My name is Lucia Weaver, and my husband Jonathan Wilson suffers from oligospermia. To have children, we’ve undergone six IVF procedures over the five years since our marriage. This time, after I accompanied him through two hours of videos, he finally managed to produce one healthy sperm. I thought we’d finally succeed in getting pregnant, but on the day of my IVF procedure, he secretly gave his sperm to his first love, Emily Fisher. I was told that my sixth IVF attempt had failed, while Emily posted a pregnancy photo on Instagram, openly thanking Jonathan. 【Thank you Jonathan for providing the perfect sperm. I’m successfully pregnant.】 Our mutual friends commented: 【I always said if you can’t have kids, it’s definitely the woman’s problem. If Jonathan had switched partners earlier, he’d already have a son.】 Jonathan replied with a smug emoji: 【My sperm deserves someone with excellent genes like Emily!】 I quietly liked the post and commented: 【Wishing you both happiness.】 Then I immediately contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers. A man who’s been tainted isn’t worth holding onto. ***** Right after I posted my comment, Jonathan called me. His tone was arrogant, and he started by scolding me: “Lucia, Emily’s already going through enough with IVF. You’re both women—can’t you be a little kinder? Delete that comment right now and apologize to Emily! “My sperm, my choice. Who are you to act all passive-aggressive about it? How embarrassing!” I smiled bitterly, looking down at my stomach and thighs covered in needle marks and bruises, and my body weight that had ballooned from the medications. So he did know that IVF was hard on women. But I’d gone through it six times, and he’d never shown me an ounce of sympathy. Five years of marriage, all because of his oligospermia. To fulfill his mother’s wish for a grandchild and his own desire to be a father, I endured six IVF cycles despite the toll on my body. This time, when we finally had one healthy sperm, he secretly switched the sample on the day of my procedure, all to fulfill Emily’s wish for an “unmarried pregnancy.” He’d rather let me endure the pain of another failed attempt. I had clearly told him that the doctor said this might be my last chance. IVF success rates naturally decline with each attempt, and after consecutive failures, my body was already at its breaking point. Yet he still chose Emily. Right after the doctor announced my failed procedure, he immediately reposted Emily’s Instagram story with the caption 【I’m finally going to be a ‘father.’】 That joy was palpable even through the screen. It reminded me of the disgusted expression on his face every time he had to provide samples at the hospital. “Lucia, aren’t you being annoying? I’m a human being, not a breeding machine.” “You drag me to the hospital every month. Do you know how much this hurts my pride as a man? Sure, I have oligospermia, but have you ever considered that maybe you’re the problem?” My heart felt like it was being twisted by a blade. All my years of compromise and accommodation now seemed like a joke. Like a balloon being popped, I felt only bone-deep exhaustion. I said, “Jonathan, let’s get divorced.”

After hanging up the phone, I sat motionless on the bed, staring blankly for what felt like an eternity. My mind went completely blank, as if I wasn’t thinking about anything at all. But when I finally snapped back to reality, I realized tears had already silently streamed down my face, soaking my collar. I heard movement at the door and looked up to see Jonathan walking in with a dark expression, immediately launching into an angry tirade: “Lucia, when will you stop? You keep bringing up divorce every single day…” But when he saw the profound sadness on my face, his voice suddenly cut off as if someone had grabbed his throat, and his expression changed. He awkwardly approached and kissed my cheek: “Alright, I admit I didn’t think this through, but Emily and I really have nothing going on.” It had been so long since he’d kissed me. Ever since I started trying to conceive, I’d gained fifty pounds, and my face had broken out in constant acne due to hormonal imbalances. After I became fat and ugly, he never kissed me again. I’d even seen posts he’d made online: 【My wife is fat and covered in acne, I literally can’t bring myself to kiss her. What should I do?】 【I’m even physically repulsed when we’re intimate. How do I get through this whole trying-to-conceive phase?】 Even just remembering those words still made my chest tighten with a bitter, aching pain. Jonathan asked, “Where did you put my tie?” “Left closet, third drawer,” I answered automatically. These past few years, my life had revolved around nothing but trying to get pregnant and taking care of Jonathan’s every need. Hearing my response, a slight smile crossed his face: “I knew it—you don’t really want a divorce.” He seemed relieved and started rummaging around the room again: “Where are those baby supplies you bought before? Find them for me, I’ll take them over to Emily later. “And those pregnancy guides you put together—send me a copy so I can forward them to her for reference. “Oh, and you’re free tomorrow, right? Go with Emily to her prenatal appointment. You’ve been to so many hospitals, you’ll definitely know your way around better than she does. “Also, make sure you take a cab there tomorrow. Emily’s still early in her pregnancy—if she trips or falls and has a miscarriage, that would be terrible. You need to be extra, extra careful.” In all our years of marriage, I never knew he could be this thoughtful and considerate. I let out a soft laugh, tears welling in my eyes—not because of Jonathan, but for myself. How had I managed to live such a miserable life all these years? I took a deep breath, turned to look at Jonathan, and spoke with calm, detached clarity: “Jonathan, when I said divorce, I meant it.” Jonathan’s expression froze instantly. In less than a second, he angrily whipped his tie at my face. Though the tie was soft, it still stung my cheek. He roared, “Lucia, you’ve gone too far! Haven’t you had enough? Is it really necessary to keep harping on this? “From the moment I walked in, you’ve been giving me attitude. I kissed you, I held you—what more do you want? “Emily is my good friend, and she’s having a baby. Forget one sperm—if she wanted me to sleep with her, I’d be willing.” After his furious, incoherent rant, he threw out one final line: “You need to do some serious soul-searching. I’m not coming home tonight. I’m going to Emily’s.” Watching his hurried retreat, I felt surprisingly calm. Maybe this was the difference between how he loved others and how he loved me. Jonathan indeed didn’t come home all night. I was already used to this kind of thing. For Jonathan, Emily was his safe haven where he could vent his troubles. They could chat about skiing, working out, street dancing. Now they had another topic—parenting tips. A whole night probably wasn’t even enough time for them to talk. Sure enough, after staying up all night, I opened my phone to see Emily’s latest Instagram update: [Thanks to my good friends for celebrating my baby’s two-week birthday.] The photo showed not just Jonathan, but his entire crew of street dancing friends. Emily’s comment section was flooded with messages from this group. Russel Brown: [Jonathan, you’re such a jerk for getting first dibs on being Emily’s baby’s daddy!] Simon Martin: [Right? Just thinking about Emily’s kid calling Jonathan ‘daddy’ makes me sick.] David Harrison: [No worries, when Emily has her second kid, I’m first in line.] Then Jonathan chimed in: [I’m a graduate student, I play guitar, I can street dance, and I’ve got both brains and emotional intelligence. Of course Emily chose me. You guys can’t compete with me.] Russel immediately fired back: [Aren’t you afraid your wife will find out and break your legs?] Simon followed up with mockery: [Jonathan, why don’t you just get divorced already and focus on raising Emily’s kid? Didn’t you always complain that your wife smells bad and is ugly and disgusting?] Even though I’d already made up my mind about divorce, seeing Jonathan’s friends publicly humiliate me on Instagram still sent a sharp pain through my chest. From dating to marriage, his street dancing crew had never liked me. At first, I tried to fit in with them, but watching them play kissing games and dance intimately in public—I just couldn’t accept their loose values. Finally, one time when they played truth or dare and forced Jonathan to kiss Emily, I lost it on the spot. From then on, they openly insulted me on Instagram, saying I was ugly and bad-tempered, unlike Emily who was beautiful, had a great body, and was easy to get along with. After a few unpleasant encounters with them, I stopped going altogether. But I never forced Jonathan to cut ties with them either. Even when they occasionally attacked me on Instagram, I kept quiet and endured it. Now that my marriage with Jonathan was dead in name only, I didn’t need to consider anyone’s feelings anymore. I immediately replied in Emily’s Instagram comments: [I don’t know what smell I supposedly have, but I definitely smell something fishy. If you can’t smell it, try checking your armpits. [We’re getting divorced anyway, so you can’t control me anymore. Stop dragging your feet—it’s ridiculous.] After posting that, I shared the divorce papers my lawyer had drafted overnight on Instagram with the caption: [Jonathan, sign these so I can help you and Emily get what you want.]

As soon as I posted my message, Emily left a comment under my post: [I’m sorry, Lucia. I never thought you’d be so upset about me carrying Jonathan’s baby. Don’t worry, I’ll go get an abortion later today.] Right after Emily’s comment, Jonathan’s call came through. The almost synchronized timing left me with no doubt—they must have been lying in the same bed to coordinate so perfectly. I didn’t answer Jonathan’s call. But within seconds, my parents and even Jonathan’s parents started calling one after another. I still didn’t pick up. What I didn’t expect was that Jonathan’s father, Nathan Wilson, would directly attack my parents in the family group chat. [Esther, how did you raise your daughter? Does she have any sense of responsibility in marriage? Fighting over every little thing and demanding divorce—absolutely no manners.] [Poor people really have no class. Jonathan is so unlucky to have married a wife like Lucia.] Looking at these familiar accusations, I took several deep breaths to suppress my rage before grabbing my phone and firing back at Nathan: [You’re right, my parents didn’t raise me well—that’s why I was stupid enough to come to your house and take care of an idiot.] [By the way, you’d better get to the hospital. Your grandson’s real mother is about to have an abortion. If you’re any later, your precious grandson will be gone.] After sending that message, I texted my mom Esther Weaver and my dad Dave Weaver: [Coming home tonight. I’ll explain everything then.] After finishing all this, I collapsed onto the sofa. Only then did I notice my fingers were trembling as they tapped the phone screen. What followed was a dense, aching pain in my chest. Four years of marriage—this relationship I’d poured everything into and fought so hard to maintain had now become a disgusting pile of filth. Just as I was fighting back tears, Jonathan burst through the door. He completely ignored how pale and weak I looked slumped on the sofa, walked straight over, and grabbed my hand. “Lucia, you’re coming to the hospital with me right now. Do you realize that Emily wants to get an abortion because of your tantrum?” “Do you know how much effort Emily put into getting pregnant? How many shots she has to take every day? I’m not asking you to be a good person—just stop being so vicious and destroying an innocent life.” Hearing Jonathan’s words, bitterness instantly flooded my heart. So he’d always known—known how painful and difficult IVF was. But Emily only did it once, and he was already heartbroken for her. While I had gone through it six times. I suppressed the rage churning in my chest and calmly pulled my hand free. “Jonathan, if you came back to discuss divorce, we can sit down and talk. But if you want me to beg Emily not to abort the baby, sorry—I won’t do it.” Jonathan’s expression changed immediately. “What gives you the right to refuse? If it weren’t for you, why would Emily be going to the hospital for an abortion?” “I’m telling you, today you’re going whether you like it or not!” With that, he crouched down, untied his necktie, bound my hands with it, then hoisted me over his shoulder and headed for the door. In his rush, he even slammed my head hard against the doorframe as we went through. The stinging pain accompanied tears as they slid down from my eyes. Throughout the entire ordeal, I didn’t make a sound or struggle. Not until Jonathan hoisted me up and shoved me into the car, driving me all the way to the hospital entrance. The moment we appeared, Jonathan’s friend Cole Garrett immediately lashed out: “Lucia, are you out of your mind? If you’re really sick, go to a mental hospital. What the hell are you doing spouting nonsense in mine and Emily’s Instagram comments? Do you know that because of you, Emily has been crying since this morning and even says she wants to abort the baby?” Simon chimed in: “Lucia, if you want to be a bitter woman, go ahead, but why blame others? I’ve never seen such a disgusting woman in my entire life.” Russel also urged: “Jonathan, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and bring Lucia over here to make her kneel and apologize to Emily!” Listening to their accusations, Jonathan’s expression grew darker and darker. He suddenly shoved me forward, his tone vicious: “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and apologize to Emily! I’m telling you, if Emily doesn’t forgive you and doesn’t give up on aborting the baby, I will never let you off easy.” Jonathan pushed me hard, and I fell heavily to the ground, my knees instantly bleeding with hot droplets. As I clutched my leg, unable to get up for a long time, Emily came over with red eyes: “What are you doing? How can you be so rough with Lucia? She’s just petty and can’t accept that I’m pregnant with Jonathan’s child for the moment. But even if she’s wrong, you can’t treat her like this.” Hearing Emily’s words, Jonathan immediately glared at me angrily: “Emily, don’t you dare speak up for her. The way she humiliated you on Instagram, she deserves to be taught a lesson. It’s my child, and I have the right to decide whether it stays or goes.” Listening to Jonathan’s words, I braced my hands against the ground and slowly stood up. Taking a deep breath and suppressing unprecedented rage, I suddenly slapped him hard across the face: “Jonathan, this slap is payment for the six IVF procedures I endured for you over these four years.”

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The Allen family, Washington’s most prominent dynasty, saw their heir Anthony Allen accidentally poisoned, and he mistook me for the antidote. A month later, during my medical checkup, I discovered I was pregnant. When Anthony learned about this, he offered me fifty million dollars to carry the child to term, plus an additional ten million to purchase custody rights. However, my sanctimonious friend Eleanor Davis urged me to terminate the pregnancy. She said, “Money means nothing—it’s just material wealth. If you ruin your reputation for sixty million dollars, how are you any different from those escort girls in bars?” In my previous life, I listened to Eleanor and underwent the procedure. I even took Anthony to court, charging him with assault. Later, when my parents fell seriously ill, I turned to Eleanor for financial help. She slapped me hard across the face and said, “As my best friend, your parents are sick and you come begging to me? How shameless.” Eleanor cut ties with me on the spot, and the court ultimately ruled against me. In the end, without money for treatment, my parents died in agony. Devastated by losing them, I jumped from a rooftop. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Eleanor convinced me to have the abortion. ***** Eleanor shouted at me, “Natalie, if you take this money, how are you any different from a prostitute? “These wealthy men love toying with young girls. If you agree to this, you’re helping evil people do evil things. “You won’t take his money, right?” Natalie Morris—that’s my name. I stared wide-eyed at Eleanor, her face flushed red with anger in front of her spaghetti. Then I looked at Anthony standing nearby, holding a fifty-million-dollar check. That’s when it hit me—I had been reborn. I was back on the day I discovered my pregnancy. Seeing my silence, Eleanor grew visibly anxious. She took my arm and patiently urged, “Money means nothing—it’s just material wealth. “If you ruin your reputation for a mere fifty million dollars, how are you any different from those escort girls in bars? “This child absolutely cannot stay. It’s nothing but trouble that will ruin your entire life. “We may be poor, but poor people have dignity too. We must never bow down to evil.” Eleanor straightened her back, her eyes resolute, as if she were the embodiment of justice. But looking at her performance, I felt nothing but disgust. This time, I wouldn’t let her have her way. I coldly withdrew my hand and naturally took the check from Anthony. I said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about this. Once the child is born, I’ll hand it over to you.” My family was poor. Since school, if not for my good grades earning me scholarships, I couldn’t have afforded education at all. Now that I was already pregnant, what was the point of being pretentious? That was fifty million dollars. I could work my entire life and never earn that much. Anyone who wouldn’t want this money would be a fool. After hearing my words, Anthony seemed relieved. But Eleanor, standing beside us, went crazy and demanded, “Natalie, what are you thinking? “How can you agree to carry this child? “What you should do is come with me to the police station to file a report, then terminate the pregnancy. “You need to make these bad people pay the price they deserve.” Listening to her ranting, I found it incredibly annoying. I said, “My parents are still hauling bricks at construction sites. My family is extremely poor. One child can bring fifty million dollars. Why wouldn’t I make that trade?” Eleanor’s eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at me. She said, “Noble people love money too, but they earn it through legal, proper means. If your parents knew about this, they’d be ashamed of you and disown you as their daughter. “Not only that, you’ll corrupt society’s moral fabric. No matter how poor we are, we must never sell our souls.” This time, her seemingly reasonable words wouldn’t fool me anymore. I smiled as I put the check in my bag, then said coldly, “That’s none of your concern.” If I had taken this check in my previous life, I wouldn’t have ended up losing my loved ones and living in misery. In this life, I wouldn’t be so foolish as to let her manipulate me again.

After Anthony handed me the $50 million check, he added, “Once you give birth to the child, I’ll transfer the remaining $10 million to your bank account.” I nodded readily. Rich people sure are straightforward. In my past life, I listened to Eleanor’s advice and spread this matter far and wide. Everyone was talking about it, and we even took Anthony to court. As a result, because there was evidence that he had lost his rationality after being drugged, Anthony didn’t go to prison. Instead, I ended up spending all of my family’s meager savings on legal fees. So much so that later, when my parents fell ill, I couldn’t come up with a single cent. Upon hearing Anthony’s words, Eleanor crossed her arms. She said disdainfully, “Anthony, let me tell you something. Don’t think that just because you’re the heir to the Allen family, Washington’s most prominent family, us poor people will bow down to you. “Natalie is just confused for the moment. As long as I’m by her side watching over her, I can definitely guide her back to the right path.” Listening to her seemingly righteous words, I found them utterly ridiculous. If I hadn’t witnessed her disgusting behavior of sucking up to rich people after my death in my previous life, I might have still believed her words. Anthony knew we had taken a taxi here, so he offered to give us a ride. I was about to readily agree when Eleanor started her act again. She said, “Even though our family is poor and can’t afford a car, we’re people with dignity. We absolutely will not ride in you rich people’s cars.” Eleanor lifted her chin slightly, her eyes filled with self-righteous arrogance. She continued, “Don’t think that having money means you can do whatever you want. We poor people have dignity too.” As soon as Eleanor finished speaking, I said impatiently, “Alright. Thank you, Mr. Allen. It’s too late now to catch a taxi easily. Please give me a ride home.” Taking a taxi would cost money. Besides, I’d never ridden in a Rolls-Royce in my entire life. What’s wrong with experiencing it once? Hearing my words, Eleanor grabbed my arm forcefully. She said, “Natalie, what are you saying? We may be poor, but we need to have dignity! Are you really going to be dazzled by a luxury car so easily?” Looking at her expression of heartbreak and anxiety for me, I felt nauseated. At this point, Anthony had already opened the car door for me. I flashed Eleanor a brilliant smile and said, “Yes, I am dazzled by the luxury car. So I’ll take the luxury car and leave first.” With that, I got into the car. Through the car window, Eleanor looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. She asked pitifully, “Natalie, are you going to leave me here all alone? What am I supposed to do?” I glanced at her coldly. “Don’t you have dignity?” Seeing Eleanor reach for the car door handle, I quickly added, “You absolutely must not get in the car. “If you get in the luxury car, you’ll lose your dignity.” Eleanor was speechless, her face looking terrible. Anthony instructed the driver, “Let’s go.” Through the car’s rearview mirror, I watched Eleanor standing alone in the cold wind, looking like a fool being blown around. When I got out of the car, Anthony, concerned about the child in my belly, even helped steady me. After getting out, I turned around and went straight upstairs. The first thing I did after getting upstairs was to look at what Anthony’s check looked like. I’d never seen a check in my life. But as soon as I got home, I discovered the check was missing.

I searched through my bag for a long time but couldn’t find the check. Suddenly, I remembered that Eleanor had touched my bag before I left. I quickly called her, but her phone was turned off. I immediately went downstairs, hailed a cab, and headed straight to her apartment building. No one was home, so I had to wait outside. Before long, Eleanor came back, soaking wet. When she saw me, she immediately sneered. “I thought after riding in Mr. Allen’s luxury car, you’d be so immersed in that lavish lifestyle that you’d never come back to reality.” “Let me tell you, Natalie, being a rich man’s wife isn’t as easy as you think. Hanging around with those wealthy people will only get you bullied in the end.” “How did I never notice you had no backbone? You’d sell your body for a little money?” “But lucky for you, you have me. I’ll set you on the right path and show you what real dignity and integrity look like.” I wasn’t in the mood for her nonsense and walked straight up to her. “Is that check with you?” Eleanor’s expression flickered, but she quickly regained her composure. “What check? That check wasn’t meant for me, so why would it be with me?” I knew Eleanor too well—I could tell immediately she was lying. I pulled out my phone, pretending to call the police. “Alright. My check is missing, probably stolen. I guess I’ll report it to the police.” As soon as I said that, she frantically grabbed my phone. “Why would you call the police over something so trivial? You shouldn’t have taken that check in the first place. Do you know what the consequences will be? You’re only hurting yourself.” I scoffed. All I knew was that without this check, I’d have to watch my loved one die. I held out my hand: “Give me the check, or I’m calling the police.” Eleanor’s lie was exposed, but she didn’t even blush. Instead, she said loudly, “Do you really think I secretly took the check for money?” I raised an eyebrow: “What else?” Eleanor deliberately put on a disappointed expression. “Natalie, I’m afraid you’re going down the wrong path. Even if we’re poor, we can’t lose our dignity. In this life, dignity and integrity are more important than anything else.” “If you sell your body for money, what’s the difference between you and a soulless corpse? We…” Before she could finish, I reached directly into her coat pocket. Eleanor frantically clutched the check, not letting me take it. “Natalie, all you care about is money. If I don’t save you, you’ll stay confused forever.” Eleanor suddenly used force and tore the check to pieces. “Without the check, maybe your head will clear up a bit. You can’t lose your moral bottom line for money.” After tearing up the check, a flash of smugness crossed her eyes. She thought that by destroying the check, I’d be out of options. Unfortunately, she was wrong. From that day on, Eleanor called or texted me daily, urging me to get an abortion. Besides being busy trying to convince me to have the procedure, she was busy with something else. She was crafting a noble image on Instagram, specifically blocking me from seeing it. How did I know? Anthony told me and even sent me screenshots of the content. Eleanor kept telling me to stay away from Anthony, yet she secretly followed Anthony’s Instagram account under the guise of being “my good friend.” After that, Eleanor’s Instagram was basically filled with photos of her working hard at her job. The captions were all positive energy messages. [Even if I’m poor and tired, I absolutely cannot lose my dignity. We must create our future with our own hands and never bow down to evil people.] [Keep going! I want to be a woman who controls her own life and is independent and strong.] Anthony sent me another video—security footage. In the surveillance video, Eleanor was waiting outside Anthony’s company. After waiting for a long time, she finally saw Anthony come downstairs. As she walked over, she twisted her ankle in her high heels and fell into Anthony’s arms. Then she said in a stern tone: “Don’t think you can buy me off with money just because I’m Natalie’s good friend. Let me tell you, even though we’re poor, we have dignity. We won’t sell our dignity for money!” Anthony looked at her like she was an idiot for a few seconds, then said coldly: “Security.” Watching this, I burst out laughing. A week later, Anthony came to my house to see me. Eleanor somehow got wind of this and immediately rushed over to my place. The moment she walked through the door, she started shouting hysterically, spittle flying everywhere. She said, “Natalie, haven’t you come to your senses yet? This child absolutely cannot be kept. He’s nothing but a continuation of sin, a curse. If you keep this up, I really can’t be friends with you anymore. Everyone will be ashamed of you.” When I ignored her, she walked over to Anthony. She smiled and used her old trick again—leaning sideways and throwing herself into Anthony’s arms. I didn’t miss the smugness in her eyes. Anthony stepped aside, and Eleanor fell straight to the floor, wincing in pain. But she immediately put on a pitiful act, looking up with tears welling in her eyes without letting them fall. She said, “Don’t worry. Even though my family is poor, even though you’re Anthony, I would never extort you over such a minor injury. I may be poor, but I have dignity.” Anthony looked down at her with ice-cold indifference. He said, “My lawyer is very good at handling extortion cases. Would you like to try?” Eleanor’s face stiffened, and she awkwardly got to her feet. Then she immediately rushed to my side, saying, “Natalie, you must never accept charity from others. Otherwise, you’ll have no dignity left. The most important things in life are your reputation and backbone. Even if we’re poor, we must have pride. I’ve already made you a doctor’s appointment. You have to trust me.” I’d heard these words too many times before. I nodded dismissively and showed her out. Over the following period, Eleanor tried every trick in the book. She kept urging me to get an abortion while simultaneously crafting her noble image in front of Anthony. One day, while I was packing, I received a call from Eleanor. She said, “Natalie, don’t you realize your mistake yet? When are you going to get that abortion? I’ll go with you.” I replied, “No need. I’m going abroad.” Hearing this, Eleanor started making wild assumptions again. She said, “I get it. You’re worried about staying in America because the Allen family might come after you, so you want to go abroad for the abortion, right?” I said dismissively, “Yes.” Eleanor was thrilled: “That’s wonderful, Natalie. We poor people should have backbone and not be controlled by those rich folks. When you come back, I’ll help you find the best lawyer and take that bastard Anthony to court.” I could hear the excitement in her voice. But what she didn’t know was that I was going abroad to take care of my health. Soon, with Anthony’s arrangements, I left America. Abroad, aside from taking care of my health, I just ate, slept, and rested. Days passed by. I successfully gave birth to a baby girl abroad. And the $60 million was successfully transferred to my bank account. After handing the child over to the Allen family’s people, I prepared to return to America to see my parents. A few days after returning to America, Anthony found me again. He said the nanny suggested that children should bond closely with their mothers from an early age. Then he took me to the mall to buy baby supplies. As we were leaving the store, I received a text from Eleanor: [Natalie, when are you coming back to America? I’ve already found you a lawyer. I guarantee that bastard Anthony will spend the rest of his life in prison.] I ignored Eleanor. But by sheer coincidence, we ran into her right after that. She was arm-in-arm with a pot-bellied man, her other hand carrying several bags with designer logos. Seeing us, Eleanor looked panicked and immediately approached. Her gaze darted between me, Anthony, and the baby stroller we were pushing. Then Eleanor rushed forward and frantically grabbed my neck, demanding, “Natalie, didn’t you get an abortion? Tell me, where did this child come from?”

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I was reborn on the day my husband Matthew Roberts cheated on me, and the first thing I did was ask my colleague Parker Clark to switch shifts with me. In my previous life, Matthew had an affair with my best friend Sophie Baker in a car behind my back. They suddenly got into a car accident and were both rushed to the hospital. When I received the news and hurried to the hospital, I saw that due to the crash, Matthew and Sophie’s bodies had become stuck together. Later, Parker performed surgery on Matthew and Sophie. Both of them were fine, but I couldn’t handle the shock and fainted on the spot. When I woke up, Matthew sent me divorce papers. The agreement demanded that I couldn’t take any property with me and had to leave empty-handed. I used Matthew’s infidelity as grounds to demand we split the assets fifty-fifty. Matthew just sneered and said, “You’re saying I cheated? Where’s your proof?” Only then did I realize that because I was too shocked and had fainted, I hadn’t taken any evidence of Matthew’s affair. Plus, the hospital’s surveillance cameras happened to be broken. In the end, without proof of Matthew’s infidelity, I lost the case in court and got nothing. On the day of the divorce, I walked out of the courthouse with nothing, completely dazed. While crossing the street, I was hit by a car and died. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Matthew and Sophie were rushed to the hospital together. At the hospital, Parker, who had started working here the same time as me, was both surprised and delighted. After all, nobody wanted to work the night shift. He asked me, “Dr. Phillips, are you sure you want to switch shifts with me? If there’s surgery, it’s going to be really tough on you.” My name is Elizabeth Phillips. I smiled and nodded, “It’s fine. I’m feeling really energetic today. Even if there’s surgery, I can handle it.” Hearing this, Parker immediately packed up his things happily and left for the day. I turned around, dropped my smile, put on my mask, and prepared for surgery. Because I knew that in twenty minutes, Matthew and Sophie would be rushed to the hospital after a car accident caused by having an affair in the car, their bodies stuck together. In my previous life, Parker had performed this surgery. When I received the news and rushed to the hospital, I saw that scene and fainted immediately. Later, after Matthew and Sophie’s surgery went fine, they asked me for a divorce and demanded I leave without taking any property. This time, I was going to make sure this pair of bastards lost everything. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, chaotic sounds came from the emergency room lobby. Then Matthew’s familiar, vicious screaming rang out. He shouted, “Sophie, don’t move! You’re going to break me! Help me! Where are the doctors? Where are the nurses? Get out here and save us!” I peeked through the door crack. Sophie was lying on top of Matthew in an extremely awkward position. They were both naked, covered only by a bedsheet. All the colleagues present couldn’t help but give them disgusted looks and whisper among themselves. A male doctor said, “What the hell is this situation? How did they end up like this? Coming to the hospital naked – don’t they feel any shame?” A female nurse said, “They’re obviously not in a proper relationship. They were just yelling about not letting anyone take photos – probably afraid it’ll get out.” Sophie kept screaming too, then suddenly seemed to remember something. She lowered her voice and said, “Matthew, keep it down. Elizabeth works at this hospital. If she finds out about us, she’ll definitely raise hell.” Matthew heard this and snorted coldly. He said, “Don’t worry. Elizabeth isn’t on shift today. Besides, that idiot only cares about work and nothing else. What could she possibly figure out? If it weren’t for her good family background, I would’ve divorced her ages ago. And with that haggard look of hers, I have zero interest when I see her – she’s nothing like you. Ow!” Even in this situation, Matthew kept staring at Sophie’s body. I couldn’t watch anymore. Fighting back my disgust, I put on my cap and mask properly, then suited up in full protective gear before walking out. I said directly, “Prepare for surgery immediately! If we delay any longer, these two are going to have more problems. Don’t you dare dirty our hospital beds.”

Hearing this, my assistants and nurses couldn’t help but laugh, their dissatisfaction even more obvious in their eyes. They could only push Matthew and Sophie into the operating room. I brought the medical camera into the operating room ahead of time, then instructed the nurses to take photos from every angle. Matthew heard the sound and turned his head to look over while lying on the bed. He said, “What are you doing? Why are you taking photos in the operating room? This is an invasion of our privacy. I’ll sue you, believe it or not?” I sneered inwardly, but remained calm on the surface. I replied evenly, “Every angle on the operating table needs to be documented. This way we can better consult with professors and develop a reasonable surgical plan. If you’re unwilling, then forget it.” I deliberately put away the camera and turned to walk out. “Wait! We didn’t say we were unwilling.” Seeing me about to leave, Sophie hurriedly called out anxiously. She was lying on top of Matthew in a particularly awkward position. Even in this situation, she still lowered her head to persuade Matthew: “Matthew, the most important thing now is to get us separated quickly. We can’t delay until Elizabeth comes to work tomorrow. If she finds out, things will be terrible.” Matthew was still being stubborn. He roared, “How is that possible? All my family’s assets are in my name. When the time comes, I’ll just tell Elizabeth to get lost. But wait, why does your voice sound so much like Elizabeth’s?” Halfway through speaking, he turned his head to stare at me. His body was still stuck and couldn’t move, but his mouth wouldn’t stay quiet, looking at me with suspicious eyes. I froze. To change my voice and body shape, I had deliberately put cotton balls in my mouth, wore a mask, and even put on several extra lab coats to alter my figure. Could he still recognize me like this? Before I could think of a countermeasure, Matthew smiled smugly again. He said, “But looking at your reaction, you’re definitely not Elizabeth. Elizabeth is the type who gets carried away by emotions – she goes crazy and fights with me just from discovering I’m chatting with other women. If she really saw me like this now, she’d probably have fainted already.” Hearing his words, Sophie immediately burst into laughter. She said, “Yes, Matthew. Do you remember when I deliberately left a piece of underwear in your car last time? Elizabeth’s reaction was absolutely devastating. She called me crying in the middle of the night, not knowing that you were with me at that time.” Matthew couldn’t help but laugh too after hearing this, but after just a few laughs, his movements were too big and pulled at his body, making him cry out in pain again. The nurse nearby couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She said quietly, “You’re cheating and you’re actually proud of it. Your wife is so unlucky. You two are really a pair of bastards!” The nurses responsible for this surgery were all transferred from other departments. They didn’t recognize me, so naturally they didn’t know I was the Elizabeth they were talking about. Matthew endured the pain, his face flushed red. He said, “What do you know? Sophie and I share true love. Otherwise, how would we end up like this here? A man only gets like this for the woman he truly loves – he can’t get hard for women he doesn’t love. Just like me, I never touch Elizabeth!” Hearing his words, I felt nothing but disgust. Without the memories from my previous life, I never would have imagined that Matthew, who had always been so compliant with me and said I was the person he loved most in this lifetime, had actually been scheming for my assets from the very beginning. As for that pair of underwear, Matthew later explained to me that it belonged to his mother, but I never thought that was also a lie. This pair of bastards was truly disgusting! Thinking of this, the hatred in my heart grew even stronger. I took a deep breath and said, “Please lie still. I’ve already thought of the most reasonable surgical plan.” With that, I picked up the scalpel and walked directly toward where their bodies were stuck together.

“What are you doing? What do you need that scalpel for?” Matthew shouted. Seeing my actions, his face instantly changed. Terrified, he tried to sit up to stop me, but the movement aggravated Sophie’s injury. Sophie immediately screamed: “It hurts! Matthew, what are you doing?” Matthew was in agony too, letting out several cries of pain before steadying himself. He looked at me and said: “What exactly is this surgical procedure you’re talking about? Will it hurt me? And why is your scalpel so sharp? Don’t touch me with it!” I knew exactly what Matthew was worried about. So I deliberately said: “Your current situation is very dangerous. If you can’t be separated quickly, it will affect your blood circulation and cause increased intracranial pressure. Both of you could be in mortal danger.” “What?” “How is that possible?” Both of them questioned simultaneously, staring at me with wide eyes, their faces full of disbelief. I shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant: “Don’t you even know this basic medical fact? To completely separate two people who are stuck together, you have to sacrifice certain parts of one of them.” “What do you mean by that?” Matthew asked. His face changed instantly, and he pointed at me excitedly: “I’m a man! If you dare touch my manhood, I’ll never forgive you!” I spread my hands: “You should be saying that to your ‘true love.’” Sophie’s face also completely changed at this point. She turned to look at Matthew: “Matthew, I’m a woman. If something gets cut off me, how can I still be a woman?” After hearing this, Matthew immediately started sweet-talking Sophie. He said: “Don’t worry, Sophie. As soon as the surgery is over, I’ll divorce Elizabeth and marry you. No matter what you look like, I’ll still want you.” Sophie’s face looked terrible. She clenched her hands into fists: “But…” “Doctor, prepare for surgery immediately!” Matthew shouted. He glared up at me, his eyes full of threats. Matthew said: “If you can’t even perform such a simple surgery properly, I’ll file a complaint against you. Ah!” Before he could finish speaking, Sophie had already grabbed the anesthesia needle nearby and jabbed it directly into Matthew. Matthew cried out once and quickly lost consciousness. Only then did I remember that Sophie was also a nursing major, so using an anesthesia needle was child’s play for her. After administering the injection, Sophie looked at me. She said: “He’s unconscious now. I’m the only conscious patient, so you have to listen to me. I demand that the surgical procedure prioritize my health completely. If something has to be removed, then remove his.” Sophie was both anxious and uneasy, urging me to agree. I shrugged and had the nurse bring over the surgical consent form. I said: “Fine. Then sign this consent form. So you won’t regret it after the surgery is over.” Sophie quickly signed. I didn’t say anything more and soon had the anesthesiologist inject Sophie with anesthesia as well, then began the surgery. Several hours passed quickly, and the surgery was finally nearing its end. With a “plop,” I threw the removed item into the surgical tray. The surgery was officially over. At this point, Matthew’s anesthesia was also wearing off. He groggily opened his eyes and asked: “My important parts are intact, right?” I raised an eyebrow and said with a cold smile: “Of course they are.” Matthew breathed a sigh of relief and said smugly in his dazed state: “Good. Sophie loves my manhood the most.” Loves it the most? How should I tell him that it was Sophie who personally signed the consent form for me to remove his “manhood”? Just thinking about Matthew’s reaction when he fully woke up and learned this news made me want to laugh. I quickly finished the post-surgical procedures and had the nurses take them back to their room. Before long, Matthew was fully conscious. Upon opening his eyes and seeing the nurse, his first reaction was to ask: “Was the surgery successful? Am I okay? Is my manhood completely intact?” The nurse, knowing the surgical procedure, thought he was being sarcastic. So she rolled her eyes: “Your life is obviously saved, otherwise how would you still be here talking?” Matthew breathed another sigh of relief, then raised his hand to touch the wound. But the nurse stopped him: “Don’t move around! Your wound was just stitched up. You can’t touch it with your hands or it’ll get infected.” Matthew smiled: “What do you know? That’s my manhood. I have to see it with my own eyes to feel at ease.” The nurse was stunned for a moment: “See what? Didn’t your girlfriend already sign the consent form agreeing to have it removed?” “What?” Matthew’s face went pale with shock.

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My girlfriend Nora Nelson’s childhood friend Miles Brooks and I got bound by some kind of “transfer system.” Everything he eats gets transferred to my stomach. Miles started a livestream account and made tons of money by eating nonstop for twelve hours straight, while I ended up in the hospital with acute pancreatitis. When I told Nora what was happening, she looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “There’s no such weird thing in this world. If food could transfer like that, nobody would ever starve to death. I think you’re just jealous that Miles is making money from livestreaming.” After that, every time Miles went live, I’d end up hospitalized with pancreatitis, each episode so severe I could’ve died. I went to the hospital for tests, but the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Later, to compete with another streamer, Miles devoured 10 pounds of whole wheat spaghetti in one go, and I died from a ruptured spleen and internal bleeding. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment when Miles first started livestreaming. This time, I got ahead of him and ordered twenty takeout meals. Then I said, “This time, I’m eating first.” On my phone screen, Miles had just finished a whole fried chicken, and I immediately felt full in my stomach. But I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day. Looks like I was right. Even though I’d been reborn, nothing had changed. Everything Miles ate would still end up in my stomach. While I was panicking, Miles brought out a huge bowl of spaghetti with a large bottle of Coke beside it. Looking at the screen, he said, “That chicken was just an appetizer. Now I’m starting on the main course.” A voice from off-screen kept exclaiming, “Oh my God, Miles, you’re incredible! I couldn’t finish all that food in three days and nights!” Seeing Miles about to bury his face in that bowl bigger than his head and start wolfing it down, I immediately grabbed my car keys and rushed out. I absolutely couldn’t let him keep eating. Otherwise, I’d die again. On the way, I used my phone to order another twenty takeout meals. This time, I was going to figure out what the hell he was up to. My car quickly pulled up downstairs at Nora’s place. The takeout arrived around the same time I did. I grabbed the food and rushed upstairs, knocking on Nora’s door. When she saw me, Nora looked annoyed. “What are you doing here? Are you spying on me again? Miles is livestreaming right now. Don’t cause trouble! “Just leave. Miles is having a great time eating. If you scare away the viewers, I won’t forgive you!” In my previous life, after graduation, Miles moved straight into Nora’s place, making excuses like, “Just staying temporarily until I find a job and have money to move out.” I thought it was inappropriate, but Nora argued back, “I’ve known him since we were kids. If there was something between us, how could I possibly be with you?” Later, Miles decided to start livestreaming online. To support him, I followed his account too. But that’s when strange things started happening. Every time he went live, my stomach felt like it was stuffed full, swelling to the point of bursting. Eventually, I ended up hospitalized with pancreatitis. Pancreatitis is caused by eating too much, and severe cases can be fatal on the spot. I told Nora about this, but she didn’t believe me at all. She said I was just jealous of Miles. Since she was helping Miles run his account, she wouldn’t let me get close afterward, afraid I’d interfere with their money-making. Meanwhile, I was suffering terribly at home, getting taken away by ambulances multiple times. The doctors kept advising me not to risk my life over food. Later, Miles competed with another streamer. They both had to eat 10 pounds of whole wheat spaghetti at the same time, and whoever finished first would win. As a result, I died from a ruptured spleen and massive internal bleeding. After I died, I saw Miles beat the other streamer, become the most popular streamer, and embrace Nora happily. Even in death, I couldn’t understand why this was happening. So this time, even if it meant dying together with him, I wouldn’t let him succeed.

I appeared directly in the livestream, interrupting Miles’ ongoing competitive eating broadcast. I held up the twenty takeout orders in my hands and said to him, “Miles, you can’t keep eating like this. Too much food is bad for your health. Let me help you eat some of this while you take a break.” Miles looked up from his food container, completely bewildered. “Nolan, I’m livestreaming right now. Can you please not mess around?” Nolan Martin is my name. I squeezed in front of the camera, putting my face fully in view. I’d dressed up specially before coming, and I was already much better-looking than Miles anyway. Miles was still just a small-time streamer with no real fame, so his stream didn’t have many loyal fans. When everyone saw me, they started commenting in the chat that they wanted to watch me do the eating broadcast instead. Miles couldn’t curse me out on camera, so he had no choice but to get up and give me his spot. I first pulled out a box of fruit that was mostly mangoes. Miles was allergic to mangoes and couldn’t eat them at all. I bought this specifically to test whether this “transfer system” worked both ways. If I ate something he couldn’t eat, would he have an allergic reaction? I finished the entire box of mangoes, and the chat was praising how good I looked while eating. Some people even sent big gifts. I smiled at Miles. “Looks like the audience prefers watching me eat. But don’t worry, I just suddenly felt like trying this today. All these gifts are yours – I don’t want a penny.” Miles was annoyed about being upstaged. But I kept staring at his face, watching for any allergic reaction. Except for looking a bit angry, he showed no abnormal symptoms at all. Maybe one box of fruit wasn’t enough. I pulled out a mango smoothie and a huge mango cake. Miles tried to win back the audience, saying, “Nolan, my streaming career is just getting started. If you want to livestream, use your own account. Why do you have to take over my stream? Just step aside and let me eat. If that doesn’t work, we can both eat and compete to see who can eat more.” As he spoke, he reached for the spaghetti to continue stuffing it in his mouth. I snatched the spaghetti away and showed it to the camera. “I’m doing this for your own good. This spaghetti has so much chili pepper – it’s definitely going to hurt your stomach. And you want to wash it down with ice-cold Coke? Do you know how many stomach problems start exactly like this? If you want to eat something, have some clam chowder instead. That’s much healthier.” I found a container of clam chowder from the takeout and handed it over. Seeing how thoughtful I was, the audience praised me for being not only handsome but also kind. They sent more gifts and told Miles to rest, saying they all wanted to watch me eat instead. Miles wanted to ask Nora for help, but she was staring at the gift revenue on the backend, grinning happily. As far as she was concerned, as long as money was coming in, anyone could do the streaming – especially since I was earning more than Miles. I forced myself through the stomach discomfort and finished both the mango smoothie and the mango cake, but Miles still showed no reaction whatsoever. In the past, if he had even taken one bite of mango, he would immediately break out in a full-body rash and his face would swell up. Damn it! I hadn’t expected this “transfer” to be one-way only. Everything Miles ate would transfer to me, but what I ate wouldn’t transfer to him. I felt my stomach was completely full and couldn’t eat another bite, so I waved my phone at the camera. “It’s getting really late now, everyone should go to sleep. Staying up late is bad for your health. Hope to see you all again sometime!” After saying goodbye to the audience, I turned off the livestream directly. Back in my car, I pulled out a plastic bag and threw up everything I had just eaten.

By the time I drove home, it was already late at night, but I couldn’t sleep at all. If I couldn’t figure out what was causing this within a day, my life would be in constant danger. As I lay in bed tossing and turning, a sudden wave of intense discomfort hit my stomach. I dry-heaved desperately, but nothing came up. The feeling was just like being forced to eat food I hated as a kid. I rushed to the fridge and grabbed some ice cream, hoping to ease the nausea. But after eating the ice cream, I found it had no effect whatsoever. That’s when something suddenly occurred to me, and I quickly opened my phone. Sure enough, Miles was streaming again! He said to the camera, “I’m going to eat some big chunks of bacon for you guys. Hope you’ll send some gifts.” Miles held a piece of bacon in his hand, eating it with obvious enjoyment. Even through the phone screen, I felt sick to my stomach. I angrily typed in the live chat: [Stop eating! Just watching you makes me nauseous!] Seeing my comment, Miles flashed a smug smile: “Who do you think you are? Just because you tell me to stop, I have to stop? Let me see your sincerity first.” The uncomfortable feeling grew stronger and stronger. I quickly sent several super car gifts, hoping to make him stop. But after taking my gifts, Miles didn’t stop at all. Instead, he pulled out a large bowl of mayonnaise. He said, “Since you don’t like me eating bacon, I’ll have something sweet instead.” Mayonnaise was pure fat—no different from eating straight lard. He scooped it into his mouth with a big spoon while I felt so nauseous I nearly threw up blood. I couldn’t help but comment: [What the hell did you do? Why are you the one eating, but I’m the one suffering? Stop eating! Don’t eat anything else!] Seeing my anguished comments, Miles laughed even more maniacally. My stomach suddenly cramped with excruciating pain. With my last bit of strength, I dialed 911. Fortunately, the ambulance arrived in time and pulled me back from hell-like agony. Just like in my previous life, I ended up with acute pancreatitis from overeating. Looking at my medical records, the doctor said in confusion, “How could you possibly eat that much food?” I didn’t answer. I had the doctor process my discharge papers, then immediately rushed to Miles’ house. The moment the door opened, I pulled out a knife and held it to Miles’ throat. Miles jumped in shock: “Nolan, what are you doing? Calm down!” I didn’t want to waste words with him, glaring at him viciously: “I don’t have the patience to waste time with you. Tell me honestly—why are you the one eating, but I’m the one suffering?” Miles put on an innocent expression: “What are you talking about? I have no idea what you mean.” I pressed the knife a little harder: “Stop playing dumb! Talk!” Miles’ face went pale with fear: “Calm down! I’ll talk, I’ll talk!” But the next second, he suddenly screamed: “Nora, help me!” It turned out Nora had quietly snuck up behind me. She kicked me to the ground and snatched the knife from my hand. She said angrily, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Then Nora immediately started a live stream and placed thirty hamburgers on the table. She said, “You claim that everything Miles eats gets transferred to your stomach, right? Let’s have the viewers witness whether what you’re saying is true.” The viewers didn’t know what was happening and flooded the live chat with questions. Nora explained: “My boyfriend has lost his mind. He says everything Miles eats gets transferred to his stomach. I’m asking everyone to witness this today. If he keeps acting crazy, I’m breaking up with him.” Miles picked up a hamburger and bit into it without hesitation. That familiar feeling of fullness immediately hit me—my stomach couldn’t take this kind of torture anymore. The pain grew more intense, and I couldn’t hold on. I collapsed on the floor, convulsing. Someone in the live chat reminded Nora: [I think this guy is faking it. Slap him a couple times and he’ll cut it out!] Nora looked at me coldly: “If you keep up this act, I’m breaking up with you!” I clenched my fists and slowly stood up against the wall, forcing a smile as I said, “I’m not faking it. It’s just gastroenteritis acting up—stomach pain, that’s all. Don’t I have the right to get sick?” With Nora right here conducting her livestream, there was nothing I could do but leave. But Nora wouldn’t let me go and made Miles finish all the remaining burgers. She said, “Don’t deliberately cause trouble again. Consider this a lesson.” Back at the hospital, the doctor angrily asked why I was eating recklessly again, wondering if I had developed binge eating disorder, and mentioned arranging psychological treatment. I smiled bitterly. Truth was, I hadn’t eaten properly in days, yet my stomach always felt bloated. This time the doctor wouldn’t discharge me, insisting I stay for treatment. I followed the doctor’s advice and stayed put in the hospital. But within a few days, I felt Miles binge eating again. I opened his livestream and saw Nora taking him to dine out, ordering everything on the menu. Then my phone buzzed with a WhatsApp message from Miles: [Nolan, Nora took me out of town this time. There’s so much good food here. I don’t want to waste it, so I’m going to finish everything.] I was furious—I wanted to fly there immediately and kill Miles. Just then, I suddenly noticed the medication the doctor had prescribed me. In that instant, I understood the truth behind everything. The moment I figured it out, I was so thrilled I jumped right out of the hospital bed. Over the next few days, Miles livestreamed from various restaurants, causing quite a stir online. His appetite was incredible—he never purged, yet maintained his figure perfectly. Other streamers weren’t having it and challenged him one after another. Miles accepted the challenges and decided to compete against a streamer with millions of followers in an eating contest in a few days. In my previous life, I died at home right after this competition. But this time, I lay leisurely in my hospital bed, peacefully recovering and waiting for discharge. Soon came the day of the competition. Miles’s livestream instantly drew over ten thousand viewers. Ten large bowls sat before him, each filled with whole wheat pasta. When he was about to start eating, his expression turned pained, and he unconsciously put down his fork. Seeing his opponent already eating, Nora grew anxious and urged, “Miles, hurry up! He’s already started.” Miles nodded through his discomfort, preparing to eat again. But suddenly he clutched his stomach and doubled over. Just as Nora was about to ask what was wrong, Miles let out an incredibly loud fart in front of over ten thousand livestream viewers. The next second, a foul stench filled the air. Miles collapsed. Watching this scene, I couldn’t stop grinning. Soon, Nora’s call came through. She demanded, “What did you do?” I smiled slightly and said, “Take a guess.”

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I secretly joined my husband Wesley Murphy’s group chat using a fake account. That day, an announcement was posted in the group: [We’re organizing a mountain biking activity this weekend. Overnight accommodation will be arranged, with two people per room. To add mystery to the event, room assignments will be determined by drawing lots.] I didn’t understand what the announcement meant, so I curiously asked in the group: [What happens if a man and woman draw the same room?] Someone quickly replied: [You must be new here, right?] [Well, we’d have to congratulate that lucky pair!] [Isn’t that kind of thrill exactly why people join these activities?] Then the group members started getting more explicit, even describing details from the last event. [FarAhead’s condom broke last time, and he came knocking on my door to borrow one. I thought to myself, they must really be going at it hard.] [I’m so jealous of you guys who get to room with the opposite sex. Last time I roomed with another guy, and hearing all the action from the rooms on both sides made me so envious. Before the drawing this time, I’m definitely washing my hands thoroughly to try and draw someone of the opposite sex!] Someone even suggested to the admin: [I propose we separate the drawing by gender this time, ensuring every room has one man and one woman. After all, that’s what everyone’s here for.] Watching the group chat, my face turned pale and my hands trembled as I held my phone. Because Wesley had also participated in the last biking event. When he came back, he vividly told me how well-organized the activity was and how enthusiastic the biking buddies were. No wonder he seemed so satisfied and eager to continue at the time. Turns out their “enthusiasm” went that far! Just then, Wesley asked someone called “EunoiaCat” in the group. He asked: [EunoiaCat, are you going to this event?] Wesley even sent a shy emoji, clearly hoping she would participate. “EunoiaCat” immediately replied: [Don’t even mention it. My husband insists on doing some parent-child bonding activity this weekend, dragging me to go mountain climbing with our son. I just don’t get it. My kid is already 8 years old, why does he still need to take up my personal time?] I was about to say she was an irresponsible mother. But then Wesley replied: [Ugh, that’s so unfortunate. Besides being a mother, women should live for themselves too.] “EunoiaCat” instantly sent back a crying emoji. Seeing Wesley suddenly being so considerate, I was furious. Just moments ago, we had argued about who would take our daughter Olivia Murphy to her extracurricular classes. The argument started because my good friend Emily Miller, who had been away for several Christmases, finally came back. I wanted to have dinner with Emily and catch up. But Wesley looked unhappy and said, “Chloe, are your friends more important than Olivia’s education?” Chloe Turner is my name. After a pause, he continued, “You’re already a mother. How can you just think about going out with Emily all the time? Can’t you put important things first?” I asked him back then, “You’re Olivia’s father. Why won’t you ever take Olivia yourself?” Wesley looked at me incredulously and said, “Are you crazy? Me, a man, taking Olivia to dance class? That place is full of moms. What would people think of me?” Now seeing Wesley’s double standards, I was furious. At that moment, the group started taking sign-ups for the activity. Wesley quickly registered. “EunoiaCat” sent him a pouting emoji and questioned: [Wesley, you’re so heartless. Didn’t you say last time that you hoped to draw the same room as me again? Why are you still so eager even when I’m not going?] Wesley sent a kissing emoji and replied: [EunoiaCat, don’t be mad. When you have time, we’ll meet up privately.] Their interaction prompted teasing from others in the group. [EunoiaCat, looks like Wesley really satisfied you last time!] Reading the group chat, I fought back tears and steadied my breathing, my hands shaking as I also signed up for the event.

The group admin immediately asked me: [SkySiren, this is your first time joining this kind of overnight cycling event, right?] I replied coolly: [Yes.] Admin: [You’re so cold. I like that.] Someone chimed in: [What good does it do that you like her? You’d have to get picked first.] Wesley joined in the teasing: [Don’t rush. You guys don’t understand the ‘ice queen’ type. How about I ‘break her in’ first, and then…] He even sent a lewd smirking emoji. Everyone in the group chimed in: [Right, let Wesley test the waters first.] It seemed that in this cycling group, Wesley was the acknowledged “veteran.” After all, with all those nights he didn’t come home, even relying on random draws, he must have encountered all kinds of women. No wonder he would refuse to be intimate with me for several days after each cycling trip. Turns out he’d been having too many inappropriate encounters outside. The bitter emotions in my heart finally couldn’t be suppressed, and tears dripped onto my phone screen. Just then, Wesley strolled out of the bathroom. He looked at me with disdain: “What are you looking at now? Are those people teaching you how to tell if your husband loves you again? “I really don’t get it. I give you living expenses on time – where do all these grievances come from? “Whatever, I don’t want to talk to you. I’m going cycling tomorrow, so you stay home and take good care of Olivia.” I wiped away my tears and looked directly at him: “Do you absolutely have to go?” I was asking him, but also asking myself. Should I continue participating in this messy, dirty business? Wesley froze for a moment, then immediately roared in disgust: “What’s wrong with you now? “I don’t visit prostitutes, I don’t gamble – cycling is my only healthy hobby, and you’re still not satisfied? You’re an unreasonable control freak!” I stared blankly at Wesley’s twisted face, feeling like that shy 18-year-old boy who used to smile at me had shattered in an instant. I clenched my fists, using the pain of my nails digging into my palms to remind myself to stay calm, then said coldly: “Then you’d better stay ‘healthy’ forever.” “I’ll definitely outlive you!” Wesley pointed his finger at me and cursed, “If you want to be with me, we’ll continue. If not, let’s get divorced – stop giving me trouble every day!” With that, he viciously kicked over the nearby trash can: “What rotten luck, marrying such an unreasonable woman like you!” How ironic! Six years ago at our wedding, he wore a suit, held a microphone, and said he’d used up several lifetimes’ worth of luck to marry the person who’d made his heart flutter since childhood. Just then, Olivia came out of her room clutching a pillow, trembling. She looked at the garbage scattered on the floor in terror and asked in a shaky voice: “Mommy, are you fighting again?” I quickly wiped away my tears, forced a smile, and got up to pull Olivia into my arms. I said: “No, we were just rehearsing a play.”

Wesley didn’t continue his outburst. Instead, he shot me a warning glare before turning and heading to his study. With my eyes red and swollen, I quickly packed a few clothes, preparing to take Olivia to my parents’ house. As we were about to leave, Wesley saw me. He glanced dismissively at the luggage in my hands and sneered, “Running back to your parents’ again? How many days this time? Don’t you find all this back-and-forth exhausting? You’re a married woman now. Having such an immature daughter must really upset your parents.” I didn’t want to argue with him in front of Olivia. So I gripped Olivia’s hand tightly and walked out without looking back. Wesley’s mocking laughter followed me. He said, “Perfect. Saves me the trouble of keeping you updated on my whereabouts. I really don’t know where you picked up all these bad habits.” That evening, the group chat was unusually active. Everyone was excited about the next day’s activities. Someone asked Wesley: [Wesley, how come you have so much free time to chat today? Isn’t your wife nagging you?] Wesley was in a great mood and quickly replied: [You guys should learn from me. I just pick a random fight with her, and that stupid woman runs back to her parents’ with Olivia, just like always. This time I found the perfect excuse – no way she can complain about it.] I was struck by the realization that it only takes a few years for someone to go from being “my beloved” to “that woman.” Then “EunoiaCat” said to Wesley in the group chat: [Wesley, we’re really on the same wavelength. My son got taken to his grandma’s by his dad. I just brought up everything his mom did a few years ago, and then I didn’t follow them.] Someone in the chat stirred things up: [What are you two implying? Are you publicly telling each other that tonight’s convenient for a date?] Wesley and “EunoiaCat” stopped responding in the group chat. They’d obviously moved to private messages. I quietly took screenshots of the chat conversation, then opened our home security system, waiting patiently like a cat watching for a mouse to enter its trap. Sure enough, half an hour later, Wesley happily left the house. Five minutes after that, he walked in with a woman in his arms. My stomach churned, and I couldn’t help but dry heave. She actually delivered herself right to my doorstep and dared to come into my home! From the moment they entered, they were urgently embracing and kissing, then quickly tearing off each other’s clothes. A blouse and underwear scattered on the floor. Finally, the two of them walked into the master bedroom in each other’s arms. I bit my lower lip until it bled, suppressing the urge to rush home. I saved the security footage and sent the screenshots to Emily as well. I texted her: [Emily, cancel everything you have tomorrow. I’ve got exclusive news for you.] After all, catching just one dead mouse was never what a cat really wanted. The next day, I arrived early at the cycling group’s meeting point. Using sun protection as an excuse, I covered my entire body from head to toe, not leaving even a bit of facial skin exposed. The moment Wesley saw me, a flash of surprise crossed his face. But his attention was quickly drawn to how my cycling outfit hugged my figure. Wesley extended his hand toward me and said, “SkySiren? I’m Wesley.” The desire in his eyes was practically overflowing. This scene overlapped with what I’d seen in yesterday’s surveillance footage, making me feel nauseous again. Wesley quickly pulled out his water bottle and handed it to me, asking with concern, “Are you okay? If you can’t keep up later, just signal me.” I let out a cold laugh, thinking to myself: “First meeting and he’s already comfortable sharing a water bottle with a woman. Disgusting.” Someone came over to stir things up: “Wesley, you’re starting already? What if you two don’t get drawn for the same room later? Won’t all this effort be wasted?” Another person chimed in: “You’ve got it wrong. Wesley’s playing the ’emotional card.’ If they don’t get matched, he can ask her out privately later.” That person gave Wesley a knowing look. Wesley pretended to scold him: “Don’t scare the newcomer.” But the guy didn’t care: “Everyone knows what mindset we’re all here with. What’s the point of hiding it? I don’t have your skills, so I can only rely on luck. But honestly, that uncertainty and mystery is pretty addictive.” Everyone was excited throughout the ride, and we quickly reached the mountain lodge, then eagerly began today’s room drawing. Those drawing numbers only knew their own room numbers. The key cards would be split into two. Under the team leader’s direction, men and women would enter the rooms in separate groups. I heard that initially, women went in first to create a sense of “anticipation” for the men. Later they changed it so women went in second, saying it was more thrilling that way. Anyway, in these people’s eyes, women were just tools for entertainment. And yet, plenty of women willingly accepted all of this. I walked down the hallway with my key card and noticed several mountain bikes leaning against doorways. The surroundings were very quiet. I pulled out my phone and texted Emily: [Emily, how’s your preparation going?] Emily replied: [OK.] Just then, an explosive dance track suddenly blared from downstairs. A group of elderly folks were arguing with the front desk staff. One man said: “What gives you the right to stop us from dancing? We’re guests here too. Since we paid money, you have to serve us. If you keep giving us trouble, we’ll trash your place!” Someone in the group chat started complaining: [Damn! Where did this bunch of hicks come from? I was just getting in the mood when that music scared the hell out of me.] Someone joked: [That’s because you’re no good. Who’s rooming with you tonight? She’s so unlucky.] That person angrily replied: [Bullsh*t! Does yours even work? Without pills, you’d just be staring at her all night!] Someone else asked: [Who’s rooming with SkySiren? She’s new, so she must be excited.] Then Wesley suddenly sent a message: [Don’t even mention it. My roommate still hasn’t come in. Who the hell drew room 2115?] Reading their chat, I couldn’t help but smile. What perfect timing today turned out to be.

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Three years after I died, my mom sent me a two-hundred-dollar allowance. Three years ago, the first time I ever asked her for money, my mom blurted out, “Sometimes, I just think you’re putting on an act.” “Is a dollar-menu meal really that unsanitary? Can’t a discount store winter coat keep you warm?” “At the end of the day, you’re just more delicate than your sister.” Later, I needed two hundred dollars for urgent medical treatment for an acute stomach perforation. She immediately blocked me, cutting off all contact with me and a bunch of relatives. “Don’t bother with me anymore,” she declared. “I’m clearly an incompetent mother, incapable of providing my daughter with a lavish life.” But for my sister, who had just started high school, she spared no expense, renting a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog had its own room. Finally, on the day my sister was celebrated as the top student in the state. That’s when she remembered to unblock me and sent over two hundred dollars for my allowance. “It’s just two hundred dollars, isn’t it? Is it really worth holding a grudge against your family for three whole years?” But she didn’t know. That snowy night, on the very day I suffered the stomach perforation, I froze to death because I had no money for the hospital. Right now, my mom was surrounded by reporters at our front door, all because Seraphina became the top student. If someone hadn’t brought it up, she probably would’ve forgotten she even had another daughter. So, after three years, she finally bothered to unblock me and symbolically sent me two hundred dollars. Seeing no response from me, her face hardened instantly, and her phone clacked with furious typing. “Speak up. Don’t act like you’re dead.” “If you don’t want it, send it back.” Those cold, dismissive words dragged me back to that bone-chilling snowy night. I wanted to tell her I was already dead. Frozen to death, in that cheap winter coat she’d bought me. Winters up North are truly brutal. Without proper hospitalization, I just drifted off for a moment and never woke up again. But now, no one could hear my voice anymore. My mother, losing patience, finally dialed my number. The next second, she froze in disbelief. My phone number had been disconnected for a long time due to unpaid bills. Hearing the cold automated message, a flicker of panic crossed her tightly furrowed brow. She immediately sent a SnapChat message, fuming, “Oh, great! So now you change your number without telling your family, huh?” “All because of that two hundred dollars back then?!” Her frantic demeanor instantly piqued the reporters’ curiosity. But before a microphone could be extended, Seraphina, sharp-eyed, quickly interrupted. She bit her lip for the camera, “My sister is incredibly stubborn. She’s been mad at Mom for three years, all because Mom didn’t send her a birthday gift.” “In these three years, she hasn’t come home once, nor has she even called Mom or Dad.” Tears welled up as she spoke, and she slowly looked up at the most photogenic angle. “If I could, I’d like to apologize to my sister on Mom’s behalf.” My mom paused, then her eyes welled up, understanding Seraphina’s unspoken cue. She willingly took all the blame herself. “You can only blame me for being inadequate,” she wailed. “I couldn’t provide your sister with a privileged life.” “It’s all my fault.” With that, she let out a loud, heartbroken cry in front of millions of online viewers. Her anguished performance quickly filled the live chat with hateful comments. All of them were condemning me. But facing all of it, I was already beyond caring. After all, on that snowy night three years ago, I had been bound by some unseen force to stay by these two women. I watched, helpless, as my mom used the “tuition money” she claimed she couldn’t afford to rent that three-bedroom apartment. She used the two hundred dollars she’d saved from me to buy Seraphina a new puppy. And because she worried the puppy wouldn’t have enough space in the living room, she converted one of the bedrooms into a doggy room. Afterward, she even worked three jobs, just so Seraphina could eat lobster and crab to “boost her health.” And all the hardships she endured because of it, those somehow became my fault. She would sigh repeatedly to Seraphina, “If only your sister were more considerate, Mom wouldn’t have to work so hard.” That night, I cried until all my tears dried up. Only then did I understand that no matter how much I scrimped and saved, or how many ways I found to make her happy with the money I saved, In her heart, I was worth far less than a cheap peeler Seraphina had given her over a decade ago. Now, I was utterly disillusioned with them. I wouldn’t let such trivial things upset me anymore. I only wished to be reborn soon, to finally sever this abominable family tie. But I never imagined that before the disgust in my heart could fully digest,

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I got a SnapChat from my husband, asking me to open the door. But he was just in the bedroom, taking a shower, right? His phone was under the covers. So who sent that message? *Thud!* I heard something heavy hit the floor downstairs. Then, another video came through. My hands trembled as I tapped to open it, and a chill went down my spine. ### It was precisely midnight when I got a text from my husband: “Maya, can you open the door for me?” I glanced at Liam, who was showering in the bathroom. He always loved playing these twisted games to scare me. Last time, he hid outside the door, knocking just enough to make me almost call 911. The time before that, he hid under the bed, pretending he wasn’t coming home, only to deliberately touch my hand when I reached for the floor in my sleep. My heart nearly burst out of my chest, and I almost grabbed a knife to defend myself before he crawled out from under the bed with a smug, “Gotcha!” These kinds of antics were endless. So, this time, I just assumed he was at it again. “Crawl in yourself!” I snapped back. The “typing” bubble appeared, then vanished. Just then, I heard a phone ringing. Not mine. Following the sound, I pulled back the covers and found Liam’s phone. The caller ID showed “Boss.” Right at that moment, Liam called from the bathroom, “Maya, who’s calling?” A terrifying question hit me. If Liam’s phone was here, then who sent me that message, pretending to be him? “Maya? Why aren’t you answering?” Another message popped up. “I’m in.” My hairs stood on end. In? How did they get in? *Thud!* I heard something heavy hit the floor downstairs. Then, another video came through. My hands trembled as I tapped to open it, and my blood ran cold. The video was a recording of our living room downstairs. I’m a doctor and my husband’s a corporate executive. We’re pretty comfortable, living in a nice two-story detached house in a new development. It’s still pretty quiet with not many houses occupied yet. But I never imagined we’d be targeted by a burglar right after moving in! The video was still shaky, clearly showing someone moving downstairs. Soon, they reached the staircase leading to the second floor. Through the reflection in a glass pane, I saw a pale hand, smeared with dirt. They stood there, perfectly still, not moving up. In the dead silence, the chirping of crickets outside sounded unnervingly loud. Suddenly, the figure bent their body at an impossible 90-degree angle, their torso contorting in a sickening way. The phone instantly flipped, recording the stairs, and allowing me to see their face. A face covered in blood, a mouth ripped open to the ears, slowly crawling up the stairs in an utterly grotesque manner. I screamed, throwing my phone, and scrambled out of bed to lock the front door. Then I rushed back to grab my phone and dial 911. My hands were shaking so badly I messed up the passcode several times. Just as the call connected, I heard heavy footsteps outside my bedroom door. The sound stopped right outside. A voice, identical to Liam’s, echoed from the other side. “Maya, open the door for me.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, terrified to make a sound. But of course, Liam chose that exact moment to turn on the shower, the water blasting loudly. The person outside heard it. Suddenly, they flew into a rage, kicking the door with thunderous *bangs*. The shower went silent. Liam, hearing the commotion, threw on his robe and stepped out, only to find me crumpled on the floor, my face ghostly pale. “Why are you on the floor?” “Don’t say anything!” I tried to stop him, but it was too late. The door shuddered precariously under violent kicks, accompanied by a torrent of curses. “Bitch! Bitch! I came for you, why won’t you open the door?!” Liam heard it too. His voice was sharp with warning as he told the person to leave or he’d call the police. The outside suddenly went quiet. “Don’t worry, it’s probably just some lunatic.” “No, it’s not. It’s not human! Look at this video! Its face is covered in blood, crawling up the stairs, and its voice is exactly like yours!” My hands shaking, I showed him the video. But after watching it, his expression turned strange. “This is just a video of the living room downstairs? Have you been too stressed lately? Are you seeing things?” “What? No! Look closely! The reflection in the glass!” ###

But when I looked, there was nothing there. Just a video of the staircase. How could this be? Liam comforted me, then went to call the police, while I sat on the bed, my mind a complete mess. I saw it clearly. How could it just vanish? “You’re just tired. Get some rest. I’ll warm up some milk for you.” I barely heard him, completely lost in my own world, until I heard the sound of the lock clicking. My head snapped up, the door already ajar. I shrieked, “Don’t open it!” But it was too late. The door burst open. A dark shadow darted out, dragging him into the darkness. “Ahhhhh!” A bloodcurdling scream, followed by tearing and gnashing sounds from outside the room, and Liam’s weakening voice telling me to run. Fear, guilt, and terror enveloped and crushed me. The sounds grew fainter, then disappeared. The scent of blood filled the air. I was frozen in place, terrified. I watched, horrified, as something dark squirmed and slowly moved towards me. The room’s light illuminated its form. Blood stained its mouth, and it was still chewing something. It spoke in Liam’s voice: “One more.” As it lunged, I snapped back to reality, slamming the door shut and locking it with incredible speed. The door was struck with a massive *thud*. With the danger contained, I collapsed onto the floor, my body limp. Thinking of my dead husband, I was heartbroken. I couldn’t understand how things had come to this! The footsteps outside were chaotic and rapid, as if pacing back and forth. I was still alive; it wouldn’t give up. I silently prayed for the police to arrive quickly. But the next second, a crisp clicking sound of a lock echoed in the room. To my horror, the lock was being manipulated by an invisible force, twisting and turning. I watched, frozen, as the doorknob turned. I was like a statue, staring blankly. The door opened, revealing that terrifying, grotesque face. My neck was bitten through, blood splattering onto the ceiling. In my last moments, I saw its mouth full of sharp teeth, tearing and devouring my flesh. It was 11:40 PM. I gasped, shooting upright in bed. My hand flew to my neck. The skin was smooth, no trace of a severed throat, yet the agonizing pain of being bitten and torn still lingered in my body. What happened? Wasn’t I dead? Was everything that just happened a dream? “I’m going to take a shower. Are your things packed? Our flight’s first thing in the morning, don’t want to be scrambling then.” I stared blankly at Liam, standing perfectly fine before me. The image of him dying, telling me to run, flashed in my mind, and my eyes welled up. I rushed forward, hugging him tightly. “Liam, thank goodness you’re alive!” “What nonsense are you talking about? Am I supposed to be dead?” He hugged me back, teasing. I quickly covered his mouth. “Ptooey, ptooey! Don’t even say ‘dead’!” “Alright, alright, whatever you say. I know you can’t live without me, but I just got home from work, all sweaty. My dearest wife, can you please let me take a shower first?” I gave him an annoyed look, telling him to go. Looking at my perfectly fine husband, I could only believe that everything that had just happened was a dream. I smoothed my frantically beating heart, trying to calm it, and pulled out my phone to scroll through some TikToks and relax. My gaze suddenly landed on the time displayed: 11:50 PM. But I distinctly remembered it being midnight! I’d been so caught up in my relief, I hadn’t noticed the time was off. If it had been a dream, I should have woken up *after* midnight. And my conversation with Liam just now had happened *before* 11:50 PM, but in the dream, Liam was *already showering*. That means his words wouldn’t have been said at this time! I touched my neck again. The pain felt too real. ###

It wasn’t a dream! Time had moved forward! That monster was real, it just hadn’t appeared yet! The realization sent a wave of extreme panic through me! I didn’t want to experience that pain again; I didn’t want Liam to die. I had to find where it got into the house before it came! But where? It was already 11:55 PM. Not much time left! As I was still pondering, the sound of water from the bathroom interrupted me, reminding me that the main doors and windows were all locked. How had that monster gotten in? Just as I was racking my brain, I suddenly remembered! Since we’d just moved in, there was a small, semi-enclosed balcony outside the kitchen. For aesthetic reasons, the kitchen door was a decorative wooden one with a traditional latch lock, not a modern security door like the main entrance. But for extra safety, I had also installed a metal security gate inside the kitchen door. However, I’d never actually locked that gate; it would be easy to pry open! With this thought, I quickly threw off the covers and got out of bed, opening the bedroom door and flicking on the stairwell light. The warm-toned lights illuminated the stairs, but I still didn’t have the courage to go down. I turned and closed the door, then walked to the bathroom and knocked. “Liam, I’m going downstairs for a minute.” “Okay.” I turned and stepped onto the stairs. My heart, which had just calmed, began to pound violently again. An inexplicable tension gripped me. It wasn’t in yet at this time. I silently urged myself on, rushing downstairs. I quickly reached the ground floor, turned on the living room lights, then headed into the kitchen. I locked the metal gate securely, and finally, my racing heart settled. Just then, the clock struck midnight. My phone buzzed on cue, but seeing the message, I felt like I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. “I’m in.” Suddenly, I felt a pair of malicious eyes staring at me from the darkness, like a wolf tracking its prey. My breathing became heavy, and I slowly backed away, retreating out of the kitchen. I had to escape! I couldn’t stay here. I slowly backed up to the edge of the kitchen, with the brightly lit living room behind me. If I could just get back to the bedroom! But before I could step out, a video message arrived. The video showed a door being opened. The living room lights came on right after the door was closed. The phone’s owner retreated behind the door, still recording. I watched myself close the door, pause in the kitchen to check my phone, then slowly and fearfully back out. For a moment, my breathing stopped. My eyes stiffly shifted to the door on my left. A dark shadow was clearly hiding behind the frosted glass door. My legs turned to jelly. My survival instincts screamed at me, and I spun around, accelerating up the stairs. In that same instant, I heard the door being pushed open, and heavy footsteps thudded behind me, getting closer and closer! Tears streamed down my face. I was practically tumbling up the stairs. The sound of sinister laughter closed in behind me. I’d just rounded the first flight of stairs, heading for the second, when it grabbed my hair, yanking me around to face it. Its sharp teeth once again sank into my neck, blood gushing out. Its eyes reflected my terrified face. In the last second before my voice died, I heard Liam’s pained, furious scream. I woke up again, and it was eight in the morning. My hand was on the doorknob, ready for work. I checked my phone; the date was still today. No matter how many times it looped, that monster would still come for me tonight. Liam and I would still die horribly! But at least today, time had been set back by over ten hours. This was my chance. If we just found somewhere to hide, it wouldn’t find us! Excited by this possibility, I eagerly opened my phone and told Liam everything that would happen tonight, and about the previous two loops. Predictably, he didn’t believe me. He just thought I was too stressed. ###

“I have a meeting soon. I might be home a little late tonight. Just get your things packed. We’re flying to the Netherlands tomorrow morning. You’ve just been working too hard, you’re talking nonsense.” Looking at the disconnected call, I felt helpless. Based on the previous two times, he would still come home. I couldn’t leave him alone and hide by myself. Frustrated, I thought about calling the police. But as I was about to dial, a SnapChat message popped up. It was from our neighborhood group chat. “Heard someone around here got robbed, and both people died!” “No, they didn’t die. Heard the burglar just got in when the husband found him. The burglar had a knife and stabbed him several times. The commotion drew the wife downstairs, and she got stabbed too. Both are seriously injured and are still in the ICU.” “That family just moved in. The houses around them are mostly empty, only one other family lives nearby, but they’re far, so they only heard faint sounds and didn’t pay much attention.” Home invasion, two people. I inexplicably thought of Liam and me. Knowing it couldn’t be us, I still asked in the group: “When was this home invasion?” Someone replied immediately. “About a week ago. You probably hadn’t moved in yet.” A week ago. Then it had nothing to do with me. I felt a pang of pity for the people in the ICU. You never know what tomorrow or an accident will bring first. But now, I didn’t have time for sorrow, because in a little over ten hours, I would also face death. This time, I didn’t know if I’d get another chance. I didn’t call the police. The reason was, how would I even explain? “I’ve died twice, someone’s trying to kill me, send help at midnight?” No sane person would believe that. I decided to wait until tonight to call 911. My immediate priority was to check the house inside and out, locking all windows and doors. For lunch, I ordered DoorDash. It was from a place I frequently ordered from, and I knew their delivery driver well. But strangely, today’s driver was wearing a mask and sunglasses, completely covered. “Your order.” His voice was a bit hoarse. Since I knew him, I asked, concerned: “What’s wrong with your voice?” “Caught a cold recently.” As he handed me the food, I distinctly felt him staring at me for several seconds, until I closed the door. Normally, I wasn’t a meticulous person, but after the last two incidents, I was clearly more alert. I deliberately stood by the door, trying to listen for his retreating footsteps, but heard nothing. Just silence. That eerie feeling crept up on me again, and my skin crawled. Just as I was about to give in and call the police, I finally heard footsteps fading into the distance. I sighed in relief. After the tension, I had no appetite, so I just placed the DoorDash on the dining table, intending to scroll through some TikToks to distract myself. However, about ten minutes later, DoorDash called me. “Hello, your delivery has arrived. It’s at your door, please come out and get it.” I was confused. “I didn’t order anything? Are you sure you have the right address?” “No, the address is correct. You ordered from Zhou’s Wonton, right?” That single sentence froze me completely. My gaze fell upon the food box on the table. If my DoorDash was only just arriving now, then who delivered the food earlier? “I hung your order on the door. Remember to grab it.” Suddenly, I didn’t dare to look inside that DoorDash box. Nor did I dare to open the door. *Ding-dong.* A SnapChat message popped up. It was from Liam. “Your fruit delivery arrived. Remember to eat it.”

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They called me a bastard, a filthy whore. Until I ranked first in the entire city and got into college, all the insults and rumors stopped dead. My biological parents, who’d sold me away, suddenly showed up, fighting over who got to pay my tuition. My ex-boyfriend, who’d dumped me a month before college applications, came crawling back, begging me to get back together. But for them, all I felt was hatred. —— During the first semester of my senior year, a video went viral at our school. In the video, my foster father had his arm around my waist, his lips brushing my cheek, and I was smiling, looking all sweet and innocent. That ten-second clip exploded like a bomb, spreading like wildfire throughout the entire school and our small town. They hurled the vilest, most venomous insults at me and my foster father. To prove my innocence, my foster father took his own life. He jumped from the seventh floor, leaving a suicide note with just a few lines: “You can curse me, but don’t you dare curse my daughter. I’m using my death to prove that my daughter and I are completely innocent. I hope these rumors die with me, and you stop slandering her.” My foster father died, but the rumors didn’t end there; they only grew worse. The school called me in, urging me to take a leave of absence or drop out entirely. They said the scandal had too much of a social impact and was damaging the school’s reputation. My boyfriend, Blake, silently cut all ties with me. No matter how many times I tried to reach him, my messages vanished into a black hole. The cold mockery and relentless verbal abuse from everyone around me suffocated me. During that time, I desperately hoped the police would catch the person who spread the video and give me justice. But who would’ve thought the one spreading the rumors was Chloe, my own deskmate? She’d always seemed nice; we got along well. She was a top student, the teachers’ darling. * When the police arrived, Chloe, guilt written all over her face, ran to the rooftop and threatened to jump. Her stunt drew a crowd below, all staring up, eager for drama. She cried, claiming it wasn’t intentional, begging for my forgiveness. Her tears were dripping with fakery. Her suicide attempt was nothing more than a cheap stunt. But I became the target of everyone’s blame. They said she was innocent, and I should be more forgiving. They said, “You’re classmates, it’s not worth taking it to this extreme.” They said… They once again used words to corner me. When the rumors first started, they hadn’t said a single word in my defense. Now, they wanted me to be forgiving. My entire world crumbled. 2 I dropped to my knees in front of Chloe, my eyes burning red. “I forgive you,” I choked out. “Just give me my dad back. Please, just give him back, and I’ll do anything.” The police, the teachers, even the principal, they all fell silent. Chloe froze for a moment, then started wailing again, claiming she’d jump, a life for a life. But her hands were clamped tight around the railing. She wasn’t actually trying to die; she was using death as a weapon to force my forgiveness. “Then go ahead and die!” I roared, my mind consumed by a single thought: *If she doesn’t jump, I’ll push her.* The police seemed to read my mind. One officer grabbed me, while the others quickly pulled Chloe down. What truly crushed me was that she received no punishment. A week later, she was back in class as if nothing happened, while I was expelled. The final, crushing blow was finding out Blake and Chloe were together. A picture of them, fingers intertwined, was posted on the school gossip blog. The title read: “A Match Made in Heaven.” It was only then that I learned they were childhood sweethearts. Once again, I felt like a clown, a pathetic laughingstock. That night, I pressed a blade to my wrist. The cold, sharp blade. The cold, relentless rumors. There was no difference; both carved deep into my heart. What saved me was a phone call. My foster father’s close friend, Uncle George, called. He told me there was money Mr. Davis had left for my college education. A hundred thousand dollars – his entire military pension. My foster father often said, “When my girl gets into college, her dad will personally take her there, so she can experience the college vibe.” Mr. Davis never had much education or money. His biggest wish was for me to get into college, find a good job, so I wouldn’t have to struggle like he did. If I died, wouldn’t that give those scum exactly what they wanted? No! I had to live, get into college with the best possible grades, and fulfill my foster father’s wish. As for the trash who hurt me? Once college applications are over, I’ll deal with them, one by one. * Not long after, I transferred to a really rundown high school. It wasn’t far from my old school, just across the street. In this slightly dilapidated school, where I could often smell the salty sea breeze, I studied like a maniac. During the first mock exams, no surprise, I came in first place in the entire school. Being number one in a dump of a school didn’t mean much, but my score was only twenty points shy of the top student at the elite high school next door. My grades were enough to shock my homeroom teacher. Mr. Henderson, my bald homeroom teacher, looked over my exam seven or eight times. Finally, he just said, “You didn’t cheat, did you?” My gaze was steady as I told him, “Next time, I’ll be ranked first in the city.” Mr. Henderson didn’t say anything, but that afternoon, he went into town and photocopied a mountain of study materials, filling his little used car. He brought them all to my house and said earnestly, “Study hard. You *will* get into college.” This rundown high school had only seen a handful of students get into a four-year college since it was founded. He had high hopes for me. I nodded and thanked him. * By the end of my senior year’s first semester, my grades had already matched the top student at the elite high school. Most people suspected I’d cheated my way to those grades. I didn’t explain, didn’t even acknowledge them. In those six months, I’d learned an emotion called indifference. During the winter break, when we had a seven-day holiday, Blake, out of nowhere, called and invited me to meet him. I wasn’t about to invite bad luck during the holidays, so I blocked his number and ignored him. 3 He tried calling from different numbers, so I just took the battery out of my phone. After the break, seniors had to go back to school. Blake shamelessly ambushed me at the school gates, starting with, “Why are you ignoring me?” I didn’t want to become a public spectacle at the school gates, so I strode away. My indifference clearly angered him. He grabbed my wrist, making me stumble two steps. The books in my arms scattered across the ground, drawing the attention of passersby. I hadn’t wanted to get angry or make a scene, but he pushed me too far. I swung my arm back and slapped him across the face. The sound was sharp and loud. My hand stung a little. Not far away, Chloe ran over, her voice sharp. “What are you doing hitting him? Are you crazy?” I ignored them, crouching down to pick up my books, one by one. Blake took a deep breath, feigning magnanimity. “I’ll let the slap go. I just want to ask you one thing: are we really over?” Seriously, some people have no shame. They’re practically invincible. When the rumors first started, he vanished without a trace, not even a single word of comfort, terrified I’d stain his perfect image. Now that things had quieted down, he had the gall to show up at my door. I was truly pathetic for being so blind. “Stop acting like the tragic hero of some lame drama! Get lost, you’re making me sick!” After letting out my anger, I clutched my books, ready to leave. Behind me, Chloe suddenly shouted, “I know you hate me! What you and your foster father did… I shouldn’t have filmed it, it’s all my fault! But Blake truly loves you, how can you treat him like this?” Her words were like a knife, twisting deep into my heart. Everyone around us heard her shout and looked up. Their gazes fixated on me, filled with shock and disgust. The thread of sanity in my mind snapped instantly. I grabbed the book in my hand and hurled it at her. Blake jumped in front of Chloe, and the book hit him. Hiding behind him, Chloe looked at me with the smug grin of a victor, utterly triumphant. It was as if she was saying: “Look at you, you loser.” I was enraged, lunging at her like a madwoman. Suddenly, a tall figure stepped in front of me. I slammed into his chest, my nose throbbing, tears stinging my eyes. “Don’t lose your composure when you’re upset.” A clear, cool voice, like a fresh breeze, gently entered my ears. I slowly calmed down and looked up. The man radiated a gentle aura, his handsome features hinting at maturity. He was a stranger, yet he gave me a strange sense of security. “Isn’t that Dr. Alex Stone, our new school doctor? He’s so hot!” “More than hot, I heard his family is loaded. He’s just here at our school temporarily, waiting to get into a big hospital.” Three girls nearby whispered, their eyes full of admiration as they looked at the man. Seeing me fighting back tears, Dr. Stone took off his light jacket and gently draped it over my head. In that small, dark space, a sense of safety enveloped me. I forced myself to regain control. “You two aren’t students here. Get out of here now, don’t cause any more trouble!” Dr. Stone warned them sternly. 4 Perhaps because Dr. Stone didn’t look much older than us, Blake didn’t take him seriously, responding arrogantly, “This is between her and me. It’s none of your business.” Dr. Stone glanced at Blake, then said calmly, “I’ve already called your principal. If you’re not gone in five minutes, he’ll come personally to escort you out.” This was a critical time for college applications and tests; no senior wanted to cause trouble right then. Blake clenched his jaw, furious but helpless, and stormed off. By now, my emotions had stabilized. I took off the jacket and called out loud enough for everyone to hear: “Chloe, you deliberately filmed that video of me and my dad to make it look twisted, just to slander me and get me kicked out, all so you could get back with Blake, right? Well, let me tell you this now: karma’s a bitch!” Chloe probably hadn’t expected me to confront her head-on. Her face flushed, then paled. She finally managed to stammer, “Your foster father died to cover up your dirty little secret…” Before she could finish, I cut her off. “I dare you to come with me to a clinic and get a medical exam to prove no inappropriate contact ever happened! Would you dare admit you’re the one who spread the rumors? That’s three to seven years in prison, and you won’t get away with it!” Chloe’s face instantly went paper-white. She stammered for a while, unable to say anything coherent. Blake, feeling sorry for Chloe, pointed at me. “Enough! Are you trying to force Chloe to jump off a roof twice? Can’t you just be kind?” Kindness? What even *is* kindness?

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The night before my sister was set to leave the country, her birth parents, who’d abandoned her years ago, suddenly showed up, demanding to be recognized. To keep her from being sidetracked, I secretly sent them away. But on their way back, they died in a car crash. Later, my sister became a renowned violinist, touring the world, showered with glory and applause. And I, on my way to one of her performances, was hit by a car and died. Before I took my last breath, she told me I had “killed” her birth parents. “After all these years, I’ve finally avenged them!” She didn’t know that they had only sought her out to extort money for her brother. And their car accident? They were trying to stage an accident for money, but they got unlucky and stumbled into a drunk driver… Given a second chance at life, I decided to give up my savior complex. I’d send her straight to reunite with her parasitic birth parents. “Where’s Daisy? Tell her to get out here! Just because she’s hitting the big time, doesn’t mean she can forget her own folks!” “If she won’t show, fine. But she still needs to pay for her brother’s school. Your family is loaded, so just wire us two hundred thousand, okay? Right into this account!” A middle-aged couple shoved a slip of paper with a bank account number into my hand. The raw greed in their eyes sent a shiver down my spine! I’d been reborn. To the day before my sister, Harper Reed, was supposed to leave for abroad. Harper was adopted by my parents and me from an orphanage. This couple in front of me? They were her birth parents, the ones who had abandoned her when she was just a baby. Our family, however, had nurtured her into a “violin prodigy.” Over the past decade, she’d won countless awards and was now accepted into the world-renowned Juilliard School. She was set to fly to America any day now. On this exact day in my previous life, to avoid disrupting Harper’s plans, I had taken it upon myself to chase away these selfish, greedy “vampires.” Then, the day after Harper left for abroad, they died in a car crash. I only found out later that they had tried to pull an insurance scam – faking an accident to extort cash after failing to get money from me. But they got unlucky and stumbled into a drunk driver. They were crushed to death on the spot… Years later, Harper returned, transforming into a world-famous violinist. She won international awards and held world tours. Everywhere she went, she was met with flowers and applause, basking in endless glory. When she came back to the States for a tour, she invited me to her first concert. But on my way to the venue, a large truck suddenly slammed into my car. As I lay dying, her call came through: “Five years ago, your self-righteousness killed my parents. Today, I’m using the same method to get my revenge!” “Chloe, do you know? My greatest wish in life was to find my birth parents, and *you* stole that chance from me!” If that’s what she wanted, then this time, I would grant her wish. I slipped the paper back into the couple’s hand. “Oh, so you’re Harper’s birth parents? She’s been looking for you too! But she’s in class right now. Please wait here for a bit. I’ll have her come find you as soon as class is over, and you can talk to her directly about whatever you need.” My “enthusiasm” thrilled them. They bobbed their heads like crazy, ecstatic at my apparent warmth. But first, I needed to do something. When I told Harper the news, she was so excited she could barely speak. “Really? Are they really my birth parents? How did they find me? Why are they only coming now…?” I scoffed inwardly. It was because she was constantly on TV that they had followed the trail and found her. As for why they were only “reconnecting” now? She would soon find out. “Do you remember what they look like? And they said your original name was Daisy Thompson?” I asked deliberately. She shook her head. She was barely three when she was abandoned, so it was understandable she didn’t remember. That was the root of her obsession. What you can’t have, always seems the best. But the name “Daisy Thompson” still brought a flicker of unease to her face. The reunion played out exactly as I expected. The three embraced, crying floods of tears and pouring out their hearts, a seemingly touching scene. But listening closely, Harper spoke of missing her family, while her birth parents’ every other sentence was about money. Finally, her birth father dropped the act. “Daisy, you’re living the good life now, but we’re still struggling. Especially your brother; he got into high school, but we don’t have the money to send him. He’s about to drop out, and it’s all because your mom and I are useless…” Harper was in the throes of emotion, but hearing this, she immediately turned into the picture of a dutiful daughter. “Mom, Dad, it’s all my fault. I’ve been unfilial, making you suffer all these years. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of my brother’s education. I won’t let him drop out!” Her birth father looked relieved, instantly pulling that slip of paper from his pocket. “I knew it, Daisy wouldn’t abandon us. Your brother will be so happy when he hears this. Here’s our bank account number, you can just wire the money directly.” She took the paper without hesitation, agreeing readily. “No problem, I’ll send it right over.” “But…” She paused. I thought she was finally suspicious, but then she said, “Mom, Dad, my name is Harper Reed now. Please don’t call me Daisy anymore. It’s… not pretty.” I had underestimated her foolishness. But the name ‘Harper Reed’? You won’t be worthy of it much longer. I watched them coldly, sending a text to my parents: “You can move.”

Harper quickly discovered her account was frozen. Humiliated and furious, she called my parents, demanding answers. My parents calmly told her to “come home.” At home, my parents, our lawyer, Mr. Davies, and I were waiting for her. Half an hour later, Harper returned. She burst through the door, yelling at us, “Who froze my account? That’s *my* money! What gives you the right? Unfreeze it, now!” I finally snapped. A stinging slap landed squarely on her face. “You’ve been living the good life for too long, haven’t you? You’ve forgotten your place. *Your* money? Maybe you need some fresh air to clear your head! What makes you think you can even say that?” This was the first time she’d been hit since she came into our family, and by me, her sister, who usually doted on her the most. She acted as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice, crying and screaming like she used to. “Dad, Mom, Chloe hit me! Aren’t you going to do anything? Boo-hoo-hoo, it hurts so bad…” In the past, whenever we had a disagreement, my parents would immediately defend her and scold me. “The older sister always gives in to the younger” was the unspoken rule in our house. But this time, no one protected her. Seeing my parents unmoved, she started throwing a tantrum. “Ugh, it hurts so much! If you’re not going to help me, I’ll just kill myself!” She truly was spoiled rotten. In my previous life, *we* were the ones who had made a mistake. When I was six, my parents took me to volunteer at an orphanage. That was the first time I saw her. That day, we brought many toys and snacks. The other kids swarmed them, and she was pushed aside, into a corner. Perhaps she was used to being bullied; she just watched quietly, not fighting, not crying, not fussing. The things were quickly snatched up, and only an old toy violin remained, unwanted. She timidly asked me, “Sister, can I have this?” I asked her, “Why do you want it?” She mimed playing the violin with her hands, stuttering, “It makes sounds… pretty sounds… I like it…” “Of course you can!” I personally handed her the toy violin. Her eyes, gleaming as if she’d found the greatest treasure, were both endearing and heartbreaking. “Dad, Mom, I want her to be my sister, okay?” My parents were touched, too, and unanimously decided to adopt her. After a series of procedures, she officially became part of our family. She was five years old then. I even gave her the name “Harper,” hoping her future would be filled with joy. For the next ten years, our whole family spoiled her like a princess. To unearth her violin talent, my dad hired the best private tutors and created a comprehensive development plan. My mom put her work aside and personally accompanied her to competitions around the world. And for us to have companionship and to keep our studies in sync, my parents specifically had me, who was a year older, start school a year late… Finally, she lived up to all expectations, receiving an early acceptance letter from Juilliard in her senior year, and achieving fame and success a few years later. All those years of dedicated nurturing and companionship, I thought she had long since let go of her past. Yet, her obsession with her “birth parents” ran so deep. Well, then, let’s put an end to all of it today!

“Harper Reed—no, I should call you Daisy Thompson. What do you need the money for? Who are you planning to transfer it to?” “Transfer it to…” She quickly caught herself, not finishing the sentence. “Is it your birth parents, right?” “How did you know?” She was surprised, but still wore a spoiled expression. “Since you already know, I won’t hide it anymore. Yes, I found my birth parents. I’ve dreamed of seeing them all these years, and heaven finally granted my wish today.” “So, they ask for money, and you just give it to them? Completely forgetting that *they* were the ones who abandoned you?” She put on a self-righteous front. “They explained everything to me. They said I was kidnapped by human traffickers back then, and they’ve been searching for me all this time.” The truth was, they had abandoned her after giving birth to a boy. When the orphanage found her, she was barely clinging to life. “They are my birth parents. They gave me life. Now they’re struggling, and I want to help them. Isn’t that what I should do?” Oh, what a dutiful, devoted daughter she was! At this point, if I were to stop someone from performing their “filial duty,” wouldn’t that be an affront to human decency? My dad finally couldn’t bear it anymore. “We’ll ask you one last time, Harper. Are you really set on acknowledging them?” This time, she hesitated, and her gaze at my dad held a hint of guilt. “I just want to reconnect with them. I didn’t say I was leaving you. I’m still your daughter.” Ha. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too? No way! I wouldn’t give her the chance to double-dip. “No need! You have two choices now. First, stay away from them, leave immediately for America, and continue your studies. Second, go and be with them, and the money in your account will be yours to freely dispose of…” “I choose two!” Before I could finish, she cut me off. “Excellent. That makes things much simpler. Mr. Davies, please begin!” Mr. Davies placed an “Agreement to Terminate Adoption” in front of her. “Now all you need to do is sign this document, and you’ll be free.” Under family law, adults who were adopted can have their adoption annulled if the relationship with their adoptive parents has deteriorated beyond repair, or if they choose to reconnect with birth parents after coming of age. She had just turned eighteen a few days ago, making her eligible. I had told my parents the truth days before she met them. They were sensible and rational people, so they naturally understood the principle of cutting losses in time. That account held five hundred thousand, originally her tuition fees for America. Now it would serve as her “severance fee.” Harper looked at the agreement, fear creeping into her eyes. “Does it really have to be this way?” “Yes, you must sign it today!” Seeing our resolute attitude, she, too, looked determined and spat, “You really are cold-blooded and heartless. If you’re going to be unjust, then don’t blame me for being disloyal. Fine, I’ll sign. Give me the pen!” “Don’t sign!” Just as she was about to put pen to paper, a sharp, grating shout came through. The voice came from Harper’s phone. “Sweetheart, you can’t sign that! If you sign, you’ll have nothing!” It was the Thompsons’ voice. I didn’t know how they’d conspired, but they had been listening in on everything. “Why? Mom, Dad, you heard them. They’re forcing me to choose, and we just finally reunited as a family. Of course, I’m choosing you.” She then scanned the three of us, coldly adding, “Because only your birth parents can truly be relied upon.” I nearly burst out laughing. See? They were clearly much smarter than she was. “Sweetheart, listen to me. We’re family, that will never change, and reuniting can wait. Besides, we don’t have extra money to support you right now. You need to stay with the Reed family…” They might as well have said they wanted to use us as an ATM and a bottomless pit of cash. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry about that. I’m grown up now. I can earn my own money.” “I play the violin well. Many people invite me to perform; I can earn hundreds for just one show.” “My studies are going well, too. I’m about to go to America for college. After I graduate, I’ll earn even more money, and then our whole family can live a good life.” Watching Harper’s confident expression, I could barely resist applauding her. She probably had no idea what signing that paper truly meant for her… They still wanted to persuade her, but as soon as they heard Harper mention she still had five hundred thousand in her account, they immediately backed down. “Alright, enough talk, sign it quickly!” My patience ran out. I firmly guided her hand and made her sign her name. Daisy Thompson, good luck with your future.

Daisy moved out that very night, not looking back even once. My mom, soft-hearted as ever, watched her resolute figure disappear and turned to silently shed a few tears. My dad also let out a heavy sigh. “Chloe, from now on, don’t tell us about her. You handle her affairs however you see fit.” “That account of hers, it’s a sub-card of yours. Find a suitable time to close it.” I knew they were heartbroken. In my previous life, Harper was passionate about art, while I excelled in science and engineering. We were “one artistic, the other scientific,” and a few years later, we were both shining brightly in our respective fields. We became the ‘perfect children’ every parent envied, and my parents became role models admired by countless others. They used to say, “That’s a sense of accomplishment that no amount of money can buy.” Reborn into this life, I was still myself, but Harper had become Daisy Thompson. I was curious to see where her destiny would ultimately lead. *Ding!* “Your account spent $200,000 on December 1st at 7:10 PM. Available balance: $300,000.” “Your account spent $35,000 on December 1st at 8:01 PM. Available balance: $265,000.” “Your account spent $5,000 on December 1st at 9:09 PM…” My phone buzzed with continuous account activity notifications from the bank: transfers, rent payments, supermarket purchases… Was five hundred thousand a lot? She would soon find out it was barely one year’s tuition for Juilliard. If the full tuition wasn’t received by the registration deadline, her admission would be automatically revoked. And tomorrow was the final deadline. As expected, on the third day, Daisy returned. She stormed into my classroom, pointing a finger at me and demanding, “Did you guys do this? Did you intentionally get my admission canceled?” “Chloe, I know you’ve always been jealous of me, jealous that I’m more talented, more beautiful than you. This was your chance to get revenge, wasn’t it?” I was buried in my homework and didn’t want to waste my breath, but since she was so eager to shove her face in front of me, I might as well oblige and slap it. “What? Spent all your money already? Can’t pay tuition, so you got expelled?” “You…” She was furious. “You intentionally didn’t tell me that five hundred thousand was for tuition, did you?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “How ridiculous! Didn’t we agree it was all yours to ‘freely dispose of’? What you do with it is none of our business!” “Oh, you thought colleges abroad were like public high schools, where you just walk in for free?” True. The old Harper Reed had always lived a sheltered life, never having to deal with the practicalities of money, which was why she was so foolish now. Of course, it was also possible she was deliberately lashing out at me to hide her embarrassment about not being able to go to America. Didn’t matter. I was eager to see how she would maintain her image as the glamorous “Juilliard high achiever” without our family’s support. “Hmph! So what if you have a little dirty money? Do you think I’d ever beg you? Dream on!” “I’ll tell you what, so what if I don’t go abroad for college? I’m so talented, I can still get into a good university and still become famous and successful! You, you ugly duckling, you’ll always just be my backdrop!” It seemed “the power of family” was indeed strong enough to give her such confidence even as she abandoned her dreams. I smiled. “Alright then, I’ll be waiting to see.” “Everyone, there’s something I need to announce.” I stood up and cleared my throat. “Harper Reed was actually adopted by our family. She has now reconnected with her birth parents. Her name is now Daisy Thompson.” “This is the legal document and the public announcement from that day. From now on, everything about her has nothing to do with our family.” From childhood until now, to provide her with a simple, pure environment, we had never revealed her true identity. Now, I didn’t say much, but just the name “Daisy Thompson” was enough to get everyone speculating. “Oh, so she was a fake rich girl? And she used to act so high and mighty, really thinking she was something special!” “No wonder! I always thought her vibe was different from Chloe’s. Goes to show, true character always comes out.” “Daisy Thompson? Isn’t that the classic ‘parasitic parents’ and ‘brother-supporting daughter’ storyline?” “Pfft! Does she really think she’s some amazing filial daughter? She’s just a naive, ungrateful brat…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298635”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic

The five poorest years of Liam Thorne’s youth, I spent with him, living in a cramped basement apartment. He earned his first thirty million, but I died of illness. Later, on the day he became the wealthiest man in Northwood City. I was reborn. After being a stubborn holdout in The Limbo Realm for two years. The Warden of Souls got tired of me and offered me a chance to fulfill my last wish. He allowed me to return to the human world. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in a bustling subway station. Giant billboards and electronic screens throughout the station were plastered with advertisements for Thorne Industries. I lifted my hand, gently caressing the familiar face on the screen, and couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. A few teen girls, holding up their phones, were taking photos of him from every angle. One long-haired girl, completely smitten, gushed, “Liam Thorne’s ad this time is just *too* hot! He absolutely blew all the other young stars and celebrities out of the water! No wonder his company always has the CEO himself star in the ads. With looks like that, it’d be a crime not to!” “High IQ, elite education, ridiculously handsome, and not a single scandal? He’s literally my dream husband material~” “Dream on! Can you believe this top-tier, high-quality guy is only 25? Oh my god!” The short-haired girl taking photos pouted, “Too bad he’s already married, and married young at that.” The long-haired girl shrugged, “You mean his short-lived wife? She’s been dead for ages. What’s the big deal? He can’t be expected to mourn for a dead person forever, not at his age, right?” “You’re absolutely right,” I couldn’t help but agree. The girls jumped, startled by my voice. One rolled her eyes, annoyed. “Who are you?” I raised my hand, wiping my face, and murmured, “Me? I’m Liam Thorne’s wife…” The girls burst into laughter, bending over backward, mocking me. “Looks like Liam Thorne drove another one crazy!” “Seriously, lady, get a reality check.” Then, they treated me like I was insane, chattering and laughing as they walked away.

Their comments snapped me back to reality. I quickly rushed to the restroom and looked in the mirror. My heart sank the moment I saw my reflection. It was an utterly ordinary face, the kind that would get lost in a crowd, completely unremarkable. A wave of sadness washed over me. In my previous life, at least I had a beautiful face. That’s why when I first moved into Liam’s place, he’d just broken his leg and was incredibly short-tempered. He’d gruffly chase everyone away. But I, emboldened by my looks, dragged my small suitcase and forcefully barged into his life. For the first few days, he wouldn’t even let me through the door. So, I huddled with my knees to my chest, sleeping in a sleeping bag right outside his door for days. On the third night, the temperature plummeted, and I sneezed a dozen times outside. The door suddenly swung open. Leaning against it, I almost tumbled backward, nearly taking a nasty fall. But a pair of arms caught me, holding me steady. Then, he pushed me away with a look of disdain and rolled his wheelchair back inside. From his awkward expression. I knew he’d caved.

Liam couldn’t stand it when I acted cute back then. In my junior year of college, I went to an acupuncturist. To save money, and to help his leg recover faster, I taught myself acupuncture, pricking my own leg until it was covered in needle marks. Later, he saw it. His eyes immediately welled up, but he was furious. I’d just hug his arm and pout, and all his anger would just melt away. Then, with that handsome, cold face of his, he’d pinch my cheek, his voice still gruff as hell, “Try pricking yourself again, I dare you.” But now, looking at the face in the mirror. I tried to make a playfully pouting expression. Then I fell silent. If I showed up to Liam with *this* face and told him I was his early-departed wife. He’d probably call the police, thinking I was crazy. But… I miss him so much. I just want to see him.

My phone vibrated. I answered a call from a woman. “Hello, Miss Evans, what’s going on? Didn’t we schedule an interview for this afternoon? Why aren’t you here yet?” I was stunned. “An… interview?” She clicked her tongue. “Are you out of your mind?! You forgot something this important?” “This is a housekeeping position for the CEO of Thorne Industries! Where else are you going to find a job this good?” “Liam Thorne?” I almost blurted his name. Someone spoke next to her, and she reminded me again, “Hurry up, you’ve got an hour left! I already sent you the address, didn’t I?” After the call ended, I found the text message with the address. Then, I quickly took the subway and rushed over. The address was far. After getting off the subway, I took a bus to the nearest stop. Then walked for another half hour before finally arriving. I was drenched in sweat, and just as I got close, a light rain started, leaving me completely disheveled. Hesitating for a moment, I still rang the doorbell. The door opened. A young woman’s face appeared. She was still wearing loungewear. Seeing her attire, I froze for a moment. Immediately, a dull ache spread through the depths of my heart.

The woman glanced at me. “Are you the housekeeper coming for the interview today?” I nodded. As she walked inside, she began giving me instructions. “Mr. Thorne’s previous housekeeper resigned.” “There isn’t much to do around the house. Mr. Thorne rarely eats at home, so you’ll mainly be responsible for keeping the house clean.” “Oh, and Mr. Thorne doesn’t sleep well, so remember to keep quiet.” “There’s a locked room on the second floor that you can’t enter, remember that. Don’t be clumsy; everything in that room is very expensive, and you wouldn’t be able to afford to replace it if you broke something.” She led me upstairs for a tour, all the while scrutinizing me. “The housekeeper’s room is at the end of the second-floor hallway.” “You look quite young, and your resume shows a high education. Why are you looking to be a housekeeper?” I was just about to come up with an excuse when she chuckled. “But I’ve seen plenty of girls like you.” “After all, Mr. Thorne is incredibly eligible. But it’s best to hide any improper thoughts you might have.” “Mr. Thorne has very high standards.” I didn’t really hear much of what she said afterward. My eyes were fixed on the direction of the master bedroom. Is Liam… resting now?

The woman checked her watch, as if to remind me. “Mr. Thorne isn’t home. He’s out of the country and will be back on a morning flight tomorrow.” “Just prepare Mr. Thorne’s clothes for tomorrow morning and his breakfast.” I nodded blankly. She went to the guest room, changed into a business suit, and left. Besides me, there was only Mr. Jenkins, the driver and gardener, at the Thorne residence. Mr. Jenkins exchanged a few pleasantries with me, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Who was that?” Mr. Jenkins replied, “You mean Ms. Sinclair?” “She’s Mr. Thorne’s secretary. She handles all his business and personal affairs.” “It seems Mr. Thorne is quite fond of Ms. Sinclair.” A bitter taste quickly spread through me. I’d always understood that people move on. I didn’t expect Liam to remain single and unwed for me until his dying day. But knowing that a new woman had appeared in his life, it still hurt deeply.

As Mr. Jenkins led me through the garden. A huge black shadow suddenly darted out from the side, knocking me down directly, then licking my face like crazy. I finally recognized what was in my arms. “Buddy… Buddy?” When I found Buddy all those years ago. He was just a palm-sized puppy. Liam didn’t like cats or dogs. When I secretly snuck Buddy home, tucked inside my jacket, Liam caught me red-handed. His leg had healed a bit by then, and he could walk with a crutch. Seeing Buddy in my arms, his brows furrowed so deeply they looked like they could trap a mosquito. “Can we raise him together?” I pestered him, constantly whispering in his ear, “Look how cute he is!” “Having a dog is great! Who knows, maybe one day when I’m gone, he’ll still be there to keep you company.” He suddenly exploded in anger. “How long do dogs even live? Chloe Harper, what on earth are you talking about?” “Don’t you know better than to tempt fate?” My mood hadn’t been great during that period. My parents were pressuring me to break up with Liam, even setting me up with other guys. The previous week, when I went home, Mom pulled me aside. “Chloe, Liam is a solid guy, but his circumstances are just too difficult. He’s an illegitimate son, his family disowned him, his mother passed away young, and now his leg is broken. Are you really going to play the savior? Haven’t we heard enough stories about ungrateful men?” I just told them: Liam wasn’t like that. His childhood had actually been quite good; it was just a reversal of fortune. And he would absolutely never be someone ungrateful or heartless. Not everyone is born into privilege. People who come from humble backgrounds but are ambitious— They need time to grow. So, when Liam yelled at me, my tears immediately started falling. I ran out of the rental apartment, still clutching Buddy. I shamelessly squatted in the small garden downstairs, crying my heart out. Half an hour later, I was still fuming that Liam hadn’t come to find me. I stood up, craning my neck to look towards the building’s entrance. A tall shadow appeared behind me. Liam’s pants were covered in mud, his arm was scraped, clearly from a fall. His dark, deep-set eyes were fixed on me. Finally, he reached out, embraced me, and then ruffled my hair. “Shh, don’t be angry anymore.” “I spoke too loudly.” “I was wrong.” “You can have any pet you want, I don’t care.” It turned out he had come after me the moment I ran out. I ran fast, and he was on crutches, so he chased me all the way outside the complex in a desperate hurry. He even fell down outside. From that day on, Buddy officially became a member of our family. Only, after so long apart. Buddy had become an old dog.

Mr. Jenkins jumped, quickly pulling Buddy aside. “My apologies! He didn’t scare you, did he?” “This dog is usually quite fierce. Any stranger who comes into the house, he’ll bark at them like crazy. But today, it’s strange, I don’t know why he’s so friendly with you.” I stood up from the ground, looking down at Buddy. Buddy’s wet eyes stared at me unblinkingly. He was panting heavily. Occasionally, he’d twitch. I was on the verge of tears and quickly looked away. “Maybe it’s because I have a dog at home too; I probably smell like pets.” Mr. Jenkins nodded. “Well, that’s great. The previous housekeepers were all too scared to feed him, they thought he was too fierce.” Mr. Jenkins had to leave for something. I seized the moment when no one was around. I rushed towards Buddy, who was tied near his doghouse. I buried my face in his fur, tears and snot streaming down. Buddy was howling too. It was the first time I’d ever heard such a sorrowful cry from a dog. Just as I was sobbing uncontrollably. A familiar, deep male voice sounded behind me: “Who are you?” 7 The male voice, compared to two years ago, carried a new depth of maturity and steadiness. When I heard Liam Thorne’s voice. I froze, rigid and motionless. My mind buzzed, a complete blank. Buddy obediently rested his chin on my thigh, peering with one eye at Liam behind me. “Turn around.” The man’s voice was full of authority. I didn’t move. I hadn’t thought about how to face him yet. “Buddy, come here.” Perhaps fearing that I, a stranger, might harm Buddy, Liam called out to the dog, his voice softer than when he’d questioned me. But Buddy remained motionless, nestled in my arms. Liam’s patience seemed to have worn thin. He said, somewhat impatiently, “I’ll ask you one last time. “Who are you, and why are you in my house?” So stern. 8 Mr. Jenkins rushed over to rescue me. “Mr. Thorne, Mr. Thorne, this is the new housekeeper, Miss Evans.” Only then did I turn around. But I kept my head down the entire time, not daring to look at him. “Hmm.” Liam finally let down his guard, but seeing Buddy so affectionate with me. He frowned. Mr. Jenkins again explained, “She has a dog at home too, so Buddy probably smelled it. It’s a good thing Buddy isn’t aggressive with her.” I gently patted Buddy’s rump. Only then did he reluctantly walk over to Liam, head bowed. Liam bent down and stroked his head. “You ungrateful little thing, are you not fond of Daddy anymore?” He spoke to Buddy so gently. Just like he used to coax me. Back when we had no money, we rented an old, old apartment, a basement unit. At night, it would get so cold the water pipes would freeze. We couldn’t even afford the heating bill back then, so we’d sleep in our clothes, huddled under the covers, with Buddy sleeping at our feet, warming them for us. Liam would tuck my hands into his chest. I’d count his heartbeats and breathing, slowly drifting off to sleep. Later that night, I got too warm and rolled over. He was still holding me tightly. In a hazy dream, I felt him kiss the nape of my neck and heard him say: “Chloe.” “I promise I’ll give you a good life, a big house, and you’ll be dressed beautifully every day.” I believed him. I always did.

But just as Liam worked tirelessly and unearthed his first fortune. He held my hand and led me to a newly built, beautiful apartment complex. He placed the keys in my hand. Then pushed open the door. He lifted me, spinning me around the house in his arms. Then, he kissed me tenderly and earnestly. “Chloe.” “We have a home now.” I buried my head in his chest, tears streaming down. He didn’t know. I had just come from the hospital. And received the diagnosis. I had cancer. After falling ill, I tried my best to cooperate with treatment, taking my medication on time, but the results were not good at all. Luck wasn’t on my side. I had less than a month left. I didn’t want to die, I wanted to live. Liam and my future had just begun; how could it end like this? The day Liam found my diagnosis report in the cabinet. I saw him freeze for a moment. Then he walked to the balcony and silently smoked. After a long while, I saw him lean against the wall, covering his face, silently weeping, his whole body trembling. After composing himself, he returned to my bedside and knelt. He held my hand, kissing it repeatedly. The back of my hand was wet. “Chloe.” He thought I was asleep. “Don’t be afraid.” “Even in death, I’ll walk the path to the underworld with you.” But I clamped my hand over his mouth. “Liam.” I swore a solemn oath. “If you dare to do anything foolish for me, I will never forgive you, even in death.” “And in my next life, I will absolutely, absolutely, absolutely not wait for you.” I pointed to Buddy lying on the rug beside the bed. “You still have Buddy.” “If you die too, Buddy won’t have a mom or dad. He’s so old now; what if some bad person sells him?” I forced him to swear an oath too. It was the first time I’d ever seen such a grown man, kneeling on the floor, weeping with such helplessness and sorrow.

Tears were about to well up again. I was about to speak, to say something to the current him. Ms. Anastasia Sinclair appeared. She walked over with a stack of documents and began reporting on some company matters. Liam listened quietly, occasionally bending down to playfully tickle Buddy. Anastasia saw me standing nearby. “Mr. Thorne came home early, this is a common change of plans.” “You shouldn’t just stand here.” “Go prepare dinner.” “Remember…” I instinctively finished her sentence. “Low oil, low salt, no cilantro, allergic to strawberries and eggs, right?” After I spoke. The air fell silent for a moment. Anastasia and Liam both looked at me. Especially Liam. His gaze at me had subtly shifted. I quickly tried to cover. “Oh, the agency showed me the资料 [information], I memorized it all.” But Anastasia didn’t seem to believe me. “The regular chef will start in a couple of days. Why would you memorize all that?”

Liam’s thoughtful gaze made my heart race. I immediately explained, “Oh, the agency has strict requirements. Even for a two-day substitute, we have to memorize everything.” Anastasia seemed about to say something else. “Bring me the agenda for tomorrow’s company meeting.” Liam, however, seemed disinclined to continue the topic. Anastasia could only turn her attention away from me. “Alright, I’ll get it from the car.” I don’t know why. But I felt a strong sense of hostility from Ms. Sinclair towards me. I went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. To be honest, I wasn’t a very good cook. All those years I was with Liam, I just never learned to cook well. He was always busy with work and studying, and then he’d have to find time to help me cook when it was mealtime. One time, I saw he was so tired his eyelids could barely stay open. I told him to go lie down in the room for a bit. But I ended up burning the rice. Just as I was racking my brain, Liam woke up. He leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with a smile. Seeing my frustrated expression, he walked over, put a few cloves of garlic in the rice, and stuck in some green onions. “That’s all it takes?” He just curved his lips, not answering directly, but tilted his head and caught my lips, kissing me slowly and deliberately.

Hiss… The rice was a bit burnt again. I quickly, stealthily, and clumsily added some green onions and garlic. A moment later. The rice miraculously no longer smelled burnt. I set the dishes on the table. Anastasia’s eyes nearly popped out when she saw the food. “Is that it?” “You’re serving Mr. Thorne potato slices, stir-fried pork, and mapo tofu?!” I was confused too. What was wrong with these dishes? These were the best I could make. What, now that he’s a CEO, he doesn’t eat home cooking anymore? Does he expect lobster and abalone every day? Anastasia rolled her eyes. “So greasy, and so ordinary.” “Forget it, I’ll call the regular chef and hurry her along.” “No need.” Liam had already walked over and sat directly at the table. “Home-cooked meals are fine.” When he saw the dishes, he tasted a bite of the potato slices and paused.

Perhaps he was startled by the potato slices I’d cut thicker than my fingers. He didn’t touch his forks for a long moment. He simply lowered his eyes, staring motionlessly at the potato slices. I even felt a bit embarrassed myself. “Mr. Thorne, I’m new to this, and I’m really not good at cooking.” “Perhaps we should have someone else prepare something new…” Seeing Liam remain silent, Anastasia picked up a pair of forks and tasted a bite. She paused. “You’re not just ‘not good,’ you’re completely hopeless. It’s so salty, and it has chili. How can anyone eat this?” “Ms. Sinclair.” Liam suddenly interrupted her complaints. “You should be off the clock.” Anastasia started to say something else. Liam raised his hand, waving her away. Anastasia pointed at me, then left in a huff. “Don’t be afraid.” Liam still didn’t look at me. He extended his forks to another dish. “You cooked very well; it suits my taste perfectly.” I brightened up. “Then can I keep cooking for you?” He didn’t look at me. Only then did I dare to really examine him. He was so thin. His cheeks were slightly hollowed, making him look a bit sharp. He used to be so healthy when I took care of him. All muscle. “No need,” he refused my cooking application. … It seems it really was terrible. “Cooking is tiring,” he said. “Just do your designated tasks and take good care of Buddy.” I suddenly remembered when I used to say that after we got married, I’d take charge of his stomach. I’d go to a cooking class and really improve my skills. But he’d said no. “When we have money, I’ll hire a housekeeper to help with cooking.” “And when I have time, I’ll cook.” “Chloe Harper, I’m not marrying you for you to spend all day in the kitchen.” “You have a great life and youth ahead of you. I’d rather you go out and see the world, experience new sights.”

Buddy was whimpering, probably hungry. I went to get him some dog food. Buddy ate, occasionally looking up at me. As if I might run off if he wasn’t careful. After he finished eating, I played frisbee with Buddy in the garden. That used to be his favorite game. I’d pretend to throw the frisbee, but actually hide it behind my back. After doing this three times, I’d finally throw it for real. Buddy used to fall for my trick. Later, he got smart. But to make me happy, he’d pretend to be fooled. It was the same this time. When I finally threw it, Buddy went wild with joy, charging off to catch the frisbee. I was happy too. I excitedly whistled. But suddenly. Liam’s voice sounded, a little urgent, and his wrist was suddenly gripped tight. “You… who exactly are you?”

Two years ago, when I first passed away. Liam promised me. He said he’d be okay. He’d eat well, sleep well, continue working hard, and take good care of Buddy. But after my soul drifted out of my body. I saw Liam holding my corpse, crying like a child. For two whole days. He was like a lonely beast who had lost its mate. On the verge of losing control. He wouldn’t allow anyone to touch my body. Even when it was time for cremation. He cried day and night. Sitting on the floor, clutching my hand, he called my name over and over. Calling me his wife.

The day of my cremation. He charged forward like a madman. As if he wanted to jump into the crematorium with me. His male friends had to use all their strength to hold him back. “Liam, snap out of it. Chloe wouldn’t want to see you like this.” “That’s right, Liam, please accept our condolences.” But Liam suddenly seemed to have all his strength drained, as if someone had hollowed out his body. He knelt on the ground, clutching my photo. Head bowed. Wailing uncontrollably. And I could only float in the air, far away, circling frantically with worry. I was going crazy too. I struggled desperately to float down. Trying to embrace him one more time. But soon, a powerful suction from behind pulled me away. When I woke up again. I was already in The Limbo Realm. But I couldn’t cross over for two whole years. Nor could I forget my past life. Until even The Warden of Souls grew tired of me. Only then did I get a chance to be reborn. Even if it was in someone else’s body. I was already very content. To be able to see him again. To see him still alive and well. It made me so happy.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Thorne? I’m Miss Evans.” I turned, forcing a smile onto my face. I am Miss Evans. The unremarkable, ordinary girl, Miss Evans. I am the one who can no longer have a future or entanglement with him. I don’t know, maybe I’ll have to leave this world again at any moment. So, I cannot reveal myself to him. I cannot make him endure the pain of losing me again. In his dark pupils, I could even see my own face. Plain. Ordinary. My skin was a bit darker, and there were a few freckles on my cheeks. He stared at me intently, profound emotions swirling in the depths of his pupils. “Mr. Thorne?” He snapped back to reality. There was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Nothing,” he released my hand. “You remind me of someone…”

I couldn’t resist asking, “Who?” He watched Buddy charging back towards us, frisbee in mouth, his tone cryptic. “My wife.” My heart fluttered. “Your wife… I heard she passed away.” He hummed in agreement. He sat down on the long bench on the lawn. “It’s been two years.” He said softly, “She was just like you; if her cooking burned, she’d add garlic.” I started sweating. So he’d noticed. “She wasn’t good at cooking either, and her potato slices were always cut so thick.” “Even the way you both cook tastes similar.” I suddenly felt guilty. “Just now, watching you throw the frisbee.” “I almost mistook you for her.” He stretched out his legs, elbows resting on his knees. Buddy brought the frisbee over; he wanted to give it to me. I gave him a subtle look. He actually understood. He lowered his head and gave the frisbee to Liam. Liam chuckled. “But how could you possibly be her?” “When she and I were together, Buddy would always run to her without hesitation.” “The dead cannot return.” “I must truly be insane to mistake you for her.”

I didn’t know what to say, or how to comfort him. “You have to look forward, Mr. Thorne. Your wife surely wants you to be well. I think Ms. Sinclair is quite nice…” Liam suddenly lost all expression, stood up, and left with his hands in his pockets. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll be staying at Nine Peaks Mountain for a while. Please take good care of Buddy for me.” How could he be leaving again after just coming back for a little while? I watched his retreating figure, reluctant to see him go. I saw him pull out his phone and make a call. “Ms. Sinclair, pack up the important company documents for the near future.” “Yes, we’ll be going to Nine Peaks Mountain tomorrow.” So, he’d arranged for Ms. Sinclair to accompany him. I stood there, feeling a little lost. Suddenly, I didn’t know what I should do. I had already seen him. With Ms. Sinclair by his side, he seemed to be ready to move on. My presence was already expendable.

The next day, after Liam left. He was going to Nine Peaks Mountain for half a month. On the fourth day, I started cleaning his room. His room had very few things, clean and simple, like a show home. I didn’t find any of my belongings either. Could they have all been thrown away? Perhaps it’s better if they were. To look at old things and miss the past. Keeping them would only add to the sadness. The entire villa, once tidied, had almost no particularly dirty spots. It had a full smart home system. Everything hardly required my direct intervention. As I cleaned the locked room, my curiosity outweighed my rationality. The door had a keypad lock. I only entered one set of numbers. My birthday. The lock clicked open. The door slowly swung inward. It was pitch black inside. I opened the curtains. Dust motes danced in the air. I finally saw what was hidden in this room.

The furnishings, the furniture, every single detail in this room, was an exact replica of the basement apartment we lived in for five years. If not for the sound of the robotic vacuum. I would have suspected I was back in that old basement. Even the bathroom was decorated to look exactly like that narrow toilet from our old basement. I looked at the mirror. In front of the mirror. My comb and skincare products were laid out. Some had even expired. He hadn’t had the heart to throw them away. In the old basement bathroom, washing my hair often meant the hot water would run out halfway through, leaving me shivering and chattering my teeth. He’d boil water in a kettle for me while helping me rinse. By the time it was his turn to wash, there wasn’t enough hot water. To save a bit on the electricity bill, he’d just quickly rinse with half-cold water. After drying his hair, he’d quickly snuggle under the covers. I’d try to warm his hands. He’d cross his arms, not letting me. “It’s cold. I’ll hug you later, just wait.” And now, in the closet, all my things were there. My clothes hung side by side with his. As if we were an old married couple who had lived together for decades. Even the bedsheets. They were still my favorite small floral daisy four-piece set.

I walked to the bed and sat down. Pulled open the drawer. And took out my diary. After I died, for a period of time, someone continued my diary. It was Liam’s handwriting, strong and flowing, unmistakably his. Only some parts looked as if they had been smudged by water stains: “November 7, 2022. Chloe Harper, today is the start of winter. I ate dumplings today. Do you have dumplings where you are? I cooked extra for lunch and left them on the table. I wonder if you got to eat any? Time flies. It’s already been two months since you left. Are you hungry down there? Do you have enough money? Are any other little ghosts bullying you? If they are, let your husband know in a dream, and your husband will find a powerful Taoist priest to help you vent your anger.” … “November 22, 2022. Chloe Harper, it snowed a little today. It’s so cold. The underfloor heating is on full blast at home now, but I still feel cold. It’s probably because I can’t hold you. In the winters before, you were like a little warm stove. Holding you, I could fall asleep peacefully. Chloe, now, I suffer from insomnia night after night; I can’t sleep peacefully.” … “January 21, 2023. Chloe Harper, I came to your parents’ house for the New Year. They’re doing well, don’t worry. Chloe Harper, I stole all your childhood photos. There were so many I’d never seen; turns out you had your awkward phases too. Your parents said that the old man next door lost his wife a while ago. A few days ago, he woke up in the middle of the night, claiming he saw his deceased wife, screaming and shouting, and ended up in the hospital. Chloe Harper. I was so angry. Everyone else has their wife visit. Why can’t you come and see me in my dreams? I… haven’t dreamed of you even once…” … “February 7, 2023. Work has been so busy recently, I’m exhausted. But it feels like this helps me numb my brain from constantly missing you. It helps me not… feel so sad.” … “March 10, 2023. I’m really angry now. The kind that can’t be appeased. Last night, I finally dreamed of you once. I wanted to talk to you, but you just ran away. Buddy also barked all night. Could it really have been you who came to see me? Next time, tell me in advance; I haven’t shaved in how many days…” … “May 12, 2023. Chloe. I now have so much money, more than we could spend in a hundred lifetimes. But you’re not by my side, and all of it has lost its meaning.” … “June 1, 2023. Chloe, I went and donated money. I went to fulfill your old wishes. I donated a lot of money to children in the mountains, set up a foundation for them. I also had many primary schools built for them. You must be happy for me, right?” … My tears hadn’t stopped flowing from the moment I saw the diary. But when I read the entries from the later dates. A chill ran through me. “April 28, 2024. The wish list is almost complete. There’s one last item: climbing Nine Peaks Mountain to watch the sunrise. Chloe Harper, forgive me for breaking my promise. I can’t move on. Can you forgive me, please? Chloe, wait for me. I’ll be with you soon.”

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