Leo Song had a girlfriend. I watched them hold hands, watched them fight, watched them break up. It wasn’t until we got to college that I finally decided to tell him how I felt. We were in a private karaoke room, and our friends were all trying to set us up. I stood outside the door for a second, catching my breath, and heard Leo’s easy laugh float through the wood. “Nah, it wouldn’t work,” he said. “We’re just bros.” In that single moment, my years-long crush finally withered and died. Fine. It was better to just be friends, anyway. Except, one day, much later, someone asked me, “You haven’t noticed that Leo Song is trying to ask you out?” I just laughed. “Nah, it wouldn’t work. We’re just bros.” 1 Senior year of high school, Leo Song became my deskmate. The logic was simple: he was a motormouth, and I was quiet. We were supposed to balance each other out. It was AP Lit. Mr. Henderson was droning on about symbolism in The Great Gatsby. Leo’s mouth, however, never stopped moving. “Should I be writing this down?” he whispered. I didn’t answer. “Wait, what page are we on?” “…” Our desks were pushed together, a two-person island. And like every other tall, long-legged guy in our class, Leo had a tendency to invade his neighbor’s territory. His knee kept brushing against mine, a light, almost-not-there touch that sent a jolt up my spine. My back went ramrod straight. “If you cross that line one more time,” I hissed, my teeth clenched, “I’m telling Mr. Henderson.” Cowards like me always use irritation and a holier-than-thou attitude to hide what’s really going on. Things like a secret crush. Things like a crippling lack of self-esteem. Leo just leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he looked at me. He did, however, pull his leg back. “My bad,” he murmured. “I’ll schedule the amputation for tomorrow.” Just then, a piece of chalk flew through the air. Leo ducked it like a pro and slowly sat up straight. Right on cue, the bell shrieked, signaling the end of class. Once our teacher left, I glanced up, just in time to see Leo getting out of his seat. A chorus of whoops and hollers followed him as he walked to the classroom door. His girlfriend was standing there. Her hair was long and straight, her skin was pale like porcelain, and when she saw him, a perfect pair of dimples appeared in her cheeks. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I just saw Leo’s lips curve into a smile as he reached out and ruffled the top of her hair. The noise of the hallway faded into the background. One tall, one short. The perfect couple. I didn’t look away until their backs disappeared down the hall. Then, my eyes dropped numbly to my textbook. A sour, bitter taste flooded my mouth. 2 I’d known Leo since freshman year. Back then, the thought of confessing my feelings never even crossed my mind. Not until the end of the semester, when Leo brought his girlfriend, Isabelle, to a group hangout so everyone could meet her. Our friends cheered, offered their congratulations. I don’t remember much else from that day. All I remember is the sight of their hands, laced together. I always wondered, if I had just been a little braver, would things have turned out differently? I was lost in thought when Leo came back, slinging his jacket over his chair before dropping into his seat. A classmate came over to ask him about a calculus problem. He draped his jacket over his lap and started scribbling out the solution. Then he glanced at my desk. “My girlfriend loves that stuff too. Is it really that good?” I was holding the jasmine milk tea I’d brought to school that morning. My fingers tightened around the plastic cup. “It’s okay, I guess.” Someone else chimed in. “Dude, if you like it, just say you like it. Why you gotta rub it in the faces of us single people?” The guy who said it was Caleb. My dad is his uncle, which makes us cousins. He’s the reason I met Leo in the first place. After a bit more teasing, Caleb asked, “Hey, I’m crashing at my uncle’s place for dinner this weekend. You wanna come, Leo? Your parents are out of town anyway.” Leo glanced at his watch. “Can’t. Gotta help Isabelle study.” “Wow, what a dedicated boyfriend. Her GPA is so borderline, getting into Northwood University is a long shot. You guys planning on doing the long-distance thing?” “We’re trying to end up in the same city.” “Damn, Romeo. You’re really going all in.” “…” The same city. That meant one of them would have to compromise. I listened from the side, blinking slowly. I was still quiet when the final bell rang. Leo looked over at me. “What’s up, Mia?” He always had that polite, considerate way of noticing when a friend was down. Caleb chimed in too. “Yeah, what’s wrong? You can tell your big bro.” I looked up, my eyes meeting Leo’s for just a second. I panicked, looking away. I had to come up with something. “I’m just bummed about my class rank.” Caleb scoffed. “Dude, you’re at the bottom of the AP track. That’s still, like, top 100 in the entire school. Besides, the top science student is your deskmate. What are you worried about?” Leo swung his backpack over his shoulder, a gentle smile on his face. “Yeah, if you ever get stuck, just ask me.” I knew. He saw me as a little sister, too. By the time I surfaced from my thoughts, Leo was already gone. I didn’t need to guess who he was rushing off to see. Through the window, I watched his retreating figure. It’s wrong to spy on someone else’s boyfriend. I told myself that over and over. But my eyes followed him anyway. I figured as long as I never said the words out loud, it would be okay. Thank God I never said them out loud. 3 The countdown to the SATs was ticking away, day by day. Lately, though, Leo had been showing up late a lot. The reason was Isabelle. She’d made him bring her breakfast every morning. Today, for some reason, they’d had a fight about it. He didn’t say a word during our morning vocabulary drills, his mood clearly foul. When Mr. Henderson called him up to the whiteboard to write out the definitions, I was surprised to see he got every single one right. Sometimes I just didn’t get it. How could someone who paid so little attention in class, who had a girlfriend, still get such good grades? During our last study hall, Leo was asleep, his head pillowed on his arms. When the final bell rang, I instinctively turned to look at him. He was still slumped over, but his head was turned, and he was looking right at me. The afternoon light slanted across his face, highlighting his sharp, clean features. My reflection was trapped in his dark eyes. “Mia.” His voice was low and gravelly from sleep. A flush crept up my neck. I tried to sound casual. “What’s up?” “Would you fight with your boyfriend if he couldn’t buy you your favorite snack?” “I don’t have a boyfriend.” It was a stupid question. Leo sighed. “You know, when you do start dating, you should run the guy by me or Caleb first. You’re so naive, you’re gonna get scammed.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Okay, I’ll find two. One for each of you to approve.” Leo laughed. “Make it three. You’ll need one for yourself.” It was a dumb, pointless joke. I stopped talking and just offered a small smile. He didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood either. He leaned back against his chair, a silent, withdrawn energy radiating from him. He was probably thinking about Isabelle again. A familiar sourness rose in my throat. I grabbed my backpack and stood up, but a hand suddenly shot out and tugged on my sleeve. I froze, my gaze falling on the long, well-defined fingers wrapped around the fabric. Leo let go, a hint of awkwardness on his face. “Hey, just… sit tight for a minute. Don’t go anywhere.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but he was already gone. A few minutes later, his girlfriend showed up. It was only when she pointed it out that I realized I’d gotten my period. A small, dark red stain had blossomed on the back of my white school-uniform pants. Leo probably didn’t come back because he didn’t want to embarrass me. When I came out of the bathroom, Isabelle was still waiting. She handed me a sweatshirt. I instinctively tried to refuse. “Oh, no, it’s fine. Thanks, though.” Isabelle’s eyes crinkled into a warm, friendly smile. “It’s Leo’s. It’s big enough to cover everything, and it’ll keep you warm. Don’t be shy, Mia.” A strange wave of guilt washed over me. I couldn’t meet her eyes, terrified she’d see right through me. “Tell him I said thanks.” We walked out of the school together. Isabelle looped her arm through mine, her affectionate gesture making me feel even worse. “Don’t mention it! I heard Leo used to crash at your place for dinner all the time. That practically makes you my sister-in-law!” I didn’t know how to respond. “Do you know why we fought?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “I told him to get me the tomato-basil chips, but he said they were sold out and if he waited twenty minutes for them to restock, he’d be late for school. I mean, love is in the details, right? If he knew they’d sell out, couldn’t he have gone a little earlier? If he wasn’t so handsome, I never would have chased him. He’s so thoughtless and never has time for me.” She was a talker, just like Leo. She went on and on. I couldn’t imagine how chaotic their fights must be. And I never thought I’d be the one comforting her. “College applications are coming up,” I said. “You should both try to be a little more understanding.” Isabelle pouted, then a proud little smile appeared. “But then I remember that the most popular guy at Northwood High is my boyfriend, and I could literally smile in my sleep. Don’t you think I’m lucky?” My mind went blank for a second. “Yeah,” I heard myself say. “A lot of girls like him.” Isabelle started humming a little tune. Suddenly, she leaned in close and unzipped her jacket. On her chest was a tattoo of two butterflies. She had a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m planning on giving him a surprise on graduation night. What do you think? Is it pretty?” In that moment, a thousand images flooded my mind. Leo holding her, kissing her. My thoughts went further, and my heart clenched so tight it felt like it was bleeding. “It’s beautiful.” “Do you want to come out for New Year’s Eve with us? Ah, whatever, we’ll figure it out later.” “Okay.” I was just a robot, saying the right things, smiling the right way. The sky above was a heavy, starless black. 4 New Year’s Eve was on a Sunday. We got out of school at 3:30. When I got to the rooftop barbecue, I could tell something was wrong. Leo and Isabelle were giving each other the silent treatment. It hadn’t been long since their last fight. This time, it was because Isabelle had joined some online group for hiking enthusiasts and wanted to go to a lookout point to watch the New Year’s fireworks. Leo thought it was unsafe with so many strangers. Isabelle loved meeting new people and thought a big crowd would be more fun. They were at a stalemate until Leo finally caved and said he’d go with her. But I guess he didn’t sound enthusiastic enough, because Isabelle exploded and started another fight. At first, Leo was patiently trying to calm her down. But Isabelle wasn’t having it. She pushed away the cup of water he offered her. “I’m not thirsty. Don’t be a hypocrite. Who needs your fake concern?” Leo looked at her, his voice tight. “I said it was unsafe because I was worried about you. And I already said I’d go with you.” Isabelle scoffed. “What century are you living in? What’s so unsafe about it? You don’t really want to go with me, you just want to ruin my fun. You just can’t stand it when I go out and have a good time. All you ever do is tell me to study. I wanted a boyfriend, not a dad. Who are you to control me?” People who know they can get away with anything are often the cruelest. Leo’s brow furrowed. “Can we just stick to the point and not make this personal?” “Why are you getting so annoyed? If you want to break up, just say it! It’s not like I won’t agree.” The air got colder than the winter night. I’d been busy grilling skewers, trying my best not to listen, not to care. But now I couldn’t help but glance at Leo. He was the epitome of teenage pride—impulsive and arrogant, his thoughts straightforward. He didn’t understand the complicated twists and turns of a girl’s mind. To him, this was all just baffling. Seeing things were getting tense, Caleb awkwardly tried to change the subject. It didn’t work. Bringing up a breakup during every fight. Leo seemed used to it. “You’ve thought this through?” he asked, his voice low. “You want to break up?” Isabelle shot up from her seat, her eyes red. She turned and ran. The rooftop fell silent again. Leo didn’t move. He was wearing a black hoodie, the sharp line of his jaw tense. He tilted his head back, staring at the empty sky. After a long moment, he got up and followed her. Caleb let out a breath. “Only Leo has the patience to put up with this,” he muttered to our other friends. “We only get a few hours off a week, and she puts him through this. I feel bad for the guy.” I put down my skewer and walked over to the railing. Down below, under a streetlight, Isabelle’s shoulders were shaking. She petulantly slapped away the hand that was trying to wipe her tears. I saw Leo’s shoulders slump in defeat before he pulled her into his arms. The wind was relentless, blowing straight into my eyes. When I went back to the table, my friends had started a drinking game. There was beer. I chugged a mouthful. Suddenly, fireworks exploded in the night sky, their brilliant colors seeming to bloom just for the bickering couple down below. Caleb scrambled to hand me a napkin. “Why are you crying on New Year’s? Who upset you? I’ll go beat them up for you.” I wiped my eyes and managed a laugh. “I just feel like I’m getting old.” Caleb paused, then gently touched my cheek. “Mia, you’re not old at all. Our lives are just getting started.” I was crying and laughing at the same time, letting the tears stream down my face. He was right. Our lives were just getting started. I couldn’t spend my whole life in love with Leo Song. 5 The New Year’s Eve drama ended with Leo catching a nasty cold. He showed up to school the next day with a voice like a rusty hinge and dark circles under his eyes. I silently pushed my thermos across the desk to him. It was filled with the hot tea and honey my mom always made for me when I was sick. Leo glanced at it, didn’t say anything, but twisted it open and took a sip. “Thanks,” he rasped. “Don’t mention it.” He was listless all day. He didn’t say Isabelle’s name once. I figured trying to soothe someone in the middle of the night while standing in the freezing cold would knock anyone out. Caleb came over during break, his face a mask of gossip. “So? What happened last night? Did you guys make up?” Leo ignored him, burying his face in his arms to catch up on sleep. Caleb nudged me with his elbow. “Mia, do you know?” I shook my head. How would I know? I was just a bystander, not even important enough to be named in their story. That afternoon, Isabelle showed up. She was carrying a thermos, a look of guilt and apology on her face. She placed it on Leo’s desk, her voice soft and sweet. “Leo, I made you some ginger soup. Please drink a little. I’m so sorry about yesterday. It was my fault.” Leo didn’t even lift his head. Isabelle was left standing there awkwardly. She shot a pleading look in my direction. I pretended to be intensely focused on my textbook, not a single word registering in my brain. After a few minutes of tense silence, the bell rang. Isabelle had no choice but to leave the thermos and walk away, looking miserable. Only then did Leo sit up. Without a single glance at the soup, he pushed it to the far corner of his desk. I felt a strange mix of emotions. Part of me hoped they would just break up for good, but another part of me felt sorry for Leo. It must be exhausting, loving someone like that. The pressure of college applications mounted with each passing day, one practice exam after another. Leo and Isabelle’s fights became more frequent. Most of them were about Isabelle feeling like Leo didn’t spend enough time with her, or Leo nagging her to focus more on her studies. With every argument, Leo grew quieter. And I, somehow, became the silent receptacle for his unspoken frustrations. He’d ask me out of the blue, “Do you think people in a relationship have to be stuck to each other 24/7?” Or, “If two people have completely different goals, can they really make it in the long run?” I never knew how to answer. All I could say was, “I’ve never been in a relationship. I wouldn’t know.” He would just laugh, a bitter, self-deprecating sound. “Right. Why am I even asking you?” Then he’d go back to his practice tests. For that whole period, that was the extent of our conversations. We were like two trapped animals, fumbling in the dark, each licking our own wounds. 6 The day our final exams ended, the entire senior class went insane. Tearing up textbooks, screaming at the top of our lungs, hugging anyone in sight. The after-party was at a karaoke bar. Everyone drank too much and sang way off-key. Leo got his fair share of drinks forced on him, too. He sat in a corner, quiet and subdued, not the shining star he usually was. Isabelle was beside him, carefully pouring him water and peeling orange slices for him, as if trying to make up for the past few months of turmoil. Near the end of the night, Isabelle stood up and clapped her hands. “Hey everyone, quiet down! I have a surprise for Leo.” All eyes turned to her. Isabelle took a deep breath, and right there, in front of everyone, she yanked down the zipper of her jacket. Underneath, she was wearing a tight tank top. The butterfly tattoo on her chest looked almost sinister in the dim, colorful lights of the karaoke room. “Leo Song, congratulations on graduating! This is my gift to you!” she announced, a proud, innocent smile on her face, as if she were showing off a priceless work of art. The room was silent for three seconds. Then it erupted in a wave of laughter and catcalls. I saw Leo’s face. In an instant, it went completely white. He shot up, grabbed a jacket from a nearby chair, and threw it over Isabelle’s shoulders. His movements were rough, devoid of any tenderness. “Are you insane?!” he hissed, his voice a low growl, thick with suppressed rage. The smile froze on Isabelle’s face. “I… I just wanted to surprise you…” “This is your idea of a surprise? In front of all these people?” Leo’s eyes were as cold as ice. “Isabelle, we’re done.” Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. Isabelle stood frozen, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Caleb rushed over to comfort her. I sat where I was, a cold can of beer still clutched in my hand. The butterfly’s wings had failed to carry it into Leo Song’s heart. The long, drawn-out war of attrition had finally ended, in a way I could never have imagined. I didn’t feel happy. I just felt that youth was like a spectacular firework show—dazzling for a moment, then leaving behind nothing but smoke and debris.

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To surprise my long-distance boyfriend, I flew two thousand miles to his college. I got there just in time to see him walking back onto campus. I was about to call his name, but he walked right past me. Didn’t even glance. Excuse me? A second later, my phone buzzed. Liam: Babe, this is gonna sound crazy, but I just saw someone who looked exactly like you. Liam: Don’t worry, I only have eyes for you. Didn’t even look twice. I actually laughed out loud. I snapped a quick selfie right in front of the university’s main gate and sent it. Me: You sure you don’t want to look again? 1 About sixty seconds later, the same guy who’d been too cool to give me a second glance reappeared, completely out of breath. He’d sprinted back. His eyes—these soft, sloping puppy-dog eyes—were practically glowing. He was even better looking than in our video calls. Sharp features, but a sweet expression, and just radiating that restless college-kid energy. I was also getting the full effect of his 6’1″ frame. “Chloe?” His voice was breathless, full of genuine shock. “I thought you said you couldn’t come ’til next month?” Liam was clearly not prepared, but his voice was vibrating with excitement. It sounded deeper and better in person than it ever did through my earbuds. This was the first time we’d ever met in person. In fact, we’d only seen each other’s faces for the first time last week. I’d been in a three-year, long-distance relationship with the ridiculously handsome college kid currently hyperventilating in front of me. It started my senior year of college. I had too much free time, got obsessed with an MMO, and was absolutely terrible at it. I met a guy online who offered to carry me through raids. He carried me for a while, and then when I got busy with my internship, he’d log into my account every day to do my dailies. It was a completely platonic, revolutionary friendship. Until one day, while I had him on Discord, my mom waltzed into my room, smiling. “Sweetheart, trust me on this, I found a few great guys. Sons of my friends. All handsome. Just meet them, for me?” I couldn’t really say no; they were all family friends. I agreed to at least have coffee. As soon as my mom left, a voice crackled in my headset. “Chloe… um… I’m… I’m pretty good-looking, too, you know.” …That was three years ago. “I have a work trip in the area soon, so I came a few days early to see you,” I said, pausing. “Are you… happy to see me?” Liam’s eyes were still locked on my face. “Happy? Of course! Have you ever seen the campus? I can give you a tour.” “Actually, I…” I’d been here before, for work. Before I could finish, someone walking by bumped hard into my shoulder. I stumbled forward, falling straight into him. Into Liam’s chest. I felt him suck in a breath, but his hands just gently steadied my shoulders. As soon as I was balanced, he stepped back. “We, uh, we can walk.” Weird. This is the guy who called me ‘babe’ and ‘my girl’ five times a day. But in person, there was this… gap. Not a bad gap. Just… new. We had shared so much over three years, from gaming to our private lives. We’d sent each other more than a dozen gifts, all through the mail. Now, he was walking right next to me, and I could feel him stealing glances at my face. It was easier for him, being taller. I finally looked up, catching him mid-stare. I smiled. “So? Do I look like my videos?” The guy next to me turned bright red, right to the tips of his ears. After a long pause, I heard him mutter, “You look… so much better than your videos.” 2 Obviously, I wasn’t going to fly across the country to meet a guy I’d been dating for three years without knowing what he looked like. Liam was younger than me. When he first confessed his feelings, I figured it was just a teenage crush. He’d just graduated high school; it was hormones. The main reason I said yes? I loved his voice. I never thought it would last. But Liam was… persistent. And just like that, three years flew by. My “little boyfriend” was about to be a senior. “Chloe, I have a basketball game in a bit. An intramural championship. Do you… want to come watch?” Liam asked suddenly. I raised an eyebrow. I’d only ever heard him brag about his skills on the court. “Of course,” I grinned at him. “That’s the whole reason I’m here. To see you.” My boyfriend’s brain seemed to short-circuit again. I tried to remember the few cringey high school games I’d been to. “What do you want to drink? I’ll bring you a Gatorade or something.” “Oh, anything is fine,” he said. “Really?” I crossed my arms. “Because I seem to remember you saying you hate peach-flavored anything, even though you love actual peaches.” Liam blinked, clearly stunned I’d remembered a random comment from a late-night call. He gave me a quick tour, and then his phone buzzed. His teammates, telling him to get to the gym for warm-ups. “Chloe…” He looked like he wanted to say something. I just smiled. “Go. I know where the gym is. I’ll see you there.” He walked away, looking back over his shoulder three times. I wandered around a bit, stopped at a campus market to grab two bottles of water, and then slowly made my way to the gym. There was already a decent crowd. It was a game between two of the big colleges. The two teams had different jerseys, black and purple. I could hear the chatter around me: “When does it start? I’ve been waiting for this game all week!” “I know, right? The business school and the CS department? It’s like they pick their players based on looks.” “Hey, they’re not just pretty! They can actually play.” “That guy from the CS team…” I was too busy eavesdropping to pay attention until someone snatched one of the water bottles right out of my hand. “Sis! No way, is that you?” a way-too-loud voice yelled. I turned. The first thing I saw was a mop of bright red hair, followed by a purple jersey. I watched as my giant, 20-year-old brother, Ryan, chugged half the bottle in three gulps. “Chloe, what are you doing here? Did you see my Instagram story? Did you know I had a game and came to support me?” Ryan slung his sweaty arm over my shoulder. I stared at the water bottle, now half-empty. “You… you’re playing?” “Hell yeah,” my brother said, hugging me tight and pointing across the court. “See that guy? Black jersey, number 9?” I looked. My stomach dropped. It was Liam. “That’s my nemesis,” Ryan growled. “Your… nemesis?” Ryan gritted his teeth. “The girl I like is into him. And that asshole? He keeps telling everyone he has a girlfriend he’s been dating for three years.” “I even asked his friends. They’ve never seen this girl. Not once. Even if she goes to another school, wouldn’t she visit?” “He never posts her, no pictures, nothing,” my dear brother announced, his voice full of conviction. “I’m calling bullshit. He doesn’t have a girlfriend. He’s just saying that to build a ‘loyal guy’ reputation!” “…” Well, about that. 3 “Maybe he really does have a girlfriend,” I offered, trying to sound casual. I glanced back at Ryan. That ridiculous ‘I’m a rebel’ red hair. Ugh. “Impossible,” Ryan said. “I’ve been watching him. There are no girls.” Is that so? My eyes drifted to the young man in the black jersey doing stretches, a small smile playing on my lips. “Sis, see that girl over there? White dress, super pretty?” Ryan whispered, nudging me. “That’s her. Hannah. My dream girl.” I looked. A very pretty, long-haired girl in a white sundress was standing near the bleachers, holding a water bottle and staring—at Liam. Ryan’s voice was full of angst. “What’s so great about him? He’s just a stuck-up prick. I’m just as hot as he is!” I finally understood. My brother—who had coasted through life on his looks, the self-proclaimed “King of Campus”—was having his first-ever romantic failure. The girl he liked, liked someone else. And that someone else didn’t like her back. This had turned Liam into Ryan’s mortal enemy. “You just watch, Chloe,” Ryan said, wrapping his arm around me again. “I’m gonna destroy that guy on the court. Make sure you get your phone out. Record my highlights!” “…” Before I could answer, “Black #9” suddenly looked up from his warm-ups, scanning the crowd. His eyes locked right onto our section. I was standing near the back. I wasn’t sure if he could see me clearly. But his gaze froze. His brow furrowed. He was staring straight at us. And he looked… pissed. “Oh, shit. Is he challenging me?” Ryan finally let go of my shoulder, his competitive spirit ignited. “It’s on.” He jogged onto the court, still holding the water I’d bought for Liam, and paused only to wave at Hannah, begging her to cheer for him. Hannah, clearly, was only watching the black team. The game started. The whistle blew. Both teams were good. The crowd was loud. I saw why people were excited. And the two most aggressive players on the court? Ryan and Liam. Ryan’s always been an athlete. If our family wasn’t rolling in it, he probably would’ve gone pro. “Damn, Liam is playing dirty today,” someone behind me muttered, then yelled, “NICE! Three-pointer!” On the court, Liam was impossible to miss. He was fast, fluid, and just… intense. The score was tight. It was genuinely exciting. Then, disaster. Ryan went up for a rebound, collided with another player, and landed wrong. He went down. Hard. The gym went silent. 4 I froze, then automatically started pushing my way through the crowd. By the time I got to the edge of the court, Ryan’s teammates were already helping him off, handing him over to a trainer. They were heading toward the locker rooms. The crowd was thick. Someone jostled me, and I stumbled. By the time I looked up, Ryan was gone. I pulled out my phone and called him. It rang for a few seconds before he picked up, hissing in pain. “S-Sis?” “Where are you? Are you okay?” “Yeah, just twisted my ankle. It’s fine. My buddy’s taking me to the campus clinic. Probably just need to ice it,” Ryan said. “Are you still watching? Text me the final score.” “…” That’s what he’s worried about? The game kept going. But with Ryan out, the purple team’s energy flagged. The score difference started to widen. Liam was just too good. His passes, his dribbling, his shots—they were all clean, sharp, and brutal. A guy in front of me whistled. “Man, Liam is playing for an audience today. Is his crush here or something?” Someone else laughed. “Right? This isn’t the NBA, dude.” Without Ryan, his team’s defense fell apart. The black team won by a handful of points. The gym erupted in cheers. I watched Liam, the center of everyone’s attention, immediately scan the crowd. He was looking right at me. People were already moving to congratulate him, to hand him water. They already had cases of water by their bench. But Liam ignored all of them and started walking, weaving through the crowd, straight toward the bleachers. The crowd around me stirred. Even his teammates were yelling, “Liam, where you going?” I saw him wave them off, too far away to hear what he said. I saw Hannah, the girl in the white dress, step forward and hold out her water bottle to him. I couldn’t see her expression, but I heard the “ooohs” from the crowd. A pretty girl and a star athlete. It was a picture-perfect moment. Liam said something to her, pointed vaguely into the crowd, and Hannah turned, looking lost, searching for… something. And Liam just walked right past her. He was electric. Everyone’s eyes followed him. And for the first time since graduating, I felt that high-school feeling of all eyes on me. This was different from a boardroom meeting. Liam stopped right in front of me. The crowd went quiet, all eyes landing on me. My clothes—a silk blouse and tailored slacks—were definitely not “college-student-casual.” “Chloe,” he said, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his hair. “Where’s my water?” This absolute drama king. The star of the game, walking past everyone, to demand a drink from his mystery girlfriend. 5 “Sorry,” I said, feeling a little guilty. “Someone… drank it.” Ryan, that little rat. “You have one right there,” Liam said, his eyes dropping to the second bottle still in my hand. I looked down at the water. “Oh. But… I already drank from this.” I’d taken a sip right after I bought it. It was cold. I couldn’t resist. You could tell the seal was broken. Liam’s gaze softened. His eyelashes were long. “So? Can’t I drink it?” His voice was so soft it felt like he was pouting. My heart did a stupid little thump. “Well, if you don’t mind…” Before I finished, he’d taken the bottle from my hand, twisted the cap, and started drinking. He tilted his head back, gulping it down, his Adam’s apple bobbing. A drop of sweat ran down his temple and neck. It was… distractingly hot. He finished half the bottle before lowering it. “Ready to go, Chloe?” “Don’t you have to go back to your team?” “Nope.” I glanced back at the court. His teammates were definitely staring, their faces a mix of confusion and gossip. Liam gently took my wrist and started walking. When we were a safe distance away from the gym, he stopped. “Chloe, I need to hit the locker room and change. I’m disgusting. Can you wait for me in that empty lecture hall right there?” He was covered in sweat. I had no objections. While I waited, my brother messaged me. Ryan: Sis, my friends said Liam’s mysterious girlfriend was at the game. Did you see her? Was she hot? … Me: Gorgeous. I have, after all, a very healthy self-esteem. Ryan: I don’t believe you. Ryan: No way she’s hotter than Hannah. Me: Does Hannah even know your name? Stop dreaming. As expected, my brother exploded. A stream of all-caps messages came through, which I ignored. Liam was back. He’d run. He’d changed into dark jeans and a white v-neck tee, and a silver chain I recognized—one I’d sent him—rested against his collarbone. He smelled amazing, like cheap, generic-brand body wash, but on him, it just smelled… clean. His hair was still damp. I smiled. “Why didn’t you dry your hair?” Liam paused. “I didn’t want to make you wait.” He was a young man, but I still saw him as the 18-year-old kid who’d bragged to me on Discord. It was a filter I couldn’t shake. “I’m starving. Want to get dinner?” I asked. “Yeah. Okay.” He’d been here three years; he knew the area. He took me to a place he said had the best food and atmosphere. Right before we went in, I checked my phone. Ryan had sent me a list of his favorite places. This one was at the top. Ryan: CHLOE, YOUR BROTHER IS INJURED AND YOU’RE JUST THINKING ABOUT FOOD? Ryan: Fine. I’m starving. Bring me back takeout. I Venmo’d him $1,000. Me: Handle it. Ryan: [Received $1,000] Ryan: SISTER, MY QUEEN, I WILL ALWAYS SUPPORT YOUR REIGN! “…”

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Julian Astor had that kind of aura. The kind you read about. I decided he was the perfect “first love.” Even if we broke up, the memory alone would be worth it. So, I chased him. Hard. He was finally cornered, and maybe a little charmed, so he agreed to date me. But he had rules. A three-point contract: We date. We do not get married. We break up the day we graduate. I agreed immediately. We were together for three years, performing the part of the perfect college romance. The day we graduated, I was the one who brought it up. “Well, this is it.” He refused. I was stunned. “But we had a deal! We agreed. Graduate, then break up.” I remember clearly how that conversation ended. It was a disaster. Julian, who never had to lower his head for anyone, gave this broken, self-deprecating laugh. “Summer,” he said, “you better pray we never see each other again.” From that day on, I avoided his entire world. But sometimes, God just flicks a domino, and no matter how big the world is, two people are destined to collide. 1 Julian and I had an unspoken rule. We were a campus-only couple. The second we left for a holiday, we were done. We went back to our respective homes and had zero contact. In those silent weeks, he was Julian Astor, the heir to a New York dynasty. I was just Summer Davis from Charlotte, North Carolina. No texts. No calls. We didn’t ask where the other was. It was like we were single again. I thought this… niche… arrangement would work perfectly until we broke up. But sophomore year, the summer break was unusually long. Eighty days. Before we left, he asked me, “Will you miss me?” I wrapped my arms around his neck, playing the part. “Mmm, I’ll miss you so much.” He just kissed the top of my head. He didn’t say, “Text me if you do.” That’s what I loved about Julian. He was logical. His family was top-tier. His future wife would be chosen from the same pool. We both knew we had no future. This was just… an experience. A taste of a normal college romance. And I, apparently, was his “type.” On campus, I was his girlfriend. Off campus, when he was “Julian Astor,” he didn’t want to be disturbed. I played my part perfectly. I never crossed the line. I never, ever expected him to be the one to break the rules. The summer was dragging on. He texted me. He was coming back to campus early. A full month before classes started. I was shocked. I teased him: Why, miss me already? He never replied to that text. But after that, the rules started to bend. During the next long break, he asked, “Want to go on a trip?” Most of the time, I said yes. We went everywhere. We watched the stars in Joshua Tree. We saw the sunset over the Keys. I’d get lost in the view, and he’d always startle me by kissing me. He loved to cup my face, that dominant, top-down kiss. He always liked being in control, liked seeing me overwhelmed. But every single time, right at the critical moment, I’d be the one to kill the mood. I’d stop him. Julian, his eyes dark with desire, his throat working, would just raise an eyebrow. What’s wrong? My answer was always the same. “I don’t want to.” He would be sweating, completely wired, but if I said stop, he stopped. He’d get up, take an ice-cold shower, and come back to bed to just hold me. After I’d done this a dozen times, I think he figured it out. He’d feel the mood shift, and before I even had to say anything, he’d get up and head for the shower himself. There was one exception. He saw a text on my phone from a friend back home. “Who’s this?” he asked. “Just a friend from Charlotte,” I told him. He didn’t say anything else about it. But that night, he was rough. He wouldn’t stop. I pushed against him. He grabbed my wrists, pinned them. I turned my head away. “Julian, I said no!” “Why?” he demanded, his voice low. “Because of that ‘friend’ from Charlotte?” He was such a proud guy, but when he got jealous, he was impossible. I never said it out loud, but he knew. The reason I wouldn’t go all the way was because I knew he wasn’t the man I’d end up with. I didn’t want the bond to be any deeper than it already was. Julian was a gentleman. He understood, and he backed off. But after that night, every time we got close, it felt like he was fighting a war with himself. 2 Junior year. We were getting close to the deadline. The thought of it ending started to sting. To protect myself, I started to emotionally check out. That year, he planned a trip to the UK. The second day we were in Kent, I was dead asleep, still jet-lagged, when a group of people burst into the hotel room. I was forcibly put into a wedding dress, my makeup was done, and I was hurried into a horse-drawn carriage. I have no idea when Julian planned it. He’d arranged a wedding. At Canterbury Cathedral. With a real priest. There were no guests. Just us. A wedding that meant nothing. It wasn’t until we exchanged rings that I understood. Months ago, he’d asked for a ring for his birthday—a simple gold band. It was so he’d have one to give me when I gave him his. It was an invalid ceremony. We both knew it. But that night, when Julian got up, breathing hard, heading for his usual cold shower, I grabbed his hand. I pulled him back onto the bed and kissed him. He shuddered, his voice cracking. “Summer.” “It’s our wedding night, Julian,” I whispered. “Don’t be a buzzkill.” Who cares. That’s what I thought. Whatever happens, happens. Today, right now, I was his bride. I let myself go. Just this once. …What I thought was “just once” turned into… many times. Once a boundary is broken, it’s gone. We were both out of control. The brakes were gone. I told myself it was just a final countdown. A last, wild indulgence. I didn’t know when he would bring up the breakup. The contract just said “graduation.” I waited. He never said a word. My flight back to Charlotte was booked. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed a clean break. I asked him to dinner. A quiet restaurant near campus. I thought I knew how he’d react. He’d be his usual, unflappable self. A sophisticated nod, a “Thanks for the memories,” and a handshake. I didn’t expect him to just stare at me and say, “No.” I blinked. “No, what?” His eyes locked on mine. “Summer. I’m not breaking up with you.” 3 My brain short-circuited. Julian wasn’t the type to go back on his word. He was defined by his integrity. I had always assumed the breakup was set in stone. I never saw this coming. When did he change his mind? I was panicking. I had never, ever, planned on a future with him. This was supposed to be a win-win. His last-minute reversal knocked me off my feet. I couldn’t speak. I just stared. My reaction must not have been what he was hoping for. His voice suddenly sounded urgent. “I know what you’re worried about. Summer, give me five years.” “Five years. I promise you, after five years, no one in my family will be able to interfere with my marriage.” “We’ll have another wedding. A real one. With our families, a license, telling the whole world we’re for each other.” “Summer,” he asked, “what do you say?” I just looked at him, my heart hammering, and I finally forced the words out, my voice sounding weak. “But… we had a deal. Graduate, then break up.” He flinched, as if I’d slapped him. “What?” This was it. If I didn’t make it clean, it would be a mess. I took a deep breath. “I want to break up, Julian.” His gaze shot toward me, sharp enough to hurt. “Why?” His voice was dead calm. I’d never felt this kind of pressure from him. I just had to rip the Band-Aid off. I let it all spill out. “Because we don’t match.” “Because I have no ambition. I just want a quiet life. I want to eat good food and sleep well.” “I don’t want to be criticized because my ‘bloodline’ isn’t good enough.” “I don’t want to deal with the complicated, toxic world of the rich.” “Marrying you means all of that is unavoidable.” “So,” I finished, my voice getting quiet, “I never, ever planned on this going anywhere.” I suddenly felt… cruel. He was planning a future, and I was calculating my losses. He was ready to fight a war for me, and I was already planning my escape. “I’ve said what I needed to say.” I stood up, desperate to leave. “I’m going. Take care.” I turned. His hand shot out and grabbed my arm. A steel grip. I looked back. He was still sitting, staring up at me. This proud, untouchable man looked like he’d been left in the rain. “If you never wanted a future,” he asked, his voice hollow, “why did you let me touch you?” I flinched. I ripped my arm out of his grasp. I forced a cold laugh. “I didn’t realize you were so old-fashioned. It wasn’t a big deal to me.” He looked like I’d physically struck him. He slowly pushed his chair back and stood up. He was so tall, he cast a shadow over me. “Summer,” he said, his voice terrifyingly low. “You better pray we never see each other again. Because if we do, I don’t know what I’ll do to you.” My palms were sweating, but I kept my face blank. I shouldn’t have done this. I should never have gotten involved with him. I fled the restaurant. I flew back to Charlotte and I didn’t look back. I even avoided New York when I traveled. I thought I would never see him again. I really, really thought that. 4 My cousin Mia was marrying into new money. She invited me to the wedding. In New York City. I immediately declined. But the groom’s family had “vetted” the guest list from Mia’s side. I was the only one they approved. My own aunt wasn’t allowed to see her daughter get married. So, I was “respectfully requested” to be the sole representative of the bride’s family. We were all put up in a luxury hotel. The night before the wedding, Mia gets a text. A dozen photos of her fiancé, Zach, with another woman. And a video. There was a “Single’s Ending” party happening at a mansion 20 miles away. In the video, Zach was making out with some girl. Mia stared at her phone, turned it off, and looked at me and her six bridesmaids. “Alright, girls,” she said. “We’re going to a party.” I never thought I’d see Julian Astor. Not in a city this big. The odds… But God has a twisted sense of humor. Mia was there to make a point. She found the girl from the video and slapped her. The girl looked to Zach, who just grinned, not offering to help. Turns out, Mia and Zach had a “contract” of their own. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as the other women didn’t bother her. If they did, Mia had a green light, and Zach wouldn’t interfere. Mia dragged the girl out by her hair. Zach just shut the door behind her, put his arm around Mia’s waist, and said, “Babe, don’t be rude. You’re here, you have to go say hi to Julian.” Mia, her hair a mess, just smoothed her dress. “Right. Let me fix my face.” Zach left her and went over to a quieter, more intimidating table. Mia looked at the table. “Okay, bridesmaids,” she whispered. “See that table? Everyone is fair game… except the one in the middle.” I looked. My blood turned to ice. I saw him. He hadn’t seen me. It was Julian. Four years older, the last traces of college gone. He was sharper, heavier… just… more. One of the bridesmaids, Isabelle, the most beautiful one, immediately asked, “Why not him?” Mia’s voice was serious. “He’s out of our league. Don’t even think about it. It’s not worth the trouble.”

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My boyfriend, Ryan, DoorDashed me $5.80 worth of barbecue and then claimed it was the last of his spending money for the month. He immediately sent me an Amazon checkout link for $1,899. “Come on, my little sugar mama,” he texted. “Time to make it rain. I spent all my cash on you.” I stared at the $5.80 order on my desk. One single, sad beef skewer. Two sticks of burnt-tasting chives. That night, I emptied my entire online shopping cart. “Sorry,” I texted him back. “My spending money is all gone, too.” 1 I was dripping sweat after finishing my run at the campus stadium. The night air smelled like honeysuckle. My phone buzzed. A text from Ryan: 【My princess, your loyal servant has sent a food offering. It’s at your door! ~】 It ended with a gif of a golden retriever wagging its tail. I smiled. After four years with Ryan, these little things were part of our daily life. My friends always said I must have saved a country in a past life to find a boyfriend this thoughtful. But when I opened the bag, I just froze. Inside the plastic container were three lonely skewers. One shriveled piece of beef. Two blackened sticks of chives. I was completely baffled. This has to be the wrong order. I checked the receipt stapled to the bag. The order was correct. My name was on it. Then my eyes hit the total. $5.80. My brain just… buzzed. Like I’d been hit. Everything went blank. 2 At that exact second, a FaceTime call popped up. It was Ryan. On the screen, he was wearing the Givenchy T-shirt I bought him, his hair still dripping from a shower. “Babe, why the long face?” He flashed his signature grin. “Oh, hey, speaking of—” His fingers moved off-screen. A new message popped into our chat. An Amazon payment link. A brand-new gaming laptop. $1,899.99. “Mind helping your man out? Gold star, please?” His voice was light and casual, the one he always used. “Your boy spent his last dime keeping you fed. My senior thesis is due, and my old laptop is dying. This one’s on an student discount, so you gotta be quick.” My finger twitched, moving toward the ‘Approve Payment’ button on autopilot. But my head was suddenly exploding with a high-speed montage of other, similar moments. It seemed like every “gift” from him was just the setup for a much bigger “ask.” He’d buy me a $6 boba, and then spend the next day complaining his Nikes were shot, hinting about the new Jordans. He’d treat me to a $15 bowl of ramen, and two days later, he’d be sighing about how slow his phone was. I’d buy him the new iPhone. The $20 bodega roses he got me for Valentine’s Day cost me my $1,500 DSLR camera, which he “needed for a class project.” My finger moved away from the ‘Approve’ button. 3 Ryan leaned closer to the camera, fluttering his damp eyelashes. “Come on, Ella. You know how important this thesis is. My graduation depends on it… our graduation.” I stared at the pathetic meal on my desk. The receipt was practically glowing: $5.80. A surge of anger, hot and sharp, shot up my spine. I flipped my camera around and aimed it at the desk. “Ryan,” my voice was shaking, “is this what you call ‘keeping me fed’?” Thank God my roommates weren’t back. If they were here, I probably would have just quietly swallowed my pride. Faced with the evidence, Ryan went silent. Then, his face settled into a look of calm innocence. “What’s wrong, babe? That’s your favorite barbecue place.” Then, he dialed up the victim act. “Ella… are you mad because it’s cheap? You’re looking down on me, is that it?” All the accusations I had ready to go suddenly felt like a lump of cotton stuck in my throat. He had me cornered. I just felt… gross. After a beat, his voice went soft. “Babe, don’t be mad. I’m skipping meals, living on instant noodles. I used my last six bucks to get you that. My last six dollars went to you.” That line snapped the last thread of my patience. “You spend $5.80 on me and expect me to buy you a $1,900 laptop in return? Your math is incredible, Ryan!” 4 Ryan’s eyes widened, then he immediately switched to looking pitiful. “Ella, I’m over-budget this month. I had to ask my sister for twenty bucks. That money for your food… that was literally all I had.” Ryan came from a working-class family. His monthly allowance was about $400. He sometimes needed his sister to help him out. But because of that, in four years, he’d never been stingy. Not in the “traditional” sense. He’d always been the guy who, if he had $100, would spend $99 on me, and then use the last dollar to buy me a water. It’s why I’d planned on marrying him. My mom even approved. She said as long as he was a good person and truly loved me, his background didn’t matter. The day he graduated, he’d have a job at my family’s company. A house, cars… she’d take care of it all. He wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. I had never once doubted his love. I had never once wavered. Until now. Ryan pouted. “You get $5,000 a month. Think of this as an investment in us, right?” “When I graduate and make it big, I’m going to spoil my girl. You know that.” I didn’t agree to buy the laptop before we hung up. It was the first time I had ever told him no. He immediately stopped texting. He was punishing me with silence. Then, a new post appeared on his Instagram story. A single, sad-eyed emoji. The message was clear. 5 I couldn’t hold it in. I told my roommates. I needed a sanity check. Jenna slammed the empty skewer into the trash can. “Didn’t he just have you ‘reimburse’ him $500 for ‘group project materials’ last month?” She started counting on her fingers. “Since you two got together… clothes, shoes, fraternity dues, his family’s Christmas presents… Ella, you’ve probably spent over $15,000 on him.” “But he’s sweet to me,” I argued, pulling up my Venmo history. “Look, he bought me boba yesterday.” “A $6 boba for a $1,900 laptop?” Jenna scoffed. “That’s a better return than a crypto scam.” The curtain from the top bunk suddenly flew open. Sarah poked her head out. “Guys, don’t be so harsh.” She made a dramatic face. “I literally saw Ryan in the dining hall. He was eating plain rice with the free ketchup… for a whole week.” I just stared at the ceiling. I met Ryan at a debate tournament. He was wearing a shirt that was clean but had been washed so many times it was paper-thin. He wasn’t intimidated by anyone. His closing argument was, “You can’t put a price tag on love.” At the after-party, he’d secretly piled all the shrimp from the buffet onto my plate. I watched him eat a cold bread roll. “My princess deserves the best,” he’d whispered. Now, that bread roll felt like it was stuck in my throat. 6 Jenna had an idea. “It’s simple,” she said. “Just tell him you’re broke. See what happens when the bank of Ella is closed.” I agreed. That weekend, we went to the movies. I had a membership at the local luxury theater, so I just scanned my card. The second we got to our recliner seats, Ryan started inhaling the free popcorn and snacks. Like he hadn’t eaten in days. It just… amplified the “ick” I was feeling. I didn’t hear a single line of the movie. Just crunch, crunch, crunch. When we left, he could tell I was pissed. He grabbed my hand, pouting. “Babe, I’m just trying to save up for the laptop. I’m barely eating.” Save up? With his allowance, how long would that take? And his family wasn’t that poor. His parents both had solid union jobs. They weren’t broke. “We’re saving every penny for you, babe!” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m the man. I can handle being hungry. It’s for our future.” I was about to tell him my family didn’t care about that, but he cut me off. “So… about the laptop… can my little sugar mama just help me out?” “This is pocket change for you, Ella. But it’s… it’s my whole thesis. If I’m late, we can’t graduate together. You don’t want that, do you?” The words, “Fine, I’ll buy it for you,” were right on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed them. 7 I’ll be honest: I fell for Ryan because he was gorgeous. He was sweet, he was charming, and when he’d pout, I’d have given him the world. And for four years, I did. I didn’t even wait for him to ask. I saw him looking at something; I bought it. His entire wardrobe, from his boxers to his winter coat, was from me. This money… it was nothing to me. But I was supposed to give it. He wasn’t supposed to ask. My mom’s voice echoed in my head: “A man can be poor, Ella. He can’t be a leech.” I thought of Jenna’s advice. I looked at Ryan’s face. He was so confident. He was 100% sure I was going to cave. My blood ran cold. “I can’t,” I said. “I’m broke. I spent all my allowance.” Ryan’s smile froze. He blinked. His voice got high. “What? You get five thousand dollars. How is it gone?” His reaction was all the confirmation I needed. I pulled my arm out of his grip. “I cleared out my shopping cart,” I said. “Do you have a problem with that?”

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“Never trust a man’s promises. Only trust a signed contract.” My mother said that on her deathbed. I didn’t understand it then. Not until my fiancé slid a prenuptial agreement across the table—one that listed the $600,000 I’d paid for our down payment as an “unconditional gift,” and stated that in a divorce, I would walk away with nothing. 1. The last of my mother’s life was trapped in her lungs, but her grip on my hand was iron. “Maya,” she rasped, her eyes, clouded by morphine, suddenly clear as glass. “I have nothing to leave you. I’ve been a fool my whole life, but I learned one thing…” “Never trust a man’s promises. Trust the ink. Trust the contract.” It was the last thing she ever said to me. It became the first rule I lived by. My name is Maya. I’m 27. I graduated top of my class from Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I had offers from every white-shoe law firm in Manhattan. My future was a straight line to a corner office. Then, a single piece of paper—a stage-four cancer diagnosis—dragged me back to earth. To take care of my mother, I abandoned my path to a seven-figure salary. I took a job at a small legal aid clinic in the Bronx. Five years. I buried my mother. I also got a front-row seat to the filth of human nature. I’ve seen a husband pull the plug on his sick wife to liquidate her assets. I’ve seen children throw their father’s ashes in a dumpster while fighting over his retirement account. I learned everything there is to know about the rot that can fester in marriage and blood. It made me cynical, and it made me tough as nails. 2. To most people, my job is a joke. “A glorified social worker,” they call it. “Noble, but… you know. Poor.” To my fiancé, Ben, it’s my single greatest feature. Ben’s a financial advisor at Morgan Stanley. He’s a man desperate to “marry up,” and I, apparently, am his ladder. My Ivy League degree makes me a “premium accessory” he can show off to his clients. The fact that I’m an orphan with no family connections, a “good-natured” (read: conflict-averse) personality, and a “simple” job makes me the perfect “support system.” Translation: I’m easy to control. He loves to put his arm around me at parties, his voice dripping with that perfect blend of pride and pity. “This is my fiancée, Maya. Columbia Law. She’s got such a good heart, she couldn’t stand the sharks in my world. She works in legal aid now. Basically charity.” He’d pause, his voice just loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I just focus on earning, so she can be free to be a saint.” It always gets a round of applause. He’s so “supportive.” I’m so “lucky” to have found a man who isn’t intimidated by my intelligence. And I just stand there and smile, my ribs aching from his grip. My passion, my profession… reduced to “saint.” As if my entire life’s work is a cute hobby he funds. Late at night, I’d tell myself he just didn’t have the right words. I’d look at the Pinterest board I’d made for our future apartment—bright, warm, and full of light. I thought if I just held on, the future we were building would make all of this feel small. 3. This slow, simmering gaslighting was just an appetizer. His mother served the main course. Every time I saw his mother, Karen, she’d start with: “Maya, honey, why are you working so hard? Ben’s bonus last quarter was $200,000. That’s more than you’ll make in… well… ever.” “That ‘legal aid’ thing… it sounds nice, but it doesn’t pay for nice things. Once you’re married, you need to quit. A man like Ben needs a wife at home, supporting his career. That’s the real work.” Ben, of course, would play the peacemaker. “Mom,” he’d laugh, “Maya has her passions.” Then he’d grab my hand under the table, squeeze it, and mouth, “Don’t listen. She’s old-school.” What could I say? I’d just swallow the bite of food in my mouth, along with my rebuttal. They didn’t understand. The cases I handled… the dollar amounts were small, but the stakes were everything: a child’s custody, a family’s last defense against eviction. They only understood dollars. 4. The first real crack appeared when we bought the condo. The down payment was a million dollars. I had my mother’s life insurance payout—$500,000—and every penny I’d saved for five years: $100,000. I sent Ben the wire transfer confirmation for $600,000. I added a note: “This is everything I have, for our home.” He replied almost instantly: “You’re amazing, babe! Got it!” He put in $400,000. At the sales office, the agent and the mortgage broker orbited Ben and his mother, calling him “Mr. Johnson,” laughing at his jokes, talking about equity and school districts. I was an afterthought, trailing behind them. “Excuse me,” I finally cut in, “what’s the HOA’s reserve fund? What are the covenants on renting? And is the parking spot deeded or assigned?” The room went silent. Ben’s mother shot me a look of pure annoyance. “Maya, honestly. Don’t worry your pretty head about that. That’s what the men are for.” Ben immediately jumped in, pulling me into a side-hug. “Babe, I got this. You just worry about what color we’re going to paint the nursery.” The two of them, a perfect tag team. I just stood there, my chest tight. 5. We got the condo. When we went to sign the final closing documents, I saw it. A stack of papers an inch thick. And on the deed, the line for “Grantee” read: Benjamin R. Johnson, a single man. My blood went cold. I held up the paper and just looked at him. He was ready. He pulled me aside, his face a mask of practiced, gentle patience. “Babe, listen, don’t freak out. I have a ‘first-time home buyer’ credit. It saves us a ton on the interest rate. We’re talking hundreds a month. Putting it in my name only is just… it’s just smart finance. It’s for us.” “I put in six hundred thousand dollars,” I said, my voice flat. “I know! Of course I know how much you’re sacrificing!” He grabbed my hands. His eyes were so sincere, he could have won an Oscar. “My money, your money… it’s our money, right? Does it really matter whose name is on a piece of paper? Don’t you trust me? Don’t you trust us?” There it was. The “trust” test. He was turning his cold, calculated fraud into a referendum on my love. If I questioned it, I was the one with the problem. I was the one being materialistic. I suddenly remembered a case. A woman, sobbing in my office. Her husband had convinced her to sell her pre-marital condo and invest the cash in his new business, “to build our dream together.” He filed for divorce six months later. She left with nothing. I’d thought, “How could anyone be so stupid?” Now, it was my turn. 6. I looked at Ben’s earnest, loving face. In my peripheral vision, I saw his mother, watching us. Her arms were crossed, a tiny, smug smile on her lips. In that instant, all my exhaustion, my frustration… it all just evaporated. It was replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a strategy. A carefully planned hunt. And I was the prey. “Maya? Babe? It’s okay, right?” Ben was rubbing my arm, like I was a hysterical child. I took a deep breath. When I looked up, I was smiling again. The same warm, compliant smile I’d worn for years. “You’re right,” I said softly. “I’m sorry. I trust you.” Never forget, I told myself, what my mother said. She said to trust the contract. And today, I had just been conned out of mine. But I would have another. That night, in my own apartment, I created a new, encrypted folder on my laptop. I named it: “Ben Johnson – $600k Loan Evidence.” I saved the wire transfer confirmation. I saved our entire text history discussing the 60/40 split. Then, I opened the cloud drive for the digital recorder I carry. I clipped the audio from the sales office—Ben’s smooth, “it’s for us” speech—and saved it as “Exhibit A: Fraudulent Inducement.” 7. One week before the wedding, the “family dinner.” It was at a private room in a high-end steakhouse. Ben’s mother was in her element, “welcoming me to the family.” “Maya, honey, you’re a daughter to me now! If Ben ever gives you trouble, you just call me!” she said, squeezing my arm. Ben held my hand, staring at me like I was the only person in the world. Then, after the steaks were cleared, the main event. Karen, Ben’s mother, reached into her Hermès bag and pulled out a sleek, leather-bound folder. Her smile was beatific. “Maya, we’re all reasonable people here. We just believe in being transparent. It’s not about trust, honey. It’s just… business. A little security for Ben. And for you, too, of course.” She slid the folder across the table. On the cover, in embossed gold lettering: PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT My heart was cold, but I smiled and opened it. Ben’s cousin, a first-year associate who had just passed the bar, leaned in, smelling of smugness and cheap perfume. “It’s standard for high-net-worth couples, Maya,” she explained, as if to a child. “Asset isolation. It’s just smart financial planning. You’re marrying a man who thinks about the future. You should be thrilled.” I ignored her. I read the contract. It was a work of art. Clause 1: The marital residence (the one I’d paid 60% of) is the sole and separate property of Ben Johnson. Clause 2: The $600,000 contributed by Maya for said property is hereby acknowledged as an unconditional gift. “Gift.” The word burned. Clause 3: Post-nuptials, all income earned by Maya shall be considered marital property. All bonuses, commissions, and investment returns earned by Ben shall be his separate property. They wanted a breadwinner and a maid, all in one. Clause 4: In the event of divorce, Maya voluntarily waives all rights to primary custody of any children born of the marriage. They had pre-emptively taken my children.

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My brother is a vampire, and I’m a glutton. One late night, I secretly drank from his blood pouch and discovered it was sweet! He’d been pretending to be a vampire for ten years, all because I was obsessed with novels when I was little, and begged for a vampire brother. After learning the truth, I pulled my brother out of his “ice coffin,” “Brother, go back to bed from now on. It’s too cold here.” I absolutely can’t let him know that what I was reading back then, was a pseudo-incest novel. 1 I never bring friends home. Like, ever. I can’t risk them finding out my brother’s secret—he’s a mutant vampire who survives on blood bags. Other vampires are immortal, but since my brother, Ethan, only drinks animal blood, he grows and ages right alongside me. We were both adopted by Grandma Sterling. I figure Ethan’s birth parents must have dumped him at the foster home because he was a vampire. I don’t care, though. I think it’s awesome. I don’t mind that he’s a vampire, and he doesn’t mind that I’m a bottomless pit. 2 Grandma always said my stomach was a black hole and that it was a miracle I was never kidnapped as a kid by someone offering me candy. Ethan worries I’ll starve. Even though I’m in college and only home on weekends, he stocks the fridge and pantry until they’re literally overflowing. But when I got home today, something felt wrong. Ethan wasn’t here. Arthur, our housekeeper, said Ethan was feeling unwell and had gone to “that place” to rest. “That place” is the one room he’s forbidden me from entering. Every full moon, he holes up in there to “recover” until it’s over. Ugh. With Ethan gone, even the snack cabinet was empty. Night fell. I’d eaten dinner, but I was still starving and couldn’t sleep. Around midnight, I snuck into the kitchen looking for a snack. The fridge was totally empty. Except for the refrigerated drawer… It was meticulously organized with Ethan’s “rations”—animal blood bags, all neatly labeled by type. I picked up a bag labeled ‘O-Negative.’ I swallowed, my mouth watering. No! Cici, bad! That’s Ethan’s food! But… he always makes it look so delicious when he drinks it… …I mean, just one sip? Curiosity and hunger defeated my conscience. I tore open a corner of the bag and took a huge swig. It was… sweet. And rich. And… fruity. Like overripe cherry juice… Wait. Sweet?! I didn’t believe it. I took another massive gulp. I was 100% sure. This wasn’t blood plasma. This was high-fructose cherry juice. 3 A terrifying thought hit me. Ethan’s been drinking fake blood? Then how is he… No. Wait. Maybe he can’t drink real blood. Which means… He’s been pretending to be a vampire? I started running through all the “evidence” from the past ten years, and my scalp began to prickle. Vampires don’t eat hot food. We always had two meals: my hot dinner and Ethan’s “cold” one. I’d be tearing into a rack of ribs, grease up to my elbows, and he’d just watch me, looking disgusted… or so I thought. That wasn’t disgust. He was swallowing because he was craving the ribs. Vampires are nocturnal and fear the sun. Ethan claimed he was a “high-level” vampire who could tolerate the sun, but only with “protection.” Even on the hottest summer days, he’d be bundled up in long sleeves, pants, and a huge hat. He’d come home looking totally wrecked. I thought it was sun damage. He was having a heatstroke. He wasn’t just faking. He was a “method” vampire. He “feared” garlic, silver, and crosses. His skin was pale, his lips were always red, and he kept vampire hours. Other than not killing people, he was straight out of a movie. His study was always dark, heavy curtains drawn 24/7. And “that place” he rested… was the cold, damp basement. I snuck in once, years ago. All that was in there was a “bed” that looked exactly like an ice coffin, frost crawling up the sides. If Ethan isn’t a vampire—if he’s just a normal guy like me—how could he stand sleeping in that frigid thing? And why? Why has he been playing this part for a decade? 4 I had to test him. The next morning, I took a blood bag and camped out by the basement door. Right on schedule, Ethan emerged, wrapped in a cloud of cold air. He was wearing a dark red silk robe, open at the chest, his slightly-too-long hair tied back. He looked every bit the part of the decadent, moody vampire. No wonder I never questioned it. In my head, this is what vampires are supposed to look like. He saw me crouched by the door and jumped. “Cici! What are you doing, planting yourself on the floor?” I leaped up and threw myself into his freezing arms. “Ethan, you’ve suffered so much!” He stumbled back, almost hitting the door. “What? What’s wrong?” He patted my head. “Did someone bully you?” I looked at his lips, which were genuinely pale from the cold, and my heart ached. “Ethan, I know everything. You don’t have to—” Before I could finish, Arthur, our housekeeper, hurried over. “Mr. Ethan, he is here to see you…” I shivered. Ethan’s “nemesis” was here. 5 Ethan has this mortal enemy, Ryan. Ethan told me Ryan’s a werewolf and to stay away from him. If Ethan’s a fake vampire, Ryan’s “werewolf” thing is probably just as fake. I followed Ethan into the dining room. Ryan was already there, lounging at the table, casually spreading jam on some toast with a butter knife. “Well, well. Look who’s up before noon. Aren’t you afraid you’ll burst into flames, big bro?” Ryan winked at me, then offered me the sandwich. “Here you go, Cici. All for you.” Ethan intercepted it immediately. His voice was icy. “She doesn’t take food from strangers.” “A stranger? How am I a stranger?” Ryan ignored Ethan’s death glare and grinned. “I’m practically your better half.” Ethan jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Spit it out or get out.” “Fine, fine. I’ve got a lead on that thing you had me investigating—” “Cici,” Ethan cut him off, his voice suddenly gentle as he turned to me. “Could you be a dear and grab me an AB-Negative blood bag from the kitchen?” Right. Secret business I’m not allowed to hear. “Sure thing.” AB-Negative? I drank the O-Neg. Do different blood types have different flavors? 6 By the time I got back, Ryan was gone. And the sandwich he’d made? It was sitting “peacefully” at the bottom of the trash can. On my plate was a new sandwich, crusts cut off, personally made by Ethan. He tore open his “blood bag” like normal. As he was about to drink, I spoke up. “Ethan… can I try a sip?” Splat. The bag slipped from his hand, hitting the floor. His head snapped toward me. He grabbed my chin, forcing my mouth open, and inspected my teeth. “They’re not sharp… How did you…?” I pushed his hand away. “Ethan! I’m not turning into a vampire.” “Then why would you want a blood bag?” He looked frantic. “Did Ryan say something to you? What did he tell you?” I just shook my head. Wow. One simple test and he’s already sweating bullets. I backed off. It was pretty clear he wasn’t going to drop the act and confess just because I asked. Why is he pretending? Is it connected to whatever he had Ryan investigating? Now isn’t the time to push. “Eat this.” Ethan slid a new, upgraded sandwich in front of me—this one piled high with bacon, tomato, and a fried egg. Then he turned back to his “non-filling” cherry juice. Whatever his reason, he can’t keep sleeping in that “ice coffin.” He’s going to get arthritis. “Hey, Ethan? You should sleep in your real bed tonight.” I grabbed his hand. “The basement is way too cold.” He looked at me, touched. “It’s fine, Cici. I’m used to it.” I went quiet. Fine. If he won’t listen to reason, I’ll use force. I waited until he left the house for a meeting, then I skipped my afternoon classes, detoured home, and bought a hammer and a small axe from the hardware store. I kicked open the basement door. I was going to dismantle that “ice coffin” of his. 7 The door banged open. A wave of bitter cold hit me, seeping through my clothes. It’s freezing. To think Ethan sleeps in here every night… my eyes started to sting. Why is he pretending? I stalked into the room, axe in hand, and then I saw it. The room was bigger than I remembered. Behind the “ice coffin,” there was a huge, wall-sized mirror. Something about it looked wrong. It felt like there was space on the other side. I reached out and touched the glass. It suddenly rotated, swinging open to the left— The back of the mirror… was a massive… photo wall. When I saw what was on it, I collapsed, dropping the axe. The wall was covered in pictures of me. And photos of every single person I’d ever interacted with. They were all connected by a terrifying web of red string. My hands started shaking as I tore the photos down. This one! A guy circled in red. That’s the jock from the basketball team who asked me out last week. He sprained his ankle in practice this weekend. That one! The girl on top… she’s the school’s number-one mean girl. Last month, she and her clique tried to shake down my roommate. I stepped in, and she told me I’d “better watch my back.” I waited a month, but nothing ever happened. I figured she was all talk. Then I heard she’d been arrested for shoplifting. These, and those… Every single one was someone connected to me. A horrifying chill crawled up my spine. I’ve just stumbled onto a secret… way scarier than my brother not being a vampire. I had to get out of here. Now. A familiar footstep sounded on the stairs behind me. “Where is Cici?” A man’s voice, from upstairs. It was Arthur. “Sir, the young miss took tools into the basement.” I… I explicitly told Arthur not to tell Ethan I was home. I looked around wildly. There are no windows. Nowhere to hide. I heard a soft click from the top of the stairs. Did… did he leave? I let out a breath I was holding. And then, the footsteps started coming down. The photos scattered from my hands. Oh. That wasn’t the sound of a door closing. It was the sound of a lock. 8 I froze, my mind blank. My brother wasn’t just faking. He was monitoring me. The light from the stairwell was blocked by a tall silhouette. The shadow swallowed me whole. I slowly looked up, meeting Ethan’s eyes. They were completely black, all the warmth gone. He wasn’t my brother anymore. He was a stranger. “Cici,” his voice was soft, but it cut like an icy blade. “Who let you in here?” Arthur was behind him, wringing his hands, desperately trying to catch my eye. He was mouthing: “Apologize! Apologize!” My lips trembled, but I couldn’t speak. The photos on the floor were all the evidence he needed. He crouched down, his long fingers picking up one of the pictures. The jock circled in red. “This one,” he asked, his voice terrifyingly calm. “He asked you out?” I nodded. “And then?” “And then… he sprained his ankle.” Ethan let out a small, cold laugh. “You think that was a coincidence, Cici?” My heart plummeted. He stood up, looking down at me like I was an ant that had wandered into his territory. “Cecilia, I have protected you too well,” he said, enunciating every word. “So well that you actually believe this world is a fairy tale.” He turned his back to me. “Put everything back. Then go to your room. From now on, you are not to leave this house without my permission.” Is he… grounding me? This feels more like house arrest. “Why?” I finally found my voice, but it was choked with tears. “Ethan, who are you? Why are you doing this?” He didn’t turn around. He just tossed a cold sentence over his shoulder. “It’s for your own good.” “For my good?! Is monitoring me like a prisoner for my own good?!” I screamed at his back. “You investigate every person I talk to, you interfere in my life! What gives you the right?!” He stopped. “What gives me the right?” He turned around slowly. His handsome face, for the first time, looked broken. It was a mask of pain and self-loathing. “The right? I have it… because I’m your brother.” He walked out, not looking back. I heard the click again. He’d locked me in.

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Summer break. We went whitewater rafting in Georgia. The raft flipped. Me and Jason—the class pretty boy—both went under. Chloe, my childhood friend, swam straight for him, letting the current take me. The safety patrol guy who fished me out, an older dude named Bud, clapped my shoulder. “Kid, I saw the whole thing. That kind of girl ain’t worth it. Don’t you worry, I’ll go snag you a pretty one.” With that, he snagged the campus ice queen, Maya, and plopped her right into my lap. I… what? I looked at her cold, perfect face and panicked, trying to shove her off. The next second, I heard a weird voice. 【Why is he pushing me away? Does he like them stacked? He probably can’t tell under this life jacket.】 Before I could react, Maya started unzipping her windbreaker. I instinctively grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?” She blinked, her expression blank. “Hot.” Hot my ass. You’re lucky if you’re not hypothermic. I almost said it out loud, but one look at her stunning face and I swallowed the words. I still couldn’t believe it. I’d just verified I was hearing her thoughts, but this was Maya. She was famously cold. She didn’t talk to anyone. I heard some guy chased her for months and she never said a single word to him. Another dude bought her breakfast every day for a week, and she just stared him down until he walked away, totally humiliated. Thinking of that, I looked at my hand, still clamped on her wrist. Oh god. Is she going to kick me back into the river? I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned. “Uh, you should keep that on,” I coughed. “It gets cold on the water.” Maya slowly zipped the jacket back up and gave a single, curt nod. “Hm.” 【Is he worried about me?】 【He’s so cute. He didn’t even notice his shoe fell off.】 A second later, a pale, slender hand was holding a white Croc out to me. “You dropped this.” I looked down. My right foot was bare. After a beat of silence, I gave her an awkward laugh, took the shoe, and mumbled my thanks. She just nodded. Another thought popped into my head. 【So happy! He smiled at me! And said thank you!】 Okay. It’s official. I can read her mind. Just then, Bud paddled over, grinning. “So, kid, what’d I tell you? Pretty good eye, right? I scoped out this whole batch of rafters. She’s the prettiest one on the river. You like her?” I instinctively glanced at her—pale skin, sharp features that looked almost exotic, and a figure that was… well, yeah. Who wouldn’t like that? I swallowed, but when I met her cold, indifferent gaze, I immediately looked away. “Aw, don’t be shy,” Bud laughed, slapping my back. “I’ll help you out.” He turned to Maya. “Hey, little lady, you got a boyfriend?” Maya blinked, glanced at me, and then slowly shook her head. Bud lit up. He pointed at me. “How ’bout this fella? I think you two would make a real cute couple.” I shot up, ready to tell this crazy matchmaker to back off. But a clear, cold voice cut me off. “Okay.” I… what? Did she eat paint chips as a kid? I stared at her, my eyes wide. She looked back at me, that same icy expression… but with a tiny flicker of confusion. 【Why isn’t he saying yes? Am I not pretty enough to be his girlfriend?】 I almost choked. Lady, do you hear yourself? You’re the campus queen of our university. If YOU’RE not pretty enough… Ugh, it’s me. I’m not worthy, okay? “I lost my baby! Can anyone help me find my baby?” We had drifted into a calm patch, and other rafts were catching up. A woman in one of them was yelling frantically. Someone on another raft called back, “Ma’am, it’s just a shoe! You can buy a new one!” The woman, who I now recognized as Maya’s mom, Sharon, waved her hands. “No, not my shoe, my baby! My daughter! The rapids separated us…” Everyone went quiet. “Have any of you,” she yelled, “seen a tall, gorgeous girl in a black windbreaker?” I looked at Maya, sitting right in front of me. Tall, gorgeous, black windbreaker. “…Uh,” I ventured, “is she… looking for you?” Chapter 2 Maya glanced at her mom’s raft, then turned back to me. “Yes.” Well, are you going to say something? Your mom is having a panic attack! When she just sat there, I waved. “Ma’am! Over here! She’s here!” Sharon’s raft paddled over, and she almost cried with relief. “Maya, baby, I was so worried! I’ve been looking everywhere!” Maya just frowned. “I can swim.” “I don’t care, I was terrified! Why didn’t you answer your phone?” “Waterproof bag leaked. It’s dead.” She blankly held up the waterlogged phone. After another minute of fussing, Sharon told Maya to come back to her raft. Bud, our captain, looked between me and Maya, shaking his head in disappointment. But then, Maya spoke, loud and clear. “No. I’m not coming back. Your raft flips too easily.” I… what? Our raft also flipped. Like, ten minutes ago. We all went in. Bud just fished us out. All three of us—me, Bud, and Sharon—were completely baffled. Then, I heard it. 【No way am I going back! I swam so hard to get here. Besides, Bud’s not done matchmaking. He hasn’t even answered if he wants to be my boyfriend yet!】 My jaw dropped. Holy crap. I thought Bud just randomly snagged her. She swam to us. And hearing that “boyfriend” part… my face started to feel hot. Sharon’s eyes darted from Maya to me, and then back. Suddenly, her face lit up with understanding. “Oh! Well! You kids have fun!” she chirped, and ordered her guide to paddle away, not looking back once. Just as her mom left, Chloe’s raft drifted over. She was still holding onto Jason, who looked soaked and miserable. When Chloe saw me, she immediately let go of Jason. “Leo! Why are you on their boat? Come back, I saved you a spot!” She even shuffled over to make room. Maya, who had been scooping water out of our raft with a ladle, froze. I shot Chloe a glare. “No thanks. Wouldn’t want to break up your romantic moment.” Chloe’s face turned red. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re just mad I saved him instead of you, aren’t you?” “Yep,” I said, without hesitation. She looked at me, completely disappointed. “I can’t believe you’re being so petty, Leo. You know I’m the class president! It’s my responsibility to help a classmate who’s in trouble. I was coming to find you right after, I just… couldn’t see where you went.” I was so angry I grabbed my water gun and shot her in the face. “Easy for you to say! You weren’t the one left to drown!” If I could swim, I would have jumped onto her raft and pushed her in. Jason, seeing the drama, started his victim act. “Chloe… it’s all my fault. Don’t fight. I’ll just… I’ll just go.” Chapter 3 Chloe immediately grabbed him. “No, Jason, don’t go!” She turned back to me. “Leo, don’t you dare regret this! I…” I cut her off by blasting her with the water gun again. “Get lost!” The stream hit her right in the head. Before she could yell, I took off my other Croc, snatched the ladle from Maya’s hand, and threw them both at her. Jason, naturally, got hit by the spray. He looked like he was about to cry. But Chloe was too busy shrieking as I pelted her to comfort him. I was still furious, looking for more ammo. Bud, seeing the look in my eye, quickly hid his own super-soaker behind his back. “Not this one, son. It’s for my granddaughter.” I turned, disappointed, only to see Maya holding out… another water gun and a pair of pink women’s Crocs. I broke into a huge grin, grabbed my new weapons, and let them have it. Finally, they paddled away as fast as they could, defeated. After the battle, we drifted on. I looked down and saw Maya’s bare feet, already pale from the cold water. The guilt hit me. “Hey, I’m sorry I threw your shoes. I’ll buy you a new pair.” She looked up, and the corner of her mouth twitched. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Wait. Was that… a smile? I rubbed my eyes. I must have been angrier at Chloe than I thought. I was hallucinating. Bud just roared with laughter. “Hah! Pay her back? Kid, you just wait ’til we get to the end. There’s a mountain of lost shoes.” Just then, his expression turned serious. “Hold on! Rapids ahead!” A huge wave slammed into us. I lost my balance and pitched forward, right into Maya’s lap, instinctively grabbing her waist to steady myself. When the raft settled, I scrambled to get off her, but she just… wrapped her arms around my back and held on, burying her face in my chest. Seeing my confused look, she said, “Waves are big. Just holding on.” A light, fresh scent, like watermelon, hit me. My face went beet-red. I awkwardly put my arms around her, holding her steady. 【Oh my god. I’m hugging Leo. I’m never washing my hands again.】 You’re so weird, I thought. A series of waves hit us, one after another. I stopped thinking and just held her tight, shielding her. Maya had one arm around my waist and the other gripping the raft, but her smile was getting wider and wider. We finally cleared the rapids and floated into the mid-point rest area. I didn’t realize we’d stopped. Maya was still tucked into my chest, holding on tight. Bud docked the raft, looked at us tangled together, and grinned. He gave Maya a subtle thumbs-up, which she saw, and then he quietly hopped off the raft. I looked down. Maya was just… staring up at me, her eyes soft and… warm. She was gently stroking my back. A few more seconds passed before I realized the water was calm. “Uh… I think we’re here.” I looked up and met her gaze. She was staring, unblinking. 【He’s so cute. I really want to kiss him.】 My heart skipped a beat. My face felt like it was on fire. I yelped and scrambled out of her arms. After a second, I looked back. Her face was as cold and impassive as ever. …I must have misheard that. Yeah. No way she was thinking that. We walked up to the snack bar. Remembering her phone was dead, I offered to pay. She didn’t refuse. We were lucky—we got the last two Cup Noodles. But as I paid, the last two people I wanted to see walked in. Chloe and Jason. They were here for noodles, but the shelf was empty. Chloe spotted the two cups in my hand and marched over, holding out her hand. “Give me one. Jason’s cold. He needs something hot.” Chapter 4 “You’re insane.” I just walked around her. Chloe lunged, trying to grab them. I instinctively pulled Maya behind me. Maya… smiled. She put one arm around my waist, holding me, and used her other hand to shove Chloe hard. Chloe went sprawling. Wow. She’s amazing. I gave her a thumbs-up. Her lips twitched again. She shifted slightly, blocking Chloe’s death glare. 【Leo looks impressed. I wonder if I get a reward?】 A reward? How about an extra hot dog? I silently handed her one of the noodle cups and both of the hot dogs I’d bought. 【He gave me two… is this… a hint?】 I immediately snatched one of the hot dogs back. Maya’s face fell as she looked at her empty hand, and she shot me a wounded look. Jason, red-faced, was helping Chloe up. “It’s okay, Chloe. I don’t need anything hot. Cold is fine.” I was so done. I grabbed Maya’s hand and started walking away. Maya’s mind exploded: 【AAAAH! LEO’S HOLDING MY HAND! HE INITIATED IT! I’M NEVER WASHING THIS HAND! EVER!】 I almost choked on my own spit. Lady, you are SO WEIRD. Seeing me tow Maya away, Chloe lost it. She scrambled up, pointing at my back. “Leo! If you walk away right now, you are not getting a ride home in my car!” God, I wanted to smash the Cup Noodles over her head. But… food. I paused, and she took it as a win. “This place is in the middle of nowhere! You’ll never get a signal for an Uber!” I snorted. “Fine! I don’t need your ride! I’ll go live in the woods!” I pulled Maya toward the tables. I’d only just realized how obnoxious Chloe was. Our parents were old friends, so we grew up together. They’d always pushed us toward each other, and since she was usually nice, I’ll admit I kind of had a crush on her. This trip killed that. Dead. As I was fuming, Maya’s cool voice came from behind me. “You can ride with me.” Wow. She really was a lifesaver. I spun around and grabbed her hands. “Thank you! You’re the best!” Maya coughed, pulling her hands free. Her ears were bright red. I guess the legendary ice queen… was actually pretty cute. We’d just finished our noodles when the sky opened up. A torrential downpour. A staffer ran out: “Attention! This storm’s settling in! All rafting is canceled for the day! You can hike back to the entrance or find lodging nearby!” Maya and I agreed: find a room. We dashed to the nearest guesthouse, only to be told they had one room left. We stood at the counter, completely stuck. “Look, today’s a bust. Every place on this mountain is booked,” the clerk said, eyeing us. “You two are a couple, right? Just share. If you don’t take it, someone else will.” Just then, Chloe walked down the stairs. She smirked at me. “Leo. If you apologize, I’ll consider letting you have my extra room.” I couldn’t stand her smug look. I slammed my ID on the counter. “We’ll take it. We’re sharing.”

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I had a history with Rhys Callahan. The kind that doesn’t see the light of day. He paid my way through college; I kept his bed warm. Then one day, he said he wanted to get married and start a family. So, he ended it. Years later, we met again. I was a grad student, following my professor to a pitch meeting to beg for funding. After too many glasses of wine, I clung to him, refusing to let go. “I make three grand a month now,” I slurred. “I can give you two. Will you sleep with me?” The room went silent. My colleagues tried to explain. “She’s drunk! Mr. Callahan, you just… you must look a lot like her ex-boyfriend. Her… her dead ex-boyfriend.” His face, already dark, turned black. “So,” he seethed, “you’ve been telling everyone I’m dead?” 1 Professor Davies was dragging us out to schmooze again. “Listen to me,” he stressed, “the ones who can drink, you drink. The ones who can talk, you talk. Just be smart. Be charming.” “We’re researchers, not… escorts,” Sarah, a junior in the lab, muttered. The rumor was this investor was some rough-around-the-edges, new-money guy. The kind of guy who loves a good ‘ol boys’ club dinner, which is exactly the kind of thing we academics suck at. “You think I want to do this?” Davies sighed. “The grant money’s gone. If I can’t find funding, I can’t keep the lab open. I’ll have to farm you all out to partner universities.” That shut us up. We all knew he was in a tough spot. The door opened. “Sorry I’m late, Professor.” A low, smooth voice cut through the room. The other students started whispering. “I thought you said he was some old rich guy? That man is gorgeous.” “And… intense.” I looked up, and my blood ran cold. It had been five years. Rhys Callahan had changed. The rough-edged, punk vibe was gone, replaced by a perfectly tailored suit. But the wildness in his eyes was still there, just… deeper, more controlled. More dangerous. Professor Davies shot to his feet. “Mr. Callahan! A pleasure! These are my top students.” Rhys gave a short nod, taking the seat at the head of the table. His gaze swept over us, casual, cold. Davies gave us the look. One by one, we stood up to toast him. The same women who were just complaining were now falling all over themselves. “Mr. Callahan, I’m Sarah. It’s an honor to meet you.” “Mr. Callahan, we’re so excited by the prospect of this partnership.” I huddled in the corner, trying to shrink, staring at my plate. “And this,” Professor Davies said, “is my top doctoral candidate, Maya. Maya, don’t just sit there. A toast.” I stood up, my legs shaking. I raised my glass, unable to meet his eyes. “Mr. Callahan. Hi.” He just sat there, watching me, not raising his own glass. Davies quickly jumped in. “She’s a quiet one! All work, this one. Spends all her time buried in research.” Rhys’s eyes were locked on my face, tracing every line. Finally, he spoke. “Studious. That’s a good thing.” “Exactly!” Davies said, relieved. “And Maya’s been with me since her Master’s. Her work is brilliant. This project, I’m telling you, the potential is huge. We just need the capital to…” He shot me another look. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet Rhys’s gaze. “Mr. Callahan. Our data is solid, and the market applications are… are significant. If you’d be willing to invest…” He cut me off with a dry, humorless chuckle. “Ms. …?” “She’s Maya Harris,” Davies supplied. “Ms. Harris. I’m a businessman. I only care about one thing: a fair exchange.” A fair exchange. Those words hit me like a slap. He was right. That’s all it ever was. He paid my tuition. I slept with him. And now, here I was, begging him for money again. 2 When I was eighteen, my mom remarried. I’d lost count of which husband this was. She was so hopeful, dragging me and my suitcase into the home of a man who seemed… nice. Respectable. He bought me new clothes. He gave me an allowance. He’d smile and ruffle my hair. For a second, I almost believed I had a father. Until the night he came into my room. He said if I was “good” to him, he’d give me money. He’d make sure my mom and I had a good life. I ran to my mom, crying. She slapped me. She asked me why I was dressing like that. She accused me of trying to steal her man. She called me a slut. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go home. I had almost no money. Near the school, there was a 24-hour LAN center. An all-night pass was ten bucks. The guy who ran it looked like trouble. Bleached-blonde hair, a full sleeve of tattoos. The place was full of keyboard-clacking and cigarette smoke. I stood outside for a long time before I got the nerve to go in. “All-night pass,” I whispered. He looked up. He had intense eyes under a heavy brow. He looked… mean. I started shaking. “You eighteen?” I fumbled for my ID. Thank God, I’d just had my birthday. The center had a small, private booth. One computer, one tiny, hard sofa. I’d sit there, reading my textbooks, doing homework. When I got hungry, I’d eat the half a sandwich I’d saved from lunch. When I got sleepy, I’d curl up on that sofa. It was freezing, but it was the cheapest, safest place I could find. At least there, no one tried to pull my clothes off in the middle of the night. I did this for days. Finally, one night when I slid my ID across the counter, he looked up, annoyed. “You’re a student. Why are you in here every night instead of at home?” he grumbled. “You’ll get yourself into trouble.” I just mumbled, “None of your business.” He cursed under his breath but didn’t say anything else. Until the night a couple of guys in the next booth, drunk, kicked my door open. “Well, look what we have here. All alone, sweetheart? Let’s keep you warm.” I scrambled into the corner, terrified. Rhys heard the commotion. He was there in a second. He grabbed the main guy by the collar and threw him out of the booth. He kicked him, hard. “You think you can pull that shit in my place? Huh?” He didn’t stop until the guy was begging. When he came back, he was still furious, glaring at me. “You’re not even using the computer. What the hell are you doing here?” “I… I am…” “The monitor’s been off for three hours. What are you playing at?” He was yelling now. “Get out of here! Go home! This is no place for a kid!” I wouldn’t move. After a long, tense silence, I whispered, “I don’t… I don’t have a home.” He ran his hand through his stupid hair, frustrated. He grabbed my backpack. “C’mon.” Behind the LAN center was a crappy, one-bedroom apartment. Clothes piled on the sofa, beer cans on the coffee table. He pointed. “This place. Ten bucks a day. You in or out?” I had no choice. “In.” He tossed me a key and left. 3 Rhys was barely ever there. I’d go straight from school to the apartment. I’d eat my leftover sandwich for dinner. On the fifth day, I was gnawing on a stale piece of bread when he came in. “Move over,” he said, frowning. I scooted over on the tiny sofa. He dropped a bag of takeout on the table. Barbecue. The smell of brisket filled the room. I was so hungry, I couldn’t stop staring. He glanced at me. “Want some?” I was wary. “Does it… cost extra?” He actually laughed. “Just clean up the mess.” It was the best meal I’d ever had. After that, he started coming back more often. He’d always bring food. Tacos, pizza, sometimes a hot bowl of pho. I’d devour it. “Jesus, Maya,” he’d say, watching me. “You eat like a wolf.” I was just… starving. After dinner, I’d study on the sofa. He’d play video games, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He’d stay up all night, but every so often he’d look at the clock and snap at me. “It’s midnight. Go to bed.” I’d pack up my books. “Rhys? Smoking is… it’s bad for you.” “Live fast, die young,” he’d mutter, not looking away from the screen. “And,” I added quietly, “I read online… it can make you… infertile.” He froze. “Shit,” he cursed, and stubbed out the cigarette. “Why didn’t you say so?” I slept in the bedroom. He slept on the sofa. It was way too small for him, but he’d just crash, sleeping like a rock. I never thought my life would intersect with someone like him. He was terrifying. He got into fights. Even the jocks at school were afraid of him. And here I was, the “good student,” sharing a tiny apartment with him. It was… weird. And safe. Eventually, my money ran out. “Rhys… the rent… can I pay you… after I graduate?” He raised an eyebrow. “Can you cook? Clean?” He nodded at the apartment. “Work it off.” So I did. I cleaned, I did his laundry. He even started giving me an “allowance.” For the first time in my life, I wasn’t hungry. That apartment became my sanctuary. He had friends over, guys and girls. “Damn, Rhys,” one of them said, “when did your place get so clean?” Then they saw me. “Whoa! Hiding one in here, man? If Chrissy finds out, she’s gonna lose it.” I’d seen Chrissy. Tall, hot, built. So that was his type. One day, she cornered me outside. “Who are you to Rhys?” I just stared at my feet. “Ask him.” That night, Rhys came home, staring at me. “Maya. Who am I to you?” My heart pounded. “No one.” He scoffed, and tossed a bag of walnuts on the table. “Heard these are good for your brain. You need it.” He spent the next ten minutes trying to crack them with his bare hands. “Cool, right?” he’d ask, showing me. He was such an idiot. I didn’t say that, though. “Rhys,” I asked him once, “why the blonde hair?” “It’s not blonde,” he snapped. “It’s golden.” “So… a golden retriever?” He glared. “You’re getting bold, Maya.” But I wasn’t scared anymore. His bark was worse than his bite. “Rhys,” I told him, right before exams, “I’m applying to UT. It’s across town, but I can take the bus.” He just shoved a handful of walnuts at me. “You think it’s that easy to get into UT? Eat. Your brain needs help.” 4 Before my last final, my mom showed up at school. “Maya, honey, that bastard is gone. He got into some trouble and skipped town. Come home, baby. I’ll make you dinner.” She bought me a new dress. She brushed my hair. I thought… I thought she actually missed me. Until we got to her apartment, and I saw the strange men sitting on her sofa. “Maya, this is Mr. Henderson. He owns a factory. He’s a very good man! He wants to marry you.” She was selling me. “No.” She slapped me. “Don’t you ‘no’ me! You think I don’t know about you and that thug from the LAN center? You’re already sleeping around, you might as well get paid for it! I raised you! It’s time you paid me back!” She took my ID and my phone and locked me in the bedroom. Two days later, Rhys kicked the door in. The second he held out his hand, I burst into tears. My mom screamed. “She’s my daughter! You can’t just have her for free!” Her voice was so loud the neighbors came out. I was so humiliated I couldn’t move. Rhys just looked at her, his voice cold. “How much?” “Twenty… twenty thousand dollars.” He left. He came back ten minutes later with a duffel bag and dumped it on the floor. “From now on,” he said, “Maya Harris has nothing to do with you.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of that building. I followed him, sobbing. He turned, his voice rough. “Stop crying. It’s annoying.” He drove me to my finals every day that week. He waited outside the entire time. The night after my last exam, we ate. I was so full of fear and… something else. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Rhys… you can… you can sleep in the bed tonight.” He went completely still. “What did you say?” “I can’t pay you back,” I whispered, my face buried in his back. “And… I need money for college…” The truth was, I was terrified. Finals were over. I had no reason to stay. I knew about student loans. But I was desperate. I wanted a reason to be tied to him. He paid $20,000 to buy my freedom. But it just made me his.

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1 Everyone noticed I wasn’t chasing Asher anymore. Including Asher himself. After class, he blocked my path, his face cold. “About the other night,” he said. “I’m only explaining this once. Believe it or not, it’s up to you.” “Mia was being hassled by some drunk guys. I went to help.” “I was wrong for forgetting to text you.” The “other night” was his birthday. He was in a fight for Mia, while I waited for him at the amusement park. All day. So, he thought I was just sulking about that. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” Then, under his dark, unreadable gaze, I quietly walked past him. He didn’t know that because he’d ditched me again, the system had declared my mission a failure. In one month, I would be “erased” and sent back to my real world. And this body would be given back to its original owner. 2 The third time the park employee told me they were closing, the system in my head sighed. Flora, let’s go home. Asher isn’t coming. He’s with Mia right now. He’s completely forgotten he was supposed to meet you. I stomped my aching feet, picked up the cake box, and turned to leave. “Okay.” All the excitement from that morning had been ground down to nothing. All I felt was a flat, gray calm. Even when the system announced my failure. In one month, you will be in a severe car accident. This is your punishment for failing the mission. While you are in a coma from the injuries, I will send your soul back to the real world. This body will be taken over by the original Flora. After delivering the notice, the system went silent. I pulled out my phone to call a ride-share. The battery icon was red. 1%. The screen went black. And I had no cash for a cab. I finally gave in and started the long walk home. I’d always known failure was a possibility. But in that moment, an overwhelming exhaustion flooded my body, making every step feel impossibly heavy. 3 The walk home took me past the school. It was a Saturday night. The campus should have been empty. But on a bench just outside the gates, I saw two familiar figures. Mia was holding a Hostess Cupcake with a single, unlit match stuck in the frosting. “I’m sorry, Asher…” she was saying, her voice soft. “I only just found out today was your birthday. I didn’t have time to get a cake… I hope you don’t mind this.” The boy across from her had fresh cuts on his cheekbone. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead, mostly hidden by his messy bangs, giving him a lazy, restless look. He didn’t seem to think the cupcake was ridiculous at all. He even took out a Zippo and lit the match. “I don’t.” His voice was as cool as ever. “I think it’s great.” But I could hear a trace of warmth in it. An attempt to soothe her. I couldn’t help but remember last night. I was in the school’s home-ec room, showing him the birthday cake I’d finally perfected after three failed attempts. “What do you think? Is it good?” He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes flicked to my hand, which was red and blistering from a burn. His voice was laced with annoyance. “Looking at your hand is enough to make me lose my appetite.” I flushed, trying to hide my hand in my hoodie sleeve. He looked tired. He walked over, grabbed my wrist, and started dragging me to the pharmacy. “What are you hiding it for?” he snapped. “Don’t you have a brain? You burn yourself, you use medicine.” He looked furious, but his hands were incredibly gentle as he applied the burn cream. I’d worked up my courage again. “Asher… do you like the cake, though?” He stared at the blister, his brow furrowed. “It’s ugly as hell.” At the time, the system had comforted me: Don’t listen to him! He’s just mad you got hurt making it. He’s just being difficult. He’s worried about you! My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stood across the street, watching Asher gently reassure Mia that her last-minute cupcake was fine. It hit me, all at once. Even someone as difficult and angsty as Asher… when he actually likes someone, he can be gentle. He can pull in his thorns. He can be careful with her feelings, so she doesn’t feel small. I didn’t know what Asher felt for me. But I knew, with certainty, that it wasn’t love. 4 I turned to leave. “Flora?” Mia spotted me. “What are you doing here?” Asher’s head whipped around. His eyes landed on the cake box in my hand, and he froze. He’d just remembered. Mia saw the cake, too. “Oh! You were looking for Asher, weren’t you?” “I heard you were supposed to celebrate at the amusement park today.” “I’m so sorry, Flora. He had to ditch you because of me.” Her apology was lazy, almost automatic. Like she was already used to Asher dropping everything for her, and she knew I wouldn’t—couldn’t—do anything about it. I’d just sulk for a day, then go right back to chasing him. I shook my head, denying her first question. “I was just passing by.” Asher stared at me, his expression unreadable. Mia just smiled, clearly assuming I was making a pathetic excuse to save face. “Well,” she said, “since you brought the cake anyway, we can celebrate now!” She reached for the box. I stepped back, moving it out of her reach. “It’s spoiled,” I said. “You can’t eat it.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s… it’s getting late. I’m going home.” “Bye.” Mia looked genuinely surprised. Usually, I’d use any excuse to stick to Asher’s side. Now, I was willingly leaving them alone. I walked a few steps, then remembered. I turned back, embarrassed. “Mia? Can I borrow twenty bucks? My phone’s dead, and I can’t get a cab.” “I’ll take you.” Asher spoke the instant I finished, his voice fast and tight. I acted like I hadn’t heard him. Mia fumbled in her purse. “Oh! Uh, sure…” She handed me a bill. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back on Monday.” I took the money and left. From start to finish, I never looked at Asher once. 5 Maybe because I knew I was going home soon, I dreamed of my old life. I was in a massive college lecture hall, reading a novel and sobbing. My friend passed me a tissue. “I thought you said that was a romance?” “It is,” I hiccupped. “But not for the second male lead, Asher. His life is just… tragic.” “He’s been in love with the main girl, Mia, since high school. But he’s poor and has all this baggage, so he never tells her. He just… protects her from the shadows, even after he becomes this huge CEO.” “And the worst part! He spends all of high school being bullied by the villainess, this rich, evil bitch named Flora!” My friend checked the cover. “Her name’s Flora, your name’s Laura. Kinda close.” I slammed the book down. “Don’t remind me. It’s humiliating.” That night, I woke up in the book. As Flora. The system’s directive was simple: Win Asher’s heart. In this timeline, I was the person he hated most. Difficulty: SSS-level. The system sounded bored as it looked at me, practically vibrating with excitement. This is a hell-mode mission. Why are you so happy? “Because I can change it! I can fix his awful teenage years!” I was so happy I was bouncing. “I’m going to give him everything. He’ll never have to suffer again!” The system had no faith in me. It said it was just counting down the days until it had to send me back. I spent two years trying to break down his walls. I chipped away at his hatred. His “affection” meter got so high that even the system thought I might actually win. But I still failed. In the end, I couldn’t even blame Asher. He was written to love Mia. It was his entire character. Putting her first was his default. It’s a simple truth I only managed to understand once I finally stopped loving him. 6 I’d been out in the wind all night. I woke up the next morning, unsurprisingly, with a nasty cold. After taking some medicine, I got a call from one of Asher’s friends. “Flora! Hey, Asher’s doing a re-do for his birthday today.” “At the amusement park, the one you guys were supposed to go to. You coming?” Asher never cared about birthdays. I knew what this was. It was a peace offering for standing me up. My voice was thick with congestion. “You guys have fun. I’m… I’m going to the library.” The guy’s voice got muffled. “Ash! Flora said she’s not coming.” A few seconds of silence, then I heard Asher’s short, sharp laugh. It was full of scorn. “Whatever. Let her.” I wasn’t surprised. That was the most I could expect from him. It was, for Asher, a major concession. I coughed, a dry, racking sound. The friend was back on the phone. “Whoa, Flora, you sound sick.” “Okay, you know what? Never mind. You just rest up.” Right before he hung up, I heard him ask, “Hey, where’d Ash go?” Someone else answered, “Looked like he was heading to the pharmacy.” “Why? His face is fine, he just changed the bandages…” “Dunno.” 7 I went to the library with Ryan. Ryan. The real Flora’s childhood best friend. And the only person in this world who knew I was a “transmigrator.” He’d figured me out a few weeks after I arrived. He’d just stared at me, his eyes narrowed. “Stop lying,” he’d scoffed. “You can’t fool me. I know Flora better than anyone.” After I told him the truth, he was stunned… for about five minutes. Then he just accepted it. Maybe because I looked like his friend. He’d been good to me these last two years. One of my only real friends here. On the way to the library, I told him the mission had failed. “So, that’s it? You’re leaving in a month?” “Yep. The real Flora gets her body back soon. You’ll have your best friend back.” Ryan’s messenger bag bumped against his back as he walked. He gave a short laugh but didn’t say anything. His eyes looked empty. 8 We stayed until the library closed. Ryan’s house was right next to mine. When we got to his gate, I stopped to say goodnight. But Ryan was just… staring. Motionless. I followed his gaze. To my front porch. Asher was standing there, his black windbreaker making his pale face look even colder. The cuts on his cheek and jaw made him look feral. He was holding a small paper bag from a pharmacy. I turned back to Ryan. “Well, you’re home. I’ll see you tomorrow. ‘Night.” He knew I didn’t want him involved. He just nodded. “Text me if you need anything.” I heard his front door click shut. Asher’s gaze shifted to me as I walked up the path. “Do you need something?” I asked. He ignored me. “You’re sick?” he demanded. “You were laughing with him just fine. You looked pretty healthy to me.” As if on cue, my throat itched. I broke into a fit of coughing. The scorn in his eyes faded. I sniffled. “If that’s all, I’m going inside.” He moved, blocking the door. A wave of cold radiated off him. He must have been standing out here for hours. “You’re sick. What the hell are you doing running around with him?” He shoved the pharmacy bag at me. “And about the other night,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’m only explaining this once. Believe it or not, it’s up to you.” He wasn’t good at apologies. It came out stiff. “Mia was being hassled by some drunk guys. I went to help.” “But I forgot to text you. I made you wait. That was my fault.” I’d never, ever heard him clarify or apologize for anything. I was… shocked. But that’s all. The old fluttery feeling was gone. I pushed the bag back at him. “Thanks, but I can’t take this. I can buy my own medicine.” I looked up at him. “And I accept your apology.” “Is there anything else? I’m really tired.” Asher’s jaw tightened. He just stared at me. He was searching my face, silently asking, What is wrong with you? When he didn’t say anything, I took it as a ‘no.’ “Bye, then.” I sidestepped him and went inside. From my bedroom window, I looked down. He stood frozen on the sidewalk for a long time. Then, as if he finally understood, he let out a bitter laugh. He tossed the bag of medicine into the neighbor’s trash can and walked away. I think he finally got it. I wasn’t sulking. I was done.

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1 The day I got married, Julian bombed the hotel to stop the wedding. He pulled me from the rubble with his bare hands. Seeing the amnesia in my eyes, he hid his wild joy and told me, his voice shaking, that he was the one I loved. For five years, Julian treated me like I was his entire world. And then, he got bored. He expertly slipped off his wedding ring and gently cupped his assistant’s pregnant stomach. “Give me this child, and I’ll give you my life,” he whispered. “But the old rule stands. You don’t ever let Eve find out.” He didn’t know his “little girl” secretly recorded the whole thing. She sent it to me with a taunt: Time to step aside, old woman. He really didn’t know that the video had triggered my memory. And before Julian, my true love was a man named Griffin. Griffin was beautiful, but he was a possessive, vengeful psycho. And I was just like him. Julian was finished. … Julian was meticulous about hiding his little fling. Unfortunately for him, the fling had an ambition that matched her nerve. The girl, Summer, showed up at my house, pregnant and proud. “Eve. I’m having twins. The doctor said they’re both boys.” “Their daddy feels so bad for me, he rubs my feet every night. He has to wait until I’m asleep before he goes home to his… wife.” “He said he just can’t wait to meet them!” I smiled, a chill moving behind my eyes. “Did your ‘daddy’ ever tell you what kind of person I am?” If Julian was that eager to meet his kids, I should probably help him out. Thirty minutes later, a rush-order medical courier was dispatched to Julian’s office. I sipped my tea and watched the live feed from his office security cam. When he first saw the box, his stern face melted. He thought it was from me. The second he opened it, his face turned to stone. Inside was a clinical report for an emergency D&C. And the… results. An hour later, Julian was home. Summer was on a lounger I’d had set up, sobbing the moment he walked in. “Julian! She killed our babies! The babies you wanted so much! You have to kill her! Kill that bitch!” A flicker of real pain crossed Julian’s face. He grabbed my wrist, his voice tight, trying to control a rage I’d never heard. “Eve. She’s just a kid. A recent graduate. How could you be so cruel?” It was the first time in five years he’d ever raised his voice to me. For another woman. I tossed my phone onto the table. The screen lit up with the videos. Julian cooing at Summer. Summer insulting me. Summer demanding he leave me. “Your ‘kid’ sent me those to provoke me. As your wife, I was… hurt. Don’t I get to retaliate?” Julian froze. He shot Summer a look so cold it should have frozen her blood. Then, he knelt in front of me, his expression softening, taking my hand. “Eve, baby, you misunderstood.” “I… I just didn’t want you to go through the pain of childbirth. I was going to let her carry them, and then we would raise them. You and me.” “I swear on my life, you are the only one I have ever loved.” I believed him. When we’d first discussed kids, he’d signed up for one of those labor-pain simulators. It was the first and only time I’d ever seen Julian cry. He’d held me so tight afterward. “Eve, how can it hurt that much? We’re not having kids. I won’t let you go through that.” So, because he couldn’t bear to see me suffer… he let another woman carry his twins? I glanced over at Summer. Her eyes were wide, red, and full of disbelief. I laughed. “Wow, Julian. You’re the cruelest one of all. You just stabbed us both with one sentence.” “So. What now?” I asked. “The last time someone made me this upset, you ruined their family and had them run out of the city.” His gaze passed over Summer, cold and indifferent. But I saw his hand tremble. He was quiet for a long time. “Eve,” he said. “I’m apologizing… for her.” “What will it take for you to forgive me, so I can get her out of here?” A wave of fury washed over me. All those pretty words, all that cold acting… and he was still protecting her. I swept a row of expensive vases off the mantle. They shattered. Julian didn’t hesitate. He kicked off his own shoes. He walked across the broken porcelain, his feet bleeding, and lifted Summer into his arms. He carried her out, leaving a trail of bloody footprints. He’s a psycho, but he’s a pragmatist. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s only ever been hurt for me. My gaze turned to ice. He didn’t know I had my memory back. He didn’t know that… god help me… I might have actually been falling for him. There were moments I’d thought… maybe I’d just stay lost with him. But now… A rotten man and the woman who stole him. I would make them both pay. … After that, Julian sent gifts daily. But he spent every night at Summer’s. Tonight’s excuse: a “last-minute business dinner.” The second he hung up, a message from Summer came through. “Haha, you must regret it now, old woman. So what if you killed my babies? He just feels worse for me. He’s at my place right now, cooking me dinner.” The video showed Julian, in an apron, moving around a kitchen. He never cooked… until he met me. He’d learned from five-star chefs for me. And now he was making my favorite dishes for her. I could almost smell the food. I felt sick. He’d ruined my favorite meals. That bastard. Summer’s voice was full of malice. “He also said he’s going to give me another baby tonight. And you…” “You’re finished, Eve.” The message ended. At the same second, something smashed against my car window. I looked up. A dozen men with bats and neck tattoos were surrounding my car. “You’re the one who messed with our girl Summer?” I smiled and calmly dialed Julian. As always, he picked up on the first ring. “Julian. Summer’s wannabe gangster ‘brothers’ have me surrounded.” His voice on the other end was… tired. “Eve, come on. Don’t do this. She’s just a college kid, she doesn’t know…” I smiled. “I’m not going to fight back. Come or don’t. Up to you.” I hung up. The night air was cool. I just watched the traffic light, counting. It hadn’t even cycled three times before he appeared. He’d hit traffic and just abandoned his car, running the last six blocks. He was bent over, panting, his chest heaving. I smiled a little. I had, of course, lied. The “thugs” were all on the ground, groaning. Julian stared at the mess, then at me. His jaw was clenched. Then his eyes found the small scratch on my leg. His anger just… deflated. He knelt in front of me, his touch impossibly gentle, and started cleaning the cut. “You just… you just do this because you know I love you,” he muttered, half-angry, half-devastated. That… almost got me. I almost felt the need to explain. “I didn’t stage this,” I said. “Summer really did call them.” Julian didn’t even look up. “I asked her. She swore she didn’t. She’s… she’s a very simple, honest girl, Eve. She’s not like…” He stopped. But I heard it. Not like you. You’re a calculating, vicious bitch. My face went blank. I pulled out my phone and called my lawyer, right in front of him. “Yes, I need divorce papers drawn up. I’ll be there in twenty to sign.” I shoved him out of the passenger seat and started the car. He just… stood in front of the car. The wind blew his hair back. His eyes were wild. “You want a divorce, Eve?” he bit out. “You’ll have to drive through me to get it.” The headlights lit up his insane expression. I looked him dead in the eye. And I hit the gas. The screech of tires was deafening. I stopped, the bumper inches from his knees. He hadn’t moved. He just stared at me, a hot, crazy look in his eyes. “You psycho!” I hissed. I slammed the car in reverse and sped away. … A few days later, a new message from Summer. This time… she was apologetic. “Eve, I’m so sorry. I know what I did was wrong. Please, can you just give me a chance to make it right?” She sent an address. A rose garden. She wanted to apologize in person. I went. It was a massive estate. Summer was waiting by the gate, wearing a white dress, smiling. She used a key to let us in. And I froze. In the center of the garden was a giant, framed photo. It was her and Julian, tangled together, kissing in the roses. It was dated… five years ago. Before my amnesia. Summer’s voice was light and airy. “Oh, Eve. I’ve known about you for ages. I even helped Julian figure out how to win you over.” She’d known Julian long before I did. He’d sponsored her, helped her get out of her small town. She’d lived in his house. The entire manor was a shrine to them. My hands were numb. She giggled, pointing at my wedding ring. “Every gift he ever gave you? I helped him pick it out. Even that ring. It was my favorite design. He bought it for you, but he picked it with me.” (She was lying. He’d given me twenty designs, and I’d chosen that one. But the fact that she’d been involved at all… it made me sick.) I slowly pulled the ring off my finger and tossed it into the rose bushes. Summer’s smile widened. “He loved you so much. I was so jealous.” “But, people get bored. So I just… waited. I told him I’d be here. I told him I didn’t need anything, just… whatever scraps of love you didn’t want.” “And guess what?” She laughed, a high, giddy sound. “He slept with me!” “You were the one he chased, but now you’re just… old news. He’s tired of you, Eve.” “So, do us all a favor. Get out.” I stared at her. Then I smiled. “You’re this much of a bitch? Oh, good.” She frowned. “What?” “It means,” I said, “that I don’t have to feel guilty.” I kicked over a rack of priceless, vintage wine. Then I took out a lighter. The small flame reflected in her terrified eyes. The manor went up in flames. Julian arrived, fast. He saw the fire, saw me, and saw Summer. Summer started screaming. “Julian, help me! The fire! Oh god, my babies! I just lost your babies because of her!” I just watched him. And I mouthed one word. “Choose.” The fire lit up the agony on his face. He soaked himself with a garden hose… and ran toward her. As he ran, he yelled over his shoulder, “Eve! I know you! You can get yourself out of this! Summer can’t!” He scooped Summer into his arms. Through the flames, she looked back at me and smiled in triumph. I just smiled back. And I didn’t move. The fire grew. Julian, holding Summer, saw me. He hesitated. He looked at her, then at me. He cursed, dropped Summer on the lawn, and ran back into the inferno for me. He threw his wet jacket over my head and dragged me out. I was almost… disappointed. If he’d left me, the divorce would have been so clean. Only after I was safe did he go back for Summer. By then, a beam had fallen. It had crushed her leg. When he carried her out, she was hysterical. I knew he was angry. As he passed me, he shoved my shoulder, hard. “Guards,” he snapped. “Take my wife. We’re all going to the hospital.” … Summer’s leg was in a cast. “Julian,” she whimpered, “don’t be mad. It’s not Eve’s fault… and you didn’t save me first, but it’s okay, I’m just…” She was the perfect victim. Julian looked at her, his face full of guilt and adoration. He kissed her, right in front of me. Then he turned to me, his face hard. “Eve. You trespassed. You committed arson. You injured her. Apologize.” I smiled. “No.” Summer, of course, jumped in. “Julian, no, don’t! Don’t fight because of me!” She suddenly glanced at me, a flash of victory in her eyes, and did something on her phone. A second later, the doors to the room burst open. Reporters. Cameras. Microphones. “Mrs. Callahan! Is it true you’re so jealous you attack any woman who works for your husband?” “Did you set the fire that injured Ms. Summer?” Julian panicked. He had spent five years—and a fortune—burying my identity. Hiding me. Creating false trails to send him on a wild goose chase around the world. He’d kept my face out of every paper, every website. He started toward me, to shield me. But Summer let out a pained cry. “Ow… Julian, my leg… I think I’m bleeding…” “It’s… it’s okay,” she sobbed. “Go. Go to your wife. I can… I can crawl to a doctor. You’re used to leaving me for her anyway…” Julian froze. He looked at me, through the chaos of the cameras. “You did this, didn’t you?” he hissed. “You called them.” “I’m not falling for it this time, Eve.” “She’s right. I’ve let you get away with too much.” He turned his back on me. He scooped Summer up. “I’m sorry, Summer. I will never let her hurt you again.” Over his shoulder, Summer gave me one last, triumphant smirk. She’d won. I leaned against the wall, almost laughing. Five years. He’d moved heaven and earth to keep me hidden. And one little assistant was all it took to make him give up. The door slammed shut. I turned to the cameras. I smiled. And I pushed my hair back, giving them a clear, perfect shot of my face. I knew he’d be watching. I knew, somewhere, he’d see this. And now, he would finally know where to find me. Griffin.

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