1 At the arcade, I stepped back to buy tokens, glancing at my phone. When I looked up, Logan and Natalie were gone. Balancing two water bottles and their jackets, I pushed through the crowd. I stopped before a nearby photo booth. The curtain hung slightly open. As the flash popped, I saw them clearly. Logan wore pink bunny ears, leaning into Natalie as they shaped a heart with their hands. They looked like stars in a teen romance film. Five minutes earlier, I’d offered him those same ears. He’d brushed me off, annoyed. Childish, he’d said. Only idiots wear that stuff. It wasn’t the headband he hated. It was me. I didn’t open the curtain. I left their things on a trash can. Over the loudspeakers, a bright pop song played as I turned and walked toward the exit. I was done playing the background character. The sun hadn’t fully set by the time I walked out of the amusement park gates. The colorful lights along the entrance flickered on one by one, illuminating the laughing faces of the people streaming inside. I was the only one moving in the opposite direction, wading against the tide of the crowd. My hands were empty now. My chest felt just as hollow, as if someone had carved a piece right out of me. Instead of calling a cab, I took the slowest bus home. The vehicle swayed and rattled violently over the asphalt. Leaning my head against the cool window pane, I watched my own reflection in the glass. My eyes were bloodshot. But I didn’t cry. I only remembered the way I had held out those bunny ears to Logan in front of the claw machines. I had smiled, begging him, Just wear them for a second, please? Just once. He hadn’t even spared them a glance, turning his face away instantly. Grow up, Autumn. Why do you always care so much about these pointless things? Yet only minutes later, he had lowered his head, letting Natalie slip the exact same headband over his hair. It wasn’t the headband that was pointless. It was me. During our high school homecoming festival, I had bought an absurdly oversized headband too. The school field had been packed with people that day. I had chased him all over the grass, waving the silly accessory in the air. Even though he complained about how embarrassing it was, he still bent down, letting me adjust it on his head. When our classmates started teasing him, he simply tapped my forehead with his knuckles. Don’t buy something this ugly next time. But he kept it on until the festival ended. I had truly believed that was love. Now I understood that even the sweetest indulgence could expire. People changed. When I unlocked the front door of my house, the warm scent of pot roast drifted from the kitchen. My mother peeked out from the doorway, a bright smile on her face. “You’re back? Where’s Logan?” My hands paused as I kicked off my shoes. Tonight was supposed to be the first time Logan formally came over to have dinner with my parents. I had told him about it three days in advance, and my father had even canceled his evening business meeting just to be home. But now, the dining table sat quiet. I looked down, carefully aligning my shoes side by side. “He probably has some things to take care of. He’ll be late.” My mother’s smile softened, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “What’s wrong? Did you two have a fight?” I shook my head, telling her it was nothing. Truthfully, I didn’t even know if this counted as a fight. I was just suddenly so exhausted that even anger felt like an unnecessary luxury. We waited until nine in the evening. The food on the table was reheated, and then it went cold again. My father glanced toward the front door several times, but in the end, he didn’t say a word. When the doorbell finally rang, my mother visibly let out a breath of relief. Logan stood on the porch, the chill of the night wind clinging to his jacket. As soon as he stepped inside, he reached out and touched my forehead. “Why are you so pale?” The gesture was so natural, so practiced. A sharp ache flared in my chest, and I almost let myself be fooled by the familiar warmth of his touch. But in the next second, he pulled a small box of bandages from his pocket, his brows drawing together. “Next time you decide to run off, at least say something. Natalie was wearing high heels and walked all over the place trying to find you. Her heels are completely raw.” He tossed the box onto the console table. “I bought an extra pack of these. If your feet are blistered too, go ahead and use them.” I stared at the little cardboard box, unable to squeeze out a single word. He had finally remembered that I might be hurting too, but only as an afterthought, a spare item he grabbed while buying medicine for Natalie. At the dinner table, Logan was perfectly polite. He spoke respectfully to my parents, proactively ladled the soup, and answered my father’s questions about college schedules with poise. But his phone never left the table, resting right beside his hand. When the screen lit up, I caught a glimpse of Natalie’s name. It still hurts a bit, her text read. Am I being too dramatic? Logan set his fork down. I already knew what he was going to do before he even moved. Sure enough, he stood up and reached for his coat. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I’m really sorry, but I have to run.” My mother blinked, startled. “But you haven’t even finished your dinner.” He gave a low, apologetic explanation. “Natalie is home by herself, and she doesn’t know how to clean the wound properly.” I finally spoke up, my voice remarkably quiet. “She just scraped her heel. Do you really have to go?” Logan paused and looked back at me. In those eyes, eyes I had adored for so many years, there was only weariness and a flash of deep irritation. “Autumn, can you stop making everyone clean up after your tantrums?” In that moment, the entire world seemed to fall dead silent. It was so quiet that I could hear the kitchen sink faucet dripping, a single, rhythmic drop splashing against the metal. After he left, my mother stood by the table, staring at the empty seat for a long time without saying a word. My father quietly picked up his chopsticks, placed a piece of pot roast into my bowl, and spoke softly. “Let’s eat.” Looking at the food in my bowl, a sudden, hot sting rushed to my eyes. I had loved Logan for a very long time, so long that even my parents had spent years tip-toeing around us, trying their best to protect my feelings. But today, I finally realized that he could easily make time to eat with my family, and just as easily abandon us all for a single text from Natalie. I stared at the box of bandages sitting on the entryway table. It felt as though I had finally figured out exactly where I stood in his life. I barely slept that night. As soon as the first light of dawn broke through the curtains, I sat down at my desk. Stack after stack of college prep materials sat piled on the wooden surface: mock exams, mistake journals, half-finished study guides. For the past few months, every ounce of my energy had been poured into these pages. I had wanted to take a gap year to study and retake my entrance exams, not because I was passionate about any particular school, but because I wanted to get closer to Logan. I didn’t want to be the one left behind. But looking at these papers now, for the first time, a profound sense of emptiness washed over me. I couldn’t tell if I was trying to move forward for my own sake, or if I was desperately chasing someone who had never once planned to slow down and wait for me. At breakfast, my mother pushed a bowl of warm oatmeal toward me. Watching the steam rise into the air, I spoke quietly. “Mom, I’m not doing the prep year.” My mother’s spoon froze in her hand. My father looked up from his paper. They both knew how long I had prepared for this. They also knew that on the day high school graduation results came out, I hadn’t cried because of my scores. I had cried because Logan was already set to go to Boston, while my grades had kept me far, far away. My mother asked tentatively, “Is it too exhausting? Do you want to sleep on it?” My father remained quiet for a long moment before asking, “Have you really thought this through, or are you just upset right now?” I stared down at the oatmeal, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s not that I don’t want to work hard. I just realized that this path was never really mine to begin with.” The moment the words left my mouth, my eyes welled up. During our junior year, after our first major mock exam, I had scored terribly in math. After evening study hall, I had hidden beneath the concrete bleachers on the dark sports field, crying my eyes out. Logan had found me there, carrying a stack of scrap paper. He squatted down on the steps beside me, breaking down every single problem, explaining them patiently until the streetlights flickered on. Before we left, he had squeezed my hand. Hang in there, Autumn. I’ll wait for you in Boston. I had treated those words like a North Star. I believed that as long as he was waiting ahead, I could eventually catch up if I ran fast enough. But now I saw the truth. He had never actually stopped walking. He had simply stood far ahead, looking back to toss me a comforting phrase, while I ran myself ragged for years trying to reach him. At noon, I went back to the high school to return my prep course enrollment materials. Just as I reached the stairwell, Natalie came running up behind me, clutching a thick bundle of study guides, sweat beaded on her forehead. “Autumn, perfect timing!” She smiled, catching her breath. “Logan and I stayed up last night highlighting the key sections for you. See if these help.” I froze. Before I could say anything, she leaned in and lowered her voice with a little laugh. “He told me you’d still be throwing a fit today. I actually bet him a coffee that you wouldn’t last past lunch before talking to him again.” My ears started to ring. So my heartbreak was nothing more than a casual wager between them. While I was drowning in misery after walking away, they were sitting together, laughing and guessing how long it would take for me to crawl back. Logan descended the stairs behind her. Seeing me, his eyes fell on the notes in Natalie’s arms. His tone was perfectly flat, as if nothing had happened. “Natalie stayed up incredibly late working on those for you. Don’t go throwing someone’s kindness back in their face.” I looked up into his eyes. The last embers of warmth in my heart died out, leaving only cold ash. “Logan,” I said, my voice shockingly steady. “Let’s break up.” He stiffened. But the brief flash of surprise on his face vanished almost instantly, replaced by that familiar, condescending certainty. “Autumn, figure out what you want to do with your own life before you start making threats. Stop using breakups as a tool just to show everyone you’re throwing a tantrum.” Listening to him, the final thread of hope I held for him snapped. I didn’t repeat myself. I walked past them, pushing through the double doors of the academic counselor’s office. The counselor looked up, surprised to see me. “I thought you were enrolling in the exam prep classes?” I handed over my paperwork. “I’m not doing the prep year. I want to finalize my admission to Austin State.” The counselor flipped through the forms. “Austin is halfway across the country. Are you absolutely sure?” I nodded. As my pen touched the confirmation line, my hand trembled slightly. But I didn’t stop. The moment my signature was finished, a sudden weight lifted from my chest. It felt as though I had finally set down a heavy pack I had been carrying for far too long. After that day, Logan didn’t contact me again. He seemed utterly convinced that I would regret my decision, so he didn’t even bother to ask why. Natalie, however, was still active in our group chat. She sent photos of the study guides she had organized, along with pictures of the spreadsheets she had stayed up making. Autumn, I’ve got everything ready for you. Whenever you change your mind, just let me know and I’ll drop them off. I stared at the name of our group chat. I had created it when we graduated from middle school, naming it Inseparable. Back then, I truly believed the three of us would walk through life side-by-side forever. Logan would explain the difficult problems, Natalie would keep the mood bright, and as long as I followed them, I would never be left behind. Now I saw that the person who got left behind didn’t have to wander off. All it took was for the other two to take one step forward together, leaving me standing outside their circle. I typed back a brief message: No need. I was about to add that I was no longer doing the prep year, but Logan’s message cut in first. She works a part-time job during the day and stays up late organizing notes for you at night. And all you have to say is ‘no need’? Do you even have a heart, Autumn? I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering in the air. A second later, a system notification popped up. You have been removed from the group chat. Looking at those words, I didn’t even feel surprised. But somewhere deep inside, another small piece of my world quietly crumbled away. I cleared the chat history, changed into my uniform, and headed to the bookstore where I worked. I had taken this summer job to save up money for prep class materials. Even though I didn’t need the money for that anymore, I still wanted to finish my shifts for the month. At least when I was busy, my mind wouldn’t drift back to Logan. It was nearly ten at night when the store closed. After checking the locks, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked toward the bus stop. The alleyway was bustling during the day, but at night, it grew so quiet that the only sound was the low hum of the streetlights. Halfway down, I heard footsteps behind me. A cold shiver crept up my spine. I quickened my pace, preparing to run, but my bag strap was suddenly snagged from behind. I was yanked backward, my shoulder slamming hard against the brick wall. The thick, sour stench of alcohol hit me instantly. Fear seized my throat, my voice cracking. “Let go of me!” A hand reached out to smother my scream. In the middle of the struggle, someone rushed out from the shadows. A heavy canvas bag swung through the air, crashing hard against the man’s shoulder. “Autumn, run!” It was Natalie. Her face was white as a sheet, her hands shaking, but she stood firmly between me and the man. The man swore loudly, shoving her away with brute force. Natalie lost her footing on the slick asphalt. As she fell, her right hand landed directly on a pile of broken glass. Blood pooled onto the pavement almost instantly. My mind went completely blank. I dropped to my knees, practically crawling over to support her. My fingers shook so violently that I couldn’t even hold my phone straight, dialling the emergency number twice before it finally went through. By the time we reached the hospital, I was still in a daze. But Logan had already arrived. He must have run the entire way, his chest heaving as he burst through the doors. Seeing Natalie’s hand wrapped in bloody gauze, all the color drained from his face. He kept pace with her stretcher as they wheeled her into the emergency room, never once looking in my direction. It was only when the doctor mentioned that she would need stitches, and that she shouldn’t use her hand for a while—which would undoubtedly affect her art portfolio showcase next week—that Logan finally whipped his head around to look at me. His gaze was so icy that it stole the breath right out of my lungs. “Are you happy now?” I froze, a loud ringing filling my ears. He took two steps closer to me. “If you hadn’t been throwing this ridiculous tantrum, why would Natalie have been following you in the dark? If she wasn’t trying to help you, would her hand be in this condition?” I stared at him, my lips parting, but I couldn’t form a single word. I had been terrified too. I had almost been assaulted. But he hadn’t asked if I was okay. He only saw that Natalie had been hurt because of me, and he had already decided that I was the one who deserved the blame. During our freshman year, a group of older boys had cornered me in an alley behind the school. Logan had pulled me behind his back, his expression deadly cold as he warned them to back off. When he walked me home that evening, he had draped his school blazer over my head. Don’t worry. Next time you have to walk home in the dark, call me first. I had cherished that promise for years. But now, when real danger had actually found me, he stood before me and only wanted to know why I was dragging others down with me. I looked down at the dark bruises forming on my wrists. Suddenly, I didn’t even have the strength to defend myself. By the next morning, the news had already spread through school. At first, people simply asked me what had happened in the alley. But as the day went on, the rumors twisted into something unrecognizable. Some said I was fooling around with a stranger in the dark. Some said Natalie had nearly ruined her portfolio showcase just to save me from my own mess. Others claimed that I had been emotionally unstable since the breakup, which was why I had caused such a scene. I tried to explain the truth. But everyone I spoke to looked at me with pitying, skeptical eyes. The more I tried to clear my name, the more guilt-ridden I appeared to them. Before noon, my homeroom teacher called me into her office. She poured me a cup of warm water, her voice incredibly gentle. “Autumn, I know you went through a terrible scare last night. But Natalie’s portfolio showcase is next week, and the school is counting on her results.” I kept my eyes glued to the paper cup. The steam rose in lazy spirals, blurring the worksheets on her desk. She continued, “For the next few days, please don’t make any public statements about the rumors. Let’s wait until her showcase is over before we clear everything up.” “And what about the things people are saying about me right now?” I asked. The office fell quiet. She sighed softly. “Summer will be over soon, Autumn. People forget things quickly.” A bitter laugh threatened to bubble up in my throat. Because I was the one taking the damage, I could afford to wait. Because Natalie was the one who needed protection, not a single risk could be taken on her behalf. After leaving the office, I went to the hospital. Natalie was leaning against the pillows, her hand wrapped in a thick layer of white gauze. Her eyes welled with tears the moment she saw me. “Autumn, I’m so sorry.” I stood by the doorway, refusing to take another step into the room. Her voice was barely audible. “I didn’t know the rumors would get this bad. My mom and the teachers said we can’t afford any distractions right now. I promise I’ll explain everything the moment my showcase is finished.” “And what about the meantime?” I asked. She lowered her head, looking at her lap. “Can you just bear with it for a little while? Please?” I looked at her, suddenly unable to tell if her tears were from genuine guilt, or if she was simply terrified that my reputation might drag down her golden future. Just then, Logan pushed the door open. Almost instinctively, he stepped in front of Natalie’s bed, shielding her in a quiet, natural gesture of protection. It was a subtle movement, but to me, it was sharper than any spoken word of favoritism. He looked at me, his tone almost calm. “Autumn, let’s leave things as they are for now. Natalie has her showcase next week, and the school can’t have any negative press. Don’t rush to make excuses. Once she’s done, I’ll help you explain.” “And what about me?” I asked quietly. He went quiet for a few seconds. “You’ve always been the strong one, Autumn.” When those words landed, the last of my feelings went entirely numb. It didn’t hurt anymore. I didn’t want to cry. It was as if some vital thread inside me had finally snapped clean in two. When I returned home, the prep books were still spread across my desk. I closed them, one by one. The mistake journals filled with my handwriting, the study schedules, the reference books Logan had lent me over the years—I packed every single item into a cardboard box. In the end, the only things I left out were my ID card and my admission letter to Austin State. My mother stood beside me, helping me fold my clothes. Halfway through, her hands stopped. “Are you really not going to look back?” I pulled the zipper of my suitcase shut. “No.” The next morning, my father drove me to the airport. During the entire ride, he didn’t mention Logan once. It was only when we reached the curb and he lifted my bags out of the trunk that he looked at me, his eyes filled with quiet concern. “Call us the moment you land.” I nodded. My mother pulled me into a tight embrace. She didn’t say a word, but I could feel her shoulders trembling slightly against mine. As I walked into the terminal, my phone began to vibrate incessantly in my pocket. Logan’s name flashed on the screen, call after call. I didn’t answer. Then came the flood of texts. Where are you? Autumn, come back. Let’s talk. Don’t just disappear on me again. Looking at that last line, a faint smile touched my lips. Even now, he still thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He still believed that once I was done crying in some dark corner, I would quietly crawl back to him on my own. As the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal, I deleted his text thread. Waiting in the boarding line, my mind drifted back to the afternoon of our high school graduation. He had carried my backpack for me, standing by the school gates. The warm summer sunlight had painted his shoulders in gold. See you in Boston next year, he had said. I had nodded so hard my neck hurt, truly believing that was our future. But now, I pulled my carry-on forward. I wasn’t heading to Boston. And I certainly wasn’t heading to him. The gate agent took my boarding pass with a warm smile. “Have a safe flight.” “Thank you,” I murmured. Right before I stepped onto the jet bridge, my phone buzzed one last time. It was a message from my mother. Logan just came to the house. He saw the box of prep books you left behind. He asked me if you really didn’t want any of those books anymore. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then shut it off. I stepped into the cabin. This time, I didn’t look back.

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I was famous for being the ultimate good girl in our city’s elite social circle, but I had still managed to pull off three incredibly reckless stunts. First, dating the notorious playboy, Dominic. Second, proposing to him. Third, getting brutally dumped by him. Today, I added a fourth to the list: I ended up in a hotel bed with my blind date. And now, there is a fifth. The hotel belongs to Dominic. 1 I never imagined that seeing Dominic again would happen under these circumstances. Outside the elevator doors, he stood with his arm wrapped tightly around his new flame, his face dark and icy. The guys standing behind him were entirely frozen, their jaws practically on the floor. Inside the elevator, my legs were weak as my blind date pressed me firmly against the wall, taking my mouth in a deep, bruising kiss. “Holy shit…” Someone in Dominic’s group couldn’t help but let out a shocked whisper before quickly shutting his mouth, casting an awkward glance at Dominic. After all, the fact that Dominic and I had been together for three years was hardly a secret. “Hah.” Dominic tightened his grip on his new girl’s waist, looking at the two of us as we finally parted. He let out a low, mocking scoff, then raised an eyebrow, his face darkening further. “Aren’t you two coming out? Or do you plan on putting on a live show right there in the elevator?” Embarrassment flooded my senses. My ears burned hot enough to bleed, and the haze of the alcohol in my system instantly cleared. I quickly grabbed my date’s hand and pulled him out of the elevator. We stepped out as they stepped in. As we brushed past each other, I kept my eyes glued to the floor. A sharp, suffocating ache wrapped around my heart like a tightening net, squeezing until it was hard to breathe. But just as I took a step forward to leave, a loud sneer echoed from behind me. “Man, Dominic, your ex plays dirty. If she’d been this wild when she was with you, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten bored so fast.” 2 Bored. My entire body went rigid. The invisible net tightened, carving deep into my chest until it bled. Dominic and I had once been the most unexpected couple in high society. He was the wild heir, a reckless playboy who treated the world like his personal playground. I was the quiet, obedient daughter who followed every rule to the letter. No one expected Dominic to pursue me so publicly. For my sake, he claimed to have settled down. He tried to be good, spent fortunes to make me smile, and once even drove across the state in the middle of the night just to buy the lemon tarts I said I wanted. For three years, he took care of me with an intensity that made me believe the myth. I truly thought the playboy had reformed, and that he loved me. Until a proposal two months ago shattered my beautiful delusion. I would never forget the room filled with red roses, the velvet box in my hand, and the sheer joy in my chest as I waited for him to come home. But when the front door opened, I was met with the sight of Dominic wrapped around a beautiful girl, kissing her with a desperate hunger. They couldn’t even wait to get to the bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothes right there in the hallway. When Dominic finally noticed the lights were on, his eyes narrowed. He shielded the girl in his arms and stared at me, momentarily stunned. “Daphne? I thought you were in Chicago for your violin performance. Why are you…” His eyes swept over the carefully decorated room, finally landing on the banner hanging on the wall: Marry me, I say yes. Dominic frowned. When he looked back at me, the warmth in his eyes was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, mocking amusement. “Well, looks like the secret is out,” he said, sounding more annoyed than guilty. “Honestly, it’s probably for the best. I was getting pretty tired of playing the reformed playboy anyway.” 3 Tears spilled over my cheeks. I clenched my fists, my voice trembling as I struggled to process his words. “Why?” Dominic pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sharp, frigid laugh. “Because you are just so incredibly boring, Daphne. I got tired of you a long time ago.” Boring? Tired of me? I stared at him in utter disbelief, the pain temporarily eclipsed by shock. “If you were tired of me, why didn’t you just say so?” We weren’t together for three days. It had been three years. If he wanted to break up, I wasn’t the type to beg or cling to him. Why did he have to drag it out and humiliate me like this? Dominic shrugged, his arrogant expression unchanged, but he felt like a complete stranger. “I needed a girlfriend who was quiet, low-maintenance, and respectable to keep my family and the company board off my back. You fit the bill perfectly.” He needed me. So his entire pursuit, his three years of perfect devotion, had just been a well-orchestrated act to satisfy his family? “But now,” Dominic looked around the room at my proposal decorations, letting out a soft sigh, “it seems you’re a bit too needy to just be a pretty ornament on the shelf. You think a little affection means we’re bound for life. That’s way too much drama. If we got married, your expectations would only get worse.” “Exactly,” the girl in his arms chimed in, throwing a contemptuous look my way. “Dominic, didn’t I tell you I’m much better? If you want the quiet girl act, I can do that too, and I promise I’m way more exciting than her. Congrats on getting your freedom back.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Dominic hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes sliding over to me. Then, he cupped the back of her head and dragged her into a deeper kiss. In the silent apartment, the only sound was the wet, desperate noise of their lips parting and meeting. I began to laugh through my tears, remembering what my best friend, Gemma, had warned me when we first started dating. A playboy might settle down, Daphne, but never believe he’s doing it for you. The worst thing you can do is give your whole heart to a man who is only acting on a whim. If you do, you’ll lose everything. She was right. He acted on a whim, and I lost everything. “Oh, is this the ex?” Back in the elevator, the woman in Dominic’s arms let out a sharp, mocking gasp. “An elevator show? How wild. Dominic, how could you ever bring yourself to break up with someone this exciting?” Dominic’s dark eyes locked onto mine as he tightened his grip on her waist, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “She’s a dead fish in bed, babe. No matter how much she tries to wiggle now, she’s still a bore.” 4 All the color drained from my face. For all my education, I found myself entirely speechless in the face of such crude humiliation. My hands clenched into tight fists. For a split second, I wanted to turn around and slap him. But then, a warm arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into a firm chest. The man who had been standing silently beside me squeezed my shoulder, leaning down to murmur in my ear. “Do you want me to carry you?” I gasped slightly, trying to blink back the tears. Before I could answer, Dominic’s deep, irritated voice cut through the air from the elevator. “You two. Your room tonight is on the house.” My date tightened his grip on my shoulder, turning around to look at Dominic with a calm, challenging smile. “Oh?” Dominic didn’t look at him. His eyes were pinned entirely on me, dark and storming. “Daphne was with me for three years, after all. Since you’re staying at my hotel, consider it a professional courtesy. I’ll even have some toys sent up to your room to help you out, since her skills are so basic, I doubt you’ll have a very satisfying night without them.” A round of mean laughter erupted from the guys in the elevator. My face burned with humiliation. We had never even slept together, so where was he getting these disgusting lies from? “You! We never even—” “Thank you for the offer,” my date cut in, his tone remarkably smooth and unaffected. But his next words made the entire lobby go dead silent. “But instead of relying on someone else’s old habits, I’d much rather take my time teaching Daphne myself. We have our whole lives ahead of us to learn. You, on the other hand, won’t ever get that chance again.” Dominic’s eyes flared with anger. His fists clenched, and he took a menacing step forward, but the elevator doors slowly slid shut, cutting him off. 5 Even after we swiped the card and entered the room, my face was still burning hot. That entire exchange had been incredibly intense. This man, who had seemed so gentle, polite, and refined during our blind date, was suddenly speaking with such quiet, dangerous confidence. The bathroom door clicked open. Sebastian stepped out, his hair damp and messy. His white dress shirt was completely soaked, clinging to his skin and outlining the sharp shape of his muscles. I quickly averted my eyes, staring intently at a flower vase nearby. Sebastian sat down on the sofa across from me, his face slightly pale. “I apologize for my behavior in the elevator, Daphne. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I shook my head quickly. “No, please don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong, you were just dragged into my mess.” If I hadn’t made the stupid decision to suggest a quiet lounge for our blind date just to prove I wasn’t “boring,” we wouldn’t have ended up here. I hadn’t realized someone would slip something into my drink. Because I didn’t really drink, Sebastian had noticed the cocktail looked incredibly strong and swapped glasses with me. He had taken the hit for me. In my panic, I had just wanted to find the nearest hotel so he could take a cold shower. I hadn’t even realized the establishment belonged to Dominic’s family. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian. This has to be the worst blind date in history.” Sebastian rubbed his hair with a towel, his dark eyes fixed on the floor as his lips curved into a soft, amused smile. “It was definitely eventful.” 6 In the hotel lobby. Dominic walked out of the elevator, his expression murderous. The friends following him didn’t seem to notice his foul mood, clapping him on the shoulder with a laugh. “Man, who knew Daphne had that in her? She’s not just a pretty girl who plays the violin. Honestly, a good girl who does whatever you teach her sounds kind of hot. That guy looked like he had money, though. They’re probably tearing up the sheets right now…” A loud crash echoed through the lobby as Dominic kicked a metal trash can over. He shoved his new girl away, his knuckles white as his chest heaved. With a low curse, he turned around and slammed his hand against the elevator button. The doors opened immediately. His friends stared in shock as Dominic stepped back inside, aggressively slamming the door-close button as if the panel owed him money. “Is he really that pissed?” Marcus, Dominic’s childhood friend, stared at the closed doors with a frown. He asked a quiet, unrelated question. “Have you guys noticed that Dominic has been acting completely off for the last two months?” The others blinked. “Off? How?” Since the breakup, Dominic had jumped right back into his old lifestyle: drinking, racing, partying with different girls. He was the same old playboy. Well, except for the times he would stare blankly at his phone for hours. But that was about it. In the elevator, Dominic stared at the rising numbers, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth clicked. He slammed his fist against the wall, his voice a low growl. “Daphne, don’t you dare.” 7 Sebastian had to take another cold shower. The good news was the drugs were finally leaving his system. The bad news was he was completely exhausted. A loud thud from the bathroom startled me. Forgetting all propriety, I rushed inside. Sebastian was sitting on the tiled floor, one knee pulled up, leaning against the wet wall. The cold water was still spraying over him, and he looked up through the mist, offering a helpless, apologetic smile. “I ran out of energy. I’m sorry.” In that moment, he looked exactly like a sad, soaked golden retriever. His dark eyes were wide and vulnerable, melting away any awkwardness I felt. I quickly turned off the water and helped him up, letting him lean his weight against me. The icy temperature of his skin shocked me. It was winter, and soaking in cold water like this was a guaranteed way to get pneumonia. “Here,” I grabbed a large towel from the rack, standing on my tiptoes to wrap it around him. But as I pulled the towel tight, the height difference worked against me. The fabric caught, pulling Sebastian forward. Our bodies collided, leaving zero space between us. Our noses brushed, and we both froze. Sebastian was nearly a head taller than me, but he stood perfectly still, looking down at me with an intense, unreadable gaze. Water droplets rolled down his sharp jawline, dripping onto my collarbone and wetting my shirt. The air in the room grew thick and heavy. “What? Are you two planning on putting on a bathroom show next?” A cold, sarcastic voice cut through the silence from the doorway. Startled, I immediately let go of the towel and stepped back. Dominic stood at the entrance of the bathroom, holding a master keycard in his hand. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes burning with a dark, suppressed fury as he stared at us. 8 Sebastian’s brow furrowed, but he remained far calmer than I was. He took a step forward, shielding me behind his broad frame, and looked at Dominic with a cool smile. “Did you come up here to deliver those toys yourself, Dominic?” “Of course.” Dominic let out a harsh laugh, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His expression was dripping with arrogance. “Maybe I should just join you two? I can guarantee you’ll have the absolute ride of your lives.” Anger finally flared in my chest. “Dominic, are you insane?” Why was he doing this? Was he just trying to ruin my life, or did he enjoy humiliating me? Dominic’s eyes locked onto mine, dark and dangerous. “I thought you wanted something exciting? This seems perfect. But speaking of insane…” He walked slowly into the bathroom, looking Sebastian up and down with blatant contempt. “Hey mate, how much do you charge for a night? Are you clean? Have you been tested? I might play dirty, but I don’t touch trash. How about I pay for your medical exam first?” I was completely speechless. “Dominic, you need to get your head checked.” Humiliating me in the lobby wasn’t enough; he had to follow us to our room to insult Sebastian? He was acting as if I had cheated on him. “It seems,” Sebastian said with a quiet chuckle, his tone perfectly conversational, “that you’ve mistaken my profession. Let me introduce myself. I am Sebastian Sinclair, CEO of the Sinclair Group. I am the blind date Daphne’s grandmother personally selected for her.” 9 Sebastian’s words were quiet, but they carried an immense weight. The Sinclair Group had primarily operated overseas until recently, which was why Sebastian wasn’t widely recognized in our local social circles yet. But the mention of “Daphne’s grandmother” was enough to prove his pedigree. She would never select anyone but the best for me. Dominic froze. The arrogant confidence he had walked in with evaporated the moment he realized Sebastian wasn’t some cheap escort he could bully. “A blind date?” Dominic turned his gaze back to me, his eyes tight with a desperate, tense energy. “You went on a blind date? And you came straight to a hotel with him? You actually like him?” I didn’t even bother to answer. What I did with my life was none of his business. Did our breakup come with a lifetime surveillance package? “Speak!” Dominic’s voice cracked with a dark intensity. “Do you like him?” “Yes, I do,” I snapped, entirely done with him. “Now, can you please get the hell out of our room?” Dominic’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles popped, and for a second, I thought he was going to swing at Sebastian. But he just stared at me for a few agonizing seconds before letting out a rough, bitter laugh. “Fine. You’ve grown a spine, Daphne. But remember, this hotel is mine. If anyone is leaving, it’s the two of you.” He offered me a dark, twisted smirk. He was entirely serious. I was so angry I couldn’t even speak. I was so consumed by fury that I completely missed the dark, desperate storm brewing in his eyes. 10 Sebastian was still too weak to drive, so his assistant came to pick him up. I stood by the car door, feeling incredibly guilty as I waved goodbye. “Sebastian, I am so incredibly sorry. Goodbye.” Sebastian leaned against the leather seat, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “Goodbye, Daphne.” I watched the car pull away, knowing deep down that “goodbye” probably meant we would never see each other again. Who would want to go on a second date after a disaster like this? Getting kicked out of a hotel by your date’s ex-boyfriend was a story for the history books. Sighing, I pulled out my phone and opened Sebastian’s contact info, typing out a message. Sebastian, I am so… I paused. I had said “sorry” so many times today that the word felt entirely cheap. “Forget it,” I muttered to myself. “It’s better to just leave it.” I turned around to head toward the main lobby of the garage to call a cab. But the moment I turned, I realized a figure was standing in the shadows behind me. I let out a sharp scream, dropping my phone. Dominic stepped out of the darkness, his face pale and cold. Before I could run, he grabbed my wrist and slammed me against the concrete pillar. His mouth fell onto mine, crushing my lips in a desperate, angry kiss. “Let go!” I struggled against his grip, but his hands were like iron. In desperation, I bit down hard on his lip. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Dominic hissed in pain, finally pulling back, but his arms remained locked around me, pinning me to the pillar. He ignored the blood dripping down his chin, his dark eyes staring into mine with a terrifying intensity. “Did you like kissing him? Was it exciting? Is he better than me?” “Let go of me, Dominic,” I said, my voice dead and cold. Dominic let out a low, desperate laugh, the blood smeared across his lips making him look wild and dangerous. “You said you loved me. You proposed to me. How can you move on to another man so quickly?” 11 I looked at him, my eyes filled with a quiet, burning rage. “What does it matter to you?” Dominic raised an eyebrow, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His voice was laced with a dark, trembling anger. “We were together for three years, Daphne. I can’t even ask? Is this how you’re going to treat me now?” I clenched my fists. “Ask? Dominic, you are unbelievable. You humiliate me, you insult my date, and now you’re acting like the victim? Are you worried I’ll become too much of a bother again?” Dominic froze, his expression tightening. Then, he let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Is this your way of playing hard to get, Daphne? Are you doing all of this just to get my attention?” I stared at him, finding his arrogance almost pathetic. “You really need to get your head checked, Dominic. Your narcissism is a disease.” Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “Daphne, don’t push this too far.” “I was always boring to you, wasn’t I?” I smiled coldly. “Go enjoy your precious freedom. Our little show ended a long time ago.” I gave him one last look, a look filled with absolute disgust, and walked away without turning back. Behind me, Dominic watched my figure disappear into the shadows of the garage. For the first time, a flicker of confusion appeared in his eyes, followed by a sudden, terrifying panic that he couldn’t quite comprehend.

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Flirting with Dax was the sweetest thing ever. Normally, I did not even use his real name. Whenever we were alone, I would playfully call him, “Husband.” He would immediately blush from his collar up to his hairline, muttering stiffly, “Don’t say that.” Sure, got it. I would absolutely do it again next time. Until I saw the comments. [Stop shouting, sister. The moment his childhood best friend gets back, he is going to tell you to stop joking like that in front of everyone.] [She is happily calling him husband now, but he is really just too polite to embarrass her.] I froze in my tracks. Dax was standing by the entrance of the corner store, holding the strawberry milkshake I had mentioned wanting. “Anything else?” I took the bag, the smile fading from my face. “No, that is it.” “Thanks, Dax.” 1 Dax visibly hesitated. He stood there holding the plastic bag from the store, the thin material rustling softly in the cool night breeze. Just minutes ago, I had casually mentioned wanting a strawberry milkshake. He had scoffed, saying, “You are not a kid,” but his feet had already carried him inside. In the past, I would have pressed my face against the glass window, beaming at him. When he walked out, I would have drawn out my words, teasing him. “Thanks, husband.” Then I would watch him turn red. Dax was incredibly shy. It was not a fake, performative shyness either. It was genuine. The first time I called him that was at the diner near campus. I had forgotten my wallet, and he swiped his student ID to buy us both burgers and fries. Holding my fork, I grinned and said, “Thanks, husband.” Dax nearly choked on his soda. His ears flushed so red they looked sunburned. “Sadie,” he muttered, lowering his voice, “don’t say that.” I blinked. “Should I call you babe instead?” He looked even more uncomfortable. “No.” “Mr. Dax?” “…” “Boss?” “Just eat your fries.” That was when I figured him out. Dax looked cold and distant, a quiet, straight A student with the kind of sharp, handsome face that regularly ended up on the campus confession pages. He was the classic untouchable heartthrob. But a little teasing, and he completely unraveled. It was adorable. I did not have any bad intentions. I just loved seeing him try so hard to keep his cool when he was actually panicking inside. And he never got truly angry. Every time he told me to stop, he would still bring me coffee the next day, save me a seat in class, and wait for my lectures to end. I thought it was a mutual flirtation. I thought we both knew what we were doing. But the comments said otherwise. They said he was just too polite to push me away. The wind outside the corner store felt cold. I pulled the milkshake out of the bag and tried to push the straw through the lid. My hand shook slightly, and I missed twice. Dax reached out. “Let me.” I instinctively went to hand it over. Halfway through, the comments flashed in my mind. My hand went rigid. “No, it is fine.” Dax looked at me. “You are going to spill it.” I looked down. He was right. Before, I would have pushed it into his hands without a second thought. Help me, husband. He would scowl, tell me to stop calling him that, and then carefully pierce the lid for me. Now, I pulled the straw back, lined it up, and forced it through myself. I pushed too hard, and a drop of pink liquid splashed onto the back of my hand. Dax’s forehead creased, and his hand moved toward his pocket for a tissue. I was faster. I pulled a napkin from my bag and wiped it off. “All set.” Dax’s hand hovered in midair. I pretended not to notice, taking a sip of the sweet milkshake. It was sugary, but a bitter taste settled in my mouth. “Is something wrong today?” Dax asked. I kept my teeth on the straw. “Nothing at all.” He watched me. “What did you just call me?” My chest tightened. “Dax.” “Why?” I looked up at him, forcing a smile. “Weren’t you always telling me not to call you those other names?” Dax was quiet for a few seconds. The streetlights cast long shadows from his eyelashes across his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly. I wanted to ask him what he did mean. But the comments were already drifting across my mind again. [Of course he didn’t mean to be harsh, he is just too nice to say it track blankly.] [The worst part of being the side character is mistaking his politeness for affection.] [Once his childhood friend Isla gets back, he will start keeping his distance. She will realize then how embarrassing her wishful thinking was.] I swallowed the question. “Yeah, I know,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I won’t do it anymore.” Dax stared at me. “I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea,” I added. His forehead creased instantly. “Who would get the wrong idea?” “Everyone,” I said. “Do you care what everyone thinks?” I wanted to say no. But as the words reached my lips, I realized there was no point in denying it. I did not want to get the wrong idea either. I did not want to be standing there like a fool when he finally told me to stop joking in front of a crowd. I took another sip. “Yeah.” Dax did not say another word. We walked back to the dorms side by side. Normally, I would fill this walk with useless chatter, complaining about homework, pointing out a cute dog, or joking about wishing the school would burn down before my 8 AM class. Dax usually did not say much, but he would listen. Sometimes he would look at me when my rants got too ridiculous. Even that quiet look felt sweet back then. Tonight, I was silent. It was so quiet that when we reached the steps of my dorm, Dax suddenly stopped. “Sadie.” I paused. “Yeah?” He pressed his lips together, looking like he wanted to say something. But in the end, he only managed, “Are we still going to the library tomorrow?” Before, I would have said, Of course, wait for me at our usual spot, husband. Now, I just nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Dax.” His face darkened completely. But I waved and turned away before he could say anything else. “See you tomorrow.” 2 When I got back to the room, my roommate Tessa was putting on a face mask. Seeing me, she immediately sat up. “Back so early? Didn’t your boy Dax keep you downstairs for another ten minutes of lingering goodbyes?” I set the milkshake on my desk. “No.” Tessa squinted. “Did you guys fight?” “No.” “Your face says otherwise.” I sat down and unzipped my backpack. “Really, we didn’t.” Tessa leaned closer. “Then what is up? Usually you come back grinning like you won the lottery. Tonight you look like you are about to fail calculus.” I let out a weak laugh, but my eyes quickly cast downward. “I was just thinking, have I been a bit too much lately? Like, crossing boundaries?” Tessa blinked. “You?” “Yeah.” “With Dax?” I nodded. Tessa ripped the face mask off. “Aren’t you guys literally flirting every single day?” My hands paused on my books. “Do you think so too?” “Duh,” Tessa said. “If he didn’t like you, would he save you a seat every morning? Would he run down to get you a milkshake just because you mentioned it? Would he just blush and tell you to behave when you call him husband?” “Maybe he is just really nice,” I murmured. Tessa stared at me in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” I looked at her. “Dax? Nice?” she scoffed. “He doesn’t say more than three words to anyone else.” I did not answer. She did not know about the comments. She did not know his childhood friend was coming back. She did not know that one day, Dax would tell me to stop making those jokes in front of everyone. Seeing that I was genuinely upset, Tessa softened her tone. “Sadie, did someone say something to you?” I shook my head. “No.” “So you are really going to stop teasing him?” I pushed the milkshake a little further away. “Yeah. I’m going to stop.” Tessa sighed. “Well, Dax is going to lose his mind.” I smiled faintly. “No, he won’t.” The comments drifted across my vision again. [Of course he won’t lose his mind. It saves him the trouble of dealing with her.] [The worst thing in a situationship is when one person gets too ahead of themselves. It is smart of her to pull the brakes now.] [Isla comes back tomorrow. The school forum is going to blow up. They grew up together, who is this random girl compared to her?] Looking at those words, my heart took a slow, heavy dip. The next day, news of Isla’s return spread everywhere. She was Dax’s childhood friend and had been a prominent figure on campus before she took a year off to go abroad for medical treatment. Now she was back. People on the campus forum were digging up old photos of them. High school academic competitions, family dinners, and one incredibly blurry photo from a sports meet. In that photo, Isla was standing by the finish line, and Dax, looking exhausted after a run, was leaning over with his hands on his knees. She was handing him a bottle of water, and he was reaching for it. I stared at that photo for a long time. It was just a bottle of water. I had given him water before too. But the comments kept coming. [The classic childhood friend entry. High school memories always win.] [Dax was never the type to accept water from just anyone back then.] [A corner store milkshake really can’t compete with years of shared history.] I put my phone face down. Tessa muttered beside me, “People on the forum are so annoying. It is a bottle of water, and they are writing a whole romance novel about it.” I smiled. “Maybe people just like a good story.” “And you? Aren’t you mad?” I shook my head. “Why would I be mad?” I was not his girlfriend. I did not even have the right to be jealous. When I went to the library that afternoon, I deliberately arrived ten minutes late. Normally, Dax would be the one waiting for me, and today was no different. He was sitting by the window, a vacant chair saved next to him. On the desk sat an iced latte. Half sweet. No ice. Exactly how I liked it. My steps faltered. Dax looked up, and the tension in his eyes seemed to ease slightly when he saw me. “You’re here.” I sat down and pushed the cup back toward his side of the table. “You don’t have to buy things for me anymore.” Dax looked at the cup. “You’re not drinking it?” “I just had water.” He was quiet for a moment. “You said yesterday you wanted one.” I froze. I had indeed casually mentioned it because the classroom had been freezing during our late lecture. Before, knowing he remembered such minor details would have made me ecstatic. Now, it only made my chest ache. The more he remembered, the easier it was for me to get the wrong idea. I pushed the cup right to the center of the table. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to go to the trouble.” Dax’s grip on his pen tightened. “Sadie.” I kept my eyes on my book. “Yeah?” “Since yesterday, you’ve done nothing but thank me.” I blinked slowly. “It is polite to say thank you.” He watched me. “You never used to say it before.” I thought about it. Before, I would have said: You are the best, husband. How did you get so perfect, Dax? Are you secretly in love with me or something? And his ears would turn bright red. Now that I thought about it, I really had lacked boundaries. “I was being childish back then,” I murmured. The tip of Dax’s pen stopped on the paper. “Childish?” I nodded. “Yeah.” He let out a short, frustrated breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “Who told you that?” I shook my head. “No one.” The comments rolled by. [At least she is self aware now.] [Isla is almost at the library. Get ready for the drama.] [Backing off now keeps things graceful. Better than waiting for him to shut her down in public.] My chest tightened. Almost immediately, there was a quiet murmur near the entrance of the library. Someone whispered, “Isla’s here.” I looked up. Isla was wearing a soft blue sweater, her long hair falling over her shoulders. She looked a bit pale, but she was beautiful. As she walked in, several heads turned. She saw Dax and smiled. “Dax.” It sounded so natural. Unlike me and my ridiculous, teasing nicknames. Isla walked over, her gaze landing on me. “And who is this?” Before Dax could speak, I quickly smiled. “I’m Sadie. We are in the same department.” We are in the same department. Clean, polite, and distant. Isla nodded. “Nice to meet you.” She sat down across from Dax and pulled out a binder. “I just got back and I’ve missed so much. You mentioned I could borrow your notes?” Dax looked at me, not answering her right away. I began packing my books. He asked, “Where are you going?” “I’m going to study vocabulary over by the stacks,” I said. “You can’t study here?” I smiled. “You two should catch up. I won’t disturb you.” Dax’s brow furrowed deep. “Sadie.” But I had already gathered my things and walked behind the bookshelves. 3 I spent half an hour behind the shelves trying to memorize words, but none of them stuck. My ears kept straining to hear the quiet conversation from their table. Isla’s voice was soft, and Dax barely spoke, just giving brief answers. They really were just looking at notes. There was no flirting, no crossing of lines. But a heavy weight settled in my chest anyway. There was an effortless familiarity between them. Without needing much explanation, the moment Isla mentioned a topic, Dax knew exactly which textbook she meant. When she said, “You still have that old habit,” Dax paused before replying, “Can’t seem to break it.” I had no part in that history. I had only known him for six months. In those six months, I had used jokes and teasing to slowly chip away at his silence. I thought I had gotten close to him. But the moment Isla returned, I realized how shallow that closeness really was. The moment I took back the nickname, we were nothing more than ordinary classmates. My eyes grew hot as I stared at the vocabulary list. [Don’t look, it only hurts more.] [Isla didn’t even do anything, but the power of a childhood friend lies in how natural it is.] [She thought she was special, but she is realizing there is a line she can’t cross.] I closed the book. When I left the library that evening, Dax came running out after me. Isla was already gone. He stood at the bottom of the steps, holding the untouched latte. “Sadie.” I stopped. “What’s wrong?” He held the cup out to me, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitated. I did not take it. “It is fine, you drink it.” Dax looked down at the cup. “It is half sweet.” “Yeah.” “I don’t drink sweet things.” My heart gave a small squeeze. He did not like sweet things. This was meant for me, and I knew it. But I could not take it. Taking it would mean slipping back into old habits. I forced a smile. “Then throw it away.” Dax’s face darkened instantly. “What is wrong with you lately?” The evening wind swept up the library steps. I clutched my books, my fingers completely numb from the cold. “Nothing’s wrong.” “Yesterday you called me Dax.” “That’s your name.” “You didn’t use to call me that.” My chest ached. What did I use to call him? I wanted to ask, but I did not dare. Those nicknames were just my one sided jokes. Husband. Babe. Boss. No matter how happily I said them, they were never real. I lowered my eyes. “I didn’t have any boundaries before.” Dax stared at me. “Say that again.” My nose tingled. It was rare for him to speak in such a cold, sharp tone. But it only proved the comments were right. He had probably been tolerating me for a long time. Now that Isla was back, he finally had a reason to draw the line. “I won’t make those jokes anymore,” I said softly. Dax was silent. After a long pause, he asked, “Including those names?” I nodded. His grip tightened, slightly crushing the paper cup in his hand. “Why?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Weren’t you always telling me to stop?” Dax froze. “I’m finally listening to you,” I added. [Damn.] [That actually hurts.] [He spent all this time telling her to stop, and now he is realizing she actually did.] Dax stared at me, the usual cold calm in his eyes completely shattered. He opened his mouth to speak. But from a distance, a voice called out, “Dax!” Isla was standing under a streetlight, holding her phone. “Did you leave your keys in my bag?” Dax looked back. I took a step backward. “Go ahead.” He did not move. I gave him a small smile. “My dorm is close by.” With that, I turned and walked away. This time, he did not follow. Behind me, I heard Isla catch up to him. I heard her ask, “Did you two have a fight?” Dax did not answer. I quickened my pace. At least I had walked away first. I had not let it reach the point where he would tell me to stop in front of a crowd. I had saved some of my dignity. 4 Over the next few days, I became an expert at keeping my distance. When we met, I called him Dax. My texts were strictly about coursework. When he saved me a seat, I said thank you. When he asked to get food, I told him my roommate was waiting. When he offered me a drink, I declined. At first, Dax would scowl. But as the days went on, he grew quieter and quieter. I figured he would get used to it soon. After all, having one less person constantly teasing him and calling him husband should have been a relief. But Tessa could not stand it anymore. While I was brushing my teeth, she snatched my phone. “What is going on with you two?” I wiped my face with a towel. “Nothing.” “Nothing? Dax sent you eleven texts, and every single one of your replies reads like an official university announcement.” I reached out. “Give me my phone.” Instead of handing it over, Tessa read aloud. “Dax: I can grab you breakfast before our 8 AM class tomorrow.” “You: No need to trouble yourself, I’ll get something on my way. Thanks.” “Dax: I thought you hated the dining hall eggs.” “You: I eat them now.” Tessa looked up at me. “Sadie, you eat dining hall eggs now?” I stayed silent. She scoffed. “Just yesterday you said those eggs smelled like a midlife crisis.” “…” Tessa kept reading. “Dax: Are we still going to the movie on Saturday?” “You: I can’t go, I need to work on my paper.” She slammed the phone onto the desk. “Didn’t you buy those tickets two weeks ago? You literally said you wanted to watch it with your future boyfriend.” “I said future boyfriend,” I mumbled. “I didn’t say it was him.” Tessa looked like she wanted to shake some sense into me. “Sadie, cut the crap.” I looked down, saying nothing. [The side character is officially exiting the stage.] [This is graceful. At least there is no big dramatic scene.] [But his mood has been terrible lately, even Isla noticed.] My chest tightened. Tessa suddenly said, “Isla came to find me today.” I froze. “To find you?” “Yeah. She asked if you were misunderstanding something.” Tessa leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. “She said she and Dax aren’t like that. She only came back to catch up on classes. She also said Dax looks like he is going through a devastating breakup.” My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly forced the feeling down. “She’s probably just joking.” “I don’t think so,” Tessa said. “And do you think he is enjoying the peace? He was watching you sit next to someone else in the library today, looking like he was about to snap his pen in half.” “I was sitting next to a project partner,” I protested. “A guy.” “It was schoolwork.” “You wouldn’t have cared about schoolwork before.” She was right. Before, if Dax had sat next to another girl, I would have slid right in next to them with a grin. Am I interrupting your chat with this pretty girl, Dax? He would blush and tell me to stop playing around, and I would sit right beside him anyway. Now, I did not play around anymore. I did not have the right to. I took my phone back. Dax’s latest message was still on the screen. “Are you free tomorrow? I want to talk.” I stared at the words for a long time before replying. “Sure.” I hesitated, then added: “Dax.” The screen immediately showed “typing…” but it took a long time before a single word came back. “Okay.”

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1 I had worked at Horizon Holdings for three years without a single late arrival on my record. This afternoon, the layoff notice went up. Right there on the third line was my employee ID. Fine by me. It took me exactly ten minutes to hand over my responsibilities, pack my things into a cardboard box, and walk out. But right at the main entrance, the CEO’s daughter blocked my path. She looked completely innocent. “Um, firing you was just a little show for my boyfriend. You can come back to work now.” I looked at the exit clearance papers in my hand, covered in official red stamps, and then looked back at her. “Miss Sinclair, do you think if I eat this piece of paper right now, we can pretend none of this happened?” … Monday, 11:40 AM. Twenty minutes before lunch. I was still debating whether to grab a turkey sub or some takeout tacos when Lily from Administration rushed over to my desk. “Luke! The bulletin board! Go look, quickly!” Her face was pale, like she’d seen a ghost. I let go of my mouse and walked down to the end of the hallway. A crowd of colleagues had already gathered around the board, whispering and buzzing with nervous energy. I squeezed through the gap and cast my eyes over the paper. Notice of Third-Quarter Personnel Optimization and Restructuring Underneath was a list of employee IDs and names. Third line. ID: HZ-20210315. Name: Luke Benson. Department: Technical Operations and Infrastructure. Oh. I stared at those words for three seconds. Then I turned around and walked back to my desk. The quiet murmurs of my coworkers followed me. “Luke is on the list?” “Isn’t he the guy who maintains the entire company system?” “It’s not like he’s the only one who can do that job, right?” Right. I wasn’t the only one. I sat back down in my chair and pulled open my desk drawer. There wasn’t much inside. A thermos, an unopened pack of wet wipes, and a thick LSAT prep guide, something I had bought on my very first day at Horizon and hadn’t opened once. I swept everything into a small cardboard box. Then I sent a quick message to Marcus, my department head: “Marcus, I saw the list. How do you want to handle the transition of my tasks?” Marcus replied instantly: “Wait, you’re on the list? I haven’t even looked yet… hold on, don’t pack up, let me ask around.” I didn’t wait. I opened my computer, updated the last-modified dates on my three main server maintenance documents, and saved them to the shared network drive. Then I composed a brief email to the department group. Subject: Ops Transition Memorandum The body of the email contained only one sentence: “All system admin credentials, server configurations, and third-party API documentation are saved in the shared drive under the folder ‘Luke Benson – Ops’. If you run into issues, refer to the documents.” Send. I checked the time. Exactly eight minutes had passed since I saw the notice. I shut down the computer, unplugged my flash drive, and unclipped my ID badge. The box wasn’t heavy, easily cradled in one arm. I stood up and took one last look at the cubicle where I had sat for three years. On the divider, there was a sticky note from last year: “Remember to swap out the backup hard drives in the server room on Friday.” I peeled it off, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the trash. My colleagues watched me in silence. No one spoke. No one came over to say goodbye. That was fine. When layoffs happen, the survivors are usually too busy feeling relieved and terrified of being next to offer any real sympathy. I walked to the HR office and knocked twice. Audrey, the HR supervisor, opened the door. She froze when she saw me. “That was fast.” “Let’s get the paperwork over with,” I said. Audrey gave a slightly awkward smile and handed me a stack of papers. Termination agreement, non-compete waiver, final payroll confirmation. I signed them one by one. “About the non-compete,” Audrey said quietly. “Standard protocol means we wouldn’t usually waive this for someone of your level, but since you were put on the list, management decided to release you from it directly to keep things simple.” I nodded. No non-compete meant I could go to a competitor tomorrow. I guess that was the only real perk of getting laid off. As I signed the last line, Audrey stamped the documents with the official corporate seal. “Thanks for your hard work, Luke. Your severance will be deposited by the end of the month.” “Sounds good.” All in all, ten minutes. Three years of my career, wrapped up and filed away in ten minutes. I walked out of the HR office with my cardboard box, crossed the lobby, passed the bulletin board, and stepped into the elevator. I was alone in the elevator car. I looked down at the box. The thermos, the wipes, the pristine LSAT prep book. It felt incredibly light. I wasn’t even sad. Three years at Horizon, earning eighty thousand a year, a perfectly average salary. My daily grind consisted of maintaining the company’s internal intranet, keeping the servers running, and dealing with various messy software integrations. To put it bluntly, I was just the IT guy. Firing the IT guy was a standard corporate move. The elevator doors opened on the first floor. The bright midday sun made me squint. A few people were bustling across the lobby, paying no attention to me. I headed toward the glass entrance doors. And then I stopped. Someone was blocking the exit. Specifically, a young woman wearing a cream-colored dress and high heels. Sienna Sinclair. The only daughter of our CEO, Arthur Sinclair. A mythical figure around the office. She rarely ever set foot in the building. But here she was today, standing right in front of me. She glanced at the box in my hands, then at the empty space on my shirt where my badge used to hang. “Are you Luke Benson?” she asked. I nodded. “Look…” She glanced around, dropping her voice to a whisper. “The whole firing thing? It’s not real.” I stared at her. “Excuse me?” “I had them add your employee ID to the list,” she said casually, as if she were talking about the weather. I didn’t say anything. She continued to explain, “My boyfriend, Zach, is a bit of a jealous type. He hates the idea of some guy constantly coming around to help me fix my laptop or whatever. I just wanted to put on a little show for him to make him feel secure, to let him see that you were gone.” “So you just…” “Yeah, it was just a little act. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to my dad later, and you can just come back tomorrow like nothing happened.” She finished speaking and flashed me a sweet smile. It was so sweet that for a second, I thought I was losing my mind. “Miss Sinclair.” “Yes?” I shifted the box to my left arm and reached into my pocket with my right hand, pulling out a sheet of paper. My official termination letter. Complete with the bright red HR stamp and signatures. “The paperwork is already done.” Sienna’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?” “It means I’ve already signed the exit agreement, HR has stamped it, my severance is locked in, and my non-compete is waived.” I gave the paper a gentle wave in front of her face. “Legally speaking, once this is signed by both parties, the employment relationship is officially over. It’s binding.” “Why… why did you sign it so fast?!” “My name was on the list. Did you expect me to sit around and wait for a formal farewell party?” Sienna was stunned. She clearly hadn’t anticipated that anyone would execute their exit paperwork within ten minutes of a layoff notice. “Wait a second, let me make a phone call right now…” “Miss Sinclair,” I interrupted, stepping around her. “A piece of advice.” “Next time you want to put on a show, make sure you brief your actors first.” Then I walked out. Behind me, the sharp click-clack of her heels hurried after me. “Wait! Luke! Stop right there!” I didn’t look back. The security guard at the door looked at me, then at Sienna chasing after me, completely bewildered. I gave him a nod. “Take care, Gary.” “Take care, Luke,” Gary replied automatically. And then he watched the CEO’s daughter stand frozen at the glass doors, looking like a lost mannequin in her high heels. The sun was warm. And for my first day of unemployment, the sky looked incredibly blue. 2 First thing I did when I got home was draw the curtains. Second thing was toss the cardboard box into a dusty corner. Third thing, I collapsed onto the couch and turned on the TV. A food documentary was playing, focusing on slow-smoked Texas brisket. The bark on the meat looked perfectly dark, the fat glistening and rendering down. Perfect. I watched the screen for about ten minutes before my phone buzzed. It was a message from Marcus, my old boss. “Luke, did you really leave? I just talked to HR, and they said you signed the papers. Why didn’t you wait for me?” I replied with a simple “Yep.” My phone buzzed again. “Man, don’t panic. Let me see if I can get them to roll it back…” “Don’t bother, Marcus. The ink is dry, and honestly, it’s fine.” “But…” “All the handover documents are in the shared drive. The passwords are there too. Just have Pete take over.” “Pete? He barely knows how to install a printer driver…” “Then he’ll have to learn.” I flipped my phone face-down on the couch and went back to watching the brisket. Half an hour later, the phone started vibrating violently. It wasn’t Marcus this time. It was the departmental group chat. Messages were flying in one after another. Pete: “@All, uh… the internal payroll and HR portal Luke used to manage is down. Does anyone have the admin password?” Three minutes later. Pete: “Urgent! Anyone? I’m locked out.” Five minutes later. A guy from Marketing popped into the chat: “Our project tracking platform is completely inaccessible. It says the security certificate expired. Who’s running this?” Ray: “…That was Luke’s domain.” Marketing: “Where is he?” Ray: “He’s gone. Laid off today.” Marketing: “WTF??” I quietly left the group chat. Not my circus, not my monkeys. The brisket segment finished, followed by a piece on wood-fired Italian pizzas. My phone buzzed again. A direct message. From Ray. Ray and I got along well enough, occasionally grabbing beers after work. “Luke, I’m looking at your handover folder on the shared drive. Quick question…” “Yeah?” “The ‘Core Credentials Master List’ is password-protected. What’s the key?” I stared at the screen for three seconds. “It’s in the metadata tooltips.” A minute later… “I don’t see any tooltips?” “Hover your mouse over the file icon and hold it there for two seconds. A dialog box will pop up.” Two minutes later… “Luke, it popped up. But it says: ‘This master password is tied to the active administrator’s security token. Upon employee termination, access is automatically revoked. Please contact your IT Systems Architect to reset.’” “Then contact the IT Systems Architect to reset it.” “Who the hell is the IT Systems Architect?” “Up until ten o’clock this morning, it was me.” There was a long silence from Ray. So long that I thought his phone had died. Then he sent a single word: “Damn.” I locked my phone and went into the kitchen to boil some pasta. Before the water even reached a boil, there was a knock on my door. I walked over and peered through the peephole. A middle-aged man in a slightly rumpled suit stood there, clutching a briefcase and wiping sweat from his forehead. I didn’t recognize him. “Can I help you?” I called out. “Mr. Benson? I’m from Horizon Holdings’ administration department. My name is Mason.” I opened the door. Mr. Mason took a deep breath, trying to summon a professional smile. “Mr. Benson, look, regarding this afternoon—” “I’m not coming back.” His smile froze. “I haven’t even said anything yet—” “You’re here to ask me to come back to work, aren’t you?” The look of sheer panic on his face told me everything. “Well, Mr. Sinclair sent me personally. He said there was a massive clerical error in the layoff list. Your employee ID was never meant to be on there. It was all a misunderstanding…” “Mr. Mason.” I leaned against the doorframe. “You have a copy of the exit agreement I signed, right?” “Well, yes—” “Take a look at the stamp on it. Is that the official corporate seal?” “Yes…” “And the date? Is it today?” “Yes, but—” “Then do you really think a legally binding bilateral contract can be dissolved by calling it a ‘misunderstanding’?” Mr. Mason’s mouth opened and closed, opened and closed. He looked exactly like a fish gasping for air on dry land. “Mr. Benson, please. If you could just come back to the office, we can negotiate the terms of the agreement—” “I appreciate your hustle, Mr. Mason, but my pasta is on the stove. If I don’t get back to it, it’s going to turn to mush.” I gently closed the door. Through the wood, I could hear his muffled voice: “Mr. Benson? Luke? Please reconsider! I’ll wait out here!” I went back to the kitchen, drained the pasta, and tossed it with some garlic, olive oil, and red pepper flakes. Simple, clean, and perfectly al dente. It tasted infinitely better than anything from the company cafeteria. Eventually, the hallway went quiet. Mr. Mason had left. I finished my meal, washed the dishes, and decided to take a nap. My phone screen kept lighting up, notifications piling up on the lock screen. I glanced at them. One of them was an automated system-wide email from Horizon Holdings. Subject: Retraction of Third-Quarter Personnel Notice I clicked it open and read the first couple of lines. “Due to an administrative data entry error, Employee ID HZ-20210315 (Luke Benson) was mistakenly included on the list. The notice regarding said employee is hereby retracted…” Too late. I tossed the phone onto my nightstand. Time for a nap. I was a free man now. 3 At 3:30 PM, my landline rang, waking me up. Yes, I still had a landline. Usually, it was only used by delivery guys or telemarketers. I groggily picked up the receiver. “Hello?” “Luke Benson? This is the Office of the Chairman at Horizon Holdings.” The voice was deep, authoritative, and instantly recognizable. My sleepiness vanished. Arthur Sinclair. The big boss of Horizon Holdings. Sienna’s father. I sat up. “Hello, Mr. Sinclair.” “Luke, today was an absolute mess. I’ve already dealt with the people responsible. I want you to know that I value your contribution to this company very highly.” His tone was incredibly warm, almost apologetic. “Here’s what we’ll do. You come back to your position tomorrow. I’ll bump you up a grade, increase your base salary to a hundred and twenty thousand, and make sure your full performance bonus for this quarter is paid out. How does that sound?” From eighty thousand to a hundred and twenty thousand. A fifty percent raise. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. But… “Mr. Sinclair, I have one question.” “Go ahead.” “Who authorized my name to be on that layoff list in the first place?” Silence stretched over the line for two seconds. “Well… it was processed through Administration.” “And why would Administration put my name on there?” Another three seconds of heavy silence. “Luke, I will launch an internal audit into this matter—” “Mr. Sinclair, I heard it was Miss Sinclair who requested my employee ID be added.” Silence fell again, thick enough to cut with a knife. Five full seconds. “Luke, regardless of the circumstances, I want to personally apologize on behalf of the company.” He didn’t confirm it, but he didn’t deny it either. That was all the confirmation I needed. “Mr. Sinclair, it’s a very generous offer. But I’ve already signed the termination papers. And,” I paused, letting the words hang, “your HR department officially signed my non-compete waiver.” The sound of Arthur Sinclair’s breathing grew noticeably heavier. “They did what?” A waived non-compete meant I could legally start working for their direct competitor this very afternoon. No garden leave. No cooling-off period. Audrey had simply followed the standard protocol for mid-level employees. The system wasn’t designed to catch the fact that the “mid-level” guy held the keys to the entire castle. I was the only one who understood Horizon’s system architecture, server setups, and third-party API keys. Allowing a person with that level of institutional knowledge to walk away with zero restrictions is what corporate risk managers call a catastrophic vulnerability. “Mr. Sinclair, I don’t bear any ill will. But from a legal perspective, I’m a free agent now. I have no obligation to Horizon.” “Luke—” “You should probably look into how your internal operations are being run. Have a good evening.” I hung up. Then I unplugged the landline. I lay back down and stared at the ceiling. To be honest, my palms were sweating during that call. Arthur Sinclair was a billionaire, after all. But every word I said was a fact. They had set their own house on fire. Why should I be the one to carry the water buckets? I rolled over to try and get back to sleep when my cell phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. I hesitated, then answered. “Mr. Benson? Hello, I’m Fiona, the VP of HR at Zenith Solutions.” Zenith Solutions. Horizon’s fiercest rival in the region. “Hi, Fiona. What can I do for you?” “Well, word travels fast. We heard you parted ways with Horizon today.” “You have good sources.” “It’s a small industry,” she said with a light chuckle. “We were wondering if you’re open to new opportunities. We actually have an opening for an Infrastructure Director. The base salary starts at three hundred thousand, plus equity. We’d love to discuss it.” Three hundred thousand. More than triple what I was making at Horizon. “Fiona, how did you even know who I was?” “To be frank, we’ve been watching the infrastructure setup at Horizon for a long time. Your work speaks for itself in our circles.” I remained quiet. “If you’re free, we’d love to grab coffee and chat.” “Let me think about it,” I said. I hung up. The day was starting to feel surreal. This morning, I was an eighty-thousand-a-year IT guy. Now, a competitor was offering me three hundred thousand to lead their team. And just eight hours ago, a wealthy girl had used my career as a cheap prop to play relationship games with her insecure boyfriend. Life is a weird, dark comedy. 4 The next morning, I grabbed a coffee and a croissant from the bakery down the street. I sat on a park bench to eat. The morning sun was pleasant, and nearby, an old man was walking a corgi. The corgi’s wobbly walk was surprisingly therapeutic to watch. My phone rang. Ray. “Luke, everything is burning down.” “Not my problem, Ray.” “No, listen to me. The entire intranet portal collapsed this morning.” I took a bite of my croissant. “How bad?” “The SSL certificates expired. Every single browser-based internal system is throwing security warnings. No one can log in. Pete spent the whole night trying to fix it, and now two hundred employees are sitting at their desks staring at blank screens. Nobody can do a damn thing.” “The renewal process is fully detailed in the handover docs.” “Pete says he can’t understand the script.” “Again, not my problem.” Ray sighed. “Look, there’s more. Do you know how much stuff the company realized you were managing only after you walked out?” “How much?” “I ran an audit. The internal portal, the mail servers, the shared drives, three external client APIs, the financial database, the security gate system, the timecard tracker, the conference room booking system, the VPN… seventeen core systems in total.” “Yeah. I built them.” “The issue is, when you built them, the company never officially classified them as separate assets. Your job description was literally just one line: ‘Responsible for general IT infrastructure maintenance.’” “So they thought firing me just meant getting rid of a guy who replaces keyboards.” “…Exactly.” I laughed. I actually laughed out loud. Right there on the bench, with half a croissant in my mouth, choking slightly on my coffee. The corgi got startled and trotted away. “And then what happened?” “Then Sinclair called an emergency board meeting this morning. He apparently ripped Administration and HR a new one. Audrey took the brunt of it because she signed your non-compete waiver.” “Audrey was just following standard procedure.” “Sinclair doesn’t care. He thinks she let the golden goose walk.” “I’m hardly a golden goose.” “Well, you are to Horizon right now. Zenith is already boasting that they’re recruiting you. Did you know that?” “I got a call yesterday.” Ray’s tone shifted, becoming more complex. “Luke, did you plan this?” “What do you mean?” “The ten-minute exit. Did you calculate that they wouldn’t react in time?” I took another sip of coffee. “Ray, do you really think an employee who gets casually discarded as a pawn needs to spend his time worrying about the company’s operational safety?” He didn’t reply. “And honestly,” I added, “I didn’t plan anything. I just didn’t care.” “A guy earning eighty thousand, treated like a ghost in the corner, gets laid off. So he signs the papers, packs his box, and leaves. That’s standard. They just forgot that the ghost was the one holding up the ceiling.” Ray remained silent for a long moment. “You’re cold, man,” he finally muttered. I smiled but didn’t argue. Finished my breakfast, threw the trash away, and heard my phone buzz again. A new contact request on my personal messaging app. The name: Sienna. The message: Mr. Benson, do you have a moment to talk? I stared at it for a few seconds. Accept. She typed back almost instantly. “Mr. Benson, I am so incredibly sorry about yesterday. I really didn’t think it through.” “Okay.” “My dad said we can offer you a promotion, a massive raise, whatever terms you want.” “Your dad already called me yesterday.” “Then why didn’t you accept??” Two question marks. I could picture the frustrated pout on her face. “Because I don’t see the point.” “What do you mean you don’t see the point?” “I don’t see the point in coming back.” A long pause. Then she sent a massive block of text. “Please let me explain. That layoff notice was truly just a stupid show for Zach. He’s been so insecure lately, constantly questioning why I had to contact you to troubleshoot things. I thought if he saw your name on the list, he’d drop it and feel secure. I was going to have HR quietly reinstate you this afternoon. I had no idea you’d sign everything and leave in ten minutes!” Reading her words, a profound sense of absurdity washed over me. Here was her logical chain: Boyfriend gets jealous -> Boyfriend is upset -> Put an innocent employee on a layoff list -> Pretend to fire him -> Reassure boyfriend -> Call employee back -> Act like nothing happened. In this entire equation, “Luke Benson” wasn’t a human being. I was a prop. A disposable tool. Something to be used and discarded without a second thought. “Miss Sinclair, I understand your reasoning.” “So you’ll—” “But did you ever consider a very simple possibility?” “What?” “That if you casually fire someone, they might actually choose not to come back?” “But why wouldn’t you—” “And yet, here we are.” She sent a sweating, awkward emoji. I couldn’t tell if she actually felt bad or was just out of arguments. “Mr. Benson, name your price.” “I’m not for sale.” “What??” “I said, I’m not for sale. I’m not a piece of inventory, Miss Sinclair. You don’t get to pull me off the shelf, use me, and then try to put me back when you realize you made a mess.” This time, the silence lasted so long I thought the conversation was over. Then, she sent one last message. “If you don’t come back, my dad is going to be furious with me. And honestly, it won’t look good for your reputation in this industry if you burn bridges like this.” Looking at the screen, a strange feeling washed over me. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t resentment. It was a clear sense of validation. Validation that leaving was the absolutely correct choice. “Miss Sinclair, is that a plea for help, or a threat?” She didn’t reply. I slipped my phone into my pocket, stood up, and brushed the crumbs off my jeans. The sky was still blue. Day two of freedom was turning out to be great. 5 Day three of unemployment. I spent the morning cleaning the apartment, dusting off the bookshelves, and setting up a folding chair on the balcony with a hot mug of coffee. The morning sun was warming my face. For three years, I had never realized how beautiful the morning light was on my balcony at 9:00 AM. Mainly because I was usually crammed into a crowded subway car at this hour. My phone rang. Fiona from Zenith Solutions. “Luke, have you had a chance to think about our offer?” “Fiona, let me ask you something first.” “Of course.” “How did you guys find out I was laid off so quickly? You called me literally half an hour after I signed the papers.” She let out a soft laugh. “To be frank, Luke, we have our eyes on Horizon. Word of your exit leaked within thirty minutes of you signing that waiver.” Thirty minutes. A major competitor knew about my termination within half an hour. Horizon’s internal security was practically a sieve. “Would you be open to dropping by our office tomorrow at two? It’s not a formal interview, just an informal chat with our leadership.” “Sure, I can do that.” I hung up and took a sip of my coffee. Before it could even cool down, a loud car horn blared from the street below. A moment later, my apartment buzzer rang. I got up and checked the security camera. Standing at my door was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit, a luxury watch on his wrist, and hair styled with military precision. He was handsome in a generic, catalog-model sort of way. But there was an undeniable sneer playing on his lips. I opened the door. “Are you Luke Benson?” his voice was dripping with arrogance. “And you are?” “Zachary.” Sienna’s boyfriend. The jealous guy. The indirect catalyst for my sudden unemployment. I looked him up and down. “What do you want?” He tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at me. “I’m here to make things clear. Stay away from Sienna.” I blinked, momentarily speechless. It was fascinating how reality could sometimes be cheesier than a bad reality show. “Look, man,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m already unemployed. You know that, right?” “I do.” “Then coming to my apartment to tell me to stay away from your girlfriend seems a bit… unnecessary.” “I just want to make sure you don’t try to crawl back,” he said, stepping closer. “Guys like you get fired and then try to play the victim to get back in her good graces. I’m just setting boundaries early.” I laughed. Not a bitter laugh, but a genuine chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it. “Zachary, my entire relationship with your girlfriend consists of fixing her laptop twice. Once because her MacBook wouldn’t connect to a projector, and once because she spilled coffee on her keyboard. We’ve spoken maybe twenty words to each other. I have zero interest in her.” He frowned, clearly not believing me. “Then why did she put your name on the layoff list?” “You’d have to ask her that.” “I did. She said she did it to make me feel secure.” “And do you?” He didn’t answer. But his tense posture said it all. “So what is this?” I asked, tilting my head. “You came to a laid-off employee’s apartment to mark your territory? Are you living in a movie, Zachary?” His face flushed red. “Watch your mouth—” “I’m being serious. Did you tell your girlfriend you were coming here?” He stiffened. “No.” “So you snuck over here to threaten her ex-coworker.” I nodded slowly. “You know what that is?” “What?” “A psychological issue. It’s called pathological control.” I said it calmly. “Your girlfriend used an innocent man’s livelihood as a toy to appease your insecurities, and now you’re showing up at my door to puff your chest. The two of you deserve each other.” Zachary’s fists clenched tightly, a vein pulsing on his temple. But he didn’t swing. Whether it was to preserve his expensive suit or because he was calculating the legal cost of an assault charge, he held back. “You’ll regret this,” he spat out. “Doubt it.” “Horizon can blackball you from this entire industry with one phone call.” “Is that so? Someone else tried to warn me about that yesterday.” “Who?” “Your girlfriend.” Zachary’s jaw tightened. “You both have the exact same script,” I said, stepping back to close the door. “It’s actually kind of sweet. Match made in heaven.” “You—” “Have a safe drive back, Zach.” I shut the door. Through the peephole, I watched him stand in the hallway for a few seconds before kicking the wall in frustration. He winced, clearly hurting his foot, and limped away. I leaned against the door, reflecting on a simple truth. The worst part of being a regular guy in corporate life isn’t a lack of talent. It’s being treated as background noise while rich people play their games. They fight, they make up, they play power games, and they never once stop to think about the people they trample on. But that was fine. From now on, I wasn’t going to be anyone’s background prop.

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1 Nicknames littered my childhood. Clumsy. Space cadet. Social disaster. My best friend and girlfriend claimed they were affectionate, reserved for those who loved me most. During a quarterly presentation, my girlfriend called me “Clumsy” before the whole office. Laughter erupted; the director frowned. My face burned as I stumbled through the slides. My friend just ruffled my hair. “Don’t mind her. You are a bit slow.” On a retreat, she mocked my nervous stutter. He laughed hardest, adding, “Stop, she’s sensitive,” even as he saved a video of it to his favorites. Last week, I closed a million-dollar deal alone. At dinner, she toasted, “Our little space cadet!” The client’s expression soured. Later, they killed the deal. In my car, crying, my friend tapped the window with a tissue. “Don’t cry. Just don’t let her drink next time.” I wiped my eyes, submitted my resignation on Slack, and tossed the tissue back. Eight years, from high school to now. I once thought we’d go far. I rolled up the window and started the engine. Congratulations, Agnes. You finally learned to walk alone. … “Who approved your resignation?” Owen’s voice came through the receiver, calm and casual, as if he were asking what I wanted for lunch. I wedged the phone between my shoulder and my ear, continuing to pack clothes into my suitcase. “HR did. Standard procedure.” “I told you not to do anything rash.” He paused, his tone softening slightly. “I can help you talk to the client about the deal. I still have some leverage with their manager.” I zipped up the suitcase and looked at the one-way ticket to London sitting on the desk. “No need, Owen.” “What are you even doing?” A hint of impatience finally crept into his voice. “You’ve known Susan since high school. You know she speaks without thinking. Is it really worth all this drama?” Is it worth it? A million-dollar account, three months of follow-ups, forty-seven emails, eleven draft revisions. And he was asking me if it was worth it. “I’m not dramatic,” I said, sliding the passport and ticket into the side pocket of my backpack. “I just want a change of scenery.” “A change of scenery? Your college English was barely conversational. Where are you even going?” I didn’t answer. He let out another sigh, that familiar, patronizing sigh I had heard a thousand times. “Fine. Cool off for a couple of days. Susan and I will take you out for dinner this weekend so we can talk things through.” “I won’t be here this weekend.” A brief silence followed on the other end of the line. “What does that mean?” “My flight is the day after tomorrow.” This time, the silence lasted much longer. I could hear him rustling around, probably looking for his lighter. “Where?” “London. A friend’s company has an opening, and I’m going to try out for it.” “Are you…” He sounded choked up. “Are you serious?” I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were still slightly puffy, my lips dry, my entire face washed out and tired. “I am.” “Agnes.” He used my full name, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you just trying to get a rise out of me?” I almost laughed. For eight years, he had always assumed every decision I made was just an emotional tantrum. “No.” “Then explain it to me. Why are you suddenly packing up and leaving?” Why? Because you and Susan teamed up to turn me into a running joke, and you didn’t even realize how much it hurt. Because every milestone I reached was easily brushed away by her casual, demeaning remarks, while you always took her side, telling me “she didn’t mean anything by it.” Because I was finally exhausted. But I didn’t say any of that. “I just want to see the world.” “By yourself? You get lost taking the subway in Chicago…” “I have to go,” I cut him off. “I still have packing to do.” “Agnes…” I pressed the end call button. The moment my screen went dark, a message from Susan popped up. “Agnes! I heard you’re quitting? What a joke, haha! What are you going to do without me and Owen? Stop playing around. Let’s hang out this weekend. I’ll buy you dinner to make up for it, okay?” She followed it with a string of cute, pleading emojis. I stared at the words What are you going to do without me and Owen for a long time. I didn’t reply. I tossed my phone onto the bed and dragged my suitcase into the living room. On the coffee table lay a shiny butterfly hair clip that Susan had left behind last week. I picked it up and threw it straight into the trash can. The doorbell rang. I opened it, and there she was. Susan stood on the doormat, wearing a cream-colored knit dress, her hair styled in loose waves, holding a bag of fresh fruit. “You’re actually packing?” She peered past me into the apartment, her eyes widening in exaggerated shock. “Oh my god, Agnes. Are you seriously leaving?” I stepped aside to let her in. She placed the fruit on the coffee table, turned around, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Is this because of what happened at dinner? I told you I had too much to drink, Agnes. You wouldn’t really leave just because of that, would you?” Her voice trailed off as she looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “What am I supposed to do if you leave?” That was Susan. She always knew exactly when to play the victim, making sure everyone else looked like the bully. “It has nothing to do with you,” I said. “I just wanted to go.” She looked up, her teary eyes wide. “Really? You’re not mad at me?” “No.” “Then… can you stay?” She grabbed my hand, her nails painted a soft cherry blossom pink. “Or at least wait until Owen gets back? He can definitely help you find a way to…” “Susan,” I gently pulled my hand back. “My flight is at six o’clock the day after tomorrow.” She froze. Something flickered deep within those pretty eyes, vanishing so quickly I couldn’t catch it. Then, she smiled and reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Then I have to come to the airport to see you off.” “You don’t…” “I have to,” she insisted, looking at me with absolute sincerity. “You’re my best friend.” My best friend. As she said those words, I remembered her calling me “clumsy” in front of our key clients. I remembered her impression video being shared and laughed at hundreds of times. I remembered the exact moment Owen laughed the loudest. “Whatever,” I said. She gave me a tight hug, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Agnes, don’t you dare forget about me once you’re over there.” I kept quiet. As she let go, my phone buzzed on the bed. It was a message from Owen. “I don’t approve of this.” Five words. No punctuation. I stared at it for two seconds, then locked the screen. 2 After Susan left, I continued packing. I reached into the very back of my closet and pulled out a dusty metal tin. Inside were the scraps of the last eight years. A birthday card Owen had written for me in high school: Happy birthday, Agnes. I hope you grow braver and braver. A braided friendship bracelet Susan had made, a red cord with a tiny bead. She had told me it was a lifetime bond, something we’d never take off. And photos. Dozens of photos of the three of us. I was always standing on the very edge, smiling the hardest. I placed the metal box on the top shelf of the closet, a spot I could barely reach. I wouldn’t take it with me, but I wouldn’t throw it away either. At 11:00 PM, Owen called again. I didn’t pick up. He sent six messages, which I ignored. The seventh was a voice note. My finger brushed against the screen, and his voice filled the quiet room. “Agnes, you’ve ignored my calls six times now. Are you trying to start a fight? If you have something to say, just say it. Stop with the silent treatment.” Silent treatment. I let out a bitter laugh. Me quietly packing my bags was the “silent treatment.” But what did you call eight years of mocking me in public? Playful teasing? I turned off my phone and had the best night of sleep I’d had in months. The next day was my last day before the flight. I went to the office to finish my exit clearance. My desk was completely cleared, save for a sticky note left by the colleague sitting next to me. Agnes, wishing you the absolute best. Don’t look back (in a good way). I peeled it off, tucked it into my pocket, and headed to HR to sign the final papers. When I stepped out of the elevator, I ran right into Owen. He was standing in the lobby, dressed in a sharp suit, hands in his pockets, looking at me with a complicated expression. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I came to pick you up.” “I don’t need a ride.” He blocked my path, looking down at me. “Agnes, can you please talk to me like a normal person?” “I am talking to you normally.” He frowned, reaching out to pat my hair, just like he had done for the last eight years. I stepped back, avoiding his touch. His hand froze in midair. “You’re actually furious,” he said, slowly lowering his hand. “I already told you, I can talk to the client again…” “The deal is dead, Owen,” I interrupted. “And that’s worth quitting over?” “Yes.” He took a deep breath, his tone softening into something gentler. “Agnes…” “Don’t call me that.” He choked on his words. In eight years, I had never cut him off like this. He was used to my mild temper, my absolute compliance. He was used to me nodding along to whatever he said. “Fine,” he said, taking a step back. “Let’s go find a place to sit down and talk, Agnes.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” “You’re flying to London tomorrow. Who do you even know there? You can’t even navigate a new city without getting lost…” “I’ll learn.” He had that look on his face again. Like he was dealing with an unreasonable child, stubborn and immature, someone who constantly needed his guidance. “Susan was crying all day yesterday,” he said suddenly. “She feels like she’s the reason you’re leaving.” I remained quiet for a moment. “Good. She should.” Owen’s face darkened. “What is that supposed to mean? You won’t even accept her apology now?” I looked at him. He was always defending her. When the deal fell through, it was my fault for not keeping her sober. When she humiliated me, it was my fault for being too sensitive. When I quit to start fresh, it was me being dramatic. And now that she was crying, his first instinct was to come and scold me on her behalf. “Owen,” I asked quietly. “Have you ever thought about one thing?” “What?” “If Susan had been the one humiliated in front of the clients that night, would you have told her to just ‘make sure Agnes doesn’t drink as much next time’?” He froze. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. I stepped around him and pushed through the heavy glass doors of the lobby. The bright afternoon sun made my eyes water. Behind me, his footsteps hurried to catch up. “Agnes, what time is your flight tomorrow? I’ll drive you to the airport.” “Don’t worry about it.” “I’ll drive you,” he repeated, a touch of authority slipping into his tone. I didn’t turn back. “Just drive Susan instead.” The moment I left the office grounds, I let out a long breath. For the first time in eight years, the road ahead didn’t feel so daunting. When I got home, a bouquet of sunflowers sat on my kitchen counter. They were my favorite. The card was written in Susan’s neat, loopy handwriting: Agnes, let us take you to the airport tomorrow. No excuses! Promise me we’ll be best friends forever. I picked up the bouquet and threw it straight into the trash. Right on top of her butterfly hair clip. 3 My alarm went off three times at 4:00 AM before I finally dragged myself out of bed. After a quick shower, I rolled my suitcase out into the dark hallway. The elevator doors slid open, and Susan was already standing inside. She was wearing a pink hoodie, her hair thrown up in a messy bun, completely makeup-free, with dark circles under her eyes. “Oh, thank god. I thought you might sneak down the fire stairs to avoid us,” she said with a bright laugh, reaching out to grab my suitcase handle. “Come on, Owen is waiting downstairs.” I looked at her. “I told you guys I didn’t need a ride.” “Oh, stop being like that,” she said, dragging me along by the arm. “You’re leaving, and we don’t even know when you’ll be back. Let us do this for you.” Downstairs, Owen’s car was idling under a streetlamp, headlights cutting through the early morning fog. He got out, quietly loaded my suitcase into the trunk, and opened the door for us without saying much. The ride was incredibly quiet. Susan sat in the passenger seat, and I sat in the back. Ten minutes into the drive, she turned around to look at me. “Agnes, make sure you eat properly when you get there. Your stomach has always been sensitive.” “I will.” “And don’t overwork yourself. You get stressed easily, and too much pressure keeps you awake at night.” “I know.” “FaceTime me whenever you miss me. What’s the time difference again? Five hours? When you’re waking up, I’ll just be getting off work…” “Susan,” Owen interrupted quietly. “Let her rest.” Susan pouted slightly and turned back around. In the rearview mirror, I caught Owen’s gaze drifting back to me for a fraction of a second. I shifted my eyes toward the window, watching the streetlights blur past. When we reached O’Hare, Owen pushed my luggage cart while Susan kept her arm linked through mine. Just like old times, the three of us walking together. Only this time, I was in the middle, not trailing behind. Because this was the last time. At the check-in desk, I grabbed my boarding pass. Susan threw her arms around me, holding me tight. “You absolute idiot,” she mumbled, burying her face in my shoulder. “Who’s going to go shopping with me now?” I patted her back gently. “You have Owen.” She let go of me, wiping a tear from her eye. She shot a look at Owen, giving him a subtle nudge. Owen stepped forward, holding a brown paper bag in his hands. “Some snacks for the flight, and…” He hesitated for a second. “Text me when you land safely.” I took the bag and nodded. Then I turned around and walked toward security. “Agnes.” His voice called out from behind me. I stopped, but I didn’t turn back. “If things don’t work out over there, you can always come back.” There was a slight tremor in his voice, a faint hint of worry. But only a hint. Because deep down, he still believed I’d return. He still believed I couldn’t survive without them. He had believed that for eight years. I didn’t say a word. I just dragged my carry-on bag into the security line. As the line moved forward, I glanced back one last time. From a distance, I saw Susan talking animatedly to Owen, gesturing wildly with her hands. Owen was looking down at his phone, typing away. They didn’t look particularly sad. It was the relaxed posture of two people who had just sent a friend out to grab groceries, fully expecting her to return shortly. I turned around. Gate B12. I found my seat on the plane, buckled in, and opened the brown bag Owen had given me. A sandwich, a bottle of water, a pack of mints. And at the very bottom, a sticky note. Written in Susan’s rounded, bubbly handwriting: Hey space cadet! The world out there is pretty scary. We know you won’t last long before you start missing us, but don’t worry, Owen and I will be waiting to welcome you home! (ᵔᴥᵔ) I stared at the words for a long time. As the plane began taxiing down the runway, I ripped the note in half and stuffed it deep into the seatback trash bag. Twelve hours later, I touched down at Heathrow. I turned on my phone, and a barrage of thirty-seven notifications popped up, mostly Susan’s emojis and frantic voice messages. Owen had sent just one: Let me know when you arrive. I replied with a simple: Arrived. Then I closed the app. My college roommate, Naomi, was waiting for me at the arrivals gate, holding up a cardboard sign with a funny, terrible drawing of a stick figure. “Agnes, welcome to your brand new life!” I dragged my suitcase toward her, feeling the cool, damp London breeze on my face. I took a deep breath. New air. And absolutely no one here was going to call me a space cadet. 4 During my first week in London, jet lag kept me awake at odd hours. Awake at 3:00 AM, I sat on the window sill of my rented room, staring at the streetlamps outside. My phone screen lit up. Susan had updated her social media, posting a gallery of nine photos, all of her and Owen. At a diner, a movie theater, a shopping mall. The caption read: Agnes leaving has made life so boring. Had to drag this guy out to keep me company. You’re responsible for my entertainment now, Owen! In the comments, mutual friends from back home were teasing: “Are these two finally going to make it official?” “The childhood sweethearts are over, is the best friend stepping in?” “Did Agnes leaving finally clear the path? lol.” Owen had replied to one comment: Don’t talk nonsense. Susan had reacted with a blushing emoji. I stared at the screen, trying to process the feeling. It wasn’t jealousy. It was a cold, quiet sense of finality. My departure hadn’t left a void in their lives; it had completed them. Without the clumsy third wheel hovering around, they could finally slide into place next to each other. Naomi walked in, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. “Why are you awake staring at your phone…” She glanced at the screen. “Is that your ex-friend and the childhood sweetheart?” “Yeah.” Naomi handed me a mug. “Turn it off. Tomorrow is your first day of work.” I took a sip of the sweet, warm drink, letting the heat burn the tip of my tongue. I put Susan’s notifications on mute. And Owen’s too. My first day at the new office was a blur of unfamiliarity. The fast-paced environment, new faces, and a completely different workflow. During the meetings, I took frantic notes, trying my best to keep up. But nobody laughed. Nobody imitated my nervous stutter. Nobody looked at a successful task I completed and said, “Wow, she actually pulled it off.” At lunch, a colleague complimented a specific detail in my marketing proposal. It was a simple, normal piece of professional feedback. But it almost made me tear up. I worked late that night, leaving the office around 9:00 PM. On the tube home, I received a message from Owen. “It’s been a week. How are you settling in? Is the work okay?” I replied: “It’s fine.” He quickly typed back: “Susan said you muted her posts. She’s really hurt by that.” I didn’t reply. He sent another: “Agnes, what are you still mad about? She already apologized.” Always the same script. She was hurt, so I had to be the one to soften. She apologized, so I had to be the one to forgive. But what about the million-dollar account I lost? What about the dignity I stripped away in front of my peers? What about the eight years of quiet humiliation? None of that mattered. Because I was Agnes. Agnes was slow, Agnes was sensitive, Agnes was easy to appease. Agnes would never stay mad. I closed the chat, opened my work email, and began preparing for the next morning’s presentation. Two weeks passed, then three, then four. I slowly found my rhythm in London. The work became second nature, and my turnaround time for strategy drafts cut in half. Naomi pointed out that I was smiling a lot more. Owen’s messaging patterns began to shift too. It went from once a day, to three times a day, to constant updates morning, noon, and night. It started as casual check-ins, but quickly grew invasive. “Who did you have lunch with today?” “Is your new teammate a guy or a girl?” “It’s the weekend. Why aren’t you replying to my texts?” I kept my replies brief, or ignored them altogether. By the fifth week, at 4:00 AM London time, my phone began to buzz with an incoming FaceTime call from him. 5 I let it ring, refusing to answer. Then came a text message: “Agnes, I need to talk to you.” “Talk tomorrow. I’m asleep.” “Now.” I let out a slow sigh, sat up in bed, and accepted the call. On screen, Owen was sitting on his balcony, the city lights of Chicago sparkling behind him. He looked exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes. His collar was unbuttoned, his hair messy, as if he had been running his hands through it all night. “Agnes.” “Yeah.” He stared at his screen for several seconds, just looking at me. “Are you ever coming back?” “I like it here.” “I didn’t ask if you liked it,” his voice dropped, turning sharp. “I asked if you’re coming back.” “Not anytime soon.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, he said something I completely didn’t expect. “Susan confessed to me.” The air in my room seemed to freeze. “Last week,” he continued, his tone flat. “She said she’s always had feelings for me.” My fingers gripped the edge of my blanket tightly. “And… did you accept?” He didn’t say anything. And that silence was all the answer I needed. I felt a sudden wave of self-deprecation wash over me. The last lingering, foolish hope I had carried in my heart for years shattered completely. He wasn’t calling because he missed me. He was calling to tell me this, expecting me to play the role of the mature, supportive childhood friend who would offer her blessing. “Congratulations,” I said, forcing a small smile. Across the screen, he seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding. “You’re not upset?” I shook my head. “Agnes—” “Agnes,” I corrected him. He froze again. “Right. Well, Susan wanted me to apologize to you again. She hopes that when you come back, the three of us can still…” “I’m not coming back.” His expression hardened. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means I’m not coming back, Owen.” Outside my window, the London sky was beginning to pale. I looked at the face that had been the center of my world for eight years, and smiled softly. “Goodbye.” I ended the call. His stunned expression was the last thing I saw before the screen went black. It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t indifference. It was the look of a man who had suddenly realized that something he took entirely for granted was actually, truly gone. I couldn’t fall back asleep after that. The next morning, I dragged myself into the office with heavy eyes. Naomi noticed immediately and quietly handed me a double espresso. “The dynamic duo again?” “For the last time,” I promised. She nodded, letting the subject drop. The work week flew by in a blur of meetings and tight deadlines. My role in the cross-border e-commerce division required me to negotiate directly with international clients. My spoken English, hesitant at first, grew sharper and more confident with every call. During our weekly review, the director singled out my latest project proposal, praising its clear data and unique perspective. Nobody chimed in to say, “Wow, she actually managed to do that.” It was just normal, professional recognition. When I stood up to thank the team, my voice was steady and completely clear. Later that afternoon, I received an unexpected message. It wasn’t from Owen, and it wasn’t from Susan. It was from Tristan, our high school class president. “Agnes? I heard you’re in London. I’m heading there next week for a business trip. Free for dinner?” Tristan. He had sat behind me in high school before heading off to Cambridge for his master’s degree, eventually landing a job in the financial district. We weren’t incredibly close back then, but we weren’t strangers either. It was a refreshing, uncomplicated connection. No nicknames, no teasing, just a polite “thanks” whenever we shared study notes. “Sure,” I replied. On Friday night, he took me to a quiet restaurant overlooking the Thames. Dressed in a sharp suit, he was a head taller than he had been in high school, but his warm smile was exactly the same. “You’ve changed a lot,” he said, handing me the menu. “You seem much more confident.” “Do I?” “In high school, you barely made eye contact when you spoke. Now, you hold your head high.” I looked down at the menu, feeling my ears warm slightly. “I think it’s just the environment.” “What kind of environment?” “One where nobody calls me space cadet.” He paused, his fork hovering. “Who called you that?” “Nobody important,” I smiled. “Just old history.” The dinner was effortless. We talked about our careers, life in London, and old school memories. Not a single word made me feel small or self-conscious. When the bill came, he reached for it. “Let me know if you ever need anything while you’re here. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.” “Thanks, Tristan.” On the way back, I posted my very first photo of London on social media. It was a shot of the Thames at night, captioned: Dinner with an old friend. London nights are beautiful. Five minutes later, Susan’s comment appeared. “Oh wow, Agnes has a new friend! Is it a guy? Make sure you don’t get scammed over there, you’ve always been so terrible at reading people…” I stared at the comment for two seconds, then deleted it. Three minutes later, Owen called. I let it ring out. Then came his text: “Who did you have dinner with?” “A former classmate.” “A guy or a girl?” “How is that any of your business?” The chat remained silent for several minutes. Then he sent: “Agnes, Susan and I aren’t together.” I blinked. “Didn’t you say she confessed to you?” “She did, but I didn’t say yes.” “…You didn’t say anything when I asked last time.” “You asked if I accepted, and before I could explain, you hung up,” his text read, sounding slightly defensive. I leaned back against the taxi seat, watching the city lights blur outside the window. How typical. His silence was a “no” in his head, but to me, it was a default “yes.” Because he never bothered to explain himself. Because he always assumed I would just wait and understand. “What’s the point of telling me this now?” I typed back. He didn’t reply immediately. After a long pause, he sent: “Agnes, there are things I hadn’t figured out before.” “And have you figured them out now?” “I’m trying to.” “Take your time then.” I locked my phone. The taxi pulled up to my apartment building. It was 11:00 PM. The night wind was cold, but my mind was remarkably clear. It wasn’t that I didn’t care anymore. It was just that I no longer needed his answers. When I walked upstairs, Naomi was curled up on the couch watching a show. “Back from your date?” “It wasn’t a date.” “Right, right, not a date,” she said without looking up. “Your phone has been buzzing off the hook, by the way.” I checked my phone. Susan had sent a long voice message. I clicked play, listened to the first second, and paused it. “Agnes, did you seriously block me? What is your problem with deleting my comments? I was just trying to look out for you…” I marked the message as read and closed the app. That night, I slept peacefully, without a single dream.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “527596”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the middle of the zombie apocalypse, I found myself a massive, dim witted bodyguard. He possessed the strength of a god and the obedience of a golden retriever. He spoiled me rotten, letting me play the absolute worst kind of pampered princess. Just as I threw away the dry ration bar he had risked his life to find, whining that I wanted a strawberry shortcake instead, a stream of floating text suddenly materialized in my vision. [Look at this chick treating the future Zombie King like a stray dog.] [Benjamin is just in his evolutionary phase. His mind is foggy, and he’s mistaking this toxic girl for the sweet kid who lived next door to him growing up.] [Joke’s on her. Benjamin has been secretly in love with the actual female lead for years. Once he finishes mutating tonight and gets his sanity back, he is absolutely going to tear this fake to pieces and feed her to the horde!] I stared at the floating text, my jaw practically hitting the floor. Right at that moment, Benjamin walked back in. He looked like he had taken a nasty fall. Crimson tracked down his forehead, and his jacket was shredded. Yet, his hands were carefully cupping a horribly smashed strawberry shortcake, offering it to me like a sacred relic. “Luna… eat the cake.” The catch? The campus beauty, my beloved sister, was the one named Luna. 1 I stiffly lowered my gaze to the hulking guy crouching in front of me. He was still holding out his prized possession. Because I was taking too long to react, a flicker of panic crossed his dark eyes. “Luna… you don’t like cake anymore?” “Tell me what you want… I will go find it.” My brain violently rebooted. The floating comments just said Benjamin was the Zombie King. And that he was getting his sanity back tonight. Thinking about how I had been acting like a total brat these past few days, demanding the impossible and treating him like dirt, a cold shiver crawled up my spine. I was a dead woman walking. My eyes slowly drifted down to the pulverized strawberry cake. I forced the corners of my mouth up into the most painful smile of my life. “I love it.” I reached out and took the cake, my voice coming out so sickly sweet it gave me goosebumps. “Benjamin, you are so good to me.” Survival rule number one. Stop the abuse immediately and start sucking up. Maybe if I buttered him up enough, he would be slightly less inclined to rip my head off when he woke up tomorrow. Benjamin lowered his head, the tips of his ears turning a bright, burning red. Even smeared with blood and grime, his face was absurdly handsome. Strong brow bone, straight nose. His cognitive fog usually made him look a bit slow, but right now, with his dark hair falling over his eyes, there was something wildly magnetic about him. I swallowed hard. But I snapped out of it a second later. Now was not the time to be thirsty. The man kneeling in front of me was the future ruler of the undead, and I was apparently on his menu. The text was still scrolling in front of my eyes. [Oh, now she’s scared? Too late.] [She’s been bossing him around all week!] [She made the literal Zombie King fetch water, wash her dirty laundry, make her bed, and she even uses his abs as a personal heater at night!] [Treating the apex predator of the apocalypse like a pool boy. Bold move.] I was speechless. Suddenly, the cake in my hands lost all its appeal. Seeing my hesitation, Benjamin asked cautiously, “Luna… is it too dirty? The blood didn’t touch the frosting.” That was when I noticed the back of his head. It was completely coated in blood, with thick red trails running down his neck. I set the cake down and immediately grabbed his wrist. “How did you get hurt this badly?” Benjamin stared at me blankly. He really wasn’t used to me showing actual concern. And to be fair, I had been awful to him. If I didn’t like the crackers he found, I tossed them on the floor and told him to try again. If I thought the tap water tasted weird, I made him risk his life navigating the infested administration building just to get me bottled water. Whenever I got cold, I ordered him to get into my sleeping bag and warm it up with his body. Sometimes I complained that his jacket smelled and forced him to take it off entirely. And Benjamin always listened. He would just blush, pull his shirt up, and let me press my freezing hands against his stomach. Looking back at my endless list of crimes, my vision actually swam. But this was my chance for redemption. I scrambled to find my meager stash of medical supplies and pushed him down into a chair. “Don’t move.” “I am going to patch you up.” Benjamin sat obediently. His massive frame hunched forward slightly, making him look like a very well trained mastiff. I soaked a cotton swab in iodine and gently cleaned the blood from his scalp. The terrifying part was that the wound was already closing. A thin, pale scab had already formed over what should have been a fatal gash. My eyes darkened. The floating comments were right. He wasn’t human anymore. 2 My mind raced, and on cue, tears welled up in my eyes. Benjamin instantly froze. “Luna?” I kept my head down, letting my voice tremble. “Today is my birthday.” I hugged the crushed cake to my chest, letting the tears fall thick and fast. “My family never celebrates my birthday.” “This is the first time I have ever had a birthday cake since I went back home.” “Thank you, Benjamin.” 3 I wasn’t actually lying. Everyone at school knew the campus sweetheart, Luna, and I were twin sisters. But the truth was, we shared no blood. When I was seven, I wandered off and got abducted. My mother wept day and night until her mind nearly broke. To save her sanity, my father adopted a girl from the local orphanage and gave her my name. Luna. The bright, beautiful moon. The fake Luna was naturally gorgeous, outgoing, and charming. She quickly smoothed over my mother’s grief and completely took my place. Eventually, no one ever spoke of the lost child again. Eight years later, the police brought me back to my family’s doorstep. I was dangerously skinny, tanned dark from working in the sun, and socially stunted from years of abuse. I was wearing a pair of filthy canvas shoes with holes in the toes. I stood in front of that beautiful suburban mansion, too terrified to take a step inside. My parents stared at me for a long time. It was as if they had suddenly remembered that the perfect, shining daughter standing beside them wasn’t actually theirs. The next day, the family released a statement. The twin sister who had been stolen at birth was finally found. They named me Niki. A star. Just a tiny, insignificant star meant to orbit the moon. Luna insisted on keeping the day she was adopted as her birthday. Naturally, as her supposed twin, my birthday had to be the exact same day. Whenever I mentioned wanting to celebrate my actual birthday, her eyes would well up with tears. “Does Niki not want to be my twin anymore?” she would ask. “If our birthdays are different, everyone will know I am a fake.” My parents hated seeing her upset. From that day on, my real birthday was strictly forbidden in the house. No cake. No flowers. I wasn’t even allowed to mention it to my friends. Eventually, I just stopped celebrating altogether. Honestly, I didn’t care that much. I bumped my head during the kidnapping and lost most of my memories before age five anyway. I didn’t remember what it felt like to be loved by them, so losing it didn’t hurt. Plus, my life now was infinitely better than when I was taken. I had food. I had warm clothes. Nobody beat me. I was satisfied. But right now, I needed to play the ultimate victim card. I needed Benjamin to remember I was a miserable, tragic little thing when he woke up, hoping it would dilute his murderous rage. I cried like my life depended on it. Which it did. “Benjamin.” “You are the very first person to ever buy me a birthday cake.” Benjamin’s heart practically shattered on the spot. He clumsily raised a hand, wanting to touch me but terrified of breaking me. Finally, he used the sleeve of his shirt to gently wipe a tear from my cheek. “Luna… please do not cry.” “I will get you one… every single year.” I buried my face in his chest and wailed even louder. Faking it, obviously. Benjamin held me awkwardly, his large palm patting my back as if I were made of glass. Pressed against his chest, I inhaled the crisp, cool scent of him. There was absolutely no rotting stench like the other zombies outside. Glancing up, I caught a glimpse of the sharp lines of his chest through his torn collar. Lower down, those abs were definitely still there. Lord have mercy. 4 To be fair, there was a reason I ended up relying on a dim witted guy for survival. The day the outbreak hit, the campus descended into absolute chaos. Students started awakening special abilities right and left. Some could throw fireballs. Some got x ray vision to see zombies through walls. Others got super strength and could punch through metal doors. And me? Nothing. Not a single spark. Luna was the center of attention. She had awakened a healing ability. Even though she could only fix minor scratches at the moment, it made her royalty in the apocalypse. She stood in the center of the classroom, comforting everyone with her gentle voice. “We cannot stay trapped in here forever.” “I think we should form a group and go look for rescue.” Everyone immediately agreed. Someone cast a sideways glance at me. “Niki doesn’t have any powers. It is a warzone out there. What if she drags us down?” Luna bit her lip, looking incredibly torn. “Niki… why don’t you stay here where it is safe? Once we find the military, we will come right back for you.” And just like that, they all left. They left me with a single pack of crackers and half a bottle of water. I waited for days. Nobody came back. By the third night, I swallowed the last crumb of my crackers. My stomach was cramping with hunger. I had to risk going out. I shoved aside the desks blocking the classroom door, gripped my baseball bat, and squeezed out into the hallway. The sounds of dragging footsteps echoed through the dark school. I didn’t dare waste time. I made a beeline for the campus minimart downstairs. But just as I rounded the corner, I heard a low, guttural snarl. Three zombies were hunched by the entrance, tearing into something on the floor. I panicked and spun around to run. My foot slipped, and I crashed right into a metal trash can. The noise was deafening. The zombies whipped their heads up. I froze, my body completely paralyzed by terror and starvation. Just as the closest one lunged at me, a wooden desk flew out of nowhere. It smashed into the zombie, sending it flying backward. It didn’t get up. I slowly turned my head. A tall man was standing at the top of the stairs. Broad shoulders, long legs, built like a fighter. His clothes were hanging off him in rags, exposing the dense muscle underneath. He stared at me, a low sound rattling in his throat. I gripped my bat, tears pricking my eyes. With those sounds, he had to be a zombie too. But he just stood there, staring holes into me. Then, very slowly, his ears turned red. “Found… Luna.” I tested the waters. “Can you understand me?” He gave a slow, delayed nod. Okay, so he was just a little slow. I pointed toward the minimart and the remaining zombies. “Then go get me some food.” He actually turned and walked right in. He grabbed a metal chair. One swing, one kill. The zombies dropped like flies. Clean, brutal, and efficient. I watched with my jaw unhinged. And that was the day I picked up my massive, brain damaged bodyguard, and officially began my life as the useless princess of the apocalypse. 5 Benjamin was incredibly useful. His strength was terrifying, and he mowed down zombies like he was cutting grass. And he was so obedient. If I pointed left, he wouldn’t dare look right. I didn’t know why he listened to me, but in the end of the world, you take what you can get. Mimicking the way Luna used to order our maids around back home, I started bossing Benjamin around. He brought me meals, fetched my water, and did whatever I asked. It was liberating. So this was how Luna felt all those years. Having someone wait on you hand and foot was an incredible rush. But a full stomach leads to wandering thoughts. Having a ridiculously attractive guy hovering around me 24/7 was distracting. Especially since his brain was currently offline and he had zero sense of personal boundaries. My inner demons started winning. I used the excuse that the blankets he found were too thin. I told him I was freezing. I ordered him to share my sleeping bag. Benjamin’s metabolism was insane. He ran hotter than a furnace, making him the perfect human space heater. Halfway through the night, I would unconsciously roll over and bury myself in his chest. He would go completely rigid, but he never pushed me away. Eventually, it became a routine. Every night, he would unbutton his shirt and slide into the blankets to preheat them. Once it was warm, he would look down submissively. “Princess Luna. Time for sleep.” 6 Night fell. Benjamin boiled some water for me, double checked the barricades on the windows, and then started hand washing my dirty clothes from the day. Resources were scarce, but thanks to him, I was living better than most billionaires. The floating text popped up again. [Look at him washing her clothes. When the Zombie King gets his memory back, he’s going to literally explode with rage.] [Enjoy it while it lasts, side character. This is your last night.] [Tomorrow, he’s going straight back to the female lead.] [He only loves the real Luna. He’s just confused right now.] Reading that made my stomach tie itself into knots. I just made you do some chores, buddy. Is that really worth a death sentence? I was young. I really didn’t want to die. Benjamin finished the laundry and hung it by the window. He walked over, slid into the sleeping bag, and started warming it up. As soon as he lay down, I instinctively rolled into his arms. I rested my hand on his waist. It was burning hot. I paused. His temperature was always high, but this was like touching a stove. His brow was furrowed in agony, his breathing ragged and harsh. Sweat soaked the fresh bandages on his forehead, and his face was terrifyingly pale. My heart dropped. He was evolving. The comments went wild. [Here it comes!] [The King is waking up!] [She is so dead tomorrow morning.] [I’ve been so mad watching her use him. Can’t wait to see her get what she deserves.] Benjamin let out a low, pained groan. His fingers curled tightly into the fabric of my shirt. “Luna…” “Sweet Luna…” He called the name over and over. His voice was hoarse, tearing from his throat like it physically hurt to speak. I looked down at him, feeling a sudden, strange tightness in my chest. My original plan was to wait until he fell asleep and sneak out into the night. But I couldn’t leave him like this. Whether he was going to kill me tomorrow or not, he had protected me. Without him, I would have starved in that classroom or been torn apart outside the minimart. I let out a heavy sigh. I got up, soaked a towel in cold water, and placed it gently on his forehead. I took another damp cloth and carefully wiped the sweat from his neck and collarbones. His fever kept climbing. His body felt like it was engulfed in invisible flames. But his hand never let go of my shirt. I tried twice to pull free, failed, and finally just sat on the floor next to him. His brows were locked tight in pain as he mumbled through the fever. “Luna…” “Cake…” “Don’t cry…” I lowered my eyes. Benjamin had been so incredibly good to me. I had never felt warmth like this from anyone, let alone during the apocalypse. Under the bridge effect of constant danger, how could I not develop feelings for him? But I also hated myself for catching feelings for someone who wasn’t in his right mind. So I overcompensated by acting like a demanding brat, trying to mask the flutter in my chest. And now, he was about to wake up. It was a shame. I wasn’t his Luna. This fairy tale was stolen. And the clock was about to strike midnight. 7 The sky was just starting to turn gray. Benjamin’s temperature had finally dropped, but he was still asleep. The innocent, vacant look was completely gone from his face. Even unconscious, his sharp features radiated a cold, dangerous edge. I watched him for a long time. Once I was sure he was deeply asleep, I carefully pried my shirt out of his grip. He had spent the entire night calling for his sweet Luna. Now that his mind was returning, the imposter needed to make her exit. I packed the crackers and water I had been secretly hoarding into my backpack. Hey, it was the apocalypse. Did you really think I wouldn’t squirrel away some supplies while I had a superhuman doing my grocery shopping? A girl needs a backup plan. Before I left, I looked at him one last time. He would never again be the sweet, blushing guy who called me his princess. “Benjamin,” I whispered into the quiet room. “The girl you are looking for is the other Luna.” “Thank you for everything. Goodbye.” I grabbed my baseball bat, pushed the door open, and walked out. 8 I had barely made it down to the second floor landing. A low level zombie was shuffling aimlessly at the end of the hall. Its school uniform was stained a rusty, unidentifiable color. Hearing my footsteps, it slowly turned its head. I gripped the bat so hard my knuckles turned white. I prayed to every god and spirit I could think of, and then I charged. My first swing missed the head and slammed into its shoulder. It stumbled, but immediately lunged at me again. I let out a terrified shriek, closed my eyes, and swung blindly. A sickening crack echoed in the hall. I hit the skull. The zombie collapsed and didn’t move again. I leaned heavily against the wall, gasping for air. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the bat. I actually killed one. The first step is always the hardest. If I can do it once, I can do it again. Niki, you can survive this on your own! If the timing wasn’t so terrible, I would have given myself a standing ovation. But my triumph lasted exactly two seconds. The noise had been too loud. From the dark depths of the hallway, a chorus of snarls answered. One. Two. Three. The numbers multiplied rapidly. My scalp went numb. Without a second thought, I turned and sprinted down the stairs. These were basic zombies. Slow and clumsy. They didn’t catch me immediately. I vaulted over a knocked down cabinet by the exit, boots crunching over shattered glass as I burst out of the science building. The wind tore at my lungs like shards of glass. I didn’t dare look back. I just ran. Past the notice boards. Across the empty basketball courts. Out toward the food street by the campus gates. But my stamina was garbage. Back in gym class, a half mile run used to make me dizzy. Running for my life for fifteen straight minutes was my absolute limit. My legs finally gave out, and I slammed hard onto the pavement. The pack was right behind me. The closest one opened its rotting jaw, diving straight for my throat. My mind went completely blank. This was it. I should have just stayed in the room. Getting torn apart by the Zombie King sounded vastly more dignified than this. A split second later, a steel pipe shot through the air from my blind spot. It drove straight through the zombie’s head, pinning it to the asphalt. I stared in shock. Someone rushed forward, grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet. “Niki?” “You’re actually alive?” I looked up into a familiar face. Griffin. Our class president. And the strongest ability user in our old group. He had awakened metal manipulation. He could control steel pipes, doors, knives, anything metallic. He was frowning at me. Behind him stood a group of our classmates. And standing perfectly safe in the center of the group, wearing a pristine white dress, was Luna. Clearly, she had been living very comfortably. The moment she saw me, a flash of genuine shock crossed her face. But a second later, her eyes went red, and she came running toward me. “Niki!” “Oh my god, you’re alive. I’m so happy.” 9 Luna hugged me tight, crying her eyes out. It wasn’t until the rest of the group stepped in to comfort her that she finally let go, dabbing at her red eyes. “I’m so sorry, Niki,” she sobbed. “We wanted to go back for you, but the campus was suddenly swarming. We couldn’t break through.” “The military rescue never came, so we had to set up a camp in an office building nearby.” “I spent every night thinking you were…” She broke off, choking on her tears. The guys in the group immediately swarmed her with sympathy. “It’s okay, Luna. Don’t blame yourself.” “It was a nightmare back then. Nobody could have saved everyone.” I kept my head down and said nothing. Griffin looked me over. “Any bites?” I shook my head. “No.” He jutted his chin toward the girls. “Check her.” After two girls took me into a nearby shop for a thorough inspection, I was allowed into the group. They had just finished their supply run for the day and were heading back to their base. I was shoved to the very back of the formation. I was assigned rear guard duty alongside two guys who had defensive earth abilities. One of them tossed a rock hard piece of bread at my chest. “Eat up. For someone with zero powers, you’re lucky you’re getting this.” I caught the bread. There was a patch of green mold on the crust. I silently picked the mold off and shoved the rest into my mouth. It tasted like cardboard. Worse than the dry rations Benjamin used to bring me. But I knew the reality. Aside from the sweet, confused Benjamin, nobody in this world was going to cater to me. I suddenly missed him. But I killed the thought instantly. He was awake now. He was probably out looking for Luna. Or maybe he was tracking me down to snap my neck. The floating text returned right on schedule. [Bet the side character realizes how good she had it now.] [Without the King, she’s literally trash.] [She was smart to run when she did, though. The King’s awakening is starting.] [Every zombie within a hundred miles is going to be drawn to his aura. In a week, this entire sector is going to be ground zero for a massive horde.] My boots stopped dead on the pavement. What? A hundred miles? Ground zero? I turned my head stiffly. Far in the distance, back toward the science building, a low, continuous roar was building. The sound was getting denser by the second. 10 I wanted to warn the group to evacuate immediately. Luckily, Griffin was already planning to move the camp to the Southern Sanctuary. They were just gathering the last of their road supplies before heading out. But the streets were getting worse. They would clear a block, and ten minutes later, a fresh wave of infected would flood in. They were moving with purpose. All heading toward the campus. The anxiety in the group was spiking. “What the hell is going on?” “This street was clear yesterday.” “Is someone bleeding? Are we attracting them?” As the guy said it, his eyes drifted accusingly toward me. I looked down at my clothes. Yeah, I was covered in dirt and dust. But there was no blood. The reason I was filthy was that Toby, the guy with the water ability, rationed out water every night for washing. Whenever it was my turn, he would just shrug. “Sorry. Tapped out for the day.” But every single morning, Luna walked out with freshly washed hair, smelling like expensive soap. One was the beautiful healer. The other was the powerless burden. Everyone knew exactly where the water was going. I hadn’t bothered complaining. I was used to this dynamic from back home. But maybe Benjamin had spoiled me a little too much, because my temper flared. “Why are you looking at me?” I snapped. “I’m not bleeding.” The guy’s face darkened. “Watch your tone, Niki. If Luna wasn’t so soft hearted, you think we’d let a leech like you tag along?” Luna immediately stepped in, her voice dripping with gentle concern. “Stop fighting, guys. Niki didn’t mean it.” “I’ll make sure she’s more careful next time so she doesn’t draw them to us.” With two sweet sentences, she perfectly pinned the blame on me. I pressed my lips together and swallowed my anger. Because Benjamin was mutating, the zombie density was skyrocketing. If they kicked me out now, I wouldn’t last an hour. Griffin stopped walking and threw a cold look back at us. “Save your breath. Incoming.” The group went dead silent. Griffin raised his hand. Several pieces of rebar ripped out of the concrete and shot forward, piercing the skulls of the approaching infected. Clean and fast. A bitter taste flooded my mouth. Having powers really was everything.

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The chart-topping pop star got dared on a live broadcast to call his first love. When the call came through, I was in the shower. My little brother picked it up by mistake. “Hello? You looking for my sister? She’s in the shower right now.” The pop star hung up instantly. When I finally called back, he answered on the first ring. A muffled, breathless sob came through the receiver. “Marguerite. Did I really have to wait until he left for it to be my turn?” “It’s fine. I don’t even mind.” I stared at my phone in absolute confusion. That night, Twitter absolutely exploded. #MuteTheWorldRowanIsHeartbroken #WhoCriesLikeABustedFireHydrantOnLiveTV #PopStarRowanBegsToBeTheSidePiece 1 A heavy knock hammered against the bathroom door. My brother Jim’s voice echoed over the sound of running water. “Hey Marguerite! Your phone is ringing. It’s an unknown number.” I didn’t think much of it and yelled back over the spray. “Just answer it for me!” “Got it.” By the time I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out, Jim’s thumbs were flying across his own phone screen. He didn’t even look up. “That call was weird. I answered, no one said a word, and then they just hung up on me.” “Probably a wrong number.” I walked over, towel-drying my hair, and peeked over his shoulder at his screen. “Jim, are you using my gaming account to hit on girls again?” I reached out to snatch his phone away. “I gave you my password so you could grind levels. Use your own account to flirt. Get lost.” Jim dodged like a ninja. “Wait, wait! Come on, Marguerite, please! Just let me finish this match, and I’ll log off.” I grabbed my own phone off the nightstand. Scrolling to the call log, my thumb hovered over the screen and froze. That string of digits for the latest incoming call looked painfully familiar. The longer I looked at it, the more it looked exactly like the number belonging to my ex, Rowan. The same ex who had been dead to me for years. Was this a ghost calling? I hit redial. It rang for what felt like an eternity before someone finally picked up. “Rowan?” A wet, pathetic sniffle came through the speaker. “Marguerite. Did I really have to wait until he left for it to be my turn?” “Whatever. I don’t even mind being second.” “I miss you so much. Can I see you tomorrow?” I rubbed my temples. “Are you drunk, or did you just get amnesia?” What kind of nonsense was this? See him? We broke up ages ago. Calling me now, what, he wanted to dig up ancient history? On the other end, Rowan started whining loudly. “I… I just…” A loud, unmistakable sob. “Marguerite, I work out all the time now! I’m way better than those younger guys you like.” “Why won’t you just give me another chance?” Right. He was definitely wasted. Without changing my expression, I ended the call. 2 The moment I hung up, Jim started screaming from the corner of the room. “Marguerite! Marguerite, look at Twitter! Right now!” I covered my ears and glared at him. “Jim, I am standing right here. Stop screaming like you’re trying to wake the dead. Keep yelling and you’re sleeping in the hotel hallway.” We were supposed to fly back to New York today, but a massive storm grounded all flights out of Miami. By the time we tried to book a hotel, everything nearby was totally sold out. We barely managed to snag the last available room in a rundown motel, and it only had two twin beds. We had to make do. Jim defended himself wildly. “No, seriously, this is a massive deal! You’re trending. You and my favorite almost brother-in-law.” “I can’t believe that weird call was actually him. Are you guys getting back together? Crap, did I mess things up? Do I need to call him back and explain?” So, he wasn’t just drunk dialing me from his living room? I opened Twitter and checked the trending page. Good lord. He completely hijacked the top ten spots. #MuteTheWorldRowanIsHeartbroken #WhoCriesLikeABustedFireHydrantOnLiveTV #PopStarRowanBegsToBeTheSidePiece The two most liked videos at the top of the feed were screen recordings from a live broadcast. Rowan was currently starring in a hit travel reality show. This week’s location happened to be Miami. Caught in the same storm that grounded my flight, the celebrity cast had gathered on a covered patio to wait out the rain and chat. During the downtime, the bed and breakfast owner offered them some homemade local moonshine. Rowan took a few shots and completely lost his grip on reality. They started playing a drinking game. Rowan lost, and his penalty was a dare to call his first love. That led to the first phone call. The video showed the phone ringing on speaker for a long time. Finally, the whole cast heard a young guy’s voice filter through. “Hello? You looking for my sister? She’s in the shower right now.” On screen, Rowan’s face instantly went pale. His jaw locked, and he frantically mashed the end call button. The other celebrities tried to laugh it off, jumping in to save the mood. But a heavily intoxicated Rowan clearly had zero emotional regulation. He grabbed the nearest male celebrity, buried his face in the guy’s shoulder, and started wailing. Through loud, ugly sobs, he cried, “How could she? How could she just replace me with some new puppy?” The sound he made was identical to a boiling kettle screaming for help. In the second video, the moment he heard me say his name, his expression crumpled into pure misery. After delivering his unhinged, morally questionable speech about being willing to be my side piece, I ruthlessly hung up on him. The dial tone echoed on the live feed. Rowan cried even louder. The celebrity he had been using as a tissue couldn’t take it anymore. The guy hauled Rowan up by the arms and dragged him upstairs, completely out of the camera’s view. But even as the video ended, you could still hear Rowan crying hysterically off-camera. The comments section was an absolute goldmine. [Sister, I am begging you, please show this man some mercy. He is literally shattering into pieces.] [I am crying from laughing so hard. Who cries like that on national television?] [Drunk Rowan is a completely different species. The cool-guy persona is dead and buried.] [I don’t care, I love this version of him. Look at the sad little puppy!] [Rowan: Can I join your relationship? Marguerite: Hard pass.] I liked the comment about his persona being dead and buried. Back when we were together, I learned very quickly that Rowan had the alcohol tolerance of a toddler. Every time we drank, he morphed from a broody, intense musician into a clingy, crying mess. After I teased him about it one too many times, he refused to drink with me ever again. He insisted he needed to protect his edgy rockstar image. I used to joke with him back then. “You better treat me right, Rowan. If you ever get famous, I’m selling this dirt to the tabloids.” It was a shame we never got to see what that future looked like. 3 When I woke up the next morning, the sky had completely fallen. Before I went to sleep, I genuinely thought “Marguerite” was a common enough name. Surely the internet detectives wouldn’t trace it back to me. I underestimated them. In a single night, my TikTok account was completely overrun. My comment section was a synchronized chant. [Please have mercy on him, he’s falling apart.] My private messages were even crazier. Right at the top was an official invite from the director of Rowan’s travel show. [Hi Marguerite, I’m the director of ‘Wanderlust Diaries’. We’d love to know if you have any interest in joining us as a guest star for an upcoming episode?] I typed back quickly. [Are you just doing this to milk the gossip about Rowan?] The person on the other end must have been staring at their screen. The reply was instant. [Not entirely. I watched the videos on your page. As an action sports influencer, you fit the theme for our next location perfectly.] Right. I forgot to mention, I run a fairly popular TikTok account dedicated to extreme sports. So the next episode involved extreme sports? While I was still debating, the director dropped a bomb. A massive, ridiculous paycheck. I wasn’t exactly broke, but no one in their right mind turns down that kind of money. I accepted the offer on the spot. Good money, a fun trip, and a chance to get some premium footage for my own channel. It was a win-win. As for Rowan, I threw him entirely out of my mind. 4 Filming day arrived. We were at a famous coastal spot just outside of Miami. Given the weather and the ocean, it wasn’t hard to guess what the extreme sports theme would be. I arrived early. Only one or two other guests were lounging around the set. After some polite introductions, I started chatting with a guy named Carter, who was also in the extreme sports niche. Just as we were getting into a deep conversation about gear, a sudden chill crawled up my spine. I turned my head and locked eyes with Rowan. He was staring at me with a look of pure, toxic resentment. I gave him a look that clearly said, ‘What is your problem?’ considering there were cameras everywhere. But that only seemed to make him act weirder. I took a mental step back. Getting tangled up with Rowan again was a terrible idea. I leaned a little closer to Carter, effectively cutting off any chance for Rowan to join the conversation. Right then, the final guest arrived. It was Stella, an up-and-coming actress signed to the same label as Rowan. The moment she stepped on set, she completely ignored everyone else and made a beeline straight for him. “Rowan! So good to see you again.” Right as she was about to lean into his space, Rowan took a massive step to the side, dodging her completely. Then he looked straight at me. I could read the emotion in his eyes instantly. He was waiting for me to praise him like a good dog. I didn’t react. Rowan was great in a lot of ways, but his controlling, possessive nature was suffocating. Breaking up with him took everything I had. I was never going to walk back into that trap. 5 The director finally stepped out and announced the start of filming. He dropped the first task on us. Scuba diving. “You will pair up. Within thirty minutes underwater, the team that photographs the most unique species of fish wins.” “We will draw lots to determine your partners.” Hearing this, my eyes lit up. I was just complaining to Carter that my channel desperately needed some fresh underwater footage. Please, higher powers, let me draw Carter. We were perfectly matched for this. If I got paired with any of the actors, I’d have to jump through hoops with their agencies just to post my own TikToks. Too much hassle. The draw finished. I stared at the man walking toward me, and my eyebrows pulled into a tight knot. I was screaming internally. The universe absolutely hated me. Rowan stopped in front of me and held out his hand. “Marguerite. Looking forward to working with you.” I forced a polite, entirely fake smile and reached out to shake his hand. “Likewise.” Hopefully, it would just be a normal, professional partnership. I tried to pull my hand back after a brief second, but my fingers wouldn’t budge. Using the perfect blind spot away from the main cameras, Rowan shifted his grip, his long fingers wrapping entirely around my wrist. I gave my arm a hard yank. Nothing. I shot him a venomous glare. Was he losing his mind again? Didn’t he embarrass himself enough on Twitter a few days ago? Just before my patience entirely snapped, he slowly let go of my wrist. What I didn’t realize was that even in the camera’s blind spot, the eagle-eyed fans watching the live stream had caught the tension. [Look at those two in the corner. What is happening? Why did the vibe just get so intense?] [Camera guy, please zoom in! I need to know what they are doing.] [Look at his body language. Rowan is definitely up to something. I bet he just secretly grabbed her hand.] [I think you’re right. Did you see the way Marguerite just glared at him?] Underneath the flood of comments, a brand new hashtag started climbing the trending charts. #RowanAndMarguerite. When I went into the locker room to change into my wetsuit, Stella cornered me. Since we were the only two female guests on the show, the room was empty except for us. She leaned against the lockers, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Marguerite, I heard you and Rowan are a thing?” I paused zipping up my suit and looked at her. “Let me stop you right there. We are exes. We broke up a very long time ago.” Stella didn’t back off. She pushed further. “Oh. Why did you guys break up?” “That’s none of your business.” “Well, are you guys planning to get back together?” She waved her hands quickly. “Don’t get the wrong idea! It’s just that management wants me to fake a romance with him for the show to boost ratings.” “You know how it is, Marguerite. We’re just employees. I have to do what the agency tells me.” I grabbed my diving gear. As I walked past her toward the door, I finally gave her an answer. “Is that so? Well, you don’t need to worry about me. Rowan and I are never happening again.” “I make it a rule never to eat out of the recycling bin.” The moment I stepped out of the locker room, I slammed right into Rowan’s chest. I raised an eyebrow. He definitely heard all of that. Good. Let him hear it. Better to crush his hopes now so he stops acting insane. I sidestepped him and walked straight toward the beach. Heavy footsteps followed closely behind me. His voice was a low, tight growl. “Marguerite. That younger guy from the phone call. Is he really that amazing?” I stopped and looked back at him. A slow, ambiguous smile spread across my face. “Yeah. He’s actually incredible.” I mean, Jim was great at carrying all my heavy filming equipment when I needed a pack mule. He really was a good kid. Rowan’s face went completely dark. He opened his mouth to say something, probably something unhinged, but a crew member ran up and interrupted him, ushering us toward the boats. 6 Right up until we hit the water, I fully expected Rowan to sabotage the task. Back when we dated, whenever he heard something he didn’t like, his favorite revenge was purposely ruining things I cared about. During our junior year of college, I was performing a duet at a major campus showcase. My dance partner was a guy. Rowan threw a massive fit. “Marguerite, can you please just drop this routine?” I shook my head. “Rowan, I promised the senior choreographer I would do it. I can’t back out at the last minute.” He buried his face in my neck, his voice muffled. “Fine.” But the very next day, he went behind my back. He met with the choreographer and offered to perform an original solo song for the showcase. His only condition was that they cut my dance routine from the setlist. Rowan was the undisputed golden boy of the music department. The choreographer jumped at the chance and agreed immediately. When I found out, we had the worst fight of our entire relationship. I couldn’t understand how he could just casually erase weeks of my hard work, all because I had a male dance partner. He completely ignored the blood, sweat, and tears I poured into those rehearsals. He was entirely unapologetic. “Marguerite, I hate it. I hate seeing you pressed up against someone else.” “We belong to each other. We’re the only ones who make sense.” I stared at him, exhausted. “Rowan, I am not something you own.” “I think we need some space. Your need to control every aspect of my life is literally suffocating me.” “We’re done, Rowan.” That was the day I unilaterally ended the relationship. The cold splash of ocean water snapped me back to the present. To my absolute shock, Rowan was being the perfect partner. He took the underwater camera, gestured for me to get into position, and signaled for me to look at the lens. I pushed down the old memories bubbling up in my chest. I swam closer to him, pointing out rare fish, working in total sync as we snapped photo after photo. When we finally broke the surface and climbed back onto the beach, I couldn’t hold my tongue. “I really thought you were going to throw a tantrum and ruin the shoot today.” Rowan froze as he was unzipping his wetsuit. A bittersweet smile touched his lips. “People move forward, Marguerite. Everyone changes.” “How about you take some time and try getting to know this version of me?” The bustling noise of the crew seemed to fade away. We stood there staring at each other. The raw, burning intensity in his eyes was too much. I looked away first. 7 As the sun began to set, the broadcast moved into its final segment. The cast gathered around the patio of a beachfront villa provided by the production team. They drank beers, grilled food, and swapped stories. I leaned against the railing of the second-floor balcony, looking down at Carter and the others laughing around the fire pit. This late-night segment was basically a glorified interrogation. Last time, Rowan got publicly executed and exposed his first love. I had a strong feeling someone else was going to get thrown to the wolves tonight. To ensure I wasn’t the sacrificial lamb, I excused myself right after dinner and hid in my bedroom. I was just about to organize my GoPro footage when someone knocked on the door. It was Rowan. “What do you want?” “I told you. I’m here to be your dirty little secret.” Before I could process that sentence, his long leg stepped forward, forcing his way into the room. What the hell?

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My childhood best friend was cornered in the classroom, getting beaten half to death by the school’s resident mean girl. Just as I was about to step forward and stop it, lines of floating text suddenly materialized in the air right in front of my eyes. [Can the villainess just mind her own business? Doesn’t she know this is just foreplay for our main couple?] [If it wasn’t for this toxic third wheel interfering, the male and female lead would have gotten together ages ago. They wouldn’t have missed out on all those years!] [It is fine. The male lead gets his revenge later. After enduring the humiliation of marrying the villainess, he deliberately orchestrates multiple miscarriages for her and gaslights her into severe depression.] [I bet the villainess does not even know that when she finally commits suicide by jumping off a building, the male lead is in a hotel room, having crazy, passionate hate sex with our sweet baby girl!] I stared at the floating comments, turned on my heel, and walked away. These two toxic psychos deserved each other. They could rot together for all I cared. 1 I stood at a distance, watching Asher. Right now, he looked like a stray dog with a broken spine, slumped on the floor in utter humiliation. His faded school uniform was stained with dirt and blood, clinging to his trembling back. The girl bullying him, Blair, looked radiant and untouchable. She stood over him, grinding the sole of her designer shoe violently into Asher’s long, slender fingers. “Well, look at our genius scholar. You’ve got some tough bones, haven’t you?” Asher was pale as a ghost from the pain, but he clamped his jaw shut and refused to make a sound. If I had seen this exact scene one minute ago, my heart would have bled for him. But the floating text hovering in my vision was a blaring reminder to drop my savior complex and respect his destiny. [So annoying! Why is Sydney showing up to ruin the vibe again?] [The villainess is so stupid. Can she not see the sexual tension between our leads?] [If she hadn’t reported Blair and gotten her expelled, the male lead wouldn’t have lost so many years with his true love!] [Don’t worry guys, he gets payback for all of it later.] [This idiot Sydney definitely doesn’t know that the male lead is the one who swaps out her dad’s heart medication. Serves the old man right for always looking down on our female lead!] [When the villainess finally jumps off the roof to end her miserable life, the male lead is literally hooking up with our precious Blair in a penthouse suite!] [Hahaha she deserves it! That is what you get for tearing true love apart!] Every single word hovering in the air felt like a brutal, stinging slap across my face. So my self righteous attempts to save him would only cost me my family and my life. I looked back at the classroom. I looked at the utter despair in Asher’s eyes. He looked exactly like a beaten hound waiting for its master to show it a shred of pity. A cold smile broke across my face. Since this was their twisted version of romance, then as the designated “evil villainess,” it would be incredibly rude of me to interrupt. My face completely blank, I pulled back the foot I had just stepped forward with, turned around, and walked away without a second thought. I barely made it thirty feet down the hall before a sickening, brittle crunch echoed from the classroom. Immediately after, Asher let out a bloodcurdling scream. The floating comments instantly dissolved into mass panic. [Oh no! Because the villainess didn’t interfere, the female lead actually broke his right hand!] [This is insane! It is a comminuted fracture! He is completely ruined! How is the male lead supposed to take the State Placement Exams now?!] [Sydney, you are so evil! Why didn’t you turn around? If you just stopped her, the female lead would have backed off!] I scoffed under my breath. How was that my problem? 2 Half an hour later, Asher stumbled into my line of sight. His face was twisted in agony, and his uniform was covered in dusty footprints. But the worst part was his right hand, which was currently bent at a completely unnatural angle. I slapped a look of pure, exaggerated shock onto my face. “Oh my god, Asher! Your hand!” I reached out, pressed my thumb directly against his fractured bone, and pushed down hard. “Ahhhhh!” Asher’s shriek echoed through the entire corridor. He violently shoved me away, cradling his mangled hand against his chest as he screamed at me. “Sydney! Are you insane?! Are you trying to kill me?!” Oh, so that hurt? I pretended to lose my balance and grabbed his arm to steady myself, subtly driving my elbow straight into his eye socket. Asher shrieked even louder. The floating comments were weeping for him. [Is the villainess brain dead? Can she not see our male lead is severely injured?] [What a stupid bitch. She deserves to have her family destroyed later on!] I sneered internally, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “This is going way too far. I am calling the cops!” “No! You absolutely cannot call the cops!” Fighting through the blinding pain, Asher lunged forward and snatched my phone out of my hand. “Sydney, what is wrong with you? Are you trying to ruin Blair’s entire life?” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely astounded by the absolute absurdity coming out of his mouth. “She literally shattered your hand, and you are standing here blaming me for wanting to report her?” Asher’s eyes burned with a delusional, desperate need to protect her. “You don’t understand anything!” “Sure, she has a bit of a temper, but deep down she is a kind girl. She only acts out because she comes from a broken home and needs an outlet to vent! She is fragile and pitiful on the inside. She just needs someone to be patient with her.” “But you, Sydney… I never realized how cold blooded and selfish you really are.” I slowly clapped my hands together. “Beautifully said.” “Well, Asher, since you think I am so incredibly selfish, starting tomorrow, you can begin paying back all the sponsorship money my family has given you over the years.” Asher’s parents died in a car crash when he was young. I was the one who begged my wealthy parents to sponsor his education and living expenses. I never expected to be feeding a rabid dog that would eventually turn around and bite my entire family to death. Hearing my demand, Asher looked as if I had just spit in his face. “Sydney, do you honestly think I care about your money? Your family forced that charity on me!” “Great. Then pay it back.” By the end of the argument, Asher was forced to awkwardly use his left hand to scribble out a formal promissory note for his debts. I snatched the paper and flicked it with my fingernail. “From this day forward, our only relationship is creditor and debtor.” The comments completely lost their minds. [Is she crazy?! Using money to humiliate the male lead? Does she think having some cash makes her a god?] [Ten thousand dollars? Please. The male lead will make that in a heartbeat later in the story!] [I get it. The villainess is using debt to trap him. She thinks tying him down with money will get his attention. Keep dreaming, you psycho!] I had to admit, that last comment actually made me feel nauseous. Asher and I parted on terrible terms. I thought I could finally just focus on my studies, but the very next day, Blair cornered me by the bathrooms. 3 Blair blinked her big, watery eyes at me, a vicious smile playing on her lips. “Sydney. Want to guess what I did to your precious boy next door today?” “Why don’t you beg me? If you get on your knees and beg, I promise I won’t lay another finger on him. How about it?” The comments flooded my vision. [Hehe, our girl is so dark and twisted. I love it!] [Our sweet angel did nothing wrong. She just wants to force the villainess to submit.] [To be fair, this is all Sydney’s fault anyway!] [Yes, Blair! Teach her a lesson! Sydney totally humiliated the male lead yesterday and made him write an IOU!] While the comments debated exactly how I was going to tearfully drop to my knees and surrender, I raised my arm without a single warning sign and slapped Blair across the face. Smack! The entire world went dead silent. Blair cupped her cheek, her eyes wide with absolute disbelief. “Sydney. Did you just hit me?!” I raised my hand and slapped her again. “I hit you because I felt like hitting you. Did I need to check my calendar first?” Blair let out a furious shriek and lunged at me, raising her hands to fight back. I was entirely prepared. I grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her hard against the tiled wall. She started screaming and kicking. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at the ceiling. “Scream. Come on, scream louder. Let’s get the teachers in here so they can see exactly who the school bully is.” “Besides…” I gently patted her red, swollen cheek. “Besides, if the teachers do show up, who do you think they are going to believe? You, or the straight A valedictorian?” Blair was shaking uncontrollably from pure rage. “Sydney, you bitch! You just wait! I am going to make your little boyfriend’s life a living hell!” Hearing that, I intentionally paused my movements. I let a flash of fake panic cross my face. “Don’t you dare! If you keep bullying Asher, I swear I will never forgive you!” After delivering my completely hollow, pathetic warning, I released her and stumbled away down the hall, making my footsteps sound frantic and chaotic. Behind me, Blair slumped against the wall, gasping for air. Just as I turned the corner, I caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were shining with a sick, twisted excitement. She looked like a predator that had just found a massive weak spot in its prey. I prayed silently in my heart. Blair, please don’t let me down. 4 The female lead truly lived up to her title. Her efficiency was terrifying. In just a few days, Asher lost a massive amount of weight. Even though I didn’t witness the abuse with my own eyes, the floating comments gave me a play by play update on his misery. [The male lead got locked in a bathroom stall and drenched in toilet water! He is shivering so hard right now!] [Blair just pushed him down a flight of stairs! He totally twisted his ankle!] [Someone poured water all over his desk and shredded his textbooks into the trash can!] [This is entirely Sydney’s fault! If she hadn’t provoked the female lead, Blair wouldn’t be taking her anger out on him!] [The villainess is so evil. If she hadn’t cut off his allowance, he would have had enough money to go to the hospital and get his hand treated!] Right, right, totally my fault. I was the ultimate scapegoat. Everything that went wrong in the universe was clearly on my shoulders. These commenters genuinely seemed to lack basic brain development. I was busy rolling my eyes at the text when I turned a corner and saw Asher pinned to the ground. Blair was wearing heavy leather loafers, grinding her heel ruthlessly into his mangled, untreated right hand. She uncapped a bottle of water and dumped it directly over his head. “Come on, genius. Didn’t you say you were going to save me? Speak up.” Asher had dark, bruised bags under his eyes. His lips were a bloodless white, but his cheeks burned with an unnatural, feverish red. The exposed skin on his arms was littered with fresh scrapes and cuts. His eyes were totally unfocused. He kept muttering the same thing over and over. “Save me.” I turned around and walked away. Respect their destiny. Drop the savior complex. Asher, didn’t you want to be bullied by her? Then enjoy every single second of it. Three days later, Asher collapsed in the middle of gym class and was rushed to the emergency room. Because he delayed treatment for far too long, the bone in his right hand was severely infected. Necrosis had set in. To stop the infection from spreading and killing him, the doctors had no choice but to amputate his hand. I learned all of this from the frantic floating comments. That very afternoon, I packed a bag and headed straight to the hospital to visit him. After all, as the designated evil villainess, how could I pass up a golden opportunity to rub salt in his wounds? 5 I pushed open the door to Asher’s hospital room. He was lying flat on the bed. At the end of his right arm, wrapped tightly in heavy white bandages, was empty space. He had his eyes closed, but at the sound of the door opening, he turned his head to look at me. His gaze was dark, heavy, and full of calculation. Even though he was sitting there in a cheap hospital gown, he suddenly exuded this aura of deep, brooding maturity. It was a complete 180 from the pathetic boy he was yesterday. Just as I was trying to figure out what happened, the comments flooded in. [Hahaha! The villainess definitely doesn’t know our male lead has been reborn!] [Just an hour ago, the male lead suddenly got all his memories back from his previous life!] [This time around, he swore to fix all his past regrets and get together with the female lead early!] [Sydney is never going to get his love in this lifetime. She won’t even get to touch him!] Gross. Who wanted their recycled garbage anyway? Asher’s voice was rough and scratchy. “Sydney. You were reborn too, weren’t you? Why else would you just stand there and watch me die?” “You were supposed to rush out and shield me when she broke my hand.” Hearing that, I actually almost laughed out loud. Did he really think I was his personal meat shield? He literally gets a second chance at life, and instead of asking Blair why she tortured him, his very first instinct is to interrogate me for not saving him. First of all, I wasn’t reborn. Second of all, even if I was, I would rather die than admit it to him. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him with absolute freezing contempt. “Asher, did they amputate your hand or lobotomize your brain? What are you even talking about? Why don’t you accuse me of being an alien while you’re at it?” Asher narrowed his eyes, scanning me from head to toe with a razor sharp glare. “Then why did you stand there coldly and watch me get bullied?” I sneered. “Because you are a pathetic masochist who refused to let me call the police. That has absolutely nothing to do with me.” “You reap what you sow. Now you are a cripple, and you should be taking that up with Blair. Where do you get the nerve to sit here and interrogate me?” He stared at me in silence for a long time before finally looking away. “Fine. Losing an arm is a small price to pay if it means you stop obsessing over me in this life.” “The only woman I love is Blair. From today onward, we walk separate paths. I want absolutely nothing to do with you.” Watching him act so disgustingly arrogant and full of himself, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I cut him off. “Who said we have nothing to do with each other? You still owe me a ton of cash.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out the promissory note, and flicked the paper in his face. “And for the record, I am not blind enough to fall in love with a delusional cripple.” Watching Asher’s face turn the color of a charred frying pan brought me immense joy. 6 Asher collapsing on the track field turned into a massive scandal at school, but he absolutely refused to name the person who had been bullying him. I didn’t understand it, nor did I respect it. I immediately turned around and cornered Blair in the bathroom again. After giving her ten minutes of intense, physical “re education,” I grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to arch backward. “Blair, I warned you to stay away from Asher. Why can’t you just listen?” Despite my grip on her hair, Blair started laughing hysterically. “Sydney. I knew it. You are totally in love with him, aren’t you? Why else would you care this much?” I forced a look of flustered, humiliated panic onto my face, acting like she just exposed my deepest secret. “Who I like is none of your business!” “I am telling you right now, he is mine! Stay the hell away from him!” Blair laughed even harder. “God, Sydney, I can’t believe you are actually into a pathetic loser like Asher. Your taste in men is absolute trash.” I lunged forward, acting like a woman blinded by rage, and slapped her twice across the face. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that!” Blair clutched her stinging cheeks, looking at me with pure, intoxicating triumph. “Sydney, it doesn’t matter how much you love him. Asher told me himself. He feels absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he thinks you are annoying.” “You are just his pathetic little stalker. No matter how hard you beg, you only make him sick.” I screamed back at her. “So what?! He will fall in love with me eventually!” “As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend, I still have a chance!” After delivering that final, agonizing line, I put on a heartbroken expression and stumbled out of the bathroom, looking entirely defeated. But right as I stepped through the door, I heard Blair whisper to herself. “As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend?” A few days later, news broke that Asher and Blair were officially dating. 7 I walked past an empty corridor and caught them. Asher had Blair pinned against the wall, gripping her wrists, kissing her aggressively. The wet, suggestive sounds of their tangled bodies echoed in the hallway. Suddenly, a loud slap shattered the heavy romantic tension. Blair wiped her mouth furiously and slapped him across the face again. “Who the hell do you think you are, putting your hands on me?!” Asher ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, staring down at her with dark, obsessive eyes. “Kneel.” Asher only hesitated for a fraction of a second before dropping obediently to his knees in front of her. Blair pressed the toe of her shoe against his chest. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked hard. After hearing him suck in a sharp breath of pain, her demeanor instantly softened. She reached down and gently scratched him under the chin like a pet. “Good boy.” “Now tell me. Who is prettier? Me, or Sydney?” Asher looked up at her with utter devotion. “You, of course, baby.” The floating comments were losing their collective minds. [Yes! This is exactly what I came for! The toxic angst! The enemies to lovers tension!] [Blair is a little harsh, but when they are sweet, they are SO sweet.] [She abuses him a thousand times, and he still treats her like his first love! Sydney must be dying of jealousy!] [The villainess can stay mad. The male lead only has eyes for his queen!] [Queen Blair and her loyal dog! I am eating this up!] I legitimately almost threw up my breakfast. It was burning my retinas. Even though the comments had thoroughly spoiled the plot for me, seeing Asher act like a total masochistic sub in real life still gave me full body chills. How could a human being have zero self respect? As a normal, functioning member of society, I needed to stay as far away from these two lunatics as physically possible. But just because I wanted to avoid them didn’t mean the plot was going to let me go. Because my grades were flawlessly at the top of the class, the school nominated me for the Stanford Early Admissions Exam. Somehow, my direct competition for the sole scholarship spot was Blair. I genuinely didn’t understand how someone with her academic record even qualified to sit for the test, but whatever. On the day of the exam, I arrived at the testing center early. Just as I was about to walk into the building, a shadow blocked my path. Asher stood there, staring at me with dead, cold eyes. “Sydney. You already have everything in life. Give this admission spot to Blair.” “Your grades are fine. You can get into a good college on your own without this scholarship.” I was so baffled I actually laughed. “Asher, did you get dropped on your head as a baby? Do you seriously believe the entire planet revolves around you?” “Get out of my way.” I turned to walk past him. Suddenly, a flurry of red text exploded in my vision. [The villainess actually thinks he is just going to ask nicely.] [There are plenty of ways to disqualify her from a written exam. Like shattering her right hand!] [It is perfect. There are no security cameras in this alleyway anyway.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “527593”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My twin brother Ollie and I got into our sister’s alma mater. On move-in day, she drove him to campus and left me hauling my own heavy suitcases. I gripped my Finance acceptance letter tight, heart pounding with anticipation. My sister had always been my idol, and now I was finally catching up. When I reached the dorms, she had already unpacked for Ollie. They sat together on a bench in the campus quad. She told him she had spoken to the dean and moved him into my spot in the Finance program. She promised to introduce him to her old professors and pave the way for his future. That look of pure, easy affection had never once been aimed at me. Ollie smiled brightly and suggested I take his place in Vocal Performance instead. Years ago, I had thrown myself over my sister to shield her from a collapsing beam in a house fire. The damage left me reliant on a hearing aid for daily conversation. Studying music was impossible for me. She reached out and ruffled his hair, agreeing without hesitation. At that moment, the straps of my backpack felt like they were crushing me. If my entire future was worth less than a casual joke from my brother, then I no longer wanted this family. I pretended I hadn’t seen them and walked straight to the Finance department’s registration desk. The academic advisor took my acceptance letter, scanned it, and handed it back. But when he typed my ID into the system, his brow furrowed. “Your name isn’t in this cohort.” “Let me check the general directory. Ah, here you are. You’re registered in the Vocal Performance program. You need to head over to the Arts building to sign in.” I shook my head. “I’m not an arts student. My medical records clearly state I have a severe hearing impairment. It’s literally impossible for me to be admitted into Vocal Performance.” “Besides, my acceptance letter clearly says I am enrolled in the Finance department.” Growing up, I couldn’t even count the number of times I had to give things up for Oliver. When he decided he liked the floor-to-ceiling windows in my bedroom, my sister knocked down the wall to give him a massive master suite and moved me into the cramped maid’s quarters. When he wanted my limited-edition sneakers, my sister forced me to hand them over, even though I had worked double shifts all summer just to buy them. She always used the same excuse. “Felix, you used to be such a good, selfless kid. You literally saved my life in that fire. What happened to you? Why are you so bitter about sharing with your own brother?” Jasmine was the person I looked up to most in the world. I didn’t want her to look at me like I was a monster, so I swallowed the unfairness. Again and again. But this time was different. To get into this university’s Finance program, I studied from five in the morning until midnight for three straight years. While Jasmine took Oliver on a luxury vacation to the Maldives this summer, I stayed home teaching myself advanced calculus. I sacrificed too much for this. This time, I refused to back down. The advisor gave me a long, sympathetic look. “Give me a second. Let me call the admissions office.” Just as he picked up the phone, Jasmine and Oliver walked up. Jasmine instantly assessed the standoff. “Hi, I’m Felix’s older sister. He’s at the wrong desk.” “Oliver is the one in your Finance program. Just sign him in.” Jasmine clamped her hand around my wrist, dragging me backward. She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “Come with me right now. Stop making a scene and embarrassing us. I’ll explain everything later.” Embarrassing us. I repeated those words in my head. That was exactly how she had viewed me for years. Oliver got to attend high-society galas and corporate board meetings with her. I was told to stay home. On our shared birthday, Oliver got a massive, lavish party with hundreds of wealthy guests. I sat alone in the dark living room until midnight, waiting for them to bring back a half-eaten slice of leftover cake. “Felix, you can’t hear well in crowded rooms anyway. You never catch what people are saying. It’s better for you to just stay home.” I used to pretend I didn’t see the disgust hiding in her eyes. I convinced myself she was just being protective. But today, she finally shattered that pathetic little fantasy. I forcefully yanked my wrist out of her grip. “You and Oliver literally stole my university admission. Aren’t you the ones who should be embarrassed?” I took a few steps back, pulling out my phone to call the dean myself. I was going to fight for what was mine. The line connected. My heart pounded against my ribs. My lips trembled as I opened my mouth to explain what was happening. Suddenly, the entire world went violently silent. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my ear. Jasmine had snatched my hearing aid right out of my ear. A drop of fresh blood smeared across the plastic casing in her hand. The seconds on the call timer ticked by, but I couldn’t hear a single sound. The person on the other end eventually hung up. Jasmine furiously typed something on her phone and shoved the screen into my face. [I bought that hearing aid with my money. You are coming with me right now, and I will give it back to you.] [If you don’t, I am confiscating it. You won’t be attending any classes at all. You can go work a minimum-wage job until you can afford a new one yourself.] 2 I stared at her for a few agonizing seconds, then turned around and walked away. She didn’t care about my future, and I was done begging for scraps of her love. I wrote a simple message on a notepad. [Are you hiring? I am a hard worker and I will do anything.] I walked into every single store, cafe, and restaurant near the campus. I pointed to my ear, then handed the notepad to the managers. Every single one of them shook their heads. By nightfall, the storefronts went dark. I hadn’t eaten a single bite of food all day. Blisters had ruptured on my heels, making every step excruciating. Exhausted, I collapsed on the concrete steps of a closed diner, leaning my head against the cold brick wall. Suddenly, the warm, savory smell of fresh food wafted over me. I looked up. It was the woman who ran the breakfast cart down the street. I had shown her my notepad earlier that afternoon. She pressed two warm breakfast sandwiches into my hands, followed by her glowing phone screen. It was a text thread with Jasmine. [My brother, Felix, is deaf. If he comes looking for a job, turn him away immediately.] [Do not serve him food, do not rent him a room, and do not offer him any help.] The woman typed a new message for me to read. “Your sister owns the commercial real estate on this entire block. She sent that warning to every single business owner. We are all just trying to make a living, kid. No one dares to cross her.” “I waited until it was completely dark to sneak you this food. Please, don’t let your sister find out.” I nodded slowly. Terrified of being seen, the woman hurried away. I took a slow, mechanical bite of the sandwich. When my sister stole my college admission, I didn’t cry. When she ripped out my hearing aid and forced me to wander the streets in silence, I didn’t cry. But right now, reading a few words of kindness from a total stranger, my eyes burned. The tears spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them. Eventually, I curled into a tight ball on the concrete and fell into an exhausted, feverish sleep. I didn’t know how much time had passed when a heavy fist slammed directly into my cheekbone. I jerked awake. A group of street thugs stood over me, cruel grins twisting their faces. Their mouths were moving, but I couldn’t hear a word they were saying. I scrambled to my feet and tried to run. But my blistered feet betrayed me. Before I made it ten yards, a hand grabbed the back of my collar and violently hurled me to the pavement. They pinned me down. Fists rained down on my face and stomach, blurring my vision. Just as I was about to pass out from the pain, they suddenly stopped and backed away. I dug my nails into my palms, forcing myself to stay conscious. I forced my swollen eyes open. Jasmine was standing right in front of me. She was wearing a sleek, tailored black trench coat, looking utterly immaculate and aristocratic. She stared down at me with a faint trace of disgust in her eyes. A suffocating wave of humiliation washed over me. I felt like an absolute clown. Jasmine waved her hand, and the thugs immediately lowered their heads and scurried away into the alley. I understood instantly. She hired them to beat me. Jasmine sighed heavily. She pulled a silk handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the dirt and blood off my cheek. Then, she pushed a new hearing aid into my ear. “I accidentally broke your old one this morning. I bought you a replacement. It’s a top-tier import.” “I didn’t know your exact ear mold measurements, so I just used Oliver’s. You guys are twins anyway.” The earpiece didn’t fit. It was too big, digging painfully into the cartilage of my ear. But it worked well enough for me to hear her voice. “Look at yourself. You’ve been gone for twelve hours and you already look like a stray dog.” “Come home with me, Felix. Tomorrow, you are going to register at the Arts building.” “I will pull some strings and explain your disability to the professors. They won’t make things too hard on you.” 3 She thought I was finally broken. She thought I was ready to submit. Instead, I tilted my head up, looked her dead in the eye, and spoke clearly. “And what if I say no? Are you going to hire more thugs to beat me?” Her eyes darkened. She didn’t say a word. Her silence was a yes. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “Jasmine, I never understood why you played favorites.” “Oliver and I are both your brothers. I literally saved your life in that fire…” “Enough.” Jasmine cut me off, her face turning ice-cold. “Stop bringing up ancient history like I owe you my life. It was years ago.” “Oliver is bright, cheerful, and he knows how to make me laugh. He brings life into our house. Of course I favor him.” “Unlike you. You just skulk around the house wearing that hearing aid, trying to make me feel guilty. You are so manipulative for your age.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Our parents moved overseas to expand the business right after we were born. To me, Jasmine was my only real family. During the fire, I didn’t hesitate for a single second before throwing my body over hers. When the doctors told me my hearing was permanently gone, I was so terrified of making her sad that I voluntarily moved to a boarding school. I only called to share good news, hiding all my struggles. I only went home during winter and summer breaks. I never imagined she despised my presence that much. She harbored a deep, irrational resentment toward me. No matter what I said, she would only see it as a manipulation tactic. I nodded, accepting the reality. “Fine. I understand.” “I’ll buy a bus ticket out of state tomorrow. I’ll get as far away from you as possible.” “Felix, why do you have to be so incredibly unreasonable?!” Jasmine snapped. She opened her mouth to yell at me again, but her phone suddenly rang. The moment she looked at the screen, the ice in her eyes melted into pure warmth. “Hey, Ollie. How was your first day? Are you settling in okay?” “If any of your classes are too hard, just call me. I can help you.” Oliver’s voice chirped happily through the speaker. “Don’t worry, Val! Everyone knows I’m your brother. Nobody dares to mess with me.” “I just got to the penthouse you bought for me near campus. Can you bring me a slice of strawberry shortcake? I want a midnight snack.” Jasmine laughed, the sound dripping with affection. “You greedy little pig.” “Give me ten minutes. I’m on my way.” Oliver continued to whine and act cute, and Jasmine happily indulged him. I sat on the cold pavement, completely alienated from this picture-perfect family dynamic. I started to push myself up to leave, but then I heard Oliver casually drop a question. “By the way, how is Felix doing in the Vocal Performance program?” Jasmine frowned and glared at me. “He isn’t nearly as obedient as you. He threw a tantrum and ran off this morning.” Oliver had always been perfectly obedient to Jasmine. Because everything she ever demanded of him only benefited him. Oliver let out a theatrical sigh. “I just wanted to build his character and test his resilience.” “If he actually manages to become the deaf Beethoven of our generation, at least he won’t be a total embarrassment to the family anymore.” Oliver’s grades were terrible. He had to rely on Jasmine’s money just to get accepted into the Arts program. But he desperately wanted the prestige of the Finance industry. Yet he spun his selfish theft into a noble sacrifice for my own good. A cold laugh escaped my throat. “I have zero musical talent.” “I got into the Finance program based on my own academic merit. If you actually cared about my future, you would give me my rightful spot back.” 4 “Felix!” Jasmine roared. She hung up the phone, her eyes blazing with absolute fury. “Are you doing this just to spite us?!” “Fine. Great. Since you think you can fly on your own, I will personally blacklist you from every single university in New York. I will blacklist you across the entire country.” “Let’s see how far an uneducated, deaf high school graduate can make it in the real world.” She held out her hand, her palm facing up. “If you have any backbone at all, give me back everything I bought you.” I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the oversized hearing aid out of my ear and dropped it into her palm. The world plunged back into dead silence. But I didn’t regret it. She had already stolen my university admission. If I stayed, she would slowly strip away everything else I earned just to feed Oliver’s ego. Being deaf and broke was better than being their personal blood bag. I turned to walk away, but Jasmine stepped in front of me, blocking my path. She furiously typed a sentence on her phone. [The clothes on your back were bought with my money too, weren’t they?] They weren’t! Every time I came home for the holidays, she would give Oliver a massive allowance. “Felix is finally home! Go buy whatever clothes you want,” she would say. “But Felix, your hearing makes it hard for you to talk to the cashiers, and Oliver has a much better fashion sense. Just let Oliver buy things for you.” But the second Oliver walked into a mall, he spent every last dime on designer sneakers for himself. He completely forgot I existed. Or rather, he knew that even if he ignored me, Jasmine wouldn’t punish him. So he did whatever he wanted. I was so terrified of being a burden that I never complained. I just used my academic scholarship money to buy my own cheap clothes from thrift stores. I raised my hands to sign the truth to her. But she refused to look. She rolled her eyes impatiently, looked down at her screen, and typed one word. [Strip.] Every ounce of strength drained from my body. Jasmine shot a look to her bodyguards, and two massive men stepped out of the shadows, cornering me. Her message was clear. Strip, or don’t leave at all. My hands trembled as I took off my shoes. Then my jeans. Then my t-shirt. I stood in the alleyway in nothing but my boxer briefs. The cold night wind bit into my exposed skin. A sudden icy sensation ran down my cheeks. I raised a hand and realized I was crying. Silent, uncontrollable tears were streaming down my face. I reached for the waistband of my underwear, but Jasmine suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. Her entire body was shaking. Her eyes were bloodshot. She ripped off her own designer trench coat and threw it over my bare shoulders. Her lips formed a single, harsh word. I couldn’t hear it, but reading her lips, it looked a lot like “Leave.” I didn’t argue. I pulled her long coat tight around my body and walked away. The coat fell past my knees, hiding enough so that people wouldn’t think I was a naked lunatic escaping an asylum. I walked all the way to the bus terminal, leaving bloody footprints on the concrete. Jasmine had already frozen every single bank account tied to my name. So I downloaded a predatory payday loan app on my phone, borrowed a thousand dollars at an insane interest rate, and bought a one-way ticket to London. It was an ocean away. Jasmine couldn’t touch me there. I was going to build a new life with my own two hands. That night, Jasmine didn’t sleep a wink. She kept checking her phone, desperately hoping for a text from me. She couldn’t understand why her perfectly obedient, docile little brother had suddenly rebelled. With their family’s wealth, she could have guaranteed both her brothers a life of luxury, regardless of their majors. After hesitating for hours, she finally called her head of security. “Find my brother immediately. He can’t hear, which makes him incredibly vulnerable. Put eyes on him, but stay in the shadows.” “Yes, ma’am.” But five minutes later, the security chief called back. His voice was laced with panic. “Ms. Jasmine, Felix is no longer in the United States. We are still trying to track his final destination…” “What?!” Jasmine shot up from her chair, the blood completely draining from her face. 5 After a grueling international flight, I landed in London. The city was damp and freezing, the air thick with the smell of the River Thames and exhaust fumes. After paying for a cheap hostel, my payday loan left me with exactly thirty pounds. If I ate nothing but instant noodles, it would last me two weeks. Without a hearing aid, my world was completely silent. But there was a deep safety in that silence. There were no harsh lectures from Jasmine, no manipulative whining from Oliver. The toxicity had receded like the tide. I spent three days looking for a job. I walked down street after street, getting rejected by every single pub and retail shop. No one wanted to hire a deaf teenager. Eventually, I saw a flyer pinned to a community board. A wealthy family was looking for a private A-Level math tutor. Thirty pounds an hour. I went to a local library and printed ten copies of my high school transcripts. Top 0.1% in the state. Perfect scores in advanced mathematics. A mother texted me almost immediately. Her daughter, Chloe, was failing math right before her university entrance exams. The mother typed a question on her phone when we met. “You can’t hear. How are you going to teach her?” “I write fast,” I typed back. “I will write out every single step until she understands the core concept.” She agreed to a one-week trial. Every morning at seven, I took the Tube to their flat in Camden and sat in their living room for six hours. I used a pencil and blank printer paper. I broke down complex calculus equations line by line. I derived the formulas, erased them, and wrote them again. I didn’t stop writing until Chloe smiled and gave me a thumbs up. One afternoon, her mother recorded a video of our session and posted it in a parent group chat. That night, I received forty new messages requesting my services. My schedule exploded. I went from tutoring one kid to three kids a day. I took the train across London, from Soho to Greenwich. I carried a bottle of tap water and a pack of plain biscuits in my backpack for my daily meals. In two weeks, I saved up twelve hundred pounds. I went straight to an audiologist clinic in Central London and bought a mid-range hearing aid. It wasn’t a luxury import like the one Jasmine bought, but it worked perfectly. The world flooded with sound again. I felt like a whole human being. The next morning, I walked onto the campus of London University. I didn’t have an appointment. I just sat on a bench outside the admissions office for four hours. Eventually, an older man in a tweed jacket noticed me and asked what I was doing. I handed him my portfolio and clearly explained my situation. “I don’t have the money for international tuition. But I have perfect test scores. You can test me right now if you want.” The man was Professor Chen, the Vice Dean of the Mathematics department. He looked over my transcripts, then read my audiology report. He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he asked me why I traveled across the ocean all by myself. I thought about it for a second. “Because my family didn’t want me anymore.” Professor Chen didn’t pry. He took me inside and spent the entire afternoon discussing my case with the admissions board. The next morning, I received an email. “Given Felix’s exceptional academic record and extenuating circumstances, the university board has unanimously agreed to grant a full-tuition scholarship for the four-year program, alongside guaranteed on-campus employment.” I stared at the glowing screen. Tears spilled over my eyelashes, hitting the keyboard and blurring my vision.

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1 Ever since I was a kid, I could see people’s second shadows. It was a reflection of the soul. The shadows of deeply devoted lovers would entwine seamlessly, while the shadows of couples on the verge of divorce would slowly drift apart. On the day my parents finalized their divorce, the shadow of the man who married my mother completely consumed hers. On the day my older brother finally walked away from a toxic ex, his shadow severed all ties with hers. And as for me and Sylvia, our shadows were always perfectly and tightly overlapped. I used to count my blessings every single day. I thought I had found the perfect woman. We were childhood sweethearts. Ten years of history. An unbreakable bond. That was, until the afternoon she dropped by my office with my favorite ice cream. Under the blinding afternoon sun, I looked down and noticed a terrifying glitch. Our shadows were slightly misaligned. It felt like a magnifying glass was focusing the scorching sun directly onto my heart. For weeks, I drove myself insane searching for clues, checking her phone, analyzing her schedule. I found absolutely nothing. I was just about to convince myself that I was being paranoid, that my eyes were playing tricks on me. Then came the camping trip. We had gone out of our way to pick up my best friend, Carter, for a weekend in the mountains. When we stepped out of the car, the sunlight hit the pavement. My breath hitched. Right there on the asphalt, Sylvia and Carter’s second shadows were overlapping. The sweltering summer heat could not chase away the ice invading my veins. So this was the root of the sickness. … A few yards away, the two of them were setting up a camping tent together. Whenever their hands accidentally brushed, Sylvia would politely and distantly pull away. That was typical Sylvia. To any guy other than me, she was an iceberg, completely restrained and aloof. Even to Carter. To avoid any misunderstandings, she didn’t even have his phone number saved. If it weren’t for the meteor shower tonight, a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event that happened to be Carter’s birthday wish, Sylvia would never have agreed to a three-person camping trip. Yet, watching them pitch that tent, their unspoken chemistry was so fluid it made my stomach churn with jealousy. “Rowan? Hey, man, what’s wrong? Why are you shivering in this heat? Let me get you to a doctor…” Carter’s voice snapped me back to reality. His eyes were filled with genuine concern. He grabbed my arm, trying to guide me toward the car. He had been like this since we were kids, always looking out for me like an older brother. When we arrived, he absolutely refused to let me lift a finger to help with the tent. But in that moment, his touch felt like crawling maggots. Nausea hit me like a freight train. I violently shoved his hand away. Carter lost his footing. He let out a yelp, stumbling backward and dragging me down to the dirt with him. A sharp pain shot up my leg, and a muffled groan escaped my lips. But when I looked up, the rest of my cry died in my throat. Sylvia had thrown half her body under Carter to break his fall. The raw, unfiltered panic on her face was impossible to fake. And on the ground, her second shadow leaned even deeper into his. It wasn’t until she felt my eyes on her that she jumped up like she had been burned. She rushed over to check on me. “Honey, are you okay? Carter twisted his ankle last week, and I panicked thinking he might have re-injured it. That’s why I checked on him first.” I met her gaze. Her eyes were clear and completely unapologetic. The midday sun beat down on us, making the world spin, but the chill inside me seeped all the way into my bones. Last week, when I heard Carter had twisted his ankle, I was frantic. I wanted to drop everything and take him to the ER. But he brushed me off over the phone, laughing and saying he already had company. I remember the sweet, secretive tone of his voice. I had smiled, thinking my chronically single best friend had finally found a girl. I just never expected that girl to be my wife. “I thought you guys didn’t have each other’s contact info. How did you know he twisted his ankle?” Carter’s face instantly drained of color. Sylvia, however, barely blinked. “I was leaving a client meeting near his office and saw it happen on the sidewalk. I couldn’t exactly leave him stranded.” “He’s your best friend. I couldn’t just walk away.” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the ground, watching their shadows inch closer together. My ankle throbbed, but it was a dull ache compared to the shredding of my chest. “Can you stand?” I thought she was talking to me. I opened my mouth to answer, only to realize her eyes were locked onto Carter. “I think so. Just landed right on last week’s sprain. It burns a little…” Carter muttered. Sylvia’s voice took on a sharp, scolding edge, but it was dripping with undeniable affection. It was the exact tone she used on me whenever I did something reckless. “Stay put. Let me go to the car and grab the first-aid kit.” She let go of me, jogging to the SUV. She brought back the medical ointment and carefully, meticulously massaged it into Carter’s ankle. Only after she confirmed he was fine did she let out a long breath and turn her attention to me. Under the blazing sun, their entwined shadows looked like a gaping maw ready to swallow me whole. I sat there, numb, letting Sylvia apply the ointment to my leg while my brain frantically scanned the past ten years of memories. When did the cracks start? How could I have been so blind? My head felt like it was going to split open until Sylvia’s voice dragged me back. “Looks fine. Nothing swollen. Rowan, just tough it out for today, okay? The meteor shower is a big deal, and we drove all the way up here. If it still hurts tomorrow, I’ll take you to the clinic.” She didn’t ask for my input like she usually did. With a dismissive “tough it out,” she bulldozed over my pain to pave the way for Carter’s birthday wish. Carter mumbled something about feeling guilty, but his eyes were pleading with me to stay. “It’s settled then,” Sylvia declared. “Otherwise you’ll just keep bugging us to bring you camping. My husband and I barely get a weekend off, and we still have to drag a third wheel along.” “You guys rest up. I’ll finish the tent.” She walked away, her footsteps crunching on the dry grass, but her second shadow twisted unnaturally, desperately clinging to Carter’s. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the pain wash over me. Night fell over the mountains. The meteor shower arrived right on schedule. Sylvia played the perfect, attentive wife. She set up the telescope and adjusted the camera settings to capture the night sky perfectly. At the stroke of midnight, Carter pressed his palms together, whispering into the dark. “I wish for Rowan and me to be brothers for life. Nothing will ever tear us apart.” He sounded so sincere, yet my stomach violently convulsed. I used to think he truly cherished our brotherhood. Now I realized it was just his VIP pass to stay close to my wife. Sylvia also closed her eyes, playing along with the ritual. “I wish for my husband to stay handsome forever. And for us to live happily ever after.” Under the starlight, she looked at me with eyes that seemed to hold the entire Milky Way. But on the dirt floor, her shadow and Carter’s shadow were writhing together, carving a fresh nightmare into my mind. “You guys enjoy the show. I’m not feeling great. I’m going to turn in.” I crawled into the dark tent, curling into a ball. A few minutes later, a blanket of suffocating warmth wrapped around me. “What’s wrong? You seem completely out of it today.” “Nothing. Just the mountain wind. I’m a bit cold.” Usually, I’d be clinging to her like a koala right now. Seeing me turned away, she frowned, gently rolled me over, and pressed the back of her hand against my forehead. “You probably caught a chill. Good thing I packed cold medicine and melatonin. Get some sleep. I made sure to buy the best windproof tent on the market.” She fetched the pills and a bottle of water, watching me swallow them. Then, she began slowly rubbing circles on my back, letting out a soft chuckle. “Look at you, babe. You really can’t survive a single minute without me.” She buried her face in the crook of my neck. But instead of comfort, an icy dread wrapped around my throat, suffocating me like a tightened noose. Ten years together. Married for five. Sylvia had always been fiercely protective and attentive. I never even had to speak for her to know what I was thinking. Just like now. Noting my silence, she let out a heavy sigh. “Is this because I didn’t take you to the hospital right away? Relax. I checked your ankle myself. It’s just a bruise.” She placed her burning palm over my injured ankle. “Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous over Carter?” She let out a low, amused laugh and raised a hand in a mock oath. “Rowan, it’s been a decade. You know you’re the only man in my heart.” In the pale moonlight filtering through the canvas, I stared at the floor. Her second shadow stretched endlessly, slipping straight into the adjacent tent where Carter was sleeping. Tighter. Closer. Bitterness crashed into me wave after wave. Her guilt and her overcompensation were just a byproduct of her deepening bond with him. “It’s fine.” I shifted my weight, putting a few inches of distance between us. “I think I’m coming down with something. Give me some space, I don’t want to get you sick.” Sylvia didn’t say anything else. The medicine kicked in, dragging me into a foggy, restless sleep. My dreams were flooded with their tangled shadows. I woke up drenched in cold sweat. Blindly, I reached out to the space beside me. The sleeping bag was empty and stone cold. My eyes shot open. My heart slammed against my ribs. With trembling fingers, I peeled back the tent zipper just a fraction. A few yards away, bathed in silver starlight, Sylvia and Carter stood shoulder to shoulder. I crept closer, hiding behind a pine tree. Sylvia’s voice was low, almost husky. “Do you like your birthday present?” Carter’s fists were clenched at his sides. His voice shook when he finally spoke. “Do you remember that night we…” “I want your wish to come true. I want both our wishes to come true,” Sylvia interrupted, her voice entirely flat. Carter dropped his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. She had clearly chosen me, yet my mouth tasted like ash. They were standing two feet apart, but their shadows were practically devouring each other on the grass. I snapped a twig under my boot. Sylvia’s head whipped around. I turned and bolted back to the tent before she could spot me in the dark. A few minutes later, the tent flap opened. A pair of cold lips pressed against my forehead. Soon, the sound of her steady breathing filled the small space. At some point, tears had soaked straight through my pillow. Sylvia kept her promise. As soon as we drove down the mountain the next morning, she insisted we drop by the local clinic. The doctor took one look at Sylvia and chuckled. “Well, look who’s back. Didn’t I say come back in two weeks? And you brought your husband this time?” The doctor adjusted his glasses, completely oblivious. “You rarely see couples this devoted anymore. Last week you were in here every single day with your boyfriend, even bringing him home-cooked meals in those little Tupperware containers…” Both Sylvia and Carter froze, their faces turning a sickening shade of gray. So it wasn’t just a one-time encounter. No wonder Sylvia had been working so much overtime last week, sneaking into bed long after midnight. She was busy playing housewife for my best friend. The funny thing was, Sylvia nearly burned our kitchen down during our first year of marriage and swore she would never touch a stove again. When did she overcome her trauma just to cook for my buddy? “Rowan…” Sylvia reached out, her voice cracking as she tried to spin a lie. I ignored her completely, asking the doctor a few calm questions about my ankle, cutting off whatever excuse was brewing in her throat. Sensing the sudden, suffocating tension in the room, the doctor quickly wrote a prescription and excused himself. Sylvia practically sprinted to the pharmacy counter to get away from us. Leaving just me and Carter in the stark white hallway. “Rowan, please don’t get the wrong idea. You were so swamped with that project last week, and I thought since you were busy…” He frantically pulled out his phone, his hands shaking. “If it bothers you, I’ll delete her number right now. Right in front of you. Don’t listen to that doctor, he’s just confused…” I stared at him. This was the same guy my father had sponsored out of a rundown Appalachian town. The guy who cried tears of gratitude and swore on his life he would always protect his little brother. Growing up, whatever I wanted, Carter would move mountains to get it for me. The limited-edition gaming consoles. The courage to talk to my high school crush. On the day Sylvia and I got married, with my parents already gone, it was Carter who walked me down the aisle. He had solemnly handed my hands over to Sylvia, threatening to break her legs if she ever made me cry. And now, they were plunging the knife into my back together. The concept of the shadows was too insane to explain, but even without it, the sheer weight of their betrayal robbed me of the energy to yell. I glanced at the phone he was shoving in my face, and my heart stopped. Wrapped around his wrist was a woven leather band. A very specific leather band. Sylvia had sent me a picture of it months ago. I had been working eighty-hour weeks while nursing Sylvia back to health after she developed an ulcer from stress. I ended up collapsing from exhaustion and was hospitalized for days. While I was unconscious, Sylvia, a woman who despised religion and believed in nothing but hard logic, flew to a spiritual retreat in Sedona. She hiked miles barefoot to a local shrine to get that exact leather band blessed for my safe recovery. But when I finally woke up, she told me she lost it at the airport on her way back. I spent hours comforting her as she cried over her clumsiness. Today, I realized I was the only one in the room who needed comforting. I stared blankly at his wrist until their overlapping shadows crept across the linoleum floor. “You’re back… Watch Rowan for a second, I need to… I have an errand to run…” The moment Sylvia walked back, Carter looked like he had been handed a pardon from the governor. He threw out a pathetic excuse and bolted toward the exit. Sylvia’s eyes tracked his every step until he disappeared behind the sliding glass doors. “Why is the bracelet you lost on his wrist?” My voice was dead. Sylvia flinched, pulled back from her trance, and sighed heavily as she sat next to me. “It’s just a lucky charm, Rowan. You woke up, you were perfectly fine, so you didn’t need it anymore. He got hurt, so I passed it along. That’s it.” I let out a dry, hollow laugh. “You told me it was lost.” Sylvia pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience wearing thin. “It’s just a piece of string. Stop being so petty. If it bothers you that much, I’ll fly back out and buy you a new one, okay?” “And the meteor shower yesterday? I couldn’t walk, and you still insisted on staying up there…” “Rowan.” A flicker of guilt finally cracked her composed mask. “He is your best friend. Are you really going to be this harsh on the guy who’s had your back for twenty years? What is the point of this?” Harsh. Petty. Carter was gone. Sylvia and I were sitting side by side on the waiting room chairs, yet on the floor, our second shadows were violently tearing themselves apart. I smiled softly. So this was the truth. She may have chosen me on paper, but her soul had already evicted me. I took a deep breath and stood up. “You’re absolutely right. There is no point.” From that day on, a thick, suffocating silence settled over our house. We had an unspoken agreement never to mention Carter’s name. Even though I knew the sports injury ointment in the trunk of her car was steadily running out. I spent my days quietly packing up my life. We kept up appearances well enough, but a few mutual friends started picking up on the cold war. “Rowan, what’s going on? Sylvia’s been completely zoned out at work lately. Did you guys have a fight?” “You two are the golden couple. Whatever it is, just talk it out. Don’t let it fester.” I had made my decision. I was ready to lay all my cards on the table. Then, Sylvia suddenly texted me. “Honey. Eighth anniversary today. I booked our favorite restaurant downtown. I really need to talk to you.” I typed a quick “Okay” and hit send. I sat at the corner booth, waiting. Thirty minutes. An hour. Two hours. Sylvia, a woman who considered being five minutes early a sign of disrespect, was nowhere to be found. My texts went unread. My calls went to voicemail. Above me, the mall’s PA system kept blaring the same urgent warning. “Attention shoppers. A severe hurricane warning has been issued for the area. The storm is making landfall earlier than expected. The mall will be closing immediately. Please evacuate the premises.” The restaurant manager came by with a sympathetic smile, gently asking me to leave. The entire dining room was filled with roses, candlelight, and expensive champagne. The only thing missing was my wife. I walked out into the deserted concourse. The mall lights flickered and died. I hadn’t driven. Outside, the wind was howling like a cornered beast, snapping tree branches in half and throwing debris across the flooded parking lot. The rain felt like needles against my face. I managed to sprint to the awning of a closed convenience store down the block, shivering violently. I have hated the dark and thunderstorms since I was a kid. Panic set in. My knuckles turned white as I dialed Sylvia’s number one last time. This time, the call connected. “Sylvia… where are you?” My voice broke. I sounded pathetic, even to my own ears. “You promised we were going to talk tonight. It’s our anniversary…” “Rowan.” Her voice cut through a wall of background noise. But beneath the static, I heard something else. A man crying. Carter. “Please don’t leave me. I’m terrified… Just this one last time. If you walk out that door, I swear I won’t make it through the night…” Finally, with a heavy sigh of forced pity, Sylvia delivered the final blow. “A massive crisis just hit one of my major projects. I have to stay and fix it tonight. I’m so sorry. Can I order you an Uber?” In a split second, the hurricane outside paled in comparison to the wasteland inside my chest. Every last drop of hope evaporated. I hung up the phone. I sat on the cold concrete step, pulling my knees to my chest. Out of nowhere, my brain supplied a memory. A private burner Finsta account Carter used back in college. The one he used to vent about things he couldn’t say in public. My frozen fingers fumbled with my phone. I typed in the old handle. The grid was entirely different now. It was filled with intimate photos. A woman’s hand resting on a steering wheel. A silhouette on a balcony. A familiar coffee order. I recognized Sylvia in every single pixel. The latest post was a blurry photo of two wine glasses. The caption read: “Just going to be selfish this one last time.” I scrolled down, torturing myself. That time Sylvia told me she was on a business trip to Chicago? She was in a cabin in Vermont with Carter. That time she missed her flight due to a “schedule mix-up”? Carter had begged her to stay another night in his apartment. My hands shook violently as I screenshot every post. I laughed until I choked on a sob, crouching in the dark alleyways of the city. By the end of it, I couldn’t tell if my face was soaked with rain or tears. I buried my face in my arms and waited out the storm. The next morning, the rain finally slowed to a drizzle. I stretched my stiff, freezing limbs and began the agonizing two-mile walk back to our empty house. Sylvia wasn’t home yet. I peeled off my ruined clothes, walked straight into the bedroom, and pulled out my suitcase. One single suitcase. That was all it took to pack up ten years of my life. The divorce papers I had drafted earlier were soaked and ruined from the rain. I printed a fresh stack. I signed my name on the dotted line, placed the pen down, and left the manila folder dead center on the dining table. I walked out the front door and pulled it shut. … “Why the hell did you insist on following me here?” Sylvia rubbed her temples, glaring at Carter as he trailed behind her up the driveway. “I don’t want Rowan to hate us. I want to explain things to him…” Hearing that, Sylvia’s frown softened slightly. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Honey. I’m home.” She took a deep breath, forcing a bright, apologetic smile, but the house was dead silent. She walked into the living room, her eyes scanning the sterile, perfectly clean space. Then, her gaze landed on the dining table. On the thick stack of papers. On my signature. The air vanished from the room. Sylvia gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Behind her, on the hardwood floor, the shadow she shared with Carter finally, violently, ripped apart.

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