a quick death was a mercy. Seconds bled into minutes. Players were already clutching their chests, their faces turning pale. Lank, the long-tongued Shade who served as my lieutenant, materialized beside me. His whisper was a dry rasp. “Warden… they look like they’re telling the truth. Are you certain you didn’t make a mistake?” Impossible. I had presided over this Purgatory from its inception, for centuries of simulated time. I knew the count of my charges better than I knew my own code. “Please… my baby,” a woman sobbed, crawling forward. “He’s just a child.” This one had been duped into the game by her husband, desperate for the ten-million-dollar prize. I signaled to Lank. He snatched the infant from her arms, and the baby’s terrified wail pierced the rising panic. “You monster! Give me back my son!” She scrambled on the floor, her eyes darting wildly, scanning the faces around her. “You! Are you the one? Are you the Shade?” “What the hell? I’m a player, you psycho!” She accused one after another, receiving the same denials until her spirit finally shattered. She collapsed, her sobs raw and animalistic. Her crying was grating on my last nerve. I strode forward and my palm cracked across her cheek, silencing her. “One more sound, and I snap his neck right now.” Her eyes, wide with terror, locked onto the child in my grasp. She choked back her tears, her body trembling with the effort. “Picking on a baby doesn’t make you tough!” someone shouted from the crowd. “This is your failure of management, Warden! Why are you blaming us?” The accusations flew from every corner, a chorus of condemnation. But not one of them offered a single clue. I lifted the screaming infant into the air. “You have five minutes. If you don’t give me the Shade, this child dies. After that, I will kill one player every sixty seconds.” I knew. Every last player in this room was protecting the missing Shade. Including his mother. “Warden,” Gallows, my headless enforcer, muttered from behind me. “The hall’s reserve oxygen will only last another thirty minutes. If they still refuse to talk…” “Then we all die together,” I said, my gaze fixed on the child in my hands. His tiny body had gone limp, sleeping in my grip. For a fleeting moment, my fingers twitched with the urge to simply squeeze. Centuries. I had played this part for centuries, and I was so incredibly tired. An ending like this didn’t seem like a threat. It felt like a release. “Still no one wants to be honest?” Lank and Gallows kept their heads bowed, fearing my temper. I walked back to the mother, my voice dropping to a somber, final tone. “I regret to inform you that you failed to provide the required information in the allotted time. Therefore, this child’s life is forfeit.” Before the words had fully settled, I acted. I didn’t kill the child. Not yet. But the message was sent, painted in crimson on the faces of the nearest players. He was left with the barest thread of life. “You… you’ll burn in hell for this!” the mother shrieked. Funny. For me, that was the equivalent of wishing me a long life. “Well? Ready to give up the Shade now?” She lifted her head, her eyes burning with a hatred so pure it was almost beautiful. “Spit. You demon. You will never find him.” Ah. So that’s how it would be. “He’s yours,” I said, dropping the bleeding child into Lank’s waiting arms. His jaw went slack, a line of saliva tracing a path down his chin. He stared at the infant like it was a feast. The game has rules. One of the most important is this: A player consumed by a Shade is erased from existence. No afterlife, no respawn. Just… nothing. The mother knew the rule. The defiance in her eyes dissolved into sheer, primal terror. “I’ll talk,” she sobbed, breaking completely. “I’ll talk.” 2 Lank licked his lips, reluctantly placing the child back into my arms. “Speak,” I commanded. The mother raised her head, her gaze sweeping across the crowd before quickly falling again. “The Shade is…” She never finished. A sickening thud echoed through the hall, and she crumpled to the floor, a pool of blood spreading from beneath her. “Whoops. Hand slipped,” a man with a jagged scar across his face said with a grin, holding a small, wicked-looking blade. He stood there, casual, as if he’d just dropped a pen. The truth, snatched from my grasp. A cold fury I hadn’t felt in decades ignited within me. “You’re looking for death!” My hand shot out, closing around his throat. I lifted him off the ground, his face darkening to a bruised purple. “If… I… die…” he choked out, “…you’ll never… find him.” A threat? I loosened my grip, letting him crash to the floor, gasping and coughing. “Talk,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “While I still have some.” He looked up, a manic glint in his eyes. “What if I told you he’s already dead?” Trying to deceive me? Fool. My boot connected with his ribs, sending him flying across the floor. He staggered to his feet, wiping a smear of blood from his lips. “Believe it or not,” he rasped, “it’s the truth. He’s dead.” The rogue Shade was among the players. And every single one of them was a collaborator. “Take him,” I ordered my lieutenants. “Give him a private tour of the Abyss.” A collective gasp went through the remaining players. The Abyss was our deepest, most tormenting level. In the entire history of the Purgatory, its survival rate was a perfect zero. It was a death sentence, just a very, very slow one. “The Shade is dead! Why are you still doing this to us?” a man who had been cowering in a corner finally found his voice. I had Gallows drag him before me. “You feel so strongly for him. Perhaps you’d like to take his place?” The man went silent immediately, shrinking back into the crowd. Seeing the scar-faced man was still defiant, Lank’s tongue shot out, ready to wrap around him and drag him away. At the last second, the man frantically pulled something from his pocket and held it up. “I bet you recognize this!” Lank retrieved the object and presented it to me. “Warden… it’s a Shade’s sigil.” He was right. It was one of the tokens I issued to my Shades. They served two purposes: to differentiate them from the player simulations and to act as a distress beacon if they were in mortal danger. A Shade would only abandon their sigil at the moment of their true death. But a simple trick like this wasn’t going to fool me. “Now you have proof the Shade is dead! You can let us go now, right?” “Please, I can’t breathe…” I nodded to Gallows. He reconnected the main oxygen line. The wilted players instantly revived, gulping down the clean air. “Warden, maybe we should let them go,” Gallows suggested quietly. “Every second they remain, they drain more of the system’s resources.” His words made sense. I glanced at the sigil in my hand and offered a cold smile. “Let them go.” 3 The players scrambled toward the massive gate, the one that represented freedom and their prize money. “Ten million dollars, here I come! I’m gonna find ten girls and…” “The Purgatory ain’t so tough! I’m coming back tomorrow…” Their faces were masks of greed and relief. But the moment the gate began to slide open, their smiles vanished. With a flick of my wrist, I disintegrated the first ten players who reached the threshold. The gate slammed shut again. The scar-faced man, seeing his hope of escape evaporate, finally snapped. “You said you’d let us go! What is this?” The others erupted. “What the hell? Why did they get to leave and we’re still stuck here?” “The ten players I just ‘released’ have satisfied the game’s minimum survival quota,” I explained calmly. “Now, I can kill every last one of you, and it wouldn’t even be a violation of my programming.” Panic, pure and undiluted, washed over their faces. I let it sink in before continuing. “However. The first player to hand over the Shade gets to live.” The fear on their faces was instantly wiped away, replaced by suspicion. I sweetened the deal. “Find me the traitor who helped him, and I’ll give you a ten-million-dollar bonus.” That did it. The scar-faced man immediately balked. “What traitor? There’s no traitor! You’re just making things up to mess with us!” Oh, there was a traitor. A traitor who had planned this from the very beginning. Without his instigation, no Shade would ever dare dream of escaping. Not even in death. “So, the goal is to find the escaped Shade and the traitor,” I clarified. The scar-faced man shot back, “He’s dead! What’s the point of looking for him?” A thin smile stretched my lips. “I want to see a body.” 4 At my command, the players scattered, a frantic search beginning. Only the scar-faced man remained, squatting in a corner, unmoving. “Why aren’t you looking?” I asked, approaching him. “Not tempted by that extra ten million?” He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to let any of us leave anyway.” Was he implying I was untrustworthy? Just then, a few players ran up to me, out of breath. “Forget it. We don’t want the bonus. Just let us go.” “Useless,” I snarled. I grabbed their necks, and in an instant, the two of them dissolved into a fine red mist. The scar-faced man watched, his eyes wide, not daring to blink. “That traitor is a real piece of work,” I mused aloud, looking at him. “Getting so many innocent people killed.” He swallowed hard and gave a stiff, jerky nod. A short while later, a tall player came running over, his face alight with excitement. “Warden! I found the Shade! You can let us go now, right?” The scar-faced man’s head snapped up, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “Where?” I asked. The tall player pointed triumphantly at a set of ancient, crumbling remains in a dark alcove. “Right there. That’s him.” I almost laughed. Did this idiot truly think I was a fool? I arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Lying to me has consequences.” A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but he firmed his jaw and nodded. “I’m sure. That’s him.” “Excellent.” I placed my hand on his head. The six-foot man collapsed into a neat pile of splintered bone. The other players who had come to report their findings saw this and their legs gave out from under them. “You… you go first. I’m not…” I signaled to Lank and Gallows, who herded the rest of the search parties before me. “Report. What have you found?” Their voices were so faint with terror they were barely audible. “N-nothing… w-we searched… everywhere… not a trace.” Good. At least these were more honest than the last one. I let my fangs descend, two feet of polished ivory, and gave them a smile that wasn’t a smile. “The traitor,” I said slowly, “is standing among you right now.” That single sentence shattered their fragile unity. “It’s you! You’re the traitor, aren’t you? You know where the Shade is!” “Bullshit! Warden, he’s the one!” The chamber devolved into a brawl, players turning on each other. But I noticed something interesting. No one dared to confront the scar-faced man. “Why are they afraid to question you?” I asked him quietly. He looked completely unfazed. “I’m a dead man walking. They’re not wasting their time on me.” I just smiled. After the fighting died down, the players were bruised and bloodied, their paranoia now cemented. They were more convinced than ever that the traitor was one of their own. “Warden, you know who it is, don’t you?” one of them pleaded. “Please, stop torturing us.” “Fine,” I said. My eyes landed on the scar-faced man. “Let me see that sigil again.” He hesitated for a moment before handing it over. I tossed the small, cold token in my hand, a true laugh finally bubbling up. The traitor had just exposed himself. You’re mine now, I thought. My rogue Shade.

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I bought a second-hand camera on eBay. When it arrived, I found a ghost inside: my seventeen-year-old self. It was always my profile or the back of my head. The unmistakable angle of a secret crush. I was baffled. Then I glanced at my phone and saw Twitter was on fire. #Actor Leo Wilder’s Former Assistant Sells His Personal Belongings for Exorbitant Prices# A moment later, a message from the eBay seller popped up. 【The camera is mine.】 【I didn’t want to sell it.】 【Can I please have it back?】 1 I stared at the small screen of the camera in my hand, a knot of surprise and confusion tightening in my stomach. I’d bought the vintage CCD camera a couple of days ago. It was an ancient model, but they took incredible photos, and a recent trend had made them popular again. I’d caved and bought one. But when it arrived, I found the unexpected ghost in the machine: me, in high school. The background was the school’s athletic field. Judging by the date stamp, it was the big track and field meet our sophomore year. There I was, seventeen-year-old Joanna, in my gym uniform and a high ponytail, sitting makeup-free in the bleachers. The photographer must have been some distance away, because the image was slightly blurred. Seeing all those familiar faces of old classmates, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. But then I noticed something strange. As I scrolled through the next dozen photos, I was in every single one. My colleague and lunch buddy, Talia, just back from her coffee run, leaned over my desk. “Hey, isn’t that you? Who took this? It’s so blurry.” “No idea,” I said, shaking my head. I figured the camera’s original owner must have been some anonymous classmate. Talia suddenly grinned. “Ooh, look at this. Always your profile or the back of your head. This is total secret admirer footage,” she declared. “Whoever took these was definitely crushing on you.” I laughed it off. “It has to be a coincidence.” After all, there were plenty of other people in the shots. Maybe the photographer was just sitting near me and I ended up in the frame by accident. The memory card came with the camera; the seller probably forgot to check it before shipping. Worried the photos might be important to them, I’d messaged the seller on the app as soon as I found them. But by the time my lunch break rolled around, there was still no reply. Waiting for the elevator, Talia was scrolling through Twitter, as usual. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, you have to see what’s trending.” She shoved her phone in my face. The number one trending topic had a fiery little “EXPLODING” icon next to it. #Actor Leo Wilder’s Former Assistant Sells His Personal Belongings# As we stepped into the elevator, Talia kept dishing the gossip. “Assistants these days have some nerve. You can’t just sell a celebrity’s private stuff.” “Leo Wilder has the worst luck,” she continued. “I wonder if there was anything valuable in the stuff they sold. It’s probably impossible to get any of it back now.” I opened my own Twitter app and clicked on the trending topic. Leo Wilder’s studio had released a statement just a minute ago, confirming they’d already filed a police report and were pursuing legal action. Leo had just won a major, prestigious award last month; his career was at an all-time high. He wasn’t a Juilliard grad, just a raw, natural talent who had spent years building a reputation for having zero scandals. The only thing his rivals could ever dig up was his humble background. For a story like this to break now was, unsurprisingly, causing a stir. Celebrities are usually obsessed with their public image, so taking it straight to the police was a rare move. He must have lost something incredibly valuable. “By the way,” Talia added, “that new reality show our network is about to start filming… I saw Leo Wilder on the list of potential guests. He’s probably coming in to sign the contract in the next couple of days.” The elevator chimed, the display showing ‘1’. Then Talia seemed to remember something. “Wait, didn’t you and Leo Wilder go to the same high school? Did you two know each other back then?” An image flashed in my mind—a rainy afternoon in high school. The stuffy, noisy diner by the school gate. A boy sitting across the table from me, his head bowed quietly as he ate a bowl of ramen. I shook my head. “We weren’t really close.” Ding. The elevator doors slid open. And standing right in front of me, as if summoned by the words I’d just spoken, was the man himself. 2 Our eyes met. Before I could process it, he had already shifted his gaze away. Even with the mask covering half his face, I recognized Leo Wilder instantly. His manager, Marcus, stood beside him. Judging by the grim expressions on both their faces, the Twitter scandal was hitting them hard. Marcus started to say something, but stopped when he noticed us in the elevator, swallowing his words. They stepped aside to let us pass. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator and the doors were closing that Talia finally found her breath. “Holy crap, was that actually Leo Wilder?” So, the contract signing was today. I didn’t say anything, just pressed my lips together. A strange, inexplicable awkwardness washed over me. In that brief moment our eyes met, I couldn’t tell if he had recognized me. And I had no idea if he’d overheard what I’d just said. When we stepped out of the building, we found a light rain had started falling. Neither of us had an umbrella. Lunch break was precious time for corporate drones like us. Defeated, Talia gave up on her quest for food. “Forget it, I’m just gonna go make instant noodles upstairs,” she sighed. “Joanna, what about you?” I was about to say I’d go back with her when a man’s voice called out from behind us. “Excuse me, ladies. A gentleman asked me to bring you these.” It was the man from the front desk. He was smiling, holding two umbrellas. They were high-quality, branded with our company’s logo—the kind we kept for important guests. Talia accepted one, looking completely bewildered, then her expression turned to delight. “Well, I have no idea who sent this, but what a gentleman.” I stared at the umbrella in my hand, lost in thought for a moment. When I got back to my desk after lunch, my boss waved me over. The office was mostly empty during the break. “Joanna, perfect. Can you come with me for a second?” Confused, I followed her. “That new variety show we’re launching—I remember you signed up to work on it, right?” she asked. “The talent’s team is here today to sign the contracts. I’d like you to go be the point person for them.” Just then, the door to the conference room swung open. “I did what you asked. Now don’t you go backing out of your promise to drop the lawsuit…” Marcus’s voice trailed off when he saw it was me again. Leo stood with his back to me, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the city below. I only heard him give a soft, low “Mm.” “Hello, Mr. Wilder.” I stepped forward and introduced myself. “I’m the production coordinator assigned to you. My name is Joanna.” The man with his back to me seemed to stiffen for a fraction of a second before he turned to face me. This time, his mask was off, and I could see his face clearly. He hadn’t changed much since high school. He just looked at me for two long seconds, then turned his head away again. “I know.” He said, “I know,” not “I see,” or “Got it.” As if he were saying, I know. Your name is Joanna. As if he were saying, I remember you. You’re Joanna. 3 I suppose Leo and I weren’t complete strangers. Freshman year, I was a hall monitor. On my duty nights, I caught him hopping the fence to skip evening study hall more than once. I found out later he was leaving to work part-time jobs. Everyone in our class knew Leo’s family didn’t have money. After a while, I got used to it. Sometimes, if I was in a good mood, I’d turn a blind eye. Leo never said much. But after he realized I was letting him go, he started bringing me little things when he came back. I was a boarding student and rarely got to leave campus. Sometimes it was a hot pretzel from a street cart, other times a bag of cheap candy from the corner store. The time I remember most clearly was that winter. I got my period and the cramps were awful. I’d run out of the instant heating pads I kept in my dorm, so I asked Leo if he could pick some up for me on his way back from work. When he returned after study hall, he casually shoved a bag into my arms. Back in my room, I opened it. Inside, besides a huge box of heating pads, were three different kinds of chocolate bars. To everyone else, Leo and I barely knew each other. He was a C-student; I was consistently in the top three of our year. No one knew that on every night I was on duty, as he slipped past me in the hallway, he would quietly ask the same question. “Need anything tonight?” “An umbrella. It’s raining. Be careful climbing the fence; don’t slip.” “…” When we were sorted into different classes for sophomore year, Leo and I saw less and less of each other. The freshmen took over hall monitoring duties. I don’t know if Leo ever got caught hopping the fence again. Life got busy. I had new classes, a new circle of friends, and I quickly forgot about it all. Sophomore year, I had a short-lived, ambiguous thing with the most popular guy in my class, Ethan. For Memorial Day, the school gave us a rare two-day weekend. My English teacher asked me to stay late to help grade papers. By the time I left the main building, a sudden downpour had started. My hair was half-soaked by the time I ducked into the little ramen shop across from the school gate. It was June, and the air was already thick and humid. Water had seeped into my shoes, and my socks clung to my feet, sticky and miserable. I ordered a lemonade and sat by the window, waiting out the rain and texting Ethan. When I looked up again, someone was sitting at my table. The shop had filled up quickly because of the storm. It was a four-person table, and a boy had taken the seat diagonally across from me. It was Leo. Our eyes met. I was surprised, but I nodded at him. “Hey. Small world.” Leo nodded back. And then, silence. Feeling the awkwardness, I took a few sips of my lemonade and stared out at the rain, praying it would stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo had ordered a bowl of ramen. He didn’t seem very hungry; he ate slowly, deliberately. So slowly, in fact, that he didn’t make a single sound. The other tables were buzzing with conversation, but ours was unnervingly quiet. Outside, the rain fell harder. Time seemed to stretch on forever. I don’t know how long I sat there, but suddenly the door chimed as it opened. It was Ethan. He’d already gone home, but after seeing my texts about being trapped by the rain, he’d come all the way back to school with an umbrella for me. “Joanna,” he called from the doorway, a gentle smile on his face. “I’ll walk you home.” As I was leaving, I glanced back one last time. The shop was filled with the clamor of voices. Leo was looking down at his bowl, as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. As the door opened again, a gust of wind and rain blew in, cutting through the stuffy air inside. Leo finished the last of his ramen in two quick bites and paid his bill. Then he turned. And walked out, alone, into the rain. 4 After we finished our meeting, I offered to walk the two of them downstairs. On the way, Marcus took a call. He said he had to handle something and told Leo to wait for him in the car. The elevator doors closed again. The small space now held just the two of us. I watched his reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator. Maybe it was the unexpected trip down memory lane, but the little bit of awkwardness I’d felt earlier seemed to melt away. “It’s crazy, right?” I said, my tone light and friendly. “It’s been years since we’ve seen each other.” Leo, who had been quiet this whole time, finally turned to look at me properly. He said flatly, “I thought we weren’t close.” “…” His words froze the smile on my face. Any other attempts at reminiscing died in my throat. I guess he holds a grudge. “Oh, right. We’re not,” I said, my expression turning blank. “No idea who would send an umbrella to a practical stranger, then.” Leo: “…” We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds. He looked away first, unable to meet my eyes, but the tips of his ears were turning a deep shade of red. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Leo, are you serious? You’re the one who started ignoring me out of nowhere.” At the start of senior year, for reasons I never understood, Leo suddenly began to distance himself from me. He quit all his part-time jobs and threw himself into studying for the SATs. We were in different classes by then, and he was naturally a quiet person anyway. Senior year was a blur of college applications and early admission interviews for me, so I didn’t have time to worry about anything else. Our connection just… faded. I heard later that he got into a decent university. While he was there, he took a job as an extra on a film set, got spotted by an agent, and was signed. The year after he graduated, he won his first Best Actor award. From there, his career had been a straight shot to the stars. Hearing me say that, Leo was silent for a few seconds. Then he mumbled, his voice low, “Yeah. I’m sorry.” “Back then… I didn’t know…” His voice trailed off, so quiet I couldn’t catch the rest. But I waved it off magnanimously. “Hey, it’s fine. It was senior year. Everyone was stressed out. I get it.” Leo smiled, a small, genuine smile, and murmured a soft, “Yeah.” Ding. The elevator reached the ground floor. “Anyway, it was really good to see you, old classmate,” I said, smiling as I prepared to say goodbye. “I’ll be your point person for the show, so I’ll be seeing you around. Looking forward to working with you.” “Likewise,” Leo nodded. Just as the doors were about to close, he turned his head. “Joanna. Next time, remember to bring an umbrella.” The doors slid shut. I stood there for a second, stunned. Then, a helpless smile spread across my face. Back in the office, I pulled out my phone, about to search for Leo Wilder in my contacts to see if I still had his number. That’s when I saw a new message on the eBay app, sent one minute ago. 【The camera is mine.】 【I didn’t want to sell it.】 【Can I please have it back?】 5 Just then, Talia came over to ask what I wanted for our afternoon coffee run. Seeing my exasperated expression, she leaned in. “What’s up?” “Nothing. Just dealing with a teenage scammer on eBay.” “Ugh, the worst,” Talia said sympathetically. “What’s the kid saying?” “He says I can name my price, as long as I give him the camera back.” “…” That sounded even more like a scam. Half an hour later, I was sipping my latte and typing with one hand, a smirk on my face. 【Ten thousand dollars. Not a penny less.】 The reply was almost instantaneous. 【Okay.】 【When can you ship it back?】 Seriously? Do kids these days have that much allowance? I decided to play it smart. My thumbs flew across the screen. 【I see we’re in the same city. Why don’t you just pick it up in person?】 The reply came in a split second. 【Perfect.】 Heh. All right, kid. Let’s see who you really are. We agreed to meet the next day, a Saturday. I chose a busy downtown mall as the meeting spot. As it happened, that Saturday was also my high school homeroom teacher’s wedding. Ms. Albright had taught my English class for three years. She was fresh out of college back then and felt more like a peer than a teacher. Our class had always been close, so a lot of former students showed up for her wedding. When I arrived, the table was already buzzing about yesterday’s trending topic. “Do you think Leo Wilder will show up today? Ms. Albright taught him freshman year, right?” “Get real. He’s a huge star now. Why would he bother with a bunch of old classmates?” “He was so quiet back in school. Who would’ve thought he’d end up being the most successful person from our class?” My high school roommate, Chloe, saw me first and looped her arm through mine with a grin. “Our star student has arrived!” I smiled and took my seat, then discreetly sent a text to Leo. During dinner, the conversation inevitably turned to what everyone was doing now. And, just as inevitably, it circled back to Leo Wilder. As our most famous alumnus, people spoke about him with a mix of awe and nostalgia. “Remember how poor his family was? He used to hop the fence every night to go to work.” “I heard his parents divorced when he was really young, and his grandma raised him. Now that he’s made it big, she must be living a good life.” “What? You didn’t know? Leo’s grandmother passed away our senior year.” At that, my head snapped up from my plate. “What did you say?” 6 Just then, my phone buzzed twice. It was a reply from Leo. Me: 【Leo, you’re not coming to Ms. Albright’s wedding?】 Leo: 【Something came up last minute. Can’t make it.】 The classmate who had just spoken looked at me, confused by my sudden outburst. He’d been in the same sophomore class as Leo and knew him better than most. “I’m not wrong. His grandmother died right at the beginning of senior year. He even took a few days off school.” “Joanna, what’s wrong?” Chloe asked, her voice filled with concern as she noticed my expression. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I just shook my head. Just then, Ms. Albright came over to our table to give a toast. “Joanna! It’s been so long.” For three years, I was her favorite student. Even when I got in trouble for that “early romance” sophomore year, she was the only one who defended me. After we clinked glasses, Ms. Albright sighed dramatically. “That Leo Wilder. He promised me he’d be here today. I told all my friends I’d get them autographs and pictures!” “Don’t worry, Ms. Albright,” I said casually. “I can get them for you.” I was thinking about the upcoming show, and how many opportunities I’d have to see him. But Ms. Albright just gave me a knowing, mischievous smile and leaned in to whisper, “So you two are still in touch.” She looked like a shipper who’d just seen her favorite couple become canon. “I knew there was something going on back then. But it was such a critical time for you both, and I was afraid of messing with your grades, so I never said anything. But a teacher always knows.” I sighed. Ms. Albright was the best, but she loved playing matchmaker. “Ms. Albright, Leo and I haven’t seen each other in years, either.” “And back then, we were just regular classmates. We weren’t that close.” She blinked, surprised. “But… he came to me and specifically asked which colleges you were applying to.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385960”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was hiding in the car, clutching a bottle of champagne, ready to surprise my girlfriend on her birthday. She was getting closer. Then I heard two voices, not one. A man’s, low and unfamiliar. A wave of confusion washed over me. I watched, frozen, as he pressed her against the tinted window of my own Ford Explorer, her gasps fogging the glass from the outside. There’s a song lyric about being under the car instead of in it. Right then, I understood. I saw exactly how wild things could get. The worst part? I was about to propose. And to make sure everyone could share the moment, I had set up a private livestream. Right now, both our families, all our friends, were watching this. Online. 1 Chloe’s eyes met mine through the dark tint, but she couldn’t see me. “Let’s get in the car,” she whispered, her voice breathy. A spike of pure panic shot through me. The livestream was running through the dashcam. If they got in, the camera would catch everything, and whatever shred of dignity I had left would be incinerated. My fingers fumbled as I dialed her number. Her phone lit up in her hand. She saw it was me, answered, and immediately rushed out, “Hey, I’m in a meeting, can’t talk.” Before I could say a word, she hung up. I watched her power the phone off completely. A moment later, the passenger door opened. They fell inside, a tangle of limbs and hungry mouths. He pushed her back against the seat, their kisses wet and desperate. It was over. The camera was recording it all. I was curled up in the trunk space of my own SUV, paralyzed. Today was her birthday. The plan was simple, something you see go viral online. She’d walk up to the car, I’d pop the trunk from the inside, and she’d find it filled with roses and gifts. I’d be there on one knee, nestled among the flowers, holding out a diamond ring. It was supposed to be romantic. The camera was angled perfectly to capture the joyous surprise on her face. Our friends and family were all waiting at my apartment. The plan was that as soon as I proposed, I’d walk in the door with my new fiancée, and they’d set off confetti cannons. Now, it was just awkward. Excruciatingly awkward. The livestream was broadcasting the sight of her clothes being peeled away, piece by piece, by this stranger. The man, this affair, chuckled. “Why didn’t you take your boyfriend’s call? Scared he’ll find out?” Chloe kissed him, her voice thick with excitement. “Not at all. If you want to play that game, I can call him right now.” He laughed, a smug, ugly sound, and pushed her down onto the backseat. “You’re a wild one, aren’t you?” “If we’re going to chase a thrill,” she murmured, “we might as well go all the way.” They were fully on the backseats now, oblivious to me in the trunk. I shakily pulled out my own phone, my hands trembling. The screen showed me a mirror of the livestream: the two of them, tangled together in my car, broadcast to a private room with a password. The viewer count was over a hundred. I don’t have that many friends. I knew, with a sickening certainty, that our guests had started sharing the password. The gossip was spreading like a wildfire. Over a hundred people, and not a single comment. The silence was deafening. I could picture them all, sitting in my living room, surrounded by cake and confetti cannons, just staring in horrified, awkward silence at their phones. Then, the worst thing yet. I saw one account spamming the stream with digital gifts. It was Chloe’s mother. My future mother-in-law. She kept sending them, one after another, because each time a gift was sent, a gaudy animation would flash across the screen, momentarily obscuring the awful view. She was old-school with technology; she didn’t know there was a button to hide all the effects. The poor woman was burning through her retirement savings, trying to shield her daughter’s shame, and all for nothing. I couldn’t stop it. The streaming software was running on the car’s infotainment system. I’d have to get into the front seat to shut it off. Just then, the man finally noticed something was off. “Wait a second,” he said, pausing. “Why is the car on?” Chloe laughed it off. “My boyfriend’s car has a remote start for the AC. I turned it on for you before I came down. Didn’t want you to get too hot.” He sounded impressed. “My Porsche doesn’t even have that, and it cost over a hundred grand. This thing is what, thirty?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face close for another deep kiss. “Exactly. And here you are, in his thirty-thousand-dollar Ford, sleeping with his girlfriend.” Her words seemed to ignite him. He started pulling at her shirt again, whispering against her ear, “God, you’re something else. He lets you drive his car while he takes the subway to work every day, and you talk to me like that.” “That’s right,” she purred. “I’m a bad girl. Say it again, it just turns me on more. He’s my simp, but I’m yours.” Then, something truly bizarre happened. As he kissed her collarbone, he started to sing. It was an old, cheesy rock ballad. “I’m forever yours… faithfully.” Chloe giggled, kissing him back. “That’s right, baby. That’s us.” I couldn’t understand it. Who sings during something like this? Maybe it was their own private joke. Or maybe guys who drive Porsches just have that effect on women. But it was profoundly, deeply cringey, especially knowing it was being broadcast live. I knew I had to do something. It was my account. If this went any further, if something truly explicit was shown, I could be the one facing legal trouble. I cleared my throat. A small, pathetic cough. In an instant, the two of them shot upright, their romantic bubble popped. When Chloe saw me, her face went white. “You’re supposed to be at work,” she stammered. “It’s your birthday,” I said, my voice flat. “I took the day off. I wanted to surprise you.” How pathetic. I’d taken time off, planned everything, just for this. The strangest part was, I didn’t feel rage. Not a single spark of anger. A cynical thought had always lived in the back of my mind: until you’re married, you’re just sleeping with someone else’s future wife. Well, the proposal was off. In my eyes, she was already his. I glanced at my phone again. The viewer count was now over a thousand. In a password-protected room. What did that mean? It meant the link had been shared with our entire university alumni group, our respective company Slack channels, and every distant cousin and great-aunt on both sides of the family. A total, multi-platform social collapse. As if on cue, a group of people emerged from the elevator into the parking garage. I recognized them. Chloe’s coworkers. They weren’t heading to their cars. They were clustered together, phones in hand, staring right at us. They had come down for a front-row seat. Chloe, now in a full-blown panic, saw them too. She hissed at me, “Don’t you dare start a fight with me now. My colleagues are right there. Don’t you embarrass me.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. “You’re worried about being embarrassed?” “Look, you caught me. There’s no point in pretending,” she said, her tone shifting from panic to ice. “Let’s just break up. I think I deserve better.” “What did I ever do to you?” I asked, the words feeling hollow. She ignored me, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car. As she pulled out, her voice was cold. “You were good to me, I won’t deny that. But I deserve better. A woman who’s ridden in a Porsche doesn’t go back to a Ford.” The man, Ryan, was awkwardly pulling his clothes back on. It was only then that I noticed something crucial. A wedding ring on his left hand. I pointed at it. “Is that what you call ‘better’?” Chloe’s voice was like steel. “Would you still be saying that if you knew he gives me two thousand dollars a month? In cash?” I sucked in a breath. Online, two grand a month might not sound like a fortune. But in our world, it was huge. My entire monthly take-home pay was barely over four thousand. Even my thirty-grand SUV was financed. Ryan finished dressing and shot me a look. “Look, man, I get it. Name your price. I’ll pay you to keep this quiet and make this a clean break.” I just stared at him. “You want to buy my silence?” “It’s not about buying it,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s about you being required to give it.” Chloe pulled up next to a Porsche parked in a reserved spot near the building’s entrance. A sign on the space read: VP Parking Only. Of course. She turned to me. “I’m warning you, Leo. Don’t even think about getting revenge by telling everyone. He’s a Vice President from corporate. You can’t afford to mess with people like him.” I was stunned. Not because I was scared of some VP. I was stunned because Chloe’s own coworkers were witnesses. With the livestream viewership exploding, there was no way this story wasn’t already scorching its way through their entire company, from the local branch to corporate headquarters. This guy wasn’t just going to lose his promotion; he was going to lose his job. And I’d bet anything his wife was already in that chat room. There’s no way, with that many employees watching, that someone didn’t have her number. Right on cue, Ryan’s phone rang. I saw the screen. The caller ID said: Wife. He instantly declined the call and sent a canned text: In a meeting. Will call you back. The phone immediately rang again. This time, the caller ID read: Chairman. Ryan clearly didn’t dare decline that call. He hesitated, his face a mask of indecision. Chloe said nervously, “It’s the chairman. You should probably answer. It could be important.” Ryan’s eyes darted to me, then back to the phone. Finally, he snarled, “I can’t risk it. I can’t risk what this idiot might say.” He declined the chairman’s call and sent the same text message. They were both in the livestream. His wife and his boss. Ryan powered his phone off. “I’ll call them back later. I’ll just say my battery died.” “Good idea,” Chloe nodded. I sighed. He shouldn’t have turned it off. If he’d left it on, someone might have sent him a text, a warning. But watching Chloe care so much about protecting him, a strange numbness settled over me. She got out of my car and walked to the back. When I popped the trunk, my meticulously arranged surprise of balloons and flowers was revealed. How pathetic. The camera was supposed to capture her ecstatic face. Now, her expression was just cold. Fitting, I suppose. We were past all that now. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice flat. “Take the flowers and the gifts back. Let’s just be clear. Name a price. How much for your silence?” “Is that really what you think of me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “You think I’d blackmail you over this?” “I just need to be sure. He signed a prenup. I can’t be the reason he loses everything.” I glanced at Ryan. His wife was probably already on her way to a lawyer’s office. “I took care of you for years,” I said. “When you’re bending over backward to protect him, have you thought about me at all?” “You caught me cheating,” she snapped, her patience gone. “Do I really need to consider your feelings now? Get real, Leo.” I took a deep breath. She was right. There was no need to consider each other’s feelings anymore. I wasn’t going to take their money. The moment they sent it, it would be extortion, and I’d be the one in jail. I’ve lived a clean life, and I wasn’t about to start breaking the law now. Besides, what good would my silence do? Everyone already knew. “I don’t want your money,” I said. “And I won’t say anything. Let’s just break up. I’ll return the ring.” She looked surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be this cooperative. I thought you’d make a scene. Since we’re breaking up, let’s make it a clean break. Let’s go back to the apartment so I can pack my things. I’ll be out tonight.” I shook my head immediately. “I’ll pack your things for you. Don’t come up.” Honestly, I was trying to protect her. Our friends and family were in that apartment. Some were embarrassed, some were furious. If she walked in there with this guy, it would turn into a brawl. She could get seriously hurt. Despite everything, the thought of what might happen to her in that apartment terrified me. But she didn’t see it that way. “No. I have to go back. The cash he gave me… I hid it. I’m not leaving without it.” “Tell me where it is,” I pleaded. “I’ll get it for you.” Suddenly, Ryan sneered. “You think we’re that stupid?” Chloe looked at him, confused. “What’s wrong with him getting it?” “You think he doesn’t want the money because he has dignity?” Ryan said, his eyes locking onto mine. “He’s just afraid of a bank transfer. A record that we could use to report him for extortion.” Chloe’s eyes widened in dawning realization. “I get it. The money you gave me is all cash. If he takes it, I can’t prove how much was there. If I call the cops, it would just lead back to you.” Ryan nodded, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. “See? You’re smart.” Chloe’s face twisted in fury as she turned back to me. “So that’s why you were being so ‘nice.’ You really are the worst kind of snake. The poorer the man, the more schemes he has. I almost fell for it.” She looked at Ryan with a mixture of gratitude and adoration. “Thank god you were here. The guys who make it to VP really are on another level.” I finally understood. My honesty was my biggest flaw. I was being completely sincere, and they had spun it into some Machiavelian plot in their own minds. And the worst part? Their paranoid theory was so logical, so well-constructed, that even I almost believed it. I was about to tell them about the livestream, but Ryan jabbed a finger in my face. “You listen to me. You’re the one who refused the money. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, do you have any idea what I’ll do?” “What will you do?” I asked. “I’ll lose everything in the divorce,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “But believe me, before that happens, I’ll set aside a hundred grand. I’ll find someone to break your arms and your legs. Twenty grand an arm. You’d be surprised how many people are willing to do that kind of work.” I couldn’t believe it. He was threatening me with violence, admitting to planning a violent crime. And it was all being recorded by the dashcam, witnessed by over a thousand people. This guy wasn’t just going to lose his money in the divorce. He was going to prison. As I stood there, reeling, Chloe, as if she thought I didn’t believe him, added with a cold smile, “You should listen to him. Last month, a janitor at the office saw us. She tried to shake us down for a lot of money. A few days later, she was in a car accident. Do you really think that was a coincidence?” In that moment, the world stopped. Over a thousand people were watching this livestream. And she had just said that. Out loud. If that story was true, Ryan wasn’t just going to jail. He was going away for a very long time. He gave me one last, cold look. “That ‘coincidence’ could happen to you, too.”

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Chapter 1 When I told Ethan I wanted to break up, he was busy adjusting the settings on his camera. “Is this because I posted her on my Instagram?” “Yes.” He squinted, focusing the lens. “So how long is this one?” he asked with a smile. “A week? Two? Don’t make it too long, I might forget who you are.” After eleven years, he couldn’t fathom the idea of me actually leaving. But this time, I was serious. When college decisions came, he accepted his offer from NYU. I enrolled at UCLA, on the opposite side of the continent. From then on, we were worlds apart. In the coffee shop, the shutter clicked. Ethan looked down at the camera’s display, smiling at the picture he’d just taken of me. “I’m saving all of these for our wedding slideshow. I’ve even got the title: ‘My Brattish Girlfriend Who Cried Wolf 100 Times.’” I kept my face perfectly still. I wasn’t joking. “You know,” he mused, “I can never get the same vibe from you. When I shot Sophie the other day, every frame was perfect.” He clearly didn’t believe a word I’d said. “I’m serious, Ethan.” He finally looked up, his smile fading. “You’re breaking up with me because I posted her on my feed? Clara, seriously? It’s just Instagram.” “Yes, it is.” Of course it was. Ethan had used the $2,000 Canon R6 I got him for his birthday to take graduation photos. He posted a nine-photo carousel. Every single shot was a close-up of Sophie. Our friends commented on how “ethereal” and “effortless” she looked. He replied, “Sophie just has a unique aura.” My photos? He didn’t even keep the RAW files. He said I was “too stiff” and “didn’t know my angles.” “Okay, my little jealous girl. How about I take a bunch of you right now and post a new carousel? Happy?” He was talking to me like I was a child. I took a deep breath. “You don’t get it. I don’t care about the post.” “I get it, I get it. Fine. I’ll delete it. Is that what you want?” I just shook my head. I was so tired of him playing dumb. “You’re deleting it? Can I at least get the original files first?” Sophie had materialized at our table, sliding into the booth without asking. She immediately sensed the tension. “What’s wrong? Ethan, did you make Clara mad again?” Ethan just pouted and said nothing. Sophie immediately jumped into action. “Clara, don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault. I begged him to take more pictures of me. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real photoshoot.” She tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. “I don’t need the originals. Just delete the post, okay? It’s not worth fighting with your girlfriend over.” I let out a cold laugh. “Not worth it? Letting my boyfriend take your pictures is a ‘small thing’? Using a matching phone case with my boyfriend is a ‘small thing’? Secretly changing my boyfriend’s lock screen to a picture of yourself is a ‘small thing’?” “Sophie, how is it that you’re at the center of every single ‘small thing’ that makes me miserable?” “If you like him so much, you can have him.” Sophie’s lip trembled, her eyes instantly welling up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling the phone case off her phone. “You’re misunderstanding. It’s not like that. I don’t have a family anymore. Ethan’s family… they’re all I have.” She set the case on the table, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Ethan shot me a look of pure disgust. “Why are you attacking her? If you’re mad, be mad at me. She didn’t do anything.” He snatched the phone case and shoved it back into her hand. I suddenly felt incredibly tired. Chapter 2 I got up and left the coffee shop. I didn’t want to stay and watch him comfort her. I couldn’t believe our eleven-year relationship was ending like this. That night, my friends had planned a murder mystery game night. I didn’t want to make it awkward for everyone, so I forced myself to go. I was a few minutes late, and I could hear them talking inside. “Is Clara bailing? Don’t tell me they’re fighting again.” “It’s because of that Instagram post.” Someone laughed. “She’s seriously mad about that? Ethan, you’re the president of the photo club. You take pictures. That’s… what you do. Clara needs to chill.” “Seriously. Remember last time? She got mad because Ethan got the ‘Lovers’ script with someone else and she sulked all night. Ruined the game.” “If I had a girlfriend, I’d want someone sweet. Someone who doesn’t fly off the handle. You know, like Sophie.” I heard Ethan sigh. “It’s my fault. I spoiled her. She’s just… like that.” “Well, you’d better keep spoiling her,” a guy joked. “No one else will put up with that. You’re stuck with her.” A soft, sweet voice cut in. “Clara is so lucky. If I had someone who doted on me like that, I would never, ever get mad at him.” So, Sophie was here too. The group erupted. “Ooooh! Then you two should be the ‘Lovers’ tonight!” “Really?” Sophie giggled. “Can we pick the script where you have to give me a romantic confession?” Ethan’s voice, full of amusement. “Fine. Just for tonight, I’ll indulge you.” He then added, “But seriously guys, don’t tell Clara. You know how she gets.” I let my hand fall from the doorknob. The laughter inside sounded so sharp. He knew. He knew I hated when he did that. He’d say one thing to me, then do the exact opposite, all because he was so sure I’d never actually leave. He’d miscalculated. Later that night, Sophie posted on her Instagram story. “First time playing a murder mystery! I never knew ‘growing old together’ could be so romantic. Thank you for one perfect night that healed me. I used to think there was nothing left for me in this world, but now… now I have a new dream to chase.” Tucked in the corner of a group photo was a close-up: two hands, fingers interlaced. Ethan wasn’t in the photo, but I’d know that hand anywhere. I swiped up to see the comments. Ethan’s was at the top. “Don’t be so pessimistic. There’s still so much beauty in the world waiting for us.” I turned off my phone and knocked on my dad’s study. “Dad, I want to apply to UCLA.” He stopped typing and closed his laptop, motioning for me to sit. “What’s this? A sudden change of heart? I thought you were set on NYU, to be with Ethan.” “Your firm is moving its headquarters to LA, isn’t it? I want to be closer to you. And I want to study finance. The job market is better on the West Coast.” My dad saw the sadness on my face, but he didn’t push. “I support you, Clara. Prioritizing your own future is never the wrong move. To be honest, I was worried about you being so far away for the first time. This… this is a relief.” Looking at his kind, supportive face, I knew I’d made the right choice. Chapter 3 The day after my final exams, I submitted my application to UCLA. I got an interview notification for the end of the month. I spent the next few weeks prepping for the all-virtual group interview. I’d completely forgotten I’d bought tickets for the Mori Daido exhibit until I got a calendar alert. Ethan had been devastated when they sold out. I’d secretly paid a ridiculous price for two tickets from a reseller, planning to surprise him after finals. Now, it didn’t matter. I took a picture of the tickets and posted it on my story: “One free ticket to the Mori Daido exhibit. First to reply gets it.” A profile pic I didn’t recognize popped up. “Wait, seriously? Those are impossible to get! Can I have it?” I had to think hard. It was Leo, a guy from Ethan’s photo club. He was one of their main models, tall, great build. When I met him at the gallery, I realized he was really tall. And pale, with a sweet smile that showed off a single canine tooth. A few girls walked by, did a double-take, and whispered, clearly debating asking for his number. He was quiet, but when we stood in front of a piece he loved, he came alive, explaining Mori’s shooting style, the context. For the first time, photography actually seemed interesting. “Can I take a picture of you?” he asked suddenly. “This light… the angle… it’s perfect for you.” I was a little embarrassed, but I nodded. “See?” He showed me the screen. “It’s got such a great mood.” “Your profile is amazing. Can we try a full-face shot? Let me find the light.” The moment he picked up the camera, he was a different person—focused, intense. I loved every shot he took. I realized Ethan hadn’t taken a patient, thoughtful picture of me in years. After the exhibit, I asked him to send me the photos. As we were leaving, I asked, “Is it… cool if I post one?” “Of course,” he beamed. “Can I?” “Of course.” I was walking away when he called out, “Hey! Thanks for the ticket. I had a great time. Can I… buy you dinner sometime? To thank you?” I surprised myself by nodding. I was scrolling through the photos, trying to pick one for my post. I remembered the first time I met Ethan. He was holding a camera, too. I was seven. My mom had just passed away. My dad was lost in his own grief. I was hiding in the apartment complex garden, crying, when Ethan peeked out from behind a little toy camera and offered me a gummy bear. “Don’t cry,” he’d said. “You’re prettier when you smile.” He was the one who pulled me out of my shell. When my dad forgot to make dinner, he’d drag me to his house. “Clara, be my exclusive model, okay? When I grow up, I’ll open a whole gallery just for you.” He took my picture every year on my birthday. Until my 17th birthday. That was the day his mom’s best friend died in a car crash, leaving her orphaned daughter, Sophie, in their care. That day, I lost more than just a birthday photo. My phone rang, pulling me from the memory. It was Ethan. He sounded annoyed. “Clara, that’s enough. Leo posted a dozen pictures of you. What are people supposed to think?” “What?” “Don’t play dumb. I’m surprised he agreed to this little stunt. He’s the campus heartthrob, Clara. You really think anyone believes he’s actually into you?” I had no idea what he was talking about. I put him on speaker and opened Instagram. Leo had posted a nine-photo carousel of me. His caption: “In all the light and time, you were the most special part.” “It’s just a few pictures, Ethan. Why do you care?” He was silent for a beat. I had to laugh. So, he did know what it felt like. I heard a door knock on his end. Sophie’s voice. “Ethan? Can you… can you help me with my zipper? I can’t reach.” I smiled. “You’d better go. Don’t want to keep Sophie waiting.” Chapter 4 I hung up and hit ‘post’ on my own carousel. My caption: “Light and time. Made special because you were the one capturing it.” Leo liked it instantly. A DM popped up. “Forgot to ask! Where are you going to college?” I typed back: “Applying to UCLA. Fingers crossed for the interview.” He sent back a random “happy” emoji, then: “Good luck!! You’ll crush it.” My friends were blowing up the comments. “JUST CAME FROM LEO’S PAGE. WHAT IS HAPPENING.” “Clara! This set is gorgeous!” “I am now the captain of this ship.” I had to jump in and explain we were just friends from photo club. The next day, at the graduation party, everyone was still whispering about it. “He’s in the photo club! It’s normal!” I insisted. Ethan was sitting across from me, glaring, sipping a boba tea. Sophie, sitting next to him, leaned over and took a sip from his straw. “Ugh, too cold. Can you hold it for me?” Someone asked about college plans. Sophie chirped, “I’m going to a college right on the west side. I can still meet up with Ethan for dinner on weekends!” Ethan frowned. “Why would you do that? I’m not your boyfriend.” They asked me. I was hesitant to say anything about UCLA before I’d even done the interview. As I was trying to find the words, Ethan answered for me. “Clara’s coming to NYU, of course. She’s only a few points behind me. We’ll probably even take the same classes.” Sophie laughed. “Aww, so she can keep bossing you around.” After dinner, Ethan pulled me aside. “I got the book from the New York Institute of Photography you ordered. Thanks. I love it.” I’d forgotten I’d canceled the order. “Oh. It must have shipped early. Sorry, I meant to cancel that.” His face darkened. “Clara. Can we stop this? Are you thinking business or comp-sci? Just tell me, and I’ll register for the same major.” He reached for my wrist, and I saw it: a red string bracelet. I glanced at Sophie. She was wearing a matching one. Ethan yanked it off. “Sophie made them. It’s stupid. If you don’t like it, I won’t wear it.” He stuffed it in his pocket. Sophie looked furious. Ethan stared at me. “Just… text me what major you pick. Okay?” Suddenly, Sophie clutched his arm, doubling over. “Ethan… my stomach… it hurts. I think it’s… you know…” He sighed, exasperated. “I told you not to drink that boba. It’s right before your period.” Sophie’s eyes filled with tears, and she sagged against him. “I’ll call you tonight. To talk about our classes,” he said, as he helped her into a cab. I smiled and pulled out my phone. “Hey, Dad? You can come get me. My suitcase is by the door. We can go straight to the airport.”

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1 “Director, I accept the offer. I’ll go to Africa.” “Noah, this is a top-secret medical research initiative. Once you sign, you’ll have no contact with anyone stateside for ten years. Your current identity will be erased. That’s an enormous price. Is your fiancée on board with this?” “I’ve already decided to break up with her. I don’t need her approval.” “I’m sorry to hear that. On the bright side, the Program has many outstanding women. You won’t have to worry about your personal life. The final approval process will take seven days. After that, we’ll arrange your transport.” I hung up the phone and stood there in the middle of Sea-Tac Airport. Then, I canceled my flight to Cancun. Chloe and I were supposed to be on that flight. We were going to take our wedding photos. But on the way to the airport, she’d gotten a call, claimed it was a work emergency, and left me standing on the curb. I waited until the final boarding call. She never showed. And just now, I saw the Instagram post. It was from an account named “Ryan,” someone who had added me a few weeks ago after a brief consultation. “First birthday back in the States. Thanks to Chloe for making it the best night of my life.” There were three photos. The first was Chloe and Ryan, smiling, in a hotel room. The second was a selfie of Ryan with a bright red lipstick print on his cheek. The third was Chloe, laughing, her face smeared with birthday cake. I stared at the screen and muttered, “So, Chloe. This was your work emergency.” My relationship with Chloe hadn’t started with love. It started with a debt. My parents died when I was six. In high school, I almost dropped out because I couldn’t afford the fees. But at a local charity event, a Seattle-based philanthropist—a Mr. Chen—sponsored my education. I was a good student. I was valedictorian, got a full-ride scholarship to Harvard for pre-med, and went all the way through my Ph.D. After I started med school, I used my stipend and part-time job money to pay Mr. Chen back every last dollar. But I was still grateful. I flew to Seattle every year to visit him. Six years ago, he told me he had terminal cancer. His daughter, Chloe, had already lost her mother. Now she was about to lose her father. Mr. Chen, seeing me as a good, reliable man, made his dying wish: he wanted me to marry Chloe. I had just graduated. My whole life was planned out—a research fellowship, a chance to work abroad. But he laid on the guilt. “Without my family’s help, Noah, you’d be a high school dropout. You need to show some gratitude.” I couldn’t argue. I did what he asked. I moved to Seattle, took a job as an ER attending at a Level I trauma center, and, as he’d requested, I started pursuing his daughter. We dated for five years. We were planning the wedding. Then, two weeks ago, Ryan walked into my ER. He was Chloe’s old flame, the one that got away. He’d charmed me into giving him my number. After that, his constant, public Instagram posts told me the rest of the story. From that day on, Chloe started coming home late, or not at all. She’d find any excuse to leave when we were together. I knew her heart was with him. If that’s what she wanted, I wouldn’t stand in her way. 2 When I got home, I listed her custom-made, ten-thousand-dollar wedding gown on Poshmark. Since it was over, I had no use for it. I priced it to sell. It was gone in an hour. Chloe walked in just as the UPS driver was picking it up. She frowned. “Where’s that going?” “The fit was off,” I lied. “Sending it back for alterations.” I had made my decision. I wasn’t going to let her use her family’s “generosity” to blackmail me into staying. Until I was on that plane, I wouldn’t give her a hint I was leaving. After the driver left, she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m sorry about today. I just… I really couldn’t get away.” Maybe she felt guilty. She looked up at me and leaned in to kiss me. All I could see was that lipstick print on Ryan’s cheek. I recoiled. “What’s wrong, Noah?” I looked away. “I just got back from the airport. I’m grimy.” She smiled. “I don’t mind.” She tried to kiss me again. I turned my head. She finally got the message. “Are you mad I missed the flight? Look, I promise, as soon as things calm down, we’ll rebook. This wedding is just as important to me as it is to you.” Her performance was almost convincing. It was almost laughable. There is no ‘we,’ Chloe. As I was trying to figure out what to say, her phone rang. I glanced at the screen. The contact was just “R.” I knew it was Ryan. She immediately took the call into the bedroom, pulling the door almost shut behind her. A minute later, she came out, grabbing her purse and keys. “An emergency at the office. I have to go.” I forced a smile. I nodded. She was at the door when I suddenly called her name. She turned, confused. I just smiled. “Be safe.” “I know, I know. I’ll text you.” The door clicked shut. And with it, the door to my own heart locked for good. Sure enough, a new post from Ryan popped up. The location tag was the Four Seasons. The caption: “I’ll never get enough of your perfume.” I suddenly remembered his visit to the ER. “Dr. Han, I just got back to town. I hooked up with a friend, but we didn’t use protection. Do you think she could get pregnant?” At the time, I’d thought it was a bizarre and inappropriate question, but I answered professionally. Now, I understood. The “friend” was Chloe. And Ryan hadn’t come for medical advice. He’d come to show me he’d won. I laughed out loud. He’d really misread the room. I didn’t even want her. 3 With Chloe gone, I started clearing out the condo. This place wasn’t ours. After Mr. Chen died, Chloe inherited everything, but she had no business sense. She got scammed, lost millions, and her properties were seized to cover the debt. I had qualified for a Seattle “high-level talent” housing grant, which gave me this subsidized luxury condo, rent-free. It was the only reason she wasn’t homeless. Since I was leaving, the condo had to be returned. In the back of the closet, I found a box. It was full of the love letters I’d written her. She’d been a tough sell at first, looking down on my small-town background. I’d never dated, so I did what I saw in movies: I wrote her letters. Every day. When her company failed, I gave her every cent I had. The loan sharks came. I stood between her and them. I told them to put her debt in my name. “She owes you? Now I owe you,” I’d shouted at them. “If I can’t pay, you can have my life. But you will not touch her. You will not scare her. Or I’ll kill you.” That night, she’d finally softened. She kissed me. She’d whispered in my ear, “There was someone else in my heart. But I’m giving you his place now.” I hefted the box. It must have weighed twenty pounds. Hundreds of letters. I took the box down to the recycling dumpster. All that “love” was just paper. That evening, I was about to make dinner when Chloe came home, her arms full of groceries. Expensive seafood. “I met a new neighbor today!” she chirped. “He’s an old friend from high school. I invited him over for dinner. He’ll be here any minute.” She put on an apron. “I’m cooking tonight. You can relax.” I watched her walk into the kitchen. I had to laugh. In five years, she had never once cooked for me. She “hated the smell of oil.” I did all the cooking, all the cleaning. I understood now. It wasn’t the smell she hated. It was just me. The meal was a feast. King crab, salmon sashimi, grilled prawns, cioppino… twelve dishes. Eleven of them were seafood. The twelfth was a forgotten side salad. Just as the table was set, the doorbell rang. Chloe ran to open it, pulling a man inside. “Noah, I want you to meet Ryan. He’s my old friend, and our new neighbor!” Ryan smiled, extending a hand. “Noah. A pleasure. Chloe’s told me so much about you.” I smiled back. “I know him. He came to the hospital to see me.” Chloe’s smile froze. “He did? For what?” 4 Seeing her panic, I kept my voice light. “I’m a doctor, Chloe. He came for medical advice. Why are you so nervous?” She let out a breath and playfully punched my arm. “You scared me. Anyway, dinner’s ready!” At the table, Ryan was ecstatic. “Chloe, this is amazing! You even remembered I love seafood. You made all my favorites.” She was beaming. “If you like it, you should come over more often.” Ryan nodded, then looked at me. I was picking at the side salad. “What’s wrong, Noah? Not a fan of Chloe’s cooking?” Chloe immediately put a large prawn on my plate. “You have to try this. It’s a new recipe I learned.” I set my chopsticks down. My voice was quiet. “Chloe. Did you forget? I’m allergic to shellfish.” Her hand trembled. The prawn dropped. “You… you never told me.” “Did I have to?” My voice was hollow. She loved shrimp. So for five years, despite my allergy, I’d cooked it for her. Every time, my hands would break out in hives. The itching was so bad I couldn’t sleep. I’d have to sit up all night, holding ice packs. And every time she saw the rash, she’d just looked disgusted and told me to sleep on the couch so I wouldn’t “infect” her. Five years. Dozens of reactions. She never once noticed. She looked guilty. “Well… since you’re allergic, I’ll… I’ll go make you something else.” I pushed my chair back. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry. I ate at the airport.” Maybe out of guilt, Chloe insisted on cleaning the kitchen. The moment she was gone, Ryan dropped his act. He leaned back, smiling. “You saw my posts, I assume. You’re taking it well.” I sipped my tea. “I’m just surprised you have a taste for… leftovers.” His smile vanished. He leaned in. “Chloe and I were high school sweethearts. She was mine long before you. She could never love a peasant like you. I’m back. If you have any dignity, you’ll leave.” I wasn’t about to tell him I was already leaving. “If you want me gone, have Chloe say it to my face.” His face darkened. He looked at my teacup. He picked it up. And threw the hot tea all over his own chest. The cup shattered. He screamed. Chloe burst out of the kitchen. “What happened?” Ryan pointed at me, his face a mask of pain. “Noah… I just told him we used to date, and he… he threw hot tea on me!” Chloe stormed over and shoved me, hard. “Are you crazy, Noah? That was high school! It’s over! We’re just friends! Why are you so insecure?” My voice was ice. “There’s a Wyze cam on top of the A/C unit. Should we roll the tape?”

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