The day before I was set to marry the city’s most sought-after heir, Blake Davies, his first love, the girl he never truly got over, came back home. He completely ditched me, rushing off to be with her, leaving me stranded at our engagement party. Utterly heartbroken and disillusioned, I finally decided to walk away. But then, with his eyes red-rimmed, he gripped my arm and asked, “Skylar, are you really going to abandon me?” 0 Blake Davies and I were engaged. Everyone in our social circle said I was incredibly clever, that I’d managed to make the notorious playboy heir finally settle down. I just smiled. I hadn’t played any games; I’d simply laid my heart bare, offering it to Blake without holding anything back. I was mid-face mask when I heard the news that Seraphina Lawrence was back in the country. Blake was in the shower, and his phone was buzzing relentlessly on the coffee table. I picked it up and saw it was an unknown number. I answered. Before I could even speak, a soft, gentle female voice chimed from the other end. “Blake, I’m back.” My heart lurched. I quickly hit the end call button. There was a moment of silence on the other end, then the phone rang again. I immediately silenced it. 0

I knew Blake had a first love who’d moved abroad. Her name was Seraphina Lawrence, and she was his high school girlfriend. But they’d broken up right after graduation, and she’d promptly left the country. Blake, the Davies family heir, had been a wreck for a while after that, becoming even more of a playboy, living life like it was one big game, a pure reckless rich kid. All of this was what I’d heard from others. Before I knew Blake personally, my impression of him was just that he was the talk of the campus among my university classmates. Blake’s striking looks, privileged background, and that dangerous, laid-back vibe made him a hot topic, attracting countless admirers. He went through girlfriends one after another. This made my initial impression of him less than stellar. Then one day, my roommate and I went to a bar for her birthday and ended up getting harassed by a few guys. They blocked our way, insisting we have a few drinks before we could leave. Caught in a standoff, I was about to pull out my phone to call the cops when someone walked up beside us. Blake stood in front of us, tall and imposing. He looked down at the guys, a single cold word falling from his lips. “Beat it.” One of the guys, seeing how arrogant he was, threw a punch at Blake’s face, but Blake caught his wrist with a swift move. Blake’s other hand clenched into a fist and he slammed it hard into the guy. The man yelped, stumbling backward and knocking over a bottle from the table. The sound of shattering glass drew many eyes from around the bar. A server noticed the commotion and quickly came over with security. He paused when he saw Blake. The guys were still yelling, threatening to make Blake pay. Blake looked at the server and said, “These guys are causing trouble. Get them out of here.” The security guards nodded and dragged them outside. Blake exchanged a few more words with the server, then glanced at us before leaving. The server told us our entire tab for the night was on the house. Later, I found out Blake was a co-owner of that bar. From that day on, I seemed to see Blake everywhere at school. 0

When Blake came out of the shower, I handed him his phone and told him what had just happened. He took it, stared at the number for a few seconds, then tossed it aside as if it were nothing. I cautiously asked, “Aren’t you going to call her back?” Blake looked at me, giving a nonchalant smile. “It’s nothing important.” My heart, which had been in my throat, finally relaxed. I was so excited for our engagement party the next day. The next morning, I woke up early and started getting my hair and makeup done. I had been waiting for this day for a long time. By the time everything was ready, it was already noon. When I arrived at the venue, it was already packed. Relatives, friends, and everyone from our social circle were there. In the center of the hall, stood Blake, sharp in his suit. I walked toward him, step by step, toward the man I had loved for six years. Blake’s eyes were full of warmth, gazing back at me. I can’t remember exactly when I started pursuing Blake. I only remember the night we officially got together, the bar table covered in empty glasses. Blake was sitting on the sofa, surrounded by his friends. His eyes were deep, and he pointed at the drinks on the table, saying, “Drink all these, and I’ll be with you.” My head was hot from the alcohol, and I grabbed a glass, pouring it down my throat. By the third glass, Blake grabbed my wrist and took the glass away. Then, amidst the cheers and catcalls of his friends, he pulled me up and led me out of the private room. He pinned me against the wall in the hallway, his intense gaze fixed on me. “You like me that much, huh?” The alcohol was hitting me hard. My eyes were blurry, and I seemed to be processing his words slowly. After a long moment, I nodded. He cupped the back of my head, making me tilt my head back to look at him. I mumbled, “I like… Blake.” As soon as the words left my lips, they were covered by something warm. When I was about to run out of breath, he let me go. I gasped, watching his Adam’s apple bob. That night, it felt natural for us to become a couple. That was one year and three months into my pursuit of Blake. 0

Halfway through the engagement party, Blake’s phone rang. Standing beside him, I watched him pull out his phone and frown. He immediately hung up. But then, the call came in again. Once, twice, three times. On the fourth call, Blake finally answered. As soon as he picked up, a girl’s tearful voice rang out. “Blake, I was in a car accident.” In an instant, all the color drained from Blake’s face. Ignoring the astonished gazes of everyone present, he bolted out of the hall in a desperate rush. I stood there, utterly helpless, the pain in my chest feeling like a black hole, threatening to swallow me whole. I clutched my stomach, feeling a wave of nausea. I rushed to the restroom and dry heaved. I turned on the faucet, not caring if my makeup would run, and splashed water on my face. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I looked at myself in the mirror, my hair disheveled, on the verge of breaking down. After a long while in the restroom, I finally emerged. Most of the guests had already left the engagement party; only my parents and my best friend, Ashley Shaw, were waiting for me. Seeing my distraught appearance, they rushed over, surrounding me, their faces etched with worry. “Skylar, what happened?” My throat tightened, and I struggled to speak. “I don’t want to get married anymore.”

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The sharp crack of a slap echoed. I crumpled to the ground, my right cheek burning. Not far off, my boyfriend was holding my ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend, glaring at me with ill intent. A pair of black leather shoes entered my blurred vision. Before I could even look up, a familiar, teasing voice reached my ears: “Only a few minutes apart, and you’re already such a mess.” I picked myself up, tugging uncomfortably at the sweet pink princess dress I wore. A sharp glint entered my eyes, completely clashing with my outfit. “You, who just got humiliated with a public betrayal, have no right to speak.” On the night of Liam’s new movie premiere, I waited backstage in a sweet pink princess dress, overjoyed at the thought of surprising him. People passing by gave me a wide berth. It was common knowledge that I had publicly attacked every rumored girlfriend for Liam and engaged in heated online battles with his fans. My reputation in the entertainment industry was utterly trashed. But what others thought didn’t matter to me. I only cared about Liam. Yet, the next second, I turned a corner and saw him passionately kissing Chloe, my long-standing rival. My mind went blank. Like crazy, I lunged forward and grabbed Chloe’s hair, only to be slapped to the ground by Liam. My boyfriend had slapped *me* for another woman. This should have been an incredibly painful moment. But I couldn’t stop my lips from curving upwards, wild joy surging uncontrollably in my chest. The obsessive adoration for Liam that I couldn’t shake off before, vanished in that instant. I was finally free from the control of that damned Obsession Protocol! Then, a tall figure’s shadow stretched over the ground, enveloping me. The black leather shoes and familiar voice told me I wasn’t the only one who had regained freedom. It was my ex-boyfriend, Julian. Julian and I broke up a year ago. At the time, I was a rising star in the entertainment industry, at the peak of my popularity, thriving in both my love life and career. But the moment I saw Liam, I was like a woman possessed, publicly declaring my love for him and completely forgetting Julian. Julian agreed to the sudden breakup without hesitation. A month later, he strangely concealed his identity and relentlessly pursued Chloe, a practically unknown actress at the time. Speaking of which, he hadn’t spoken to me in that tone for almost a year since that day. “Aria, can you stop being so unreasonable?” Liam growled, frowning. He must have been a bit drunk. Normally, he wouldn’t act so out of character for his carefully crafted public persona. I never understood why the Obsession Protocol chose Liam. After a long period of my mindless, obsessive pursuit, Liam had completely bought into my extreme infatuation with him. After several tests, he would occasionally show me his true self. After all, no one can wear a mask all the time. So, I’d seen his glamorous public facade, and I’d also seen his disgusting private self. I ignored Liam, instead shifting my gaze to Chloe, who was cowering in his arms, a knowing smirk on my face. “What about you? Getting all cozy with someone else right in front of your boyfriend? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Chloe clutched Liam’s shirt and stayed silent, just looking utterly pitiful at Julian, tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill. Julian shuddered, instinctively taking a step back behind me. Having to endure a year by Chloe’s side, and pretending to pursue her… it must have been tough on him. And so did I. I slowly stepped forward. Liam boldly pulled Chloe behind him, acting all protective. “If you dare to touch her again, I’m breaking up with you.” This tactic always worked like a charm in the past. No matter how outrageous Liam’s actions were, this one sentence would instantly make me docile. But not anymore. And they seemed to forget that when I first entered the industry, my temper was known throughout the industry as being terrible. Before Liam could finish his last syllable, I landed a solid slap on him. He staggered back a few steps, clutching his face, accidentally knocking Chloe down behind him. The first slap wasn’t enough; my face still stung fiercely. Before he could steady himself, I slapped his other cheek. The next day, videos of me slapping the A-list actor twice went viral on social media.

“How dare she hit our Liam? Who the hell is Aria anyway?!” “Aria, just die already! Our Liam’s face is all red from her hitting him!” “As a neutral observer, wasn’t she head-over-heels for him before? Is this love turned to hate?” “Aria, are you crazy?! With that stunt, all of Liam’s schedules will be delayed! Can you be responsible for the company’s losses?!” In my bedroom, Marcus’s exasperated voice still echoed. I slipped on plastic gloves and took a satisfying bite of steaming hot fried chicken, my eyes narrowing in bliss. “Are you deaf?! Don’t think the company will bail you out of every mess! Do you have any idea how much we lost this time?!” “I’m listening. Weren’t you always hyping up me and Liam’s relationship before? Now I’m trending at number one for all the wrong reasons, hasn’t that saved you money on those negative PR campaigns you used to buy?” I responded sarcastically into the phone. When I first joined the company, I was a key talent they were heavily investing in. Marcus was kind and amiable to me, nothing like his aggressive, temperamental self today. But then I refused unethical demands from a high-level executive, and I tore him a new one. After that, my opportunities dwindled, my projects were downgraded, and everyone’s true colors were completely exposed. It was just my luck that before I could terminate my contract with the company, I was taken over by the Obsession Protocol and completely lost control of my body. Marcus sputtered, “You—you—” for a good while before hanging up. He must have been furious. I tossed my phone aside and took a big gulp of bubble tea. After being controlled by the Protocol, I had been constantly dieting to conform to Liam’s aesthetic. My once curvy figure had been reduced to a skeletal frame. I needed to gain some weight back soon. And no, it definitely wasn’t because I’m a glutton. The TV was playing the popular drama I had recently starred in. The moment I appeared, the on-screen comments were filled with remarks telling me to get out of the industry. My reputation was so bad not just because of Liam’s fans and the company’s insidious manipulation, but also because my portrayal of villains was so convincing it made audiences seethe with hatred. I binge-watched with relish, marveling at my own acting. The ringing of my phone pulled me back to reality as the sun had already set. I casually picked it up, and a low, clear voice instantly flowed into my ear. “Want to grab a drink?” … When I arrived at the bar, it was already crowded. But Julian seemed to possess a magical aura that made me spot him sitting at the bar instantly. “Excuse me, handsome, is this seat taken?” a girl asked softly, circling to Julian’s side. I quickened my pace, resting my hand on Julian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, he’s already got plans.” As the girl walked away, I withdrew my hand and sank into the seat next to him. “One Vodka Lime, please.” “You just came like that? Aren’t you afraid of being photographed by paparazzi?” “Afraid of what? Another trending topic just means more exposure, and I’m all for it.” “So, what’s up?” Julian took a sip, not answering immediately. I could pretty much guess what he wanted to say. I had always been the one to initiate things, so it was normal for him to be unaccustomed to speaking first. “Since we’re both free from the Obsession Protocol, Aria, can we get back together?” He stared intently at me, his gaze deep and passionate, his voice slightly hoarse, laced with a hint of seduction. I could never resist his gaze. My eyes traced down his deep-set eyes, stopping at his thin lips. “Have you ever kissed her?” “Only you.” During the time I was controlled, the only fortunate thing was that the Obsession Protocol couldn’t make us violate our bottom lines. Julian cupped my hand and gently kissed my palm, then slowly leaned in closer until our noses lightly brushed, rubbing against each other. Just before our lips met, something suddenly struck me. I used my finger to separate our mouths. **截断点** “Julian, even without the Obsession Protocol influencing me, I would have broken up with you.”

“Why?” I thought seriously for a moment. “I guess… I’m just tired.” Our relationship started with a silly dare. I always knew, and I always pretended not to know. But he would travel cross-country to spend holidays with me, stay up all night when I was sick, and bring food to me on set when I was too busy filming. Although it began hastily, I once believed we would be like any other normal couple. But then, one day, I accidentally overheard Julian’s parents asking him when he planned to marry me. A single, casual sentence completely smashed the entire fantasy castle I had painstakingly built. “No plans for that right now.” Once the fantasy shattered, many things I had intentionally ignored became undeniably clear. On my birthday, he surprised me by traveling from another state, but before I could blow out the candles, Julian was rushed away by a phone call. The night I got sick, he rummaged through all the medicine at home, asking which one I should take, unaware I just had terrible period cramps. When filming was hectic, he secretly brought exquisite takeout to the set. That hotel’s Szechuan cuisine was my favorite, but I had stomach issues then and couldn’t eat anything spicy. I had told him this more than once. I downed the rest of the drink in my glass, feeling terrible inside, and stood up to leave. “What if I chased you instead? Can you give me a chance?” I didn’t understand what he meant by that. If he truly valued this relationship so much, how could we have ended up like this? Unwilling to think any further, I didn’t reply. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but I slept soundly that night. When I woke up the next day, my phone showed several missed calls from Marcus. “I told you to keep your phone on 24/7! Are you deaf?!” I yawned and moved the phone away from my ear. When Marcus finally tired himself out, I leisurely asked, “So, what’s up?” “That female supporting role I just secured for you? The investors want to replace you because of the trouble you caused. I’ve set up a meeting for you tonight. If you can’t satisfy the investor, don’t blame the company for playing dirty.” He spoke with such righteous indignation, but the subtext was painfully obvious. A free dinner? Might as well enjoy it. With the thought of freeloading, I went to this trap dinner. Upon entering, I didn’t immediately spot the investor, but Liam and Chloe were conspicuously obvious. Liam was humbly peeling shrimp, while Chloe, with her legs crossed, acted like some entitled king who couldn’t lift a finger, gesturing for Liam to put the shrimp directly into her mouth. Anyone who knew them would say they were a couple; anyone who didn’t might mistake them for some kind of master-servant dynamic. Wait, Liam hadn’t publicly announced their breakup, and Chloe still maintained a single persona. They couldn’t even claim to be a normal couple. “Aria, you’re here! Come over here, this is Mr. Thompson, the biggest investor in our show.” Someone stood up and enthusiastically pulled me to a seat beside a pot-bellied, middle-aged bald man, then whispered threateningly, “If you can’t keep him happy tonight, not only will you lose the female supporting role, but you won’t last a day in this industry.” Mr. Thompson, standing nearby, made no effort to hide the desire in his eyes. His gaze, thick with lechery, brazenly appraised me. “You’re even prettier in person than on screen.” “Coincidentally, I think so too.” A staff member glared fiercely at me. I remained completely unfazed, burying my head and stuffing my face. Initially, the conversation at the table was quite harmonious. The investor was particularly pleased with Liam and Chloe starring as the male and female leads, lavishing praise upon them. But when the topic of the female supporting role came up, a glint flickered in his eye, and his tone suddenly shifted. “Miss Aria’s public reputation doesn’t seem to be very good lately. I’m concerned about her playing the female supporting role…” Are you kidding? My reputation wasn’t *recently* bad; it had always been terrible. I remained completely unfazed, continuing to eat. And honestly, this place’s food wasn’t bad. “Mr. Thompson, regarding the recent events, our company’s artist will offer you a sincere apology privately.” A flash of cunning appeared in Mr. Thompson’s eyes. “But I vaguely recall that she’s A-list actor Liam’s girlfriend, isn’t she? Wouldn’t this be inappropriate?” The implication couldn’t be clearer. Liam crossed his legs, his eyes filled with contempt, a smug, detached air, as if watching a play. “Mr. Thompson, as long as you’re happy.” “Then I’ll take her.” “Be my guest.” My hands, peeling a lobster, paused. Seriously? My fate was decided in a few words without my consent. Did they really think I was his possession? “Sorry, but I never said I was going to apologize to some creepy bald man. I’m full. I’m leaving.” I hadn’t walked more than a few steps when my wrist was suddenly grabbed. I turned around to see Mr. Thompson grinning slyly. “Quite the personality, aren’t you? Do you really think you can just walk away?” I tried to struggle, but Mr. Thompson’s grip was surprisingly strong. Not only could I not break free, but it hurt. “I suggest you let go.” His flabby body slowly approached me, while everyone else at the round table turned a blind eye. Fortunately, all of this was within my expectations.

The private room door burst open with a loud bang. A shadowy blur shot straight in, kicking Mr. Thompson to the ground, then swiftly unleashed a flurry of punches, landing blow after brutal blow. Immediately after, three to five tall, burly men in black suits entered. Cries for mercy filled the entire room. The others just stood by, watching helplessly, wanting to intervene but too afraid to step forward. “Mike, when did Mom and Dad hire a bodyguard with *that* kind of strength? He’s had enough, tell him to stop.” I couldn’t watch anymore, so I spoke to the head bodyguard. “Miss, he’s not one of ours.” ??? I turned to look at the figure not far away, a suspicion forming in my mind. “That’s enough. I remember you not being so impulsive.” Hearing my voice, Julian finally stopped. To be honest, it was my first time seeing such a ruthless side of him. The Julian in my memories had always been easygoing and calm, as if losing control of his emotions was an impossibility for him. This included when he confessed to me because of a dare, when we first kissed, and even when we broke up. He didn’t spare me a glance, didn’t say anything, just walked out expressionlessly. It was Chloe, however, whose expression subtly changed when she glanced at the watch on Julian’s wrist. That Patek Philippe alone could buy a luxury downtown condo. After Julian left, I knelt beside Mr. Thompson with a look of feigned guilt. “That was a bit too rough.” The next second, with a practiced twist, I snapped his hand. A shriek echoed through the room once more. “Everyone, please continue to enjoy your meal.” I waved goodbye to everyone with a friendly smile. When I walked out of the private room, Julian was already gone. He wasn’t answering his phone, and I was wondering what had gotten into him. Not long after, Chloe came running out and called out to me. “Aria, don’t be so impulsive. If you don’t apologize, not only will you lose the female supporting role you secured, but the company will completely sideline you.” She looked at me with a worried expression, but failed to control the upward curve of her lips. I was all too familiar with the true face beneath that facade. When we were both new hires at the company, she locked me in the dressing room. If Julian hadn’t arrived in time, I would have missed my audition for my debut movie. “I haven’t seen you act so well in your roles, but you’re quite good at pretending. The female lead is yours, Liam is yours, you must be very pleased.” “You misunderstood me.” Despite her words, when she leaned close to my ear, her tone turned chillingly cold. “How glorious you once were, Aria. Now you’re still crushed under my heel. You loved Liam so much, yet he still fell hopelessly in love with me.” I suddenly thought of the shrimp-peeling scene I’d witnessed earlier. Chloe truly seemed to believe she had found true love. “Then enjoy it while you can.” Once you see his true colors, I doubt you’ll be happy anymore. Walking out of the restaurant, Mike couldn’t help but ask, “Miss, are we just going to let this go?” “I have my own plans. And you guys, don’t tell Mom and Dad what happened tonight.” After parting ways with the bodyguard team, I opened my phone’s navigation and walked to a nearby alley. After several twists and turns, I finally reached my destination. A crudely placed sign stood before me, with five words written on it: Mori Private Investigations. Although the location was a bit out of the way, many wealthy socialites liked to hire them to collect evidence of their husbands’ infidelity, so I figured their capabilities must be decent. … It was late at night when I got home. The light by the front door had broken at some point, and I only saw a dark silhouette pacing back and forth. Feeling uneasy, I called a few security guards to surround the area from all sides. Getting closer, I realized it was Julian. The moment he saw me, his eyes reddened and his lips quivered, like a scolded child. “Why are you home so late?” I had never seen Julian drunk before. He reeked of alcohol; I had no idea how much he’d had. After explaining to the security guards, I practically carried him into the house. “Why did you go to that drinking party? I don’t want you to be subjected to that kind of humiliation,” he murmured beside my ear, his breath gently brushing my cheek. I jolted, and my grip loosened, causing Julian to slide quickly down, and with a thud, his head hit the coffee table. That really looked painful. As I helped him up, I faintly heard him apologize and ask what he had done wrong. I paused for a moment. “It’s not your fault. Perhaps I was just overthinking things.” The next morning, the air was permeated with the aroma of food. Watching Julian busy in the kitchen, it felt as though time had suddenly rewound to a year ago. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Don’t worry about the trending topic; I’ve already sent someone to handle it.” “What trending topic?” My heart lurched, and my hand, pulling the chair, paused.

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Caleb vanished on our wedding day. Just like that, I became a public spectacle, the discarded bride. Someone had spotted him, frantically pacing outside the hospital’s labor and delivery ward. I plastered on a smile, explaining to every single relative and friend, one by one: “Yes, it’s true. They had a baby.” Then, I turned to Caleb, tears streaming down my face, begging, “Please, just let me take care of your precious Chloe while she recovers after childbirth, okay?” **Part One** I never imagined that the wedding I’d dreamed of for eight years would be utterly ruined on this bright, beautiful day in May. The banquet hall was packed. Caleb’s mom’s nagging drone filled my ears. “Harper, did you call Caleb?” “What exactly is going on between you two? How can you not show up together on such a big day? Don’t you have any sense of what’s important?” I’d tried calling Caleb a dozen times, but he wasn’t picking up. My palms were sweating, soaking my fluffy phone case. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Ms. Harper, you and Mr. Caleb had a physical exam with us three and a half months ago. Mr. Caleb’s report has been waiting.” I felt my irritation spike. “Alright, I know. Just email it to me at this number.” I hung up and immediately dialed Caleb’s number again. “Caleb’s at the hospital!” a voice boomed. I looked up. It was Uncle Roy, Caleb’s loudmouthed uncle, running in, breathless. “Big sister! Harper! My kid just told me his friend saw Caleb at the labor and delivery ward at the hospital!” What?! Uncle Roy’s voice was so loud, almost every guest in the banquet hall heard him. Everyone stopped talking. The noisy hall fell completely silent. Mrs. Carter froze for a second, then snapped out of it. Muttering curses, she grabbed Uncle Roy and rushed towards the exit, desperate to hail a taxi to the hospital. I felt unsteady on the stage, my ears ringing. I fumbled for the table to steady myself, but my vision went black, and I passed out. How dramatic. The hospital I was rushed to was the exact same one Caleb was at. I was in the emergency room, getting CPR and oxygen, while he was waiting outside the labor and delivery ward for a new life to enter the world. How incredibly ironic was that? In a daze, I heard the machine’s steady beep, my dad and Riley calling my name. Eighteen-year-old Caleb’s image blurred before my eyes. He smiled at me, then turned, running away without looking back. I blinked again, and there was only the piercing light, stinging my eyes. My eight years of youth turned to ashes in that moment. **Part Two** When I woke up, I saw the weirdest scene. My dad, Riley, and Caleb were just standing there, staring at each other. Seeing me struggle to sit up, Caleb walked to my bedside and *thump*, he dropped to his knees. “Harper, please forgive me! I really didn’t mean for this to happen, I love you so much!” Caleb was crying, snot and tears streaming down his face, looking utterly disgusting. My mind was a mess. I waved my hand, and my dad immediately yanked Caleb up from the floor and dragged him out. Silence returned to the room. Riley, peeling an apple for me, said, “He told me that woman is from his hometown. You know, back in freshman year, when you two first met, he and this woman had just broken up.” “She went abroad and came back about six months ago. They met at a class reunion, both got drunk. The organizers thought he wasn’t married, so they put them in the same room. And then…” “They originally agreed to pretend nothing happened and never see each other again, but then they ended up working together.” “Just recently, she told him she was pregnant, already past three months. This was right before you two decided to get married.” “He was planning to keep it a secret, but who knew the baby would be born prematurely.” Riley recounted the story flatly, like she was talking about someone else’s gossip. But my heart twisted in pain, as if Riley’s paring knife wasn’t slicing the apple, but my very soul. Tears dripped onto the white bedsheets. I heard my own hoarse voice, “Is it… Chloe?” Riley popped a small piece of apple into my mouth. “Why ask about something you already know? Do you want to hear it again just to make yourself feel worse?” “Caleb is truly shameless. I remember this Chloe… wasn’t she his ‘foster sister’?” I couldn’t bear to listen. I motioned for Riley to stop, covering my face and sobbing loudly. Riley probably felt irritated too. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, then remembered we were in a hospital room. “Harper, I warned you, but you didn’t listen. Crying now won’t help. Start thinking about what you’re going to do.” With that, she stuck a cigarette in her mouth and left the room. Leaving me sitting on the bed, staring blankly with empty eyes. My phone chimed, a new email. Face ID couldn’t recognize my tear-swollen face. I entered my password and opened it, taking one look. Just that one look, and I felt something gush out from my chest. I opened my mouth, hearing my own chilling laughter. Hahahahaha, what a ridiculous world. **Part Three** When I arrived at the labor and delivery ward, IV drip in hand, I saw Caleb standing outside the room. He had a bruise on his forehead and his lip was slightly swollen. He saw me and walked over, scratching his head. “I’m sorry, Harper. I didn’t fight back. I deserve this. I’m not a good person.” I shook my head, indicating it was fine, and asked, “Boy or girl?” Caleb was shocked by my calmness, staring at me with wide eyes for a while before answering, “It’s a… a boy.” I lowered my head. “That’s great, Caleb. The Carter family has an heir now.” “Don’t you hate me, Harper? I… I really didn’t know this would happen. I thought she’d get an abortion.” “Harper, don’t be so calm. I’m scared, Harper. You… you can hit me, Harper.” Caleb took my hand and tried to put it on his face, but I pulled it away. Hate? How could I not hate him? On the most important day of my life, after eight years of waiting, at the wedding I’d meticulously prepared for three months, I found out my fiancé had cheated on me. Not only that, he’d already had a child. So much so that I was lying in a hospital bed, making phone calls with my dad to explain to every relative. Yes, Caleb had a child with another woman. How utterly absurd. Through the half-open door of the hospital room, I saw Mrs. Carter bustling around Chloe’s bed, unable to hide the wide smile on her face. “What do you think, Caleb? Is your mom happy? Finally, she doesn’t have to worry about me not being able to have children.” Three months ago, Caleb and I had our physical exams. We agreed that if there were no issues, we’d start trying for a baby. Once I was pregnant, I’d quit my job. I even had a big fight with Riley over this. She’s been my best friend since we were seven or eight, and she’d watched Caleb and me go from college sweethearts to this. She couldn’t understand why I’d give up a job paying tens of thousands a month, and promotion opportunities, just to have a baby. I told her, “Riley, the Carter family has relied on a male heir for generations, and there’s immense pressure for me to have a son if I’m going to marry Caleb.” But who knew I’d be diagnosed with polycystic ovaries during my exam? Caleb’s exam report was delayed due to a hospital error, but Mrs. Carter didn’t care about any of that. During the proposal, she insisted on setting the ‘groom’s gift’ embarrassingly low. Meanwhile, my family’s contribution to our marriage was far more substantial: a large downtown condo where Caleb and I were living, an SUV, a few pounds of gold, and two hundred thousand dollars. I secretly asked my dad why he agreed. My dad huffed and puffed, eyes wide with anger. “You’ve been living with him for three or four years! If you don’t marry Caleb, who else will you marry? People will just see you as damaged goods!” In short, the wedding still happened. Mrs. Carter, who had stubbornly refused the marriage, finally relented after I promised I would definitely have a son to continue the Carter family line. I just never expected it to turn out like this today. Caleb’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts. “Harper, I’m so sorry. I’ll make things right.” Caleb lowered his head. “Make things right? What do you mean?” Mrs. Carter just walked out of Chloe’s room, saw Caleb’s regretful face and my expressionless one, and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, the wedding didn’t happen, so just divorce him,” Mrs. Carter said. I was shocked, biting my lower lip. “No, we can’t divorce.” How could I just divorce like this? This was the outcome I’d spent eight years of my youth on. It shouldn’t end so hastily. I took a deep breath and said, “Let’s stay together, Caleb, I don’t mind.” “I can hire a postpartum nurse for Chloe, or send her to a recovery center. I can even care for her during her recovery, as long as we don’t separate.” As I spoke, tears welled up again.

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Julian Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Industries, had a thing for dead women. Don’t believe me? Then why was he clutching my tombstone, sobbing like a lost child, just like when my sister passed? **1.** “Playing hard to get? Ellie Vance, you’ve worn that trick out. Can’t you come up with something new?” I held the divorce papers out to Julian. He didn’t take them, merely sweeping his gaze over the bold words at the top, a sneer twisting his lips. For three years, I’d seen that expression countless times. Whenever that familiar sneer appeared, the words that spilled from his sexy, thin lips would turn into poisoned daggers, piercing my soul with every syllable. I fought to ignore the dull, aching pain in my chest, stubbornly holding the papers out further. Julian snatched the document, his long fingers moving swiftly, tearing the meticulously drafted agreement into shreds. He then violently flung the pieces at my face. Paper shards fluttered, covering my hair and clothes. “You want a divorce? Over my dead body!” Those were his last words before he slammed the door shut and left. The sharp shards, carried by the force, became paper blades, slicing a red line just below my eye. Warm liquid trickled, and a searing sting spread from the wound. But Julian, I’m already dying. I crouched down, picking up the scattered pieces of paper one by one and tossing them into the trash. Blood was still seeping from the cut on my face. I grabbed two tissues and carelessly wiped it away, but the blood kept flowing. Finally, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I collapsed to the floor, clutching my head, and sobbed uncontrollably. Julian, you hate me so much, why won’t you let me go? A wave of emotions overwhelmed me, dizziness flooding my mind. Before my consciousness faded, I fumbled for my phone and struggled to make that call. When I woke, the blinding white of the hospital room filled my vision. Sunlight poured gently through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow, even gilding the perfectly blooming orchid by my bed with a gentle golden edge. I was staring blankly at the orchid when Leo Vance walked in. “So, you finally decided to wake up?” I twisted my lips into a smile. “Don’t be so grumpy.” He slammed a stack of papers on the bed – my leukemia diagnosis, medical records, and payment receipts. “When did this happen?” I tilted my head, thinking. “Early last month, I guess.” “If you knew then, why weren’t you hospitalized for treatment? Ellie, do you really want to die *that* badly?” Knowing he had a point, I shrunk my neck. “Leo, watch your tone. I’m a patient, and your own sister, for goodness sake. Can’t you be a little softer?” “Half-blood barely makes us sisters,” Leo scoffed, turning his head, but I clearly saw his eyes were red-rimmed. Leo is my half-brother, the illegitimate son of my unreliable father. His mother came from a family of prominent academics; she unknowingly became the other woman. When she learned the truth, she proudly took her own life by jumping from a building. When he was brought to our house, he was stubborn and withdrawn. My mother, naturally, had no affection for this illegitimate child, so he faced a lot of animosity from her. My father was busy with his business, rarely home, and my sister, Charlotte, was constantly shuttled between various finishing schools and social etiquette classes. The only one who would talk to him back then was me, the resident slacker. “I’ve arranged your hospitalization,” Leo said after a brief silence. “I’ve paid for three months upfront. Let me know if you need more. I’ll come visit whenever I can.” As my father’s only son, he had already started taking over company affairs, becoming Vice President at a young age. “Oh, Mr. Vance, always flaunting those deep pockets,” I teased with a laugh. “But honestly, I probably won’t live that long anyway. Three months? I won’t last that long.” “Shut up!” His eyes blazed crimson as he glared at me, furious. “Stop saying such depressing things!” I smiled indifferently. “It’s okay, Leo.” This tall young man, who seemed so strong, just stood there staring at me until tears streamed down his face. He buried his head in the covers beside me, sobbing uncontrollably. “Ellie, you’ll be okay. We can cure this. Don’t leave me…” The orchid on the nightstand gave off a faint, delightful fragrance. I reached out and gently stroked Leo’s hair. “Okay, I won’t leave you, Leo.” The big guy, somewhat appeased, still looked a bit awkward. He stopped crying and stammered about going to buy me food. I nodded, agreeing readily.

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“Ms. Hazel Nelson, are you certain you want to serve as the test subject for this research project? I must warn you upfront that participating in this project has only one outcome—you will travel to any random time and space, disappearing from the modern world. The company executives still hope you’ll reconsider…” Before the staff member could finish, I cut him off: “No need to think about it. Disappearing is exactly what I want.” Only this way would my husband Timothy Roberts and son Laurence Roberts be unable to find me. The voice on the other end was clearly surprised, but maintained professional composure: “There’s one more thing I need to explain. After you disappear, everyone in this world except those who love you and those who hate you will forget you completely. Can you still accept this?” I thought to myself: “Who in this world still loves me? Those who hate me… maybe there are some.” I gave a self-mocking smile: “I can accept that.” The staff member said: “Very well, Ms. Nelson. The project will officially launch in ten days. We look forward to your arrival.” After hanging up, the tech company sent me an electronic liability waiver. This meant that even if I entered the time machine and died accidentally during the journey, the company wouldn’t bear any responsibility, and my family would have no right to pursue legal action—everything was voluntary on both sides. After a moment’s hesitation, I signed my name decisively. Once the project launched, Timothy, Laurence, and I would never meet again in life or death—exactly what I wanted. Lost in thought, I returned to the bedroom from the balcony, only to be swept up by Timothy and placed on the bed. His eyes burned with desire, and what would happen next was obvious. Nausea rose in my stomach. “I’m tired. I want to sleep early.” In ten years of marriage, I had never refused him once, but this time, ignoring his bewildered expression, I turned my back to him and lay down. He said: “Are you really angry? I admit I shouldn’t have skipped the movie with you over a little work issue. To make it up to you, I’ll have that brand you love most deliver their latest handbag collection to you tomorrow. Forgive me, okay?” His tone was gentle and pleading. I gave a perfunctory “mm-hmm.” “I knew you were easy to please.” His eyes were full of tenderness as he wrapped his arm around my waist and buried his head in the crook of my neck to sleep. He would never know that a woman’s willingness to be appeased is built on her love for the man. But now, he had long passed the point where he could “appease” me, far beyond the line where I could forgive him. Three nights ago, I groggily got up in the middle of the night to find my son Laurence—whom I had carried for ten months—holding a woman’s photograph, gazing at it with longing. The woman in the photo wasn’t me. Timothy looked on with satisfaction, praising: “You’ve really grown up, finally realizing how wonderful Lauren is.” Laurence said: “Dad, every time you tell me stories about you and Lauren, I feel so happy. Not like that woman who only nags me about studying—she’s so annoying!” The blood in my veins turned ice cold, and my heart clenched in pain. If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I never would have believed that my well-behaved, sweet Laurence despised me so completely in private. Watching Timothy open a thick German book and Laurence carefully slip the photograph inside, I finally understood why this book was always placed on the highest shelf, and why Timothy and Laurence claimed to hate German. They had repeated it several times because they knew that anything they disliked, I would never touch. Using my love for them to hurt me—is this how my closest family punishes me? Tears streamed down my cheeks like broken pearls, yet I never found the courage to voice my questions. Only after Timothy and Laurence had fallen asleep did I gather the strength to examine that photograph carefully. The familiar spaghetti strap made my eyes widen instantly. Timothy’s friend’s words from our wedding day echoed endlessly in my ears: “More influential than a first love is a dead first love.” It turned out that meaningful remark was meant for me, and today it was proven true. Because the woman in the photograph was Timothy’s deceased first love—Lauren Lynch. A bitter smile crossed my lips as everything became clear. Lauren was the first love Timothy could never forget. This name permeated every corner of my life, omnipresent. My son was named Laurence, Timothy’s computer password was “Lauren,” and even our wedding rings were engraved with the name Lauren. I had always thought this reflected Timothy’s deep love for our son, his cherishing of our love’s fruit. I had once felt sweet about it. Turns out everything he did was to commemorate his first love. My so-called sweetness was nothing but a complete joke. Before meeting Timothy, I had already heard about his story with his first love. Given my personality, I wouldn’t pursue a man whose heart belonged to someone else. Not until Lauren died in a car accident. I was promoted to department manager after landing a major deal, and under my boss’s guidance, I participated in numerous business collaborations, including with Roberts Group. Through our interactions, Timothy and I became acquainted. He officially began pursuing me after Christmas. Besides jewelry and accessories that women love, he also used business contracts to win my favor. Any collaboration that went through me, he would sign without even looking. To make him back down, I imposed many harsh conditions, all of which he agreed to. Projects that should have been highly profitable became losses, and he nearly got kicked out by his parents. I pretended not to know about his difficult situation. He remained gentle and soft-spoken as always, never speaking harshly to me, never showing impatience, indulging my reckless behavior in business dealings, which led to my rapid promotion from manager to company vice president in just a few months, my status rising dramatically. Discovering my reservations about him, he even declared in a public interview that he would marry no one but me. Countless netizens cheered for our love story, and I had no choice but to give a definitive answer—I rejected Timothy. He couldn’t believe I was so resolute and insisted on knowing why. I said, “Your previous relationship was too passionate and dramatic. I don’t want my future husband to forever hold a place in his heart for his first love.” Timothy said, “I can’t deny the facts of the past, but I can guarantee, Hazel, that you will be the only true love of my life.” I asked, “Can you really forget her?” He said, “Yes! For you, I can do anything.” He made such sincere and passionate vows countless times. What truly moved me was an accident. That day, we attended a jewelry gala together. To secure a partnership with the Riffins couple, I brought the only memento my parents had left me—a hairpin adorned with a rare ruby. Due to the makeup artist’s improper placement, the hairpin fell from mid-air just as Timothy and I got out of the car and walked toward the venue. By the time I noticed and turned back to look for it, it was too late. A luxury car following closely behind was about to crush the hairpin. In that moment, I could almost hear the sound of the gemstone shattering. At the critical moment, Timothy threw himself forward without hesitation and saved the hairpin. But he didn’t escape unscathed. Three of his ribs were fractured, and his arm was bleeding profusely, the wound so deep you could see bone. As he was being loaded into the ambulance, he specifically asked his personal assistant Alex Brewer to stay behind and help me complete the partnership deal. He was even worried that his parents would develop deeper prejudices against me because of this, so he went through the surgery and stitching all alone. I actually believed he could forget his first love. Under the dim glow of the night light, I could still clearly see that scar running across his arm. Ten years had passed, yet that wound hadn’t faded in the slightest. And my heart had long since died. After tonight, there would be nine more days. Once I left, they could continue living with Lauren’s photograph. I believed this would be a result everyone could accept. In the morning, Timothy got up and tucked the covers around me, habitually giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead. Laurence ran over and mimicked Timothy’s actions, then was promptly urged by him to go to school. “Laurence, you’re going to be late again!” Timothy stood at the doorway, looking at us with helpless yet doting eyes. Such ordinary, warm daily routines played out every day. I used to think this was the happiest life possible. But now, I only found it ironic. I thought that after making my decision, I could face them with complete composure, but I ultimately overestimated my control over my emotions. Especially when the name Laurence came from Timothy’s mouth again and again, I felt as if I were being pierced by countless arrows, the pain making it impossible to breathe. In the bathroom, I threw away the toothpaste Timothy squeezed out for me every day into the trash can. Just as I was about to turn and leave, I was drawn by some commotion in the living room and walked out. The room was empty except for a pile of luxury handbags scattered across the living room. Unfortunately, I had no desire whatsoever to open this roomful of “apology gifts” he had presumptively sent over. As I turned to leave, I saw a note on the table. [I wasn’t able to go to the movies with you before. I’ll clear my afternoon schedule to spend time with you. Hazel, wait for me to finish up, and I’ll come pick you up at the company.] For these final days, let’s leave each other with some dignity. I had no intention of refusing, but since I was about to leave anyway, why bother continuing this charade with them? I called Timothy. “You don’t need to pick me up at the company. I finished my resignation paperwork yesterday. Just come home to get me.” He was momentarily stunned, then his voice clearly brightened with joy. “After all this time, you’ve finally decided to quit. You don’t know how happy I am every day when I come home from work and see you. From now on, I can keep you by my side every day.” I let out a soft laugh, tinged with sarcasm. Then cherish your so-called happiness. Because starting today, I’ll be waiting for you to come home every night. After all, you only have a few days left in your life to experience this “happiness.” That afternoon, he came back to pick me up. Our first stop was the movie theater, to make up for the film we hadn’t been able to see together. I had expected this, but I hadn’t anticipated how interesting the movie’s content would be. The male protagonist in the film was emotionally unfaithful, unable to forget his former lover, wavering between two women. I stared masochistically at the screen, not missing a single frame. As the plot progressed, Timothy’s expression grew increasingly cold. “How did Alex choose this movie? He can’t even handle such a simple task!” “Really? I think it’s quite good.” I smiled faintly and turned to ask him, “If you were the male lead, who would you choose in the end?” Timothy froze for a moment. I continued, “Would you choose the passionate, enchanting former lover, beautiful as a rose, or the wife who has been by your side for years?” He smiled then, his eyes full of affection. “I’m not the male lead, so I can’t make his choice for him. But Hazel, you know that without you, I couldn’t survive. No matter who you’re compared to, you’re my only answer.” He indeed wasn’t the male lead. Compared to the protagonist in the film who deceived his wife while entangling himself with his first love, Timothy, this liar, was far more sophisticated in his methods. I said, “Really? But from what I know about you, you seem to prefer that alluring, blooming rose.” I wore a faint smile, as if it were just a casual remark, yet it made Timothy squirm uncomfortably. After the movie ended, he hurriedly pulled me away, trying to cheer me up with thrilling activities at an amusement park. We rode the roller coaster and the drop tower, not missing a single ride. I used to genuinely enjoy these things. But honestly, he was terribly afraid of heights. The day he proposed to me years ago was at an amusement park. I had jokingly said, “Want me to say yes to your proposal? Ride the roller coaster with me first.” It was just a casual joke, but he took it seriously. After that four-minute roller coaster ride, he threw up for a full half hour. That was the only time he ever rode it with me. Memories came flooding back, making my eyes well up with tears, nearly making me cry again. I said, “Are you really willing to…” “Ride it with me one more time?” Before I could finish the second half of my sentence, his phone rang and interrupted me. I’d never been on a roller coaster, but I found myself in a taxi instead. Timothy took a phone call and hurried off, leaving me standing there alone. This was the first time something like this had ever happened. I told the driver to follow his car at a distance. The route became increasingly familiar, and eventually the car stopped at the entrance to our residential community. A security guard was blocking a mother and daughter from entering. The guard said, “This is an upscale community. I know all the homeowners’ parents. You two are trying to impersonate family members, but you’ve come to the wrong place!” The mother and daughter refused to back down. Just as the guard was at his wit’s end, Timothy walked over, and the guard finally breathed a sigh of relief, greeting him with a smile. But Timothy walked straight toward the mother and daughter, his eyes full of concern: “Camila, Grace.” They turned around, and I recognized them immediately—Camila Lynch and Grace Lynch, the mother and sister of Timothy’s beloved first love, Lauren. It wasn’t for any other reason than that the young girl bore a face seventy percent similar to Lauren’s. Before I could think further, she had already sweetly linked her arm through Timothy’s: “Timothy, if you hadn’t come, that security guard would have bullied us terribly!” “It’s okay, don’t be afraid. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His tone was gentle, full of indulgence. Facing that face, he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word: “How did you two get here?” Camila let out a heavy sigh: “It’s all Lauren’s father’s fault. He took all the money you gave us and gambled it away again—a whole million dollars! He lost every penny! What are we going to do next month?” Grace shivered at just the right moment, making Timothy’s heart ache. He said, “Don’t worry about the money. Let’s go inside and talk. Grace, you’re shivering from the cold.” Grace said, “I like you the most! You care about me the most!” She smiled like a blooming flower, momentarily captivating Timothy. At that moment, his mind was probably filled entirely with thoughts of his first love. I watched helplessly as Timothy led them through our front door. I figured I’d be getting a text from him soon. Sure enough, my phone buzzed shortly after. [Hazel, I have some urgent business to handle, so I can’t spend time with you right now. But I’ve already sent Alex over—he’ll show you a good time.] Your urgent business is entertaining Lauren’s family while having Alex distract me so I can’t come home? I forced down the pain in my heart. The moment my phone screen went black, it reflected my pale face. I could no longer deceive myself. From the moment he saw them, from the moment he gazed at that face seventy percent similar to Lauren’s and fell into reminiscence, from the moment I realized he’d been secretly supporting Lauren’s family all these years—it had all been a slow, silent torture. After our marriage, Timothy voluntarily handed over management of our household finances to me. I knew every expense. But every month, a million dollars would mysteriously disappear. When I asked about it, he would gently wrap his arms around my waist from behind, looking aggrieved: “Those friends of mine have been picking on me. They’re jealous of my happy family, so they always make me pick up the tab.” The places this group frequented were expensive, so spending a million dollars a month seemed reasonable enough. But why was Timothy always the one paying? Did they think my husband was a pushover? I was indignant at the time and gave them a piece of my mind that very night, standing up for Timothy. But that million-dollar monthly expense continued. I began to suspect, but one sentence from him put my guard down again: “It’s fine, Hazel. Every million dollars we spend each month, I’ll earn back in business.” I thought men’s affairs should be left for them to handle. So I marked that million dollars as a fixed monthly expense, and it continued for ten whole years. How ridiculous—our marital assets had been supporting his dead first love’s family all along. Sharp pain shot through my palm. I unclenched my tightly gripped fist to find my palm covered in bloody marks. But no matter how much it hurt, it couldn’t compare to even one ten-thousandth of the tearing pain in my heart.

Timothy called me: “Hazel, where are you? Alex is already at the amusement park but couldn’t find you.” I said while walking upstairs, “It was too cold outside, so I came home first.” “You went home?” His voice carried tension and panic. “Yeah, I’m already at the front door,” I said. As I fumbled for my keys to unlock the door, I heard Laurence’s anxious voice from inside: “What should we do? What if Mom kicks them out? Grace looks so much like Lauren—I don’t want her to leave!” Timothy’s voice came softly, trying to comfort him: “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to make them stay.” The moment I pushed open the door, Laurence immediately put on his well-behaved act, taking my bag from my hands and running off to put it away. Timothy personally helped me change into slippers: “Hazel, we have relatives visiting. I’ll introduce you to them in a bit.” “So mysterious? Even I haven’t met them?” I forced a smile, maintaining basic courtesy. But Laurence seemed afraid I’d get suspicious and quickly ran over to take my hand: “They’re Dad’s distant relatives! Mom, you know Dad’s family is huge—it’s totally normal that you haven’t met them.” With that, he led me into the living room, where I immediately saw a mother and daughter. They sat there with the air of hosts, their gazes fixed directly on me with wariness and defiance, only quickly restraining themselves when Timothy looked their way. I glanced at Timothy, and he seized the opportunity to introduce them according to his pre-rehearsed story: “This is my aunt Camila, and next to her is her daughter Grace. They’ve been back in the country for a while now, and they specially made time to visit us.” Camila kept smiling—a smile that, to the uninformed, might seem genuine: “Yes, seeing how loving you two are as a couple puts my mind at ease!” Then she pretended to check the time: “It’s getting late. Grace, we shouldn’t disturb their rest any longer.” Just as she was about to get up and leave, Timothy and Laurence exchanged glances, and Laurence suddenly rushed over to hug Grace’s thigh: “Mom, I really like Grace the moment I saw her. Please let her stay!” Timothy and Laurence took turns speaking, clearly having already made the decision for me. Grace stayed, supposedly because she couldn’t bear to leave Laurence. But honestly, was it really my son she couldn’t bear to leave? That evening, Grace sat on the sofa in revealing clothes, playing happily with Laurence while occasionally glancing at Timothy. The fabric on her legs kept sliding down with her deliberate movements—I could even clearly see her underwear. Timothy noticed her behavior too. With just one look, the nanny understood and took Laurence upstairs. Before leaving, Laurence was still worried about Timothy and the woman who was seducing his father. He said: “Dad, Mom’s definitely asleep by now. You better seize this opportunity!” Only after Laurence’s figure disappeared at the top of the stairs did Timothy begin scolding Grace: “Lauren would never do something so degrading, let alone seduce a married man. As her sister…” “Timothy, do you think I’m cheap? But I’m clearly trying to protect Lauren’s man for her.” Grace’s slender fingers gently traced across Timothy’s chest, her gaze seductive. She said: “Why don’t you just pretend I’m Lauren? Looking at this face, don’t you want to do something to me?” One moment, Timothy was speaking with righteous conviction and unwavering determination. The next, he easily crossed his final moral boundary because of a face that bore a seventy percent resemblance to his first love. In the room separated from my bedroom by only a wall, their intimate sounds drifted over intermittently, amplified endlessly in my ears. My stomach immediately churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom, where physical discomfort mixed with psychological revulsion. I hunched over the toilet, dry heaving with reddened eyes. When I stood up, dizziness overwhelmed me, and I stumbled, knocking over an uncapped bottle of spaghetti sauce that scattered across the floor. This happened to interrupt their passionate encounter. The sultry moaning stopped abruptly. “What was that noise?” Timothy seemed to remember something and suddenly grew tense. “Hazel?” Footsteps approached, hurried and panicked. “Hazel?” He ran over barefoot and, seeing the glass shards scattered everywhere, immediately pulled me into his arms. “How could you be so careless? Are you hurt?” When I didn’t respond, he anxiously examined me from head to toe. A small cut on my hand made him extremely nervous. “You’re bleeding?” I had been desperately suppressing my inner anguish, but a tear still silently fell onto the back of his hand. As if burned, he immediately looked up at me, anxious and heartbroken. “Hazel, don’t cry! I’ll get the first aid kit right now.” He didn’t know that no medicine could heal the wound in my heart. Taking advantage of Timothy’s absence, Grace walked in with a smile, the lingering flush on her face stinging my eyes. She slowly crouched down in front of me, brazenly asserting her dominance right in front of me, his wife. “You’ve known who I am all along, haven’t you? Then you should also understand that Timothy was always mine. If Lauren hadn’t died when I was still young, how could Timothy have married you? So you’d better behave yourself and stop trying to get his attention.” My long-suppressed grievances completely spiraled out of control after hearing these words, and I demanded, “What gives you the right to warn me? Just because of that face?” As soon as the words left my mouth, a flash of shock and resentment crossed her face, and her gaze became aggressive, as if I were the one destroying someone else’s family. She shouted, “That’s enough!” Before I could react, I watched helplessly as she picked up a glass shard from the floor and unhesitatingly slashed it toward her face, followed by a piercing scream. “Don’t cut my face! Please! Don’t cut my face!” Hearing the commotion, Timothy rushed in and went straight to Grace. She cried pitifully. “Timothy, what should I do? Am I going to be disfigured?” Timothy’s eyes were full of heartache, and without asking for any explanation, he scolded me: “When did you become so vicious?”

I said, “What if I told you I didn’t do it? Would you believe me?” Timothy replied, “What woman would mess with her own face as a joke? If you didn’t do it, did she hurt herself?” His tone—both questioning and accusatory—left me speechless for a moment. I wanted to say “check the security footage,” but in the end, I kept quiet. The man who once promised he’d always trust me gave me a cold look, picked up Grace, and left with the first aid kit. Turns out his “always” had an expiration date too. I watched them walk away, then slowly turned my gaze to the calendar on the corner of the table. Three more days. During this tense period between Timothy and me, it seemed like the lady of the house had been replaced. Laurence and Timothy acted like I didn’t exist, while Grace laughed happily around the father and son. Only I felt like an outsider. It wasn’t until the evening of the second day that Timothy reluctantly took my hand: “Hazel, this whole thing was your fault to begin with. Just apologize to Grace and we can put this behind us, okay?” “You’re awfully eager for me to apologize. That doesn’t seem like typical concern from a cousin to his cousin,” I said flatly. Timothy’s expression clearly stiffened: “Hazel, don’t let your imagination run wild. She’s finally visiting our home, and now her face is injured. If Camila finds out, it’ll disrupt family harmony.” “Disrupt harmony?” I thought to myself. What you’re really worried about is whether that face—so similar to your first love—will be scarred. Ever since Grace’s face was injured, she’d been deliberately making excuses not to get treatment, saying that since I couldn’t stand looking at her face, she simply wouldn’t bother treating it. She was obviously trying to disgust me and force me to apologize. Timothy must have seen through this too, which is why he had no choice but to come to me today. He said, “Hazel, just go apologize to Grace.” I said, “Okay.” He seemed surprised that I’d agreed so easily and was momentarily stunned. A flicker of inexplicable unease crossed his mind, but it quickly disappeared, as if it had never been there. He immediately returned to his usual intimacy: “That’s wonderful, Hazel. Don’t fight with us anymore, okay? You have no idea how upset we’ve been these past two days when you wouldn’t talk to us or acknowledge us. Laurence cried twice, and I’ve been miserable too.” Timothy looked up at me, as if afraid something might affect my mood. I said, “You know I’m a germaphobe—both physically and emotionally. Once something gets dirty, I won’t want it anymore.” His expression grew tense, showing a panic I’d never seen before, and he immediately held me tight: “That won’t happen, Hazel. Don’t abandon Laurence and me. We can’t live without you.” I smiled, my tone gentle but my eyes completely cold: “Of course I know that. You’re not that kind of person. You wouldn’t have feelings for someone else, and you’d never cheat. Laurence would never accept another woman as his mother either.” As soon as I finished speaking, Timothy’s arms around me began to tremble slightly. He tightened his embrace and said with reluctance yet determination: “Let’s have Grace go home tomorrow. I still hope our family of three won’t be disturbed by outsiders.” I said: “Alright, then come home early. We’ll have dinner together—I’ll wait at home for you and Laurence.” I agreed so readily because tomorrow was the day I would leave. That dinner would be the last meal the three of us would share together. On the morning of my departure, Laurence hugged me reluctantly: “Mom, see you tonight. I’ll think about you every moment at school.” I nodded expressionlessly and quietly slipped a severance agreement into his backpack. He asked curiously: “Mom, what did you put in my bag?” I said: “A gift for you.” He asked: “Does Dad have one too?” I said: “Of course.” After Laurence left, I quietly placed a divorce agreement on Timothy’s study desk. At noon, I began thoroughly removing all traces of myself from the house: jewelry, clothes, hats, photos, paintings, even the fresh flowers I had arranged in the living room. Everything that belonged to me was packed up and sent to a disposal center. What I needed to do was completely disappear from their lives. After finishing all this, I spent the entire afternoon until evening preparing our final dinner together. However, when the appointed time came, neither of them returned home. I made three phone calls, and Grace finally answered: “Are you annoying or what? Timothy came with me to the cemetery to visit Lauren, and he won’t be coming home tonight. If you want to wait, wait until dawn.” I asked: “What about Laurence? He…” She said: “He’s here too, of course.” The call ended, and my arm slowly dropped. The appetizing dishes on the table now seemed glaringly irritating, so I dumped them all into the trash can. The only brightness was extinguished. Looking around, the entire room was left with only black and white, and within this cold palette, traces of the laughter I once shared with Timothy and Laurence still lingered. Before I knew it, tears blurred my vision, only to be silently wiped away. The clock struck eight with a soft “tick”—this was my final deadline to leave. The tech specialist sent a message: [Ms. Nelson, time’s up. You still have a chance to change your mind.] I replied: [No, I’m ready.] Then I sent Timothy one final message: [I’m leaving. We’ll never see each other again.] I decisively snapped my phone card in half, turned around without a trace of nostalgia, my eyes filled only with resolve. The car carried me toward Sunrise Technology and toward an unknown future. Since they chose to miss this final chance to see me, there would be no more chances. Because from now on, I would no longer be Timothy’s wife, nor would I be Laurence’s mother. I would simply be Hazel—the one who had completely disappeared. From this day forward, no one would ever be able to find my trace again.

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Alice Ross, the new teacher at our school, claims she can understand what crows say and predict the future. During final exams, she told our colleagues: “In half an hour, Dylan Fraser will be caught cheating by Luna and dragged out to stand as punishment. The humiliation will drive Dylan to jump off the building and commit suicide.” Luna Martin—that’s my name. Soon enough, I discovered the small note Dylan had hidden in his pencil case. Under my harsh criticism, Dylan indeed jumped from the top floor in shame. His parents, Harvey Fraser and Grace Fraser, believed I had driven him to his death. They came to the school in fury, but Alice said: “The crows told me that parents consumed by grief will surely make Luna pay with her life.” Once again, her prediction came true. Harvey and Grace pushed me down the stairs, leaving me severely injured. My husband Carter Hunter was frantic and rushed me to the hospital. But Alice blocked the car door, saying: “You need to think this through. Your wife has been having an affair and has contracted AIDS.” Carter believed her words, and sure enough, abnormalities were found in my blood test. In the end, Carter divorced me, and I died from excessive blood loss. Alice’s step-by-step successful predictions made her an instant internet sensation. Many people paid big money just to get her prophecies. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Alice claimed she could understand crow language. “Luna, I suggest you don’t go in to proctor the exam. Otherwise, you won’t be able to handle the consequences.” Alice rudely blocked me from entering the examination room. “Alice, she’s the homeroom teacher. This is a major Christmas-level exam. You can’t stop her from proctoring,” said Albert Brown, another proctor. Alice frowned and stamped her foot: “This concerns a student’s life. I must stop her. “You all have to believe what I’m saying. I can understand what that crow in the school’s big tree is saying. It makes prophecies. “Just now, it told me that half an hour after the exam starts, Luna will discover Dylan cheating, drag him out of the exam room, and criticize him publicly. In the end, Dylan will jump off the building and commit suicide.” Hearing the familiar prophecy, I froze as I was about to enter the classroom. So I had been reborn. I said: “Alice, I suspect you’ve been reading too many fairy tales.” Faced with my skepticism, Alice sighed: “Haven’t you all noticed there are especially many crows today? They flew here because they know someone will die today.” Albert was dismissive of her words and tugged at my sleeve: “Don’t pay attention to her. The exam is about to start.” Sure enough, half an hour later, I noticed Dylan acting suspiciously. I opened his pencil case and found the small note covered with answers. In my previous life, I had taken Dylan out of the classroom for criticism and education, made him stand as punishment for an hour, and confiscated his exam paper. This time, I simply quietly took away the note. I brought him outside the classroom and spoke to him gently for a moment, then let him go back in to continue the exam. All the students were focused on their test and didn’t notice what had happened. I thought that by preserving Dylan’s dignity this time, he wouldn’t commit suicide again. Just to be safe, I specifically ran to guard the teaching building where he had jumped in my previous life. But I didn’t see him there. Just when I thought I could save Dylan in this life, commotion erupted from the direction of the laboratory building. A teacher ran over in panic: “You need to go look quickly. A student jumped off the building, and it seems to be one of your students.” My eyes widened as I rushed toward the laboratory building. Dylan lay on the ground covered in blood, still coughing up blood from his mouth. Alice arrived at that moment too. Seeing the scene, she shoved me hard: “What did I tell you? I told you not to proctor the exam, not to hurt his self-esteem, but you just wouldn’t listen. Now what do you have to say? “As a teacher, you need not only solid professional knowledge but also noble character and conduct. You criticized him publicly. How could his young heart possibly handle that?” I wasn’t listening to what she was saying, only asking myself over and over: “Why did the tragedy still happen even though I was prepared? Where exactly did things go wrong?” At that moment, the doctors arrived. They performed emergency measures on Dylan. After a long ten minutes, they shook their heads and pronounced Dylan dead.

I leaned against the wall in silence, feeling utterly helpless. Even though I had changed my approach, why couldn’t I change the inevitable outcome? Albert, who was proctoring the exam with me, rushed over as well. Seeing Dylan’s lifeless body, he was in complete disbelief. He patted my shoulder and said, “Try to look on the bright side.” With tears in my eyes, I said, “I really didn’t criticize him. I even gave him a second chance to take the exam. But why did he still kill himself?” Albert sighed and said, “Maybe everyone has their own destiny.” After saying this, he looked at Alice with amazement in his eyes. He was beginning to believe that she could understand the crows and had prophetic abilities. Seeing my dejected state, Alice said angrily, “When I told you to believe me, you chose to ignore my words. Now he’s dead. What good does your guilt do? You need to improve your teaching methods going forward. “After his funeral is handled, his parents will definitely come to the school. You’d better think about what you’re going to say then.” I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, holding my head, unable to understand any of it. Yesterday, only Dylan and I knew about his cheating incident – it didn’t disturb anyone else in the exam room. When we talked outside the classroom, I was very gentle. Not only did I forgive his cheating, but I also let him return to the exam. I didn’t hurt his self-esteem at all, so there’s no way he would jump off a building because of this. That day, I sat alone in my office in a daze when I heard a commotion outside. Dylan’s mother Grace was grabbing Albert and crying loudly, “How old was my child? How could he suddenly die? What did your school do to drive my child to choose suicide? He’s just gone like that. How am I supposed to live? “Next month would have been his birthday. We had planned to go to the amusement park together. If it weren’t for you people, how could he bear to leave me and kill himself? “I entrusted my child to this school in good faith. Is this how responsible you are? How can you face the trust we parents placed in you? “You must give me an explanation today. What exactly drove my child to suicide?” I quickly ran outside and found that many people had already gathered outside the office. Seeing Grace crying so miserably, I felt extremely guilty, but there was nothing I could do. Albert looked at me with difficulty, “She’s Dylan’s homeroom teacher. She’ll explain the whole situation to you. I’m very sorry. We’re all deeply saddened by what happened.” Grace let go of Albert and rushed toward me, pushing me to the ground. She asked viciously, “Tell me! What exactly did you do to my son that made him not want to live anymore?” Before I could get up to answer, Alice jumped in first and said, “Your child jumped because Luna publicly criticized him, and he was heartbroken.”

“What?” Dylan’s father Harvey kicked me as I lay on the ground after hearing the whole story. I immediately curled up in pain. Grace shouted with hatred, “You owe my son his life! As a teacher, how could you hurt a child’s self-esteem like that? Do you have any professional ethics at all?” She grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall. I tried to fight back, but Harvey joined in too. The two of them were too strong—I couldn’t resist at all. Grace kept hitting me while cursing, “He’s our only son. You murderer killed him, so we want your life! If you have any conscience left, go to hell and apologize to him.” At that moment, I heard Alice frantically grabbing Albert, saying, “What should we do? I just heard the crow again. It said if they keep beating her like this, they’ll definitely kill Luna.” In my previous life, the office was located close to the stairwell. During the struggle, that’s where they pushed me down. In this life, I deliberately stayed far from the stairwell. After all, when people get angry, they lose their rationality and might do anything. Because he believed Alice’s prophecy, Albert hurried to pull Harvey and Grace apart, afraid that another tragedy would happen at the school. Albert said while pulling them, “Please calm down. None of us wanted Dylan to get hurt, but what’s done is done. Even if you beat her to death, Dylan won’t come back to life.” Harvey slapped him and roared, “You’re colleagues, of course you’d protect her. I’m warning you—as vice principal, you’re enabling your teachers to abuse children. If you don’t make her resign and apologize to my son, I’ll not only report you to the Department of Education, but I’ll also have your entire school shut down for investigation.” Seeing Albert getting dragged into this unfairly, Alice quickly explained, “Dylan committed suicide. It has nothing to do with any of our school’s teachers. You can’t be this unreasonable.” Seeing things escalating, Albert rushed out to call security. Alice’s words completely enraged Harvey and Grace. Harvey bellowed, “How could it have nothing to do with you? If you hadn’t said hurtful things to Dylan, would he have killed himself? What do you mean Dylan won’t come back to life? To you, he’s just one of many students. But to us, he was our entire world.” Grace also cried out, “Don’t think you can easily escape responsibility. Especially you!” She roared at me again, “You owe Dylan a life, so you have to pay with yours.” With that, Grace pulled out a fruit knife from her bag and stabbed it toward my stomach without hesitation. Just as I tried to dodge, Harvey pinned me down. The fruit knife instantly pierced through my body. The excruciating pain made it impossible for me to stand up. I clutched my stomach, sitting on the ground, and explained through the agony, “I really didn’t criticize him. I just told him not to cheat again next time.” Grace raised the knife like a madwoman, wanting to stab me again, “Who would believe a murderer like you?” At that moment, the school security finally arrived. One held down Harvey while two others wrestled the knife away from Grace. Even while being pinned down by security, Grace continued cursing at me. I’ll never forget the look of pure hatred in her eyes.

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When Mark married me, he didn’t spend a dime, and all our neighbors praised me for being such a good wife. Little did I know, in the first year of our marriage, he was already keeping a college student mistress. The day I gave birth, he was still fooling around with the company’s receptionist. When our daughter turned six, he told me, “Clara, we’re not a good match. Let’s get a divorce.” I barely managed to suppress the smirk threatening to break free, and without a second’s hesitation, I agreed, “Okay.” Six years of silent endurance were finally about to pay off. Our family has a generations-old curse. The more one partner sacrifices, the more the other is cursed to repay, manifold, once the marriage ends. That’s why, when I found out about Mark’s affairs, I never made a fuss. “Clara, Mom says you dumped her chicken broth. She slaved over it for three hours! You have no respect for your elders!” Mark burst out, just a month after he hadn’t been home, immediately launching into accusations. I had just given birth and was still breastfeeding. I frowned, “That broth was from your last visit, Mark. It was just scraps, left in the fridge for thirty days. It was molded and stank.” “Oh, my son, you truly married a *gem* of a wife!” Denise, my mother-in-law, wailed dramatically from the side. “I barely touched it myself! What business was it of hers to just throw it out? She has no manners!” Mark’s face immediately hardened. “My mom is thrifty! If she wants to save it, let her save it! The fridge is big enough. What’s wrong with letting her keep it?” I was furious. “The fridge is packed with fresh breast milk! If that broth went bad and contaminated the milk, and our daughter got sick, would you be the one taking her to the hospital?” “If the milk goes bad, just pump more, what’s the big deal?” Mark said dismissively, not even bothering to consider how much pain I’d gone through to clear my ducts, or how much time I’d spent carefully storing all that fresh breast milk. Denise chimed in with Mark, her voice sharp with accusation. “If our granddaughter gets sick, it’s *your* fault! What’s the point of earning barely enough to cover your coffee budget? You’re completely dependent on my son! And you graduated with a Master’s from a top-tier university? Your weekly wage is less than my niece who only finished middle school!” My vision swam with anger. Of course, your niece, working twelve hours a day on the production line, can earn that much. My weekly wage is peanuts because the month after we got our marriage license, your son *punctured* the condoms, leading to an unplanned pregnancy. I had just started a new job, still in my probation period, when I found out I was pregnant. My boss wasn’t happy, of course. They sidelined me and cut my entire year-end bonus. He had promised me before we got married that we’d wait a few years to have kids.

When I first found out I was pregnant with our daughter, I thought he’d come with me to get an abortion. But the next day, Robert and Denise showed up, both urging me to keep the baby, while Mark just stood by, silent. My heart ached with frustration, but then he held my hand and said, “Clara, please, for me, for this family, let’s keep the baby, okay?” My heart softened, and I agreed. I suggested hiring a postpartum nurse, and Robert and Denise promised me the world. But when my due date neared, Mark started to waver. “A stranger won’t care for the baby as well as family.” “Why pay someone else when my mom can earn that money?” “My mom raised me alone, and I turned out fine – two arms, two legs, perfectly healthy!” “Clara, your salary is low now, and I’m the sole breadwinner. A postpartum nurse is expensive, and I’m under a lot of pressure. Besides, my parents have already moved in, there’s no room for anyone else…” I was young and naive then, truly believing I would receive meticulous care. Little did I know, when Denise found out I’d given birth to a girl, she completely abandoned me. I lay weakly on the delivery bed, while Mark worked endless overtime. I couldn’t even get up to use the restroom in the middle of the night without help; I had to beg the nurses.

I kept telling myself Mark was working hard, and no matter how unhappy I was, I just gritted my teeth and endured. Until one day, I went to grab groceries and saw him leaning against his car, intimately chatting with a pretty college student. The student even gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. After she left, he lit a cigarette and smugly chatted with the apartment building’s security guard. “What do you think? Eighteen years old. Way younger than my wife.” “My wife’s an Ivy League grad, and what good did that do her? She still pops out kids for me, mops floors, and washes dishes.” “I’m not going home. If I go home, I’ll have to help with the kid, right? It’s so annoying…” “You wouldn’t believe it. After giving birth, her body just swelled up, ugh. Doesn’t wear makeup, doesn’t wash her hair. She’s a total mess. Just looking at her makes me sick.” Every word was a gut punch. Each sentence hit me like a ton of bricks, pressing heavily on my shoulders. He seemed to have forgotten. The down payment for our apartment, the one we lived in, was paid using money he *borrowed* from my wedding funds. He still hadn’t paid me back. I couldn’t take it. I stormed over to confront him, but he just saw it as losing face. Right in front of the security guard, he slapped me hard, twice, then kicked me. “You damn bitch, is that how you talk to your husband? You need to remember who supports this family! Who gives you the money you spend!”

That’s right. As soon as my maternity leave ended, the company fired me. Now, I was just a full-time stay-at-home mom, completely dependent on my husband. I touched my face, swollen like a balloon, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. Only one thought consumed my mind. Revenge. I wanted him to experience the suffering I had endured, the pain I had felt. I wanted him to lie helpless on a delivery bed. I wanted him to feel the sting of betrayal. I wanted him to lose everything, to drown in endless despair. The next day, I called my mom. She seemed to have expected it. Her voice was calm. “You two only had a wedding reception, you never even got your marriage license. The curse’s power will be halved. If you leave him now, he’ll only get gastritis for a year and have his reputation dragged through the mud. That’s nothing compared to what you’ve suffered.” I calmed down. She was right. I couldn’t leave him yet. Not only would I not leave, but I had to get our marriage license. The more he owed me, the more he messed up, the more he’d have to repay. My ten months of pregnancy for a year of stomach issues? No way. I wanted to tear him apart inside, to make him writhe in agony.

For six years, he thought I couldn’t live without him, and he grew increasingly brazen. He would hit and verbally abuse me at the slightest provocation. Finally, when our daughter turned six, and Mark proposed divorce, the time was ripe. I did the math. With all the debts and wrongdoings he’d accumulated during our marriage, he definitely wouldn’t escape death. I deliberately suggested dividing our marital assets. As expected, he exploded, raging that I was malicious, his face purple with rage. “Have you earned a single dime for this family all these years? Let me tell you, the house is already in my mom’s name, and I don’t have a penny to my name! And I want full custody of our daughter!” Denise also pointed her finger at me, yelling, “You pathetic hanger-on! If you hadn’t clung to my son, he wouldn’t have been soft-hearted enough to marry you! It’s *your* fault we’re divorcing, you didn’t take good care of him! And now you’re dreaming of our family’s assets? No chance!” Seeing them so eager to dig their own graves, I felt at ease. “Fine, I don’t want anything. I’ll walk away with nothing.” Denise was ecstatic, rushing Mark to book an appointment at the divorce office as if afraid I’d change my mind. The divorce process was unusually smooth. As soon as the cooling-off period was over, the official papers were in hand. Stepping out of the divorce office, he was now my ex-husband. My ex-husband warned me not to spread news of our divorce. He probably had an image of a happy, stable family to maintain for his clients and superiors; if they found out, it could harm his career. Maybe he always thought I was easy to manipulate. Submissive, only capable of crying when hit or verbally abused. Even after divorce, he surely expected me to obey him. “Who knows?” I curved my lips into a small smile, shedding my usual docile image. “It depends on my mood.” He was shocked by my attitude, then his face contorted in furious embarrassment. “You damn bitch, talking to your husband like that! No wonder I divorced you!” He was always like this, acting like a king, expecting everyone to flatter and please him. Little did he know, my years of docility were simply a means to ensure a tenfold repayment. My ex-husband raised his fist, intending to strike my head as he used to, to vent his fury. But this time, he didn’t get his way. I raised my slender arm and grabbed his wrist. “We’re right outside the divorce office, Mark. There are cameras everywhere. Touch me, and I’ll make sure you go to jail.” His jaw twitched violently. Suddenly, a look of agony crossed his face. He gagged, then threw up. Forgetting to lecture me, he spun around and rushed towards the restroom. Not long after, an ambulance pulled up to the divorce office. My ex-husband, pale as a sheet, was carried away on a stretcher. He was always so strong, juggling two mistresses and a wife, working round the clock, yet always full of energy. Now, he was foaming at the mouth, collapsing in the bathroom. The curse had triggered so fast. Under the brilliant sunshine, I finally burst out laughing.

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What would you do if you saw your husband kissing his mistress on the street? Julian’s face tightened when he saw me. A cynical smile played on my lips as I raised my coffee cup in a mock toast to him. **One** Watching him, his face grim, his eyes flicking nervously between me and the young woman still clinging to his neck, I suddenly felt a twisted amusement. I knew he was terrified I’d snap again, storm over, and dump this coffee right onto that girl’s face, tearing into her until she was unrecognizable. If this were the old me, I definitely would have. But now? It all just feels so pointless. Outside the coffee shop, the girl tugged at Julian’s jacket, looking up at him like a spoiled child. Julian’s gaze darted my way for a second, then he lowered his head, a soft smile replacing his tension. He murmured sweet nothings to her, gripped her hand, and hurried away. I stared at the coffee on the table for a long moment before finally picking it up and draining it in one gulp. After so many years of marriage, we still had some warped understanding, apparently. Julian, who hadn’t been home in six months, finally unlocked our front door today. I was already sitting on the couch, waiting for him. I watched him hang his coat, then start to walk towards me, intending to sit beside me. I couldn’t help but inch away. Julian stiffened slightly, then casually settled onto the adjacent sofa. I took a deep breath, my voice rough: “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” The moment the words left my lips, a flicker of impatience crossed Julian’s face. His voice was cold, laced with annoyance: “Audrey, I have enough on my plate with company matters. I’m already stressed. Can you just not start this again?” His reaction was exactly what I expected. After all, he’d calmly brought up divorce himself plenty of times when he was cheating. The only problem was, I’d always interrupted him with a hysterical outburst. Now that *I* was the one proposing it, he probably just saw it as my latest ploy to keep him. I raised my hand, pulled the diamond ring off my ring finger, and tossed it onto the coffee table. The massive diamond flashed a cold brilliance under the light. “I’m serious. I’m not joking around.” Julian finally took me a little more seriously. He raised an eyebrow, crossing his long legs, and looked at me with an air of casual amusement. “Reason?” “I just find this life too boring. I want a new way to live.” I looked up at him, a cool, clear smile on my lips. I spoke each word distinctly: “After all, I’ve seen enough of your face.” My words made Julian’s face fall. He stared at me intently, as if scrutinizing the truth behind my words. My expression remained calm, my demeanor serious. Finally convinced I wasn’t just throwing another tantrum, he rubbed his temples in frustration, then patiently told me: “I don’t care how you spend your time when I’m not home. Divorce or not, it’s all the same. We’ve lived this way for so many years, why now? Why do you suddenly need to divorce?” He looked at me, a hint of deeper meaning in his eyes, and reminded me: “Divorce is a big deal. You should think it through carefully, don’t just act on a whim.” It was clear he still wasn’t taking me seriously. I knew he was warning me, reminding me that once we divorced, there’d be no turning back, urging me to think clearly. Too bad for his well-intentioned advice. This time, I genuinely had no desire to keep this charade going. It was just too exhausting. Under my steady gaze, Julian abruptly stood up, walked to the door, grabbed his coat from the rack, and shrugged it on. The swing of his coat seemed to carry a hint of anger. “I’m not agreeing to a divorce.” Then he walked out of the villa, slamming the front door shut behind him. **Two** Julian refusing a divorce completely blindsided me. I thought, given how much we clearly despised each other, he’d jump at the chance the moment I gave him an opening. After all, he should have been the one who wanted out the most. Later, I tried calling him, but every time, it was his assistant, Sam, who answered. The last time, Sam sounded a bit awkward as he told me: “Ms. Audrey, the boss says he’s really busy. Uh, he doesn’t have time to deal with your… antics.” After that, I completely lost interest in calling him. After thinking it over, I could only conclude that his refusal stemmed from our families’ intertwined business dealings, and how a divorce would impact our companies’ development. Strategic alliances between influential families are always complicated, and our intertwined businesses just made it worse, especially with the messy property division that would drag on for ages. Julian was incredibly ambitious, so his refusal to divorce was, I supposed, understandable. Even though the divorce didn’t happen, it felt like a long-locked door in my heart had finally swung open. At a social gathering, I casually accepted an invitation to a “Party” from my girls in the circle, which immediately drew surprised glances from everyone. In our crowd, arranged marriages were common. Some couples had open marriages, just keeping up appearances, while others genuinely loved each other. But someone like me, who’d caused such a public scene over her husband’s infidelity, completely losing all composure? That was rare. Julian and I got engaged young. We were childhood sweethearts, and there was a time when our love was so intense, we thought we’d die for each other. After finishing our studies, we married as planned, a model couple in our social circle. I never indulged in the wild parties and lavish living that many rich kids did. But everything changed after Julian started cheating. In the beginning, I’d stormed his company, trashed his car, and even hunted down his girlfriends. It all ended with both our families losing face, and my father personally stepped in to stop me from continuing. At first, some people tried to talk me into joining their own fun, but I always refused. Over time, everyone just gave up, though they still invited me out of habit. No one expected me to actually say yes today. My friends flocked around me, ushering me into a private lounge. One of my girls nudged a guy to sit next to me, winking suggestively. “Audrey, this is a new one. Want to try him out? One night with him, and you won’t even remember that Julian guy’s name.” I raised an eyebrow, taking it all in. Everyone in the room visibly relaxed. The guy next to me, sensing my closeness, tightened his lips, his hands clenched nervously on his knees. I let out a soft laugh, resting my hand on his clenched fist, and whispered, “Nervous?” He nodded rapidly, then quickly shook his head. “N-no, not nervous.” After years of Julian’s composed, almost cold face, even when I was screaming at him, seeing this fresh-faced college student with such an innocent reaction was surprisingly entertaining. He probably was faking it, but who cared? After tonight, we’d be nothing to each other. What did it matter if it was real or not? Julian kicked open the lounge door. By then, my vision was blurry from drinks, and I was leaning against the college student’s shoulder, my lips brushing his ear as I asked, “What’s your name?” The guy’s ears were a fiery red, but he’d grown bold enough to squeeze my hand. He answered shyly, “My name is Leo.” The room suddenly fell silent. I turned my head, and there they were: a pair of expensive suit pants, perfectly tailored, standing right in front of me. I looked up further to find Julian glaring at me, his eyes dark with fury. Then, amidst a few gasps, he yanked me off the sofa and dragged me out of the lounge. He was seething, practically radiating anger. He pulled me into the elevator, then down to the underground parking garage. He unlocked the car door and practically shoved me into the passenger seat. My wrist, where he’d gripped it, was throbbing, and I winced slightly. The driver’s side door opened. Julian’s long legs swung in, and he slid behind the wheel. He pulled a few tissues from a box, his face grim as he pinched my chin and started wiping my lips. The vivid lipstick stained the tissue, and his eyes darkened, his grip tightening. It hurt so much I struggled a few times but couldn’t break free. Finally, I just slapped him across the face! *Smack!* The sharp sound echoed in the car. Julian’s head snapped to the side from the impact. I casually pulled my hand back. “Hurting a lady isn’t exactly polite, Julian. Is that what your family taught you?” Suddenly, those words sounded familiar. I remembered him standing in front of me, watching me coldly, asking me ‘Where’s your upbringing?’ when I’d been confronting his mistresses. I wasn’t afraid of having slapped him, nor did I feel guilty. Julian didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue today. He just started the car, his face a thundercloud. The car slowly pulled out of the garage. I rested my head against the window, watching the raindrops splatter on the glass, leaving trails. I was in a surprisingly good mood. “Today, you know, I got a taste of the life you usually lead. It’s pretty interesting, actually. Young guys really do have a lot of energy. Just watching them lifts your mood…” “Stop talking.” Julian’s voice held a warning. I ignored him and continued, “I’m starting to understand you now. You’re right, it’s incredibly boring looking at the same face year after year. It’s only natural for people to seek something new…” “Audrey, I said stop talking!” Julian’s voice rose. “That young guy today was so cute, all flushed. If you’d come a little later, I might have even tried to kiss him…” Julian slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the pavement. My body lunged forward with the inertia, the seatbelt almost choking me. I turned to see Julian glaring at me, his eyes bloodshot and terrifying, his chest heaving. I couldn’t understand what he was so angry about. He was the one who said he didn’t care, the one who told me I could do whatever I wanted. Now, he was acting like he’d caught *me* cheating, his fury swelling in a way that just made me want to laugh. In fact, his angry face looked so grotesque, almost ugly, that I just turned my gaze away. Silence fell in the car, broken only by Julian’s heavy breathing. After a moment, he opened a pack of cigarettes and pulled out a lighter. I frowned. “Go outside if you’re going to smoke. I hate the smell.” His hand paused. He unbuckled his seatbelt, pulled open the car door, and stepped out. It was pouring rain outside. Julian didn’t come back right away, instead standing in the downpour for a good while. When he finally got back in, he was soaked to the bone, a damp, bent cigarette still clutched between his fingers, unlit. He brought a chill and wetness with him, and I shifted further away. Julian froze, then tossed the ruined cigarette onto the center console without a word, and restarted the car. **Three** After that unpleasant night, Julian seemed to change his ways. He started coming home every day. The house was joint marital property, so I had no reason to refuse him. I simply let him move back in. I had a habit of reading after dinner. One evening, I opened the study door and saw him sitting behind the desk, his eyes on the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. Sensing his subtle gaze, I paused, then casually closed the study door and went to the home gym. A little while later, Julian walked in again. He stood in front of my treadmill, silently watching me for a long time before finally speaking. “The printer’s out of paper. I looked in the storage, but couldn’t find any. Where is it?” I pressed stop on the treadmill, picked up the towel from my neck, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “If it’s not there, it’s not there. I don’t use those things, so Mrs. Davis didn’t buy any. If you need some, tell Mrs. Davis to get them now.” He shook his head. “Never mind.” Then he looked at me with a complex expression, opening his mouth as if to speak but stopping himself. I pretended not to notice. I had no interest in interacting with him at all. I got off the treadmill and walked past him directly into the shower. The next morning, when I woke up and went for breakfast, Julian was already sitting at the table. Mrs. Davis brought out two bowls of noodle soup. The moment he saw it, he frowned. I loved hearty, saucy breakfast dishes like this. Julian had spent a long time abroad years ago and never ate this kind of food. Since he’d been cheating, he hadn’t been home, so Mrs. Davis, being new, had no idea what his eating habits were. Noticing Mrs. Davis’s nervous glance, I finally cleared my throat. “Mrs. Davis, he doesn’t like these. Please take them away.” Mrs. Davis quickly moved to take Julian’s bowl, but he suddenly reached out and stopped her. “No, this is fine.” He said, picking up a handful of noodles with his fork and putting them in his mouth. Just then, his phone on the table rang. My curious gaze fell on it, just in time to see him fumble to hang up the call. After finishing my last bite of noodles, I pulled out a tissue and wiped my mouth. Seeing Julian still struggling to eat his bowl, I said casually, “Julian, what’s the point? Forcing yourself to adapt to a life you’re not used to… there’s no need, right?” I didn’t need to say it; he must have already realized how out of place he was in this home. Why bother doing something so meaningless? Julian paused, then without another word, he rolled a large portion of noodles onto his fork, shoved them into his mouth, chewed briefly, swallowed, and only then said, “I don’t feel uncomfortable.” I snorted and returned to my room. Less than two minutes later, Julian burst into my room, his face flushed with irritation. He was clutching my phone, demanding, “Audrey, are you still in contact with those questionable people outside?” The screen showed an unknown number, already disconnected. I didn’t even look at him. “Julian, what the hell is wrong with you, first thing in the morning?” A vein throbbed in Julian’s temple. He suppressed his anger and said, “What’s wrong with *me*? You tell me, why is a man calling you this early?” I let out an exasperated “Tsk.” “Are you *sure* you want to discuss this? You know perfectly well who called *you* just now, don’t you?”

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I said I wouldn’t date early, and Julian Hayes waited for me until graduation. I said I didn’t like physics, and he gave up a brilliant academic future. Later, on a stormy night, Julian chased my car like a madman. “Chloe, my brother is getting engaged to you?” I lowered my head, forcing myself not to look at him. “…Yes, after all these years, I can finally be openly with him. Thank you.” Julian Hayes has Dissociative Identity Disorder – he doesn’t actually have a brother. I was probably the first to know about it. In my senior year of high school, I transferred to Maywood High. He was the class president and disciplinary committee member, tall and pale-skinned, standing in the classroom like a young, growing sapling. Every day, he’d be picked up and dropped off by luxury cars, surrounded by friends decked out in designer brands, and cheesy love letters slipped through the back door. At the time, I thought, *So what if he’s damn handsome? No substance, just a flashy rich kid.* A while later, during the summer sports festival, he wore long sleeves and pants, completely covered up, his zipper pulled all the way to the top, not even showing his neck. I complained to my new best friend, Hailey, “Rich kids are something else. They don’t even sweat. Does he think he’s some kind of fairy?” Hailey didn’t laugh. She leaned in and whispered, “His parents did that to him.” My eyes widened. “Why?” “I guess there’s something seriously wrong with his family.” Hailey made a zipping-her-mouth gesture at me. “Everyone keeps quiet about it. Don’t go around talking.” I nodded. Then, I inwardly marveled. Julian looked so unbothered day after day, despite everything. And he got first place on every test. He was truly something else. On the last day of the sports festival, it was my turn for after-class clean-up. After evening study hall, I finished wiping the blackboard and the podium. It was already pitch black outside. The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell weren’t working, no matter how much noise I made. I fumbled my way down the stairs, trembling and gripping the wall. Around the corner, I saw a silhouette and a flickering light. “Class President?” Julian exhaled a thick puff of smoke, staring at me without speaking. I inexplicably felt an ominous aura from him; he was like a completely different person from his usual self. “Julian, don’t you usually go home before evening study hall?” He let out a cold laugh, then suddenly grabbed my arm, pinning me against the wall. “I’m Jax, not that damn loser brother.” “Watch this.” He put the cigarette butt down and brutally ground it into the back of his hand. The moment the fire disappeared, we were completely swallowed by darkness. Julian’s voice was low. “He wouldn’t dare. He’s afraid of pain.” “…You’re bleeding.” I swallowed hard, scared, and fumbled through my bag, finally finding a band-aid. “Here.” Julian stared at the band-aid for a moment, then his hand suddenly trembled, and half the cigarette fell to the ground. He blankly took the band-aid but didn’t move. I tentatively called out, “Julian?” “…I’m sorry.” He abruptly stepped back, completely having forgotten what had just happened. I waved my hand. “It’s fine. I’m going home now.” Julian suddenly stopped me. “Chloe.” I turned, looking up at him. “What is it?” “I… have night blindness,” Julian whispered, leaning on the wall. “Can you lead me down?”

After that, I became the person in the world who understood Julian Hayes the most, overnight. He had DID, night blindness, and possibly a subconscious self-destructive tendency. But during the day, he was quiet, distant and pure like the moon. “You don’t attend evening study hall because of night blindness?” I passed him a small note. He passed one back to me. “Yes.” I started a new line. “Then I’ll walk with you from now on, or do you want to go home every day?” —*If he’s getting beaten at home, no one would want to go back.* Julian’s reply didn’t reach my hand until half a class later. I didn’t know what he was hesitating about, but the content was simple: “Okay.” Our teacher, Mr. Davies, was teaching about the “Roche Limit.” The Roche Limit for the Earth-Moon system is 9,000 kilometers. When the Moon gets too close to Earth, exceeding this limit, Earth’s strong tidal forces would rip the Moon apart, turning it into a ring orbiting the Earth. I couldn’t truly understand it at the time. Until one day, much later, I was leading Julian downstairs, and his father saw us. Mr. Hayes kicked Julian in the stomach. Julian tumbled down the stairs, clutching his head, his body curled tightly. Like a stray animal, devoid of personality, just a life being wantonly abused. “Bastard! I told you no early dating! I told you no early dating!” “You’re so full of yourself!” There was nothing I could do. I just felt that if he kept hitting Julian, Julian would die. So I grabbed a large rock from the flower bed. And threw it. His father wailed, too much in pain to straighten up. I pulled Julian up and we ran. Much later, we collapsed in a dark alley by the roadside. His arm was bleeding. I was helpless, only able to ask, “…Does it hurt?” Julian covered his face, silent for a very long time. Finally, his voice trembled slightly. “Chloe, it hurts so much.” My heart clenched. I leaned in and gently hugged him. No one ever listened when he said he was in pain. Everyone just knowingly watched the so-called rich family’s drama unfold. But friends were fake, home was fake, everything was fake, only the pain was real. Julian was the moon not allowed to approach other planets. The distance he allowed me to close had long exceeded that limit. He knew, deep down, that one day it would be discovered, and he’d face fury and physical abuse. But he would shatter into a million pieces for one eternal embrace.

The next time I saw Jax Hayes, it was when I went to the police station with Julian. Inside the station, he suddenly started twirling the black pen on the table, swaying slightly, and then pulled my hand to draw small flowers. “Julian? You haven’t answered my question yet.” I had already noticed he wasn’t himself. I quickly told the officer, “He needs a moment to recall. We’ll be right back.” I dragged Jax out of the police station. He smirked and whistled. “Well, hello there, pretty lady. Long time no see.” I closed my eyes, then opened them, steeling my resolve. I slapped him hard. No change. Julian didn’t come back. Jax blinked, then laughed even harder. “Such a fiery temper.” “Be my girlfriend.” He gripped my wrist, pulling me hard into his embrace. I could only manage a shaky voice, shouting at him, “I won’t date early!” Jax looked stunned. The concept of “early dating” seemed alien to him. He started clutching his stomach, as if about to burst out laughing. “You’re so cute.” “Early what? Dating me, it’s nothing but regret you didn’t meet me sooner.” He raised an eyebrow. My lips moved, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to retort. Jax roughly ruffled my hair. “Alright, alright, I’ll wait for you until graduation.” “…Who wants you to wait?!” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Wait for what?” The person in front of me was no longer a rogue. Only confusion remained in his eyes. All my energy drained away. I said weakly, “Wait for a natural, clear day, I want to take you to the beach.” Julian’s brow furrowed slightly. I turned my head. “You haven’t heard that song?” He blinked, looking gentle, humble, and polite. “No.” “Silly.” The police officer said things would get better. We both believed it, and it turned out to be true. Half a month later, Julian’s parents lost custody, and his guardian became his grandmother, who lived abroad. I asked Julian why he hadn’t saved himself all this time. Julian didn’t have an answer either. He said he was just too tired.

Two months later, during the mock exams, Julian was dead last in his grade. He crumpled the test paper into a ball and shoved it into Mr. Davies’s mouth. I stopped doing my test. I reached out and grabbed him, almost begging in a whisper, “Jax, settle down. Apologize.” *Don’t let everyone know, give Julian some space.* But it was no use. When Julian himself returned, the situation had escalated beyond calming. Even though the homeroom teacher was usually good-tempered, he couldn’t tolerate Jax’s extreme contempt. He made Julian stand in the hallway outside the classroom for the entire day. This was an incredibly humiliating punishment. Everyone who walked by would stare. And the once-glorious top student in the grade became the biggest topic of conversation that day. “I think he’s… lost his mind too.” “Right? How could he suddenly change so much, like a rabid dog, lashing out at everyone?” I covered Julian’s ears. He looked at me obediently, but his eyes held the bewildered confusion of someone who had caused immense trouble. “You’re not sick, Julian. That was your brother. Not you.” “Your brother’s name is Jax. He just causes trouble sometimes. It’s really no big deal, right? You’re always the master of this body.” Julian mechanically repeated my words. “That was my brother.” “I have DID. He’s my other personality.” I was extremely reluctant to admit it, but I had to nod. Julian was unusually calm. He gave a faint smile and asked me, “So, you’d seen him before?” My silence was the best answer. He lowered his head, pushing me away with cold words. “Chloe, I don’t need your pity.” I had a strange illusion that this summer had ended in that instant. “Yeah, I was deluding myself.” “It won’t happen again.”

I didn’t speak to him again until the college entrance exams. Julian scored incredibly well. I didn’t pry into his exact score, but I heard our physics teacher was writing him a recommendation letter to study quantum mechanics at a top-tier Ivy League university abroad. I performed normally, enough to get into a good university a few states over. That night, the air was a bit cool. I had my bedroom window open, and Julian climbed in from outside. “Hey there, pretty lady. Good thing your place is on the third floor, not the thirteenth.” He panted, winking at me. I was dumbfounded. “You, how did you…?” “How did you know where I live?” Jax sat on the edge of my bed, propping his feet up. “I followed you, duh.” “We’ve graduated. We can date now.” He reminded me. I pressed my lips together, cold. “I don’t remember.” “Don’t remember?” Jax stood up and pinned me against the desk. “That won’t do.” Saying that, he leaned in to kiss me. I covered my mouth with defiant resolve, blurting out without thinking, “I don’t like people who study physics!” Jax stopped half an inch from me. “My loser brother likes physics?” I didn’t know; I just said it on a whim. But Jax clearly took it seriously. He mulled it over for a moment. “Well, that won’t do. How could I let him have his way?” I knew instantly he was going to cause trouble. I knew he was crazy, but I didn’t expect him to actually do it. Jax changed Julian’s university application. He filled in only one choice, and the major was non-negotiable: the same university and the same major as me. After he finished, he sent me a SnapChat boasting, “Mission accomplished!”

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I’d been by Julian’s side for thirteen years. He had a never-ending parade of women by his side, while I lived in a desolate, lonely bubble for years. Everyone said I, a new-money nobody, was out of my mind to even *think* about an old-money dynasty like his. I never uttered a single word in response to their gossip. Until, suddenly, a woman who looked exactly like me appeared by his side – she was about to become his fiancée. A strange calm washed over me. And finally, I blurted out the words I’d held back from Julian for so long: “I want to get married.” He was silent for a moment. “What are you talking about, Harper?” he said. Swallowing the bitter ache in my chest, I looked straight into his eyes. My voice was icy, devoid of any affection. “Not to you.” A cup of lukewarm water hit my face, but it chilled me to the bone. The elegant, high-class woman across from me looked down, watching me. The teacup clattered against the table. “Julian is about to get engaged to Isabella Zhao, the only daughter of the Zhao family. I don’t want anything to jeopardize their wedding.” “I can overlook all the one-sided things you’ve done in the past, but I expect you, from now on…” “Know what’s good for you, and stay far away from him.” … Her words still sliced through me, sharp and clear, echoing in my mind. I jolted awake from my dream, my phone vibrating wildly on the nightstand. I squinted, grabbed my phone without checking the caller ID, and hit the answer button. The other end was incredibly noisy, a mix of music and voices, but the caller said nothing. “Hello?” Still silence. I was so tired, I was about to hang up. Then Julian’s deep voice cut through the clamor, hitting my eardrums directly. “You’re back from your vacation?” His voice was a little hoarse, like he’d just woken up. Three months ago, I’d finally decided to quit my job, but Julian strongly objected. Still, my mind was made up. He ended up taking a roundabout approach, giving me three months off instead. But I was using a roundabout approach too. I’d planned to simply never come back after those three months were up. “…Come find me.” Over the phone, he said that so casually, yet I could sense the simmering emotion underneath. It made my ear tingle. He probably had no idea why I suddenly wanted to quit or why I was drawing a line between us.

I still went. People are strange. No matter how rational I try to be, sometimes I just can’t control myself. Navigating the dimly lit bar, with music vibrating through the floor, I skillfully wove through the crowd and found Julian. I never understood why he always chose the same booth, or why he liked this kind of noisy environment. I saw him sitting in the center of the booth, half-asleep in an uncomfortable position. His lowered lashes cast shadows on his handsome, striking face, making him look quiet and surprisingly vulnerable. Around him, people clinked glasses, laughing and chatting. It was such a lively scene. Yet he seemed so utterly alone. “Julian.” At the sound of my voice, he lifted his eyelids. His gaze cut through the blurred faces and the dim, shifting lights, landing on me. He spoke, his voice still hoarse, “You’re here.” I sighed softly, pushing down the ache in my chest, and handed him the hotel key card. His place was too far, so almost every time he got drunk, he’d end up staying at the same hotel. And he was so stubborn about these things. Like always going to the same nightclub, always sitting in the same spot, and of course, always staying in his usual hotel room. As his executive assistant, these daily chores were part of my job. After three months off, he still assumed I was the same as before. Julian squinted his tired eyes, signaling the woman beside him to take the key card from my hand. As she reached out, the swaying light revealed a face that looked somewhat like mine. My heart clenched. My mind raced, wondering which new “confidante” this was by his side. Out of professional instinct, I offered her a friendly smile, but I didn’t miss the flicker of malice in her eyes. I felt a pang of helplessness, and for a moment, I was lost in thought. He was about to get engaged, yet he was still hanging out with these other women? Mrs. Eleanor had even tracked *me* down, but she hadn’t reined in this ‘confidante’? Handing her the key card, I felt a strange, undefinable mix of emotions.

I sat in the corner for a while. Julian had closed his eyes again, pretending to nap, occasionally leaning an ear to listen to someone talk. The woman beside him sat obediently. The sight was actually quite pleasant. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, grabbed my bag, and got ready to leave. After all, I’d already made up my mind to quit. My presence here today was just a momentary lapse of emotion. Before I could take a single step, a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder. There were always a few clueless people around Julian who’d bump into me. Today, it was another one. A drunk man suddenly leaned in, his eyes raking over me, a light, teasing smile on his face. “Ms. Harper, long time no see?” I narrowed my eyes slightly, unable to place him for a moment. He familiar wrapped an arm around my shoulder, then subtly tilted his chin, gesturing toward the woman next to Julian. “Do you know who she is? The Zhao family’s heiress. Beautiful, from a family perfectly matched with Mr. Julian’s, and so gentle and sweet.” The Zhao family’s heiress? My gaze snapped to the woman, and my heart felt like it was punctured by a needle, deflating, a wave of bitterness spreading through me. I was momentarily stunned. I didn’t notice the man leaning closer, his mouth moving. I could barely hear him: “Honestly, after all these years, you’ve been on call, always putting in the effort, and Mr. Julian has never even truly looked at you.” “Why don’t you… find a new target?” As he spoke, he suddenly touched my hand, his voice laced with insinuation. “Whatever Mr. Julian can give you, I can give you too.” That flirty tone and look almost made me sick. I finally snapped back to reality, just as I was about to pull away. A powerful force suddenly yanked me into Julian’s embrace. Julian’s expression hadn’t changed, but the ruthlessness in his eyes was barely contained. He kicked the man who’d put his hands on me. He simply waved his fingers in the air, not even frowning. Out of the shadows, several hidden bodyguards emerged, dragging the man away. The man seemed to sober up then, crying out in despair, “Mr. Julian! Mr. Julian, please forgive me! I was drunk, Mr. Julian! Please, have mercy!” His figure was dragged further and further away, his voice fading until it completely disappeared into the noisy background music. No one dared to look over, no one dared to stop what they were doing. The music, the lights, the swaying dancers – everything continued. In just a few minutes, it was as if nothing had happened.

My shoulder was aching a little. Julian’s fingers were practically digging into my flesh. He seemed genuinely angry. Years of habit made me instinctively pat the back of his hand in an attempt to soothe him. Seeing that he still hadn’t let go, I awkwardly wriggled free from his embrace. I gave him a distant smile. “Thanks, Julian.” His expression finally shifted, his brows furrowing slightly. “Harper, I only gave you three months off. Can’t you even talk properly anymore?” Julian seemed stung by the detachment in my tone and actions. I smiled faintly, then my gaze swept past him to the woman behind him, who was glaring at me with venomous eyes. Isabella Zhao, the Zhao family’s heiress. Recalling Mrs. Eleanor’s words, I sighed and gently pushed Julian. “Julian, the hotel is all set up. I have something else to do, so I’ll head out. You have fun.” Julian kept feeling like I had changed since coming back from my three-month vacation. No, actually, I had changed the moment I told him I was quitting. Especially that push. He suddenly felt like there was a thorn stuck in his throat, something he couldn’t swallow, making him uneasy no matter how he thought about it. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so strange today? Are you trying to annoy me the moment you get back from your vacation?” I don’t know why, but usually I was so tolerant, endlessly patient with him. This time, however, I felt an inexplicable impatience, and I couldn’t control my tone. “How am I annoying you?” Julian pursed his lips, staring at me with a dark, brooding expression. Seeing his face, I sighed slightly. Subconsciously, I still couldn’t bring myself to lose my temper with him. A smile returned to my face as I explained, “Julian, I just think it’s too noisy here.” Julian glanced at the people in the booth, then back at me. “Too noisy?” I nodded. Without another word, he pulled my wrist and led me outside.

It was still a bit chilly in March, especially after stepping out of such a stiflingly hot environment. The moment the cold air hit me, I couldn’t help but shiver. Julian skillfully opened my shoulder bag, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Smoke wafted around his face, creating a haze that obscured his expression. He had just woken up, and his voice was still a bit husky. He asked me, “Did you have fun?” He was asking if I had a good time during my three-month vacation. I really did. I thought back, a smile unconsciously forming on my lips, and nodded. “Yeah, I had a great time.” He looked at me, his smoking hand pausing. Julian saw my smile and let out a small, mirthless laugh. “Where did you go? Just thinking about it makes you this happy.” I spoke as if in contemplation. “I just went back to my hometown and met an old friend.” His eyes narrowed slightly, keenly catching the phrase “old friend,” and he asked, “A man?” I hadn’t thought much about it, my smile still lingering, and nodded gently. Maybe it was some kind of male sixth sense. Seeing my expression, Julian’s heart felt like it was twisted, a surge of bitterness rising. “Who is it?” His tone tightened, carrying a hint of danger. I didn’t notice his sudden shift in mood and waved a dismissive hand. “You wouldn’t know him.” “Even I wouldn’t know him?” Julian narrowed his eyes slightly. Honestly, I’d known him for so long that he probably assumed he knew all my friends. “A friend from before I moved to Haicheng—I mean, out here. You wouldn’t know him…” Suddenly, I spotted the white figure behind Julian. Isabella had followed him outside. I nodded and smiled at her. Putting everything else aside, simply because she was Julian’s future wife, I felt compelled to greet her respectfully. That familiar bitterness had been welling up like a spring since earlier tonight, and I bit my lip, forcing the emotion back down. Then I said to Julian, “…I won’t bother you and Ms. Isabella anymore.” Julian frowned, glanced at Isabella with an annoyed expression, then shifted his gaze back to me, about to speak. Just then, my phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, I felt a little helpless, but a softness entered my eyes. I didn’t see Julian’s expression as I turned and answered the call. “Leo.” Even through the phone, I could hear his voice, so gentle it felt like it could melt into a puddle. I quickly walked a couple of steps away, sighing helplessly. “What’s up? Are you still awake this late?” A soft laugh came from the other end. “What can I say? You left, and suddenly I can’t sleep.” His blatant honesty made my earlobes warm, but I couldn’t bring myself to sound stern. I just said, with no real authority, “Talk properly.” “How am I not talking properly?” His voice naturally carried a hint of tenderness that made my heart feel soft. He pressed his advantage. “Harper, darling~ Harper, darling~ I miss you so much I can’t sleep…” It’s true, when a man acts cute, most women find it hard to resist. I felt a little embarrassed, but some rationality remained. I couldn’t help but glance back at Julian and quickly said, “Stop, stop! I’m still busy with some work here. I’ll hang up first.” He sounded pitiful. “Oh… well, call me back when you’re done.” I didn’t want to deal with him. He then gave a completely unthreatening warning. “If you don’t call me, I’m coming over to your place later.” I had no choice but to nod helplessly. “Okay, okay, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

After hanging up, I slowly exhaled, feeling utterly flushed and uncomfortable as I turned around. I saw Julian, his eyes dark and deep like an ocean with hidden currents, so profound they seemed to threaten to pull me under. For no reason, I felt a flicker of danger. My movements paused as I shoved my phone into my bag. “…What’s wrong?” His voice was even hoarser, as if the words were squeezed from his throat. “Who was that?” “Huh?” “Who was that person on the phone?” Julian said, each word distinct. He looked like he was on the verge of exploding. I was slightly bewildered, unsure why he was suddenly so angry. “That guy, who is he?” He repeated, as if afraid I hadn’t heard him clearly. I opened my mouth. “Just a friend…” He finally lost control, stepping forward and snatching my phone. He expertly typed in the password, opened my contacts, and seeing the name, repeated it with a dark expression. “Leo.” “What does that have to do with you?” I was starting to get angry too. How dare he snatch my phone? What right did he have to question me? His fiancée was standing right there, so what standing did *he* have to meddle in my affairs? But more importantly, I was afraid he’d do something irrational. Leo couldn’t handle Julian. I ran my hand through my hair, and in a fit of pique, slapped the phone onto the ground. The screen cracked. I yelled his name. “Julian!” Almost pleading, “Can you stop acting like this?” He looked at me, disbelieving. “Me, acting up?” “Harper, *you’re* the one who started this drama the moment you brought up quitting!”

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