1 Demoted, I crouched curb-side, shoveling salty street fries through tears. I texted Silas that I was exhausted and the fries helped. He did not reply. Half an hour later, shivering in the biting Seattle air, I texted again that I needed to talk. His response cut deep. What exactly is the point of this text? Are you trying to get me to reimburse you for your junk food? For six years, I had proven I was not a gold digger. Since his mother drained his accounts and left him millions in debt, Silas despised users. I never spent his money. We split every dinner bill. I returned expensive gifts. I kept our relationship hidden at work so my project results alone impressed the board. Refreshing my feed, I saw Mina, the intern who stole my promotion, post a photo wearing a diamond necklace. The caption thanked Mr. Blackwood for celebrating her promotion. I recognized the limited-edition piece from a magazine. Only three existed worldwide. In six years, Silas had never given me a gift worth more than a hundred dollars. The jewels against Mina’s collarbone were worth at least a million. Tears clouded my screen. My desperate attempts to prove my worth over the years were apparently worth less to him than a cheap carton of street fries. … After choking down the last bite, I hailed a cab back to the corporate tower. The promotion results were already posted on the internal network, but I still needed to ask him where I fell short. I had six years of project management experience. I ranked first in performance reviews for three consecutive years. My team had the lowest turnover rate in the entire company. And I lost to a twenty-two-year-old intern who had just passed her probation period. The moment I stepped out of the cab, I froze. Three yards away, Silas was leaning over, holding the passenger door of his sleek black Bentley open for Mina. “There is no rush on this project,” his voice drifted over, smooth and patient. “Just take your time getting familiar with the workflow. I am taking you to London in a couple of days to meet the clients. It will be a good learning experience.” “But I only just got hired full-time.” Mina sounded appropriately hesitant. “It does not matter.” Silas cut her off, his tone softer than I had ever heard it. “As long as you have the drive, titles do not mean anything. Besides, I am right here. If anything goes wrong, I have your back.” The warm summer wind brushed against my skin, but I felt ice-cold down to my bones. In six years, Silas had traveled to thirty-five countries for business. He never took me on a single trip. He always fed me the same line: “We do not mix personal feelings with company business.” I had even asked him once if I could go purely as the project lead. He had looked at me with cold, evaluating eyes. “Aria, are you trying to use your project metrics to extort a free business trip out of me? You need to remember your place in this company.” Remember my place. I remembered my place so well that I did not dare commute with him. I did not dare post a single picture of us online. I did not even dare step into the same elevator with him at work. And yet, he turned around and told another woman that titles did not mean anything. Mina spotted me standing by the curb and waved enthusiastically. “Aria!” Silas followed her gaze. His eyes swept over me for less than a second before returning to Mina. “Get in,” he told her. “I will drop you off so you can get some rest.” Mina nodded, flashing me a bright, innocent smile. “Are you heading back up to the office, Aria? Or do you want to catch a ride with us?” Silas finally looked at me. “Just call an Uber,” he said flatly. “Mina lives in the opposite direction. It is out of the way.” But at the end of the night, he still had to return to the apartment we shared. So what exactly was out of the way? Before I could force a single word out of my throat, he got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. I stood alone in the wind, watching the taillights bleed into the city traffic. I had been chasing that silhouette for six years. 2 There was a time when he would drive across the entire city just to pick me up from a grueling client dinner. Now, I was out of the way. Back at my desk, I logged into the HR portal and pulled up the evaluation matrix. Next to my name, Silas had entered his final score: 58 out of 100. Out of six board members, he gave me the absolute lowest score. I scrolled down to the next page. Next to Mina’s name, his score read: 98. I stared at that glowing 58, feeling like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. I could not breathe. I never expected the fatal blow to come from Silas. He knew exactly what I had sacrificed over the last six years better than anyone alive. He had watched every midnight overtime shift, every sleepless night before a pitch, every flawless quarterly report. Yet he gave me a failing grade. “Why?” I whispered to the empty office. The only answer was the wet slap of a tear hitting my keyboard, followed by the sudden, heavy drumming of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows. By the time I unlocked the door to our apartment, I was soaked to the bone. Silas was sitting on the leather sofa, a laptop balanced on his knees. He did not even bother to look up. “I told you to take an umbrella this morning.” No dry towel. No hot tea. Not even a shred of genuine concern. I stood in the entryway. Cold rainwater dripped from my hair, pooling onto the hardwood floor. “You gave me a 58 on the evaluation,” I said, my voice hollow. “You gave Mina a 98. Why did you give her the highest score and fail me?” Silas set his laptop on the glass coffee table and leaned back into the cushions. “Because it is fair.” “Fair?” “People in the office are starting to catch on to our relationship,” he said, his tone entirely clinical. “The other board members gave you high scores to save face for me. If I also gave you a high score, the entire evaluation process would lose its integrity. Someone had to give you a reality check, and it had to be me.” I stared at him, a bitter, broken laugh escaping my lips. “Silas, it has been six years. I have never used you to get a single advantage. I bled for every account I brought in. I applied for this promotion based entirely on my data. You know that better than anyone.” He picked up a glass of water, took a slow sip, and set it down with a sharp clink. “You still have not learned how the corporate world works, Aria. If people think you rely on nepotism, then you rely on nepotism. Period. I gave Mina the highest score because she gave her presentation without looking at her notes. She was passionate, composed, and she earned it.” “So you are admitting it,” I said, my voice rising. “You gave her a 98 not because of her actual competence, but because you liked her attitude?” Silas stood up, towering over me with a disappointed scowl. “Can you stop playing the victim every time you face a minor setback? You lost. Deal with it.” I tilted my head back, desperately trying to force the tears down, but my eyes burned like fire. “If I actually lost to her purely on merit, I would shake her hand and walk away. But I lost because of you! Because my boyfriend of six years, the man who saw every ounce of my blood and sweat, decided to play God! Your 58 dragged my average from first place down to fifth!” Silas clicked his tongue, his patience clearly evaporating. “This right here is exactly the difference between you and her. If Mina lost today, she would smile and congratulate you. She stays positive. She does not point fingers. And look at you. You just stand there wallowing in your own misery.” A hysterical laugh tore from my throat as the tears finally spilled over. “I have been wallowing in misery for six years, Silas! Do you know what I am actually miserable about? The fact that I never got to have a normal relationship! Six years of splitting the check, six years of rejecting your gifts, six years of refusing to get in your car just so the whole company could audit my achievements with a microscope.” 3 “I lived like a ghost just to prove I was not the kind of woman you despised!” Silas said nothing. He just stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, watching me fall apart. My legs gave out. I sank to the floor, my hands pressed against the cold wood. Rainwater and tears dripped from my chin. “Six years,” I sobbed, my whole body shaking. “I tried so hard. Why do I have nothing to show for it? Why did it have to be you who ruined it?” Silas’s phone buzzed. He answered it, and instantly, his voice softened into something incredibly gentle. “Mina? Yeah, I am here.” “That market analysis… I will send you a template right now. No, it is not a bother at all.” Mina’s voice leaked through the receiver, soft and insecure. “Mr. Blackwood, am I just completely useless at this?” “You are not useless,” he murmured. “I will walk you through it step by step.” A travel pack of tissues hit the floor next to my knee with a soft thud. “If you are going to cry, do it quietly,” Silas said coldly. “She is still at the office rushing a proposal. You can throw a pity party over a little failure, but at least give the people who actually want to succeed some peace and quiet.” When I walked into the office pantry the next morning, the room was buzzing with whispers. The moment I stepped inside, the chatter died instantly. Someone coughed loudly. Another person stared intently at their empty coffee mug. “Did you hear? The CEO’s little pet project totally tanked.” “I always knew her whole independent boss-lady act was fake. God knows how long she has been sleeping her way up.” “Well, the new girl got it on pure talent. Mina did not need a sugar daddy.” “Maybe Aria is just getting too old to keep him interested in bed.” I stood frozen by the doorway, my fingernails digging into my palms so hard they almost drew blood. Mina walked over, holding a freshly brewed mug of coffee. “Aria, you are here.” She looked up at me with wide, apologetic eyes. “I feel so terrible about yesterday. You are my senior, and winning against you just feels… wrong.” She held the mug out toward me. “Please let me buy you this coffee as an apology. I still have so much to learn from you.” She held the mug suspended in the air for a full five seconds. I finally reached out to take it. But the exact second my fingertips grazed the ceramic, she let go. Scalding dark roast splashed across my chest and cascaded down to my stomach. I gasped, stumbling backward as the burning pain bit into my skin. Mina froze for a split second, then stared at her own empty hands in horror. “Aria… did you not have a grip on it?” she stammered, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. “I know you are mad at me, but you did not have to drop it on purpose.” Her voice trembled pitifully. “That coffee was literally boiling. It burned my fingers just holding it.” The entire room turned to glare at me. “Mina tried to be nice, and she pulls a stunt like this? Letting it spill all over herself just to make the poor girl look bad?” “Losing a promotion and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. How pathetic.” “What is going on in here?” The crowd parted. Silas walked into the pantry. His eyes swept over Mina’s teary face, then landed on my ruined, coffee-stained silk blouse. His brows pulled together in a harsh frown. “I tried to bring Aria a coffee, and she did not catch it,” Mina sobbed quietly. “It was just an accident.” “I did not—” I started to speak. “Did you burn your hands?” Silas cut me off, looking directly at Mina. Mina glanced down at her pristine white cuff. There was a tiny, singular brown drop on the fabric. “No, just a little splash,” she whispered. Silas finally looked at me. His eyes were like jagged ice. “Clean up your own mess, Aria. Go buy her a new shirt.” 4 I looked down at my own chest. The skin beneath the wet fabric was already turning angry red and blistering. “I—” “Do not cause a scene and disrupt the workflow.” His voice was utterly devoid of emotion. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing. He was looking at me like I was a stranger off the street. I opened my mouth, then closed it. Whatever. It did not matter what I said. He was never going to believe me anyway. I gave a stiff nod, turned on my heel, and walked out without another word. I went down to the designer boutique on the ground floor of our corporate building, pulled a blouse off the rack, and walked to the register. The cashier scanned the tag, then looked up at me with profound concern. “Miss, this is definitely not your size. Do you need me to grab a different one?” she asked gently. “Also, that burn on your chest looks really severe. Do you want me to call a medic first?” I glanced down. A massive, dark brown stain stretched from my collarbone to my stomach, clinging to my skin. The burned area was violently red, and several blisters had already formed. Even a random cashier could see it. But Silas could only see the single drop of coffee on Mina’s sleeve. “I am fine. Thank you.” I tapped my card, grabbed the shopping bag, and took the elevator back up. Standing in the sleek, marble lobby of the company I had bled for, the tears finally fell. No one was coming to save me. The man who used to drive across the city just to bring me soup was dead and gone. I dropped the fresh blouse on Mina’s desk. Silas was leaning over her cubicle. “You got quite a scare today. Take the rest of the day off to recover.” “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.” Silas did not even glance in my direction. “Aria, you will cover her workload for the day.” My face was completely blank. I just gave a slight nod and walked back to my desk. Sitting next to my keyboard was a sealed tube of burn ointment. Underneath it was a yellow sticky note with familiar handwriting: [Make sure you apply this.] I picked it up, stared at it for a second, and dropped it straight into the trash can under my desk. I booted up my computer. A task list popped up on my screen, crammed with Mina’s unfinished grunt work. Every time I hit a key, the blisters on my chest stretched and burned. At exactly six o’clock, I finished the last line of a report. I opened a blank Word document and typed two words in bold at the top: Resignation Letter. Right before clock-out, Mina strolled back into the office, looking radiant. “Aria, about the London contract, I really need to draft the final terms myself. I want to be hands-on with my own accounts.” She tilted her head. “You do not mind, do you?” “Go ahead.” The next morning, the second I stepped off the elevator, the office was in absolute chaos. “The numbers on the London contract are completely screwed up.” “The company just hemorrhaged millions because of that typo.” “Who signed off on it?” Mina was standing outside Silas’s glass office, her eyes puffy and red. “Aria, did you handle this contract yesterday?” Silas’s voice cut through the noise. I walked over and looked at the printed document on the desk. The final payout amount had been altered drastically. “I did not touch those numbers.” “Mina said she handed it over to you for final review yesterday evening.” “She insisted on writing it herself. She gave it to me to check, I corrected a few formatting errors, but I know for a fact the financial figures were correct when it left my desk.” Mina let out a choked sob. “Aria, I know you hate me for taking your promotion, but you really did not have to do this. You can be mad at me, but you cannot mess with the company’s money! You know how much blood and sweat Mr. Blackwood put into building this place!” Silas stepped out of his office. His gaze landed on me like a physical weight. “Did you review the contract?” “Yes. But I verified the numbers. I only fixed the formatting.” 5 “She says you changed the payout.” “And you just blindly believe her? Silas, I have given this company six years of my life. Have I ever made a mistake this pathetic?” The entire floor went dead silent. Silas looked at me, his dark eyes colder than a Seattle winter. “Aria, you are suspended.” He paused, making sure his voice carried down the hallway. “Effective immediately, human resources will freeze your portfolio. Every project you have completed, every piece of revenue you claim to have brought in, is now void.” “Because you have proven that you lack the basic professionalism required for your role.” Lacking professionalism. He took six years of my youth, my loyalty, and my late-night panic attacks, compressed them into two words, and slapped me across the face with them. All those midnight emails. All the new hires I trained. All the moments he sat in boardrooms and nodded at me with pride. None of it mattered anymore. He wiped my existence from the company with a single sentence. “And frankly, you should be grateful you failed the promotion,” he added ruthlessly. “This company does not tolerate emotional sabotage in upper management.” I stared at him, swallowing hard. I tried to force my voice out, but there was a massive lump blocking my throat. I could not make a sound. The whispers started again, crawling out from the cubicles like roaches. “Who does she think she is? Editing contracts because she throws a fit?” “She really thought the CEO would cover for her just because they were hooking up.” “Let me make something abundantly clear,” Silas announced to the floor. “Aria and I have absolutely no personal relationship.” He turned back to the staff. “The office rumors end today.” Silence fell over the room. Silas grabbed Mina by the wrist and pulled her toward the elevator. She leaned into his side, looking like a frightened bird. “Do not stress over this. I will handle the fallout,” he told her softly. “Do not let this ruin your mood for London.” I watched his broad shoulders disappear into the elevator. He felt so incredibly far away. Like I had never known him at all. That evening, I packed up my desk. As I walked out of the glass doors holding a cardboard box, I saw Mina’s latest social media post. It was a picture of a VIP airport lounge. Silas’s back was visible in the distance. [Taking off for London with the boss! The future is bright!] A second later, a text from Silas popped up on my screen. [I am heading to London. I will be back next Wednesday. We need to have a serious talk when I return.] I stared at the message. Talk about what? The 58 he gave me? The million-dollar diamond around his intern’s neck? The fact that he publicly humiliated me and erased my career in front of a hundred people? I went to his contact profile, hit “Block,” and deleted the chat history. The night wind whipped through my hair as I carried my box down into the subway station. By the time he landed back in Seattle, Aria would no longer exist in his world. It was past midnight when I got back to the apartment. I dropped the box in the hallway, walked into the bedroom, and ripped open the closet doors. I shoved my clothes into two large suitcases. I emptied the bathroom drawers. I tossed out half-used lipsticks, old notebooks, and tangled chargers. When I reached the very back of my nightstand, my fingers brushed against a small wooden box. I opened it. Inside was a stack of polaroids. Springtime, six years ago. Our very first date. He was standing under a blooming cherry tree. I had pointed the camera at him, and he had looked down at me, a genuine, unguarded smile on his face. The next photo was our two-year anniversary. He booked a ridiculously expensive steakhouse. I told him we should split it. He smiled and said, “Not tonight.” The next was my birthday, year three. He gave me a woolen scarf. The price tag, still tucked inside, said $25.

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Mother died of cancer. Father fell into a deep depression and followed her soon after. Alone in the funeral parlor surrounded by white flowers, I called my husband, desperate to hear his voice. Instead, his words cut through the receiver like ice. “Is depression genetic in your family? If you are sick, go see a shrink. Do not drag other people down with you like your parents did.” In the background, I heard his secretary, Beth, whine softly. “Mr. Sterling… my stomach hurts.” His tone shifted instantly, growing impatient with me. “We have been in meetings all night. I have not even had time to eat. I do not have time to listen to you cry. Unless someone is dying, do not call me again.” He hung up. I swallowed my grief, finalizing the funeral arrangements alone. Exhausted and having eaten nothing in three days, I collapsed in the hall. Waking in the ER, my phone lit up with a notification from Beth’s livestream. On the screen, a man’s hands wearing a platinum band identical to mine handed her a perfectly baked soufflé. Beth covered her mouth, eyes wide with feigned delight. “Wow! I casually mentioned I could not stomach my medicine without a dessert, and you actually baked this from scratch?” I looked at my own ring finger. My heart began to throb with a sharp, rhythmic pain. He was not too busy. He just did not love me anymore. 1 Realizing that his wedding band was visible to thousands of viewers, Karl quickly pulled his hand back. When his hand reappeared in the frame, the ring was gone. Only a pale indentation remained on his skin. This blatant attempt to hide his marriage pleased Beth immensely. Her coy giggles prompted Karl to reach out and pinch her cheek. His voice was dripping with affection. “Stop laughing like a fool. Did you not say you wanted this? Tell me how it tastes.” “I failed over a hundred times at the bakery before I finally got this one right. If it is good, you have to be a good girl and drink your stomach medicine.” Beth’s face flushed red. She took a small bite of the souffle, chewing slowly. Karl stared at her, his eyes full of eager anticipation. He looked like a completely different person from the man who had just told me he was too busy to eat and too busy to listen to my grief. “Mr. Sterling, this is absolutely incredible!” Beth practically purred. “Whoever gets to be your wife will be the luckiest woman alive!” Lucky? We had been together for five years and married for three. Karl had never cooked a single meal for me. He always said he was busy. He said he was busy building an empire so I could be the envy of every woman in the city. He said his time was too valuable to waste on menial domestic tasks. But now, just to coax his secretary into taking her antacids, he had spent hours in a bakery learning how to make a souffle. He had the time to fail a hundred times over a dessert, but he did not have the time to attend my parents’ funeral. He could not even spare a single word of comfort. Karl reached out and naturally wiped a smudge of powdered sugar off Beth’s lip with his thumb. The live chat exploded. [Do not use your hands! Use your mouth! Kiss her!] Beth smiled wickedly and took another messy bite, intentionally getting more sugar on her lips. The chat went wild. [Here is your second chance! Do not mess it up this time!] The camera suddenly jerked, and the livestream abruptly ended. But that quick camera movement was enough for me to recognize the background. Beth was admitted to the exact same hospital as me. Driven by a morbid curiosity, I dragged my exhausted body down the hall to her VIP suite. Through the glass window on the door, I saw Karl rubbing a smudge of red lipstick off his mouth. His face was slightly flushed. “Beth, that was the last time.” “I have to go check on Sienna in a bit. I heard she fainted at the funeral.” The moment he mentioned my name, all the gentleness vanished from his voice, replaced by heavy exhaustion. Beth’s smile froze. She immediately pushed the dessert tray away. “Then you should hurry up and go be with your wife. Why are you wasting time baking for me?” He twisted the wedding ring he had put back on his finger and let out a long sigh. “There is no rush. I will go see her after you drink your medicine and your stomach stops hurting.” My eyes fell on the small plastic cup of medicine on her nightstand. I had taken that exact same gastric coating liquid before. It was barely a mouthful, and it did not even taste bitter. But Beth held the cup for a long time, her pretty face scrunching up in dramatic disgust. Karl, a man completely devoid of patience, coaxed her softly. “Just drink it like a good girl, and I will stay with you for another hour.” Beth finally smiled and brought the cup to her lips. My heart twisted like a wet rag. I turned to walk away, but my legs gave out. I collapsed backward, desperately grabbing the metal door handle on my way down to break my fall. The door swung open with a loud crash. Startled by the noise, Beth choked on her medicine, coughing until her face turned bright red. Karl spent a good minute patting her back before he finally turned to look at the doorway. “Sienna?” I was sprawled on the cold linoleum floor, completely drained of strength, black spots dancing in my vision. But I could still see the absolute icy contempt in Karl’s eyes. “What exactly are you doing?” he demanded. “Throwing a pity party to get sympathy? Or are you just trying to scare Beth?” “I did not…” I whispered weakly. He ignored me and yelled down the hall for a nurse. “Get her out of here. Do not let her disturb the other patients.” The approaching nurse assumed we were strangers. She hurriedly apologized to him. “Sir, I am so sorry she disturbed you and your wife. I will take her back to her room right now.” Karl did not correct her assumption. As the nurse helped me out of the room, she pulled out my phone to call my emergency contact. “Hello? Where are you? Your wife just collapsed again in the hallway…” Karl’s voice boomed through the receiver. “Sienna! Are you ever going to stop this nonsense?” Hearing the exact same angry voice coming from the phone and the room behind her, the nurse froze in absolute shock. “That guy in there… is your husband?” I forced a weak smile. “Not for much longer.” The nurse saw the utter desolation in my eyes. She hung up the phone and silently helped me back to the IV room. I was physically exhausted, but sleep refused to come. Instead, I pulled out my phone and texted my lawyer. [Draft a divorce agreement.] I did not fall into a heavy sleep until the PDF arrived and I digitally signed it. I slept so deeply that I did not realize the IV needle had slipped out of my vein. The fluid had pooled under my skin, forming a painful lump the size of a golf ball on the back of my hand. I woke up to a sharp, throbbing pain just as Karl pushed the door open. He glanced at my swollen hand. Not a flicker of concern crossed his face. “Did you time this perfectly just for my arrival?” “It is just a little saline drip, Sienna. Your desperate attempts to play the victim are getting ridiculous.” He did not call a nurse. He did not ask if it hurt. He simply reached over and aggressively yanked the needle out of my flesh. The sudden violence of his movement caused a spray of blood droplets to shoot from the puncture wound. A few drops landed on his crisp white dress shirt. Karl, a notorious germaphobe, scowled deeply. “Sienna! Have you had enough of this tantrum?” I stared blankly at the blood still welling up from my hand. It felt like I was watching my own heart bleed out. “What tantrum, Karl?” He told me he was too busy with meetings to comfort me, so I handled my parents’ funeral entirely on my own. He took off his wedding ring to flirt with his secretary, and I did not expose him. He told me not to disturb Beth’s rest, so I obediently walked away with the nurse. He forcefully ripped a needle out of my vein, and I did not utter a single cry of pain. What exactly did he want from me? “You have the nerve to ask me that? I told you not to call unless it was an absolute emergency, and you had your relatives blow up my phone a dozen times!” “Why can you not be understanding like Beth? Why do you constantly force me to deal with your petty, meaningless drama?” My chest tightened again. So, his secretary throwing a fit over stomach medicine required him to bake a souffle and coax her like a child. That was called being “understanding.” But me, silently burying my parents and bearing the weight of the world alone, was considered “meaningless drama.” I pulled the printed divorce agreement from the bedside table and handed it to him. “Sign it. You will never have to deal with my drama again.” A flash of shock crossed his irritated eyes, quickly replaced by intense disgust. “Sienna! First the pity play, now you are threatening me with a divorce? Are you just going down a checklist of manipulation tactics?” “I am out there breaking my back every single day to give you a perfect life. Endless meetings, endless client dinners, endless proposals. And what do you do?” “You stay at home. You water the flowers. You bask in the sun and play the elegant Mrs. Sterling. What exactly are you so dissatisfied with?” I watched his lips move, feeling like I had been plunged into an ice bath. “Karl, just because I do not commute to the corporate office does not mean I sit around doing nothing. Every single flagship product design your company launched this year was drafted and finalized by me.” “It has been five years. Did I ask to stay home? You begged me to work remotely so I could curate your precious exotic greenhouse. You needed me here to bathe and feed your stroke-survivor mother. You needed me to watch your Alzheimer’s-stricken father so he would not wander into traffic!” “Does everything I sacrificed for this family mean absolutely nothing to you?” He grabbed a tissue and tossed it onto my lap. “Enough. There is no point in talking to you. You refuse to understand my pressure, and I refuse to validate your delusions. You always play the victim. You only ever complain instead of actually solving the problem.” “If you want to enjoy the status and luxury of being my wife, you need to prove you deserve to stand beside me.” “Do you really think your current behavior makes you worthy?” He was not asking a question. He had already decided I was guilty. I smiled bitterly and wiped a stray tear from my cheek. “You are right. I am not worthy. Please, just sign the papers.” He snatched the divorce agreement, flipped through the first two pages, and tossed it straight into the garbage can. “Do not throw the word divorce around lightly. Because the second I actually take you seriously, there will be no turning back.” “I am not going to let the media say I abandoned my wife the moment her parents died.” “While you were busy with the funeral, Beth hired a private nurse to look after my parents. She even went to our house to tend to your greenhouse. I was checking in on her out of gratitude. Stop letting your paranoia run wild.” “I brought a gift. Once you fix your attitude, you are going to go over to her room and properly thank her.” So, taking care of his parents and my plants was framed as a favor to me. How utterly laughable. Before I could refuse, he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. The contents instantly pierced my eyes. Inside was the finished product of the third-anniversary diamond ring I had designed myself. It was supposed to be a matching set, but when my mother got sick, I only had time to forge the women’s band. “Do you still want me to make the men’s band?” I asked, suppressing the bitter taste of bile in my mouth. He pulled his current wedding ring off and showed me the red indentation on his finger. “Yes. This one is getting a little tight. I need the new one.” He said it so casually, completely oblivious to the sacred meaning behind a custom set of vows in metal. “Fine. Sign the divorce papers, and I will make it.” Karl scowled, but a smug smirk touched the corner of his lips. “Sienna, stop throwing a tantrum. I promised your parents I would take care of you for the rest of your life. As long as you finish my ring, I will clear my schedule and attend your parents’ memorial service next week.” I stared at the man I had loved for eight years. For the first time, he looked like a terrifying stranger. “Fine.” I would make the ring. But I did not need his care anymore. He looked at my compromise with a knowing, victorious expression. “If you wanted me to attend the memorial, you should have just asked nicely. Why did you have to put on this massive theatrical performance? You are so exhausting.” “Do you not know that the squeaky wheel gets the grease?” I actually laughed out loud. So, getting a son-in-law to attend the final rites of his wife’s parents required me to get on my knees and beg for his charity. But I had begged him. And what did he do? “I called you. What did you say to me?” Karl rubbed his temples, completely losing his patience. “I am busy. I am exhausted. Why can you not just be mature? Look at Beth…” Since the moment he walked into my hospital room, he had not offered a single word of comfort. His entire objective was to force me to hand over the women’s ring—the ring I designed for myself—to Beth, and then guilt me into finishing his matching band. My parents’ death was nothing but a bargaining chip to him. Suddenly, a massive commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Someone was screaming about jumping out of a window. “Do not stop me! Mr. Sterling and I are completely innocent, but his wife is texting me, calling me a homewrecker! I cannot live with this humiliation!” Hearing Beth’s hysterical cries, Karl’s face drained of color. He shot me a death glare and sprinted out of the room. I had no interest in watching their soap opera. I walked out to the nurses’ station to get a bandage for my bleeding hand. The young nurse carefully cleaned the dried blood, whispering furiously. “Ma’am, your husband’s secretary is a piece of work! The second she saw him walk into your room, she started this whole suicide act!” “You cannot divorce him. Do not let that manipulative snake win!” I thanked the nurse for her kindness and turned back to my room. But the moment I sat on the edge of the bed, Karl stormed in, his face twisted in absolute fury. He grabbed my arm and violently yanked me to my feet. “Get up. You are going to apologize to Beth right now.” “And I am warning you, if you send her one more disgusting, abusive text, I will let her press charges against you for harassment.” “And do not expect me to protect you. And definitely do not expect me to show up at your parents’ memorial!” That was when I realized Beth had received anonymous hate texts after I left, calling her a mistress. “I did not send those texts…” “Shut up! You are still lying!” “Do not think I do not know you faked fainting just to spy on Beth and me! I was willing to let it slide, but this crosses the line!” Seeing my desolate expression, his tone softened slightly, though it remained frozen in authority. “Enough. Just go apologize to her, and I will take your side and protect you from the fallout. After all, you just lost your parents, and you probably inherited their mental instability…” I stood absolutely still. Suddenly, I lost all desire to defend myself. Blindly accusing me of a crime without a shred of evidence—that was what Karl called “taking my side.” And he finally acknowledged the pain of losing my parents, but only to use it as an excuse to force me into soothing Beth’s ego. I did not know how he dragged me down the hall to her room. All I knew was the sudden, sharp pain in my knees. When I blinked, I realized I was kneeling on the floor beside Beth’s hospital bed. Karl shoved the velvet ring box into my hands, his voice a harsh command. “Did you not say you were going to thank her? Do it.” I let out a hollow, broken laugh. I opened the velvet box and held it up toward Beth. “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” Before Karl could process his shock, I pushed myself off the floor and bolted for the door. Karl stuck his foot out and tripped me. I crashed hard into the doorframe. “Sienna!” he roared. “Is that your idea of an apology? Get back here and do it right!” Beth quickly grabbed his arm, tears streaming down her perfectly applied makeup. “Mr. Sterling, please do not be mad! She is just grieving. I do not blame her… as long as she stops calling me a homewrecker…” Her brilliant display of fake grace and kindness moved Karl deeply. “Do not worry. If she ever insults you again, I will make her regret it for the rest of her life.” Right as he said that, a group of loud, aggressive people stormed into the hospital room. They claimed to be my relatives. They started hurling raw eggs and wilted lettuce at Beth. “You cheap homewrecker! You really know how to sink your claws into a man! You completely brainwashed Mr. Sterling!” Karl quickly shielded Beth with his own body. Egg yolks and trash splattered across his expensive suit and face. Beth pushed weakly against his chest. “Mr. Sterling, get out of the way! They are here for me!” Karl held her tighter, shouting at the crowd. “I will say this one last time! Beth is not a homewrecker!” “Sienna, call off your insane family right now! Or I swear to God I am calling the police!” I looked at the screaming mob. I had never seen any of these people in my life. Tears of hysterical laughter pricked my eyes. “They are not my relatives. I do not know them!” The mob instantly turned toward me, their voices dripping with fake sympathy. “Oh, Sienna, do not be scared! We are here for you! We will not let anyone bully you!” Then they turned their wrath back on Karl. “Mr. Sterling, out of respect for Sienna, we will not hurt you. But you need to step aside and let us teach this trash a lesson! If she had not seduced you, you would have been at the funeral to send off Sienna’s parents! She reeks of cheap perfume. Can you not smell it?” One of the women pulled out a phone and started recording Beth’s egg-covered face. “A slut like you deserves to die!” “But before you do, the whole internet is going to see exactly what you are!” Karl, realizing this mob was utterly unhinged, immediately pulled out his phone and dialed 911. Beth snatched the phone out of his hand, weeping violently. “Mr. Sterling, no! Just let it go! It is all my fault. Do not ruin your marriage over me…” But Karl snatched the phone back and hit send. Beth’s face paled dramatically. She looked at the mob, her voice trembling. “You guys need to get Sienna out of here right now! If Mr. Sterling gets the cops involved, you will all go to jail!” The “relatives” who had just sworn to defend my honor instantly grabbed me by the arms and dragged me toward the exit. Realizing something was horribly wrong, I thrashed wildly, screaming at Karl. “I really do not know them! Help me!” Karl just sneered in disgust. “Your shamelessness truly knows no bounds.” A sweaty hand clamped hard over my mouth. I was dragged into the service elevator. Within seconds, a sickeningly sweet chemical smell filled my nose, and my vision faded to black. Total despair washed over me. Was I really going to be kidnapped in broad daylight while my husband watched? When I finally woke up and saw my surroundings, my blood ran cold.

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1 My husband had a face carved by angels, drawing eyes everywhere he went. The first time it happened was on the subway. A cute girl with big, dewy eyes asked for his number. He didn’t even look up. The second time was at the beach. A stunning woman in a bikini approached him. He turned on his heel and walked away. The third time, the fourth time… every attempt was met with cold, unyielding rejection. I couldn’t help complaining to my best friend that he was a total stiff, though deep down, my heart was practically singing. Hazel just snorted. “He’s acting. No man turns down free food. Don’t believe me? Try texting him from an alt account.” For three whole days, my friend request sat there unanswered. Just as I was secretly gloating, the request was accepted. I typed out a message: “Hey handsome, I really like you.” He replied with a single sentence: “Stay away. I’m married.” I burst out laughing, screenshotted the reply, and sent it to Hazel, telling her she owed me my autumn iced boba tea. The very next second, he sent a photo. Along with a caption: “See this? This is my wife. Beautiful, right? Stop harassing me, she’ll get upset if she sees this.” The smile froze on my lips. In the photo, the woman snuggled intimately against his shoulder was painfully familiar. It was my best friend, Hazel. A wave of nausea hit me as I realized I had spent the last eight years living as an absolute fool. The dream was over. It was time to wake up. … Ralph finished ordering food. Seeing me staring blankly at my phone, he reached out with a warm smile to pat my head. “What’s wrong, babe? Starving to death?” I subtly leaned back, dodging his hand. My chest felt hollow and heavy. His hand froze in mid-air, a frown tugging at his brows as he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong. Right on cue, Hazel burst through the restaurant doors. She dropped into the seat beside me, holding two iced boba drinks, and pushed one toward me. It was my favorite Mango Sago. “Here, your autumn boba tea. A bet’s a bet.” Ralph shot her a contemptuous look. “Just one drink? How cheap can you get? What did you even bet my girl?” Hazel rolled her eyes. “Mind your own business! If you’re so generous, why don’t you pay for this hot pot?” Usually, whenever they started bickering like this, I would laugh and play mediator. This time, I stayed dead silent. I poked the straw through the seal and took a deep gulp. It tasted bitter, without a single trace of sweetness. The two of them exchanged a strange look, sensing something off, though neither could put a finger on it. Hazel took a sip of her Peach Oolong tea, wrinkled her nose, and pushed it aside in disgust. “Gross. Tastes terrible.” Ralph gave her a look of utter disdain. “If it’s terrible, why push it over here? Who wants your spit?” Hazel nearly rolled her eyes to the back of her head. “I was asking you to throw it in the trash, your majesty!” Ralph grumbled under his breath about her bossing him around, but his hand reached out anyway. He grabbed the cup, put his lips directly over the straw she had just used, and took a long sip. Then, he frowned. “Yeah, it really is gross.” My eyes locked onto that straw. The red lipstick smudge was wet with saliva, smeared heavily around the tip. A sharp, stinging pain throbbed in my chest. When we first started dating, Ralph told me he was a severe germaphobe. Even during the peak of our honeymoon phase, he never ate off my plate or drank from my glass. When we kissed, he would carefully wipe the lipstick off my lips with a wet tissue first, keeping the touch brief and gentle. Yet just now, he didn’t mind Hazel’s saliva at all. The server brought out the dishes. Ralph kept scooping cooked meat into my bowl until it piled up like a small mountain. Hazel moved fast, reaching her chopsticks across the table to grab the last piece of shrimp paste. Her grip slipped. The shrimp paste plummeted back into the pot, sending a wave of scalding hot broth splashing across the table. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut as intense burning heat seared the skin of my forearm. When I opened my eyes, Ralph was half-standing. He had grabbed Hazel’s wrist, pulling her firmly behind his body to shield her. “Do you have a brain?” he roared at her, his voice laced with explosive anger and raw, unfiltered worry. “How many times have I told you to use the slotted spoon?” Hazel felt guilty, but her pride kept her from backing down. She shoved his hand away. “Why are you screaming at me? It didn’t even splash on you! Stop acting so delicate!” “I was afraid it would splash on my girl!” Hearing those words, I pulled a napkin from the dispenser and quietly wiped the spicy oil off my skin. My hand trembled slightly, knocking my chopsticks off the table. I bent down to pick them up. Underneath the tablecloth, I saw Ralph’s leg pressed tightly against Hazel’s calf. Hazel had slipped off her high heels. Her bare ankle was wrapped around his leg like a creeping vine. Above the table, they were still arguing, neither willing to yield an inch. “Can you stop kicking the table? You knocked my girl’s chopsticks onto the floor!” “Which eye saw me kick it? Your hands were shaking, stop blaming me for everything!” I straightened my back and slammed the dirty chopsticks onto the wooden table with a heavy thud. “I’ll get a fresh pair.” Turning on my heel, I walked toward the service counter. The moment I turned the corner into the hallway, my knees buckled, and I slumped heavily against the wall. Memories from the past eight years flashed through my mind like a horror movie. All those fierce, constant arguments between them. All the hidden glances and secret touches buried in the dark. I finally understood it all. I just didn’t know how far they had actually gone. Pulling myself together, I walked back to the table, pretending nothing had happened. After paying the bill, Ralph stepped outside to answer a phone call. When he returned, he told me he had to go back to the office for urgent overtime. “Babe, I called a cab for you. Text me the moment you get home, okay?” He pressed a gentle kiss onto my forehead. Hazel waved her hand dramatically. “Alright, alright, spare me the public display of affection.” She shot Ralph a quick look. “Actually, drop me off at the shopping mall on your way.” Ralph acted annoyed, but he still opened the passenger door for her. The two cars pulled out one after the other. As my cab approached the main intersection, I spoke up quietly to the driver. “Follow that Mercedes.” The driver’s eyes lit up with instant curiosity. Sure enough, the Mercedes didn’t head toward the mall, nor did it head toward his office building. Instead, it drove straight into a residential neighborhood I knew all too well. It pulled into the parking lot right beneath Hazel’s building. I sat in the back of the cab, rolling down the window. A few minutes later, the lights on the eighth floor flickered on. The living room curtains weren’t drawn. Two silhouettes were wrapped around each other, tangled in a passionate, desperate embrace. I pushed the car door open and walked upstairs. Standing outside Hazel’s apartment, I pushed lightly against the door. It wasn’t even locked. The air inside was thick with heavy, suffocating intimacy. I reached out and flipped the main light switch in the living room. A sharp scream cut through the apartment. Ralph bolted off the sofa, his eyes wildly searching the entryway. The moment his eyes met mine, his flushed face turned deadly pale. “Babe… what are you doing here?” Hazel frantically pushed Ralph away, scrambling to straighten her clothes. I walked over to a dining chair opposite the couch and sat down calmly. My gaze drifted between the two of them, finally settling on Hazel. “When did it start?” Hazel raised her hands, stammering frantically. “Sierra, it’s not what you think. We were just…” “When did it start!” I cut her off, my voice sharp as a blade. Ralph took a step toward me. “Babe, let me explain.” “I am asking her!” My eyes locked onto Hazel with cold fury. Hazel’s eyes welled with tears. After a agonizing pause, she whispered, “Three… three years ago.” Three years ago? That was right after Ralph and I got married. Hazel had gone through a horrific breakup back then, crying herself to sleep every single night. I took her out for fresh air, took her shopping, took her on vacations. I bought her designer clothes, bags, and makeup. Ralph had even pretended to be jealous back then, complaining that I spent more time comforting my best friend than being with my new husband. It turned out they were already sleeping together back then. “Hazel, how could you do this to me?” I asked quietly. She slid off the couch, crawling toward me on her knees to grab my hand. I pulled away instantly. “Sierra, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to ruin your marriage. I was just… I was in so much pain.” I looked at her with pure ice in my eyes. “You were in pain, so you decided to destroy my life?” Hazel knelt on the floor, weeping hysterically. Ralph couldn’t watch it anymore. “Enough, Sierra! Stop it! Hazel has severe clinical depression! She tried to kill herself multiple times! Stop backing her into a corner!” I shifted my eyes to him. “I’m backing her into a corner? You two are pushing me into an abyss!” I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and pulled up the chat screen. “Ralph, she has depression. What’s your excuse? Why did you send this photo from your alt account calling her your wife? What did you mean by that?” His pupils dilated instantly. He snatched the phone from my hand, scanning the screen over and over. “This… this account was you?! You used a fake account to test me?! You don’t trust me at all?” “Trust?” I let out a bitter laugh, pointing at his disheveled shirt and messy hair. “This is what my trust got me.” Choking on his words, he stood there speechless for a long moment before raspy words escaped his throat. “Babe, what’s between Hazel and me isn’t what you think. Give me some time. Once her mental health improves, I’ll cut all ties with her. I swear!” He raised his right hand. “The only person I have ever loved is you.” I never knew vows could sound so utterly revolting. “Ralph, let’s get a divorce.” Saying those words out loud still made my heart ache with a fierce, tearing pain. Ralph lunged forward, wrapping his arms around me with crushing force. “No! I don’t agree! You’re angry right now, you’re not thinking clearly. Let’s sit down and talk this through, please!” I shook my head, using every ounce of strength left in my body to push him away. “I have never been clearer in my entire life. Think it over. Don’t make me wait too long.” Without giving Hazel a single glance, I walked out the door. I walked endlessly down the street until the streetlights grew sparse and the night grew pitch black. Only then did I allow my tears to fall. Ripping out eight years of deep love from your heart was never going to be easy. Suddenly, crude voices echoed from behind me. “Hey sweetheart, why is a pretty girl walking alone crying in the middle of the night?” I turned around. Three men stepped out from the shadows of an alleyway. Cigarettes dangled from their lips, smelling of cheap liquor and stale smoke. I looked around. There wasn’t a street sign or a soul in sight. Panic surged in my chest. One of the men stepped close, his greasy eyes scanning my body greedily. “Got dumped? Why don’t you let us take real good care of you?” A rough, calloused hand reached out to grab my shoulder. I lifted my leg with all my strength, kicking hard into his groin. He let out a muffled curse and swung his palm flat against the side of my face. A loud crack echoed, and my ears began ringing violently. Everything went white. In the middle of the chaos, a familiar figure charged out of the dark. Ralph ripped the man off me, throwing a heavy fist straight into his face. He knocked the other two to the ground in a frantic brawl. Realizing they were outmatched, the three men cursed loudly and scrambled away into the night. “You’re safe now, babe! I’m here, don’t be scared!” He wrapped his heavy jacket tightly around my trembling shoulders. I lifted my head, looking at the familiar face in front of me. The heart that had just died felt a tiny spark of life trying to ignite again. “Take me home,” I whispered. “Okay!” He held me tight, resting his chin on top of my head. Suddenly, his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. The name “Hazel” flashed across the screen. He hesitated for a brief second before hitting answer. “Ralph… where are you? It hurts so much… I can’t remember how many pills I took…” When he hung up, a deeply conflicted expression covered his face. I pulled myself out of his arms, feeling the last ember in my heart freeze into solid ice. “Babe, I called emergency services, the police will be here soon. Hazel’s having a crisis, I need to…” “Just go,” I interrupted him, handing his jacket back. A few minutes later, his rushed footsteps faded into the distance. I pulled out my phone and typed a message to my senior manager, Gwen. “I accept the overseas transfer to the London office. As soon as possible.” Gwen called me back instantly. “Sierra, didn’t you tell me last week that you and Ralph were trying for a baby? Why the sudden transfer?” My heart was filled with bitter sorrow, unable to explain the mess. “Not anymore. We’re getting a divorce. I only have one condition, I’m bringing my mother with me.” Silence blanketed the line for a moment before Gwen spoke again. “If you’ve made up your mind, the company fully supports you. You can fly out tomorrow!” After hanging up, the police arrived. After taking my statement, they safely escorted me back home. The moment the front door locked behind me, I collapsed onto the couch. The apartment was cold and quiet. My chest felt utterly hollow. I picked up my phone to check the time, but my fingers compulsively opened my alt account to check Ralph’s social media feed. The moment I opened it, my throat felt constricted, making it hard to breathe. The feed I usually saw on my main account was boring and work-focused. Aside from a few company updates, there was never a single trace of me. Whenever I playfully asked him to post photos of us, he always said he disliked exposing his private life to the public. He said he didn’t want other men lusting over his beautiful wife. Back then, I thought it was sweet. Now, looking through the alt account, I saw a completely different reality. Every single post was filled with photo grids, packed with intimate photos of him and Hazel. One post stood out sharply. It was dated May 20th of this year, our third wedding anniversary. I had booked a high-end restaurant a week in advance. That morning, I texted him: “Leave work early tonight, I’ll be waiting for you at the restaurant.” He replied: “Sure thing, babe.” Followed by a string of kissing emojis. I sat at the restaurant table as the server poured cup after cup of water, but he never showed up. At ten that night, he sent a text: “The new product launch is hitting a glitch, everyone has to stay late at the office. Don’t wait up for me, babe!” I ordered a single dinner set, brought home his favorite spicy poached fish, and waited. When he arrived home past midnight, his exhausted eyes lit up seeing the fish on the dining table. “Thank you, babe!” Yet on that exact same night, his alt feed showed two movie tickets. It was for a romantic film I had been dying to see for months. And the tickets were for love seats. My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. Valentine’s Day, my birthday, his birthday… Every single milestone was spent with Hazel. I closed the app and closed my eyes. The apartment was silent, save for the ticking of the clock. I didn’t want to know how many more lies were buried beneath the surface. This marriage was beyond saving. I picked up my phone again and sent a text to Attorney Ross. “Please draft a divorce agreement for me.” Sent. I began packing my things. Three years of marriage, eight years of love, couldn’t even fill a single twenty-eight-inch suitcase. When I woke up the next morning, I reached out out of habit to touch the other side of the bed. It was cold and empty. Ralph hadn’t come home all night. I wheeled my suitcase to the entryway to change my shoes. The front door swung open. Ralph stepped inside, holding a paper bag containing fresh soy milk and pan-fried beef buns. They were from my favorite breakfast spot, the one that always had a line wrapped around the block. He froze seeing my suitcase. “You’re leaving for a business trip this early? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have driven you.” I ignored him, pulling my sneakers on. He rushed forward, pulling me into a tight, apologetic hug. “Babe, don’t be mad anymore. Eat breakfast first, or your stomach is going to hurt again.” He held out the bag. I didn’t reach for it. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air as he explained helplessly, “Hazel took too many pills last night. I had to rush her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. Once she gets better, I promise…” “I’m leaving,” I cut him off, unwilling to hear another word. I stepped out the door and pressed the elevator call button. He chased after me. “Babe, don’t make an impulsive decision! I’ll wait for you to come back!” The elevator doors slid shut. I let out a cold laugh in the privacy of the metal box. No. I was never coming back. The transfer paperwork went smoothly. After saying goodbye to my colleagues, I walked out of the office building and headed straight to my mother’s apartment complex. Just as my mother and I stepped out of her building, a crowd of angry people suddenly rushed out from the shadows, surrounding us tightly. My mother stumbled back in fear, nearly falling over. I quickly held her steady and shouted, “What are you doing? Move out of the way!” A girl wearing glasses shoved her phone right into my face, her voice dripping with righteous fury. “Everyone look! This is the disgusting mistress who stole her best friend’s husband!” She grew more animated, pointing the camera straight at my mother’s face. “And this is her mother! Anyone who raises such a shameless daughter must have been a homewrecker herself!” Fury exploded in my chest. I reached out and slapped the phone out of her hand, sending it crashing onto the pavement. She froze for a second before lunging forward, shoving me violently. “You dare lay a hand on me? You stole someone’s husband and pushed the real wife into the ER, how do you even have the nerve to be alive?” I was completely bewildered. “I am not a mistress! You have the wrong person!” “Not a mistress?” Another woman shoved a phone screen against my eyes. “Open your eyes and look closely!” I caught a glimpse of a viral online post. The headline read: [VIRAL DRAMA! Taxi driver witnesses cheating confrontation! This mistress is out of her mind!] The post, written from the driver’s perspective, detailed how he drove the “original wife” to catch the husband in the act. It claimed the mistress was so arrogant that she humiliated the wife, pushing her into severe shock and landing her in the ER. Attached were two photos. The first showed three people arguing heatedly. The second showed a woman being wheeled into the emergency room while a man hovered beside her anxiously. In the photos, Hazel’s and Ralph’s faces were heavily blurred. My face, however, was in crystal-clear focus. “You have the wrong person!” I yelled at the crowd, holding up my ID. “I am the wife in that post! I have a marriage certificate to prove it!” “Still lying?” A heavy-set woman barked. “Why would the mistress be blurred while the wife’s face is shown? Who knows if your marriage certificate is fake?” I tried to explain, but my voice was completely drowned out by the roaring mob. Suddenly, a plastic water bottle flew through the air, striking me hard across the forehead. I touched my forehead. My hand came away covered in warm blood. My mother threw her body over mine, crying out desperately, “Stop hitting her! Please! My daughter is innocent! You have the wrong person!” The crowd ignored her cries, pushing closer and closer. Suddenly, my mother clutched her chest, gasping violently for air. “Mom! Mom, what’s wrong?!” Finally, building security guards forced their way through the crowd. “Disperse! Clear out!” I grabbed a guard’s arm like a lifeline, sobbing hysterically. “Call an ambulance! Quick! My mother has a heart condition!” By the time Ralph arrived outside the resuscitation room, I was still sitting on the cold floor in shock. “Babe! I thought you went on a business trip? How did this happen? Who hurt you?” I lifted my head, looking at him through a blur of tears. “It was that online post! A mob attacked us! My mother is inside being resuscitated right now! Hazel was the one who posted it!” Ralph frowned, his grip on my hand slowly loosening. “Hazel couldn’t have posted it. She’s been in the hospital since last night.” “So what?” My eyes widened in disbelief. “You believe her over me? You think I made it up?” He didn’t answer, but his silence said everything. I wiped my tears and turned my back on him. “Get out. I don’t need you here.” He stayed crouched beside me, his voice carrying a desperate plea. “Sierra, things have spiraled out of control. The priority right now is to calm the internet storm down!” “How?” I asked coldly. “Go apologize to Hazel.” “What did you just say?!” I couldn’t believe my ears. His face flushed with impatience. “Just apologize publicly and clarify that the post is fake! Once the netizens lose interest, they’ll disperse. It’s for your own good, and for your mother’s good!” I let out a bitter laugh. “You’re doing this for Hazel!” Exposed, Ralph snapped. “Sierra, I’m doing this for you! If this scandal keeps growing, do you think your mother can handle it? She’s still in critical condition!” My head slowly dropped. He was right about one thing. My mother was hanging by a thread. She couldn’t take any more shock. Like a hollow shell stripped of its soul, I let Ralph lead me to Hazel’s hospital room. Ignoring the whispers from onlookers, I bowed my head toward the bed. “I am sorry. My handling of the situation caused you harm.” Hazel’s eyes turned red, and she reached out to grab my hand. I took a step back, looking at the man beside me. “Are you satisfied now?” He nodded. I turned and walked away. The moment I reached the emergency doors, a nurse ran out, her voice frantic. “Where were you? The patient went into sudden cardiac arrest! We spent forty minutes on CPR, but she just passed away.” My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor, crawling desperately toward my mother’s body. “Mom! Don’t leave me alone! Please, I’m begging you!” I screamed until my voice blew out, but no response ever came. There was nothing left in this city for me. Two hours later, holding the urn containing my mother’s ashes, I boarded a flight to London. Before boarding, my phone chimed with a notification. [Dear customer, your delivered package containing the divorce agreement has been signed.] I blocked both of their numbers and walked through the terminal gate without looking back once. When the plane touched down, my screen lit up with ninety-nine missed calls.

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After successfully redeeming the villainous male lead, I dutifully stepped aside for the original heroine as promised. I took a new identity and left, but in less than twenty-four hours, he saw right through me. The System waved its hand dismissively: “Don’t panic. If he figures it out, I’ll just forge another identity for you.” So, over the following year, I was forced to roleplay as a personal chef, a maid, a circus monkey, a barber, a baker, and a spicy noodle vendor. Yet every single time, he recognized me in a split second, dragged me back to his mansion, and threw me into a whirlwind of relentless passion. The last time, Dante kissed my fingers, his voice raspy: “Done playing cosplay? Tomorrow, we’re getting our marriage license.” I froze, staring at the ring on my finger, silent. But the System reached its absolute limit: “Screw this! I refuse to lose. This time, I’m wiping his memories completely. There’s no way he’ll recognize you now.” “And I’ll implant fake memories that the original heroine is his fiancée, and that he’s been deeply in love with her for years…” Sure enough, when we met again… The man who had proposed to me just days ago didn’t even spare me a glance. He brushed past me with a cold, detached expression: “Pardon me, miss. Excuse me.” 01 After more than two hundred failed attempts, the System finally stopped obsessing over creating disguise after disguise for me. Instead, it shifted its focus entirely onto Dante. And declared with absolute confidence: “Host, I guarantee you, this time the male lead won’t just casually recognize you like before.” Sigh. My ears were practically growing calluses from hearing that exact promise. I let out an indifferent yawn. Over the past few years, under the System’s forced maneuvers, I had tried selling treadmills to eighty-year-olds in underground malls, serving artificial street food to college students, and even playing a hoop-jumping circus monkey. Every single time, the System had guaranteed success in that exact same tone. And every single time, before the ink could even dry on its promise, Dante would show up with a squad of bodyguards. That lunatic needed just one glance to tear away my disguise, drag me back, and flip me over and over in bed until my back was nearly broken. Last time, it took Dante two days to track me down and expose me. That was one day faster than the time before. I wondered if he would be even faster this time… A strange, subtle flicker of anticipation rose in my chest. Seeing me silent, the System patiently explained: “This time is genuinely different. Host, I brought you to this banquet today just to show you…” Before it could finish, the bustling chatter in the grand ballroom died down. The clinking of wine glasses ceased. People turned their heads, whispering as everyone’s gaze gravitated toward the entrance. A big shot had arrived. Pushed back by the crowding guests, my high heels nearly caught on my dress hem. I stumbled two steps before stabilizing myself. I looked up and locked eyes with a familiar, breathtakingly handsome face. Dante wore a charcoal-gray shirt today. Broad shoulders filled out the tailored fabric, tapering into a sharp, narrow waist. Tall, strikingly handsome, draped in an air of noble detachment, he commanded the room effortlessly. Way too handsome. I swallowed ungracefully. My eyes shifted, catching the woman pressed closely to his side. Beside Dante stood a stunning woman I had never seen before. I froze. She beamed, Dante’s suit jacket draped over her shoulders, her fingers delicately touching his firm forearm. Dante loathed being touched by anyone. Yet now, his expression remained cool and indifferent, showing not a hint of resistance to her touch. Maybe the air conditioning was blasting too hard, but a sudden wave of cold washed over me. Chills seeped through my bones, freezing me in place. 02 The System breathed a huge sigh of relief: “It worked! That woman beside him is the original heroine, Serena.” “Host, I wiped every single memory of you from his mind, and implanted new memories that she’s his fiancée and that they’ve been madly in love for years. He only has eyes for her now, so he definitely won’t recognize you.” I was stunned. “The heroine…?” “Of course! This is a romance novel. Naturally, there’s a male lead and a female lead!” Ever since the System dumped me beside Dante, the freezing cold, hunger, and endless lonely wandering of my past had been kept at bay. Life had been so peaceful that I forgot Dante was the male protagonist. The System added casually: “As the male lead, he has a destined female lead. That’s an unshakeable law. What are you even moping about, Host?” I stayed silent for a long time, forcing a stiff tug at the corner of my mouth. “Is that so? Well… that’s wonderful. The mission is finally over. Congratulations…” The System nodded repeatedly: “Yes! This task took way too long and completely derailed from the original script. Dante actually wanted to marry you! A male lead marrying an NPC, was he insane?” I didn’t reply. Lowering my head, I slowly uncurled my palm. A ring rested in my hand. Under the chandelier, the large solitaire diamond caught the light. Inside the band, our names were clearly engraved. That night, when Dante exposed my disguise yet again, he pinned me to the bed. Just as I was on the verge of passing out, a cool band slid down my ring finger, fitting perfectly. Dazed, I raised my hand, nearly blinded by the diamond. Before I could react, Dante pinned my hand down, kissing my forehead softly, his voice trembling: “Sierra… will you give me a chance to give you a home?” I was an orphan. I had never seen my parents. “Home” was a foreign word in my memory. I had doubted countless times if I even deserved one. My lips trembled as I stared at his moving lips until my vision blurred. Unfortunately, before Dante could hear my answer, the System forcibly pulled me out. [NPC emotional anomaly detected. Pulling Host out in 3, 2, 1…] 03 Applause broke my thoughts. On stage, Dante was guiding Serena up, his hand resting lightly against her waist in a familiar, gentle posture. Serena offered him a sweet smile. Infected by her smile, Dante let the corners of his lips curve up slightly, a soft layer of warmth surfacing in his dark eyes. One cold, one radiant, matching seamlessly. Truly a match made in heaven. My mind went blank. Suddenly, Serena turned her head, her gaze landing directly on me. She paused, hooked her finger playfully through Dante’s cuff, and raised her eyebrows at me. Dante took the microphone, his voice crisp and steady through the speakers: “I am Dante, and this is my fiancée, Serena. Seven years ago, when I had nothing, Serena stayed by my side without hesitation. She even injured her arm saving me, leaving a scar on her wrist that hasn’t faded.” Injured her arm saving Dante… I lowered my eyes, pulling my sleeve down firmly to hide the long scar on my wrist. Seven years ago, I was working a summer job at a barbecue place. When the System found me, my delivery time was about to expire, and I was riding my scooter at breakneck speed. Seeing me unbothered, the System said: “Don’t you want to save Spud?” I froze. Spud was a stray cat I adopted when I was ten. People in the alley joked that we were an orphaned kid and an orphaned stray. But I refused that label. My cat wasn’t an orphan. I knew that to Spud, I was his entire world. Even when illness left him too weak to eat, he dragged out his last breath, refusing to close his eyes because cats know humans fear loneliness. The System enticed me: it would cure Spud’s terminal illness if I went to a newly adult teenager named Dante, the world’s male lead who had veered off course, filled with dark resentment and suicidal thoughts, causing the storyline to collapse. My task was simply to keep him alive. So, when Dante held a razor against his wrist seven years ago, I crashed down from the sky right in front of him, completely derailing his self-destruction. Seven years later, that long scar on my wrist throbbed with a faint, phantom pain. I sighed softly, rubbing it with cold fingers to ease the ache, but it was useless. 04 The System whispered: “Sorry, Host. I took the things that happened between you and the male lead and assigned them to the female lead instead.” I didn’t look up, forcing my tone to sound casual: “It’s fine. They’re the ones meant to be together anyway…” The System praised me: “Exactly! They’re a match made in heaven.” On stage, Dante spoke while gazing down at Serena, his eyes dark and calm. Suddenly, he paused mid-sentence. Time ticked by until someone whispered below: “The ring… the ring…” Dante snapped back to reality. Hesitating, he opened a velvet box. Inside lay a ring. A massive diamond solitaire, engraved with letters inside the band. It was identical to the ring sitting in my palm. My breath hitched. I squeezed the ring in my hand tightly, the diamond’s sharp edge digging into my flesh, pain radiating straight to my heart. Stupid Dante. Such a wealthy CEO, and he couldn’t even buy a different ring for his proposal. Cheap jerk. I blinked hard. The System noticed: “Host, are you… crying?” I shook my head violently: “No, just got dust in my eye. Why would I cry? Don’t be ridiculous…” The System sighed: “Alright.” “System.” “Yes, Host?” “Why doesn’t this cake taste sweet at all?” “What did you say?” I shook my head, chewing the cake forcefully. A few seconds later, heavy tears dripped onto the back of my hand. I scrambled to pull tissues from my bag, my hands shaking so violently I couldn’t pull one out. Someone nearby stared. I kept my head down. What are you looking at? Never seen a leaky faucet before? 05 Prompted by the crowd, Dante pinched the ring. Serena raised her hand, a soft blush dusting her cheeks. Just as the ring was about to slide onto her finger, Dante’s eyelashes fluttered. The ring slipped from his fingers with a metallic clink, bouncing across the marble floor and rolling out of sight. Everyone froze. Dante cleared his throat, sounding apologetic: “Sorry, my hands slipped because I was nervous. Could everyone help me look for it?” The guests bent down to scan the marble floor. Serena stepped forward to comfort him: “It’s okay, Dante, we’ll find it.” Dante stood motionless, his calm gaze searching the room, his fists clenched tightly at his side. The System whispered in my ear: “Host, let’s leave.” I bit my lip, taking one last look at Dante. “Okay.” As I stepped out the doors, the ballroom erupted in noise again. Looks like they found the ring. People were chanting for them to kiss. I paused, tempted to turn back, but the System interrupted: “Host, the mission is complete. I’m leaving now. By the way, Spud’s illness is fully cured. You’ll see him when you get home.” Knowing Spud was healthy and waiting for me cheered me up a bit. I didn’t turn back. “Okay. Thank you.”

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1 When I was eight years old, I made a deal with a demon. I traded away my own lifespan to save my sister, who was dying of leukemia. But nobody knew. My parents always told me that Vivian’s days on earth were numbered. They told me I had to love her, protect her, and make sure she lived without a single regret. “Hope, Vivian loves both of these plushies. Just let her have them. Dad will buy you something else next time.” “Hope, Vivian… she really likes William too. Can you just… step aside for her?” “Hope, your sister is literally dying. Why are you still fighting with her?” Toys. My parents’ affection. The love of my life. I surrendered everything to Vivian for my entire life. They always told me I had plenty of time left. They promised that after Vivian passed away, they would spend the rest of their lives making it up to me. But I did not have much time left either. At the age of thirty-two, my sister passed away on her hospital bed with a peaceful smile on her face. She left this world with zero regrets. At that exact same moment, huddled on a freezing bench in the corner of the hospital courtyard, my breathing quietly came to a stop. “…William, Vivian’s body is rejecting the new experimental drugs. She threw up the oatmeal the second she swallowed it.” My mother’s frantic voice echoed through the phone speaker. William immediately understood. “I will be right there.” I sat at the dining table, watching him abruptly stand up and grab his winter coat. Whenever Vivian was in pain, she cried for our dad, she cried for our mom, and she cried for my boyfriend. She never cried for me. At first, when my mother wanted William to visit, she would call me to ask him. But somewhere along the line, they completely bypassed me, the useless middleman, and started contacting him directly. “Do you really have to go?” I asked softly. William paused at the front door. His tone grew heavy. “Hope, your sister is in critical condition. Try to be a little more mature about this.” Perhaps realizing his words were too harsh, his voice softened. “Just be a good girl. Once… once all of this is over, I promise I will stay by your side and make it up to you.” The front door clicked shut. I stared at the cooling dinner on the table and sat in absolute silence for a long time. Then, I pulled out my phone and tapped into a very familiar livestream channel. Vivian’s radiant, smiling face popped onto the screen. “Ta-da! Welcome to day twelve thousand and nine of Vivian kicking cancer’s butt! I ate eight meals today, but I am still starving because I threw up seven of them! Haha!” Vivian looked deathly pale, but her spirit was incredibly vibrant. She wore a knit beanie, with faint patches of thin hair peeking out from the edges. She was happily sharing her daily updates with her thousands of followers. My parents sat on either side of her, looking at her with nothing but absolute, tender devotion. The live chat was moving at lightspeed. “Keep fighting, Vivian! You are going to beat this!” “Omg, I am crying. Her parents’ love is the best medicine!” “I am fighting cancer too, and seeing your positivity every day seriously makes my pain go away.” “Wait, the whole family is on screen today. Does that mean the person holding the camera is the boyfriend?” Right on cue, Vivian looked up and reached her hand toward the camera with a brilliant smile. “Come here, William. The tripod is stable. You do not need to hold it.” William’s tall frame stepped into the frame. He indulgently offered her his hand, letting Vivian pull him into a hug and playfully shake his arm like a spoiled child. The chat exploded with hearts. “Ahhh! No wonder she is so happy today, her eyes are literally sparkling! The boyfriend is visiting!” “William is such a simp for her! He looks so professional and serious, but he lets her completely mess with him. They are totally couple goals!” Vivian’s smile deepened. Through the digital screen, our eyes met. I was watching. And she knew it. She always knew. Vivian and I were twins. But I was born perfectly healthy, screaming at the top of my lungs, while Vivian was sickly and frail, as tiny as a stray kitten. When we were barely a month old, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Unfortunately, we were fraternal twins. My bone marrow was not a match. From that day on, my parents poured every ounce of their soul and attention into Vivian. They named me Hope, meaning I was supposed to hope and pray for my sister’s survival. They named her Vivian, hoping she would be full of vibrant life. They told me my sole purpose was to pray for her health, while Vivian’s only job was to survive. I was just a babbling infant chewing on my fingers. I had no idea I was carrying such a crushing burden from the moment I took my first breath. Growing up, I had to yield to Vivian in every single aspect of life. Just like my name, I existed entirely for her sake. When relatives brought gifts for twins, they usually bought two identical toys to prevent fighting. But my parents always bought two different ones and let Vivian pick first. I only got whatever she rejected. If she liked both, I got absolutely nothing. When we started elementary school, my parents practically begged the principal to put us in the same class so I could act as her personal caretaker. My backpack was stuffed with her pill bottles and thermos, leaving barely any room for my own books. My mother would kneel down and lecture me sternly. “Keep a close eye on your sister. Do not let her run or jump. If any nasty boys try to bully her, you have to protect her.” I wanted to tell her that no one would ever bully Vivian. The teachers told the whole class that Vivian was very sick and needed to be treated like glass. The other parents sighed and talked about how pitiful the poor, beautiful girl was. Vivian instantly became the precious princess of the entire school. During recess, kids crowded around her desk, racking their brains to make the fragile, pretty girl laugh. And they quickly figured out that Vivian only smiled her brightest when I was being humiliated. So, my water bottle was suddenly filled with chalk dust. My textbooks and uniform were stained with permanent ink. My desk drawer magically spawned dead bugs and rotting garbage. My mother would aggressively shove my ruined clothes into the washing machine. “Hope, you are a little girl! Why are you always so filthy? You are nothing like your sister. She is so clean and elegant.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “Mom, the kids at school are bullying me.” My mother frowned and turned to Vivian. “Vivian, is that true?” Vivian held up a sparkly hair clip a boy had just gifted her, blinking in innocent surprise. “No way! Everyone at school is so nice!” My mother slapped my shoulder. “Liar! If you keep making up stories for attention, you are not getting any presents next time!” I felt so incredibly wronged. I had not received a new present in years. Every time Dad brought something home, Vivian would look at it with wide, hesitant eyes, touching everything, unable to let anything go. And Dad would always say, “Hope, just let Vivian have it. Dad will buy you something else next time.” But “next time” never came. The bullying at school, my mother’s absolute distrust, my father’s neglect, and Vivian’s quiet tyranny left me sobbing into my pillow night after night. One day, exhausted and with swollen eyes, I accidentally handed my water bottle to Vivian. I did not know some boys had dumped crushed chalk into it again. Vivian took a sip, started coughing violently, and was rushed to the hospital. My mother, eyes red with fury, slapped me so hard my ears rang. “Hope! Just because your sister refused to cover up your lies, you actually tried to kill her!” I cried hysterically. “I did not put that in there! I swear it was an accident!” Nobody listened to my defense. My parents hovered over Vivian’s hospital bed, showering her with frantic affection. Through the gap between my parents’ shoulders, Vivian looked at my tear-streaked face. She smiled brilliantly, but her eyes were swirling with dark, concentrated hatred. She hated me. And that hatred peaked when we were eight years old. When we were eight, Vivian’s cancer relapsed aggressively. The doctors pulled my parents into the hallway and told them she would likely not live to see eighteen. While my parents sobbed outside, Vivian lay on the bed, weak and feverish, and whispered, “Hope, I want to live.” My heart ached. She was my sister. I wanted her to live too. Right at that moment, a man materialized in the center of the hospital room. His lips and eyes were stained pitch black, and massive bat-like wings folded behind his back. He introduced himself as a demon. He asked if I was willing to share my lifespan with my sister. Vivian’s eyes shot wide open. She stared at me, desperate and begging. I glared at the creature defensively. “The books say demons are evil!” The demon simply raised a brow, amused, but remained silent. Vivian panicked. She dragged her frail body out of the hospital bed, hyperventilating as she wildly clawed at my clothes. “Stop making excuses! You just do not want to save me!” “I want to live! Why won’t you save me?!” She cried so violently that the emotional overload caused her to pass out entirely. I was terrified. Watching her lips turn blue and her skin fade to a deathly gray, panic completely consumed me. The demon chuckled softly. “Oh my, what a tragedy. She is dying right now. She will not even make it to eighteen.” I was so scared. I was scared the demon was tricking me and would eat my soul. I was scared of what would happen to me if my lifespan was ripped away. I was scared that if my sister died right in front of me, my parents would blame me forever. But mostly, I was terrified of watching my own twin sister die. She still wanted to see the flower fields. She still wanted to sing in the school talent show. So, I said yes to the demon. The demon told me that excluding my first eight years, I was destined to live for another seventy-two years. He would take one-third of those remaining years as his payment, and transfer another third into Vivian’s body. I counted on my small fingers. That meant I was only going to live to be thirty-two. It felt so incredibly far away. I could not even imagine what I would look like twenty years from now. But it also felt so short. My mother was thirty-three. That meant I would die before I even reached my mother’s current age. The demon extracted two glowing golden orbs from my chest. He took a deep breath, swallowed one orb, and let out a satisfied sigh. Then, he pushed the remaining golden light into Vivian’s chest. The color returned to her cheeks almost instantly. When my parents rushed back into the room, Vivian woke up. The second she saw me, she started screaming hysterically. But the demon had already placed a temporary hex on our voices. She shrieked and babbled, but could not form a single coherent word about the deal. The sheer terror of almost dying, combined with her deep-seated resentment toward me, drove her completely insane. She pointed a shaking finger at me and desperately mouthed lies to our parents. “It was Hope! Hope hit me! She bullied me! She wants me dead!” My parents were horrified. Initially, they might have doubted it, but Vivian’s tears were so tragic and desperate. My mother cried in heartbreak. My father dragged me out of the room by my collar, kicked the back of my knees, and forced me to stand in the freezing hospital corridor. “Think about what you have done! Do not even think about coming back inside until you confess!” I stood shivering in the hallway until past midnight. Only after they had fully coaxed Vivian to sleep did they drag me back in. Under their terrifying, disgusted glares, I sobbed and swore that I would always protect my sister and never hurt her again. From that day on, Vivian found her ultimate outlet. She constantly invented new ways to frame me, running to our parents to complain just so they would punish me. And my parents never doubted her for a second. In their eyes, Vivian would always be the little angel covered in IV tubes, who fought for every breath but still smiled and said she was not in pain. The way my parents looked at me shifted from anger, to disgust, and finally, to utter apathy. Vivian always hated me. Especially on those nights when she lay in bed, swallowing handfuls of pills, in so much agony she could not sleep. She thought that after she passed out that day, I had cold-bloodedly rejected the demon. But the demon had been very clear from the start. He was exchanging lifespan, not health. Even though she would spend her life chronically ill, and I would spend mine perfectly healthy… We were both going to die at the exact same moment.

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Rowan Pierce despised inconvenience. From something as trivial as picking up my iced latte on his way home. To something as vital as reviewing my resume before a major job interview. He always acted like I was asking for the moon. But when it came to my younger sister. He could spend four grueling hours carrying her shopping bags around the mall. He could stay up for three consecutive nights mapping out her entire career trajectory. Until one night, during a massive torrential downpour. I was stranded under a leaking bus shelter. I called Rowan, begging him to come pick me up. He was only three blocks away. “It is completely out of my way. Stop being so difficult.” He rejected me, just like always. Yet he immediately turned his car around and drove ten miles in the opposite direction to drop my sister off at her apartment. Sometime later. Rowan went on a business trip and sent me a text message: [I am heading back soon. What kind of gift do you want?] I did not jump for joy. I did not text back a string of excited emojis. I simply typed out a polite refusal: [No need. It is too much of a hassle for you. Thanks anyway.] 01 Maybe he had never seen me use such a detached, formal tone before. The very next second. My phone rang. It was Rowan. “Didn’t you mention you wanted that limited-edition skincare set? You asked me to bring it back for you.” His voice was as cold and crisp as ever. It didn’t sound like he was offering a gift. It sounded like he was interrogating a suspect. That skincare set was a conversation from months ago. It had been sold out everywhere. The only place you could get it was the flagship store in the city he was currently visiting for work. I had brought it up a few times before he left. But every single time, he would just furrow his brow in deep annoyance. “I am going there to close a deal, Audrey. Not to act as your personal shopper.” “But you could just grab it on your way back to the hotel.” “It is not on the way. It is an inconvenience.” His excuses were always the same. Always an inconvenience. Hearing him suddenly bring it up now meant he had remembered all along. I suppose I should have felt a thrill of happiness. But maybe the fever burning through my veins had numbed my emotions. Or maybe it was because I had already paid a personal shopper double the retail price to ship that exact set to my apartment three days ago. Right now. My heart felt entirely hollow. I let out a soft “hmm” of acknowledgment. My answer echoed the text I had just sent him. “I already bought it myself. Don’t worry about it. I won’t trouble you.” Rowan fell utterly silent for two long seconds. I stayed silent, too. Because of my answer. The atmosphere between us over the cellular line twisted into something bizarrely quiet. “Audrey…” It sounded like Rowan wanted to say something else. But right at that exact moment. A bright, bubbly voice echoed in the background of his call: “Ro! Come here and look at this! Does this necklace look pretty on me?” “…” I didn’t launch into a jealous interrogation about who that voice belonged to. I used to. Not anymore. Realizing I had absolutely nothing left to say to him. I tactfully took the hint. “I have things to do. I am going to hang up now.” 02 My phone call with Rowan lasted exactly one minute and thirty-eight seconds. Thank god. It didn’t cross the three-minute mark. Otherwise, Rowan would have lectured me about wasting his precious time again. It couldn’t be helped. Rowan was a certified genius. And a genius’s time operated on a completely different currency than the rest of us normal people. Back when we were in high school. While everyone else was goofing off during summer break. He was counting every second, buried in advanced calculus and SAT prep. In the ten minutes between classes. He could finish half a practice exam. In his spare time, he dominated every academic decathlon and robotics competition in the state. Bringing home shiny medals and prestigious trophies for the school. He optimized his time to an absolute extreme. Every single minute was a commodity. Because of this, Rowan harbored a deep-seated resentment for anyone who wasted his time on trivial, mundane things. Especially me. Even though I was his girlfriend. During our dates. If I asked him to grab me a coffee on his way out of the lab. He would calculate that the five minutes spent waiting in line at the cafe could have been used to recalculate his data models. When I asked him to review my resume after college, he just glanced at it and sighed. “Your formatting is a chaotic mess, Audrey. There is nothing salvageable here.” “…” Well… That was exactly why I needed his help in the first place. But… Rowan just found it exhausting. I always felt like Rowan was the human embodiment of a perfectly coded algorithm. Every word, every action, flawlessly executed. He was like a high-voltage fence. Any attempt to cross his boundaries was strictly forbidden. So, in our daily lives. We always maintained this bizarre, invisible distance. Only in the dead of night, tangled in the sheets, did I ever see him lose even a fraction of his iron-clad control. But later, I finally figured it out. He wasn’t a man who hated trouble. He just hated it when the trouble came from me. 03 After I hung up, my screen lit up with two new texts from Rowan. [That was Michelle just now.] [Are you absolutely sure you don’t want anything?] The first text was an unsolicited explanation for the female voice. The second was a rare double-check on a request I had already denied. How incredibly strange. Rowan Pierce never asked twice once he got a ‘no’. I had no idea what glitch had infected his system. But staring at that first message. I couldn’t help but zone out. If there was one person on this entire planet who could make Rowan sacrifice his invaluable time? It was her. My younger sister, Michelle. She was the golden child of our family. Gorgeous, bratty, wildly vibrant, and totally uninhibited. She could be an absolute menace, yet somehow, she always managed to make people want to protect her. My mother abandoned a decade-long career just to be a stay-at-home mom for Michelle. My father drained his secret savings account just to buy Michelle an outrageously expensive designer gown for her eighteenth birthday. And even Rowan. When Michelle was throwing a tantrum. He would patiently carry her bags through endless department stores for four hours straight. When she was having a meltdown over the brutal job market. He would work late at the office, then pull an all-nighter to completely revamp her resume. He mapped out her five-year career plan and then effortlessly handed her an assistant position at his own tech firm. I used to be so confused. I was jealous. I was furious. I screamed, I cried, I acted like a total lunatic. But none of it made a single dent. Sometimes you just have to swallow the bitter pill and admit the truth. Some people just have to stand there and breathe. And the whole world will love them, effortlessly offering up the very things you would have to bleed to get. 04 I didn’t reply to Rowan’s texts. Once the IV bag was empty. I walked out of the sterile hospital lobby. The nurse had strictly ordered me to stay in bed for the next two days. She warned me the fever could easily spike again. “You really need someone to keep an eye on you at home. Where is your boyfriend? Or your folks?” Rowan… Rowan was on a business trip. As for my parents… Never mind. I wasn’t going to burden them. “I can manage on my own.” I called in sick and took two days off from work. I spent those forty-eight hours lying in bed in a hazy, feverish fever dream. My phone buzzed a few times. I didn’t bother checking the screen. Two days later, my chest finally felt lighter. The sickness was lifting. I unlocked my phone. Rowan’s pinned chat was flooded with unread messages. [Audrey, why aren’t you replying?] [What is going on with you? Audrey, pick up the phone.] And the final message read: [My flight lands on Sunday.] I stared at the screen. Then, I unpinned his chat from the top of my inbox. I noticed a missed voice call from my mother and dialed her back. “What’s up?” “Audrey, honey, Rowan said he couldn’t get a hold of you. He asked me to check in.” “I am fine. I have just been swamped with work the past couple of days.” “Oh, right, right. Well… when are you going to come home for dinner?” Ever since my sophomore year of college, when I started paying my own rent. I had moved out of that house and practically never looked back. I rarely visited. Not until I started dating Rowan and had to bring him over for the official ‘meet the parents’ dinner. I don’t know if guilt had finally caught up with my parents or what. But after I graduated. They suddenly started reaching out to the invisible older daughter they had spent a lifetime ignoring. “Saturday works. I am free then.” “Wonderful! What are you craving? I will cook whatever you want.” “Just something light.” My stomach was still recovering from the fever. I didn’t have much of an appetite. My mom happily agreed. But when Saturday rolled around. I didn’t just see my parents. I walked into the living room and saw Rowan and Michelle. 05 The man who specifically told me he was landing on Sunday. Was currently sitting on my parents’ velvet sofa, laughing and playing chess with my father. Michelle was curled up on the armchair next to them. Every few minutes, she would playfully snatch a chess piece to cheat for my dad. Eliciting fond, exasperated headshakes from both men. As for my mother. She was hovering around the dining room table, arranging the silverware. Occasionally, she would look up, her eyes melting into absolute adoration as she watched the three of them in the living room. The house smelled like rich, spicy Cajun butter and roasted garlic. The warm, golden glow of the chandelier bathed the entire scene in perfection. It was a picture-perfect, sickeningly sweet family portrait. I stood in the doorway, gripping my tote bag. Frozen. Unable to step forward, unable to back away. It reminded me of the first time I brought Rowan home for dinner. This exact scene had played out before. Back then, we had been stuck in traffic and arrived twenty minutes late. Rowan had walked in carrying an expensive bottle of wine. My mom had rushed over to the foyer, asking: “Did you guys hit rush hour?” “Yeah, traffic was crawling,” Rowan replied. Before I could even take my coat off, Michelle came flying down the oak staircase like a tornado. “Ro! You made it! Did you bring my iced matcha?” She fluttered around him like a hyperactive butterfly. Rowan let out a soft, amused sigh and handed her the sweaty plastic cup. “Getting your ridiculous drink is the exact reason we hit traffic in the first place.” Rowan wasn’t lying. The phone call inviting us to dinner had actually been made by Michelle. “Oh, by the way, when you drive over, stop at that cafe downtown and get me an iced matcha. Extra ice, three pumps of vanilla.” She had ordered him around like a servant. Rowan hadn’t even hesitated. Though he did frown softly, remembering a detail I didn’t even know. “Aren’t your cramps supposed to start soon? You shouldn’t be drinking ice.” Through the phone, Michelle had scoffed like a spoiled brat. “Fine, no ice then. Just make sure you bring it!” “Got it.” And so, when we left his apartment. Rowan had driven completely out of his way, hitting three extra red lights. Just to get Michelle her customized drink. Back in the present memory, Michelle stuck her tongue out at him. She grabbed the drink and immediately tugged on his sleeve. “I am stuck on this marketing proposal. You have to come look at it right now.” Ever since Michelle got hired at Rowan’s firm. She practically acted like his shadow. Rowan laughed, shaking his head. “Did I come here to eat a home-cooked meal, or to do your homework for you?” “Oh, come on! It will literally take you five seconds.” She dragged him away toward the living room. My dad sat by the coffee table, sipping his bourbon, smiling proudly at the two of them. My mom turned back to the kitchen to check on the roast. And I had stood there, much like I was doing right now. Like a ghost. A transparent outsider completely walled off from their reality. I had walked through the front door right behind him. But I had just stood in the center of the foyer, utterly invisible. Unable to blend in. So I just stood there, drowning in my own awkward, pathetic isolation. 06 But this time. Someone noticed me almost immediately. “Audrey…” Rowan was reaching for his knight on the chessboard. When he casually glanced toward the entryway with a smile on his face. His eyes locked onto mine. He froze completely. Hearing his voice, everyone in the living room and the kitchen stopped what they were doing and looked over. My mom was the closest to the door. She jumped a little when she saw me. “Audrey? What are you doing here today?” “Didn’t you literally invite me over for dinner?” I threw the question right back at her. My mom went completely blank. Watching the utter confusion dawn in her eyes. I knew instantly that she had completely forgotten about the phone call she made to me. I knew it. A bitter, mocking smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Embarrassment flashed across my mom’s face. She rushed forward to take my bag, trying to cover her tracks. “Right, right, of course! So glad you made it. Come in, come in.” Maybe it was just my imagination. But the second my foot crossed the threshold. That warm, picturesque, sitcom-family atmosphere shattered entirely. I gave my dad a stiff nod. He grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes already drifting back to the chessboard. Rowan stood up and walked toward me. “Audrey…” He looked like he was bursting with things to say. He reached his hand out toward me, leaving it awkwardly suspended in mid-air. Michelle shot me a side-eye, then stood up and stretched dramatically. “Mom, is the food ready? I am literally starving to death.” “Yes, yes, it is all done! Go wash your hands.” At the dinner table, Michelle’s loud chatter masked the thick, suffocating tension in the room. “Mom, you have no idea what I had to survive on during that trip. Bland salads and dry sandwiches everywhere. It was a nightmare.” “I have been craving your spicy seafood boil for a whole week.” My mom looked at Michelle like she had just survived a war zone. “Then eat up, sweetheart. You look so thin.” She piled a mountain of crab legs and shrimp onto Michelle’s plate. Then, she glanced at me. Probably trying to overcompensate for the fact that she forgot I was coming. She grabbed a piece of spicy sausage and dropped it onto my plate. “Eat up, Audrey. You too.” “…” I stared at the piece of sausage, dripping in bright red chili oil. “Mom, I…” “Oh, wait! Mom, Dad! We bought you guys presents from the trip!” Michelle totally cut me off. She practically leaped out of her chair. She bolted over to her designer suitcase that was still sitting in the corner of the dining room. A minute later. She was pulling out sleek, expensive shopping bags. “This one is for Dad! And this one is for you, Mom!” “Oh, honey, you shouldn’t have! You were there for work, you didn’t need to spend your money on us.” My parents were chiding her, but their faces were absolutely glowing with pure joy. Michelle tilted her chin up, looking exceptionally smug. “I didn’t pick them out alone. Rowan and I spent hours looking for the perfect ones, didn’t we?” She looked over at Rowan. “…Yeah.” Rowan gave a stiff nod. My parents were practically glowing. They kept gushing about how thoughtful ‘their Rowan’ was. Not a single person at that table noticed that my plate was completely empty. Even though I had spent a lifetime getting used to this. Swallowing the air at that dinner table made my chest ache so badly, I thought my fever had come back. Otherwise, why would my throat feel so impossibly tight? 07 An hour later. The plates were cleared. Since Rowan and Michelle had just gotten off a plane and were exhausted. My mom didn’t try to force us to stay for dessert. She ushered Rowan and me out the door. Rowan and I walked side-by-side into the dim, echoing parking garage beneath my parents’ building. Right as I reached for the passenger door handle, Rowan grabbed my wrist. “Audrey, our flight got changed at the last minute. That is why we got back early. I was going to text you the second I dropped Michelle off.” He had brought Michelle straight to her parents’ place from the airport. He just hadn’t expected my mother to aggressively insist he stay for dinner. And he certainly hadn’t expected me to walk through that door today. Rowan finally managed to spit out the explanation he had been holding in all night. During the entire dinner. We hadn’t exchanged a single word or even made eye contact. Well, I hadn’t. Rowan had kept stealing nervous glances at me the entire time. Now, as he stood under the harsh fluorescent lights of the garage. His face was deadly serious. His dark eyes were locked intensely onto mine. The crazy part was: I didn’t feel a single thing. If this had happened a month ago. My chest would have been filled with heavy, suffocating cotton. I would have given him the silent treatment for three days straight out of pure resentment. “Okay. Got it.” I nodded calmly and slid into the passenger seat. Rowan froze. He clearly had not prepared himself for such a cold, indifferent reaction. His mouth opened, then closed again. It was obvious he had an entire speech locked and loaded. But normally, I was the one who had to pry the words out of his mouth. Now that I refused to engage. He had no idea how to keep the conversation alive. When we finally got back to his luxury apartment. Rowan followed me quietly through the front door. He had been on a plane for six hours. Dark circles were already forming under his eyes. “I am going to take a shower first.” He popped the latches on his suitcase, letting it fall open on the hardwood floor. Lying right on top of his neatly folded dress shirts was a lace bra. “…” Rowan went completely rigid. His eyes snapped up to look at me in pure panic. Right on cue. His phone buzzed. It was Michelle. “Ro! I think I left some of my lingerie in your suitcase because mine wouldn’t close…” Before she could finish her sentence. Rowan slammed his thumb onto the end call button. He looked at me, his voice tight. “Her suitcase was over the weight limit, so she had to…” It was always like this. I couldn’t even count how many times these ‘innocent accidents’ or ‘unavoidable situations’ had happened. All I knew was. Standing there looking at that lace bra. I suddenly lost every single ounce of desire to hear his excuses or pick a fight. “Just keep the water pressure down. I am going to bed.” I pulled my gaze away from his panicked face. I turned on my heel and walked up the stairs. Behind me, I could feel the weight of Rowan’s stare burning into my back for a very, very long time. 08 The next morning, I had to go to work. My rideshare was exactly two minutes away. I was rushing down the stairs when Rowan stepped into the hallway, physically blocking my path. “I made breakfast. Eat before you leave.” “I can’t. I am going to be late.” “I will drive you.” Rowan stated firmly. His tech firm and my office building were only three blocks apart. But there was a notoriously brutal traffic light in between that lasted a full two minutes. Rowan had always considered those two minutes a criminal waste of his time. So, in the two years we had lived together, he had never once offered to drop me off or pick me up. Hearing him suddenly volunteer. I hesitated for a split second. But I easily sidestepped his outstretched arm. “No, it is fine. I don’t want to inconvenience you. My Uber is literally pulling up outside.” Later that afternoon, right before five o’clock. Rowan sent me another text. [I am coming to pick you up.] I typed back immediately: [Working late tonight.] The little typing bubble on his end popped up and danced for a long time. But he never actually sent a reply. For the next few days, it was the exact same routine. It was so incredibly bizarre. Normally, after a quick breakfast in complete silence. We would go our separate ways at the front door. Or Rowan would leave first, already deep in a conference call. But now, Rowan was literally standing by the door, waiting to leave together. And to avoid being trapped in the suffocating confines of his car. I had started waking up thirty minutes earlier just to sneak out. But I knew this cat-and-mouse game wasn’t sustainable. Until my company sent me out to do a site inspection at a new commercial mall with my boss. And just my luck. I bumped right into Rowan.

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While out for lunch, a sudden stomach cramp forced me to step away to the restroom. When I returned to our table, my boyfriend and my best friend were already gone. I reached to call them, only to realize my phone was still sitting inside my purse. And my purse was right there on the chair. I had been sitting against the wall, with my boyfriend beside me and my best friend across from him. Neither of them had noticed my bag. Neither of them had noticed my half-eaten meal. This was not the first time it had happened, and a wave of deep exhaustion washed over me. 1 I did not grab my bag and chase after them like I used to. Instead, I sat back down in quiet solitude. Without the endless talk of software architecture, product metrics, and bug reports buzzing in my ears, I finally enjoyed a peaceful lunch. When I got back to the office, I did not go upstairs to complain to them either. I went straight to my workstation at the front desk. All three of us worked for the same tech firm. The difference was that my boyfriend, Derek, was the R&D Manager, a core pillar of the company. My best friend, Brooke, was a Senior Product Manager, one of the elite rise-stars. And I was just the front desk receptionist. They were bright and accomplished. Compared to them, I was little more than a pretty piece of office furniture. “Hey Paige, Derek and Brooke already went upstairs. Why didn’t you go with them?” my shift partner asked, looking at me curiously. In the past, I always went upstairs with them before the end of lunch break. We would drink coffee and chat in the breakroom. Though, it was mostly the two of them talking while I listened. They talked about work stuff I did not understand and could never join in on. “I am fine down here,” I replied casually. It was time I seriously considered whether this relationship was worth keeping. At three in the afternoon, my phone buzzed with a text message. [Hey Paige, are you back at your desk? Something urgent came up at work, so we had to rush back first.] I flipped my phone face down and did not reply. It was always like this. Urgent work matters, high-level discussions, things a simple receptionist supposedly could not grasp. At five o’clock sharp, I clocked out. I did not wait for them. They worked overtime constantly. In the past, I would ask what they wanted to eat, pick up the takeout, bring it upstairs, and keep them company late into the night. Even if they stayed till dawn, I stayed with them. Today, I bought groceries and went straight home. Not to Derek’s apartment, but to my parents’ house. My true home. “Paige is back! How come you have time today? Isn’t work busy?” My mother took the shopping bags from my hands and called out toward the kitchen. “Honey, stop reheating the leftovers! Paige is home, cook something fresh!” Listening to my father’s cheerful voice from the kitchen, I sank into the sofa. No making dinner for those two, no stressing over how late I would have to stay up, no worrying about missing my alarm the next morning. An unprecedented sense of relief filled my chest. Then a text notification ruined the peace. [Paige, Brooke wants that spicy Thai food from across the street. Grab a takeout order and bring it up to the fourth floor.] So he was not checking in on his girlfriend. He just realized his food delivery person was missing. A surge of annoyance hit me. [Order it yourselves. I went home.] It took thirty minutes for his reply to come through. [Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Brooke is starving. Fine, get some rest, don’t wait up for me.] Rare for him to send two texts in a row, though one was a guilt trip and the other was a brush-off. 2 At the dinner table, my parents kept piling food onto my plate. I caught myself staring at my dish, realizing I used to do the exact same thing for Derek. He used to do it for me too, at the beginning. But then a third person joined us. Brooke used to laugh at us, calling us sickeningly sweet. From then on, Derek never put food on my plate again. Putting down my fork, I took a deep breath. “Mom, Dad, I want to change jobs.” They both looked up at me. “Did something happen at work?” my mother asked softly. I stayed silent and shook my head. She studied my face carefully. “Did you and Derek have a fight?” I paused before speaking. “Mom, do you think… he and I are just not right for each other?” When Derek and I first started dating, my mother said that Derek had a great degree and a promising career, while I might not be as accomplished, but I was sweet, pretty, and good-natured. A balanced match. She seemed to guess what was going on. My father began clearing the dishes, giving my mother a subtle look. “Derek is a capable young man, Paige,” my mother said gently. “But it is your life. If you feel you cannot walk this path together anymore, taking a step back to clear your head is not a bad thing.” She was right. A step back was long overdue. I was never the sharpest student growing up, but I was blessed with good looks. That was the primary reason I was hired as the face of the company at the front desk. During a heavy rainstorm three years ago, Derek and I were stranded at the office late one night. That was how we met. He did not know who I was, but I knew him. He was a brilliant software engineer, and I heard people praise his talent constantly. When I first met him, he was quiet, a classic introverted tech guy. I pursued him first. Perhaps because of my looks, it only took a month of courting before we became an official couple. Over the three years we were together, Derek rose from a junior developer to R&D Manager, and the company even provided him with a corporate apartment. I remained at the front desk. As soon as he got the apartment, Derek insisted I move in with him. It was close to work, so I happily agreed. Not long after I moved in, Brooke reentered my life. She had just lost her job and came to the office to visit me, running into Derek in the lobby. Knowing she was my friend, Derek asked if she wanted to interview for an open position at our firm. Brooke was nothing like me. She was brilliant, picked up everything instantly, and held a degree from a top tier university. She passed the interview with flying colors. In no time, she was promoted to Senior Product Manager. I could not pinpoint when it started, but suddenly they had an endless stream of work topics to discuss. At first, I would pucker my lips and ask them not to talk about work during our dates. They were cooperative at first, raising their hands like school kids promising to stop. Yet whenever they sat together, the conversation drifted back to work automatically. Gradually, they forgot there was another human being sitting right beside them. The very next morning, I handed my resignation to HR. The HR manager told me the offboarding process would take a month. I nodded and agreed. At noon, Brooke and Derek walked toward the front desk together, laughing at an inside joke. “Paige, let’s go get Thai food across the street!” Brooke said warmly, linking her arm through mine like she always did. “We went last night after you left, and it was amazing. You have to try it.” I looked over at Derek. “I thought you couldn’t eat spicy food?” Derek rubbed the back of his neck, but before he could speak, Brooke chuckled. “He really can’t handle spice, but we can’t make everyone suffer just for his weak stomach, right?” Derek chimed in immediately. “Brooke is right. We shouldn’t avoid spicy food just because of me.” I loved spicy food. But because Derek disliked it, I had spent three years accommodating his palate, cooking bland meals every day. It turned out he did not mind accommodating someone else. I gently pulled my arm out of Brooke’s grip. “You two go ahead. I will pass.” 3 Brooke stopped smiling and reached out to touch my forehead with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” Derek stepped closer too, his eyes softening. “Where does it hurt?” I stepped back, putting physical distance between us. “I am completely fine. Go enjoy your lunch.” Brooke suddenly gave Derek a playful shove. “Oh, this is all your fault! I knew it! It’s because you kept talking about work during lunch yesterday. See? You made Paige upset again.” Derek put his hands up helplessly. “How was that my fault? You brought up the testing phase first!” “I was worried your engineering team wouldn’t meet the deadline!” “When has my team ever missed a deadline? If your product specs weren’t changing every five minutes, we would have shipped last week!” “Those specs came from my market research! Without my oversight, could you even launch on time? Instead of thanking me, you complain!” “Fine, fine, Manager Brooke is always right…” I turned around and walked away, refusing to listen to another word. I took three steps before Derek realized I was leaving. “Paige, don’t be like this!” Brooke ran up after me. “I’m sorry, Paige! It’s his fault for getting me worked up. I won’t talk about work anymore, I promise!” To prove her point, she zipped her lips with her fingers, wide-eyed and staring at Derek dramatically. Derek chuckled at her antics, then turned to me. “Paige, give it a rest. If you stay mad, Brooke is going to blame me all afternoon.” When I did not respond, a flash of annoyance crossed Derek’s face. “Honestly, I should be the one mad at you for walking out last night and running off to your mother’s house without a word,” he added, his voice hardening. “We were just talking about company projects. Why are you getting so petty lately?” “Enough,” I interrupted him. I turned around, looking at him with cold detachment, and uttered the words I had weighed all night. “Derek, let’s break up.” The moment the words left my mouth, even I felt a brief shock. I had not expected saying it to feel so simple, so liberating. Derek froze, caught off guard for a second, before breaking into a sudden chuckle. “Paige, stop playing around. That’s not funny at all.” “I am not joking.” “I am completely serious. You should take time to process it.” Brooke had tried to jump in when I first said the word breakup. Seeing my stony expression now, she could no longer hold back. “Paige, please don’t be mad!” she pleaded, reaching out for my hand. “It’s really not a big deal, just take a deep breath…” I dodged her hand cleanly. “I am not mad, and I am completely calm. I mean every word. Derek, we are over.” The dismissive smile in Derek’s eyes melted into irritation. Treating my breakup statement as a childish tantrum, he grabbed Brooke’s elbow. “Brooke, let’s go,” he snapped. “Let her sit here and cool her head.” “Wait, Derek, Paige hasn’t eaten yet!” “She’s an adult, Brooke. When she gets hungry, she’ll eat.” As if deliberately trying to spite me, Derek pulled Brooke along, walking away without looking back once. Brooke kept glancing back over her shoulder. I did not stand there sulking. I turned around and ordered takeout on my phone. Right after I finished eating, Brooke came rushing back into the lobby holding a sleek takeout container, with Derek trailing casually behind her. “Paige, I packed some food for you! Eat while it’s warm!” An hour had passed. They had clearly finished their own meal. “No need to trouble yourself. I already ate.” Brooke froze mid-action as she opened the container. Seeing my indifferent expression, Derek lost his patience entirely. He stepped forward and shoved the food containers back into the bag. “I told you not to bother packing food for her,” Derek sneered at Brooke. “Now you see what happens when you try to be nice? If she wants to starve, let her.” I remained silent, watching him calmly. Truth be told, I had never seen Derek act this sharp and impatient before. He was defending Brooke, just as he used to defend me years ago. Having dated him for three years, claiming I felt no pain would be a lie. My chest felt tight, suffocatingly sore. 4 From that day on, Derek initiated a silent treatment. I remained unaffected, staying comfortably at my parents’ house. The only time I crossed paths with him was during the morning rush at the office entrance. Derek acted as though I were invisible. Even if we accidentally ended up face-to-face, he would shift his gaze away, as if delivering a silent punishment. I paid it no mind, focusing solely on finishing my final month at work. Brooke continued to greet me every morning. I responded politely, maintaining the exact tone one would use with a distant coworker. At lunch, Derek still pulled Brooke along to eat out every day. Brooke played the part of the helpless, sympathetic friend caught in the middle of a couple’s squabble to perfection. After dining with Derek, she would come down to lecture me on reconciliation. “Paige, stop picking fights with Derek. Just make up with him already.” When Brooke brought it up yet again, I could not hold back a weary sigh. “Brooke, I am not picking a fight.” I looked her dead in the eye. “And we have officially broken up. Please stop telling me to make up with him.” Even if he had not verbally accepted it, the words had been spoken. As far as I was concerned, the relationship was dead. Brooke looked stunned. “Paige, what is wrong with you? I just want to see you two happy.” I tilted my head, studying her. “Happy? And then what? Continue letting you tag along on every date? Or rather, continue letting me play third wheel to the two of you while I get ignored?” My direct confrontation made Brooke’s eyes well up with tears. Looking utterly wronged, she turned and ran off. Not long after she left, Derek stormed downstairs in a fury. He no longer ignored me. He walked straight up to my desk, his face set in a stern glare, looking like a manager about to reprimand an incompetent subordinate. “What did you say to Brooke?” I knew he was here to fight Brooke’s battles again. A wave of profound powerlessness washed over me. I could not help but roll my eyes. “I didn’t say anything.” Derek snapped instantly. “You didn’t say anything? Then why is she crying upstairs?!” “Paige, whatever issues exist between us, why do you have to take it out on Brooke? If you have a problem, direct it at me!” “Isn’t she supposed to be your best friend?” “Look at yourself! When did you become so bitter and petty?” “Over one tiny argument, you are throwing a massive fit!” Derek raised his voice, completely uncaring of how sharp the stares from passing colleagues felt against my skin. Tears spilled from my eyes. Not out of hurt or embarrassment, but out of pure, unadulterated rage. “Derek, who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” “What did I do to her?” “Did I hit her, curse at her, or steal her boyfriend?” “In what capacity are you standing here interrogating me and protecting her?” “As her boyfriend?” A flicker of panic crossed Derek’s face, but he recovered instantly, letting out a cold laugh. “I knew it. You are jealous.” “You just can’t stand seeing me discuss work with Brooke!” “I told you a thousand times, it’s work! Purely professional!” “You are always so immature. You make everything so exhausting for everyone around you.” His mocking words nailed me to the spot. The rage that had been boiling inside me instantly went cold, chilling me from head to toe. Having heard the commotion, Brooke came running downstairs again. “Derek, what are you doing?” she yelled, grabbing his arm. “How could you say that to her?” Derek realized his words had been harsh, though he merely shifted his eyes briefly before regaining his righteous posture. “She’s the one making a scene out of nothing,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away. Brooke looked at me, her eyes filled with guilt. “Paige, I didn’t know… I didn’t know he would say those things…” I let out a cold laugh, cutting her off. “Brooke, you must be feeling pretty proud right now.” “He just humiliated me to defend you. You must be thrilled.” I rarely spoke with such venom, but seeing her tragic, innocent act made my stomach turn. “Paige, how could you think of me like that?” Brooke looked deeply hurt. “Why shouldn’t I? Didn’t you run upstairs to cry to him? Isn’t this exact outcome what you wanted?” Brooke choked on her words, unable to produce another innocent excuse. “Now if you will excuse me, I am working. Please refrain from coming down unless you have official business.” I wiped my tears away and ignored her entirely. Before the day was over, news of the blowup between Derek, Brooke, and me had spread through the entire company. 5 My shift partner at the front desk offered a few comforting words before leaning in. “Paige, did you really break up with Manager Derek?” I nodded without hesitation. “Completely.” She smiled. “Good for you! Every time I saw those two flirting under the guise of work, I wanted to throw up.” It turned out everyone saw it clearly. I was the only fool clinging to denial. Seeing my pale face, my coworker dropped the topic. “Anyway, it’s in the past now! With a face like yours, you can get any high-quality guy you want. Don’t waste tears on him.” Brooke seemed truly stung by my words, as she did not come down to see me for several days. Derek continued his cold shoulder routine, pretending I did not exist. Just like that, a whole week passed without a single word spoken between us. Yet, being in the same building, gossip about them never stopped reaching my ears. For instance, how Manager Brooke and Manager Derek teamed up to launch a major new product feature. Or how the two of them worked late into the night together and received praise from the executive board. A few curious colleagues tried to pry information out of me, but I simply smiled and told them Derek and I were split up, and his life was none of my concern. Until one afternoon, the front desk received an urgent courier package meant for the Administration Department on the fourth floor. My shift partner happened to be on break, so I had to take it upstairs myself. In the elevator, I ran into a few colleagues from marketing. They looked at me with a mix of pity and subtle anticipation. I knew why they pitied me, assuming a simple front desk girl had been dumped by a rising manager. But I did not care to entertain their drama. I just wanted to drop off the document and head back down. However, the moment the elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor, I bumped right into Brooke. “Paige! You came up!” “Are you here to see Derek? How did you know we were in the conference room? Let me go call him out for you…” Before Brooke could finish her sentence, Derek walked out from the hallway, having clearly overheard her. His eyes swept over me coldly. “Since you’re here, come sit in my office for a moment.” His tone was aloof. “No thanks. I am only here to deliver an urgent package to Admin.” Brooke looked at the thick envelope in my hand and snatched it right out of my grip. “What package is so important? I’ll drop it off at Admin for you! Go sit in Derek’s office and rest.” She gave me a gentle push toward Derek. Wearing high heels, the nudge forced me to take two steps toward him to keep my balance. A knowing smirk flickered in Derek’s eyes. He reached out to steady my elbow, lowering his voice. “Come on. Brooke will deliver it for you.” “Since you realize you were wrong, let’s just forget about the past few days.” “You throwing a fit like this hasn’t been easy on me either.” Without a second of hesitation, I pulled my arm back and stepped away from him. “Manager Derek, we are broken up. This kind of physical contact is inappropriate.” Derek’s eyes darkened instantly. “Paige, are you ever going to stop?” Unwilling to waste more breath, I turned to Brooke with polite distance. “Then I will trouble Manager Brooke to drop off the file. I have work downstairs.” Derek’s face turned thunderous. Brooke gave his arm a light nudge. “What are you standing there for? Go after her! Why else would the front desk send her up to deliver a file personally? She’s just putting up a front because she’s stubborn.” I heard Brooke’s words clearly, but I did not bother to clarify. They could believe whatever fantasy made them feel superior. Derek made a move to step forward, then caught himself and stopped. As the elevator doors closed, I heard Derek call out sharply, “Don’t run around during work hours!” I could not tell if he was speaking to me or to himself. When the elevator reached the third floor, another colleague stepped in. It was Phoebe. We had joined the company in the same hiring batch. She held a master’s degree and worked in the analytics team. During our first year, she often came down to the front desk to chat with me, and we became close friends. But she had always made a point to avoid eating lunch with Derek and me. 6 “Paige, I haven’t seen you come upstairs for lunch lately,” Phoebe said, taking my wrist. “I have a few things I really need to tell you. Come with me to the breakroom.” I assumed she wanted to complain about work, but seeing as the front desk was unattended, I declined gently. “I can’t right now, Phoebe. I’m the only one covering the desk today. Let’s catch up after work.” Phoebe looked disappointed, but nodded. “Alright, I’ll come down to see you as soon as I finish this report.” I thought I would coast through my remaining two weeks peacefully, but the very next morning, the moment I set foot in the lobby, my shift partner pulled me aside frantically. “You’re finally here! Did you sign for an urgent envelope yesterday for the Admin Department? Mr. Briggs from Admin is throwing a massive fit upstairs right now! Go take the file up to him!” I frowned in confusion. “I brought it up yesterday afternoon.” My coworker knitted her brows. “That’s strange. Why is he screaming that he never received it?” “Never mind that, just go upstairs and clarify with him before he calls HR!” Under her urging, I hurried up to the fourth floor. Mr. Briggs, the head of Administration, was bowing and apologizing into his desk phone when I walked in. Seeing me enter, he motioned for me to sit on the couch and wait. After five minutes, he slammed the phone down, his face dark as a thundercloud. “Paige, where is that courier package?” “I brought it up yesterday afternoon.” “Brought it up? To whom?” “I gave it to Manager Brooke right outside the elevator. She promised to hand it to you personally.” “Brooke?” Mr. Briggs stood up immediately. “Come with me to get it. That file contains crucial vendor contracts for the new project launch!” Realizing the severity of the situation, I quickened my pace behind him. We found Brooke inside Derek’s office. The two of them were leaning over a laptop, discussing work. Mr. Briggs knocked forcefully on the glass door. Both of them looked up. Brooke immediately stood up and walked toward me with a wide smile. “Paige, are you here to see Derek again? I’ll head out so you two can talk!” Every single time I came upstairs, she made sure to announce to the room that I was chasing after Derek. Finding it intensely pathetic, I ignored her jab and spoke in an official tone. “Manager Brooke, did you fail to hand yesterday’s urgent package to Mr. Briggs?” A flicker of panic flashed across Brooke’s eyes. Mr. Briggs could not hold back his impatience. “Brooke, that document is extremely time-sensitive! Hand it over right now!” “I…” Brooke shot a helpless glance at Derek. A bad feeling bloomed in my chest. Derek stood up, stepping between Brooke and Mr. Briggs. “What document, Mr. Briggs? Is it really that urgent?” “Of course it’s urgent! It’s the master licensing agreement from headquarters! My team needs it to finalize the quarterly compliance report!” Hearing how critical the document was, Brooke cast another pleading look at Derek. “Brooke, Paige said she handed it to you directly,” Mr. Briggs demanded, holding out his hand. “Where is it?” At that moment, Derek took a step forward, completely shielding Brooke behind his back. “Mr. Briggs, Brooke was working in my office all afternoon yesterday. I certainly didn’t see her take any document from anyone.” “That’s impossible! She literally grabbed it out of my hand by the elevator!” the protest burst from my mouth. Derek narrowed his eyes at me, his gaze laced with cold warning. “Paige, delivering files is front desk responsibility,” Derek said smoothly. “Brooke is a Senior Product Manager. Why would she do your job for you?” “If the document is missing, it is obvious you lost it yourself.” I stared at Derek in sheer disbelief, then turned my gaze to Brooke. Derek shifted his eyes away from mine. Brooke kept her head lowered, too guilty to look me in the eye. 7 “Mr. Briggs, I swear on my job I handed that file to Brooke,” I said firmly. “If you don’t believe me, pull the security footage from the fourth floor elevator hallway from yesterday afternoon. You will see her take it from my hands.” “Paige!” Derek snapped, his face turning dangerously dark. Mr. Briggs was already beside himself with anxiety over the missing paperwork. Hearing my suggestion, he snapped, “I’m going to Security right now. If that file isn’t found, someone is getting fired!” I moved to follow Mr. Briggs, but Derek suddenly grabbed my wrist with a firm grip. He lowered his voice, his tone shifting into a mixture of pleading and expectation. “Paige, listen to me. Brooke was exhausted last night and forgot about the file, and now she can’t find where she misplaced it. Can’t you just say you lost it downstairs?” My eyes widened as I looked at him, feeling as though I were looking at a complete stranger. “Say I lost it? Why should I take the blame for her mistake when she literally…” Derek rubbed his temples, interrupting me with rising irritation. “I know she took it! But you heard Mr. Briggs, that file is worth a fortune to the company!” “You are just a receptionist! Taking a strike on your record for a lost package is no big deal! But Brooke is a product manager. If she gets tagged with a blunder like this, it will ruin her reputation with upper management!” Just a receptionist. I thought Derek was merely a oblivious guy lacking social boundaries, but it turned out he harbored a deep seated professional snobbery. A sharp, unbearable ache radiated through my chest. In that moment, I had to admit the painful truth: I had misjudged his character entirely. I ripped my wrist out of his grip and slammed my hand across his face with a loud, ringing slap. “Derek, do you have any shame left at all?!” The slap echoed sharply in the quiet office. Brooke gasped in horror and immediately stepped in front of Derek, shielding him. “Paige! How could you hit him?!” I glared at her, my voice ice-cold. “Because of your pathetic, incompetent mistake!” Brooke’s eyes turned red, tears instantly welling up. “Fine! It’s all my fault! I was careless! I’ll go tell Mr. Briggs the truth right now!” She made a dramatic move to leave, but Derek caught her arm instantly. “Brooke, don’t be stupid!” Derek urged, holding her back. “You worked so hard to get this position! If headquarters penalizes you over this contract, your career trajectory is ruined!” Brooke hesitated, biting her lip. “But we can’t make Paige take the fall…” Seeing that I remained completely unmoved by her tears, Brooke gritted her teeth. “At worst, they can just fire me!” Hearing that, Derek turned to me and barked furiously, “You slapped me, you yelled at her, haven’t you vented enough?! Can’t you just help Brooke out this once?!” “Isn’t she supposed to be your best friend?!” “Can’t you do a simple favor for her?!” “Paige, don’t make me despise you!” Looking at the two of them standing united against me, my stomach churned so violently I nearly gagged. “Save your breath,” I said coldly. “Once Mr. Briggs checks the surveillance footage, the truth will speak for itself.” Hearing my words, Derek did not look nervous at all. Instead, a mocking smirk touched the corner of his lips. My heart sank instantly. Within minutes, Mr. Briggs marched back down the hall, fuming with rage. “Unbelievable! How could that hallway camera happen to be offline yesterday of all days?!” I whipped my head around to stare at Derek. Derek met my gaze with a triumphant smirk. He had actually used his systems access to wipe or disable the footage just to protect Brooke. Mr. Briggs stopped in front of us, rubbing his temples. “Paige, the footage is missing. I don’t care who touched what, I only care about accountability!” Before I could speak, Derek immediately stepped forward. “Mr. Briggs, I can testify as a department head that Brooke never received any file yesterday. However, I did see Paige come up to the fourth floor afternoon. She claimed to be delivering a document, but where she dropped it off, nobody knows.” Derek looked at me with cold cruelty, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

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For five years, I was Sebastian Croft’s mistress. Then, I finally got the promotion. The woman who once screamed herself hoarse, calling me a shameless homewrecker, signed the divorce papers with the stillness of a stagnant pond. Before she left, she asked me a single, weightless question: “Do you believe in karma?” I laughed. If karma was real, I wouldn’t be sitting here, about to become the next Mrs. Croft. She had no one to blame but herself. She’d let herself become a bitter, washed-up housewife, incapable of holding on to her man. Once I had the title, I never slacked. I was relentless with my fitness, my skincare, my regular beauty appointments. Seven years into our marriage, Sebastian was still completely captivated by me. Even the two children she’d left behind, Aaron and Anna, now clung to me, their birth mother a distant memory. I always believed that karma was just a curse whispered by losers on their way out. Until today. From the leather of Sebastian’s belt, I found it. A single strand of bubblegum-pink hair, curled and caught near the buckle. 1 Sebastian always loved my long, straight black hair. Back when we were first together, whenever he was stressed, he would bury his face in it. The faint scent was enough to calm him. He despised what he called “tacky, artificial” hair colors. So, from the moment I was with him, I babied my hair, never daring to dye or perm it. For twelve years, it remained a flawless sheet of black silk. But this strand of hair—a pale, chemical pink—was tangled right where his belt would press against his waist. I could almost picture the position that put it there. “What’s wrong? You’ve been standing out on the balcony forever.” His voice was a low murmur behind me. “It’s windy. You’ll catch a cold.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder in that familiar, possessive way. Then he saw the hair pinched between my fingers. Sebastian froze for a fraction of a second. The next moment, his long, elegant fingers deftly flicked the pink strand away. It fluttered to the ground, disappearing into the dusk. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold.” He acted as if nothing had happened. I remained still, waiting. The silence stretched, but no explanation came. “Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?” I finally asked. Sebastian paused, seemingly surprised I would press the issue. He studied me for a long moment, his tone still infuriatingly casual. “Must have gotten caught on me during a dinner meeting.” “Accidentally?” This wasn’t the first time. I’d smelled perfume on his collar that wasn’t mine. I’d found a tube of hot pink lipstick wedged in the passenger seat. I knew the kind of world Sebastian moved in; there were always women trying to claw their way up. But their attempts were usually so pathetic, so low-class. Sebastian was above that. But now, the evidence was right in front of me, impossible to ignore. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “It seems so easy for trash to get close to you.” “Tsk.” The word “trash” seemed to strike a nerve. He looked down at me, a faint, mocking glint in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Don’t forget where you came from.” 2 I froze, the words hitting me like a physical slap. My face burned. I looked up at him in disbelief, but all I saw was his cool, condescending gaze. In the beginning, we had fallen together. But now, it seemed I was the only one who came out covered in mud. “Victoria, don’t make a scene.” Sebastian leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, but his words were ice. “Isn’t it enough to just be Mrs. Croft?” He let me go and walked away without a backward glance. On the table, the candles on our seventh-anniversary cake still flickered. He’d been on a business trip overseas; we hadn’t seen each other in two weeks. I’d begged for days, and he’d finally postponed a major project to come home for me. A gust of wind swept across the balcony, making the flames dance wildly, threatening to extinguish them. My phone buzzed. It was a message from the private investigator I’d hired a few days ago. Mr. Davies:[Ruby. 23 years old.] [Hired at H Corp three years ago, no interview. Position: Executive Secretary.] [Ms. Vance, H Corp is a subsidiary of Croft Industries.] [Current residence is in the villas over in Eastwood. Phone number xxxxx.] My finger dialed the number before I even consciously decided to. A cheerful, upbeat ringtone filled the silence. I stopped breathing. It was a matching version of Sebastian’s own ringtone. When we first started dating, I had begged him to use a matching one with me. He indulged my every other whim, but on that, he refused. His reason: “Darling, this number is for business, too.” He’d bought me a closet full of limited-edition bags to make up for it. Now, a sweet, feminine voice sang through the phone, over and over. A burning jealousy seared its way up my throat. My fingertips trembled as the call connected. I said nothing. Neither did she. After a few seconds of silence, a soft laugh came from the other end. Ruby’s voice was confident, as if she’d been expecting this all along. “Well? Finally couldn’t take it anymore?” That tone, those words. They were so familiar. Eight years ago, when his ex-wife, Eleanor, had found me for the first time, she’d stormed in, screaming, and slapped me across the face. I had looked at her, then, and smiled. “Losing your composure, Mrs. Croft?” “This look on your face… it’s truly ugly.” “No wonder Sebastian wouldn’t even show me a picture of you.” Eleanor had shaken with rage, the loose skin on her face and body trembling with her. Remembering that twisted, aging face, I glanced down at my own reflection in the dark screen of my phone. My skin was still firm, meticulously maintained. Even in my late thirties, I was flawless. I took a deep breath, my voice steady. “So you were waiting for me? Then let’s talk.” Ruby had clearly wanted to provoke me. My calmness seemed to bore her. “Fine by me.” See, Eleanor? There’s a difference between one Mrs. Croft and another. Even when faced with the same betrayal, I, Victoria Vance, can handle it so much better than you ever could. 3 Unlike Eleanor, who had come at me like a cornered animal, all rage and reckless words, destroying the last shred of pity Sebastian had for her, I came prepared. I had a spa treatment beforehand. I wore the latest haute couture dress. I chose the location: a quiet, atmospheric café. The PI’s file was thorough. Ruby’s life was an open book. She’d latched onto Sebastian when he gave a lecture at her university. She was aggressive. Poor family, a father with a gambling problem who’d done time. She’d had a rebellious phase in high school, running with a bad crowd. Even more low-class than I imagined. But even with all that information, when her face appeared across the table from me, I was stunned. She was an eight-point ringer for Eleanor. She even had the same faint beauty mark under her eye. In my mind, I saw the knowing looks from the guests at my wedding. I heard Sebastian’s friends, who used to privately call me “Little Eleanor.” After the wedding, I had consciously dressed in a style completely opposite to hers, desperate to escape that shadow. But this girl… she looked more like Eleanor than I ever had. A wave of absurdity washed over me. It couldn’t be. Ruby crossed her arms and waved away the waiter. “Just a glass of warm milk, please.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Cat got your tongue? You’re the one who wanted to talk.” She wasn’t even wearing makeup. Her face was bare, her skin glowing under a simple, loose-fitting cotton sundress. Even her pink hair, a color that should have looked garish and washed-out without a full face of cosmetics, looked effortlessly chic on her. I glanced at my own reflection in the window, at the face that required a full application of makeup to look this perfect. My fingers tightened on my clutch. I pushed the prepared credit card across the table. “There’s five million on this. It’s enough—” Enough for her to lift her entire family out of the gutter. Ruby laughed. “Are you kidding me, Grandma? Is that what you give to beggars?” “Do you have any idea how much Sebastian gives me a month?” For seven years, Sebastian had kept me in a gilded cage. “All you need to do is be happy and be Mrs. Croft,” he’d once said. I rarely got involved in his business, aside from major galas. I knew nothing of the company’s finances or assets. I fought to keep my composure, ignoring the taunt in her eyes. “How long do you think a relationship like yours can last? Ambition is fine, but in this situation, it might not be a good thing.” Ruby burst out laughing. She laughed so hard tears came to her eyes, looking at me as if I were a clown. “Oh, that’s rich… hahaha.” “Victoria, have you forgotten how you became Mrs. Croft in the first place?” After a moment, she straightened up, her hand gently resting on her stomach. “And besides… I’m not like you.” 4 No makeup. The dark roots of her hair showing. The glass of milk. And under the loose cotton dress, a barely perceptible swell. My head spun. No… it’s not possible. Seven years ago, in my first month as the new Mrs. Croft, I had gotten pregnant. When I joyfully told Sebastian, he had looked at my stomach, his expression gentle, but his voice was absolute. “Darling, I don’t want to hurt Aaron and Anna.” “They’ve already lost their mother. I don’t want them to have another reason to hate me.” Aaron and Anna. His twins with Eleanor. Divorcing her, he felt his only failure was to his children. He didn’t want another child with me. After the chemical abortion, as I lay in the hospital bed, Sebastian had promised me, “Aaron and Anna are your children now. Our children.” For seven years, I had honored that promise. I never dared to dream of having a child of my own. And now, Ruby was pregnant. Her sharp laughter was like a poison-tipped needle, stabbing into my heart. The pain was so intense I could barely sit upright. The next thing I knew, the warm milk had been thrown all over her. “Victoria! How dare you!” she shrieked. I looked down at my trembling hand, the empty glass rolling off the table and shattering on the floor. “Get in here! Slap her!” The door to our private room burst open. A large, imposing man stepped inside. When his eyes met mine, he flinched. It was Alex, Sebastian’s personal bodyguard. He had been assigned to me when we first got together. He’d been reassigned four years into our marriage, right around the time Sebastian met Ruby. Four years… The pieces clicked into place, forming a tight, painful knot in my mind. “What are you waiting for? Hit her!” Ruby screamed. The bodyguard hesitated. “Maybe… we should inform Mr. Croft first…” “Alex, are you disobeying me now?” Ruby sneered. “What did Sebastian tell you when he assigned you to me?” I looked up at Alex. He was Sebastian’s most trusted man, with him for over a decade. He knew Sebastian better than I did. What Sebastian valued, Alex valued. His hesitation gave me a sliver of insane hope. I grabbed my purse and stood, my head held high, ready to walk out. But a hand blocked my path. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Croft.” A stinging slap sent me reeling to the floor, my cheek burning. The world went blurry, the sounds around me distorted. I clutched my face, trying to clear my head. Then, Ruby’s phone rang. A familiar, gentle voice filled the room. “Why aren’t you at home? Where did you run off to now?” “Oww,” Ruby whined, her voice thick with fake tears. “It hurts.” Sebastian, who was supposed to be in another country for the rest of the week, appeared in less than half an hour. He meticulously checked Ruby from head to toe, ensuring she wasn’t burned. Only then did his expensive leather shoes turn towards me. “You promised me,” I whispered, looking at his face, searching for a trace of guilt. “You said you wouldn’t have any more children.” Sebastian looked down at me, his eyes cold, as if observing an insect. “I told you,” he said, his voice a soft, terrifying echo of his once-tender tone, “to behave.” “Victoria, if you can’t control yourself… I’ll have to send you to a hospital.”

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I’m the true heiress. On the very first day of our reunion, my biological mother pushed a bank card across the table towards me. “A million dollars a month. You don’t have to genuinely treat me like your mother. Just put on a good show in front of outsiders, and don’t embarrass me.” I froze for half a second, then immediately dropped to my knees, clinging to her leg as if my life depended on it. “Mom! How can you even talk about conditions with me? We’re a match made in heaven, anyone who tries to break us up will face karmic retribution!” Her brow furrowed. “…Don’t say such things.” I instantly corrected myself. “I get it, I get it, low-key. We’ll just call it a family subsidy, and I’ll take it.” Twelve million a year… Forget playing the loving daughter, I’d even call the fake heiress ‘sister’ with more sweetness than anyone else. 1. My knees ached, the marble floor was unforgivingly hard. But the smile on my face never wavered. Ms. Eleanor White, my recently acknowledged biological mother, clearly wasn’t used to this kind of theatrics. “Get up,” she commanded. “What kind of behavior is that?” I scrambled to my feet. “Right away, Mom. Your wish is my command.” “Let’s get one thing straight,” she settled back into the sofa, crossing her legs. “Cassandra Miller has lived in this house for twenty-two years. She’s delicate, with a heart condition, and can’t handle stress. To the outside world, you’re twins. She’s the older sister, you’re the younger. I don’t want to see any jealous squabbles.” I clasped the card with both hands and tucked it into my jeans pocket. “Don’t you worry, Mom.” I stood ramrod straight, practically saluting. “As long as the money’s there, Cassandra is my true sister. If she wants water, I’ll never offer her soda. If she wants to walk, I’ll never let her sit in a wheelchair. Oh, no, I mean, I’d carry her myself.” Just then, a girl leaned over the banister, looking down. This was Cassandra Miller, the fake heiress who’d occupied my place for twenty-two years. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked at me, tears already welling up before she spoke. “Mom… is this… Ms. Brooks?” According to the typical script, I should have been pointing my finger at her and calling her a thief. But I was different. This wasn’t an enemy; this was my personal ATM! If it weren’t for accommodating her delicate feelings, would Eleanor White be paying me such a generous salary? Cassandra bit her lip. “Ms. Brooks, I’m so sorry, I stole your life… If you mind, I can move out…” Eleanor White’s face darkened, she was about to speak. “Sis! What are you talking about?!” I widened my eyes, feigning deep sorrow, channeling the same sincerity I’d used to convince old ladies to buy portable chargers at the train station back in the day. “‘Stealing’ and such, how awful! These twenty-two years, you’ve suffered in this mansion!” Cassandra was stunned, tears clinging to her eyelashes, unsure whether to fall or not. “Huh?” I gripped Cassandra’s hands tightly, my voice brimming with heartfelt emotion. “Sis, just look at you, so thin! The food in a mansion isn’t delicious, is it? Too many rules? Too much pressure? I heard that wealthy people have to learn piano, painting, horseback riding, and attend social events constantly, how exhausting! I’m different, I was out in the countryside feeding pigs and chopping wood, strong as an ox, eating anything with gusto. Only a rough-and-tumble person like me could endure that hard life. You suffering for me all these years, little sister here feels awful about it!” Cassandra’s mouth hung open, unable to utter a word for a long moment. I struck while the iron was hot, turning to Eleanor White. “Mom, see how Sis is being so distant with me? From now on, with me around, no one will ever bully my sister. Sis, you just relax and stay put. Live exactly as you did before, I promise not to talk too much, not to cause any trouble, and never to worry you two.” “Alright. Since everything’s been said, let’s eat.” 2. I’d just picked up my chopsticks when a middle-aged man walked in. This was my biological father, Nick White. Though I called him Dad, he was actually the son-in-law who’d married into the family. The White family was rich, he was handsome – the script back then was likely a poor boy marrying a rich girl. “So this is… the one from the countryside?” He handed his jacket to the housekeeper, unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked over. “Why are you dressed like that? And no manners at the table.” I glanced down at myself. The clothes were from a discount store, not the best, but they weren’t revealing either. Nick White sat down, ignoring me, and instead served Cassandra a piece of fish. “Cassandra, eat more. You’ve looked so pale these past few days, Dad’s worried.” Cassandra glanced at me, then quietly said, “Thank you, Dad. Dad, my sister just got back, why don’t you get her something too?” What a perfectly brewed little drama queen, still stirring up trouble for me even now. Sure enough, Nick White slammed his chopsticks onto the table. “Her? She’s eaten everything under the sun in the village, does she need me to serve her?” “Now that you’re back, you’ll follow the White family rules. Wash off all that country bumpkin grime and don’t go out embarrassing your mother. And that name of yours, what was it again? Rose Brooks? Absolutely tacky.” He waved his hand in disgust. “Go change it tomorrow. I’ve decided, you’ll be Victoria White.” My million-dollar monthly salary included enduring my biological mother’s temper, but it didn’t say anything about tolerating her husband’s bad habits. I nonchalantly took a bite of a rib, then looked up at Eleanor White. Eleanor White seemed not to hear. Got it. Mom hadn’t said anything, which meant this was considered extra duty. I put down my chopsticks and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Dad, I can’t change my name.” Nick White’s eyes bulged. “What did you say? Talking back the moment you walk through the door?” “Not talking back.” I put on an earnest expression. “While Rose Brooks might sound a bit old-fashioned, it’s the name my adoptive parents gave me. Even though they weren’t always kind, often scolding or hitting me, and making me feed pigs and work the fields, they still raised me for twenty-two years. If I change my name the moment I return, what will outsiders think? They’ll surely say the White family is arrogant, that I’m greedy and forgotten my roots.” I sighed. “I don’t care about being gossiped about. But Mom is different. Mom is a businesswoman, and White Enterprises needs its reputation. What if the media sensationalizes it as a wealthy family forcing their true heiress to change her name, erasing twenty years of nurturing? The stock price would crash, wouldn’t it?” I turned to Eleanor White, looking utterly concerned for her. “Mom, isn’t that right? Losing millions for a bit of false pride, it’s not worth it.” Nick White pointed at me. “You… you’re just twisting words! How does this involve the stock price?” “How isn’t it related?” I feigned surprise. “Netizens nowadays hate the rich. Dad, don’t you go online? Oh, right, you usually just drink tea and play golf, you don’t manage company affairs, so it’s normal you wouldn’t know.” “Enough.” Eleanor White finally spoke. “Rose has a point. A name is just a label, changing it is a hassle. Let’s stick with Rose, I think it’s fine, very down-to-earth.” Cassandra’s gaze at me had completely changed. I grinned at her, then picked up a lobster with cheese and put it in my mouth. This mansion food, it really was delicious. And this kind of ‘easy’ money in the mansion, some people found it hard to swallow. But I was different; I earned my keep, standing tall. After dinner, Eleanor White called me to her study. “You’re very smart,” she said. “Thank you for the compliment, Mom.” I stood dutifully before the desk, hands clasped. “Do you know why I brought you back?” “Because blood is thicker than water?” I asked tentatively. Eleanor White scoffed. “Because Cassandra Miller’s fiancé only recognizes the White bloodline. We need to marry into the Henderson family, and Cassandra is a fake, so the marriage won’t happen. But Cassandra is frail, she can’t handle the abuses of that Henderson heir. So…” “You’ll have to marry him in her place.” Well, I knew it! There’s no such thing as a free lunch. So this was the catch. A high-society arranged marriage, a spoiled rich kid, and a stand-in bride. Isn’t this just another lucrative contract? “I’ll need more money,” I blurted out. Eleanor White paused, then smiled. “Deal.” She pulled open a drawer and slid another card across the table. “This is an adWhite for your dowry. An additional five hundred thousand a month for emotional distress. As long as you handle the Henderson family, I’ll give you half of the White family fortune.” “Mom, you just watch me. Forget a rich kid, I could tame the devil himself.” 3. The next day at noon, to celebrate my return, several extended White relatives were invited for a meal. I didn’t hold back, ready to dig in the moment I sat down. But before I could even reach for my chopsticks, Nick White turned the freshly served dish of premium abalone in front of Cassandra. “Cassandra, you’re delicate, have more of this to nourish yourself.” The Lazy Susan spun a full circle, stopping in front of me with a plate of stir-fried kale. Nick White shot me a glance. “Rose, your stomach is used to simple food. Eating rich food suddenly might upset your digestion. Dad’s doing this for your own good, eat more greens, they’ll cleanse your system.” Cassandra looked troubled and said quietly, “Dad, isn’t this… a bit much? My sister just got back…” “What’s too much?” Nick White raised his voice. “A wild pig can’t appreciate fine grain. It would be a waste to give it to her.” Nick White, seeing that I said nothing, assumed I was intimidated, and became even more emboldened. He poured himself a glass of red wine, swirling it. “Speaking of which, our Cassandra truly has good fortune. Originally, the engagement to the Henderson family was for you, but thankfully you’re frail. That Julian Henderson, tsk tsk, who in the social circles doesn’t know him? Drinking, gambling, womanizing, he’s mastered it all. I heard he has a terrible temper too, he broke a young model’s leg last month.” He took a sip of wine and clapped Cassandra’s hand with a look of relief. “That kind of hellhole, only a thick-skinned country bumpkin is fit to jump into. It’s what they call ‘like finds like,’ trash with trash, a perfect match.” Cassandra’s tears were about to fall again. “Dad, don’t talk about my sister like that…” “Dad’s telling the truth!” Nick White grew more excited. “That kind of rich boy is a complete scoundrel. If it weren’t for that business deal, who in the White family would bother with him? Only an unsophisticated girl like Rose would treat him like a treasure.” I glanced at Eleanor White, who sat at the head of the table. Understood. The face my biological mother couldn’t tear, her biological daughter would tear for her. I stood up. Nick White, in the midst of his verbose tirade, was startled by my sudden movement. “What are you doing? Going to get more food? No manners at all…” I flashed him a brilliant smile. The next second, I gripped the edge of the marble table with both hands, drew a deep breath, and flipped it with a mighty heave. The entire table of abalone, bird’s nest, red wine, and white soup soared through the air in a less-than-graceful arc, then crashed heavily onto the floor. Oily abalone sauce splattered all over Nick White, instantly ruining his bespoke suit. “Ah…!” Cassandra shrieked, hiding in Nick White’s arms. Nick White was stunned, his pointing finger trembling. “You… you… you’ve gone mad! Are you crazy?!” I clapped the dust from my hands, my face righteous and indignant. “Dad! You’ve gone too far!” I pointed at the mess on the floor, my voice even louder than his. “Julian Henderson, who is he? He’s my future husband! He’s a crucial partner for our White family! Here you are, in front of all these people, publicly insulting the heir of Henderson Enterprises, calling him trash and a scoundrel! If this gets out, what if the Henderson family withdraws their investment? What if White Enterprises’ stock plummets? What if Mom’s hard work is ruined?!” I clutched my chest, heartbroken. “It’s fine if I, Rose Brooks, suffer a bit of injustice, even if you made me eat dirt, I’d accept it. But you can’t joke about our White family’s future just to elevate my sister! You’re undermining Mom’s efforts, you’re cutting off our family’s financial lifeline!” Nick White was so overwhelmed by my accusation that he gasped for breath. “You… you’re talking nonsense! I’m your father, what’s wrong with me saying a few words…” “You are my father, but you’re also the White family’s son-in-law!” I took a step forward, my presence commanding. “You’re eating the White family’s food and then smashing the White family’s pot! You’re just taking advantage and then badmouthing them! This kind of ungrateful behavior, I, Rose Brooks, won’t stand for it!” Nick White was trembling with rage, wanting to lunge at me, but he slipped on the oily mess on the floor and fell sprawling, face first. “Enough.” Eleanor White’s voice came at just the right moment. She set down her napkin, not even glancing at Nick White on the floor, merely sweeping her gaze towards me. “If you can’t eat, then don’t. Rose, Julian Henderson has scheduled a meeting this afternoon, go get ready.” I nodded obediently. “Alright, Mom, I’ll go right away. I’ll make sure to dress beautifully, not to embarrass our family, and certainly not to let that fifty million dollar dowry go to waste.” With that, I stepped over my groaning biological father and headed upstairs without a backward glance. Behind me, I faintly heard Eleanor White’s cold voice. “Clean up the floor. And from now on, anyone who dares to speak out of turn at the dinner table won’t eat.” 4. I met Julian Henderson at a private club. The lighting was dim, and the rumored playboy heir was slumped on a sofa, a cigarette between his left fingers, a drink in his right hand, three shirt buttons undone, and a look of utter impatience on his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the… country bumpkin the Whites dug up?” “I heard you used to feed pigs in the countryside? What, do the Whites think I’m like a pig, so they specifically found a professional to take care of me?” The several hangers-on beside him burst into laughter. I wasn’t angry. I picked up an empty glass from the table and poured myself a drink. “Mr. Henderson, you jest. Feeding pigs means getting up early, mixing feed, and shoveling pig manure – it requires high-level skills. Taking care of you, however, is much simpler. As long as the money is right, you tell me to go east, I won’t go west. You tell me to swat a dog, I won’t chase a chicken.” Julian Henderson froze for a moment, apparently not expecting such bluntness from me. He sat up straight, about to speak, when the private room door was pushed open. A woman in a white long dress burst in. “Julian…” Her voice trembled, her eyes fixed solely on Julian Henderson. “Are you really going to marry this… this country woman?” Julian Henderson’s face instantly darkened. I raised an eyebrow. I knew this one. According to the information Eleanor White gave me, this was Julian Henderson’s ‘first love,’ Sienna Reed. She’d once ditched him, complaining he was irresponsible, and ran off with a jock. Now, hearing Julian was getting married, she’d reappeared, playing the role of the deeply devoted lover. Before Julian Henderson could even open his mouth, Sienna Reed had already rushed towards me. “Ms. Brooks, is it? I know you’re only marrying Julian for money. How much do you want to leave him? A million? Two million?” Two million? Who did she think I was? My current worth was in the hundreds of millions. “Ms. Reed.” I looked at her. “Please watch your words. I am Julian Henderson’s fiancée now, the future Mrs. Henderson, recognized by both our families. You come in here, throwing money around, aren’t you being a little disrespectful to my professional ethics?” Sienna Reed was stunned. “What professional ethics?” I stepped forward, blocking her path to Julian Henderson. “Taking care of Mr. Henderson is my profession. My client… oh, no, my fiancé is currently drinking and isn’t in a very good mood. You coming in here, crying and making a scene, and then trying to insult his judgment with money—are you disrupting my work environment, or are you questioning Mr. Henderson’s taste?” Sienna Reed’s face turned pale with anger. “You… how could someone like you be worthy of Julian! Julian and I have a history!” “A history?” I scoffed, glancing back at Julian Henderson, only to find him watching me with interest, showing no inclination to intervene. I turned back to Sienna Reed, unleashing my full verbal artillery. “Ms. Reed, this ‘history’ thing is too vague, it doesn’t hold its value. You claim you have a history, why did you run off in the first place? Now you’re back, did that jock get tired of you? Trying to come back for seconds? Sorry, but this ‘grass’ is already fenced off. Whether it’s tender or withered, it’s mine, and no one else is getting their hands on it!”

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The day Ted and I broke up, we tore each other apart, leaving no shred of dignity. He’d spat, “Selfish and cold, no wonder your family’s all gone.” I’d shot back, “A spineless wimp, a grown-up baby, destined for failure your entire life.” We were young then, our love and hatred equally fierce, our words like knives, seeking out each other’s weakest points to stab. Three years had flown by since then. He was successful, already a bestselling author. He had a new girlfriend by his side. And I… I had already been dead for three years. The Reaper asked if I had any wishes. I thought seriously, then politely inquired, “Could I be Cassandra Miller for a few days?” She was Ted’s current girlfriend, and his fiancée. I wanted to see for myself how he truly loved someone. 1. Perhaps my wish was too outrageous, for even the Reaper fell into a long silence. He asked me in a calm tone, “You ghosts, once you’re dead, you’re dead. Why do you always hold on?” I stared at my toes, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his words. It wasn’t like this at first. Three days before I died, I’d just had another huge fight with Ted. Over a trivial matter, and over countless past incidents. I’d pointed a finger at Ted’s nose and yelled, “Get out of my sight! Even if you crawl back on your knees like a dog this time, I won’t spare you another glance!” He’d sneered back, “Get out? I will. Eleanor Brooks. I’d rather be a dog than come back to a lunatic like you.” That very night, he packed his bags and moved out of our small rental home without a backward glance. Three days later, I suddenly craved hotpot. I texted Ted on my way to buy ingredients. “Hotpot tonight, what do you want to eat?” A few minutes later, my phone chimed. I immediately opened it. Against our intimate chat background, a line of cold white text appeared. Ted Bear: Talk to me when you’re dead. The next second, a large truck roared past, my phone flew from my hand, and the world spun. Pedestrians screamed in alarm, and I, ever curious, looked around. —Then I looked down and saw my own body. It wasn’t a pretty sight. A bit grotesque. The moment I realized I was dead, a strange sense of satisfaction surged through me. He’ll finally cry this time, I thought maliciously. I’d told him countless times not to talk about death all the time. Now look, he’d actually cursed me to my grave. I watched as my body was taken to the hospital by ambulance, then to the funeral home. The police informed Ted of my death. Silence lingered on the other end for a few seconds, then a slightly hoarse voice asked, “Is this some kind of joke?” He hung up immediately after. The second time the police called, he directly rejected it. It wasn’t until the police showed up at his door that he believed it wasn’t one of my pranks. He opened the door slightly, his eyes shadowed with lack of sleep, and politely declined the police’s request to identify the body. He said coldly, “We broke up. She has a half-brother; you should contact him.” A female officer who accompanied him said, “We’ve already contacted him. He’s also unwilling to come.” Hearing this, Ted raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “If even her own brother doesn’t want anything to do with her, why demand it of her ex-boyfriend?” With that, he slammed the door shut. I was so angry I nearly tumbled backward. That bastard didn’t shed a tear for me, and he wouldn’t even claim my body! We’d been together for five years, after all. Finally, with no one to claim the body, I was forcibly cremated by the funeral home. My soul returned to the Underworld. At that time, the Underworld’s reincarnation quotas weren’t as tight as they are now. I happened to get a spot but decided to give it to a little girl who had died of bone cancer. I didn’t want to be reincarnated. If I reincarnated, my memories would be wiped clean, and Eleanor Brooks would completely vanish from this world. Just as Ted had said, I was selfish, heartless, disloyal, and my tongue was as venomous as a black mamba. I wasn’t a good person. But I still wanted to wait a little longer. Wait for Ted to shed a single tear for me. 2. In the beginning, after I died, I didn’t really have any strong obsessions. I did think about Ted. But it was only to see him cry for me. Not to stage some sort of star-crossed human-ghost romance. Besides, the Underworld was strictly managed. Ghosts couldn’t go up, and living people couldn’t come down until their time came. Because of the annual decline in birth rates, reincarnation opportunities became scarce, and ghosts accumulated more and more. For everyone’s mental and physical health, the Underworld developed a software called “Soul Dance.” For a daily payment of ten million Netherworld coins, you could observe one hour of a living person’s life. This living person had to have been closely related to you when you were alive, and their private life would automatically be censored when it involved intimate details. In short, as long as you paid, you could choose anyone you wanted to watch – family, friends, mortal enemies… fully satisfying your voyeuristic desires. Back then, I used Soul Dance to spy on Ted for an hour every day. I knew that when a loved one dies, some people don’t immediately feel grief. In psychology, this is called emotional detachment, a self-protective mechanism of the brain. Ted might be like that. He might not have realized I was dead yet. That I would never infuriate him again, or argue with him, or complain about his dirty socks lying around, or unreasonably ask him why he didn’t pour me a hot drink when I had my period. It was okay, I could wait for him. I waited for him for half a year. Until he got a new girlfriend. His new girlfriend was very different from me. I was a programmer working nine to five, spending my days typing code in front of a computer. She was a member of a top national ballet company, tall and graceful, with a bright and elegant face. When she smiled, her eyes seemed to ripple with charm. She was also a fan of Ted’s books. She wouldn’t, like me, tell him every day that his writing was a pile of garbage. I watched them together, watched her make colorful, nutritious meals for Ted, watched her playfully coax Ted into taking walks with her. The smiles on Ted’s face gradually increased. He seemed like a completely different person, no longer the reclusive writer with zero self-care skills, whom I worried would starve to death at home if I went on a three-day business trip. He learned to do chores, noted her birthday and period in his planner, and even, at her casual mention of feeling unwell, proactively cut ties with an online friend he’d known for over a decade. —That’s when my obsession began to grow wildly. I couldn’t accept it. I hated it to death. Hated that after five years of dating, he’d found someone new just half a year after we broke up. Hated that after my death, he could nonchalantly start a new life, not shedding a single tear for me. And I hated even more that his new partner was so excellent and beautiful, with not a single resemblance to me. It was as if… Eleanor Brooks as a person had been completely negated by Ted. I was like a desperate gambler, clutching Soul Dance every day, desperately trying to find evidence that he didn’t truly love Cassandra Miller. Until I owed Soul Dance a huge sum of money and was kicked out, forced to work for the Reaper to pay off my debt. Only then did I honestly admit that Ted had indeed changed his heart. It wasn’t emotional detachment. It was just that he had stopped loving me a long time ago. After all, reality wasn’t a novel; no one would endlessly pine for a deceased ex. So, it seemed he hadn’t done anything wrong either. 3. The Reaper let out a long sigh, looking at me. A few days prior, the Underworld’s office system underwent a major overhaul, and I had worked overtime through the night to help him fix a critical bug, assisting twelve thousand ‘holdouts’ in their reincarnation. He owed me a favor. But I couldn’t exploit that. I hung my head even lower, saying in a small voice, “It’s okay if it’s not possible.” He said, “It’s not impossible…” “It’s just, out of the options for an Underworld civil servant, a permanent position in the Ministry of the Dead, or a good reincarnation, are you sure you want to choose this?” I said, “I’m sure.” I knew I was foolish, and I knew I had chosen the worst option. But what makes a person human is their inability to always remain rational. The Reaper nodded. He had seen too many lovesick souls, so he wasn’t surprised. He said, “Fill out an e-form, state the reason as ‘visiting family,’ and remember to cc the Head of Ox and Chief Horse.” “Once the e-form is approved, we will send a dream to Cassandra Miller. As long as she agrees, you can use her body to live in the mortal world for seven days.” …The entire process was so formal it felt absurd. My mouth tasted bitter, and I asked softly, “What if she doesn’t agree?” Such a bizarre and ridiculous request. The Reaper said, “Then you’ll just have to choose one of the three options above.” I returned to my dwelling. For three years in the Netherworld, I had lived by the River Styx, sharing a home with the ferrywoman. She was brewing her soup. Seeing my gloomy expression, she asked the reason, then offered comfort. “The human heart is very complex. From what I see, Ms. Miller might not refuse.” I asked, “Why?” She uttered a few words: “To make you completely give up hope.” The wind along the River Styx was exceptionally sharp, occasionally mingled with the wails of resentful souls. I remained silent, lowering my head to help her with the soup. Three days later, the Reaper’s secretary came to find me. “Cassandra Miller’s dance troupe is currently on tour in Norway. The boss wants me to give you access to study her behavior and mannerisms, so you don’t give yourself away the moment you take over.” I asked, “She agreed?” The secretary shook his head. “Don’t rush, the review officer is on leave. The dream-sending procedure is still ongoing, but you’ll definitely get an answer within two weeks.” I was used to it. The Underworld’s efficiency had always been low, otherwise, it wouldn’t have accumulated over a hundred thousand ‘holdout’ ghosts unable to reincarnate. I followed the secretary to the Rebirth Passage, watching him input a sequence number into his tablet. A sudden fear struck me. What was I doing? Why was I going to meet Ted as Cassandra Miller, turning myself into a clown? And even if I did meet him, what then? Would I confront him and yell at him, or would I sit down and finish that hotpot we never got to eat? I felt timid. I was about to tell the secretary I wanted to change my wish. Before I could open my mouth, he looked up and gently pushed my back. The world spun. When I opened my eyes again, the streets were pristine, traffic flowed slowly, and shop windows gleamed. Unfamiliar faces passed by me, speaking words I didn’t understand. Oslo, Norway. Cassandra Miller appeared clearly in my sight, no more than a meter away from me. 4. She was beautiful. Her hair was raven black, her eyelashes long, and two dimples graced her cheeks, promising a smile before she spoke. Her years of dance training gave her an exceptionally distinct aura. At this moment, she was wearing a bright red down jacket and a fluffy white hat, smiling and talking to her companions. I felt a moment of unreality. “Tomorrow, let’s try that Korean restaurant downtown, I heard it has really high ratings on Google Maps.” “We have another performance the day after tomorrow, aren’t you afraid of gaining weight?” “Oh, just a little bit!” They giggled as they passed by me, bringing with them a vibrant, living scent. It was as if an invisible thread pulled me, making me unconsciously move closer to Cassandra. “Cassandra, when we go back home next week, will your boyfriend pick you up?” Cassandra pursed her lips, a faint smile on her face. “He probably will.” One of her female friends teased, “Can you get the famous author to sign autographs for us then?” “Yes, yes, sign one for each of us! I’ll take it back and show off to everyone.” “Cassandra, I want a personalized autograph!” Cassandra readily agreed, “No problem, I’ll tell him.” I quietly followed behind them, my thoughts drifting back to the past. Back then, Ted had just earned his first royalty check. Not much money, two hundred dollars, enough for us to share a hotpot. We ate until our bellies were round, then stumbled unevenly through the snow-covered streets. As we walked, he suddenly crouched down, using his finger as a pen, and signed his name in the snow for me. His cheeks were red from the cold, but his eyes were bright, and he excitedly said, “Do you think when I become famous, people will fight for my autograph?” I vaguely said yes, pulled him up from the ground, and brushed the snow from his clothes. I told him, “When that happens, sign a bunch for me. I’ll sell them at the fish market.” He smiled and said, “Okay, I’ll sign a whole roomful for you, you can sell them slowly.” —Now Ted was truly famous. But that signature left in the snow had long since melted away. On the third night, Cassandra Miller’s final performance in Norway also concluded successfully. During the curtain call, she circled the stage like a little swan, then gracefully took a bow. The entire hall erupted in thunderous applause. That night, she made a video call to Ted. I didn’t dare listen. As a ghost, I hid on the balcony, staring blankly at the snowflakes softly falling outside. The secretary appeared beside me. “The procedures are complete. The dream will be sent tonight.” I asked him, “Can I change my wish?” He glanced at me, his voice cool as he asked, “Do you think the Underworld is your personal playground? That you can do whatever you want?” I meekly shut up. He didn’t rush off either, but sat beside me, watching the snow outside the window. He suddenly said, “Eleanor Brooks, you’ve become like a rabbit.” Docile, quiet, completely unaggressive. The old me wasn’t like this. Back then, I’d dared to smash a keyboard on my harassing boss’s head, dared to chase away hoodlums bullying Ted with a mop, dared to curse at malevolent ghosts teasing child spirits. But then Cassandra Miller appeared. She made me realize I wasn’t a swan. I was just a rabbit with dull fur, ugly, and utterly without merit. The snow stopped. The secretary stood up. He said, “Eleanor Brooks, I hope the next time we meet, you’ll be a little happier.” He vanished from the spot. I stood alone for a moment, then drifted back inside. That night, Cassandra Miller lay in bed, deeply asleep. Suddenly, her brow furrowed, and she abruptly opened her eyes. Though she couldn’t see me, her gaze landed precisely on the corner where I was. A very complex expression crossed her face. “I agree,” she whispered. 5. I had no idea why Cassandra Miller agreed. Was she a saint? Had she lost her mind? Why would she let her boyfriend’s dead ex-girlfriend possess her body to approach her boyfriend? Or was it just as the ferrywoman said, she wanted me to completely give up hope? Cassandra Miller seemed to have no intention of explaining to me. She probably already knew I was near her. In the days before returning home, she was talking to herself. She chattered about various precautions. “I don’t eat greasy or spicy food, and I only drink purified water.” “After this tour, I’ll have a month off when I get back. I don’t usually like going out, but I go to the practice studio every morning.” “I also have a dog named Lucky, I sent him to a kennel before I went abroad, remember to pick him up for me.” She paused, then added, “Recently, a younger guy has been pursuing me. Help me keep it a secret, don’t let Ted know.” “If he keeps texting, just ignore him. Give him the cold shoulder.” Me: … I boarded the plane home with her. And even took a moment to enjoy the empty first-class seat. After we landed, Cassandra Miller didn’t rush to get her luggage. Instead, she went to the restroom to wash her face and put on makeup. Today, she was wearing a white turtleneck sweater, and she was applying lipstick in front of the mirror. It was a very light shade, like sugared cherry blossoms. I was watching, mesmerized, when I suddenly heard her say, “Ted said he’d pick me up. He should be here by now, I think.” She sounded like she was talking to herself. After putting away her lipstick, she went to retrieve her checked luggage. I knew she was saying it for my benefit. My heart was a jumble of emotions, and I stood frozen for a while, until that invisible thread pulled me, and I listlessly floated behind her. We got the luggage, walked through the dense crowd, rounded a few corners, and crossed a long moving walkway. —Then we reached the exit. My heart pounded like a drum, and I instinctively held my breath. My eyes couldn’t help but scan the crowd of people waiting, yet I was terrified of seeing him the next second. Cassandra Miller was also looking around. Soon, pushing her suitcase, she strode purposefully towards a bubble tea shop on the side. A tall, lean man was waiting in line there. His back was to us, wearing a fitted black trench coat that accentuated his slender waist. She walked up and covered his eyes, giggling, “Guess who?” I stared at his back, my eyes wide. The man, with a hint of helplessness, turned around— In that instant, my soul felt as if it had been harshly tugged by an invisible force. The next second, a warm touch came from beneath my palm. He gently pulled my hand away, saying with a hint of indulgence, “Cassandra, stop messing around.” He called out someone else’s name. But it didn’t matter. After three years, his face appeared clearly before me once again. Deep-set eyes, a high bridge nose, skin as pale as snow, which would flush with a deep blush if kissed. Ted. I couldn’t help but tremble all over. He frowned slightly, released my wrist, and reached up to check the temperature of my neck. “Are you very cold? Why are you trembling?” I stared at him blankly, my throat feeling constricted, unable to utter a single word. I let him pull me away from the queue, and then he pressed a warm cup of bubble tea into my hand. He asked worriedly, “Cassandra, are you okay? Why aren’t you speaking?” “Didn’t you say the performance went smoothly?” I gazed at his face greedily. Although my eyes were sore and swollen, I couldn’t bear to look away. He had lost a lot of weight, and matured considerably. But overall, he was still the Ted I remembered. “I’m fine,” I finally found my voice, a catch in my throat. “How are you?” “Ted, are you okay?”

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