Liam refused to change his profile picture to a matching one with me. Again. But he had no problem letting that pretty new girl in his lab start a rumor that he was her boyfriend. I gave him an ultimatum: either clear it up, or we’re done. Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice tired through the phone. “She only said that to get some creepy guy to leave her alone, Chloe.” He sighed. “I just spent ten hours on a plane to get back. Are you sure you want to fight about something so insignificant right now?” That was Liam’s go-to move. Matching profile pics? Insignificant. Posting a photo of me on his Instagram? Insignificant. And now, letting someone else call him their boyfriend and not shutting it down? Also, somehow, insignificant. What he really meant was that *I* was insignificant. I let out a long, slow breath, my voice surprisingly calm. “I don’t want to fight either, Liam. That’s why we’re breaking up.” 1 I always thought that when I finally said the word “breakup,” I’d be a sobbing mess. But I wasn’t. The tears had already run out during all the nights he’d ignored my calls and left my texts on ‘read’. “I don’t agree to this breakup,” Liam said flatly over the video call. His voice was cold, detached. He was multitasking, typing out an email on his laptop while he talked to me. His eyes never once met the camera. “Stop being dramatic, Chloe. You’re not thinking clearly. We’ll talk when I get back to campus.” *Stop being dramatic.* His favorite three words. I took a deep breath. “What’s the point, Liam? You and Ava look more like a couple than we do.” He finally paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. His eyes, for the first time, flicked up to the screen. “Why would you say that?” Ava. The new girl in Liam’s grad program. While I was lucky to see Liam for a quick dinner once every couple of weeks, Ava spent ten hours a day with him in the lab. The university’s homepage even had a featured story on outstanding research students with a picture of the two of them, side-by-side, smiling. Me and Liam? We had nothing. No matching profile pics, no tagged photos on Instagram, nothing. I only knew Liam was back in the country from his conference in Geneva because of Ava’s Instagram story. The night before, she’d posted a selfie of them at a café near the airport. The caption read: *So excited for my new mentor to show me the ropes! Big things coming! 😉* The comments section was a flood of “OMG you two are so cute together! ❤️” and “Finally!! 🙌” Seeing it felt like a punch to the gut. My head just about exploded. I blew up his phone, calling and texting, but got nothing but silence. When I finally tracked Ava down on campus, she was laughing with a group of friends, looking shy and pleased. I asked her what the hell her post was about. She just blinked at me, playing dumb. “Chloe, what are you talking about?” I pulled up the post on my phone. Ava smiled, her voice a syrupy sweet. “Oh, *that*? Liam’s just agreed to be the lead on my new project. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you’d take it the wrong way.” “The comments,” I said through gritted teeth. “People think you’re a couple.” “I can’t control what people assume,” she said with a little shrug. “It’s not like I forced them to write that.” I felt like I was punching a pillow. “Then please, clarify it. Tell them they’re wrong.” Ava flicked her hair over her shoulder, looking bored. “I’m super busy right now. Liam is waiting on my data for his paper, so I don’t really have time to police my comments section. Besides,” she added, her eyes sweeping over me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher, “I’m a victim of this rumor too, you know. Why are you attacking me?” She paused, then delivered the final blow. “Honestly, if people were so quick to believe it, maybe you should think about why that is.” That night, I cried until my eyes were swollen shut. It wasn’t just because of Ava, but because of Liam’s suffocating silence. How busy could a person possibly be that they can’t find ten seconds to reply to a text? When he finally answered my video call, he had the look of a man dealing with a hysterical child. “She did it to get some clingy guy off her back.” “She could have called campus security,” I insisted, my voice thick. “Why did she have to do *that*?” Liam sighed, the sound crackling through the speaker. “Because it was complicated and a waste of time. The professor’s deadline is breathing down our necks, and finishing the experiment is what’s important. I told Ava to delete everything. Can we just drop it now?” This was a person I’d loved for nine years, since we were dumb kids in high school. I tried one last time to be vulnerable, to crack myself open and show him how much he was hurting me. “Liam, it’s about your attitude. I just… I just need to feel secure.” The clacking of his keyboard started up again. His attention was already back on his laptop. “What I say doesn’t matter. Facts matter. And security isn’t something I’m supposed to give you. It’s something you should give yourself.” I was just so tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue about who was right or wrong anymore. I didn’t want to be that screaming, hysterical girl he saw me as. I sniffled, forcing back the lump in my throat. “Just change your profile picture to the one I sent you. We’ll drop it after that, okay?” I could hear the soft, rhythmic tapping of his finger on his desk. He was thinking. Not about me, but about how to word that email. The email he’d been focused on since the start of our call. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke. “Only the truth matters. And the truth is, I’m with you. What other people think doesn’t change the fact that you’re my girlfriend.” But I didn’t want the “truth.” I wanted all the stupid, meaningless, superficial things he looked down on. I wanted the proof. I was about to hang up when a new voice cut through from his end. A girl’s voice. Ava’s voice. “Liam, is she giving you a hard time again? I already explained everything to her the other day when she ambushed me. I can’t believe she’s still going on about it. I don’t get why she’s so insecure.” I froze. My blood ran cold. It felt like I was standing naked in the middle of a crowded street. Ava was right there. Next to him. Which meant she’d heard every single word I’d just said. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Liam, why is it that the first person you see after you land isn’t me, but her?” Before Liam could answer, Ava’s smiling face squeezed into the frame. “Chloe, don’t misunderstand—” I slammed my laptop shut. 2 The next day, Liam found me outside my lecture hall. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted. He probably flew back, dumped his bags, and went straight to the lab to work all night. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice flat. “That new Italian place you wanted to try is open. I’m free today. Let’s go.” He started walking, then realized I wasn’t following him. He turned, looking back at me with a slight tilt of his head. It was his signature move—a quiet, unshakeable confidence that I would always, eventually, walk toward him. Any other time, I probably would have run and thrown my arms around him. But today, I turned and walked in the opposite direction. I heard his footsteps behind me, and then his hand was on my wrist. He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t be like this, Chloe. I didn’t go to see Ava. She showed up at the airport to pick me up. There was some urgent data we had to go over, so we just talked in the lounge for a bit.” He held out a small paper bag. “I got you these on my layover in Brussels. They’re chocolates.” Last month, after another conference, he’d brought me the exact same box of chocolates. I’d specifically, carefully, told him then. “Please, no more snacks. I’m not a huge fan. If you want to get me a gift, maybe some jewelry? Like a handmade bracelet, or even just a cute hair tie would be great.” He had mumbled “okay.” I thought he’d actually heard me. The bag hung in the air between us. He must have seen the look on my face, because his brow furrowed slightly. “Open it.” “I told you I don’t like sweets. Did you forget?” Liam looked blank for a second. I managed a small, humorless smile. “Did you get these for me because no one else wanted them? Or did you remember, but decided it was just easier to buy the same gift for everyone to save time?” Silence stretched between us. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he started to speak, but a cheerful, sing-song voice cut him off. “Liam, there you are! The professor just posted in the group chat about dinner tonight. You’re the only one who hasn’t RSVP’d!” Ava bounced over, positioning herself right next to him as if she belonged there. Her eyes landed on the bag in his hand. She gasped, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my god, Liam, are you giving those to Chloe? I thought I told you, you don’t give a girl chocolate.” She held up her wrist, showing off a delicate silver chain that caught the sunlight. “Little things like this are so much better. I love mine.” She smiled sweetly. “But hey, if Chloe doesn’t want them, I’m starving. Mind if I take them off your hands?” She was already reaching for the bag, her fingers about to close around it, when Liam jerked his hand back. Ava’s smile faltered. Liam didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on me, his tone stubborn. “They’re for you. Take them.” I took the bag from his hand. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I’m sorry,” he started, “I just saw them and thought you might like—” I ignored him and turned to Ava with a bright smile. “You wanted these, right?” Ava’s expression flickered, but she nodded, her smile returning. “Well, if you don’t mind… Of course, if you want them, I would never take your gift.” “Oh, I don’t mind at all.” With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the entire bag into a nearby trash can. Ava froze, her eyes widening as they started to well up with tears. I gestured with my chin toward the garbage. “Since you want them so badly, feel free to go get them. It would be a shame to waste your dear Liam’s thoughtful gift.” Liam took a half-step forward, then stopped himself. He looked at me, and his expression was a complicated mess of confusion, exhaustion, and a deep, profound weariness I’d never seen before. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you have to be so damn aggressive all the time?” And in that moment, all I could do was laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Liam could remember Ava’s preferences and see her crocodile tears, but he couldn’t remember a single promise to me or see my own hands clenched so tight my knuckles were white. I took a deep breath. “That box of chocolates was your apology gift. I don’t want it, so I threw it away. Who exactly am I hurting?” Liam just frowned and turned to leave. “We’ll go to dinner when you’ve calmed down.” 3 A full week went by. Liam didn’t call. He didn’t text. He probably thought this was just another one of our usual fights. Me throwing a tantrum, him going silent, and then me, after I’d cooled myself down, coming back to him like nothing had happened. And he was right about one thing. I did go find him. I walked right up to the door of his lab. Several heads turned in my direction, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and speculation. One guy with a loud voice and a friendly face came over. “Hey, can I help you? You looking for someone?” “Liam,” I said. He let out a low whistle. “Damn. Another one. Our boy Liam is in high demand, huh?” He puffed out his chest. “You know, it’s a real mystery. I’m a catch, too. How come no one ever shows up here looking for Leo?” He was annoying. I tried to step around him. “Whoa, hey, don’t go,” he said, blocking my path, his expression turning a little more serious, though the grin never left his eyes. “For real, though, I’m just giving you a friendly heads-up. Liam’s already taken.” He nodded his head in Ava’s direction. “But hey, if you need someone to talk to, I’m way more fun than he is.” Just then, Ava looked up and saw me. Her friendly demeanor vanished, replaced by a guarded, hostile look. She walked over to me. “Chloe. What are you doing here?” I smiled. “Since nobody else seems willing to clear things up, I figured I’d do it myself.” Leo looked confused. “Clear what up?” Ava cut him off, her voice suddenly small and timid. “Leo, can you give us a minute? This is kind of a private thing.” After he shrugged and walked away, Ava looked at me, her eyes pleading. “I told you, I only said those things to get that guy to back off so it wouldn’t mess with my lab work. And… I honestly thought your relationship with Liam was so strong that no one would actually believe it. I guess… I guess I was wrong.” She bit her lower lip. “Maybe… maybe I just got lucky. Or maybe… maybe it’s because you and Liam are never really public about your relationship, so people just filled in the blanks? I mean, if you two were really solid, it wouldn’t matter what anyone else said, right?” Suddenly, a sly, knowing smile curved her lips. “You know, Chloe, I’m actually kind of jealous of you. You’ve been by his side for so long. But… if a relationship is so fragile that a little rumor can shake it, is that kind of company even worth having?” She immediately looked down, her voice getting louder, projecting for an audience. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean it like that. Yell at me if you want. Just please don’t be mad at Liam.” Right on cue, I heard his voice from behind me. “What’s going on?” I didn’t have to turn around to know he was frowning. I looked around the lab, at all the curious faces watching us. I clapped my hands together once, sharply, getting everyone’s attention. Then I held up the small digital voice recorder in my hand. “You know what, Ava? You’re right. I don’t think it is worth it.” I looked straight at her, my smile unwavering. “So let’s make things a little more interesting.” As her eyes widened in horror, I pressed the play button.

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The text confirming my canceled flight popped up just as I was heading to the airport for the graduation trip Chloe and I had been planning for years. As I stood there, dumbfounded, glowing text boxes started to float in front of my eyes. 【Here we go! This is the part where the FMC, feeling bad that the MMC has never been on a plane, cancels the best friend’s ticket and gives it to him. Then the best friend totally loses his mind and they have a huge fight.】 【Even when the best friend buys a train ticket and rushes to meet them, the FMC and MMC have already had a super romantic day together. They’re inseparable, and she barely even notices the best friend is there!】 【Yep, this is the trip that makes the FMC realize how dramatic the best friend is. Every fight they have just makes her see another one of the MMC’s good qualities. Eventually, they drift apart, and the FMC and MMC get their happily ever after. I ship it!】 【OMG, look! The best friend is about to text the FMC! The plot is starting, people! Get your popcorn!】 I was still hesitating, wondering if I should text Chloe to see what was going on, when a message from her lit up my screen. 【Hey Leo, Ethan has never been on a plane before, so I refunded your ticket and gave it to him.】 【You can just buy a train ticket and meet us there. We’ll be waiting for you in Zion!】 When I didn’t reply right away, another one came through. 【Are you mad? I know you’re not used to roughing it. You can be a little sensitive.】 【But Ethan can handle anything. Why is it such a big deal for you?】 I stared at the messages on my phone. The floating text boxes were right. It was all real. I pursed my lips, opened a travel app, and bought a train ticket. Only the destination wasn’t Zion. It was Denver. 1 After changing the cab’s destination to the train station, I put my phone away. 【Uh, weird. Why isn’t the best friend freaking out on her? If he doesn’t cause a scene, how is she supposed to get annoyed with him and see how amazing our MMC is? Ugh, he’s not following the script!】 【Right? Not only is he not fighting, he’s not even texting her back. And he bought a ticket to Denver? He’s totally trying to make her jealous! What a drama king. No wonder she doesn’t like him. Childhood friends means nothing!】 【The best friend is so manipulative. Not like our MMC. Ethan might not have money, but he’s independent and strong. Total main character energy, hehe.】 【This stupid side character needs to get with the program! Doesn’t he know he’s just an NPC? His only purpose is to move the plot forward. If he doesn’t cooperate, how is everyone supposed to see how great our boy Ethan is?】 【OMG you guys, look at the other feed! The main couple just checked in for their flight! In a few hours, their sweet love story officially begins! So excited!】 My hand holding the phone tensed. Ever since Ethan had transferred to our school, I couldn’t count the number of times Chloe had put me second for his sake, always calling me “sensitive” or “spoiled.” She said Ethan was independent and resilient, a real fighter despite his tough background. I, on the other hand, was privileged and didn’t know how good I had it. We’d make plans to see a movie on a Saturday, and she’d bail at the last minute. “Ethan said a single ticket is over fifteen dollars,” she’d text. “That’s like three hours of work at his part-time job. He’s not going.” “You can go by yourself, Leo. I agree with him. We shouldn’t waste our parents’ money.” This, from the girl whose parents had just bought her a fifteen-hundred-dollar laptop. Lunch for two became lunch for three. The steak and salmon I ordered would somehow end up on Ethan’s plate. “Leo, you should eat more salads,” she’d say. “It’s good for you.” I’m six feet tall and a hundred and eighty pounds. I’m not exactly overweight. The list goes on. Eventually, she even bailed on my eighteenth birthday party. I stubbornly waited for her to show up before I would blow out the candles. But eleven o’clock came and went. Then midnight. Not a single text from Chloe. I told myself she must have gotten held up, that something important came up. Then I saw it on someone’s Instagram story: a video of her and Ethan, joyriding late at night, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they laughed on some empty suburban street. It wasn’t until the next afternoon that she finally texted, saying she completely forgot it was my birthday. Our two-person world had been invaded by Ethan. And now this. This graduation trip was something Chloe and I had promised each other three years ago, back when we were freshmen. Her grades weren’t great, and I was on track for a top-tier magnet school. She begged me, practically in tears, to go to the same public high school as her. I caved. As a thank you, she promised me that when we graduated, we’d go to Zion National Park together. She said that’s where she was going to officially ask me to be her boyfriend. We’d go to the same college, get married after graduation. I believed her. I spent the next three years tutoring her, pulling her grades up until she was getting the same scores as me. But the moment Ethan showed up, it was like I became invisible. It was all about tutoring Ethan, helping Ethan, doing all the things with Ethan that *he’d* never done before. 2 She did well on her SATs, but not quite well enough for the top out-of-state universities. She just assumed I’d stick to our old plan, that I’d stay in-state with her. She didn’t know I’d already accepted my admission to UCLA. Honestly, I regretted giving up that magnet school for her. After being left behind so many times over the past couple of years, I wasn’t the same guy who put Chloe first anymore. My original plan was to tell her on this trip, to let her know that I was moving to California. But she left me behind again. For him. 3 It was Chloe who broke our promise first. 4 Flights to Utah in the summer are a nightmare to book. After Chloe canceled mine, there was no way I was getting another one on short notice. Even the train was sold out. Luckily, I used a booking app and paid a little extra to snag a last-minute ticket to Denver. A private roomette, even. I had just settled in when a text from Chloe came through. 「Leo, you’re taking the train, right?」 「Ethan said the seats are uncomfortable and it takes like two days to get to Zion.」 「But the scenery is incredible! You can’t see this stuff from a plane. You totally lucked out!」 I let out a bitter laugh and put my phone away without replying. After the initial shock of the canceled ticket, I did wonder if I should just scrap the whole trip. But after thinking about it, I decided to go anyway. The decision to see Zion wasn’t just about Chloe. It was a step in a plan I’d made for myself, and I wasn’t going to give it up for her. And stopping in Denver wasn’t so bad. I’d always wanted to see the Rockies. This worked out perfectly. Still, she knew how long and tiring the train ride was. But she went ahead and canceled my ticket without even asking, using my money and my time—not to mention my anxiety about traveling alone for the first time—all to give Ethan his “first flight experience.” Even though I had decided to let her go, there was a dull ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. The floating text boxes appeared again. 【Hehe, you gotta admit, the side character really does love the FMC. Even after being ditched countless times, he still follows her without a second thought. He doesn’t even care that he has to go to Denver first, tsk tsk!】 【This is great! I was worried the main couple’s romance wouldn’t move as fast without the best friend there as a catalyst, but look at him, he’s following the plot anyway! A little detour, but he’s still chasing after her. Perfect!】 【Seriously though, this guy has no shame. Ditched so many times and he still sticks to her like glue. What a pathetic simp, hahaha!】 I glanced at the comments and then looked away. 5 The roomette was quiet and peaceful. It was more expensive, but watching the landscape transform outside my window, the knot in my stomach slowly started to unwind. The next day, I got off in Denver. I bought a map, circled a few spots I wanted to see, and looked up some travel guides online. It was already late when I arrived, so I booked a hotel near a scenic overlook I wanted to visit in the morning. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I saw Ethan’s new Instagram post. 【Had to give up the last room to a cute couple, so I guess I’m stuck sharing with this one… 😉】 The picture was of their hotel room. He wasn’t aiming the camera at the bed, but you could clearly see Chloe’s reflection in the window, leaning against the pillows on the *one* bed in the room, scrolling on her phone. My hand tightened on my own phone. At the same moment, it buzzed. It was Chloe. 【Where are you? Ethan said the views on the way are amazing, send me some pictures.】 When I didn’t answer, a single【?】followed. I scoffed. I set my alarm for the morning, turned off my phone, and went to sleep. 【Ooh, look at him, playing hard to get. Does he really think ignoring her is going to make her worry?】 【And he’s looking up tourist stuff? Like he’s planning to stay in Denver for a few days? What is wrong with this guy? Doesn’t he know the main couple is waiting for him in Zion? So selfish, only thinking about himself!】 【Yeah, didn’t you see? Chloe was totally distracted when he didn’t text back, she was barely listening to Ethan. Can this side character stop being so extra? Will he die if he doesn’t try to ruin their relationship? Such a jerk!】 【Whatever, let him be dramatic. By the time he gets to Zion, the main couple will have already fallen for each other, hahaha. Let’s see how he feels then!】 【Right? It’s so annoying seeing him all relaxed and happy. The more of a brat he is now, the more heartbroken he’ll be in Zion. Can’t wait.】 【Let him have his fun. We’ll get to see him lose his mind soon enough, lol!】 I ignored the comments and closed my eyes. 6 After a fantastic day exploring Denver, I finally opened my phone to book my next train ticket. There were plenty of options to get to Utah from here. But I didn’t buy a ticket to Utah. I bought one to Flagstaff, Arizona. In the meantime, Chloe had tried calling me since I wasn’t answering her texts. I fumbled my phone and accidentally answered. “Leo? Where are you?” Hearing her voice on the other end, I paused. “What’s up?” I asked, my tone flat. There was a silence on the other end. She must have noticed my coldness. She tried to sound cheerful. “Leo, where are you? I can come pick you up from the station.” “No need,” I said. “You guys have fun.” Predictably, she exploded. “Leo, what is that supposed to mean? ‘You guys have fun’?” “Wasn’t it your dream to come to Zion? I canceled my trip to Florida with my friends to come to this godforsaken desert with you, and now you’re giving me an attitude?” When I still didn’t say anything, her anger seemed to cool slightly. “Leo,” she asked, her voice uncertain, “are you actually mad? Just because I gave Ethan your plane ticket?” Before I could answer, she let out a cold laugh. “Leo, that’s enough! How long are you going to keep this tantrum up?! I already told you, I just wanted to help Ethan fulfill his dream of flying on a plane! You’re really going to hold a grudge over that?! You are so impossible! No one else would ever put up with your terrible attitude!” I listened to the dial tone, and sighed. My terrible attitude? She was the one who abandoned me. I hadn’t even said a single rude thing to her. 【Hahaha, look at the side character, he’s so confused. He really thought she’d keep coddling him, especially with our understanding and kind MMC as a comparison.】 【Acting all high and mighty, deliberately staying in Denver, now going to Arizona! He really thinks he’s that important to her, lmao!】 【Tsk, tsk, doesn’t this guy know when to quit?】 I ignored the floating text and spent three days in Arizona, then took a bus up to the Grand Canyon. The scenery was something I could never have imagined back home in Illinois. The vast, sweeping canyon and the endless sky were breathtaking. I even took a tour to see the ancient petroglyphs. It was absolutely worth the trip. After another three days there, I finally boarded a shuttle bus to Zion. The strange thing was, over the past week and a half, I had barely thought about Chloe. It was like the moment I decided to let her go, she really did fade from my mind. I read an article once that said it only takes twenty-one days to break a habit. I think they were on to something. Even in the quiet of the night, she rarely crossed my mind. After that angry phone call, Chloe hadn’t contacted me again. Her Instagram, however, was a different story. She posted constantly. It was all her and Ethan. They were sharing a room. Making heart shapes with their hands in front of the cliffs. Posing at all the famous trailheads. They even took pictures in matching hiking outfits. Eight posts a day, and every single one was a photo of the two of them. But when I saw them, I felt surprisingly… nothing. In fact, I thought they looked pretty good together. 7 The moment I got a cell signal in Zion, a text from my mom came through. 「Leo, your acceptance letter from UCLA arrived!」 「By the way, Chloe’s mom just called to ask if we wanted to do a joint graduation party. Does Chloe not know you’re going to California?」 I was trying to figure out how to reply when someone slapped me hard on the shoulder. “Leo! It’s really you!” Standing in front of me were Chloe and Ethan. Chloe’s eyes lit up when she saw me, and she started to walk toward me. I gave them both a brief, indifferent glance and headed to the lodge’s front desk to check in. Ethan, seemingly oblivious to my cold shoulder, followed me. “Dude, what took you so long? Zion is awesome! Chloe and I have seen almost everything. Where do you want to go next? I’ll have Chloe take you.” I got my room key and started walking toward the elevators with my suitcase, ignoring him. As I passed Chloe, she grabbed my arm, her grip tight. She was frowning, her face clouded over. “Leo, are you done with your little tantrum? I’ve been deliberately ignoring you for days. Haven’t you figured out what you did wrong yet?” Her voice grew sharper. “What is your problem? Didn’t you hear Ethan talking to you? Or do you think you’re too good for him?” Ethan suddenly looked frightened, waving his hands and trying to defend me. “Chloe, don’t yell! You’re being so mean to him!” Then he looked at me sheepishly. “Leo, don’t get the wrong idea. She’s like this with everyone… except me. She doesn’t have much patience. I know you guys are childhood friends, and I know I can’t compare to you in her heart. I would never try to get in the way of your relationship, I promise!” He reached out to grab my arm again. But as I pulled my arm back, he stumbled backward dramatically, falling to the ground in a heap. “Ethan!” A hard shove sent me staggering. I lost my balance, and my suitcase and I went down with a crash. “Leo! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Chloe shrieked, standing over me. “You’re going to bully him right in front of me?! After he spent all this time worrying about you, wondering when you’d get here? If I’d known you were this toxic, we would’ve left days ago! Who cares what happens to you!” A sharp, fiery pain shot through my knee. I took a deep breath and pushed myself up. When I looked up, Chloe was cradling Ethan in her arms, glaring at me with pure disappointment. “Leo, apologize to Ethan. Right now.” Her voice was ice. “Otherwise, you can forget about us having a joint grad party.” I froze.

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During the press junket, a reporter from *Variety* leaned into her mic. “Mr. Hayes’s new film has some very intimate scenes with his co-star. As his wife, what are your thoughts on that?” I gave her my best media-trained smile. “I think it looks sweet.” The reporter blinked, thrown for a loop. “And you don’t think that will affect your relationship with Mr. Hayes? Especially since he’s famously never taken on romantic roles before.” “It won’t.” “Why is that?” “Because we’re already divorced.” The interview went viral. And my phone blew up. A voice, tight with fury, crackled through the speaker. “What the hell are you talking about, Ava? Since when are we divorced?” I knocked on his hotel room door, divorce papers in hand. “Since right now.” 1 **#EthanHayesAvaReedSplit** **#EthanHayesScarlettMay** **#ScarlettMayHomewrecker** The interview exploded, dominating the top three trending topics on Twitter. My phone was having a seizure from the non-stop calls and texts. I finally switched it to Do Not Disturb and leaned back in the black SUV, trying to breathe. On the tablet next to me, a steamy BTS clip from Ethan’s new movie played on a loop—him and Scarlett May, locked in a kiss so intense it practically melted the camera. My agent, Jen, stared at me, her mouth agape. “You’re divorced? When did this happen?” “He cheated,” I said, my voice flat. Jen instantly understood. She shut off the tablet, and the car fell silent, the only sound my own ragged breathing. She sighed, wanting to comfort me but not knowing how. “Ava, you and Ethan have been together for seven years. Everyone knows you’re Hollywood’s golden couple. Are you sure there isn’t some kind of misunderstanding?” I didn’t answer. I just lowered the tinted window, letting the cold city air rush in to dry the tears threatening to spill over. Last night, I got a text from a trusted source with a photo. Ethan and Scarlett May, checking into a hotel. I’d spent hours sobbing, my body convulsing with a grief so deep it felt like it was tearing me apart. Then, I called my lawyer and had him draw up the papers. It’s precisely because we were together for seven years that the betrayal was so unforgivable. 2 When I arrived at the hotel, I finally answered Ethan’s call. “Ava, what are you doing?” he hissed, his voice a chaotic mix of panic and rage. “When did we get divorced? Why am I finding out about this from a TMZ alert?” He only ever used my full name when he was furious. The last time was when I’d thrown a glass of red wine in Scarlett May’s face. “Right now,” I said, and knocked on his door. It swung open. There he was, phone in hand, our eyes locking. He was shirtless, with only a white hotel towel wrapped around his waist. I could see every cut of his six-pack, the sharp V of his hips, and the faint, fresh scratch marks on his arms. “What are you doing here?” I ignored him, pushing past into the suite and tossing the divorce papers onto the marble coffee table. “Sign them.” Ethan picked them up, glanced through them, and then tossed them onto the couch. He let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his perfectly messy hair. “Is this because of the movie? The scenes with Scarlett? It’s acting, Ava.” He sighed, the picture of exhaustion. “Look, I’m tired. Can you please not be dramatic right now?” “Ethan,” I said, my voice low, “no intimate scenes. That was the deal we made when we got married.” Ethan’s possessiveness was legendary. Any script that came my way with so much as a kiss, he’d either turn it down on my behalf or force the director to rewrite it. Once, during a scene, my co-star got caught up in the moment and improvised a kiss on my cheek. The next day, the actor was replaced. He hasn’t worked since. Ethan Hayes has always been a possessive, controlling monster. But now, for another woman, he had broken his own sacred rule. He gave Scarlett a privilege he’d always denied me. That was all the proof I needed. His expression hardened for a moment before melting back into a practiced smile. He stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my waist and nibbling on my earlobe. “This was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again, okay? As for this divorce nonsense, I don’t want to hear another word about it, understand?” I was about to push him away when a saccharine, girly voice drifted from the other room. “Ethan, honey, I think the shower drain is clogged…” “Oh! Ava! What are you doing here?” Scarlett May stood in the doorway, wearing a silk slip that barely covered her. Her long hair was damp and tousled, and a constellation of fresh hickeys dotted her neck. Noticing my gaze, she nervously tugged at the hem of her slip, a gesture that only made her look guiltier. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. She bit her lip, the picture of innocence. “Ava, it’s not what it looks like between me and Ethan…” Ethan instinctively reached for the suit jacket on the couch, about to cover her up. I was faster. I whipped out my phone, the camera flash firing several times. “Sign the papers,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “Or these photos go straight to every gossip blog in the country. Let’s see… ‘Hollywood’s Golden Boy Caught in Hotel Tryst with Rising Starlet.’ How does that headline sound?” He let out an irritated hiss. “She got drunk at the wrap party last night. It wasn’t safe for her to go home alone, so I brought her here. Nothing happened.” I ignored his pathetic excuse. “You have three seconds.” “Three.” “Two…” He snatched the papers off the couch, scrawled his signature across the line, and threw them at me. “There. Are you done playing games?” I nodded, picked up my copy, and turned to leave. “Ava,” he called out from behind me, his voice laced with a weary frustration. “You never used to be like this. When did you become so unreasonable?” I froze. It was the exact same thing he’d said the first time I met Scarlett. 3 Scarlett May was the new actress his agency had signed. She bore a passing resemblance to me, which had earned her the nickname “Baby Ava” online. At first, Ethan was indignant about it. He’d hold me and whine, “Baby Ava? My wife is one of a kind. That girl couldn’t hold a candle to a single strand of your hair.” He was always complaining about her riding my coattails. When she copied my style, he called it a cheap knock-off. When she copied my makeup, he called it tacky and pathetic. What he didn’t seem to notice was that he was talking about her more and more. This “unimportant” person was becoming a constant presence in our conversations. Even at dinner, he’d bring her up with feigned disgust. “Scarlett hates cilantro, too,” he’d scoff. “So unoriginal.” But how would he know she hated cilantro if they weren’t eating together? I finally snapped, slamming my fork down. “Are we ever going to have a conversation that doesn’t involve her name? What is it with you, Ethan? Do you have a thing for her or something?” He immediately swore his loyalty, even deleting her number from his phone right in front of me. A few days later, at an industry party, a sleazy producer started pressuring Scarlett to drink with him. In front of everyone, Ethan smashed a bottle over the guy’s head. He ignored me, standing there in shock, and wrapped a protective arm around Scarlett’s shoulders, his face dark with rage. “The talent at my agency,” he snarled, “doesn’t do ‘drinks’.” I went to the restroom to splash cold water on my face. When I came back out, Ethan was standing there with Scarlett, her cheek red and swollen. His voice was sharp. “If you have a problem, you take it up with me. Why did you hit her?” “Ava,” he said, his voice dripping with disappointment, “when did you become so unreasonable?” He didn’t come home that night. After a few days of silence, he showed up with a one-of-a-kind vintage diamond necklace from a London auction house. “Don’t be mad, baby,” he cooed. “Seeing her in that situation… it just reminded me of what happened to you, all those years ago. I lost my head.” He couldn’t protect the me from seven years ago, so he would protect the Scarlett of today. He fastened the necklace around my neck and cleared his schedule to spend time at home with me. I smiled for him, and he thought the chapter was closed. What he didn’t know was that I had found Scarlett’s finsta. It was filled with pictures from the three-day “work trip” they’d taken to Vegas together. 4 The way Ethan and I met feels like a scene from a movie. Back then, I was just another struggling actress in L.A., working as an extra. He was the heir to a hotel empire, defying his family to chase his own Hollywood dream. His parents, determined to teach him a lesson, had cut him off completely and were actively sabotaging his career. I saw him for the first time on a street corner at 2 a.m. I had just wrapped a night shoot and was eating a hot dog from a street cart. I felt a pair of eyes on me, and when I turned, I saw a pair of hungry, glowing green eyes staring back from a dark alley. I bought him a hot dog. We squatted there on the curb together, and he told me he was just another transplant trying to make it in the business. We talked all night, feeling that instant, electric connection of two souls who understood each other. After that, we met at that same spot every night, sharing stories from our miserable days on set. Inevitably, we fell for each other. We moved into a tiny, cramped studio in the Valley. In that room that always smelled like stale takeout and mildew, on that rickety metal bed frame, we loved each other with the desperate intensity of two people with nothing else to hold onto. For three years, we were a team. We had each other’s backs, pulling each other up as we clawed our way through the industry. The night he won his first major award, everything changed. He finally got his parents’ approval, and he finally told me who he really was. I was devastated by the lie. I locked him out of our apartment. To win me back, he stood outside in a torrential downpour all night until he collapsed from a fever and was rushed to the hospital. The first thing he did when he woke up was try to rip out his IV to come find me. My heart melted. He gave me a fairy-tale wedding and went public with our relationship at the peak of his career, giving me everything I could have ever wanted. Everyone called it a Cinderella story. After a while, I think even Ethan started to believe it. He slowly began to forget those three years of struggle, poverty, and pain in that tiny, moldy apartment. 5 Leaving the hotel, I checked my phone. The trending topic about Scarlett being a homewrecker had already been scrubbed from the internet. Ethan had posted a clarification on his Instagram: **[No divorce. The wife is just mad at me. Currently in the doghouse and trying to make it up to her.]** The comments were a flood of praise for what a doting husband he was, but there were plenty of people attacking me, too. 【*Seriously? All this over a movie role? Ava is so possessive it’s actually terrifying. Ethan has been a saint for her on screen for years. Her control issues scream ‘desperate for love.’*】 【*Ava is so embarrassing. She hit the jackpot with a rich, famous husband and she should just be grateful. He has to walk on eggshells just to do his job. You can take the girl out of the gutter, but you can’t take the gutter out of the girl.*】 【*My poor baby Scarlett is just a girl from a small town with a big dream. She gets a chance to act with a top star because she’s talented, and Ava bullies her for it. My heart breaks for her!*】 【*Unpopular opinion but… does anyone else think Scarlett and Ethan have way more chemistry?*】 【*OMG YES! Thank you for saying it! Honestly, if Scarlett does take her place, it’s Ava’s own fault for not being able to keep her man. Useless!*】 Normally, Ethan’s PR team would have deleted comments like these in a second. This time, probably to teach me a lesson, he let them stay. He even “liked” a few of them. Jen was on the phone, trying to get our own team to do damage control. I was too exhausted to care. I fell asleep in the back of the SUV. When I woke up, it was almost midnight. I had dozens of unread messages. As I started to scroll through them, a call from Ethan came in. “Ava, where are you? Why didn’t you come home?” I stayed silent. After a few seconds, I could hear his heavy breathing on the other end. He sighed. “Ava, you don’t really think that piece of paper means we’re actually divorced, do you? I was just playing along with your little game. Now be a good girl and come home.” He was right. Divorcing an heir to the Hayes fortune wasn’t that simple. In his eyes, those papers were meaningless. This whole day had just been him indulging the tantrum of a pet who had dared to show its claws. My voice was steady when I replied. “Ethan, you don’t really think there’s an ‘us’ after this, do you?” The papers might not be legally binding yet, but they were a declaration of war. It was over between us. Even if it got ugly, even if I had to burn everything to the ground, this marriage was ending. He let out a cold, lazy chuckle. “Ava, don’t joke like that. You know what happens when I get angry.” I could hear the rhythmic *tap-tap-tap* of his finger against a desk. He was serious now. I smiled, a real smile this time. “I can’t wait to see.” Before he could respond, I hung up. My reflection in the dark window stared back at me—hair a mess, face pale with exhaustion. This was the last time. The last time I would waste a single second of my life on a broken man and a rotten love. I knew how low and disgusting Ethan could be when he was angry. But I wasn’t afraid. And I would not back down. I would be the one left standing at the end of this. I had to be. 6 Ethan didn’t wait long to make his move. The lead role in a major historical epic I was set to star in was suddenly recast. The new lead? Scarlett May. With Scarlett’s star on the rise and her “brand” being so similar to mine, plus the pressure from Ethan, the director didn’t put up a fight. Ethan showed up on the first day of shooting. As the main investor, no one dared to ignore him. He was immediately surrounded by assistants holding umbrellas, portable fans, and handing him iced coffees. During a break, Scarlett perched cozily next to him, chattering away about her ~acting process~. Ethan just gave her noncommittal grunts, his dark eyes fixed on me across the crowded set. I ignored him, standing under an awning and reviewing my script. My assistant fanned me, whispering, “Isn’t Mr. Hayes here to see you? Why aren’t you sitting with him? You guys aren’t avoiding each other in public now, are you?” There was an empty chair right next to him. She didn’t know the whole story, and just assumed he was there on a surprise set visit. I knew he was offering me an olive branch, a chance to come crawling back. But if he was serious about reconciling, would he be letting Scarlett sit that close to him? Not to mention the fact that he’d stolen my role. Threatening my career was a low blow. Unforgivable. Sensing my irritation, Ethan waved over an assistant. “Scarlett loves that plum juice from the cafe down the street,” he announced loudly. “Get one for the entire cast and crew.” The crew immediately started fawning over them, cooing about how sweet their relationship was. Scarlett blushed prettily. She fluttered her eyelashes and glanced my way. “Oh, you guys, stop. Ava is right there.” Everyone suddenly remembered that the actual wife was present. A mortified silence fell over the set. 7 The atmosphere was thick with tension, and it only got worse when we started shooting the next scene. It was a confrontation where the heroine discovers the supporting female character (my new role) has been sabotaging her, and slaps her across the face. It was supposed to be a major, satisfying moment for the audience, so the slap had to look real and hard. I got into character, my eyes filled with hatred as I looked at Scarlett. “So you know it was me,” I sneered. “What are you going to do about—” Before I could finish my line, Scarlett’s hand cracked across my face. The force of it sent me stumbling back. My cheek immediately started to swell and turn red. Scarlett’s eyes filled with tears as she bit her lip. “Oh my god, Ava, I’m so sorry! Your performance was just so powerful, I got lost in the moment…” The director yelled, “Cut!” My assistant rushed over with an ice pack, glaring at Scarlett. “If you were so ‘in the moment,’ why didn’t you finish the scene?” I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I just covered the redness with some powder and told the director I was ready to go again. Over the next hour, Scarlett either “forgot” her lines, “messed up” her performance, or “improvised” new dialogue, slapping me a grand total of six more times. I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Scarlett just stood to the side, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I know you’re a professional, but I’m still new to this. I just need a few more takes to really get the emotion right. Thank you for being so patient with me.” The director just laughed nervously. In his eyes, I was the investor’s wife, and Scarlett was the investor’s rumored girlfriend. He couldn’t afford to piss off either of us until he knew who the real winner was. “Uh, you know what? Let’s move on to the next scene for now. Maybe we can tweak this one a bit.” But Ethan, who had been silent this whole time, cleared his throat. He caught my eye and raised a single, challenging eyebrow. He was waiting for me to surrender. I looked away from him, back to the director. “Let’s keep going.” The director glanced at Ethan’s thunderous expression. “Well, maybe… maybe we can just fake the slap? Use a different camera angle?” After a few tense seconds of silence, Ethan spoke, his voice dangerously smooth. “No need.” The director breathed a sigh of relief, but then Ethan added, “We don’t need camera tricks. An actress as dedicated as Ms. Reed wouldn’t want to resort to such unprofessional methods.” He had backed me into a corner. I suddenly remembered a rumor I’d heard a few weeks ago—that Scarlett had been “accidentally” slapped by an actress on another set and had cried for hours. Ethan had stormed onto the set, dragged her into the actress’s dressing room, and made her slap the other girl back. He had said something similar to me once. Years ago, a director had slapped me to “get a better reaction.” That night, Ethan had gently pressed a warm cloth to my swollen cheek, his jaw tight with rage. “Don’t worry, Ava,” he’d gritted out. “One day, I’ll help you slap him back.” He did more than that. He not only returned the slap, but he also made sure that director never worked in Hollywood again. The memory was a sharp, painful sting. It was okay, Ava, I told myself. You never needed him to fight your battles for you. It was just a matter of time. Just like now. As Scarlett prepared to slap me yet again, using a forgotten line as her excuse, a new sound cut through the tense silence on set. The sharp, rhythmic *click-clack* of expensive heels on concrete. A cool, drawling voice echoed through the soundstage, dripping with disdain. “Where in God’s name did you find this talentless hack, and why is she pretending to be the lead in my production?”

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My brother and the fifty-something man from next door were in the middle of it when I walked in. My mother completely lost it. She broke a chair over the old man’s groin, permanently ending his fun. And for that, my brother hated me. He drugged me, stuffed me in a sack, and left me at an abandoned construction site to be used and discarded by strangers. I died. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on that same day, right before I opened the door to my brother’s room. This time, I quietly turned the lock. Let them have their fun. 01 “Ugh… Are you sure it won’t hurt? Be gentle… I’ve… I’ve never done this before…” Hearing my brother’s voice from behind the door, I realized I was back. Reborn. In my last life, it was this same sweltering afternoon. I was taking out the trash when I heard strange noises coming from my brother’s room. On a whim, I crept closer. The door wasn’t fully closed. Through the crack, I saw my brother, pinned to the bed by Mr. Henderson from next door. They were in a… complicated position. A rush of blood went to my head. I thought my brother was being assaulted. Mr. Henderson was my dad’s best friend of over twenty years, for god’s sake. I screamed and threw the door open. My mother heard the commotion and came running. The sight made her snap. She grabbed a wooden stool and brought it down on Mr. Henderson, again and again. In a symphony of screams, his future as a man was destroyed. And my nightmare began. My mother blamed me for everything. “If you’d kept a better eye on your brother, this pervert would have never gotten to him!” They pulled me out of school and made me go with my brother to therapy. With professional help, he eventually started showing interest in girls again. Everything seemed to be back on track. But my brother never forgave me. He put something in my drink, stuffed me in a burlap sack, and dumped me at an abandoned construction site. That day, my fingernails were torn from their beds. I heard the sickening crack of my own bones. Fists, cigarette butts, beer bottles… I was a broken doll, torn apart again and again. I died in agony. As my consciousness faded, I saw my brother standing a short distance away, recording it all on his phone. “You bitch,” he sneered. “You ruined my life. You deserve this.” After I died, my mother shed a few tears. Then she sighed. “You were always unlucky, sweetie. I’ve already lost you. I can’t lose your brother, too.” Because I had died a “dirty” death, a disgrace to the family name, I wasn’t even allowed to be buried in the family plot. My mother sold my body for a pittance to be the “ghost bride” for some old bachelor who had died young. She used the money to bribe a third-rate college to accept my brother. “Oh… Mr. Henderson…” “Relax, kiddo. Just let it happen. I promise you’ll love it…” The grotesque sounds from the room pulled me back to the present. I crept forward and quietly, firmly, locked the door. This time, let him have all the fun he wants. 02 The second I walked back in the house, my mother grabbed my ear and twisted, her voice a sharp hiss. “Where the hell have you been, you useless girl? Taking out the trash isn’t an all-day affair! Always looking for a way to slack off!” Her eyes were filled with impatience. “What are you standing there for?” She gave me a hard shove. “Go make dinner! Your brother is a growing boy. If he goes hungry, I’ll skin you alive!” On the couch, my dad sat with his feet up, smoking. As I passed, he blew a cloud of smoke in my face. “Told you girls don’t need an education,” he drawled. “Fills their heads with nonsense. My buddy Rick’s daughter, she dropped out of middle school to work in a factory. Sends her old man three hundred bucks a month, regular as clockwork. Rick just found her a husband, too. Guy paid twenty grand for the dowry!” I tuned him out and went into the kitchen. On the cutting board was a mountain of fiery habanero peppers. My brother loved spicy food. I was severely allergic. Even a drop of the juice would make my skin break out in painful, blistering welts. But in this house, for as long as I could remember, there was never a single dish on the table I could eat. I’d tried to protest once. My mother had just scoffed. “Allergic? You’re just being dramatic. Fine, don’t eat. You’re fat as a pig anyway.” I looked down at my arms. My wrist bones jutted out, sharp and skeletal. I was five-foot-one and weighed ninety pounds. I thought about what I had just seen. Mr. Henderson was a gym teacher, all muscle and sinew. My brother’s frail frame… His first time was probably not going to be a gentle experience. Tearing was a definite possibility. A wicked idea began to bloom in my mind. A slow, cruel smile spread across my face. So, you like it spicy, do you, dear brother? Well, tonight, your big sister is going to treat you. You’ll eat until you’re full, until it hurts, until you never forget it. I turned on the faucet, the water rushing. I pulled on a pair of gloves and grabbed a handful of peppers, three times the usual amount. The sharp, acrid smell filled the kitchen. 03 This time, since they weren’t interrupted, my brother didn’t get home until seven. The whole family was already at the table, waiting for him. He was walking strangely, his legs held stiffly apart, each step a pained, awkward shuffle. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. The moment my mother saw him, she shot out of her chair, her face a mask of concern. “Honey! What’s wrong? What happened?” “N-nothing…” my brother stammered, waving a weak hand. “I just… I fell.” “You fell?” My mother’s voice shot up an octave. “Where did you fall? Let me see! Is it bad?” She reached for his waistband, ready to inspect him right there. My brother flinched back in horror. The sudden movement clearly sent a jolt of pain through him. He sucked in a sharp breath, the sweat on his forehead beading up. He was mortified, and his voice was practically a shout. “Mom! I’m not a kid anymore! Stop trying to pull my pants down all the time!” My mother froze, then replied, bewildered. “You’ll always be my baby! There isn’t a part of you I haven’t seen! Now let me look, or I’ll worry myself sick!” Trapped, my brother had no choice but to pretend he was fine. “I’m really okay, Mom! It doesn’t hurt anymore!” “Really?” she asked, her eyes still glued to his rear end. “Really! Look!” To prove his point, he clenched his jaw and managed a couple of small, stiff hops. With each landing, his face twitched uncontrollably. He quickly changed the subject. “I’m starving, Mom! Can we eat now?” The word “starving” was the magic password. My mother’s attention immediately shifted. “Yes, yes, of course! We can’t let my baby boy go hungry!” She bustled him to the table and pushed him down onto a hard wooden chair. I watched, impassive, as his body went rigid the moment he made contact with the seat. He subtly shifted his weight, perching precariously on the very edge of the chair, most of his weight supported by his legs. My mother, oblivious, was already piling food onto his plate. “Here, honey, your favorite spicy chicken gizzards! I told your sister to add extra peppers, just for you! And the fried intestines! Eat up! Everything is extra hot and spicy tonight!” My brother stared at the volcanic mound of food on his plate, his hand trembling as he picked up his fork. He slowly, painfully, brought a bite to his mouth. With every swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbed in agony. The sweat never stopped trickling down his face. But the slower he ate, the more my mother piled on. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You don’t like it? Is it where you fell? Does it hurt?” He could only shake his head, forcing out a muffled “I’m fine” before shoveling another fiery mouthful into his mouth. I sat quietly across the table, eating my plain boiled vegetables, hiding my smile behind my bowl. 04 That night, just as I finished the dishes, there was a knock at the door. It was a delivery. Curious, I opened the package. The contents were… educational. A tube of ointment for treating tears and abrasions. A bottle of personal lubricant. And a small, uniquely shaped toy. The note read: “Loosen up. It won’t hurt so much next time.” Mr. Henderson was so thoughtful. I had just put everything back in the bag when my brother shuffled out of his room, clutching his backside. He glared at me. “Emily! Who said you could touch my stuff? Keep your grubby hands to yourself!” He snatched the bag and limped back to his room, slamming the door. I have to say, the ointment worked wonders. The pain subsided quickly. Now, my brother heads next door every day, claiming he’s “working on his core” with Mr. Henderson. My parents, unbelievably, bought it. My mother even started making him special “strengthening” soups when she noticed the faint red marks on his neck. This went on for almost a month before my mother finally got suspicious. Deep in the back of the bathroom cabinet, she found the half-empty bottle of lube and the toy, still sticky with a faint yellowish residue. She exploded. 05 “Emily!” My mother stormed into my room and slapped me across the face. My ears rang, my vision swam. When I could finally focus again, I looked up at her, my eyes stinging. “Mom, what did I do now?” “Don’t play dumb with me!” she shrieked, her body trembling with rage. She threw the items at my face, her disgust absolute. “You disgusting slut! How dare you buy this filth and hide it in my house! Tell me! How many boys have you been with? I knew I should have smothered you in your crib!” Right. My birth. She just had to bring that up. When she was pregnant with me, all the signs pointed to a boy. She was ecstatic. Then I came out, a girl. Her first instinct was to abandon me at the hospital. It was my grandmother who stopped her, claiming a fortune teller had said I was a “brother-bringer,” that having a daughter first would ensure a son would follow to be cared for. That’s the only reason I’m here. And sure enough, a year later, my brother, Evan, was born. From that moment on, my only purpose in life was to take care of him. My mother even made me start school a year late so we would be in the same grade, so I could look after him. I got the highest score in the city on the high school entrance exam, but I had to go to a private school. The principal had promised that if I enrolled, they would accept my brother, despite his abysmal grades. And for that, I was grateful. If I hadn’t been useful in that way, I probably would have been forced to drop out and get a job. I stared at her, my voice hard. “Mom. That’s not mine.” Her face turned purple with rage. She raised her hand to hit me again. “Only girls use this stuff! If it’s not yours, is it mine? You’re still going to lie when the evidence is right here? I’ll beat the truth out of you, you little whore!” This time, I dodged it. Her hand froze in mid-air, her face a picture of shock. It was the first time I had ever defied her. In the past, the slightest hint of rebellion would be met with the threat of being pulled out of school. And for the chance to escape this house one day, I had endured it. For years. But I’ve already died once. What was there left to be afraid of? I met her stunned gaze, my voice steady. “I said it’s not mine. There are other people in this house. Why am I the first one you suspect? And…” I glanced at the items in her hand, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “do you really think I could afford to buy this?” 06 In this house, my brother’s daily allowance was five dollars. Mine was five dollars a month. We weren’t allowed to have leftovers. To save money, I skipped breakfast, chugging water to quell the dizziness from hunger. I used the cheapest, no-name brand tampons, carefully rationing each one. I’d thought about collecting cans after school, but between the endless chores and tutoring my brother, there was barely enough time to sleep. And still, my mother called me an “ungrateful brat.” That lube and toy didn’t look cheap. It would probably take me a year to save up enough to buy them. Her expression shifted. She knew I was right. Her eyes darted around as a new, horrifying thought occurred to her. “That bastard, John!” she snarled. “He’s been bringing his cheap whores into my house! I’ll kill them both!” She stormed into the kitchen. I followed silently. She rummaged through the junk drawer until she found a tube of industrial-strength superglue. She swapped the lube for the glue. Then, she took a habanero pepper from the fridge and meticulously coated the toy, inside and out, a cruel smile on her face. “You wanna mess with my husband, you little tramp? I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” She put the items back in their hiding place. When she turned and saw me, she pointed a finger in my face. “If you breathe a word of this to your father, I’ll rip your tongue out and throw you out on the street! Do you hear me?” I nodded obediently. “Don’t worry, Mom. My lips are sealed.” Oh, dear mother. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re the one who just destroyed your precious son. 07 My brother came back from next door, smelling of sweat and something else I didn’t want to identify. But this time, Mr. Henderson was with him. “Hey, Sarah,” he said to my mom with a folksy grin. “Sorry to bother you so late. My power’s out. The repairman can’t come ’til morning.” My mother was all hospitality. “Don’t be a stranger, David! Evan’s been doing so well since he started training with you. He looks stronger, taller even. You’re staying here tonight! Emily!” she barked at me, “you’re sleeping on the couch. Get your room ready for your uncle.” Before I could say anything, Mr. Henderson jumped in. “Oh no, Sarah, don’t trouble the girl. It’s not right.” He slung an arm around my brother’s shoulders. “I’ll just bunk with Evan. We can talk strategy before bed, right, sport?” My brother’s face turned beet red. “Yeah, Mom,” he mumbled. “Let Uncle David stay with me. Don’t make Sis sleep on the couch.” My mother saw nothing wrong with this. “Alright then! That’s settled. Come on, sit down, dinner’s ready.” She turned and saw me still standing there, and her good mood vanished. She pinched my arm, hard. “Emily! What are you waiting for? Get your uncle a plate!” I bit back a cry of pain and went to the kitchen. When I came back, the scene under the table was… illuminating. Mr. Henderson’s foot was rubbing against my brother’s calf, slowly, inch by inch, making its way up his pant leg. My brother was rigid, his ears bright red, his head bowed low over his plate. Mr. Henderson’s toes finally reached their destination. “Ah!” My brother shot up from his chair. “Honey! What’s wrong?” my mother asked, alarmed. “N-nothing!” he stammered. “Just… just a leg cramp!” Mr. Henderson smoothly retracted his foot. “Don’t worry, Sarah. Probably just overdid it with the core exercises this afternoon. I’ll give him a good stretch and massage in the room later. That’ll fix him right up.” My mother was overjoyed. “Oh, David, you’re too good to him! You take better care of him than I do!” Mr. Henderson shot a meaningful look at my blushing brother. “Well, Sarah, Evan’s like a… son to me. Who else am I going to spoil?” My mother just beamed and put another chicken leg on my brother’s plate. “Eat up, sweetie! You need your strength!” Then she tossed the greasy chicken skin into my bowl. “What are you staring at? Eat! And then go clean up your brother’s room.” I picked up my chopsticks and started eating, a small smile playing on my lips. Tonight was going to be a long night. 08 In the middle of the night, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from my brother’s room.

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We had been secretly married for five years. Her life was a revolving door of tabloid rumors, but she would never, ever publicly acknowledge me. On the set of a late-night talk show, the host playfully asked if I was dating anyone. Even she, my wife, chimed in with a laugh. “Leo, I know so many wonderful, single women. Should I set you up?” In my past life, that was my breaking point. I pulled out my wedding ring and held it up for the cameras. A young, rising star named Dylan Croft, who was also on the panel, burst into tears and ran off stage. My wife, the award-winning actress Claire Sterling, said nothing, but from that day on, she grew colder and colder. When a sudden illness landed me in the hospital, bleeding out and needing emergency surgery, she was at a Michelin-star restaurant, celebrating Dylan’s birthday. When Dylan hired thugs to assault me and I called her, begging for help, she just watched, her expression blank. It was only then that I understood. In her heart, I was nothing more than a dirty secret, a piece of furniture to be kept in the dark. Reborn into this life, I just smiled at the host. “I am, actually. She’s not in the business. We’re getting married at the end of the month.” 1 A collective gasp went through the studio audience. No one had expected me to announce my relationship on live television. Claire’s face darkened. Her hand tightened around her water glass, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. She started to say something, but Dylan, sitting next to her with his boyish charm, jumped in first. “Whoa, Leo, you’ve been holding out on us! If you hadn’t lost that round of ‘Truth or Dare,’ were you just going to keep it a secret forever?” The show was broadcasting live, and Dylan’s comment sent the online chat into a frenzy. 【*Leo Vance’s fans must be devastated! Your man is officially off the market!*】 【*Hehe, at least our Dylan is focused on his career! No time for girls!*】 【*??? Devastated? Leo is an actor. He has a whole shelf of Oscars. He’s allowed to have a personal life. Unlike some people who still haven’t managed to book a decent role.*】 【*Besides, Leo has always said he would settle down when the time was right.*】 I smiled politely. “It might be a secret, but at least I’m not the other woman.” In my past life, I thought Dylan was an innocent victim, that he didn’t know about me and Claire. But just before I died, he had visited me, gloating about how much Claire adored him. He knew from the very beginning. Dylan’s face flickered for a second, but the other guests didn’t notice. They were all leaning forward, curious. “Come on, Leo, who is she? You have to show us a picture!” “She’s not famous? I’m dying to know who could snag Leo Vance!” I shook my head with a small smile. “She’s very private. I’ll introduce you all when the time is right.” Just as I finished speaking, a derisive snort came from Dylan. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with a challenge. “Leo, are you sure this person even exists? Or did you just make her up? I mean, you’re not getting any younger. It would be pretty embarrassing if you were still single at your age. Right, Claire?” He fluttered his eyelashes at her, a cocky, youthful grin on his face. My hand clenched into a fist under the table. To my horror, Claire gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Dylan’s grin widened. A bitter laugh welled up in my throat. For a second there, I had actually hoped for something different. The other guests tried to smooth things over. “Don’t mind Dylan, Leo, he’s just kidding around!” “It’s his personal life, guys, we shouldn’t pry.” I was about to say something, but a woman’s voice cut through from the studio entrance. “Excuse me, is Leo Vance here? I’m here to pick him up.” 2 All heads turned. A young woman was standing just outside the studio doors. She had stylishly tousled dark hair, sharp, intelligent eyes, and a calm, confident air about her. When her eyes met mine, even I was taken aback for a second. She smiled at me. “Leo. Ready to go?” The live chat exploded. 【*OMG OMG IS THAT HIS GIRLFRIEND?! SHE’S GORGEOUS!*】 【*HOLY CRAP, I thought he was making it up! She came to pick him up from work!*】 I stood up and nodded to the other guests. “Well, that’s my cue.” The moment I stood, I felt a pair of eyes burning into my back. I didn’t turn around. Just as I reached the door, Claire’s cold voice stopped me. “Leo.” I paused and looked back at her. “Yes, Claire?” Her face was a mask of displeasure. Dylan chimed in with a saccharine smile. “It’s my birthday party tonight. Claire is throwing it for me. Are you coming?” I glanced at Claire. She said nothing. “No,” I said, turning to leave. “Happy birthday, Dylan. I have other plans.” 3 The feeling of being watched didn’t go away until I was safely in the back of her car. I turned to the woman beside me. “Thank you for that, Maya.” Maya Torres smiled. “No problem, Professor. I was watching the show live. Just happened to be in the neighborhood.” I didn’t press her for more details. She didn’t ask any questions, just said, “Where to? I’ll give you a ride.” I gave her the address of the house I shared with Claire. When we pulled up, she held up her phone. “Hey, can I get your number?” I hesitated for a moment. She laughed. “You never know, I might need a favor from you one day, too.” On that, I nodded and we exchanged numbers. As she drove off, I walked into the house. We had bought it before we got married. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was filled with memories. We used to spend our days off here, playing video games and binge-watching shows. I never wanted to move. But now, Claire was rarely here. The moment I stepped inside, my agent, Ken, called. “Leo, you need to see this. Check Twitter. Now.” 4 **#ClaireSterlingXDylanCroftOfficial** **#HollywoodsNewItCouple** I thought that in this new life, I would be immune. But seeing those words on the screen still felt like a punch to the gut. **[Claire Sterling V: So excited to introduce you all to my boyfriend. The one and only. @DylanCroft]** **[Dylan Croft: Here’s to a long and happy future together, my love. ❤️]** Five years of dating, five years of marriage. Ten years I had waited for her to acknowledge me. And now, she had given it to someone else without a second thought. Ken’s voice was still buzzing in my ear. “There have been rumors for weeks that Dylan was a homewrecker! She’s doing this to protect him! That little bastard *is* a homewrecker! You and Claire have been married for years, she can’t just—” “Ken,” I interrupted, my voice quiet. “How’s that visa application coming along?” He went silent. “Are you sure you want to do this, Leo? Quit the business, move abroad?” I nodded to myself. “I’m sure.” Ten years ago, I gave up my dreams for Claire. I wasn’t going to let her ruin the rest of my life. 5 Claire and I grew up together. My parents died when I was young, and I was a shy, introverted kid living with relatives who didn’t want me. The neighborhood kids used to pick on me relentlessly. Claire was always there, a tiny, fierce protector, fighting my battles for me. When we were fifteen, her parents’ business went bankrupt. They both jumped from a bridge, leaving her orphaned and buried under a mountain of debt. She was devastated, suicidal. I was the one who held her, who told her we would get through it together. We were each other’s lifelines, two broken kids clinging to each other in the dark. When we were eighteen, I was accepted to Juilliard. It was my dream school. The day the letter came, Claire just held my hand, her eyes red, and stood with me in silence all night. The next day, I turned down my acceptance and signed with a talent agent. I was going to pay off her parents’ debt. She was too young, too brilliant to have her future crushed by it. But Hollywood is a brutal place. I worked around the clock, taking any role, any gig I could get. I drank so much at “meetings” with producers that I ended up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. But five years after my debut, a hit TV show finally gave me the break I needed. I paid off every last cent of her family’s debt. People asked me if it was worth it. And at the time, watching Claire cook for me in our tiny apartment, her presence a warm, steady comfort, I thought it was. But now… A notification on my phone pulled me from my thoughts. A call from Claire. I hesitated, then answered. Her voice was cool. “Quite the performance tonight, Leo. Found another woman to play your little games with. Trying to make me jealous? It didn’t work. I know how much you love me.” I stayed silent. In the background, I heard a familiar voice. “Claire, babe, come cut the cake!” “Coming!” she called back, then said to me, “Dylan and I have a new movie coming out, you know that. We’ll ‘break up’ after the press tour is over. Don’t overthink it. Be a good boy and wait for me at home. I’ll bring you back your favorite takeout.” 6 My mind drifted back. Claire had gotten into acting by accident. She had come to visit me on set one day, and a director had spotted her and offered her a role. I had immediately said no. Her dream was to be a research scientist. Acting would derail everything. But she went to the director behind my back. Later, she had held me, her eyes filled with tears. “Leo, I don’t want you to have to struggle for me. I want to make a lot of money so you can have a good life.” And just like that, Claire gave up her dream for me and threw herself into the industry. We saw less and less of each other. The first time a tabloid linked her with a co-star, she flew five hours to see me, held me, and swore it was a misunderstanding, that she would handle it. I suggested we go public with our marriage. She said it would hurt our careers, that the fans wouldn’t understand. Not yet. But she promised me that I was her only husband, her only one. I believed her. I let it go. And then… Dylan Croft appeared. He was the innocent young actor, being harassed by a powerful producer at a party. He ran, fell into a pool, and Claire jumped in and saved him. A beautiful, tragic hero, soaked and shivering in her arms. The next day, they were on the cover of every magazine. This time, Claire didn’t say a word. 7 By the time I came back to myself, Claire had already hung up. I didn’t dwell on it. I called my lawyer and told him to draft the divorce papers. Before I left the country, I was going to sever every tie to her. But that night, she came home. And she brought Dylan with her. He peeked out from behind her, his cheeks flushed, and bounced over to me. “Ta-da! Leo, we brought you leftovers from my birthday party! You have to try the cake!” Claire stood by the door, a look of weary indulgence on her face. “Slow down, Dylan, you’re drunk. You’re going to fall.” She paused, then looked at me. “He had too much to drink. It’s not safe for him to go home alone. He’s staying here tonight.” She added, “Oh, and you make a great hangover cure, don’t you? Go make him a cup.” My ears were ringing. My hands started to tremble. She was cheating on me, and now she was bringing him into our home? And asking me to take care of him? “He has assistants, doesn’t he?!” I snarled. Dylan never went anywhere without a team of at least three people. “He can get a hotel!” Claire frowned. “Leo, when did you become so petty?” My voice shook. “This is my home! Get out!” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, her tone softened. “Okay, Leo. Fine. I’ll call someone to pick him up.” She pulled out her phone, but at that moment, a loud cry echoed through the house. Dylan had tumbled down the stairs. Claire’s face went white. She dropped her phone and ran to him. The calm, elegant actress was gone, replaced by a frantic, terrified woman. “Dylan!” He lay in her arms, his eyes closed. Claire’s face was a mask of fury. She glared at me. A cold dread washed over me. “It wasn’t me…” But her hand was already connecting with my face, the slap echoing in the silent house. “Are you saying he threw himself down the stairs just to frame you, Leo? He’s an actor! You know how much his face means to him!” The blow stunned me. And with it, the last flickering light of hope in my heart was extinguished. She was helping Dylan up, ready to rush him to the hospital, when I stopped her. “Wait.” I held out the divorce agreement. “Sign this. Or you’re not leaving.” She shot me a look of pure hatred. In the past, whenever we fought, I would make her buy me something, make her sign the bill as a way of making up. She must have thought this was another one of my games. Without even looking at it, she scribbled her name across the bottom. Then she carefully helped Dylan out the door. Just before they disappeared, Dylan looked back at me and smirked. 8 The news that Dylan was in the hospital was everywhere. The photos showed him looking pale and fragile, a bandage on his forehead, with Claire by his side, tenderly caring for him. The internet was flooded with posts praising their beautiful, devoted relationship. Ken, who had been my agent since day one and knew everything, was livid. He came over and cursed Claire’s name. “Is the visa ready, Ken?” He nodded. “You can pick it up in three days.” I spent those three days quietly getting my affairs in order. On the third day, another headline exploded online. **#Exposed: Oscar-Winner Leo Vance Stalking Claire Sterling, Attacks Rival Dylan Croft!** The articles were accompanied by two photos. The first was of me, arriving home the night of the incident. The second was of Claire and Dylan, arriving at the same house shortly after. The comments section was a war zone. 【*WTF is going on? Why are all three of them at the same house?*】 【*OMG I have a friend who works in the industry, and he said Leo has been obsessed with Claire for years! He snuck into her house and pushed Dylan down the stairs!*】 【*Why would Leo Vance sneak into Claire Sterling’s house? This is so weird!*】 【*That’s bullshit! Why would Leo need to sneak into anyone’s house?*】 Then, a new comment shot to the top. **[Leo Vance doesn’t have a secret girlfriend! He made it all up! He’s been in love with Claire for years. When she and Dylan went public, he got jealous and attacked Dylan! I have proof! Look at this screenshot! Leo used to be the president of her fan club!]** When Claire was just starting out, she didn’t have many fans. I used to visit her on set, and I even ran her official fan account under a secret identity, creating content and defending her online. It was a secret only she and I knew. And now, here it was, exposed for the world to see. My hand was shaking as I called her. She didn’t pick up until the fifth try. “It was you, wasn’t it?” The photos, the fan club information… it could only have come from her. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke. “You deserved it, Leo.” “Your comments on the talk show made people think Dylan was a homewrecker. It damaged his reputation. I went public with our relationship to protect him, to fix the mess you made. I thought you would see your mistake. But then you pushed him down the stairs.” I started to laugh, a broken, hollow sound. “So this was all for my own good?” “What is he, if not a homewrecker? An innocent, pure-hearted boy who just happened to charm a famous actress?” “Leo, you are being so childish!” she snapped. “Look, I don’t want this to escalate. Just apologize to Dylan. He’ll publicly forgive you, and we can all move on.” Move on? As if it were that simple. As if she had never been a part of this brutal industry. I was about to say something else, but I heard a voice in the background. “Claire, Dylan is awake. He’s asking for you.” “I’ll be right there,” she said quickly. When I looked at my phone, she had already hung up. 9 As Claire rushed to Dylan’s room, she paused and turned to her assistant. “Did you buy that necklace I asked you about? The one Leo mentioned he liked.” The assistant nodded. “Have it sent to him,” she said. She knew Leo was proud. Forcing him to apologize to Dylan would be a blow to his ego. But he had made a mistake, and he had to face the consequences. Besides, Leo was easy to placate. A little gift always did the trick. “Oh,” she added, “and wasn’t there a matching bracelet? Give that to Dylan.” 10 The necklace arrived while Ken and I were watching Dylan’s live hospital-bed interview. In the video, Claire was gently tucking him in. “Dylan,” a reporter asked, “have you seen the news? Is it true that Leo Vance attacked you?” Dylan put on a brave face. “It’s not Leo’s fault. Claire is an amazing woman. It’s only natural that a lot of men are in love with her…” “So it is true?” the reporter pressed, outraged. “That’s disgusting! He’s no better than a stalker! How can he call himself an Oscar winner?” Dylan just smiled weakly and closed his eyes, looking exhausted. The reporter noticed the watch on his wrist. “Is that the vintage Cartier that was just up for auction? The one that was part of a set with a matching necklace?” Dylan glanced at Claire, and the reporters all understood. “Claire and Dylan’s love is so strong! No one could ever come between them!” Ken couldn’t take it anymore. He started cursing at the screen. He threw Claire’s assistant, and the necklace, out of my house. The production company I was signed with wasn’t going to take this lying down. I lived in that house. The security guards had seen me come and go every day for years. They released a statement, along with stills from the security footage. **[This house is Mr. Vance’s primary residence. He is seen here on a daily basis. Ms. Sterling, however, is rarely seen on the premises.]** **[Two photos of three people entering the same house is not proof of an attack. We urge the public not to jump to conclusions.]** The tide of public opinion started to turn. But then, Claire posted again. **[It appears Mr. Vance has been using my absence to secretly enter and case my home.]** The post was accompanied by a photo of the deed to the house. 11 I felt the blood rush to my head. Before I had paid off her family’s debt, we had lived in a tiny, cramped apartment. After, to make sure she felt secure, I had bought this house and put it in her name. “Leo,” she had said at the time, smiling, “you don’t have to do that. I trust you. I trust us.” And now, that trust was a knife she was twisting in my back. Ken exploded. “The marriage license! Show them the marriage license, Leo!” “She has it,” I said quietly. All of our important documents were kept by her. The day we got married, she was so happy, she had kissed the license over and over, saying she was going to have them framed and preserved forever. Ken was silent for a long time. “Leo,” he finally asked, “were you two really together for ten years?” A bitter smile touched my lips. My phone buzzed with a text. **[Need some help?]** It was from Maya. **[Thanks, but I’m okay.]** I turned off my phone and handed Ken a USB drive. “Ken,” I said. “Leak this.”

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It was Labor Day weekend, and my childhood friend, Leo, brought his new girlfriend, Ashley, on our annual group trip. We were all out on the beach, the smell of salt and charcoal in the air from the grill. Leo pulled the first batch of perfectly charred chicken wings off the grate, walked past everyone—his girlfriend included—and handed the plate to me. That’s when Ashley’s voice cut through the relaxed vibe. “Doesn’t it get exhausting? Pulling that whole ‘one of the guys’ act?” The sizzle of the grill was suddenly the loudest sound on the beach. The air went still. I was just holding the plate, completely thrown. “I’m sorry, what?” “If you want him, just say it,” she continued, her voice sharp. “At least then I could respect you as a rival. But don’t hide behind this whole ‘best bud’ thing to flirt with my boyfriend.” The atmosphere went from zero to a hundred real quick. I was just standing there with a plate of wings, totally embarrassed and confused by her sudden attack. “I think you’ve got this all wrong,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Leo jumped in, scowling at her. “Ashley, what the hell? Mia and I are just friends. Stop looking for trouble.” “Friends?” She let out a bitter little laugh. “You give her the first plate of wings instead of your own girlfriend, and now you’re yelling at me to defend her. You expect me to believe you two are just ‘buddies’?” Her glare snapped back to me. “And you, Mia. Drop the innocent act. I’ve seen girls like you a thousand times—the ‘cool girl’ who hangs around a bunch of guys, blurring the lines, acting like a bro. Have some self-respect.” I felt a headache starting to pound behind my eyes. Our little group of four—two guys, two girls—had been inseparable since we were kids. Our parents all knew each other, did business together. It was just how it was. But I’d always been careful to keep clear boundaries. The only reason Leo gave me the wings first was as a thank you. He and Ashley had been dating since sophomore year of college, and he was planning to propose this weekend. He’d asked us, his oldest friends, to help plan the whole thing. I was in charge of the venue and setup, while Sarah and Ryan handled fireworks and music. This whole beach resort? It belongs to my family. I shut it down to the public for a week just for his proposal. He could give me a million chicken wings and it wouldn’t cover the favor. But the proposal was a surprise. I couldn’t blow his cover. I forced myself to stay calm. “Look, he was just thanking me for helping him with something recently.” Sarah and Ryan quickly backed me up. “Ashley, seriously, we can vouch for them. There’s nothing going on between Mia and Leo,” Sarah said. Ryan added, bluntly, “Mia’s not into Leo.” But Ashley’s face was like stone. She slapped her phone down on the picnic table. The screen lit up with a screenshot of a text exchange between me and Leo. It was me, asking if his wound was healing okay and if he needed me to come take care of him. “Not into him, huh?” she sneered. “But you’re so concerned you offer to play nurse? Are you that desperate for attention you’ll just volunteer for anything?” I just stared at the screen. Those texts were from eight years ago. *** We were in high school. Puberty had hit our friend group like a truck. Leo, after learning some basic biology, turned into a total jerk. He’d snap girls’ bra straps, try to flip up skirts, and make gross jokes. It was disgusting. One day, I saw him do it and just lost it. I grabbed the nearest plastic chair and slammed it into him, screaming at him to apologize to the girl. I was young and didn’t know my own strength. He ended up with two stitches in his head. My parents read me the riot act, and I realized I’d probably gone too far. So, I sent him a few texts, reluctantly checking in. That was the extent of our “caring” exchange. The good news was, he never bullied another girl again. The bad news was, it revealed his true colors. He cycled through girlfriends at an insane rate, and even bragged about cheating. If it weren’t for our parents’ history, the rest of us would have ditched him years ago. But after he started dating Ashley, he seemed to clean up his act. He deleted all the other girls’ numbers and played the part of the reformed bad boy. I never bought it. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. The day Leo introduced Ashley to us, I pulled her aside and quietly gave her a heads-up. “Hey, just so you know, Leo used to be a huge player. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She looked at me with pure suspicion. “I think I can learn about my own boyfriend from him, thanks. I don’t need his ‘girl buddy’ to fill me in.” It was like she thought I was trying to sabotage them from day one. So, I dropped it. It wasn’t my business. But now, all these years later, she was dragging up ancient history to paint me as the villain. “I have absolutely zero interest in Leo,” I said, enunciating every word. Before Ashley could fire back, Leo had had enough. “If you’re not going to eat, then just go back to the room! Why are you so obsessed with attacking Mia? You’re embarrassing me!” Her head snapped up, her eyes suddenly red and glassy. “Oh, so now you’re getting defensive, are you? Fine! I’m the extra one here! I’m in the way! You and your *best friends* can have a great time!” She spun around and ran off down the beach. Leo muttered a curse under his breath, then turned to me, looking mortified. “Mia, I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into her today. After I propose tonight, I’ll set her straight. I’ll make sure she apologizes.” I just gave him a tight, fake smile. I felt sick to my stomach and furious. If I’d known helping him out would be this much of a nightmare, I would’ve charged him for emotional damages. After that, no one felt like eating. We all just went to get the final proposal prep done. Ryan went to check on the fireworks, and Sarah started setting up candles and balloons. I was supposed to be directing the hotel staff with the field of roses we were planting in the sand. Per Leo’s request, the entire stretch of beach was supposed to be covered in red roses. But a freak heatwave had rolled in, and more than half the flowers were completely wilted and useless. I had no choice but to call Leo to ask if he was okay with using high-quality fakes instead. But it wasn’t him who answered. It was Ashley. Her voice was dripping with venom. “You’ve got incredible timing, you know that? The second Leo starts to calm me down, your name pops up on his phone.” I gritted my teeth, trying to stay professional. “I’m calling him about something important.” “And what could be so important that you can’t tell me?” she scoffed. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you basic girl code? If you need to talk to one person in a couple, you call the one you have a goddamn Y chromosome in common with.” Leo’s angry voice cut her off in the background. “Ashley, that’s enough! Aren’t you embarrassed enough already?” I heard shuffling, and then Leo was on the line. “Mia, I’m on Ashley’s floor. Just come up here and we can talk.” *Click.* He hung up. To avoid any more drama, I grabbed Sarah and brought her with me. We found Leo waiting for us in the hallway outside his room. The second he saw me about to mention the proposal, he frantically waved us into the stairwell, terrified Ashley would overhear. “What’s up?” he whispered. I told him about the rose situation. A deep frown creased his forehead. “Why didn’t you order more backups?” he snapped. “Fake flowers? Seriously? Ashley cares so much about the little details, she’s going to be so disappointed.” I almost laughed in his face. “I ordered *thousands* of roses, Leo. You think I can control the weather?” Sarah didn’t hold back. “We’re busting our asses to help you, and you have the nerve to blame us?” He flinched, his tone softening. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just stressed… Okay, fine. Use the fake ones from the hotel. It’ll be dark, maybe she won’t notice. All the damages are on me. Mia, don’t be mad. I’ll Venmo you the money right now.” Before he could finish, the stairwell door slammed open with a deafening *BANG!* And then, a sharp, stinging *CRACK!* Ashley was standing there, and she had just slapped me clear across the face. “You shameless, pathetic pick-me!” she shrieked. *** Ashley was heaving, her eyes blazing with a wild, triumphant fury. “I knew it! You create some stupid little emergency so my boyfriend has to come running to you! I caught you red-handed!” Her eyes darted down to his phone. “And you’re asking him for money? What’s wrong, isn’t your family’s money good enough for you? Or is his money just *special*?” she spat. “And you brought Sarah along as your lookout! You’re so calculating!” She lunged at me again, but this time Leo grabbed her, holding her back. “Ashley, are you insane?!” Sarah yelled. “You don’t even know what’s going on and you just hit her?” My cheek was on fire. I’d never been slapped in my entire life. All the patience I’d been holding onto evaporated in a rush of pure rage. “You think Leo is some kind of prize to be won?” I yelled back. “The only reason I’m even talking to him is because he’s about to ask you to—” “Mia!” Leo’s voice was a desperate plea. His eyes were begging me not to ruin the surprise. He turned back to Ashley, trying to wrestle her toward the door. “We were just talking about maybe taking a boat out later, that’s all! Why did you follow us? Come on, let’s go. I’m begging you, stop making a scene!” He practically dragged her out of the stairwell. A minute later, Sarah came back with an ice pack for my swelling cheek. My phone buzzed. It was a Venmo notification. Leo had sent me $10,000. The message read: *Mia, I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t ruin the proposal. I won’t let Ashley out of the room again. Don’t reply.* Sarah peeked at the screen and snorted. “Wow. A match made in heaven. He’s an idiot and she’s a psycho.” Just then, Ryan came back from checking the fireworks. When he saw my face and heard what happened, he looked both furious and completely exhausted by the drama. “That’s it,” he said. “Leo crossed a line. He cares more about his image and his crazy girlfriend than a friend he’s known his whole life. After he proposes tonight, we’re done. We’re not inviting him to anything ever again.” Sarah scoffed. “I don’t know why he acts so high and mighty anyway. You know his family’s business has been struggling for years…” The Maxwells had been quietly sinking, and their company was only staying afloat because of their contracts with our three families. This whole proposal weekend was something Leo’s parents had personally asked us to help with, as a favor. Otherwise, none of us would have bothered. I was so full of rage I couldn’t see straight. I was done. I handed the rest of the setup duties over to the hotel staff and called the dock to make sure our boat was ready to leave the island the second this whole charade was over. Later that night, everything went according to plan. Leo led Ashley down to the beach for a walk. He got down on one knee in the middle of the (mostly fake) sea of roses and pulled out a ring box. On cue, Ryan set off the fireworks, which exploded in glittering bursts across the sky, illuminating the tears welling in Ashley’s eyes. After a long, heartfelt speech, Leo held up the ring. “Ashley, will you marry me?” That was our signal. Sarah and I ran over, playing the part of the ecstatic audience. “Say yes! Say yes!” Ashley reached for the ring. And then she threw it. Hard. Right at me. “You sound so happy, don’t you?” she screamed, tears streaming down her face, her laugh turning into a sob. “You must be just sick with jealousy inside! Well, you know what? Fine! I’ll make it easy for you two! No more sneaking around and treating me like an idiot!” I was stunned. “Who’s treating you like an idiot?” “Oh, stop playing dumb,” she sobbed, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “You really think I don’t know? About the baby you and Leo had together?”

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The day our daughter turned five, my wife’s lover, Julian, posted a photo on Instagram. It was of him and my wife, Claire, lying in bed together. The caption read: *“The little one was crying for his mom before bed, and supermom dropped everything to be here.”* The woman in the picture, the “supermom,” was my wife. I glanced at the text she’d sent me just ten minutes earlier: *[Something came up at the office. Don’t wait up for me and Lily.]* I liked the post. Then I called my divorce lawyer. *** Claire didn’t get home until two in the morning. The sudden glare of the hallway light made me instinctively shield our daughter’s eyes. Claire leaned against the doorframe, her voice a low murmur. “Hey, I’m home. Let’s wake Lily up. I can still do the cake with her.” I used to be obsessed with those family rituals. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, every stupid parent-teacher conference at the preschool—I always insisted Claire be there. I didn’t want Lily to grow up like I did, seeing her mother mostly through a phone screen. But now… I straightened the comforter, my voice flat. “Don’t bother.” A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. “Ethan, I was just putting his son, Leo, to sleep. Don’t read into it.” She sighed, a sound heavy with accusation. “This is why I can’t be honest with you. You’re always so suspicious.” I wasn’t misinterpreting anything. And I wouldn’t be suspicious anymore. “If you’re done for the night, you should go to your own room. Don’t wake Lily. She has school tomorrow.” My response was met with a cold little laugh. “Fine. But don’t you dare say I’m an absent mother later.” I turned away and switched off the lamp, gently patting the back of our daughter, who had stirred from the noise. Absent? I didn’t care anymore. After all, Lily’s birthday wish this year, whispered over her single candle, had been: “I don’t want to see Mommy anymore.” The next morning, after breakfast, Claire did something unusual. Instead of heading straight for the door, she sat and watched the morning news. Just as I was getting Lily’s coat on, she stood up, grabbed her car keys, and walked over, ruffling Lily’s hair. “Mommy will take you to school today.” The words were for our daughter, but her eyes were locked on me. Two years ago, when Lily first started preschool, Claire drove her every single day. But after Julian came back into her life, she started leaving earlier and earlier. The excuse was always an early-morning board meeting. I believed her. I believed her right up until three months ago, when I was dropping off a forgotten lunchbox and saw her car parked across the street from the school. I saw Claire, the woman who was supposedly in a meeting, lean into the backseat and lift out a little boy. It wasn’t that she didn’t have time to take her own daughter to school. It was just that someone else was more important. We had a terrible fight that night. The next day, Lily stopped asking for her mom to take her. Even though I’d already made my decision, Claire was still Lily’s mother. I thought for a moment, then nodded. A small, triumphant smile played on her lips as she bent down and scooped Lily into her arms. But when I opened the passenger door of her Mercedes, I froze. The back seat was cluttered with someone else’s life. A Spider-Man water bottle, a wooden toy bow and arrow, a man’s blazer thrown carelessly across the leather. And behind the passenger headrest, hanging from a hook, was a framed “family photo.” Claire, Julian, and his son, Leo, smiling on a beach somewhere. She saw where I was looking. Her expression tightened. “Julian hung that there. He said it makes Leo happy when he’s in the car.” She gave me a warning look. “Don’t start a fight over something so small.” The old me would have. I would have ripped the picture down, thrown it out the window, and screamed at her, demanding to know what Lily and I even meant to her. But the new me just nodded. “It’s a nice picture.” She stared at me, her eyes filled with a strange confusion. “You’re not mad?” Mad? Maybe I should have been. But all I felt was a hollow echo, a strange desire to laugh. Did she really think I couldn’t see through such a clumsy, transparent power play? Or did she just not care? “We should get going,” I said, my voice even. “Lily’s going to be late.” Her lips thinned into a tight line as she walked around to the driver’s side. Just as I was about to buckle Lily in, Claire’s phone rang. The ringtone was a tinny version of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” A little boy’s frantic sobs came through the speaker. “Mommy! Mommy, where did you go? Did you leave me and Daddy?” Claire hung up. Without another glance at us, she got in the car and started the engine. “Leo’s having a meltdown. I have to go. The driver can take you today.” The black sedan sped away, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust. I worried about Lily, so I knelt down to her level. “Hey, Mommy had an emergency. Next time she’s free, we’ll all go together, okay?” Lily looked up at me with an unnerving maturity. “Mommy’s never going to be free, Daddy. All her time is for Leo and his dad.” *** That evening, Claire called. “Ethan, I’m going to be late again. Leo’s running a fever…” “Okay.” My quick agreement seemed to throw her off. Her practiced explanation caught in her throat. Assuming I was being passive-aggressive, her tone hardened with annoyance. “Ethan, don’t be childish.” Then she hung up. Ten minutes later, a series of texts came through. It was Julian. [Hey man, sorry about this. Leo’s been so clingy with his mom lately.] [But seriously, she shouldn’t have just bailed on you and Lily the second I called.] [I’ll talk to her about it. Don’t be mad, okay?] He finished it with a winking emoji. It wasn’t an apology; it was a victory lap. I had no interest in fighting him for her. I deleted the texts and blocked his number. A moment later, Claire called again, her voice sharp. “Ethan, what is your problem? Julian was trying to apologize to you. Why are you being like this?” In the background, I could hear a child’s faint whimpering and a man’s placating sighs. I didn’t say anything. After a long, tense silence, her voice, now cold and clear, came through the phone. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, Ethan. I’m so disappointed in you.” It was always the same. Julian would provoke me, and somehow, by the end of it, Claire would make it all my fault, as if I were the villain in her story. I went home and started packing. While Claire was on the phone lecturing me, I was on my laptop, messaging my lawyer. After the divorce, I was entitled to at least 30% of her company’s stock, which I’d been granted during our marriage. And while courts often favor the mother, Lily didn’t want to live with Claire anymore. A judge would listen to that. My last hesitation was gone. Clothes, watches, Lily’s favorite stuffed animals. All of it went into boxes. As I sealed the last one, my hands brushed against an old, dusty wooden chest under our bed. My fingers trembled slightly as I broke the wax seal. It was full of letters. From Claire, ages seventeen to twenty-two. I picked up the one on top. It began: *To my Ethan, age twenty-seven. This is your Claire, age seventeen.* *This is the first letter in our ten-year box. As we planned, we’ll open this together on the anniversary of our first date.* *By now, I know we’re married. Maybe we even have a beautiful little kid.* My phone rang. It was the Claire of today, her voice frantic and accusing. “Ethan! Julian took Leo and left! Did you know about this? If anything happens to them, I will never forgive you!” My eyes fell to the last line of the letter in my hands. *Love forever, your Claire.* A sharp pain, like a piece of glass in my chest, made me flinch. Something inside me quietly shattered. I hung up the phone and threw the entire chest into the fireplace. *** Claire didn’t come home that night. I didn’t call her a hundred times, begging her to come back, promising I’d stop making things difficult for Julian. And Lily didn’t ask about her mother once. She just quietly took the framed photo of her and Claire from her nightstand and packed it in her own small suitcase. We were in a silent standoff. It lasted a week, until Lily’s preschool sent home a field trip permission slip that required a parent’s digital signature, verified through a corporate security login I didn’t have. I tried calling Claire, only to find she’d blocked my number. Left with no choice, I took the tablet and drove to her office. I hadn’t been waiting long in the lobby when I saw a familiar figure bypass the front desk and head straight for Claire’s office. The executive assistant glanced at me apologetically. “Mr. Thorne… Ms. Rhodes gave instructions that Julian is allowed in her office at any time.” That little privilege was, ironically, my fault. Back when I still tried, I used to bring Claire lunch every day. We’d sit and talk for an hour. One time, Julian showed up, but the assistant at the time, following protocol, made him wait. By the time Claire and I finished, Julian and his son were shivering in the lobby. That was the first time Claire ever truly lost her temper with me. She screamed at me, saying my daily visits were a waste of her valuable time. The assistant who had stopped Julian was fired. From that day on, everyone in the company knew who Claire’s priority was. I never came back. I gave the assistant a tight smile and walked toward the office. The door was ajar. Claire was in a meeting, but she saw me. “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised. Julian was perched on the armrest of her high-backed leather chair, their bodies so close they were almost touching. She followed my gaze and then looked away, a defensive edge to her voice. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Ethan. Julian just happens to know a few things about this project, so…” I just nodded and held out the tablet. “Lily’s field trip. It needs your signature.” “You came all the way here just for that?” “Why else would I come?” The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. I knew Claire well enough to know she was in a foul mood, though I couldn’t tell why. Julian let out a soft chuckle. “He’s just using it as an excuse to see you, Claire. It’s his way of making up.” He looked at her pointedly. “You’ve been staying at my place all week. You should probably go home and see Lily.” The tension in Claire’s shoulders eased. She tossed the tablet onto the coffee table and gave me a smirk. “So now you’re using our daughter as a pawn, Ethan? How pathetic.” She leaned back. “Apologize to Julian. Otherwise, I’m not signing it.” A year ago, those words would have enraged me. Now, I felt nothing. No anger toward her, or toward him. All I could think was that if I didn’t get this signed, Lily would miss the trip to the zoo, and she would be devastated. I looked at Claire, then at Julian, still lounging possessively on her chair. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the office. I’d just have to tell the school that Lily didn’t have a mother. I hadn’t made it ten feet when a smooth, calm voice stopped me. “Mr. Thorne? If you don’t mind, perhaps I can help.” It was one of the women from the meeting. She was dressed in a sharp, black sheath dress, her expression cool and observant. “After all,” she added with a wry twist of her lips, “I feel like I’ve been an unwilling audience to your family drama for some time now.” I just handed her the tablet. The authorization went through instantly. On the signature line, in elegant cursive, was a name: *Sloane Covington.* *** The divorce papers were drafted. I texted Claire, telling her she needed to come home that night. When I went to pick Lily up from her preschool, Claire’s Mercedes was already parked out front. The passenger window was down, revealing Julian’s smug face. “Well, well, Ethan. Picking up the kid?” He looked my simple wool coat up and down. “This is a pretty exclusive school, you know. Still wearing last year’s coat? Aren’t you afraid of embarrassing your daughter?” I ignored him and moved a few feet away. Julian’s face fell, and he turned to Claire in the driver’s seat. “Claire, did I say something wrong? I think I made him angry.” For once, Claire didn’t respond. She was staring at my coat, her expression unreadable. Her voice was stiff. “Ethan, it’s cold out. Just get in the car.” I moved further away. I don’t know when it happened, but the distance between us had become a canyon. Even a simple offer of warmth sounded forced, like an obligation. Just then, a commotion broke out in the line of kids waiting. Two of them were shoving each other. One of them was Lily. I ran over and pulled them apart. The other child, I now realized, was Julian’s son, Leo. The moment he saw me, he froze, then promptly sat on the ground and began to wail. “Waaah! That man pushed me! It hurts!” Claire and Julian rushed over. Julian scooped his son up, glaring at me. “Ethan, I know you don’t like me, but you don’t take it out on a child. They were just playing. You didn’t have to get violent.” Claire was looking at me with disapproval, too, as if she’d completely forgotten which child was hers. The teacher looked mortified. “Mr. Thorne, Mr. Vance… the children were arguing. They both saw Ms. Rhodes and started shouting that she was their mother. It… escalated.” The entire pickup line of Upper East Side parents was now watching us. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “What a mess. Two kids fighting over one mom? Must be the wife and the mistress.” “That woman looks rich. Maybe the little girl is just lying to look important.” “Taught to be a gold digger at that age? What kind of parents does she have?” Leo was still crying, his arms wrapped tightly around Claire’s neck, chanting “Mommy, Mommy.” And Lily… she just stood there, her small hand gripping mine, her eyes fixed on Claire, not blinking. Another child piped up, “Ma’am, who’s your real kid? You have to tell us! The one who’s lying has to say sorry!” Claire opened her mouth. “I’m Li—” At that exact moment, Julian gently took her hand. His eyes were wide with a silent, desperate plea. I knew in that instant. She was wavering. Just like all the other times, the second Julian needed her, my daughter and I became her second choice. I gritted my teeth, my voice a low warning. “Claire. Your answer right now will affect Lily for the rest of her life. Think very carefully before you speak.” Her body went rigid. Her eyes were downcast, her expression veiled. Then, in a voice quiet but clear enough for everyone to hear, she said, “I’m Leo’s mother.” She looked at Lily. “I think you’re mistaken, little girl.” My heart seized, a physical blow that almost buckled my knees. This was our daughter. Our Lily. The judgment from the other parents was immediate and harsh. “That little girl needs to apologize for lying. And for hitting her son!” “No class at all. The truth comes out and she just stands there.” “Probably jealous. Wants to be a rich kid.” “Look at her dad. Dressed like a kept man. Probably coached her to do it, hoping to get a payout from the rich lady.” “Claire, how could you—” I started, but a sharp pain in my palm cut me off. Lily was squeezing my hand with shocking strength, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes, which had been so full of desperate hope, were turning a dull, lifeless grey. “It’s okay, Daddy,” she whispered. Then she turned, her posture unnaturally straight, and bowed stiffly to the woman who gave birth to her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I made a mistake.”

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I knew I was a character in a book, but by the time I was born, the story was already over. The brilliant second female lead had retired to a quiet life in the country, while the hero and heroine were set to take over the world. I was the throwaway character, the one with a terminal illness, fated to die young. And yet, somehow, I was the one who married her. For three years, I knew she still loved the hero. I knew I was living on borrowed time. But in those three years, her care was absolute. She promised me I’d live to be a hundred. And I started to believe her. I started to believe she might have finally fallen in love with me. Then, the hero was poisoned. She rushed to the city to save him, forgetting that today was the day my own illness would flare, the day I needed her most. *** The pain hit like a tidal wave. I bit down hard on the corner of the duvet, my hair plastered to my forehead with cold sweat. The woman who was always by my side during these episodes was gone. My caretaker, Sam, was wiping my face with a damp cloth, his eyes red with frustration. “She’s never forgotten this date, not once in three years. Where could she be?” I hadn’t felt a pain this raw, this untamed, in so long. The young staffer I’d sent to find her returned, trembling, and handed a single sheet of paper to Sam. Sam snatched it and read aloud, his voice tight with disbelief. “*Alexander Vance has been poisoned. The President’s own detail requested my help. My husband, please take care of yourself…*” The ink was still slightly damp. She’d written it in a hurry. Sam’s jaw clenched. “When did she leave?” “This morning, sir,” the boy whispered. He didn’t dare lie. Everyone on the estate knew what today was. “Leave us,” I managed to rasp. Sam closed the door, and another spasm wracked my body, forcing a tear from the corner of my eye. Alexander Vance. The hero of the story. The moment I heard his name, I knew I had lost. “Sir, I’m calling Dr. Chen,” Sam said, turning to leave. He stopped, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Aris Thorne *was* the genius doctor. My condition was something only she could manage. In this sprawling medical sanctuary she called a home, there was no second-in-command. I knew her history. I knew she was the second female lead who had loved the hero with a fierce, unrequited passion. But I never thought she would do this to me. My chest was a knot of fire. Every breath was an agony. I’ve known I was in a book since before I was born. For years, I just thought I was a normal person in a normal world, albeit one with a rare and fatal genetic condition. It wasn’t until I met Aris that the pieces clicked into place. My father, desperate after exhausting every conventional medical option, heard rumors of a reclusive medical prodigy named Aris Thorne. He found her, and she laid out her terms. She would treat me, but I had to marry her. I wanted to refuse, but seeing the raw hope in my father’s eyes, I agreed. For the first year, I kept my guard up. I remembered the book’s plot. *She loves the hero.* I told myself not to fall for her, no matter how brilliant or kind she was. But a heart isn’t made of stone. For three years, she was my world. Every night, she performed meticulous treatments with fine needles and rare herbs, drawing the sickness from my body. On the days of my attacks, she never left my side. Every doctor had told me I wouldn’t see my sixteenth birthday. Aris was the only one who looked me in the eye and said, “With me here, you’ll live to be a hundred.” I’m eighteen now. I survived. The book’s story was over. The hero and heroine were building their empire. The second female lead was supposed to be living in quiet solitude. I thought her being with me meant she had broken free of the narrative. I thought she had chosen me. Her affection was a warm, constant sun, and I couldn’t hide from it forever. The locks around my heart rusted and broke. But the moment I finally let myself believe, fate played its cruelest joke. This was supposed to be my last major attack. Aris had said that after today’s treatment, the final traces of the illness would be gone for good. Without it, the disease would come roaring back, stronger than ever. She knew the stakes. Just last night, she had whispered against my ear, her breath warm, “Eli, after you’re well… can we finally be truly married?” My face had burned, and I’d answered her with a kiss. And today, for the man she truly loved, she had left me to suffer, without a second thought. The presidential palace has a whole team of doctors. Why did they need her? *** My vision swam. When it cleared, a hand was on my wrist, taking my pulse. A spark of warmth ignited in my chest. I turned my head. The hope died just as quickly. The name *Aris* dissolved on my tongue. “Sir, I got Dr. Chen from the city. You’re going to be okay,” Sam soothed. But I knew it was useless. Sure enough, Dr. Chen withdrew his hand, his expression grim. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.” “But you’re the best there is!” Sam’s voice cracked with a desperate anger. “You can’t even ease the pain?” I squeezed his arm, giving the old doctor an apologetic look. Thankfully, he understood. “I’ll find someone else,” Sam insisted, but I shook my head. “Don’t. It’s just a few hours. I can bear it.” No one else could treat me. That’s why my death at sixteen had been a foregone conclusion. Aris had pulled me back from the brink. And now, she had pushed me right back over the edge. If she was always going to choose him, why did she ever bother saving me? Days passed. My body regressed. I was back to the fragile creature I’d once been, coughing at the slightest exertion, growing dizzy after just a few steps. I was resting in a lounge chair on the veranda, my face pale, a dull ache radiating from my chest. The sun was warm, but I couldn’t feel it. Then, one of the staff announced that Aris was back. My heart leaped. I lifted my head, my eyes searching. I saw her walking up the main path. She was supporting a man in an impeccably tailored navy suit. She didn’t even glance in my direction. “Sir, how could she…” Sam started, his voice thick with outrage. I grabbed his sleeve, stopping him from charging after them. A metallic taste filled my mouth. I forced myself up and had Sam help me back inside before I collapsed. He might not have recognized the man, but I did. In the novel, Alexander Vance was famous for one thing besides his ruthless ambition: he only ever wore navy blue suits. It was his armor, his uniform. Back in my rooms, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I coughed, a spray of red dotting the white handkerchief in my hand. Sam’s eyes widened in panic. “I’m getting her!” “Sam, no,” I said, gripping his arm with what little strength I had. “Don’t go. And she’s not your mistress anymore.” Her actions made it painfully clear. Why would I subject myself to more humiliation? “But she cared for you, sir. I saw it. She truly cared.” He was right. She did. But that care was conditional. It only existed in a world where Alexander Vance was healthy and out of reach. Now, compared to him, I was nothing. I still remembered the slow burn of our courtship. The first time we truly met was on our wedding night. After I’d lifted the veil, I told her plainly that our marriage would be in name only. She would be my doctor, and I would be her patient. She had just smiled, her fingers gently finding the pulse on my wrist. “We’re husband and wife now,” she’d said, her voice like silk. “How could it be in name only?” When I told her I wouldn’t live past sixteen, her smile had only widened. After that, she rarely spoke of it, but my symptoms began to fade one by one. I tried to pay her with gold, with jewels, anything to repay the debt. She returned it all, and instead brought me gifts—a hand-carved jade pendant, a sachet of calming herbs, pastries from the city, strange and fascinating little gadgets. She was trying to win my heart. And when I realized it was working, I panicked. I pulled away. I avoided her. Then came the storm. She stood in the pouring rain, calling my name, “Eli! Eli!” clutching a box of my favorite cakes, shielding it from the downpour with her own body. My resolve shattered. The story was over, I told myself. She was here. With me. I opened the door. She’d thrown her arms around me, her eyes red, and solemnly promised me a lifetime. The love in her gaze had been a tidal wave, and I’d thought, in that moment, that we could truly have it all. I was wrong. *** “Sir… should we go home?” Sam asked softly, his anger replaced by a quiet sadness. “I miss my father,” I whispered, wiping the blood from my lips. I asked him to bring me a pen and paper. I wouldn’t fight for her. I wouldn’t beg. A throwaway character versus the hero of the story? It was no contest. When we arrived at Aris’s private wing of the estate, two men in dark suits stood guard at her door. The small, stylized ‘V’ embroidered on their collars told me everything I needed to know. They were Alexander Vance’s men. Before I could even speak, a sharp, metallic object pressed against my throat. A thin line of blood beaded on my skin. “Sir!” Sam lunged forward, but I held him back. “Aris Thorne is my wife,” I stated, my voice steady. The pressure on my neck eased, but the guards didn’t move. “Dr. Thorne has given orders not to be disturbed,” one of them said, his voice flat and cold. “By anyone.” I stood frozen, a bitter taste filling my mouth. Her rooms… I’d always had free access. She’d treated royalty, billionaires, politicians—all with their own security details. But she had always given one standing order: “My husband is never to be stopped.” Anytime, anywhere, she’d said. If I wanted her, I could come to her. But now, she’d said *anyone*. And that included me. Three years. The intimacy we’d built, the quiet depth of our connection… it all felt like a lie. The whiplash of it was a physical blow, my heart clenching painfully in my chest. I met the guard’s indifferent gaze, blinked back the threatening tears, and took a step back. “My apologies for the disturbance.” Sam knew me well enough to understand. Though his hands were clenched into fists, he stood by my side, waiting. The sun beat down, and the world began to tilt. I felt myself sway, but I couldn’t leave. Not yet. I was afraid if I left now, I’d lose my nerve. I don’t know how long we waited. The sun was setting when she finally appeared. She walked toward me, backlit by the golden light, her beautiful face etched with fatigue. Her normally bright eyes were clouded with weariness. The only time I’d ever seen her look this drained was after pulling an all-nighter to care for me during an attack. I had thought that vulnerability was reserved for me. The irony was a bitter pill. All her whispers of devotion, all her promises… they were all conditional. “Eli? Why are you waiting out here? Have you had dinner?” She seemed surprised to see me and moved to take my hand, just as she always did. I sidestepped her touch. A fresh trickle of blood escaped my lips. The cut on my neck had scabbed over, but now it burned. “Who hurt you?” Her eyes widened, seeing the blood, seeing the sickly pallor that had returned to my face. For a moment, she looked lost. “You’re… bleeding…” I didn’t answer. I just held out the folded paper. She took it, her brow furrowing. As she read it, the color drained from her face. “Eli… you want a divorce?” Her voice was a shocked whisper. Those calm, confident eyes were suddenly dark with something I couldn’t decipher. “Yes,” I said, calmly wiping my mouth. I kept a firm grip on Sam, who looked ready to explode. A clean break. That was my way. Wallowing in self-pity over a woman was a fool’s game. There were other trees in the forest. I refused to hang myself from this one. “Why? You promised…” She trailed off, the realization dawning on her. The night I had promised her everything was the night before she left. The day she left was the day of my attack. “I’m sorry, Eli,” she said, her gaze intense, full of a love that felt like a lie. “Alexander’s life was on the line. I had no choice.” I looked away. “Just sign it. Let’s go our separate ways.” She was the second female lead. Of course she was capable of deep, profound love. I just had to accept that love was never meant for me. *** “Sign it,” I repeated. My legs were starting to shake. I didn’t want to hear her excuses. “Eli, don’t be childish,” she sighed, her expression shifting to one of gentle reprimand. “Your body can’t handle this kind of stress. This was my fault, I admit it. But I promise, I will find a way to make you well again.” She was apologizing, but her words were hollow. I didn’t want them. “Aris Thorne,” I said again, my voice so cold it surprised even me. She stared, a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Eli, let me check your pulse. Let me help you, please?” She reached for me again. I took another step back, the world starting to go grey at the edges. Her expression changed to alarm. She moved to catch me, but a voice from inside her rooms, weak but laced with steel, cut through the air. “Aris… the pain is back.” In an instant, she spun around and rushed back inside, leaving me behind without a second thought. “Where does it hurt? Let me change the dressing.” I heard her gentle, worried voice as she fussed over him. I looked up and my eyes met his. Alexander Vance. His expression was placid, but his eyes were sharp as knives. The hero of a political thriller, indeed. His gaze flickered over me, filled with a faint, dismissive hostility. The look said it all: *When it comes to her, you will always lose to me.* Sam didn’t shout. He didn’t make a scene. He just picked up the divorce papers I had dropped, quickly scrawled *Aris Thorne* on the signature line, and took my arm. “Sir,” he said, his voice a low growl. “We’re going home.” He led me away, his pace measured to match my own faltering steps. A small, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I suddenly felt lighter. I should have known. The second female lead always loves the hero. The story might have ended, but the characters hadn’t changed. Loving a woman tied to the hero’s narrative was a fool’s errand. If I didn’t get out now, I’d be destroyed. “Do you need to pack anything, sir?” Sam asked as we reached the main gate of the estate. I pulled him through it, out into the real world. There was nothing in that place worth keeping. It was dark by the time we arrived at my family’s home. My father, having been alerted of our arrival, rushed out to meet us, his eyes red-rimmed. “Why are you back?” he asked, his voice thick with worry. Then he saw my face, the deathly pallor, and his words died in his throat. He hadn’t seen me this sick in years. “Let’s get you inside,” he choked out, turning away to hide his tears. My own heart ached for him. My father had been my rock, raising a fragile, dying son on his own. He had moved heaven and earth to keep me alive. He’d wanted this marriage for me, wanted me to have a chance at a normal, healthy life. And now I was back, broken. He didn’t need to ask what had happened. “Father, you should get some rest,” I said, as he led me to my old wing. I saw that my rooms had been kept pristine, cleaned daily, as if they were waiting for my return. Looking at the pain in his eyes, my own self-pity began to fade. Aris’s heart was not mine to control, but my father’s love was absolute, unconditional, and entirely mine. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Rest now, son. Your father is here.” At his words, all the grief and betrayal I had been holding back threatened to overwhelm me. I just nodded, fighting back tears, and went inside. I was a man now. I couldn’t let him worry anymore than he already was. Only when the door was closed did I let the tears fall, a silent, burning stream. My chest heaved, a cough rattling my ribs. Somehow, I slept. But when I opened my eyes the next morning, Sam was standing by my bed, his face grim. “Sir,” he said. “Dr. Thorne is here.”

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The day our daughter Mia turned five, my husband’s mistress, Amber, posted a photo on Instagram. It was a selfie of the two of them, tucked into bed, a little boy asleep between them. Her caption read: **【Little guy was fussy and wanted his daddy before bed, and this super-dad dropped everything to rush over. ❤️】** The man in the picture, the “super-dad,” was my husband, Julian. I glanced at the text he’d sent me just ten minutes earlier: **【Something came up at the office. Don’t wait up for me and Mia.】** I liked her post. Then I called my divorce lawyer. *** 1 Julian didn’t get home until two in the morning. The harsh glare of the headlights cut through the bedroom window, and I instinctively shielded Mia’s eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, his voice a low rumble. “Hey, I’m home. Wake Mia up, I’ll celebrate her birthday with her now.” I used to be obsessed with these family rituals. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, even kindergarten events—I’d always insist Julian be there. I didn’t want Mia to grow up like I did, seeing her father mostly through a phone screen. But now… I straightened the comforter, my voice flat. “Don’t bother.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Julian’s face. “Chloe, I was just putting Leo to sleep. Don’t get the wrong idea.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is why I can’t be honest with you. You’re always so suspicious.” I wasn’t getting the wrong idea. And I wouldn’t be suspicious anymore. “If that’s all, you should go to your own room. Don’t wake Mia. She has school tomorrow.” He let out a cold laugh. “Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me later, saying I’m missing out on Mia’s childhood.” I turned and switched off the lamp, gently patting the back of my daughter, who had started to stir. Missing out? I didn’t care anymore. After all, Mia’s birthday wish this year was: “I don’t want to see Daddy anymore.” The next morning, after breakfast, Julian didn’t leave for work right away like he usually did. He sat on the couch, watching the morning news. Just as I was getting Mia’s backpack ready, he stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked over, ruffling her hair. “Daddy’s taking you to school today.” He said it to Mia, but his eyes were locked on me. Two years ago, when Mia first started kindergarten, Julian drove her every single day. But after Amber showed up, he started leaving earlier and earlier, claiming his morning meetings at the office had been moved up. I’d believed him. Until three months ago, when Mia switched schools. I was waiting at the gate and saw him. The man who was supposed to be in a board meeting was leaning over, unbuckling a little boy from the back seat of his car. It wasn’t that he didn’t have time to take his daughter to school. He just had someone more important to take. We had a massive fight that night. The next day, Mia stopped asking for him to take her. Even though I’d already decided on the divorce, he was still her father. I thought for a moment and didn’t say no. A small, triumphant smile touched the corner of his lips as he scooped Mia into his arms. But when he opened the car door, I froze. The back seat was cluttered with stuff. A Spider-Man water bottle, a wooden toy bow-and-arrow set, a woman’s cashmere scarf draped over the headrest… And tucked into the back of the passenger seat was a small, framed “family photo.” Julian saw where I was looking. His expression tightened. “Amber just stuck that there. She said it makes Leo happy,” he said defensively. “Don’t start a fight over something so small.” The old me would have shattered the frame, would have screamed and cried, demanding to know what Mia and I meant to him. But now, I just nodded. “It’s a nice picture.” He stared at me, a strange look in his eyes. “You’re not mad?” Mad? Maybe I should have been. But I felt nothing. A complete, hollow calm. In fact, it was almost funny. Did Julian, always so sharp and perceptive in business, really not see through such a clumsy, transparent power play? Or maybe he just didn’t care. “We should get going,” I said softly. “Mia’s going to be late.” His lips thinned into a hard line as he got into the driver’s seat. Just as I was about to buckle Mia in, his phone rang. The ringtone was a child’s voice, custom-recorded. *“Daddy, Daddy, it’s a call for you! It’s for my best Daddy!”* A little boy’s frantic sobs came through the speaker. “Daddy! Daddy, where did you go? Are you leaving me and Mommy?” Julian ended the call without even a glance in our direction and started the car. “Leo’s having a meltdown. I’ll have the driver take you guys today.” The black Maybach sped away, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust. I worried about Mia and knelt down to face her. “Honey, Daddy had an emergency. Next time he’s free, we’ll all go to school together, okay?” Mia looked at me, her small face etched with an unnerving maturity. “Daddy’s never going to be free, Mom. His time belongs to Leo and his mom now.” *** 2 That evening, Julian called. “Chloe, I’m going to be late. Leo’s running a fever…” “Okay.” My quick agreement seemed to catch him off guard, his excuses dying in his throat. He must have thought I was giving him the silent treatment, because his tone sharpened with irritation. “Chloe, don’t be like this.” Then he hung up. Ten minutes later, a series of texts came through. 【OMG Chloe, I’m so sorry. Leo has been so clingy with his dad lately.】 【But seriously, Julian shouldn’t have just ditched you and Mia the second I called. That was not cool of him.】 【I’ll be sure to give him a talking-to. Don’t be mad, okay? 😉】 It was Amber. Less of an apology, more of a declaration of victory. I had no energy to fight her over a man I no longer wanted. I deleted the texts and blocked her number. A moment later, Julian called again, his voice tight with anger. “What the hell is your problem, Chloe? Amber reaches out to apologize and you give her that attitude?” I could faintly hear a woman and child crying in the background. I said nothing. After a long, tense silence, his voice dropped, heavy with disappointment. “Chloe… how did you become this person?” he said. “I’m so disappointed in you.” It was always the same. Amber would provoke me, and the moment she shed a tear, Julian would paint me as the villain. When I got home, I started packing. While Julian was on the phone lecturing me, I’d been on the phone with my lawyer. I was entitled to at least 30% of his company’s shares. And in custody cases where both parents have similar means, the court typically favors the mother. My last hesitation vanished. Clothes, handbags, jewelry, Mia’s favorite toys—all of it needed to go. As I taped up the last box, my hands trembled. I found myself staring at an old, dust-covered wooden chest, its wax seal cracked with age. Inside was a lifetime of letters—from the Julian who was 17, all the way to 22. I broke the seal and picked up the one on top. It began: 【To my Chloe, age 27. This is me, Julian, age 17.】 【This is the first love letter I’ve ever written you. As we planned, we’ll open this together in ten years.】 【I bet we’re married by now. Maybe we even have a beautiful kid.】 My phone buzzed. It was the 27-year-old Julian. “Chloe! Did you know Amber took Leo and left? They’re gone!” he roared into the phone. “If anything happens to them, I swear to God, you’ll pay for it.” My eyes drifted to the bottom of the letter I was holding. 【Signed, Julian. Who will love his Chloe forever.】 A sharp pain, like a shard of glass, pierced my chest. Something inside me quietly shattered. I hung up the phone and tossed the entire box of letters into the fireplace. *** 3 Julian didn’t come home that night. I didn’t blow up his phone with frantic calls like I used to, crying and promising I wouldn’t give Amber a hard time anymore. Mia never asked where her daddy was. The only thing she did was quietly take a framed photo of her and Julian from the living room and hide it in her suitcase while I was packing. We were in a cold war. It lasted a week, until Mia’s kindergarten needed a permission slip signed for a field trip, which required a parent’s digital signature on the school portal. I tried calling Julian, only to find he’d blocked my number. Left with no choice, I drove to his office. I wasn’t waiting long before a familiar figure breezed past the reception desk and straight into Julian’s office. The assistant pouring me a glass of water looked embarrassed. “Mrs. Vance… Mr. Vance gave instructions that Amber can go into his office anytime.” That “privilege” was, ironically, my fault. Back when I used to bring Julian lunch every day, we’d eat and talk for an hour. One time, Amber came by to see him and the assistant at the time stopped her. When Julian walked me out, he found Amber and her son shivering in the lobby, their lips blue from the cold. It was the first time Julian ever truly lost his temper with me. He yelled that my daily lunch deliveries were a waste of his time. The assistant who had stopped Amber was fired on the spot. From that day on, everyone in the company knew. Amber was the one who held his heart. I never came back to the office again. I gave the new assistant a small, polite smile and walked toward the office. Julian was in a meeting. He looked surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?” Amber was perched on the armrest of his leather chair, their bodies so close they were almost touching. He followed my gaze and cleared his throat. “Chloe, don’t misunderstand. Amber just happens to know a few things about this project, so…” I nodded, not caring, and held out my tablet. “Mia’s permission slip for her field trip needs your signature.” “You came all the way down here just for that?” “What else?” I replied. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. I didn’t know why, but based on years of experience, I knew he was in a foul mood. Amber scoffed. “What kind of signature is so important? Julian, she’s just looking for an excuse to make up with you. You’ve been staying at my place for days. You should probably go home and see Mia.” The tension in Julian’s shoulders eased. He tossed the tablet onto the coffee table, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips. “So now you’re using our daughter as an excuse, Chloe? Apologize to Amber. Otherwise, I’m not signing anything.” Before, those words would have enraged me. I would have been furious that he cared so little for his own daughter, and even more furious that he was using her to placate his mistress. But now, I wasn’t angry at anyone. I just thought about how disappointed Mia would be if she couldn’t go on the trip. I looked at Julian, then at Amber, still sitting possessively on the arm of his chair. Without another word, I turned and walked out. I’d just tell the school Mia didn’t have a father. I’d only taken a few steps when a crisp, clear male voice stopped me. “Ms. Tang, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to sign for you.” It was one of the men from the meeting in Julian’s office. He stepped out into the hallway. “After all,” he added with a hint of irony, “I feel like I’ve been watching your family drama for a while now.” I finally got a good look at him. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that screamed power, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a commanding presence. He looked like he owned half the city. I handed him the tablet without hesitation. The authorization went through instantly. On the screen, a bold, elegant signature appeared: **Ethan Cole.** *** 4 The divorce papers were drafted. I unilaterally ended our cold war and told Julian he needed to come home that night to sign them. When I went to pick Mia up from school, his Maybach was already idling in the pickup lane. The window rolled down, revealing Amber in the passenger seat, a smug smile on her face. “Well, hello, Chloe. Picking up your daughter?” she said, her eyes raking over my outfit. “This is a pretty exclusive academy, you know. Is that a coat from last season? Aren’t you worried the other kids will make fun of her?” I ignored her and moved a little further down the sidewalk. Amber turned to Julian, her face a mask of faux concern. “Julian, did I say something wrong again? I think Chloe’s mad at me.” But for once, Julian didn’t answer her. He was staring at my thin coat, his voice stiff. “Chloe, it’s windy out. Get in the car.” I moved even further away. I don’t know when it happened, but we had become strangers. So much so that even a simple expression of concern sounded forced and hollow. As the kids started filing out, a scuffle broke out in the line. I squinted and my heart dropped. One of them was Mia. I ran over and pulled them apart. The other child was Leo. The moment he saw me, he froze for a second, then threw himself on the ground and started wailing. “Waaah! The mean lady hit me! It hurts, it hurts!” Julian and Amber rushed over. Amber scooped her son into her arms, glaring at me. “Chloe, I know you don’t like me, but you can’t take it out on a child! They were just playing. Did you have to get so aggressive?” Julian stared at me with disapproval, completely forgetting that Mia was his actual daughter. The teacher on duty hurried over, looking flustered. “Mrs. Vance, Amber… the children saw Mr. Vance’s car, and they both started insisting he was their daddy. It… escalated.” The pickup line was now crowded with other parents, all of them watching. “What’s going on? Two kids fighting over a dad? Is that the wife and the other woman?” “That guy looks loaded. Maybe the other kid’s just a gold digger, making it up, and got caught by the real daughter.” “Wow, teaching your kid to lie about their dad at that age? What kind of parents are they?” Leo was still screaming, his arms wrapped tightly around Julian’s neck, crying, “Daddy, Daddy!” And Mia… Mia just stood there, clutching my hand, her eyes fixed on Julian, not blinking. The other kids started chiming in. “Mister, who’s your real kid? You gotta tell us! The one who’s lying has to say sorry!” Julian opened his mouth. “I’m Mia’s—” Just then, Amber gave his sleeve a tiny, desperate tug. Her eyes were pleading. In that single instant, I knew. He was wavering. Just like all the other times, the countless times before. All it took was one look from Amber, and Mia and I became his second choice. I gritted my teeth, my voice like ice. “Julian, think very carefully about your answer. What you say right now will affect Mia for the rest of her life.” His body went rigid. His gaze dropped, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice that was quiet but clear enough for everyone to hear, he said: “I’m Leo’s father.” He looked down at my daughter, at our Mia. “I think you’re mistaken, little girl.” My heart seized. It felt like a sledgehammer had slammed into my chest, the pain so sharp it stole my breath. *That’s our daughter.* The crowd of parents started murmuring, their judgment now aimed squarely at Mia. “So the little girl was lying. And she hit their son, too.” “What a brat. She got caught and won’t even apologize.” “She’s just jealous. Wants a rich dad for herself.” “Look at her mom. She doesn’t look like the classy type, either. Probably put her up to it, hoping to snag a rich guy.” “Julian, you soulless…” Before I could finish, I felt a sharp pain in my palm. Mia was squeezing my hand, her grip astonishingly strong for a five-year-old. She bit her lower lip, and the light in her eyes just… went out. “Mommy,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Let it go.” Then, she turned, her movements wooden, and bowed stiffly to the man who was her father. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her voice small and empty. “I made a mistake. I thought you were someone else.”

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At my wedding reception, my best man, Ethan, got up to sing a song for us. He chose Adele’s “Someone Like You,” and by the second verse, he was crying. I thought he was just emotional about me getting married, so I clapped him on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. That’s when the text appeared, floating in the air in front of my eyes, like a live stream chat overlaying my vision. **【Can this loser side character get out of the way? He’s blocking the shot of the main couple singing to each other.】** **【LMAO, he thinks the ML is crying for him. Bro, he’s crying because he didn’t get to marry the love of his life.】** **【It’s okay, guys! Just 10 more episodes! Once the FL finds out why the ML broke up with her back then, she’ll dump this placeholder husband and start grovelling to win him back!】** **【Tbh does this guy really not know about the FL and ML? He’s so manipulative. Later in the story, he almost gets the ML killed to stop the divorce. Thank god the FL loves the ML so much she bankrupts the side character’s family. He jumps off a building and dies. So satisfying!】** A chill went down my spine. I refused to believe what I was seeing. But then I turned my head. And I saw my new wife, Chloe, silently singing along with him, tears streaming down her face, too. 1 I somehow held it together until the last guest left. Ethan was completely wasted. He’d lost his shoes somewhere and was stumbling barefoot on the gravel path outside the venue, his feet bleeding. He was leaning on Chloe like she was a lamppost, slurring, half-crying, half-laughing. “Heyyy, this lamppost is so… soft.” “You finally found your happiness, Chloe.” “I’m so happy today.” “I’m so, so, so happy for you!” For a split second, I almost believed him. I thought he was genuinely happy for me. But then the chat popped up again, shattering that last bit of hope. **【Ugh, my heart breaks for him. He’s dying inside but still has to pretend to be drunk to wish her well. 😭😭】** **【Here we go, here we go! The key plot point is coming! The FL is about to offer to take the ML home, and the loser husband will finally realize something’s off and throw a fit, which just makes the FL hate him more!】** **【Chloe, what are you doing just standing there?! Can’t you see his feet are bleeding? Go get his shoes!】** Chloe has a thing about germs. She won’t even touch my shoes after I’ve worn them. But right then, she walked back inside, found Ethan’s leather dress shoes, and knelt to put them on for him. I saw an emotion I’d never seen in her cool, distant eyes before: it looked like pain. Like she was hurting *for* him. She turned to me, her voice casual. “It’s late. He can’t get home like this. Is it okay if I give him a ride?” She was asking my opinion, just like she always did. Respecting me. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Are you sure?” My voice was unnaturally calm. “Chloe, it’s our wedding night.” I added, “I can call an Uber or ask one of the other groomsmen to take him.” A small frown creased her forehead. The chat messages flew across my vision. **【LMAO does he really think that’s going to make her stay?】** **【His wedding night? Who cares? The ML is a wreck right now, how could she just leave him?】** **【Get ready for her to shut him down HARD. His little tantrum is just gonna make our ML look even more sympathetic and sweet!】** I could see the conflict in Chloe’s eyes. After a moment of silence, she made her choice. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She turned to leave, but I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Wait.” She spun back, her patience clearly wearing thin. “I *said* I’ll be back soon.” I swallowed the suffocating tightness in my chest and tossed her my car keys. “Take my car.” She frowned, about to refuse. “He doesn’t get carsick in mine,” I added flatly. Chloe paused, then snatched the keys from the air. Before she got in the car, she rolled down the window. “Wait for me.” I watched them drive off. Then I calmly called a moving company. I had them clear out all of my belongings, which I had just moved into our new home yesterday. Then I left the house Chloe and I had bought together, paid in full. 2 I didn’t meet Chloe through Ethan. So, this whole time, I never knew they even knew each other, let alone that they had this kind of history. When I was set up on a blind date with Chloe, I’d been single for the better part of a decade. I’d given up on finding a soulmate. I went to the date with zero expectations, only to meet a woman who was, in every conceivable way, my perfect type. She came from a good family, she was stunningly beautiful, and wickedly smart. Her only flaw was that she was so rational, she sometimes came across as cold. But she was like that with everyone. Including herself. A month after we met, I was dropping her off after a date when we got mugged. The guy held a knife to her throat, but she didn’t even flinch. She just calmly negotiated with him. “If you leave now, I won’t call the police,” she said, her voice steady. “But there’s only one of you. I can fight you long enough for him to call for help. There’s a police station less than a block from here.” The mugger, panicked and angry, didn’t listen. He lunged, aiming the knife at her. In that split second, I didn’t think. I just knew I couldn’t let her get hurt. I threw myself in front of her, tackling the guy. The blade sank deep into my back, the pain so intense it stole my breath. Chloe immediately dropped to my side. She calmly called 911, then pressed her jacket against the wound to stop the bleeding. She only asked me one thing. “Why didn’t you run?” “Because I want to be your boyfriend, Chloe,” I gasped. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed speechless. Then her brow furrowed slightly. “But I don’t know how to love someone.” “That’s okay,” I said. “I know how to love you.” And just like that, I dove headfirst into her world. We started dating. And she was right; she didn’t know how to be affectionate. But she tried to learn. For me. She learned to buy me flowers on our anniversary. She learned to pick me up from work. She learned to cook my favorite meals. I thought that as long as she was willing to learn for me, it meant she loved me. I never imagined that she was just imitating what love was supposed to look like. That it didn’t mean she was actually in love with me. 3 From the live stream chat, I learned that Chloe and Ethan were high school sweethearts. They’d dated for three years. Right after graduation, Ethan’s mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and he had to drop out of college to go home. But when he got there, his abusive, alcoholic father, desperate to keep him from leaving again, found his official school records and destroyed them. His future was gone. With no prospects, he tearfully broke up with Chloe. He told her he didn’t want to hold her back. He said he’d met someone else, someone more suitable, and was going to marry her. From that day on, Chloe changed. The vibrant girl he knew disappeared, replaced by the quiet, cool, rational woman I met. She got into an Ivy League school, graduated, started a successful company with a partner, and never looked back. **【If it weren’t for this stupid side character, the ML and FL would’ve gotten back together when they ran into each other a year ago!】** **【Remember how the husband acted all generous, telling them to ‘catch up’? Little did he know they already knew every mole on each other’s bodies. 😂】** **【My heart aches for Ethan. He had such a tragic life, but he pulled himself up by his bootstraps. Cared for his mom until she passed, then made sure his dad ended up in prison. He started from nothing, got himself back into college, and became just as successful as Chloe. They’re a true power couple!】** **【NGL what does the husband even have? Some family money? A fancy degree? He’s nothing compared to our self-made king.】** **【Wait, this isn’t following the script. Isn’t he supposed to be fighting with Chloe right now? That fight is what’s supposed to make her realize how gentle and kind Ethan is!】** **【You don’t get it. This is his new tactic. The manipulative loser is running away from home! But it’s not gonna work. Ethan is super sick from the booze, so Chloe is gonna stay and take care of him all night. She won’t even know her husband is gone. What a waste of drama!】** Just as the chat predicted, Chloe wasn’t coming home. A text from her lit up my phone: **【Emergency meeting at the office. Let’s meet at the courthouse at 8 AM tomorrow to sign the papers.】** I just leaned back and closed my eyes. In that moment, I was profoundly grateful that we had the wedding first. Everything could still be undone. 4 I got to my parents’ house at 3 AM. They didn’t ask any questions. They just put fresh sheets on my bed, handed me a glass of warm milk, and my dad patted my shoulder. “Get some sleep, son.” I slept better than I had in months. When I woke up, it was already one in the afternoon. My phone showed two missed calls and two unread texts from Chloe. For her, that was the equivalent of a full-blown panic. And yet, for Ethan last night, she had promised three separate times, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I smirked and opened her messages. The first was from 8:15 AM: **【It’s 8:15. You’re late.】** The second, five minutes later: **【I only offered to take Ethan home because I was worried you’d be concerned about your best friend. If you’re angry about that, I fail to see the logic.】** I deleted our entire chat history without replying. Then I opened Instagram. Ethan had just posted a new story. A picture of a latte, with a caption: **【Woke up at 11 and there’s a perfect latte waiting for me. How did I get so lucky? 🙏】** My grip on my phone tightened, my knuckles turning white. It was just a picture of a coffee, but I knew, with absolute certainty, that Chloe had made it for him. Because I love lattes. One year, for my birthday, I’d wished that I could wake up every morning to a latte with foam art. So Chloe learned how to do it. But she could only ever make one design: a heart. And the tip of the heart always had a little tail, a long, thin line trailing off, exactly like the one in Ethan’s picture. Chloe had liked his post. The chat exploded. **【Poor baby. He’s lived alone for so long. Now he finally has her with him. ❤️】** **【LMAO the husband is probably still waiting for Chloe to come find him and apologize. Joke’s on him. He missed his chance this morning. If he played his cards right, he could’ve at least been the ‘ex-husband.’ Now he’s just an ex-boyfriend.】** I ignored the comments. I went to Ethan’s post and left a comment of my own. **【That’s the only design she knows how to make.】** 5 Because of that comment, my phone rang almost immediately. It was Chloe. Her voice, usually so detached, was sharp with accusation. “Liam, are you serious?” “You were the one who told me Ethan liked coffee. He was drunk and hadn’t eaten anything all night, so I made him one to settle his stomach.” “First you stand me up at the courthouse, and now you’re leaving comments like that on Ethan’s post? Why are you being so childish and irrational?” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to smother the rage flaring in my chest. But before I could speak, I heard a rustle on the other end. Ethan had taken the phone. His voice was laced with gentle reproach. “Chloe, don’t talk to Liam like that.” Then, he spoke directly to me, his tone full of concern. “Hey man, don’t be mad. And don’t… don’t blame Chloe.” He sighed. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. I’m sorry I ruined your wedding night.” He took a shaky breath, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Don’t get the wrong idea about us, okay? I swear to you, nothing happened between us. Chloe… she really loves you.” He said it with such familiarity, such confidence. “If she didn’t really love you, she never would have been with you this long. She never would have agreed to marry you…” Ethan’s voice cut off abruptly. There was a fumbling sound, and I knew Chloe had snatched the phone back. But in the split second before she hung up, I heard her ask him one thing, her voice choked with pain. “Ethan, is that what you really think?” The line went dead. A heavy, suffocating pressure built in my chest. I stared at the dark screen of my phone, feeling completely numb. **【I SHIP IT SO HARD. Who else felt that raw, hidden love in his voice? I’m dying.】** **【And Chloe! Can you imagine being misunderstood like that by the man you love? Chloe, stop holding back! Just tell him the truth already!】** **【The husband is gonna be so lost. He ran away from home and tried to cause drama on Insta to get her attention, but her mind is completely on the ML right now. She’s not gonna give him a second thought.】** **【LMAO he really thought he was so important to her. She hasn’t even realized he moved out yet!】** I put my phone down and let out a short, bitter laugh. So, *this* is what Chloe was like when she was truly in love. She didn’t not know how to love someone. She just didn’t know how to love *me*. I ignored the chat and called a real estate agent. I listed the house. Since it was newly renovated and I priced it to sell, I found a buyer almost immediately. They were a young couple, desperate to move in. So, even before the contracts were signed, I agreed to let them start moving their things into the house. At their request, I had the place completely cleared out. All the furniture we’d spent six months picking out together, gone. As I stood in the empty space that was once our “home,” I thought I would feel sad. Instead, I felt a profound sense of relief. As if a crushing weight had finally been lifted from my shoulders. The woman who was only *learning* to love me… I could finally let her go. 6 I didn’t contact Chloe for the next few days. But I saw traces of her all over Ethan’s Instagram. A picture of them at a trendy hot pot place famous for date nights. A selfie of them standing in front of their old high school. A series of stories from a road trip they had promised each other they’d take when they were kids. By the time they got back, my lawyer had the sales contract for the house drawn up. All it needed was Chloe’s signature to completely sever the last tie between us. So, for the first time in over a week, I called her. The chat went insane. **【Look look look! The side character finally caved! He’s calling her!】** **【LMAO what’s the point? She and Ethan are *this* close to getting back together. He’s been sitting around waiting for her to come home and apologize while his whole life got stolen from under him.】** **【For real. And this whole ‘selling the house’ stunt to make her jealous? Does he really think she’ll care?】** **【Got my popcorn ready. Can’t wait to watch him throw a massive tantrum about the house. The bigger the scene he makes, the more gentle and perfect our ML looks. This is the final push they need!】** **【Yessss, my OTP is finally getting their happy ending!】** Chloe picked up. Before I could say anything, she spoke. “Not mad anymore?” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. So, this whole time, she was just waiting for me to be the one to break the silence, to be the one to apologize. The truth was, I wasn’t mad anymore. Because I didn’t care anymore. “We need to meet, Chloe,” I said calmly. There was a pause on the other end, followed by a low, airy chuckle. “Fine. I’ll come home tonight.” “Don’t,” I said. “Let’s meet somewhere else.” “Why?” she asked. I hesitated. I decided it was better to tell her about the house in person. “It’s… not convenient,” I said vaguely. After all, the new owners had already moved in. It wouldn’t be right to barge in on them. 7 I never expected Chloe to go back to the “marital home” that evening. I booked a table at a Sichuan restaurant, texted her the address, and went back to focusing on my new startup. When I finished up and checked my phone, I saw a message from her, sent half an hour earlier. **【Ethan is going to join us for dinner.】** **【No matter what, you two are best friends. And you really did misunderstand him.】** **【I expect you to apologize to him, and then we can put this behind us. We can go back to our lives, and you two can go back to being friends.】** **【Oh, and Ethan can’t eat spicy food, so the Sichuan place is out. He offered to cook a few dishes at our place. Swing by the market on your way home and pick these up.】** She sent a long list of groceries. It was mostly seafood. I knew Ethan loved seafood. What I didn’t know was that Chloe had apparently forgotten that I’m deathly allergic to it. I ignored the list and was about to call and tell her not to go to the house when my phone rang. I answered, and Chloe’s voice, tight with fury, snarled in my ear. “Liam, why is there a couple living in our house, and why didn’t you think to ask for my opinion?!” “This is our HOME! How could you just let your friends move in without telling me?” “I’m on my way,” I said, and hung up. 8 When I got there, Chloe and Ethan were standing side-by-side on the porch, their faces grim. The couple who had bought the house were blocking the doorway, looking furious. The guy was only wearing a pair of boxers, half-unzipped, and the woman had thrown on a silk robe, her face flushed. The second they saw me, they rushed over. “Mr. Hayes, what the hell is going on? Did you sell this house without telling your wife?” “We already wired the money! If you back out now, you’ll be in breach of contract!” “That’s it, we already called the cops! This needs to be sorted out, right now!” I apologized profusely and managed to calm them down before I walked over to Chloe. Before I could speak, she hissed, her jaw tight. “Liam, if you wanted to let your friends stay here, I wouldn’t have cared. But you could have at least given me a heads-up! Do you have any idea what they were doing in our house? When I opened the door, they were on the couch—” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. Ethan finished for her, his face pale with disgust. “Dude, seriously. This is yours and Chloe’s home. For your friends to be doing… *that*… in here, it’s just not right.” Looking at their horrified expressions, I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. No wonder the new owners were so pissed. These two had walked in on something they shouldn’t have seen. “You think this is funny?” Chloe stared at me in disbelief. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” I sobered up and pulled the neatly folded sales agreement from my briefcase. “Sorry about that. I was going to tell you over dinner tonight. I really didn’t expect you to bring Ethan back here.” I handed her the document. “They aren’t my friends, Chloe.” “Technically, this is their property now.” “I sold them the house.”

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