1 The family trip was meant to start today. Instead, I spent the morning doubled over, darting between the bedroom and bathroom. Mom stayed beside me the whole time, wiping my forehead and rubbing my back until the nausea finally passed. When we stepped out, the house was silent. Dad and Aunt Vivian were already gone. Mom stood frozen in the hallway, phone in hand, about to book a cab. Then a text from Dad appeared on her screen. You are a grown woman with a child. How can you not handle a simple stomach bug? Set a better example for Kate. The flight will not wait. Just stay home. A second message followed from Aunt Vivian. Mike and I have important clients to meet. It would not have been convenient having you two along anyway. Mom’s hand fell slowly to her side, her eyes dimming. Dad and Vivian had always been inseparable, both brilliant defense attorneys at a top firm. Mom never fit into their world, left behind to cook, clean, and manage the household. Whenever she voiced her hurt, Dad dismissed it with a laugh. She is your sister, Grace. Why be so jealous? Vivian is here so Kate can learn from her. Maybe our daughter will grow up smart like her aunt. My chest tightened. I tugged her sleeve, voice shaking. Mom, did I mess up again? Is that why they left us? No, sweetie, she said softly, kneeling to meet my eyes with a bright, forced smile. We left him behind. You have wanted to see the ocean, haven’t you? Let us go together, just the two of us. I wanted to jump for joy, but then I hesitated, twisting my fingers together. “But… won’t Dad be mad? And doesn’t Aunt Vivian hate the ocean?” Mom stiffened. Aunt Vivian had nearly drowned when she was a little girl, and she had a deep phobia of the ocean. Once, I came home from school and proudly showed off a watercolor painting I did of giant blue waves. That night, Vivian claimed she had terrible nightmares and couldn’t focus on her court case the next day. Dad had spent the entire night in her room, comforting her until she finally calmed down. The next morning, he looked at Mom with nothing but cold disappointment. “You picked Kate up from school and you didn’t even notice she painted waves? Vivian couldn’t sleep a wink. How is she supposed to present our case today?” “Grace, if you can’t even handle the basic preferences of the people in this house, what exactly do you do all day?” The argument ended, as it always did, with Mom quietly apologizing over and over. But Mom and I loved the ocean. Deep in her phone, Mom still saved old photos from before they were married. In those pictures, she and Dad were standing on a sandy beach, and she was laughing with a bright, radiant smile… a smile I had never seen on her face in real life. “What does his opinion matter?” Mom whispered, pulling herself out of the memory. She smoothed my hair. “We spent so much time preparing for this. Why should we stay home just because he says so? Kate, tell me, do you want to go?” I looked over at the heavy suitcases by the door. Mom had stayed up late researching travel guides. She had even crawled out of bed at four o’clock this morning to pack our bags and cook a hot breakfast. I had woken up early too, eager to help her. We got so little time with Dad. He was always busy, dedicating every spare second to Vivian and his career. Even this morning, he hadn’t said more than two words to Mom. He had spent the entire breakfast debating legal jargon with Vivian, words that flew right over my head. Looking at Mom’s hopeful, shining eyes, I nodded vigorously. “Yes! I want to go!” Mom smiled, her eyes crinkling. She immediately opened her phone and rebooked our tickets, changing our destination to a coastal town. But the moment we arrived at the airport terminal, Dad’s name flashed across Mom’s screen on a FaceTime call. Mom hesitated for a few seconds before tapping accept. Instantly, Dad’s familiar, accusatory voice boomed through the speaker. “Grace! It is bad enough that you missed the flight, but I just got a notification that you rebooked tickets to the coast? Are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten what happened last time…” My chest tightened, and I looked at Mom, terrified. But for the first time in her life, Mom didn’t apologize. She simply knitted her brows, her voice steady. “Mike. My daughter and I are going to a place we actually want to visit. Is there a problem with that?” “Lest you forget, Kate and I are your actual wife and daughter. Does our entire lives have to revolve around Vivian’s phobias?” Dad stared at the screen, momentarily speechless. But then, like a cat that had its tail stepped on, his voice spiked an octave higher. “Grace! You are the one who fed Kate something bad last night and made her sick, which is why you missed the flight in the first place! And now you are turning this around on me?” “Why are you always so careless? Why can’t you be organized and precise like Vivian?” “You two came from the same mother. How can you be so completely different?” The barrage of harsh words seemed to choke the air right out of Mom’s lungs. Her eyes welled with hot tears, and she bit her lower lip. I had seen her look this helpless too many times. Anger flared in my chest. Before I could stop myself, I snatched the tablet from Mom’s hands and glared into the camera at Dad. “Dad! You are a liar! You were the one who insisted on ordering spicy food last night because Aunt Vivian wanted to celebrate her case! You knew I couldn’t eat spicy food, but you didn’t care! How can you be so mean to Mom? I don’t like you anymore!” I slammed the screen, hanging up the call. I puffed out my chest like a little bodyguard, placing my hands on my hips. “Mom, Dad is a jerk! We don’t need him! I’ll protect you from now on!” Mom blinked in surprise, and then a genuine, beautiful laugh bubbled out of her chest. Over the intercom, the gate agent announced the final boarding call for our flight. “Alright,” Mom said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “I’ll count on you to protect me then. We don’t need him.” When we reached our hotel by the beach, Mom threw our bags onto the bed and took me straight to the water. We splashed in the waves, built sandcastles, and took dozens of silly photos until the sun dipped below the horizon. When we finally returned to the room, Mom checked her phone. There were dozens of missed calls from Dad, and a long, guilt-tripping text from Aunt Vivian. “Sis, stop throwing a tantrum. How could you drag Kate into an adult argument? Mike couldn’t even focus during his meeting with the clients because of you.” “Just apologize to him and go home. Mike supports you financially. The least you can do is stop causing him unnecessary stress.” A shadow of sorrow crossed Mom’s eyes. She tossed the phone onto the nightstand and urged me to take a warm bath. In truth, Aunt Vivian hadn’t always been like this. When she first moved in with us, she was a quiet, timid girl who hid behind Mom’s back. She had worked incredibly hard to get out of her small rural town and get into a top-tier law school, dreaming of becoming a high-powered attorney just like Dad. Our grandparents had passed away when Mom and Vivian were young. Mom had worked multiple jobs to pay for Vivian’s tuition, only stepping back to become a homemaker after she married Dad. To help Vivian achieve her dreams, Mom had invited her to live in our guest room so Dad could mentor her and help her study. But somewhere along the way, the way Vivian looked at Mom changed. Sometimes, when Mom wasn’t home, Vivian would look over my graded schoolwork and let out a cold, mocking sneer. “You really are Grace’s daughter. Utterly brainless. If your mother hadn’t trapped your father first, a brilliant man like him would never be stuck with such a stupid kid.” I had run to Dad crying, desperate to tell him what she said. But Vivian would just put on a sweet, innocent face and deny it, and Dad would turn around and blame Mom for filling my head with lies. A sharp knock on the hotel door snapped me out of my thoughts. Mom quickly dried my hair, bundled me into my pajamas, and went to open the door. Standing on the threshold, looking exhausted and disheveled, was Dad. He stared at Mom for a long moment, then looked over at me. He let out a heavy sigh, walked into the room, and took the hairdryer from Mom’s hand to finish drying my hair. Mom stood by the window, watching silently. She didn’t do what she usually did… flutter around him, asking if he was hungry, or clinging to his arm. A flicker of panic crossed Dad’s eyes. He tried to crack a few jokes to make me laugh, but I kept my face squeezed into a pout and refused to say a word. Once my hair was dry, he walked over to Mom, his shoulders slumping. “Grace, look at what you’ve done. You get angry at me, and now even our daughter won’t talk to me.” Mom remained silent. Dad’s jaw tightened, his usual urge to scold her rising to the surface, but he forced himself to swallow it down. He lowered his voice, trying to sound reasonable. “Grace, stop acting like a child, alright? We agreed we wouldn’t fight in front of Kate.” “And about Vivian… you were the one who practically begged me to mentor her and help her career. How can you blame me for being close to her now?” “I was in the middle of crucial client meetings, but the moment I heard my wife and daughter were upset, I hopped on the very next flight. Doesn’t that prove how important you both are to me? Let me stay tonight, and we can put this behind us.” Mom looked at me, then at Dad. For a second, the coldness in her expression seemed to thaw. But before she could speak, Dad’s phone vibrated loudly on the table. The screen lit up with the caller ID: “Vivi <3". Mom's face froze. I knew for a fact that whenever Mom called him, his phone simply displayed her full name: "Grace." Dad swallowed hard, feeling Mom's gaze, but he answered the call anyway. Aunt Vivian's frantic, needy voice echoed clearly through the quiet room. "Mike... you have to come back. Grace forgot to pack the core files for the case when she was organizing your briefcase. This client is incredibly important, and only you know the details..." Dad's face fell. He looked at Mom with a familiar flash of deep disappointment. Without a second thought, he grabbed his coat. "Vivian, don't worry. Hold on, I'm heading to the airport now..." "Mike," Mom called out, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You just got here, and you're already running back to her? She has been working on this case with you from day one. How could she not know the files? What exactly are Kate and I to you?" "Enough!" Dad snapped, his patience evaporating. "Isn't this your fault in the first place? If you had packed my things properly and done your job as a housewife, would I have to fly back to help her? If you could actually comprehend a single line of legal text, would I even need Vivian's help?" "I flew all this way to find you, and you haven't given me a single warm look. Now I have to go handle a crisis, and you are throwing another tantrum. Grace, why are you so incredibly difficult to please?" He paused, glancing down at me as I sat frozen on the bed. "And look at Kate. Her grades are mediocre, and now she is throwing attitude. Growing up under your shadow is clearly ruining her. If this keeps up, I'm going to let her aunt take over her education!" With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls trembled. Mom slowly slid down against the wall, burying her face in her knees. Her quiet, breathless sobs filled the empty room. Bad Dad. He promised he wouldn't fight in front of me, and he broke his promise immediately. I climbed off the bed, wrapped my small arms around Mom, and tried my best to comfort her. After a long time, Mom wiped her tears. She looked at me, her voice trembling. "Kate... if Mom told you that you wouldn't see Dad for a very long time... would you be sad?" "No!" I crossed my arms and huffed. "We barely see him anyway. And I don't want to go to school anymore if the teachers keep asking if Aunt Vivian is my mom! I only have one mom!" Whenever Dad picked me up early from school, Vivian was always riding shotgun in his car. My homeroom teacher had even teased me once. "Kate, your father and mother are such a stunning couple. I watched them in court once... their chemistry is absolutely enviable!" And Dad had never bothered to correct her. Hearing my answer, Mom let out a wet laugh. She tucked me into bed and spent the next hour making several quiet phone calls. When she finally climbed into bed beside me, I saw a peaceful, relaxed smile on her face for the very first time. Over the next few days, Dad didn't call, and Mom didn't bother reaching out to him. Instead, she took me everywhere. We painted the waves together, and I was amazed to see that Mom's painting looked incredibly realistic, like real water splashing on the paper. Only then did I realize that Mom had given up her own dreams of going to a prestigious art school just so she could work and pay for Vivian's education. When she held a paintbrush, she looked entirely different from the stressed woman who used to hide in the study, trying to memorize boring law books just to have something to talk about with Dad. When our trip ended, we returned home. Mom spent the afternoon organizing a thick stack of documents before sending me to stay at a friend's house for a few days. Suddenly, Dad called her. "Grace, bring Kate to the firm's annual gala tonight. I managed to secure an invitation for Professor Harrison." "I know Kate likes to paint. Professor Harrison is a legend in the art world. If he agrees to mentor her, her future is set." Mom's initial refusal died on her tongue. She agreed, picked me up, and drove us to the gala. The moment we walked into the grand ballroom, we saw Dad and Aunt Vivian standing side-by-side near the center stage, welcoming guests like the hosts of the evening. It looked exactly like the parents of my classmates when they hosted parties together. Seeing us arrive, Vivian put on a show of affection. She scooped me up in her arms in front of several prominent guests. "Oh, look at our little Kate! You've gotten so thin and dark. I've only been away from you for a few days, and look what your mother did to you." In an instant, the whispers started. The surrounding guests looked at Mom with judging, critical eyes. I hated when Vivian did this. She loved playing the perfect caregiver in public to make Mom look incompetent. In the past, I would have stayed quiet, terrified of causing trouble. But this time, I squirmed violently out of her embrace and raised my voice. "I like being thin! And I like being tan!" I grabbed Mom's hand and pulled her toward our table. Whispers and chuckles rippled through the crowd. Vivian's face flushed a deep, embarrassed red, and she shot a helpless, pleading look at Dad. Dad frowned, but with so many eyes on him, he couldn't burst out in anger. Throughout the dinner, Dad's colleagues kept praising him and Vivian. "Mike, that last case you and Vivian co-counseled was absolute genius! Our firm is incredibly lucky to have a power couple like you two!" Mom's hand paused, her fork hovering in the air. Dad instinctively glanced at Mom, but her face remained entirely blank as she calmly wiped a drop of sauce from my chin. Aunt Vivian's eyes flashed with a smug, quiet triumph. One colleague, who had clearly had too much to drink, leaned in closer, his voice loud and loose. "Doesn't Vivian live with you guys anyway? You work late at the office together, go home together... man, talk about convenient! I heard Vivian was the one who insisted on joining you on this business trip, right? I left late the other night and saw the lights still on in your office. I snuck a peek... and man, Mike, you really know how to live the good life!" Clang. The spoon in Mom's hand slipped and hit her plate with a sharp, ringing sound. The colleague seemed to snap out of his drunken haze, his face paling as he quickly began to apologize. But Mom didn't say a word. She pulled me out of my chair and walked straight toward the exit. Dad chased us all the way to the glass doors of the lobby, grabbing Mom's wrist. "Grace! He was drunk and talking nonsense! Professor Harrison hasn't even arrived yet. What do you think you're doing, dragging Kate away and making a scene?" "Are you really this foolish? Do you always have to embarrass me?" "Mike." Mom slapped his hand away. When she looked into his eyes, the final spark of warmth in her gaze was completely gone. "Don't touch my daughter. You make me sick." Dad's expression darkened instantly. But before he could speak, Vivian ran up behind him, breathless. "Sis... Mike and I are completely innocent! Today is a major event for the firm. Please don't leave. If you walk out now, you will ruin his reputation!" "Mike works so hard to support you and Kate. How can you be so ungrateful..." "Shut up!" Mom barked, her voice sharp enough to cut. She immediately reached down and covered my ears. "Don't you dare speak in front of my daughter. You two talk about 'discussing cases' day and night. Is this how you discuss them?" Vivian's face went white, then red. She bit her lip, squeezing out a few trembling words. "Sis... if you hate me this much, then I'll leave! I won't bother your perfect family ever again!" Vivian turned and bolted out into the rain toward the street. Suddenly, a pair of blinding headlights rounded the corner, roaring toward her. "Vivian!" Dad shrieked. He lunged forward, throwing his body to tackle Vivian out of the way of the oncoming sedan. The sound of screeching tires and a sickening crunch echoed through the air. A heavy darkness swallowed me up. When I finally woke up, my entire body was aching. I cried out, desperately wanting Mom. A nurse rushed to my bedside to soothe me. That was when I found out that we had been in a terrible accident. Mom had taken the brunt of the impact. She had just gotten out of emergency surgery and was lying in the intensive care unit next door, her body wrapped in heavy bandages. I ignored the nurse's protests, dragged my aching body out of bed, and limped to Mom's room. Seeing her lying there, completely covered in white gauze and tubes, I burst into loud, hysterical tears. I wanted Dad. Where was Dad? Through the cracked door of the ward, I heard two nurses whispering. "Such a shame. The kid's father hasn't even shown up to the ICU. The mother's legs are severely shattered... she might be crippled for life. A mother and child, completely abandoned..." "I know! But get this... I heard that when the crash happened, the father immediately ran to pull the sister-in-law to safety. If a bystander hadn't pulled the mother out of the wreckage, she would have died right there." "The sister-in-law only has minor scrapes, but the husband has been by her bedside downstairs the entire time." A wave of pure, hot anger surged through my chest. I stormed out of the room, ran to the nurse's station, and demanded to know where Dad was. In a private ward downstairs, I saw Dad sitting on the edge of a bed, tenderly blowing on a spoonful of warm porridge before feeding it to Vivian. I lost all control. I charged into the room and bit Dad's hand as hard as I could. "Dad! Mom is hurt so badly! Why aren't you with her? I hate you! I hate you!" A flash of intense guilt crossed Dad's eyes. Vivian let out a weak, pathetic cough, leaning back against her pillows. "Mike... go see Grace. I'll be fine. If only Grace wasn't so clumsy... if she hadn't run out after me, this accident would have never happened..." She then glared at me, her voice sharp. "Kate! How dare you bite your father? Is this the kind of manners your mother teaches you? You are going to grow up to be a completely uneducated brat!" Dad looked at Vivian, a flicker of approval in his eyes... a look of respect he had never once directed at Mom. But I didn't care about him anymore. I grabbed his sleeve and dragged him up to Mom's room. Dad spent the next few hours fussing over Mom, waiting anxiously until she finally opened her eyes. The moment Mom woke up, her eyes searched the room until they found me. Seeing that I was safe, she let out a long breath, and tears finally spilled down her cheeks. But the moment her gaze landed on Dad, her face turned completely cold. "Grace... there's a highly sensitive litigation at the firm right now, and Vivian is the lead on the file. That's why I had to ensure her safety first," Dad muttered, his voice tense as he tried to break the heavy silence. "I know," Mom said, her voice flat. "It doesn't matter." Dad froze, clearly not expecting her to be this calm. After a long pause, he let out a sigh of relief. "Vivian is an adult now. It's not right for her to keep living with us anyway. Once she recovers, I'll have her move into her own apartment." "Do whatever you want." Dad breathed a sigh of relief. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders and stood up. "I'll help Vivian look for a new place, and I have to head to the firm to clean up the fallout from the gala. I'll let Kate stay here and keep you company." The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Mom spoke, her voice raspy and dry. "Kate... would you like to move to a new city with Mom?" I nodded with everything I had. Mom didn't wait to fully heal. She checked herself out of the hospital, packed our things, and took me on a flight to the coastal city of Westfield. The moment our plane touched the tarmac, my phone reconnected to the network. A barrage of notifications lit up the screen.

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1 After a severe car crash three years ago, Tristan developed a bizarre condition. Every seven days, his memory would reset, wiping away every trace of his past. For three long years, I exhausted every resource, spent every penny, and begged every specialist to help him recover. But then, my best friend Brooke and I were involved in another terrible car accident. We were rushed to the same emergency room, side by side. As I lay semi-conscious on a cold, metal gurney, my vision blurred by blood, I heard Tristan’s voice. He was speaking to the attending trauma surgeon, smoothly and flawlessly reciting every single detail of Brooke’s medical history, from her blood type to her childhood allergies. Brooke, gasping for air from the gurney next to mine, stared up at him in shock. “Tristan… w-weren’t you supposed to have amnesia?” Tristan didn’t even look up from holding her hand. “I just faked it to keep Hazel quiet. Every time some stupid anniversary came up, she demanded some grand romantic gesture. It was exhausting.” The ambient noise of the emergency room seemed to vanish, leaving a ringing silence. I let out a weak, pathetic chuckle. A nurse finally noticed me lying right beside Brooke, my clothes soaked in far more blood, my breathing ragged. She tapped Tristan on the shoulder. “Sir, what about this patient? Do you know her?” Tristan cast a brief, indifferent glance at my mangled body. “No. I don’t know her.” I closed my eyes, and a single, hot tear sliced through the grime and blood on my cheek. If that was how he wanted it, then we would never know each other again. … I was wheeled rapidly into the trauma bay. The nurse gripped my hand, her voice urgent. “Sweetie, we need to take you into surgery immediately. Is there anyone here who can sign the consent form for you?” I looked past her shoulder toward the corridor. Tristan was standing there. He quickly averted his eyes when our gazes met, but I saw him take two hesitant steps toward the double doors. He didn’t make it any further. Brooke let out a sharp cry of pain, grabbing his arm, and he instantly turned back to comfort her. Suppressing the white-hot agony radiating through my body, I reached up and clutched the nurse’s scrubs. “I don’t have any family here. I’ll sign it myself.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flash of shock on Tristan’s face. What a sad, pitiful display. He was the one who had abandoned me, so why play the part of a worried spectator now? Did he want to make me believe, even for a second, that he actually cared? My hand was slick with my own blood, making the pen slip repeatedly against the paper. In the end, the nurse had to steady my wrist so I could scribble my name. The surgery was a success. When I finally opened my eyes in the sterile recovery room, the space was entirely empty. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and sent a text to my father. “I give up, Dad. Please come take me home.” My father replied almost instantly. “Remember our agreement.” I instinctively placed a hand over my lower abdomen. There was a tiny, fragile life growing inside me. But the moment I had discovered its existence, I knew I had to let it go. The door clicked open, and the doctor walked in, catching the gentle way I was holding my stomach. She offered a warm, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, the baby is incredibly resilient. The heartbeat is strong.” I didn’t say anything. My eyes were fixed on the notification that had just popped up on my phone. It was an Instagram post from Brooke. “Some men will cancel their most important board meetings just to make sure you get discharged safely.” The photo showed Brooke cradling a massive bouquet of red roses, with Tristan standing close behind her, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. After a long moment of silence, I looked up at the doctor. “Could you please schedule a termination for me?” The doctor froze, her smile faltering. “You just survived a massive car crash, and your baby survived with you. Are you absolutely sure about this?” I looked back at the screen, at the two of them looking like a perfect couple. “Yes. I’m sure.” There was no room for me in Tristan’s life anymore. I refused to humiliate myself any longer. When I refreshed my feed, the post was gone. Brooke had blocked me from seeing her updates. I let out a quiet, empty laugh, a dull numbness spreading from my chest down to my fingertips. It was late afternoon when Tristan finally walked into my room. He sat on the edge of my bed, reaching out to clasp my hand. His eyes were filled with the exact same tender warmth that had kept me captive for years. “I checked my journal when I got home last night, Hazel. I remember now. You’re the love of my life.” I still remembered the first time he had said those words to me. He had held me so tight I could barely breathe, weeping into my shoulder. “Why do I have to have this terrible disease? Why does my mind keep erasing the most important person in the world?” Back then, I had gently stroked his hair, whispering comfort. “It’s okay, Tristan. Every time you forget me, I’ll just hold your hand and lead you back down our path.” Now, looking at him, I realized how incredibly foolish I must have looked. He must have been laughing at how easily I swallowed his pathetic excuses. I pulled my hand out of his grip and asked in a quiet voice, “Who are you?” Tristan went rigid. He stood up abruptly, his voice rising. “What kind of nonsense is that? I’m your boyfriend, Hazel!” Then, as if realizing he was being too harsh, he sat back down, softening his tone. “Are you still angry because I said I didn’t know you in the ER? You know about my condition. Sometimes my mind just scrambles things.” I knew. It was because I knew, and because I had trusted him blindly, that I had let him play me like a fool for three years. Remembering my father’s words, I forced a small, compliant smile. “I was just teasing. When did the doctor say I could leave?” “Tomorrow morning,” he said. I did the math in my head. That would give me more than enough time to pack my life away. In three days, Tristan, I will disappear from your life forever. On the day of my discharge, Brooke and Tristan arrived together. The air between them was thick with an intimacy that left no room for anyone else, least of all me. The pain in my chest felt like a physical blade twisting in my ribs. I pressed a hand over my heart, trying to breathe. Brooke sat beside me, looking at my pale face with faux concern. “Hazel, you still look so weak. Maybe you should stay another night? You can always check out this afternoon instead.” I looked over at Tristan. He knew today was a special day. He knew I had personally designed a custom cake and ordered it to celebrate my recovery. Tristan avoided my gaze, gently grabbing Brooke’s elbow and pulling her out into the hallway. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my abdomen, I dragged myself out of bed and crept to the door, listening to their hushed voices. “Why are you rushing her to leave this afternoon?” Tristan asked. Brooke let out a playful, sweet whine. “I told you yesterday, Tristan! The appointment at the courthouse is today. They are waiting to issue our marriage license!” I froze, the breath catching in my throat. The marriage registry? Even now, I had tried to convince myself that their closeness was just some sick joke. We had been together for three years. How could he marry my only best friend? How could they betray me like this? Tristan let out a long sigh. “There’s no need to rush. She hasn’t fully recovered yet.” I couldn’t bear to hear another word. My legs trembling violently, I dragged myself back to the bed and buried my face in the pillow, my tears quickly soaking the fabric. When the heart breaks completely, it doesn’t scream. It just goes numb. I heard the door open, and Tristan’s voice drifted over me. “Brooke has a point, Hazel. You should rest a bit longer. I’ll come back to get you this afternoon.” “I asked the house keeper to bring you some lunch. I don’t want you eating hospital food.” Then, the sound of the door clicking shut. I pressed the call button, summoning the nurse. “I want to proceed with the termination. Right now.” The doctor arrived shortly after, looking concerned. “In your current physical state…” “I will take full responsibility for any complications,” I interrupted, my voice dead. My heart was completely cold. As I lay on the operating table for the second time in a week, tears poured silently down my temples. I felt the physical sensation of a life leaving my body. This was the child I had dreamed of having. I used to think that once we had a baby, Tristan would finally have no excuse not to marry me. Every time I had brought up marriage in the past, he would look at me with sorrowful eyes. “I’m terrified my condition will become a burden to you, Hazel. Let’s just love each other like this forever, okay?” “I can sign over all my assets to you. In private, you will always be my wife.” At the time, I thought it was the ultimate act of devotion, a man willing to give me everything he owned. But their conversation in the hallway was a brutal slap to my face. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get married. He just didn’t want to marry me. After the procedure, the nurse showed me the tiny, undeveloped sac. It was only two months old. But the phantom pain in my womb was excruciating. I had made the choice to deny this child a chance to see the world, all because of his father’s sins. Back in my room, I pulled up Brooke’s Instagram page. “From this day forward, he is my husband.” The post featured a photo of two marriage certificates resting on a velvet ring box. By the time Tristan finally returned to the hospital, the sun had long set. He looked flushed and sweaty, checking his watch. “I had some urgent business to take care of, Hazel. Sorry I’m late. Let’s go home.” I didn’t argue. I just nodded. I didn’t want to waste another breath on him. I couldn’t even tell which of his words were real and which were lies anymore. When we stepped into the apartment, Brooke was already sitting at our dining table. The custom cake I had designed sat in the center, half-demolished. She gave me a sweet, apologetic smile. “Hazel, I hope you’re not mad. I couldn’t help myself and took a slice.” Tristan let go of my hand, stepping toward her. “Of course she isn’t mad. You’re her best friend.” My best friend. The girl who had stood by me when we were teenagers. Back then, my parents only cared about my brother, and whenever I came home crying from being bullied at school, they told me to look at my own faults. It was Brooke who had fought them off for me. She had thrown her jacket over my head to shield me from the rain, laughing as she said, “From now on, we walk this path together.” A young girl’s loyalty is worth gold. She had walked with me for so long, only to lead me to the edge of a cliff. I slowly slid my engagement ring off my finger and set it on the table. “Actually, I am mad,” I said, my voice steady. “And Tristan, we’re done. Let’s break up.” Tristan froze, staring at the ring, then at me with utter disbelief. “A breakup? You’re ending our relationship over a piece of cake?” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Or is this just your excuse because you’re tired of taking care of a sick man?” I shook my head. “Neither. I’m twenty-eight years old, Tristan. It’s time for me to find someone who actually wants to marry me.” Tristan’s calm facade shattered. His eyes flushed red, and he roared at me, “You’re going to throw away years of history over this?” “What does our time together even mean to you? I don’t accept this breakup!” He grabbed Brooke’s hand, pulling her toward the front door. “Everyone in Boston knows you belong to me. Who else would even dare touch you? Stay here and clear your head.” The heavy mahogany door slammed shut, the sound vibrating in my chest. I didn’t need to look at my phone to know Brooke had already posted about it. A sharp, pulling pain flared in my lower abdomen, a brutal reminder of the choice I had made. There was no going back. I went upstairs, pulled out my two suitcases, and began packing my clothes. Every shirt, every book brought back a memory of the beautiful lie we had lived. When I was finally done, I realized just how much of Brooke’s stuff was scattered throughout my home. I hauled my suitcases down to the lobby and walked out of the complex. But before I could reach the street, a group of men blocked my path. They wore dark masks, and the stench of cheap alcohol and cigarettes made me stumble back. Before I could scream, they grabbed my wrists, dragging me toward an unmarked van. I bit down on one man’s hand with everything I had. He swore, releasing his grip, and I bolted back toward the gates, my hands shaking violently as I dialed Tristan’s number. The call connected, and I could hear the loud, thumping bass of a party in the background. I screamed into the receiver. “Tristan! Call the police! Someone is trying to kidnap me!” There was a long, terrible silence on the other end. “Hazel, if you want to make amends, do it properly. Don’t invent cheap lies to get my attention.” “Clearly, you still haven’t reflected on your behavior.” The line went dead. I dialed again and again, my fingers slick with cold sweat. No one answered. On the fourth try, the call went straight to voicemail. He had blocked me. The men caught up to me. No matter how hard I kicked and screamed, I was tossed into the back of the van, and a dark cloth was pulled over my head. When I finally regained consciousness, the air was freezing, thick with the heavy, salty smell of the ocean. Nearby, I could hear Brooke’s hysterical sobbing. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I screamed into the darkness, “What do you want? Money? My father will pay you whatever you want! Just let us go!” The cold metal of a blade slid down my cheek. A man’s gravelly voice whispered near my ear. “I don’t want money, sweetie. I just want to see who Tristan chooses when his back is against the wall.” A cold dread settled in my stomach. A few minutes later, the heavy metal doors of the warehouse creaked open, and Tristan’s frantic voice cut through the damp air. “Let them go!” “Well, look who finally showed up,” the gravelly voice mocked. “A few more minutes, and I was going to throw them both to the sharks.” I let out a shaky breath. “Tristan! I’m here!” I heard the sound of rushing footsteps, then a sudden, deafening gunshot that made the warehouse ring. “Who told you to move!” the kidnapper barked. The blindfold was ripped from my eyes. Tears flooded my vision, and I looked at Tristan, silently begging him to save me. Tristan took a deep breath, his hands trembling. “What is it going to take to let them go?” The kidnapper smirked, playing with his knife. “Simple. You choose one to take home, and the other one gets thrown into the harbor.” My entire body went numb. I stared at Tristan, seeing the calculations running behind his eyes. “Tristan, please…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I choose her,” Tristan said, pointing directly at Brooke without a single second of hesitation. Brooke gasped, her voice trembling with false nobility. “Tristan… but what about Hazel?” “Hazel will be fine,” Tristan said quickly, his voice tight. “Her family is incredibly powerful. These guys wouldn’t dare touch her.” The moment those words left his mouth, Tristan froze. He had forgotten. A year ago, he had claimed his amnesia had wiped out all memory of my family’s wealthy background. Whenever I had asked him to accompany me to my family’s estate, he had told me to go alone, claiming he had no idea who my parents even were. “Hazel… I…” He stammered, his face turning a sickly shade of gray, but he couldn’t find a single lie to save himself. The kidnapper sliced Brooke’s ropes, pushing her rough-shod into Tristan’s waiting arms. “You’ve made your choice. Now get out of here!” Tristan looked down at Brooke clinging to his chest, then looked back at me, his eyes pleading. “Hazel… don’t worry. As soon as I get Brooke to a safe place, I’ll come back for you.” “Please, believe me…” I watched their retreating figures as they hurried toward the exit, a bitter, hollow smile forming on my lips. Tristan, you lied to me for three consecutive years. How could I ever believe you again? Their figures dissolved into the shadows, leaving me alone in the dark.

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We had finally found two young girls who could potentially be our long-lost daughter. One of them looked remarkably like me, possessing my exact eyes and nose. Yet, when the DNA test results came back, they declared that the other girl was my biological child. As I stood there, utterly paralyzed by confusion, a strange, glowing feed of scrolling text comments suddenly materialized in front of my eyes: [Oh my god, the male lead is so romantic! To protect the female lead from suffering, he regressed and swapped her blood sample with the supporting girl’s. Now the female lead gets to be his pampered “little sister.” I am absolutely living for this!] [It’s a little unfair to the real daughter, though. She was so close to finally being reunited with her real parents.] [Who cares? The vicious supporting girl spent her entire past life targeting the female lead and did everything she could to keep the main couple apart. She deserves this.] My ten-year-old son, Lucas, pointed a finger at the little girl who shared my features, his face twisted in disgust. “Mom, since she isn’t my sister, throw her back to St. Jude’s immediately. I hate her!” Beside him, my husband, Richard, nodded in agreement. “He has a point. We should send her back as soon as possible.” 1 The moment my son, Lucas, gestured for the security guard to drag our biological daughter away, I raised my voice. “Wait!” Richard, my husband, looked at me with a frown of confusion. “Eleanor, what’s wrong?” I lifted the crisp paper of the DNA report in my hand. “Are you absolutely certain there are no mistakes in this document?” Richard nodded without a second of hesitation. “Of course, sweetheart. I had Assistant Davis personally guard the lab. He brought the results straight to me the second they were printed. No one else even laid a finger on the files.” I slowly shifted my gaze, locking onto Lucas, my ten-year-old son. “And the blood samples?” Lucas kept his expression perfectly calm, but I caught the briefest, guilt-ridden flicker of panic in his eyes before he looked away. Richard let out a soft laugh, completely oblivious. “Dr. Collins drew the blood himself, didn’t he? There is no room for error. Eleanor, I know you think Lily looks like you, but a resemblance doesn’t automatically mean a blood relation.” “Sometimes, two completely unrelated strangers can look identical. Science doesn’t lie, sweetheart. We have to trust the test.” Standing beside him, the little girl the report claimed was our daughter, Fiona, looked up at me. Her eyes were wide, swimming with tears as she whimpered, “Does Mommy not like me?” I looked down at Fiona, an instinctive knot of disgust tightening in my chest. I couldn’t explain it, but her innocent, wide-eyed look felt deeply calculated, harboring a malice that didn’t belong to a child her age. It was this gut feeling that made the test results feel so utterly repulsive and wrong. Seeing Fiona on the verge of tears, Richard immediately knelt down to comfort her. “Fiona, sweetheart, Mommy doesn’t dislike you. She is just adjusting. Give her some time.” Fiona nodded meekly, her lower lip trembling. “Fiona will be a good girl. I’ll make Mommy love me.” Richard’s heart melted, and he scooped her into his arms. “You are such a sweet girl.” Fiona buried her face in Richard’s shoulder, pretending to cry, but a strange, glowing chat feed suddenly materialized in front of my eyes, scrolling with floating comments: Wait, is the female lead acting too? Did she regress as well? Looks like she did! Double regression! This is getting good, haha! A cold sneer formed in my mind. She knew she wasn’t my daughter, yet she was actively pretending to be. What a rotten, deceptive child. No wonder my maternal instincts recoiled from her. Lucas pointed a finger at the other little girl, the one who possessed my exact eyes and nose, and spoke with pure disgust. “Mom, I told you I hate her. Can we please throw her back to the children’s home already?” Suppressing the urge to slap my own son, I ignored him and knelt in front of the quiet, trembling girl. “Lily, would you like to come with me?” The anxious little girl looked at me with wide, cautious eyes before nodding softly. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” She clearly thought I was driving her back to the orphanage. I didn’t correct her just yet. I took her small, cold hand in mine and led her out toward the garage. 2 Once we were safely inside the car, I turned down the radio and looked at her. “Lily, would you be willing to do another DNA test with me?” Lily blinked, her voice barely a whisper. “Ma’am… aren’t you taking me back to St. Jude’s?” I shook my head, offering a gentle smile. “No. We’re going to a private clinic. We are doing another test.” I loved this little girl the moment I saw her. Even if the results came back negative, I had already decided I would never let her go back to that cold children’s home. Lily didn’t quite understand, but she nodded trustingly. The floating chat in my vision flashed again: Oh my god! The male lead’s mom is doing another test? Is his plan going to fail? Why is his mom so annoying? She hated the female lead in her past life too. Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law are natural enemies! I have always been a highly rational woman. If I despised Fiona, it wasn’t because of some cosmic mother-in-law rivalry. It was simply because Fiona was a wretched, deceptive creature. An hour later, I had Lily at an independent, highly secure diagnostic center, requesting an expedited test. I didn’t trust a single soul in my household anymore. To prevent anyone from tampering with the vials, I sat in the waiting room with Lily, refusing to leave until the paper was in my hand. Two hours in, Richard called my phone. “Eleanor, when are you coming home? Fiona is waiting for you so we can have dinner.” “I have some business to take care of,” I replied, my voice flat. “Eat without me.” Richard let out a disappointed sigh. “Alright, but don’t stay out too late. Fiona misses you.” I hung up and looked at Lily, who was watching me with a worried expression. “Ma’am… the first test couldn’t have been wrong.” “Our resemblance is probably just a coincidence. You shouldn’t waste your time and money on me.” I reached out and gently ruffled her soft hair. “We’ll know the truth soon enough. I ordered some takeout. Let’s eat first.” Lily nodded obediently. After another three hours of agonizing waiting, the technician finally stepped out with the sealed envelope. There was no surprise. The biological probability of maternity was 99.99 percent. Lily was my daughter. I pulled my little girl into my arms, my tears flowing freely as I squeezed her tight. Lily froze in shock, her small arms hanging by her sides before she slowly wrapped them around my neck, whispering a single, tentative word. “Mommy…” “I’m here, baby,” I choked out through my sobs. “Mommy finally found you.” The glowing comments in my vision updated rapidly: This isn’t how the plot was supposed to go. Lucas’s plan completely failed. It’s fine. Even if his mom doesn’t accept the female lead, Lucas is a regressor. He won’t just let his beloved Fiona suffer in an orphanage. But Lucas is only ten right now. He doesn’t have the power to challenge his mother. Don’t worry. He’s a regressed male lead. He’s not weak. He will eliminate all obstacles in his path, including his own mother and biological sister! I let out a silent, icy laugh. I wanted to see exactly how my own flesh and blood planned to “eliminate” his mother and sister for the sake of an outsider. 3 Both Richard and I were incredibly busy running our respective companies. When Lily was only three months old, a group of human traffickers had snatched her right out of her nanny’s arms during a walk in the park. They had sold her to a wealthy, infertile couple, but the moment that couple miraculously conceived their own child, they abandoned Lily on the streets. For seven long years, we had searched every corner of the country. It was only two weeks ago that we finally traced her file to St. Jude’s Home. Once my emotions settled, I took Lily’s hand and drove back to our estate. The moment we walked through the front door, the atmosphere in the living room turned frigid. Richard, Lucas, and Fiona stared at us with deep disapproval. Fiona’s eyes immediately welled with tears, looking as if I had personally insulted her. Lucas’s face contorted with rage, and he pointed a finger at Lily, shouting, “Mom! Why did you bring that garbage back here? You were supposed to drop her off at the orphanage!” Richard stood up, looking at me with a patronizing sigh. “Eleanor, I know you have a soft spot for Lily because she looks like you. But the test was clear. Fiona is our flesh and blood.” “You can’t let your stubbornness hurt our real daughter’s feelings.” I didn’t spare Richard a glance. Instead, I stared directly into my son’s eyes, watching the dark hatred swirling in his gaze. “Lily is my daughter. She is your biological sister. Why shouldn’t I bring her home?” A flash of sheer panic crossed Lucas’s face, but he quickly masked it with indignation. “You’ve lost your mind, Mom! She isn’t my sister! Fiona is!” I let out a slow, mocking laugh. “Is that so?” Lucas’s confidence began to crumble, his voice shaking slightly. “Of course it’s true.” Richard looked back and forth between us, utterly confused. “Eleanor, what is going to go on here?” I pulled the fresh DNA report from my bag and slammed it against Richard’s chest. “See for yourself!” Lucas gasped, his voice cracking. “You did another test?!” Fiona’s face went pale, and she instinctively shrank behind Lucas’s shoulder. Richard opened the envelope with trembling hands, his eyes scanning the document. “This… how is this possible?” “How?” I sneered. “Why don’t you ask your brilliant son?” Richard turned a furious gaze toward Lucas. “Lucas! What did you do?” Realizing his scheme had been exposed, Lucas dropped all pretense of innocence, glaring at Lily with pure malice. “I swapped the blood samples! I hate her! I don’t want a pathetic loser like her to be my sister!” Lily shrank back in terror at his outburst. I immediately wrapped my arms around her, pressing her head against my chest to shield her. Richard roared, “You little brat! Lily is your sister! Even if you like Fiona, how dare you tamper with a medical test?” Lucas didn’t show a single ounce of remorse. “I don’t care! I will never acknowledge her as my sister!” He grabbed Fiona’s hand and stormed up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door. Richard was shaking with rage. “That ungrateful little…” The floating comments scrolled by: Are they really going to send the female lead back to the orphanage now? Please, no! My poor baby Fiona shouldn’t have to suffer! Lucas won’t let her. Any suffering she faces will only be temporary. The male lead’s mother is so repulsive. I hope she and the vicious sister get written out of the script soon. 4 Richard felt incredibly guilty for nearly abandoning our real daughter. He held Lily in his arms, weeping as he apologized over and over. I was furious with his lack of oversight, but seeing his genuine remorse, I only scolded him a few times before letting it go. “It’s almost midnight. I’m going to put Lily to bed. Go handle Fiona.” If Fiona were a normal, innocent child, I wouldn’t have minded adopting her. But she possessed an adult soul and a corrupted heart. I could not allow a viper to sleep under my roof. Richard sighed, nodding. “Alright.” Once Lily fell asleep, I slipped out of her room and returned to our master bedroom. Richard was already waiting inside. He stood up immediately to help me off with my coat, looking deeply troubled. “Eleanor… Lucas is throwing a massive fit. He says if we send Fiona away, he’s going to run away from home.” “We have more than enough money. Why don’t we just adopt Fiona? It’s just one more mouth to feed…” I turned, my gaze freezing him in place. Richard’s posture slumped, and he let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. I’ll have the driver take her back to St. Jude’s tomorrow morning.” “But Lucas is going to make our lives a living hell.” “Let him,” I said coldly. “If he wants to pack his bags and move into the children’s home with her, I’ll gladly pay for his cab.” Today, he was willing to erase his own sister for an outsider. Tomorrow, he would be willing to destroy our entire family for her. The only thing keeping me from throwing him out of the house was the small shred of maternal instinct I had left. Richard wrapped his arms around me in a comforting hug. “He’s still young, Eleanor. He’s just acting on impulse. Once we sit him down and explain things, he’ll realize he was wrong.” I remained silent. Lucas wasn’t a normal ten-year-old child. And even if he were, some souls are born rotten, beyond any saving. 5 The next morning, Richard arranged for Fiona to be sent back to St. Jude’s. I expected Lucas to scream and thrash, but he remained eerily quiet. He sat at the breakfast table, staring at the floor, a dark, venomous hatred brewing in his eyes. I knew he resented both me and Lily. It was painful to see my own son look at me that way, but I had already made peace with the fact that I might have to treat him as a stranger. Because of our demanding careers, Richard and I couldn’t be with Lily every second of the day. I hired two highly qualified private nannies, giving them strict instructions never to let Lily out of their sight. Although Lucas ignored Lily entirely, he didn’t attempt to physically harm her. I could see that Lily desperately wanted a relationship with her older brother. She would watch him from a distance, or run to help him whenever he dropped something, only to scurry away the moment he glared at her. Lucas’s initial hostility seemed to soften slightly over the next few weeks, no longer flinching away when she stood near him. Deep down, I wanted nothing more than a peaceful, happy family. Richard was equally thrilled to see the ice between the siblings starting to melt. Three months flew by. For the school’s summer festival, Richard and I cleared our schedules to spend the entire day with the kids. Lily wanted to visit the municipal aquarium, while Lucas insisted on going to an indoor rock-climbing gym. Knowing Lucas possessed an adult soul, I didn’t force him to join us at the aquarium. Richard took Lucas to the gym, while I took Lily to see the marine life. At seven in the evening, I brought a exhausted, happy Lily back to the estate. As we walked up the driveway, the sound of childish laughter drifted from the open living room windows. Puzzled, Lily pushed the front door open, holding a gift she had carefully picked out for Lucas. The scene inside made us both freeze in our tracks. Richard and Lucas were running around the couch, playing a lively game of tag with a girl who shouldn’t have been there… Fiona. Seeing us standing in the doorway, the laughter died down, and the three of them stopped playing. Richard offered a hesitant, nervous smile as he walked over to us. “Hey, sweetie. Did you have fun with Mommy today?” Lily clutched the gift bag tightly to her chest, nodding slowly. “Yes, Daddy.” “I’m glad.” Richard patted her head, then turned to look at me, his expression incredibly tense. “Eleanor, there’s something we need to talk about.” “A few days ago, I made a shocking discovery. Fiona’s late father was actually one of my closest friends from university.” “I can’t bear the thought of his only child growing up in a cold orphanage. I’ve decided to formally adopt Fiona.” The glowing comments began to scroll across my vision: The mother-in-law never saw this coming! Fiona’s biological mother was actually the university goddess of the male lead’s father! His tragic first love’s daughter! Unbeatable! And that’s not all… Fiona’s real father is actually incredibly powerful! She is the secret heiress of the elite Belmont family! Eleanor and Lily aren’t even worthy of wiping her shoes! Fiona is going to inherit everything. If Eleanor dares to cross her, she is dead! 6 I took a deep, steady breath, forcing down the white-hot rage that threatened to consume me. “Richard, I am going to give you two choices.” “One, you send Fiona back to the children’s home tonight and promise never to meddle in her life again.” “Two, we get a divorce.” The nervous, placating smile on Richard’s face vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. “It’s just one more child in this massive house! We have the money. Why must you be so incredibly hostile toward Fiona?” “Divorce it is,” I said, my voice dead calm. By choosing Fiona, he was choosing the memory of his tragic first love over his actual wife. I refused to tolerate a single speck of betrayal in my marriage. I took Lily’s hand and led her straight up the stairs to pack our bags. Half an hour later, I carried our suitcases down to the lobby, my daughter’s hand gripped firmly in mine. Lucas and Fiona watched us from the stairs, their eyes cold and indifferent. Richard blocked the exit, his face red with anger. “Eleanor, are you seriously doing this over a child?” “Do I look like I’m joking?” I replied, looking at him with utter disgust. “She is a sweet, innocent girl! What did she ever do to make you hate her this much?” My composure snapped, and a razor-sharp smile touched my lips. “If she weren’t the daughter of your beloved college goddess, would you still be standing here fighting me to adopt her?” Richard froze, staring at me in utter shock and panic. Before he could stammer out a lie, I pushed past him, walking out into the cool night air with Lily. This is perfect! The main characters have finally cut ties with these two toxic women! But wait… if they actually divorce, Eleanor’s pre-marital company is incredibly successful. Richard doesn’t own a single share. She’s going to walk away with a massive fortune. It doesn’t matter. Her little company is nothing compared to the Belmont Group. Once Fiona is welcomed back into the Belmont family, she can crush Eleanor’s business in a matter of seconds! The Belmonts? They were indeed one of the most powerful, elite families in the country. But Mrs. Catherine Belmont had a young son, Oliver, who was the sole, undisputed heir to their fortune. How could a secret, illegitimate daughter like Fiona ever inherit the Belmont empire? Unless… the young heir, Oliver, suffered some kind of fatal accident. I needed to find out exactly what this “accident” was, and when it was supposed to happen.

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In my previous life, my newborn son was stolen on his second day in this world. My wife lost her mind. She spent six months searching for him before finally jumping off our balcony. I drank myself to death on the streets. In this life, I trust absolutely no one. When the head nurse said she needed to take the baby for a checkup, I stood up and blocked the crib. “What checkup? Which department? Where is the requisition form? Did the attending physician sign off on this?” She froze, stammering that it was just a routine hearing screening. “If it is a routine screening, why is the head nurse coming to fetch him personally?” “I do not trust anyone. Bring me the paperwork, and I will carry the baby to the examination room with you. Otherwise, this conversation is over.” She stood there, paralyzed. 1 The day my son was born, I held that tiny, wrinkled little thing, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Evelyn lay on the hospital bed, her lips pale, smiling up at me. “That new commercial tower in the South District. All twelve floors are going in this kid’s name.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “And the profit shares from the land parcel we bought last year, those belong to you.” “Everything I earn is for you and our boy.” Evelyn chuckled weakly. “You need to calm down.” I told her I would not calm down. I was too damn happy. The next day, my son vanished. Evelyn went completely mad. She searched for half a year before throwing herself from our balcony. I drank myself into an early grave in a dirty alleyway. Right before I died, all I could think about was the sound of my son’s first cry. This time around, all I wanted was for my wife and child to live. For an entire day, I did not let a single person touch my son. When the nurses came to take his temperature, I stood right next to them, watching their every move. But when Fiona, the head nurse, pushed the door open with a warm smile and said she needed to take the baby for a newborn hearing screening, my shirt instantly soaked with cold sweat. “Mr. Davis, it is time for the baby’s hearing test. I will take him down to the examination room on the third floor and have him back in thirty minutes.” She was wearing a surgical mask, leaving only her gentle, crinkling eyes visible. The junior nurse beside her nodded in agreement. “Nurse Fiona always handles the screenings personally. She is very experienced.” I stood up and planted myself directly in front of the crib. “What screening? Do you have the procedural paperwork? Did the head doctor sign it? And what hospital policy dictates that the head nurse must carry the baby herself?” Fiona looked taken aback. “Mr. Davis, please do not be so tense. This is a standard procedure…” “I asked if you have the paperwork.” I cut her off. I pulled my phone out of the nightstand drawer, opened the camera, and hit record. “Please repeat yourself. Who sent you, what exact screening are you performing, which room are you taking him to, and what is the attending doctor’s name? I am recording this entire process.” The eyes above Fiona’s mask narrowed slightly, a flash of resentment crossing her face. “You are overreacting, Mr. Davis. Newborn screenings are scheduled hospital wide. This maternity ward has been operating for over a decade, and we have never had a single incident.” “I do not care about anyone else’s incidents.” I scooped up the swaddled bundle. My son was sleeping soundly, his little face scrunched up. “I only care about my son. Go get the paperwork, and I will carry him to the examination room myself.” Fiona’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. “Mr. Davis, do you not trust me?” “It is not about trusting you.” I stared dead into her eyes. “I do not trust anybody.” The room fell dead silent for several seconds. Fiona took a step back and forced a polite smile. “Please wait a moment then. I will go print the forms.” She turned and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut, I looked down at the boy in my arms, then over at my wife sleeping in the hospital bed. I still remembered the way Evelyn had cried until her eyes bled in my past life. In this life, nobody was going to touch a single hair on my son’s head. 2 For the rest of the day, I held my son and refused to leave his side. Feeding, changing diapers, burping him. I did it all myself. When Evelyn woke up and saw me sitting on the sofa cradling the baby, her eyes grew red. “Nolan, you have not slept in three days.” “I am not tired.” I replied. She reached out and touched my cheek. Her fingers were freezing. “You look terrible. I am worried you are going to collapse.” “I will not collapse.” I grabbed her hand, my voice coming out gravelly. “As long as you and the baby are here, I can handle anything.” Evelyn did not push it. She knew me too well. Once I made up my mind, nothing on earth could drag me away. That night, I pushed the crib right up against my side of the bed and locked the ward door. I left a security camera running on the nightstand and synced my phone to my smartwatch so the slightest vibration would wake me. By two in the morning, my sheer exhaustion caught up with me. My eyelids felt like lead. I do not know how much time passed, but Evelyn’s piercing scream practically blew my eardrums out. “Nolan!” I shot up from the mattress. The crib was empty. Evelyn stood by the bed, her face the color of chalk, her lips trembling violently. She threw off the blankets to get out of bed, but her legs gave out before her feet even hit the floor. I caught her, my own fingers shaking uncontrollably. “Do not panic. Just lay back down.” It was exactly like my past life. The exact same empty crib. The exact same suffocating despair. Evelyn had jumped. I had died in a gutter. I stood there, my knees turning to jelly. Evelyn sank to the floor and sobbed, muffling the sound against her arms. “I did not watch him closely enough…” “It is not your fault.” I knelt down and grabbed her shoulders. “Look at me.” She refused to look up. “Evelyn, look at me.” She snapped her head up, her face drenched in tears. “Call the police.” “Right.” I pulled out my phone. First, I called hospital administration to lock down the building. Then, I dialed 911. Evelyn sat on the bed, hugging her knees, burying her face in her arms. The door to our room had been left wide open. More and more people were gathering in the hallway outside. Nurses, doctors, and family members from other rooms. People peeked inside, catching sight of the empty crib, and gasped. “Is the baby really gone?” “What a tragedy, he was just born a few days ago.” “What kind of parents are they?” “All that money, and they can not even keep an eye on their own child.” Evelyn’s shoulders began to convulse. She heard them. I stood up, walked to the doorway, and pulled the door halfway shut. Some people were still craning their necks to look inside. A middle-aged woman stood in the corridor with her arms crossed, gossiping loudly. “How do you lose a baby that big? Are we sure they are the real parents?” Another man chimed in. “They probably just did not care enough. Dressed all fancy, but too lazy to watch a newborn.” I looked back at Evelyn. She hugged her knees tighter, burying her face even deeper, her shoulders violently shaking. It was exactly like my past life. After my son disappeared, people whispered the exact same things everywhere we went. I pushed the door wide open and stepped out into the hall. The corridor went silent for a moment. The middle-aged woman scoffed. “Oh, here he comes. What do you want…” I stared a hole right through her. “What did you just say?” She shrank back a step. “I did not say anything. I just said…” “Say it again.” She clamped her mouth shut. The man next to her spoke up. “Hey, people are just showing concern. What is with your attitude?” I turned my eyes to him. “My son is missing. What exactly are you concerned about?” He opened his mouth but could not find a single word. 3 Detective Bennett pushed his way through the crowd with his team and taped off the room. “Mr. Davis, we are here.” I nodded. “Check the security cameras.” The hospital guards pulled up the footage. At 4:13 AM, the feed turned to static for exactly fifteen seconds. “The baby never left the building.” Detective Bennett confirmed. “Search everything.” His officers started tearing the place apart. Patient rooms, supply closets, cafeterias, operating theaters, bathrooms. Room by room. The crowd of onlookers in the hallway still had not dispersed. People were whispering among themselves. “The cameras were jammed. They are never getting that kid back.” “A baby that small? Whoever took him is long gone by now.” “These parents are unbelievable.” Evelyn sat inside the room, hearing every single word through the door. She had stopped crying out loud. She was terrifyingly quiet. I stood in the hallway, waiting. One of Bennett’s officers ran up and shook his head. Another officer jogged over and shook his head. Someone in the crowd let out a cold laugh. “What did I tell you? Gone forever.” I snapped my head in that direction. The person quickly ducked behind the crowd. Detective Bennett walked over and lowered his voice. “Mr. Davis, we have swept every room on this floor. Nobody.” “The cameras at the exits did not catch anyone leaving.” “That means the child is still inside this building. A baby does not just vanish into thin air.” It was exactly like my past life. Camera static, clueless nurses, and a baby evaporating from the face of the earth. Evelyn had starved herself for three days, withering away into a skeleton. She had told me that if we could not find him, she had no reason to live. I leaned against the wall, sweat rolling down the back of my neck. My brain was absolute mush. My legs felt like they were made of water. Bennett’s team swept room after room, and every time, they came back shaking their heads. I clenched my fists so hard my fingernails dug into my palms. And then I saw Fiona. She was standing behind the nurses’ station, her white uniform immaculate, holding a paper cup of water. She was watching the commotion just like everyone else. Her face was completely devoid of emotion. Perfectly calm. A memory from yesterday slammed into my mind. She had told me she needed to take the baby for a hearing test, and I had blocked her. I asked her a few extra questions about the paperwork, and she walked away. She never came back. But out of all the people working here, why was she the very first one to try and take my son? With dozens of junior nurses on duty, why did the head nurse show up at my door personally? “Fiona.” I barely registered my own voice calling her name. She looked up, her eyes locking onto mine. I started walking toward her. The nurses’ station was only a few yards away, but every step felt impossibly heavy. She took a half-step backward. “Mr. Davis…” “Where is my son?” “Excuse me?” “Where is he?” I grabbed the collar of her pristine white uniform and yanked her forward. The paper cup slipped from her hands, smashing onto the floor. “Give me my son back.” “Mr. Davis! What are you doing!” Her face drained of color as she struggled and tried to pull away. Two nearby nurses rushed over and grabbed my arms. “Let her go!” “You can not just assault people!” I did not loosen my grip. “Yesterday afternoon. You tried to take my son for a test, did you not?” “I was just doing my rounds…” “I asked you one question, and you left. You never came back.” “That is because you refused to let me take him!” “And the second you left, my son disappeared.” Her hands clawed at my wrists, her nails digging into my skin. “I did not do anything! I swear!” The police officers rushed in. Detective Bennett grabbed me from behind, pulling my arms back. “Mr. Davis, let her go!” He managed to drag me a few steps away. Fiona slumped against the counter of the nurses’ station, the collar of her uniform completely ruined. She gasped for air, her eyes turning red. “I did not do anything…” Her voice started to tremble. “I am just a regular nurse here. I came to ask a question yesterday, you said no, and I left.” “What does your missing baby have to do with me?” A younger nurse patted her on the back. “Fiona has been in the breakroom this entire shift. We can all vouch for her.” Another nurse glared at me. “You can not just throw baseless accusations around, Mr. Davis.” The crowd in the hallway started up again. “Oh, look at that. He can not find his kid, so he assaults a nurse.” “What did that poor woman do to deserve that?” “Rich people are all the same. The second something goes wrong, they find a scapegoat.” 4 Evelyn walked out of our hospital room. She leaned heavily against the doorframe, her face pale as a sheet of paper, her eyes swollen shut. “Nolan.” I turned to look at her. She slowly dragged herself toward me, swaying with every step. “Please stop.” “Evelyn…” “Nolan, you need to calm down.” Fiona stood behind the nurses’ station, clutching her chest as tears streamed down her face. “Mr. Davis, I know you are desperate…” “But you can not do this to me.” “I have only been working at this hospital for six months. I am just an employee. Why would I ever steal a baby?” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking violently. The hallway went completely silent. Then, someone pulled out a phone and started recording. “Look at this rich guy bullying a young nurse in public.” “Loses his own kid and starts acting like a rabid dog.” “Absolutely disgusting.” Evelyn’s grip on my arm suddenly tightened. Her entire body swayed, and her knees buckled. I shot my arms out and caught her before she hit the floor. She leaned against my chest, burying her face into my shirt. “Nolan…” “Let’s go back to the room.” I scooped her up in my arms and carried her back. The venomous whispers followed us the whole way. “What kind of person does that?” “Can not even protect his own child, so he blames the staff.” “If I were his wife, I would have left him.” Evelyn flinched in my arms. I held her tighter, refusing to look back. Her shoulders were trembling. She wasn’t making a sound. Even with the heavy hospital door shut, the muffled gossip from the corridor seeped through the cracks. I held her hand tightly. She did not squeeze back. “Evelyn.” No answer. “Trust me.” Her shoulders twitched. “I will find him.” The police tore through all three floors of the maternity ward and found absolutely nothing. The tech department was working on the security hard drives, trying to recover the corrupted data. Evelyn had been given a mild sedative. she had finally fallen asleep, tears still clinging to her eyelashes. I squatted alone in the hallway, smoking a cigarette. The third floor, the fourth floor, the fifth floor. Every conceivable hiding spot had been turned inside out. Storage closets, breakrooms, operating theaters. They even opened the toilet tanks. Nothing. A three-day-old infant had simply evaporated. I stared blankly at the cigarette butt on the floor. It was not until a drop of sweat rolled down my neck and stung my eye that I finally noticed something completely wrong. The heat. The fifth floor was boiling. This was the VIP ward. The central air was strictly maintained at seventy-two degrees year-round. But right now, it felt closer to eighty. The air was thick and suffocating. I stood up and walked down the length of the corridor. Every single ventilation grate was pushing out air, but the airflow was incredibly weak. There was almost no chill to it. It was not like this last night. When I was changing my son’s diaper hours ago, the room was so cold I had to put an extra blanket over Evelyn. Something was deeply wrong. I sprinted to the stairwell and ran down to the third floor. The moment I pushed the fire doors open, a blast of freezing AC hit my face. The central air on the third floor was working perfectly. It was freezing cold. I checked the fourth floor. Same thing. Icy. Only the fifth floor felt like a sauna. I called the hospital’s engineering department. “Who manages the HVAC for the fifth floor?” The guy on the phone hesitated. “Mr. Davis, we do not handle that floor. The VIP section has a standalone HVAC system. Gary from maintenance holds the master keys.” “Give me Gary’s number.” I called him three times. It went straight to voicemail. The sickening knot of anxiety in my gut pulled tighter. I found the maintenance room. It was locked. I kicked the door, but it held firm. I turned to a passing janitor. “Where is Gary? Is he working today?” The older woman thought for a second. “I think he got here super early. I saw him pushing his tool cart toward the East Wing, but I have not seen him since.” The East Wing. The eastern edge of the fifth floor was a row of abandoned storage closets. When I rented out the VIP suite, I had checked the floor plans. The room at the very end of the hall was practically pressed against the main AC turbines. The noise was so bad they had stopped using it years ago. It did not belong to any specific medical department. And the hallway cameras did not cover that deep into the corner. It was the only blind spot on the entire floor. I sprinted toward that abandoned storage room. There was a heavy brass padlock on the door. It looked brand new, completely out of place on the rusted door handle. I hammered it with my fist three times, but it did not budge. I grabbed a heavy metal fire extinguisher from the wall box, swung it over my head, and brought it down on the lock with everything I had. The brass shattered, and the heavy door groaned open. The room was completely empty. Nothing but a few boxes of expired surgical gauze and an overwhelming smell of dust. Nothing. I stood in the center of the room, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ground together. This made no sense. If there was nothing in here, why was there a brand-new lock on the door? Why secure an empty room in a camera blind spot? I tilted my head and looked at the ceiling. The heavy metal screws on the ventilation grate were stripped and shiny. Someone had just unscrewed them. I dragged an old desk over, climbed on top, and twisted the loose screws off with my bare hands. The shaft was pitch black. A rush of stale, stiflingly warm air blew into my face. I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and shoved my head and shoulders up into the duct. The metal tunnel stretched inward for a few yards before taking a sharp turn. From deep inside the metal darkness, I heard a sound. It was incredibly faint. Like a stray kitten. Or like a baby who had cried until his vocal cords were completely shredded. My scalp exploded with pure terror. “Son!” The tiny noise in the duct stopped for a fraction of a second, and then escalated into a desperate, heartbreaking wail.

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My mom forbade me from dating before college graduation. So, I had to date secretly online. When my online boyfriend mailed me a pair of sensory-linked dolls, my mom scolded me. “All you do all day is buy junk online. You should use that time to learn from Adam on how to be excellent.” Hearing his name, my stepbrother shot me a cold, indifferent glance. He gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things require natural talent. You can’t just learn them.” What a pretentious jerk. I curled my lip in disgust. In a fit of petty rage, I aggressively poked the doll right on its chest. A second later. My stepbrother suddenly furrowed his brow and clamped a hand over his own chest. 1 Adam’s face was still pale by the time we sat down at the dinner table. I placed the doll back into its box and shot him a sideways glance. “Hey, are you going to live?” Adam cleared his throat gently, the color finally returning to his face. “Sorry to disappoint you.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “If you ask me, you just have a toxic mouth, and karma finally caught up with you.” My mom glared at me from across the table. “Chloe! Is that how you speak to your brother?” I looked down and aggressively shoveled rice into my mouth. “I never accepted him as my brother.” Adam cast a frigid look at me, matching my hostility flawlessly. “Good.” “Anyone who would willingly want to be your brother probably has water in their brain.” 2 After dinner, I bolted back to my room and locked the door. I couldn’t wait to message my online boyfriend, Land. “Baby, I got the gift you sent me! ~” For our hundred-day anniversary, we had agreed to exchange gifts. I picked up the plush cotton doll, snapped a quick photo, and tried to send it to him. The message failed to deliver. While I was still fighting with my internet connection, a message from him popped up. “I’m glad you like it.” Following that text was a half-body selfie. Draped across his incredibly built, muscular chest was the delicate silver body chain I had gifted him. It sparkled against his skin. It looked absolutely divine. My eyes uncontrollably locked onto two specific points on his chest. They were suspiciously, vividly red. “Did you secretly play with it yourself?” He replied, sounding deeply wronged. “Baby, you’re falsely accusing me! >” I met Land on a niche internet forum. At the time, I was losing my mind trying to secure a senior internship while simultaneously enduring my mother’s relentless criticism. “Other girls your age can study for civil service exams, prep for grad school, and nail internships all at once. Why can’t you?” Desperate for an outlet to relieve the pressure, I stumbled onto that forum. I spilled all my inner frustrations and anxieties into a post. Mostly, I just attracted a bunch of weirdos. Just as I was thoroughly discouraged and ready to delete my account, I met Land. He soothed my frazzled nerves and offered genuinely practical advice. We added each other as friends. Eventually, we became a couple. I snapped out of my daydream to find Land’s aggrieved complaints flooding my screen. “I have no idea what happened. It actually kind of hurts.” “I promised you, baby. Only you are allowed to touch me, and I always keep my promises.” “Do you really not believe me? >” I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from turning up. When I first met him, he always spoke in a calm, hyper-rational tone. But the longer we dated, the more he started mimicking my texting style, adding all sorts of emoticons. He was turning into a clingy, affectionate giant. After texting him a few comforting words, I pivoted to praising his gift, telling him the doll was adorable. He seemed a bit embarrassed. “This was my first time trying my hand at ceramics. Once I get better at it, I’ll make you an even prettier one.” I froze. “Wait, so the little ceramic figurine was your only gift?” He seemed to misunderstand my confusion. “No, there was another gift too.” A second later, I received a cash transfer notification from him for $1,314. Wait. So he didn’t send me the plush doll? I picked the cotton doll back up and inspected it closely. A tiny slip of paper fell out from beneath the doll’s clothes. I stared at it in shock. This was a sensory-linked doll? 3 Before my brain could fully process this revelation. Land sent over a few more photos of his abs. I swallowed hard. “So, when is my baby going to come touch them in person?” This wasn’t the first time he had suggested meeting up in real life. Every previous time, I had fended him off with various excuses. I had no choice. My mom had laid down a strict ban on dating before graduation. If she found out, I would be dead meat. As I sat there brainstorming how to reject him this time, my eyes fell on the cotton doll resting by my hand. Land’s messages kept rolling in. “Please, baby?” “I really want to dfhfgdsh…” His hands were apparently shaking so badly he typed a string of gibberish. My fingertips lightly brushed against the doll as I played dumb. “What’s wrong?” Land seemed incredibly shy. “Um… that was really weird. It suddenly felt really hot.” His attention had successfully been diverted. I couldn’t help but smile wickedly. “If you’re tired, you should rest for a bit.” But my hand didn’t stop moving. A moment later. He sent a voice message. His voice was thick with desire and begging. “Baby, help me, please?” My face instantly burned hot. My grip on the doll tightened. “I really like you.” 4 After resting for a bit, I stepped out of my room to use the bathroom. But right as I reached the bathroom door, I collided with my stepbrother, who had just stepped out of the shower. Water was still dripping from the ends of his hair. As we were about to brush past each other, he suddenly let out a soft scoff. “Chloe, why is your face so red? Don’t tell me you’re secretly dating someone.” My footsteps slammed to a halt, and I glared at him. It was only eleven o’clock at night. My mom wasn’t asleep yet. I glanced nervously toward the master bedroom, then lowered my voice to warn him. “Don’t talk nonsense!” Wearing a plush bathrobe, Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “I was just taking a wild guess. Why are you so defensive?” He suddenly leaned down, closing the distance between us. “Or did I hit the nail on the head?” Adam raised a mocking eyebrow. “I wonder which poor guy has such terrible luck that he’s willing to date someone as vicious as you?” I raised my leg to kick his shin, but he dodged it effortlessly. Furious, I lost my filter. “Mind your own business! He’s a million times better than you anyway!” Hearing this, Adam’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Oh~ So you really are dating someone.” Damn it! I shot him a death glare. “You are not allowed to tell my mom!” Adam’s lips curled upward into a smirk. “Is this how you ask for a favor?” I ground my teeth together, taking a deep breath. “Brother…” “Stop right there.” Adam grimaced and raised a hand. “Don’t call me brother. I can’t stand it.” He gave a dramatic shudder, as if shaking off goosebumps. “How about this. You tell me what kind of gifts girls like, and in exchange, I won’t rat you out.” Adam had a girl he liked? But I certainly wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “Every girl likes different things. But giving cold hard cash is never a mistake.” Adam let out a cold snort. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked a broke college student for advice.” Watching his smug, retreating back, I clenched my fists. What is he so arrogant about? One day, I’m going to find leverage on him too. 5 A week later, it was my birthday. Perhaps he had taken my earlier words to heart, because this time, Land prepared an incredibly extravagant gift. “Baby is turning 21 today, so I prepared twenty-one separate gifts for you! ~” I was completely overwhelmed. But he was, as always, endlessly understanding. “It’s okay. When it’s my birthday, all you have to do is bake me a cake with your own hands.” I sighed softly. What a sweet, heavy burden. To prevent my mom from finding out, I hauled most of the gifts straight to my dorm room. There was only one thing—a custom-designed Switch—that I loved too much to part with, so I snuck it home. The controllers were customized in my favorite pink and white color scheme. And printed on the back casing was a beautiful sycamore tree. Because my internet handle was Sycamore. That was one of the very few personal details my online boyfriend actually knew about me. I rarely ever talked to him about my family situation. I had only mentioned it once. I told him my mom was incredibly strict with me, and since I was a kid, she had never let me touch a video game console. He had taken that passing comment to heart. “This gift is for the 7-year-old baby. Your happy childhood starts today.” But to my horror, my mom discovered it anyway. Facing her interrogation, I had already trained myself to lie without blushing or skipping a beat. “Mom, you’re misunderstanding. This is for our elective course.” But as I stood in the living room, I subconsciously hugged the console tightly to my chest. “You know how it is. We’re computer science majors, after all. We have these… specialized electives. It counts toward my graduation credits!” Hearing the word “credits,” my mom finally backed down. Adam just happened to walk into the living room to pour himself a glass of water. Hearing my excuse, he nearly laughed out loud. I shot him a lethal glare. He barely managed to suppress his smirk. “Is that so? But given your usual academic performance, aren’t you worried you’ll fail this class?” My mom instantly grew anxious again. “Adam, could you maybe tutor her a bit?” Adam’s eyes drifted down to the game console clutched against my chest. Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow and started walking toward me. With lightning reflexes, I shoved the console into my canvas tote bag. But Adam shot his hand out and grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. 6 Standing at six foot two, he looked down at me from above. His eyes scanned over my game console, as if he were searching for a specific detail. “What are you doing?” Adam withdrew his gaze, seeming to let out a breath of relief. He let out a soft scoff. “Next time, remember not to use pink controllers. It makes your hands look dark.” He is completely insane. I stormed back to my room. I took the protective case off, snapped a picture of the console, and sent it to Land. Remembering Adam’s snide comment, I made sure my hands weren’t in the frame. I chatted idly with Land. He sharply picked up on my sour mood. “Is baby unhappy today? You can tell me anything that’s bothering you.” I just told him the older generation was putting pressure on me again. I was very careful not to mention Adam. Because the last time Land mailed me a gift, the return address was located right in our university district. And Adam was way too famous on our campus. He won scholarships like it was a joke. During his junior year, he launched a startup and made an absolute fortune. Practically everyone at school knew his name. Suddenly, my phone chimed loudly with a notification. Land had transferred me $520. The memo read: Voluntary gift. “Baby, you are excellent and independent. You don’t need to take other people’s words to heart.” “Now, can you please cheer up a little?” He sent a picture of the moon that he had just taken himself. “The moonlight is beautiful tonight.” “If baby can see the moon from where you are, then you can see how much I’m thinking about you.” Land was always so incredibly sweet and empathetic. Last time, he had clearly sensed my reluctance to meet in person. So he had never brought it up again. He just repeatedly told me how much he missed me. My heart melted. “Okay.” “Then I’m going to go look at the moon. When I get back, I want to tell you a secret.” I looked at the sensory-linked doll sitting on my nightstand. I leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to its forehead. 7 I never expected Adam’s ghost to haunt me even here. At 1:00 AM, I sneaked out onto the balcony to look at the moon. He was already out there. And the guy who always wore a permanent poker face seemed to be secretly smiling to himself. Something wasn’t right. He was wearing a loose, unbuttoned dress shirt. Under the cold, pale moonlight, something sparkly peaked out from his open collar. Taking advantage of Adam having his back turned, I quickly snapped a photo. That shape… That didn’t look like a normal necklace. I had never seen Adam wear jewelry before. It looked horribly familiar. I zoomed in on the picture. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. Land didn’t know this. But I had handcrafted that body chain myself. I was intimately familiar with every single connecting link. …Why was it him? My chest instantly turned ice cold. Adam turned around and met my eyes, still wearing his usual indifferent expression. Just as we were about to brush past each other. I reached my hand into my pocket and viciously pinched the sensory doll’s thigh. Behind me, I heard Adam stumble loudly. I whipped my head around just in time to see his ridiculous, flailing posture. Caught in such an embarrassing moment, Adam’s ears turned violently red. I simply couldn’t reconcile the gentle, sweet Land from the internet with the arrogant Adam standing in front of me. I stared straight into his eyes, testing the waters. “Don’t mess with me. I have the power of premonition.” Adam found this hilarious. “Really? You’re a pretty good bluffer for a short winter melon.” I looked at him with dead calm. “Stop laughing. You have a very loving girlfriend, don’t you?” Adam looked intrigued and crossed his arms. “Are you preparing to wish us a century of happiness? I’d actually love to hear you say some blessings.” I deliberately let my eyes drag across the chain at his collar. “Don’t tell me she gave you that?” Adam pulled a small section of the chain out to show off. “Of course she did.” I saw the exact knot I had tied with my own hands. I closed my eyes briefly. Then I curled my lips into a smile. “What a pity.” “You’re about to get dumped.”

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After I cheated, I found my soulmate. She never checked my phone, never asked about my finances, and never demanded to know where I was. She was the splash of color my grey, suffocating life desperately needed. On my wife’s side, I kept up appearances. I came home on time, played the doting husband, and kept the machinery of our marriage running smoothly. Until the day I pushed open the door to my secret sanctuary. And found my wife waiting inside. 1 The sharp spark of my lighter caught a dark, rusty smear on the bedsheets. I looked down at the girl sleeping soundly beside me. Slowly, I leaned back against the headboard and inhaled a deep drag of nicotine. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dark room. It was a text from my wife, Fiona: Hey babe, I slipped some hangover pills into your briefcase. Don’t forget to take them. I stood up, walked out onto the balcony, and dialed her number. “Is Toby asleep?” I asked when she picked up. “He just went down,” Fiona replied, her voice soft but tired. “What time does your flight land tomorrow? I can come pick you up from the airport.” I rubbed my tired eyes. “I’ll text you the flight details in a bit. Go get some rest.” After hanging up, I stood on the balcony for a long time, letting the freezing night wind numb my face. When I returned to the bedroom, Gemma was sitting up, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “Are you leaving?” she whispered. I nodded and began pulling on my clothes. My movements were still clumsy and slow from the alcohol. She slipped out of bed, padded over on bare feet, and gently straightened my collar. “I don’t want to get in the way of your family,” she said, looking up at me with wide, earnest eyes. “I won’t ever make things hard for you. Just a little of your time, every now and then, is more than enough to keep me happy.” I ran a hand over her soft hair, said nothing, and left. Later, lying in my own king-sized bed at home, I closed my eyes, but my mind was a chaotic blur of the intoxicating hours I had just spent with her. It had been years since I felt that kind of electric, heart-stopping thrill. I couldn’t even remember how I had crossed that final line. I only remembered the way her eyelashes glistened with tears when she was beneath me. The next morning, after my run, I found Gemma standing right outside my office door. She was wearing a simple white sundress, her face completely bare of makeup, with tiny beads of sweat glistening on the tip of her nose. “Hey, Marcus,” she murmured. “I noticed you didn’t come down for the hotel breakfast, so I brought you some fresh pastries and hot coffee.” I stared at her for two seconds. Then I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into my room. Honestly, for a man in my position, having a mistress is practically par for the course. As long as you know how to balance the scales, it never causes any real trouble. If anything, the thrill of this stolen happiness made me more patient with my family. I viewed it as a healthy tax on my guilt, a trade-off that actually made me a better husband. When our flight landed back home, Gemma slipped into the airport restroom, deliberately staying out of sight to avoid any awkward encounters. Fiona practically flew toward me at the arrivals gate, wrapping her arms tight around my waist and burying her face in the crook of my neck. I glanced over her shoulder. Through the crowded terminal, I saw Gemma standing in the shadows. Her eyes were red, but she gave me a brave, bittersweet wave. My heart twisted with a sudden, unexpected ache. At dinner that night, Fiona talked endlessly about her day, the company, and our son. My phone screen lit up repeatedly on the table, but there were no messages from Gemma. “Marcus?” I blinked and looked up. Fiona was staring at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I’ve called your name three times. What are you staring at?” “Just thinking about a project at the firm,” I lied, shoving a forkful of food into my mouth. “What were you saying?” “Toby has that soccer tournament in Europe coming up,” she said, her excitement returning. “It’s about ten days. Why don’t you take some PTO? We haven’t taken a family trip in forever.” “I can’t. The new project is in a critical phase right now. You guys go ahead without me.” Fiona’s smile faded into a disappointed nod. “Okay. Next time, then.” That night, when she crawled into bed and tried to spoon me, I instinctively shifted toward the edge of the mattress. “I’m exhausted, babe. Let’s just sleep.” Fiona’s arm froze against my waist. Slowly, awkwardly, she pulled it back. After all these years of marriage, intimacy with Fiona had become a chore, a repetitive script we both read from. It was entirely devoid of passion. But Gemma was different. She made everything feel dangerously alive again. I closed my eyes, and my mind was immediately flooded with Gemma’s vibrant, laughing face. The moment my wife and son left for Europe, I packed a bag and moved straight into Gemma’s apartment. We worked together by day and dissolved into each other by night. As the warm summer breeze swept through the open windows and the city lights flickered in the distance, I felt a sensation I hadn’t felt in a decade. I felt alive. Gemma couldn’t cook, and she hated cleaning, but I didn’t care. I hired a maid to come three times a week, pre-paid a tab at the bistro downstairs, and set up a delivery service with the local dry cleaners. The tedious, grinding realities of daily life were easily solved with a little bit of money. At drinks, my buddies would always lecture me. “You need a woman who knows how to run a household,” they’d say. I always laughed it off. Fiona was there to run the household. Gemma’s job was simply to be my escape. One night, a close friend clinked his glass against mine and warned me quietly, “Careful, man. You’re playing with fire.” I just smiled and shook my head. Not everyone is lucky enough to find a perfect muse. Only much later did I realize the most tragic truth of life: the worst thing isn’t making the wrong choice. It is when everyone around you watches you make that choice, and no one can do a single thing to stop you. 2 The night before Fiona and Toby were scheduled to return, Gemma and I lost track of time playing video games. We ended up staying up until dawn, which meant we completely slept through their arrival. Because of my negligence, my wife and son were left stranded at the airport for over two hours. When I finally bolted awake, my phone was buzzing with thirty-two missed calls. I sat up so fast my head spun. Gemma rubbed her sleepy eyes, yawning. “What’s wrong?” “I missed their flight,” I panicked, throwing the blankets off. She sat up, her brow furrowing in irritation. “Ubers are everywhere. Why do you have to play chauffeur anyway? You work so hard. Why can’t she just let you sleep?” I didn’t stay to listen to the rest. I ran out to the balcony and dialed Fiona’s number. “I am so sorry, Fiona. The client dinner went incredibly late last night, and I slept right through my alarm.” The line was dead silent for several seconds. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “We’re taking the train home. Toby bought a souvenir for you. He’s been carrying it in his backpack the whole way.” “Okay. I’ll see you at home.” When I hung up, Gemma was leaning against the bedroom doorframe, watching me. “So… you won’t be coming back here for a while, will you?” Her eyes welled with tears, though she forced a brave, fragile smile. I grabbed my coat and gently patted her head. “I have to go.” After a quick lunch with her to soften the blow, I sped back to our suburban home. On the way, I bought a massive bouquet of flowers for Fiona and a massive Lego set for Toby. Yet, an icy knot of anxiety was tightening in my chest. Something felt terribly wrong. The moment I inserted my key into the front door, I heard muffled sobbing from inside. My heart hammered against my ribs. I threw the door open. “What happened?” Toby was sitting on the hardwood floor, his face completely drenched in tears. He looked up at me with red, swollen eyes. “Dad,” he choked out. “Have you really not been home once since we left?” The air was violently sucked from my lungs. I had completely forgotten about our golden retriever, Buster. Fiona was kneeling next to our son, her shoulders shaking violently. On the kitchen island lay an unopened bag of dog food. Before she left, Fiona had taken the dog food out of the pantry and explicitly told me to feed him. I had given her a distracted nod, walked out the door, and never thought about the dog again. I slowly dropped to my knees. “I’m so sorry, buddy. I’ll buy you another puppy. The exact same breed, okay?” Fiona snapped. She looked at me with a gaze so cold it cut to the bone. “Marcus, that dog was with him for six years. Do you honestly think you can just replace him with a trip to a pet store?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I just… I forgot.” Fiona didn’t argue. She walked over to the mudroom, grabbed a spade, and walked back to our son. “Come on, Toby,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Let’s go bury Buster.” Watching their retreating figures, I felt a suffocating pressure chest. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked away the hours. I sat in the silent house, staring at the wall, until I finally mustered the courage to call Fiona. “Hey, when are you guys coming back?” “Soon,” she replied. “Actually, I have a question for you.” “What is it?” “Where have you been sleeping this past week?” My grip on the phone tightened. “The guys and I were watching the playoffs. I stayed over at Dave’s place.” “Which Dave?” “Dave and the guys from the office.” Silence stretched over the line. “Are you sure about that?” “Yes, I’m sure.” My breathing was shallow and fast. In this world, as long as you deny everything and never back down, they can never prove a thing. “Okay,” she said, and hung up. I sat on the sofa, letting the phone screen go dark, then unlocking it, over and over again. Another forty minutes crawled by. My phone vibrated. I snatched it up, expecting Fiona, but the screen read Gemma. I frowned and swiped to decline. A text immediately popped up: Your wife is here. I scrambled off the sofa, my heart leaping into my throat. What did you just say? 3 She’s standing right outside my apartment door, Gemma’s text read. I don’t know how she found this place… Marcus, you need to get over here right now. What did you tell her? I typed back, my fingers shaking. Nothing! I haven’t opened the door. She’s just standing there, telling me to call you. My brain was screaming. Don’t admit to anything! Keep your mouth shut. I’m on my way! I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door. In the elevator, the polished metal walls reflected a face that was pale and slick with cold sweat. But when I reached the parking garage, I froze. My parking spot was empty. Fiona had taken the spare key when she left. The onboard GPS in our SUV had Gemma’s address saved in the recent destinations. Fiona didn’t even have to search for it; she just had to press start. I leaned against the concrete pillar, slowly sliding down to the dirty floor. She had boxed me in. She had cut off every single escape route. For the first time in my life, I felt absolute, paralyzing terror. My phone lit up again. How far away are you? I wiped the sweat from my forehead, shoved the phone into my pocket, and ran out to the street to hail a cab. When I arrived at Gemma’s building, I saw our family car parked right in front of the entrance. In the back seat, Toby was curled up, fast asleep, covered by Fiona’s trench coat. I didn’t wake him. I turned and ran up the stairs. The apartment door opened, and Gemma stood there, her face frantic. “What took you so long?” I pushed past her and scanned the living room. Everything looked shockingly normal. There was no signs of a struggle, no broken glass, no screaming. Fiona was sitting quietly on the velvet sofa. She looked up and gestured to the empty chair opposite her. “Have a seat, Marcus.” I tried to keep my voice steady, desperate to de-escalate the situation. “Fiona, Toby is asleep in the car.” “I know,” she said quietly. “These aren’t things a child needs to hear. Marcus, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” I closed my eyes, a wave of irritation washing over my panic. I hated being put on the defensive like this. Cheating wasn’t a capital crime. I wasn’t like those deadbeat dads who abandoned their families. I still cared about my home. I still cared about her. “Fiona, stop this,” I muttered. “Don’t make a scene.” She didn’t look at me. Instead, she turned her cold gaze toward Gemma. “I’m not going to waste my time talking to you about morals or integrity today. I doubt your parents ever bothered to teach you those concepts anyway.” “That’s enough!” I barked, stepping between them. “Look at yourself. Don’t you think you’re acting incredibly pathetic right now?” “Pathetic?” Fiona finally met my eyes. “You think my reaction is pathetic? You’re the one sleeping around, Marcus. If anyone is pathetic here, it’s you.” Before I could reply, Gemma reached out and gently tugged on my sleeve. “Marcus, please don’t fight with her because of me… It’s all my fault. I don’t want to be the reason your marriage falls apart.” Seeing Gemma’s tear-filled eyes, a protective anger flared in my chest. “Fiona, what the hell do you actually want?” “Good question.” Fiona reached into her designer bag, pulled out a thick manila folder, and slid it across the coffee table. “A powerful corporate executive like you shouldn’t have to sneak around. I’m going to make things easy for you both. I’m giving your little mistress a promotion to full-time wife.” I looked down at the documents. They were divorce papers. My chest tightened painfully. “Fiona, it’s late. Let’s go home and discuss this like adults.” She ignored me. She pulled a pen from her purse and handed it directly to Gemma. “As women, I think we understand each other. You can have the man. But you can’t have the money. Marcus committed a major marital fault. I am taking seventy percent of our joint assets.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “You can either sign these papers right now, and we settle this quietly. Or, I will hire a forensic accountant to audit every single dollar he has spent on you. And when the court rules in my favor, I will print the judgment and pin it to the bulletin board at his corporate headquarters. You choose.” The room fell dead silent. I closed my eyes, a sharp, throbbing pain blooming behind my temples. “So, this is who you really are,” I sneered. 4 Fiona looked at me, her expression entirely empty of emotion. “Yes. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” I let out a harsh laugh. “You want to know the difference between you and Gemma? Gemma would never use money or a divorce to blackmail me. Your greed is showing, Fiona. It’s ugly.” She didn’t flinch. She simply tilted her head back and let out a soft, dry laugh. “Thank you for the compliment.” The moment Fiona walked out the door, Gemma threw her arms around my neck, holding the signed divorce agreement. Her voice was breathless with excitement. “It’s perfect! You’re finally free. Now you belong entirely to me.” I kissed her forehead, but my eyes wandered to the window. Under the harsh glow of the streetlamp below, Fiona opened the car door, leaning in to adjust the coat over our sleeping son. I watched her car pull away, its taillights bleeding into the darkness, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away until the street was empty. “Marcus?” Gemma gently kissed my jaw. “You’re free now. No one can ever dictate your life again.” She was right. I was free. In thirty days, the divorce would be finalized, and we would be strangers. But for some reason, there was a hollow, echoing ache in my chest. Perhaps I had been suffocated by routine for so long that this sudden, absolute freedom felt terrifying. That night, Gemma tried every trick, every touch, and every position she knew, but my body refused to respond. I gently pushed her away, tracing her cheekbone. “Let’s just sleep, babe. I’m really tired.” Every Wednesday was boys’ night. When I pushed open the door to our usual private dining room, the entire table went silent. “Everyone, this is Gemma,” I announced, pulling out a chair for her. “My girlfriend.” The silence stretched for a painful five seconds. Dave laid his fork down slowly. “Are you serious, Marcus?” “Yeah. The divorce papers are already signed.” Ben let out a forced, awkward chuckle. “Well… congrats on the fresh start, man.” They clinked their glasses together, offering weak, superficial congratulations. But one person didn’t move. My college roommate, Nathan. He leaned back in his chair, his cold, calculating eyes slowly sweeping over Gemma. I nudged his shoulder. “What, nothing to say?” He shook his head, looking disgusted. “I don’t have anything nice to say, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Gemma raised her glass, looking at Nathan with a fragile, timid expression. “Nice to meet you, Nathan. I hope we can be friends.” Nathan let out a sharp, mocking snort. “I’m driving, so no alcohol for me. Got any green tea? I hear it’s your favorite flavor.” Gemma’s hand froze mid-air, her eyes instantly filling with tears. Ben frowned, trying to keep the peace. “Come on, Nathan. What’s your problem? Why are you taking it out on her?” “No problem at all,” Nathan said, sliding his chair back. He grabbed his leather jacket from the rack. “Next time we plan a dinner, let me know in advance. If we’re going to start inviting strangers, don’t bother calling me.” The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the room suffocatingly quiet. Ben tried to laugh it off. “Don’t mind him. He’s been single for too long. His social skills are practically nonexistent.” Under the table, I squeezed Gemma’s trembling hand. It was fine. It would just take some time for my friends to accept her. Over the next few weeks, my mind was a chaotic mess. My performance at work began to slip, so I decided to take a sudden vacation. I booked a trip to a beach resort for Gemma and me. Staring out at the endless blue horizon, the weight on my shoulders seemed to lift. We slipped back into our hedonistic rhythm. We made love in every corner of the hotel suite, from dawn until dusk, bathed in sunlight and the scent of sea salt. This was the life I had wanted. One evening, while we were walking through a local street market, I spotted a small golden retriever puppy in a pet stall. It looked exactly like Buster. Gemma knelt down to scratch the puppy behind its ears, looking up at me with a sweet smile. “Marcus, look how cute he is. Why don’t we buy him? It can be a peace offering for Toby.” I smiled and stroked her hair. “That’s a great idea.” I immediately dialed my son’s smart-watch. When Toby answered, I explained the surprise, but the line went quiet. “Thanks, Dad,” Toby said softly. “But I already have a new dog.” “Oh? Did your mom buy you one?” “No. Uncle Nathan bought him for me.” “Which Uncle Nathan?” I demanded, my grip on the phone tightening. Before Toby could answer, a deep male voice echoed in the background. “Toby, wash your hands. Dinner is ready.” 5 The voice was muffled, but I recognized it instantly. It was Nathan. “I gotta go, Dad. Dinner is ready,” Toby said, and the line went dead. My chest felt incredibly tight, as if a heavy stone was crushing my ribs. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Gemma noticed my pale face. “Marcus, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “I… I can’t catch my breath,” I wheezed, clutching my chest. “Help me sit down.” She guided me to a nearby bench, wrapping her arm around me. “You don’t have a fever. Maybe you got too much sun? Let’s go back to the hotel.” I closed my eyes, but those words kept playing on a loop in my head. Uncle Nathan bought him for me. Toby, wash your hands. Dinner is ready. Nathan was my brother. We had known each other for twelve years. But friends don’t belong in another man’s kitchen. They don’t call another man’s son to dinner with that level of casual intimacy. That was my place. Not his. I snapped my eyes open, pulled out my phone, and opened my chat with Nathan. Where the hell are you? I stared at the screen, watching the little typing bubble appear and disappear. My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited. Finally, a text popped up: Fiona’s place. My fingers trembled violently as I typed: That is MY house! Ten seconds passed. Calm down, Marcus. Don’t let your little side piece catch you sweating. “Fuck!” I kicked the metal trash can next to the bench. The metal dented with a loud, hollow clang, sending a sharp, shooting pain up my foot. But the physical pain didn’t do anything to numb the white-hot rage consuming me. I dialed Fiona’s number. The number you have dialed is currently unavailable… She had blocked me. I opened our chat on social media. A small, mocking red exclamation mark sat next to my sent message. The tropical sky suddenly looked gray. The ocean looked dirty. Back in the hotel room, even when I held Gemma in my arms, my mind kept drifting back to the day we signed the papers, to the sight of Fiona bending down to put her coat over our son. Fiona and I didn’t love each other anymore. We hadn’t for years. So why was my chest aching like this? My phone buzzed again. It was a message from my mother. Marcus? Is Fiona’s phone broken? I sent her a text and it says it couldn’t be delivered. Tomorrow is Toby’s birthday, right? I wanted to know what time you guys would be arriving. I sat up so fast my back popped. His birthday? Tomorrow? Yes, of course, she replied. Your father and I have decorated the house. We want to give him a big surprise. I stared at the calendar on my phone screen. Tomorrow was indeed Toby’s birthday. I had completely, utterly forgotten it. “Marcus?” Gemma’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind. “Why are you so distracted today?” “It’s nothing,” I muttered. I typed a quick message to my mother: Mom, I’m so sorry, but something urgent came up at the firm. I don’t think I can make it back in time. I’ll make it up to him when I get back, okay? My mother’s reply was casual: Oh, don’t worry about it. Work comes first. I’ll figure something out. I assumed that was the end of it, but the next morning, my phone rang. It was my mother again. “Marcus, you need to make sure you thank Nathan. He was an absolute lifesaver today.” I froze. “What?” “Oh, you have no idea! I called Toby yesterday, and he told me Uncle Nathan was planning a birthday dinner for him. I figured, why not do it together? So I asked Nathan to bring him over. He even brought us a gorgeous prime rib. He is such a polite young man…” A sharp, high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears.

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1 My little sister playing with fireworks permanently deafened my right ear. During the final auditions for the conservatory, I couldn’t hear the piano accompaniment. My performance was flagged as a fail. I missed out on the university I had spent three years bleeding for, all because of one missing piece of paper. After the accident, Mom and Dad shipped my sister off to Europe. My older brother blocked her on every social media platform. Even Silas, the boy I grew up with, swore he would never look at her again. For years, I genuinely believed they were hurting for me. Until seven years later, when my sister finally graduated and flew back stateside. Mom tossed a set of car keys onto my lap. “Go pick up your sister.” I stared at the glowing notification on my phone screen. It was the schedule for my senior thesis defense. “I can’t,” I said. “My defense is this afternoon.” The living room went dead silent. Mom’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. “It has been seven years!” she snapped, her voice trembling. “She spent seven years sick in a foreign country, blowing out birthday candles by herself. She didn’t even dare come back for your grandmother’s funeral. Why won’t you just let her off the hook?” Dad set his coffee mug down hard on the coaster, his face dark. “She made a mistake back then, yes. But didn’t you end up going to college anyway? You’re about to graduate. So you lost hearing in one ear. You still have your thesis, your whole future ahead of you. What about her? She was locked out of her own home for seven years.” My brother stood in the doorway, staring at me with ice in his eyes. “You just missed out on one fancy music school. What she lost was her entire family.” Even Silas, who had been sitting in heavy silence, finally spoke up. “And me. For seven years, I didn’t see her, didn’t comfort her, didn’t spend a single holiday with her. I already promised to propose to you after graduation. Why can’t you just leave a door open for her to come home? Do you really need her to die out there alone before you’re satisfied?” My world had been missing half its sound for a long time. But in that exact moment, the remaining half went completely, terrifyingly quiet. Later that day, I logged into the university portal and changed my post-grad job placement to a city on the opposite coast. Three thousand miles away. From now on, the golden child they prayed for, and the guilt they faked for seven years, had absolutely nothing to do with me. 2 The morning Lily flew back, Mom knocked on my bedroom door at the crack of dawn and dropped a brass key on my desk. “Violet, clear out the south-facing room on the second floor. Your sister always loved the natural light.” I looked up at her. That room used to be my music studio. Seven years ago, after the fireworks destroyed my right ear, the grand piano, the ballet barre, and the sheet music stands were all shrouded in heavy dust covers. Mom had held me tight back then, crying into my hair. She told me not to look at it, that looking at it would only break my heart. I believed her. I thought they locked that room to protect me from the trauma. But today, the housekeeper yanked off the covers, and sunlight spilled over the polished mahogany of the piano lid. Mom personally directed the maids to wipe away every speck of dust. She swapped the decor for Lily’s favorite white roses, plugged in a lily-of-the-valley diffuser, and even changed the drapes to a soft, pastel pink. I stood in the doorway, looking at the gleaming keys, and suddenly felt a hysterical urge to laugh. It wasn’t that the piano couldn’t be touched. It just couldn’t be touched by me. Downstairs, Dad was stringing up a massive banner in the foyer. Welcome Home, Lily in glittering gold letters. My brother, Daran, had put on a sharp tailored suit hours ago, insisting he had to greet her right at the arrivals gate. Silas had originally promised to sit in the front row for my thesis defense. But right before he walked out the door, my phone buzzed. [Lily just landed. She’s really overwhelmed. I’m riding to the airport with your parents to calm her down.] I stared at the text bubble for a long time. Finally, I typed back a single letter. [K.] I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask questions. Because I knew fighting for it wouldn’t change a damn thing. I went back to my room to print my thesis materials. The printer was linked to the family’s shared cloud drive. When I opened the interface, a folder popped up on the screen. It was named: Lily – Europe Archives. I meant to close it. But my cursor hovered over the icon for a long time before I double-clicked. Inside was not the tragic, isolated exile Mom had painted. There was no evidence of a girl suffering alone for seven years. Instead, it was an avalanche of photos and videos. Massive birthday bashes. Graduation trips to Santorini. Skiing in the Swiss Alps. Ticket stubs for Broadway shows in London. A bedroom wall overflowing with designer gifts. Every single year was vibrant, loud, and incredibly crowded. Mom mailed her hand-knit scarves every winter. Dad wrote lengthy, emotional birthday cards. Daran’s passport stamps perfectly matched the dates of her winter and summer breaks. I clicked on a video from her eighteenth birthday. On the screen, Daran was laughing as he adjusted a party hat on Lily’s head. Mom was crying through the FaceTime call, saying, “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. It’s not that we don’t want you. We just can’t bring you home quite yet.” Lily rubbed her reddened eyes. “Is Violet still mad at me?” Dad sighed heavily into the microphone. “She’s still young, she’s holding onto a grudge. Just give it time. Once she stops hurting so much, we’ll bring you back where you belong.” I sat frozen in my desk chair. The blood slowly drained from my fingertips and toes. So, for seven years, they hadn’t cut her off. They hadn’t coldly punished her for ruining my life. They were just waiting for me to stop bleeding. Waiting for me to look a little less pathetic, so they could drag her back into the sunlight. My mind drifted back to the night I was admitted to the hospital seven years ago. The specialist told them the nerve damage in my right ear was severe. He said someone needed to stay in the room to monitor me. But the only person sitting in the dark with me was a hired nurse. Mom said she had been crying all day, that she was simply too exhausted and needed her own bed. Dad said he had a crisis at the firm. Daran claimed he had a mandatory frat event and promised to drop by the next morning. Silas told me there was an emergency at his startup, kissed my forehead, and told me to be a good girl. That night, I lay alone on the stiff hospital mattress. My right ear felt like it was packed with concrete. The entire world was split cleanly in half. One side was a chaotic buzz. The other was the silence of a grave. I was in too much agony to sleep. I kept swiping my phone screen, waiting for a single text from any of them. Nothing. Now I knew why. That was the exact night they were all on a group video call, watching Lily blow out her birthday candles. At the very bottom of the folder was a group photo. It was taken backstage after Lily’s first piano recital in Paris. She was wearing a stunning white gown, cradling a massive bouquet of lilies. Silas stood right beside her, holding her wool coat over his arm. The caption read: Lily’s first time back on stage! Silas says she’s the bravest girl he knows. I stared at that sentence until my vision blurred. Seven years ago, Silas sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand so tight it hurt. He swore to me he would never see her again. He told me he would stay by my side and help me navigate a world with only half its sound. I believed him. I believed him because he was the only person who never treated me like I was broken. But he hadn’t cut her out. He just got better at hiding her from me. 3 During my thesis defense that afternoon, one of the professors asked a question from my blind side. It took me a full beat to process the muffled sound and turn my head. Someone in the back of the auditorium let out a soft, mocking laugh. I steadied my breathing and delivered a flawless answer. But my chest felt like it was trapped in a vise, squeezing the air out of my lungs. The second I walked out of the hall, my phone lit up with a notification from the family group chat. It was a picture. Mom, Dad, Daran, and Silas were all huddled around Lily. The background was a sea of fresh white roses. Lily was sitting on the bench of my piano, tears shining in her eyes. Mom had added a caption. Seven years. We finally brought our baby girl home. Looking at that photo, the final puzzle piece clicked into place. They never punished Lily for seven years. They just hid her away, and loved her in secret. Instead of going home, I hailed a cab to the hospital where I was treated seven years ago. I only went to request an official copy of my hearing impairment certificate for my new employer. But when the aging specialist recognized me, the very first thing he asked was, “Why didn’t you ever come back for the second phase of the nerve reconstruction?” I froze. “What reconstruction?” The doctor frowned deeply, clicking through his ancient desktop to pull up my file. Lines of text populated the screen. Right auditory nerve not fully necrotic. Surgery within a three-month window yields a 70% chance of full recovery. Surgical fee: $65,000. Paid in full. The payer was my father. The emergency contact listed was Silas. I stared at the yellowed receipt. My heart gave a violent, agonizing spasm. They were that close to saving me. But the very next page was a formal cancellation request. The date of cancellation was the exact day before Lily flew to Europe. The reasoning written on the form hit me like a physical blow. Family experiencing financial strain due to younger daughter’s overseas conservatory tuition and the purchase of a new grand piano. Surgery suspended indefinitely. The doctor let out a heavy sigh. “I pleaded with your mother back then. I told her the window for nerve repair closes fast. Once you miss it, the damage is permanent. But she kept crying, saying your sister’s mental health was fragile, that she had to be sent to Europe immediately for a change of scenery. She said they needed to buy her a custom piano so she could heal.” My fingers turned ice-cold as I gripped the photocopies. “Your mother was sobbing on the phone,” the doctor added softly. “She said, Violet is already deaf in one ear. But if Lily loses her courage to play the piano, her whole life is ruined.” A dry, hollow laugh scraped its way out of my throat. It wasn’t that my ear was beyond saving. It was that they personally pulled my name off the surgery schedule. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford the sixty-five grand. It was that they decided my chance to hear the world again was worth less than Lily’s new piano. When I finally walked through the front door, Lily was sitting on the living room rug, tearing into wrapping paper. She was wearing a soft cream dress, her cheeks flushed with color. When she looked up, she put on that same timid, innocent expression she always used. “Violet. You’re home.” Mom had bought her a brand-new upright piano, calling it her official welcome-home gift. Dad chuckled warmly. “You haven’t touched a keyboard in this house for seven years. You can play whenever you want now, sweetheart.” Daran reached down and ruffled her hair. “You worked so hard picking it back up in Paris. You deserve to play in your own house.” Silas was standing by the piano, carefully adjusting the height of the leather bench so it was perfect for her. My memory flashed to him sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. Violet, from now on, I’ll be your right ear. Looking at him now, I realized the truth. He agreed with them. My chance to hear was just collateral damage in the mission to get Lily back on stage. I walked over and dropped the hospital photocopies right on top of the pristine piano keys. The papers were paper-thin, but the sound of them hitting the wood felt like a gunshot in the room. The laughter died instantly. Mom’s face paled. “Why were you digging around at the hospital?” I looked dead into her eyes. “So I could have been cured seven years ago. Is that right?” Lily’s eyes immediately swam with tears, and she jumped up. “Violet, if you think I stole your surgery money, I swear I’ll never touch a piano again!” Mom rushed forward and pulled Lily into a fierce hug. “It is not your fault! That was our decision as parents!” Dad’s face darkened with rage. He snapped his fingers at a maid to take the papers away. “Get this depressing garbage off Lily’s new piano.” I looked at the glossy black instrument and felt a wave of pure exhaustion. Seven years ago, I lost half my hearing. She lost her nerve to play. But they chose to save her nerve. And they chose to bury my life. 4 The welcome dinner was held in the formal dining room. Mom claimed Lily was too jet-lagged for a loud restaurant. But the massive oak table was groaning under the weight of Lily’s favorite dishes. Garlic butter shrimp, crab bisque, mango tart, lobster risotto, and a cold noodle salad generously topped with crushed peanuts. I was severely allergic to shellfish, mangoes, and peanuts. Seven years ago, the specialist explicitly warned them that severe allergic reactions would trigger massive vertigo and worsen my tinnitus. Yet Mom was entirely focused on peeling shrimp for Lily. Dad slid the only safe dish, a simple chicken broth, right in front of Lily. Daran reached over and took the plate of plain roasted vegetables away from my side of the table. “Lily just got off a long flight. Let her have the easy stuff first.” I was seated at the very end of the table, closest to the swinging kitchen doors. My bad ear was facing the room. My good ear was facing a blasting Bluetooth speaker. I didn’t even have a clean plate or silverware in front of me. Silas finally noticed. He opened his mouth to ask the maid for a setting, but Lily suddenly sniffled, her eyes going red. “Is Violet still punishing me?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is that why she refuses to eat with us?” Silas’s hand froze in mid-air. Eventually, he just slid his own water glass toward me. “Just drink some water for now.” I stared at the condensation rolling down the glass. I didn’t touch it. Halfway through the meal, Lily pulled a battered cardboard box from under her chair and pushed it toward me like it was a sacred offering. “Violet, I know it’s late, but this is to make up for what I did.” Inside was a single, beat-up headphone. The paint was chipping, the wire casing was split open, and the jack was held together by yellowing scotch tape. Mom’s eyes immediately filled with proud tears. “It’s the thought that counts, sweetheart. That’s so sweet of you.” Dad nodded approvingly. “She just got back. She doesn’t have much money to her name. The fact that she thought of you is what matters.” Daran chimed in, “Who cares what it costs? She’s swallowing her pride to apologize.” Silas leaned in and muttered near my shoulder, “Just take it, Violet. Don’t humiliate her in front of everyone.” Before I could even form a response, my phone buzzed violently against the wood. It was an automated alert from my bank. The savings account I had been desperately building for a future ear specialist consultation had just been drained of nine hundred bucks. The merchant listed was the exact vintage audio store down the street. I slowly lifted my head and locked eyes with Lily. “You used my credit card to buy a piece of garbage from a thrift store, and you’re calling it an apology?” All the color drained from Lily’s face. The tears spilled over instantly. “Violet, I swear I didn’t know that was your card! I just wanted to make things right!” For the first time in seven years, my control snapped. “You blew out my eardrum. You stole my surgery fund. And now you can’t even afford your own fake apology without stealing my money?” The dining room plunged into a suffocating silence. Lily grabbed her chest, gasping for air like she was having a panic attack, tears streaming down her face. Dad stood up and slapped me hard across the face. The crack echoed off the high ceilings. “Violet!” he roared. “Do you absolutely have to drive her to suicide on her first day back?” My head snapped to the side. A piercing, high-pitched whine exploded in my deaf ear, drowning out the room. Mom was already wrapping her arms around a sobbing Lily, crying right along with her. Daran stepped in front of Lily like a human shield, glaring at me with absolute disgust. Silas frowned deeply. “Violet, back off. Stop pushing her.” Lily, still weeping, reached over and twisted the dial on a vintage music box she had placed on the table. “I’ll play a song Violet used to love when we were kids,” she choked out. “Just please, everyone stop fighting.” The next second, the tinkling mechanical notes filled the room. It wasn’t a childhood lullaby. It was the exact piano accompaniment from my conservatory audition seven years ago. The piece I had practiced until my fingers bled for three years. The piece I had never been able to listen to again. As the sharp, metallic high notes hit the air, my good ear exploded in a symphony of horrific static. My vision went completely black. My balance vanished. I collapsed backward, crashing violently into the glass liquor cabinet. Glass shattered everywhere. Shards sliced deep into my palms. Blood immediately began trickling down the side of my neck, right behind my bad ear. Silas instinctively took a step toward me. But Lily let out a bloodcurdling scream. “My hand! It hurts so much!” Silas froze mid-step. He turned his back on me and rushed to pull Lily into his chest. I sat in a pile of jagged glass. The ringing in my head was so violent I thought my skull was going to crack open. Warm blood dripped down my wrists and soaked the collar of my shirt. Lily had a single, shallow scratch on the back of her hand. But she was wailing, screaming that her fingers were going numb and that she would never be able to play the piano again. When the family’s private doctor rushed through the door, he took one look at the blood pooling around my ear and his face lost all color. “She needs to go to the ER immediately,” he barked. “She’s bleeding near the old trauma site. We can’t wait.” He glanced over at Lily. “The younger Miss has a superficial laceration. It needs cleaning, but it’s not critical. Who’s going in the car first?” Mom didn’t even hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Take Lily first. She just got home. She cannot handle any more trauma today.” Dad’s voice was like iron. “Violet’s issue is chronic. If Lily’s hand scars, it ruins her career.” Daran kept Lily tucked safely behind him. “Violet threw this massive tantrum. It’s time she learned to step back.” I looked up at them through the blur of pain and realized how terrifyingly familiar this was. Seven years ago, when the fireworks went off, I was screaming on the grass, clutching my bleeding head. Lily was crying that she didn’t mean it. And they all crowded around her, telling me to stop screaming so I wouldn’t scare my sister. Silas finally noticed the blood soaking into my shirt. He went pale. He started to take a step toward me, but Lily grabbed fistfuls of his jacket sleeve. “Silas, please, it hurts so bad.” Silas stopped in his tracks. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Finally, he looked at the doctor. “We’re taking Lily first.” He turned back to look at me, surrounded by broken glass.

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1 Valentine’s Day Eve, I asked my boss—and fiancé—Simon for PTO to get our marriage license. He rejected it before the whole team and approved his new assistant Daisy’s lengthy vacation instead. She booked St. Barts ages ago, he said, tossing my form aside. Cover her shifts. I’ll be there on business anyway, keep an eye on her. The license? Push it back. A few days won’t kill you. The office went silent. Daisy looped her arm through his, cooing her thanks. When we return, I’ll bring you duty-free souvenirs. Watching them play the perfect couple, I didn’t swallow my pride this time. Simon didn’t know our wedding date was a hard deadline. If I wasn’t married by Memorial Day, I’d lose my bet with Grandfather and face his arranged marriage roulette. I unclipped my badge, dropped it in the trash, and signed a resignation form in one stroke. Then I called Manhattan’s wealthiest patriarch. Grandpa? I yield. I’ll take that arranged marriage. … “Fine,” I said out loud, hanging up the phone. “I won’t take the time off. I quit.” The moment those words left my mouth, the breathing in the office seemed to stop entirely. Simon’s expression froze for a fraction of a second before he let out a scoff. “Audrey, what kind of tantrum is this?” “Are you trying to use your job to blackmail me into marrying you right this second? Can you please act like an adult?” He casually snatched the resignation form off my desk and tossed it into the trash without a second glance. “Daisy finally has a chance to go out and relax. As her senior, what is so wrong with taking on a little extra work to help her out?” Daisy immediately forced tears into her eyes, shrinking timidly behind his broad shoulders. “Are you really mad at me, Audrey? Maybe I should just cancel my flight. I don’t want to ruin your relationship over a silly trip.” “You are not canceling anything,” Simon snapped, pulling her securely behind him. “I already booked the flights and the resort.” He glared at me with absolute frost in his eyes. “I’ve spoiled you too much. That is why you have zero concept of the bigger picture.” I just stood there and looked at him in total silence. Eight years. I had stood by his side from the moment he had absolutely nothing, carrying him through the darkest days of his startup. I pitched to investors, wrote business proposals, and dragged in clients. During our hardest month, I survived on three hours of sleep a night for two straight weeks. And now, he was pouring all his affection and privilege onto another woman. I gave a slow nod, pulled a fresh resignation form from my drawer, signed it, and placed it on his desk. “This isn’t a threat. I am actually done.” Simon’s face darkened instantly. My calm demeanor seemed to infuriate him. He snatched the massive project proposal I had just finished off my desk and shoved it right into Daisy’s arms. “Fine. Since you want to throw a fit, Daisy will be taking over this project from now on.” Daisy feigned panic. “Mr. CEO, I really shouldn’t! Audrey pulled all-nighters to write this.” “Take it,” Simon commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I run this company. If I say you are ready, you are ready.” He shot a venomous look in my direction. “If certain people don’t want to work, their resources will naturally go to someone who actually brings value to this firm.” The office was dead silent. Even Sarah, the HR manager who never made waves, couldn’t sit still anymore. She stood up abruptly. “Simon, that isn’t fair. Audrey built this project from the ground up. Daisy has only been here for three days.” “Sarah.” Simon cut her off with a lethal glare. “Are you questioning my executive decisions?” “This company is preparing to go public. I need people who are hungry and ready to fight, not someone whose brain is entirely consumed by wedding bells and marriage certificates.” Sarah’s face went completely pale. I didn’t even look at him anymore. I pulled a cardboard box from under my desk and began packing my personal belongings one by one. Eight years of my prime, finally shoved into a single cardboard box. It was so light it was almost laughable. I turned and walked toward the exit. As I brushed past him, Simon suddenly reached out and clamped his hand around my wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but it carried a faint, frantic energy that even he didn’t seem to realize. “Audrey.” “If you want to throw a tantrum, I can give you the time.” He stared down at me, still using that arrogant, patronizing tone. “One week.” “When I get back from St. Barts, you will swallow your attitude and come back to work like a professional.” He paused, then added a final sentence like he was granting me a royal pardon. “When that happens, I will consider taking you to City Hall for that license.” I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist and suddenly let out a soft laugh. “Simon.” “You have lost the right to marry me.” I pulled my arm free and turned to leave. Sarah grabbed my sleeve, her eyes red. “Audrey, are you really just walking away? Aren’t you just letting them win?” Before I could comfort her, a sickeningly sweet voice floated over from behind. “Sarah, what do you mean letting us win?” I glanced back. Daisy was strutting over in her designer heels, unable to hide the smug triumph in her voice. “Audrey is so obsessed with locking down a husband that she completely abandoned the company’s future. Our CEO hates women who can’t see the big picture. If Audrey ruins her own winning hand, she has no one to blame but herself.” Sarah’s face turned thunderous. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to march over. “Who are you calling blind to the big picture?” I reached out and stopped her. “Let it go.” A second later, the doors to the private executive elevator chimed open. “Daisy, the car is waiting outside. Let’s go,” Simon called out. Then, he lifted his gaze and looked in my direction. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second, as cold and detached as if he were looking at an irrelevant intern. No explanations. No begging me to stay. Not even a fake polite goodbye. Sarah cursed under her breath. “What an absolute piece of garbage.” I felt strangely at peace. It turns out that when a heart dies thoroughly enough, even the pain becomes a whisper. Right at that moment, the sky outside darkened violently. Following a low rumble of thunder, a torrential downpour smashed against the city windows without warning. The security guard had already pulled the luxury sedan up to the front steps. He ran over, holding a large black umbrella. Simon took the umbrella from him. His first instinct wasn’t to look back at me. Instead, he tilted his head toward Daisy. “Come on, don’t get wet.” The guard opened the car door for them. Daisy didn’t get into the back. Instead, she naturally pulled open the passenger door and slid into the front seat. Resting on that specific seat was a custom embroidered lumbar pillow. When Simon’s neck issues flared up last year, I had stayed up for three nights stitching it by hand. Now, Daisy stroked the fabric of the pillow. She deliberately rolled down the window and flashed me a crescent-eyed smile. “Audrey, this pillow is so soft. Since you already quit, you won’t mind if I keep it, right?” Simon slid into the driver’s seat, resting one hand casually on the steering wheel. Hearing her ask, he glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “It is just a pillow. Keep it if you like it.” With one careless sentence, he rendered eight years of my devotion completely worthless. The tinted window slowly rolled up, entirely cutting off my view. The next second, the sleek black sedan sliced through the puddles, speeding away from the corporate building without a hint of hesitation. The red taillights were quickly swallowed by the blinding rain. I stood perfectly still on the steps, watching until the very last drop of suffocating hope in my chest was washed away by the storm. Eight years really amounted to nothing. The rain was torrential, yet he couldn’t even be bothered to ask how I was getting home. By the time I gave the taxi driver the address to the apartment I had lived in for five years, my voice was so steady I barely recognized it myself. I pushed open the front door. Sitting in the entryway, right next to Simon’s expensive leather loafers, was a strange pair of women’s house slippers. They were pastel pink, adorned with a cheap faux pearl on the toe. I stared at those slippers for two seconds before a dry laugh escaped my throat. It turns out he had crossed the line long before today. I honestly didn’t have much to pack. Over the past five years, I had poured every single dollar of my savings into keeping his startup afloat. My own closet was filled with nothing but basic, out-of-season clothes I bought on clearance. As I opened my bedside drawer to grab my passport, my fingers brushed against a dust-covered jewelry box. Driven by some phantom impulse, I popped it open. Resting quietly on the velvet cushion was a plain silver band. Eight years ago, Simon bought it for twenty bucks at a local flea market. That night, he had dropped to one knee, his eyes shining with tears. “Audrey, I have absolutely nothing to my name right now. This is all I can give you.” “But I swear to God, when I make it big, I will buy you the biggest diamond in this entire city. I will make you the most envied bride in the world.” I believed him back then. I believed him so deeply that I cut ties with my family. I stood in front of my grandfather and declared that I would rather die than marry anyone else. Grandpa had just looked at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Fine. Eight years.” “If he does not marry you in eight years, you come back here, and you accept the arranged marriage I choose for you.” I was so utterly convinced I was going to win that bet. Now I realize the only true joke was me. I was just about to snap the jewelry box shut when the electronic deadbolt on the front door beeped open. Simon collapsed his wet umbrella and walked into the apartment, smelling of rain and expensive cologne. When he saw the open suitcase on the bedroom floor, his brows knitted together in deep annoyance. He marched over and slammed his hand down on the lid of my suitcase. “Audrey, are you ever going to stop?” “Throwing a tantrum at the office is one thing, but you’re giving me attitude in my own house?” I calmly brushed his hand away and folded my last two sweaters, placing them neatly inside. “I am not throwing a tantrum. I am moving out.” Simon looked at me like I had just told the funniest joke in the world. “Moving out? Where exactly do you think you can go?” He let out a heavy sigh and softened his tone slightly, playing the benevolent peacemaker. “Audrey, I know you are upset that I delayed the city hall appointment.” “But I already explained this to you. I am going to St. Barts to meet with some massive investors. Daisy is taking a vacation down there anyway, so it made perfect sense to travel together.” “She is young, she is pretty, and she has a silver tongue. She can drink the clients under the table and close the deals for me.” “You need to stop being so damn sensitive and acting insanely jealous over nothing.” “We are about to be a married couple. Can you please act like a supportive future wife?” Listening to his shameless justification, a wave of pure, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. What gave him the right to trample my dignity into the dirt and then demand that I be understanding about it? “Simon.” “Do you honestly believe that no matter how horribly you treat me, I will always just forgive you?” He froze for a second, clearly taken aback by how blunt I was being. The next second, his phone screen lit up. He had tossed it onto the nightstand. The message preview flashed brightly in the dim room. [Mr. CEO, I’m at the airport! I really want to eat at that seafood place you took me to last time!] Sender: Daisy. The bedroom fell completely silent. Simon’s face shifted, and he reached out quickly to snatch the phone. I gave a hollow smile. Any lingering doubt I had was instantly eradicated by pure disgust. “Just a business trip?” “Just traveling together?” “Simon, you are too lazy to even come up with a decent lie.” A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but his tone immediately hardened to cover it up. “Daisy is young and she does not have a filter. Are you seriously going to obsess over a stupid text message?” “I do not have the time to argue with you right now. We will talk when I get back from St. Barts.” He still wore that invincible, arrogant armor. But right at that moment, my own phone lit up. A new message popped onto my screen. [Miss Sinclair, the Patriarch sent me to pick you up. I will arrive at the apartment in one hour.] The sender contact was saved simply as: Benson. Simon caught a glimpse of the message out of the corner of his eye. His brow twitched in confusion. “The Patriarch? Pick you up?” I didn’t answer him. Instead, while maintaining dead eye contact, I slowly and deliberately slipped the cheap silver ring off my finger. I dropped it into the velvet box. “It is nothing.” “Just someone finally coming to take me back to where I truly belong.” Just as the words left my mouth, his phone buzzed again on the nightstand. This time, it was a voice memo from Daisy. Simon didn’t even try to hide it. He tapped play right in front of me. “Mr. CEO, are you done packing? I’m waiting for you in the VIP lounge!” The flirtatious, breathy tone was so thick it practically dripped out of the speakers. Yet Simon stared at me with total self-righteousness. “Did you hear that? That is perfectly normal coworker communication.” “Daisy is a bubbly person. Stop projecting your own filthy insecurities onto other people.” I didn’t say a single word. I just picked up the twenty-dollar silver ring and walked over to the open window. Simon seemed to sense a shift in the air. His face changed. “Audrey, what are you doing?” I stared out at the gray, rain-soaked skyline of the city and slowly uncurled my fingers. The silver ring, heavy with eight years of my youth and his lies, plummeted straight down into the muddy alleyway below. It didn’t even make a sound. Like our eight years together, it rotted away completely. I turned around, looked Simon dead in the eyes, and spoke with absolute clarity. “Simon, I am done waiting for you.” He visibly flinched. A brief flash of panic crossed his features. But almost instantly, that panic was buried under his usual mountain of arrogance. “This again?” “Audrey, there really is no limit to the stunts you will pull just to make me bow my head.” In his eyes, dropping the ring out the window was just another tactic to play hard to get. He was absolutely certain that I could never survive without him, that I could never bear to actually leave. But this time, I didn’t even bother giving him an explanation. I zipped my suitcase shut, pulled up the handle, and walked straight past him. As our shoulders brushed, I didn’t spare him a single glance. Sometimes, walking away isn’t a tantrum. It’s a lifetime. The next morning, the storm cleared, leaving a brilliant blue sky. I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my luxury hotel suite, watching the endless stream of traffic below, and let out a long, heavy exhale. The doorbell rang precisely on time. I opened the door to find two rows of men in tailored black suits bowing deeply in unison. Standing at the front was Benson, my grandfather’s most trusted butler. “Miss Sinclair, your private jet is prepped and ready for takeoff. We can return to New York whenever you are ready.” I nodded, grabbed my designer handbag, and followed them without a word. The motorcade glided smoothly toward the international airport. Before we even reached the private aviation terminal, I could see the massive, chaotic crowds flooding the front of the commercial departure halls. Because of last night’s severe thunderstorms, all flights to St. Barts were heavily delayed, leaving thousands of furious passengers stranded. Amidst the sea of people, I instantly spotted the two most recognizable figures. Simon and Daisy. Right at that moment, Daisy’s gaze wandered past the massive glass walls of the terminal and locked onto my side of the tarmac. Her eyes widened in unfiltered envy. She tugged aggressively on Simon’s expensive jacket sleeve, whispering loudly. “Wow, Simon, look at that!” “That is what real old money looks like.” Simon frowned in irritation and looked up. His eyes met mine.

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1 The dealer eyed me skeptically. Ma’am, this car’s pristine, priced well below market. Why the rush? I rested my fingers on the doorframe, voice flat. Because of a preset seat memory. Yesterday, burning with fever, I sank into the passenger seat, aching to recline. But Max’s hand clamped my wrist. Don’t touch that. That slot’s for Sienna. Mess it up and her back flares for days. He reset the memory, watched the seat glide back, then softened his tone. Sienna’s back is bad. She’s your best friend, Stephanie. Show some empathy. Staring at his profile, I felt a wave of absurdity. Six years together, six years riding shotgun, and he’d never saved a setting for me. Yet he’d programmed one for my best friend. I said nothing, climbed into the back. In the mirror, he mistook my silence for a tantrum, sighed, offered no apology. Leaning against the cold glass, my phone lit up. Notification: Engagement venue reservation canceled. This ride with Max was over. … The car pulled up to our building. The rain was still pouring. Max held the umbrella as he escorted me to the lobby. I leaned against the tiled wall, trying to catch my breath, when he suddenly stopped. “Go on up. I need to go back to the car for a second.” I turned around and watched him run straight back into the downpour. He opened the passenger door, pressed the memory button twice, and even shook the backrest to test the angle. He bent down to measure the legroom with his hands, ensuring it was absolutely flawless before shutting the door. Half his shoulder was soaked, but he didn’t seem to notice. Standing in the chilly draft of the lobby, my heart went cold. It wasn’t that he lacked a sense of detail. He just never used it on me. Upstairs, I collapsed onto the couch. My phone buzzed. Auto-draft successful: $580. It came directly from my checking account. I had paid seventy percent of the down payment on that car; he had only chipped in thirty. The loan was entirely in my name, tied to my credit. In the beginning, he promised to transfer his share every month. He even attached a sweet note to his first transfer: For our little road-tripper. Then, the payments dwindled to nothing. Occasionally he would send me fifty bucks when he remembered, but most of the time he just conveniently forgot. I never pressed him. I figured we were getting married anyway, so keeping score felt cheap. What a joke. I was the one keeping up the payments, while my best friend claimed the passenger seat as her exclusive throne. I opened the car’s connected app on my phone. The number one frequent destination was Sienna’s yoga studio. Second was her apartment. My office was a distant third. Looking at the trip logs from the past three months, almost every route involved a massive detour just to pick her up. Suddenly, his constant refrain over the last six months made sense: “It’s on the way.” On the way to drop Sienna off at class. On the way to take her home. On the way to drive her to physical therapy. Yet, when I worked late into the night and called him for a ride, his response was always the same: “Just grab an Uber, babe. I’ll pay you back for it.” Apparently, convenience was selective. For some people, a detour across the entire city was “on the way.” For others, a two-mile drive was too much gas to waste. Max walked into the living room carrying a glass of warm water and some pills. He pressed his palm to my forehead. “You’re still burning up. Take these and go to sleep.” I took the glass without a word. He sighed, sitting down beside me. “Are you seriously still mad about the seat? Sienna’s back is just starting to heal. She can’t handle a bumpy ride. You need to be more understanding.” I stared at the swirling water in my cup. “You’re overthinking it.” He blinked, clearly caught off guard by my flat tone. He reached out to wrap his arms around me, but I quietly pulled away. “Tell you what. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you diving in the Bahamas, okay?” In the past, I would have taken the peace offering and let it go. Tonight, the promise just tasted bitter. Right then, his phone buzzed. “Sienna” lit up the screen. He shot a quick, guilty glance at me. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him. But he didn’t close it all the way. His voice drifted through the gap, clear as day. “Don’t worry, I reset the seat. It’s at the exact same angle as last time.” “I’ll pick you up for therapy tomorrow morning sharp. I won’t let your back flare up again.” My grip tightened around the glass. I opened a used-car appraisal app, entered my license plate, and checked the estimated value. Then I looked up the remaining balance on the loan. If I paid it off early using the refund from our canceled honeymoon, it would cover it perfectly. I had spent six months planning that trip. It was supposed to be our honeymoon. But yesterday, he had casually brushed it aside. “Sienna can’t miss her therapy sessions. We can do the trip later.” I hadn’t argued. I just went online and canceled every flight and hotel booking. When Max came back inside, he tucked the throw blanket around my shoulders and told me to rest. I closed my eyes and muttered an agreement. The moment the bathroom door closed and the shower started running, I opened my eyes. I took a screenshot of the car’s trade-in value. Since the passenger seat was no longer mine, keeping the car was pointless. Just like keeping him. The next morning, I walked to the entryway to pick up a package. There, sitting prominently on the shoe rack, was a pair of plush bunny slippers. My own sneakers had been shoved into the dark, dusty corner. Max emerged from the kitchen. Seeing me stare at the shoe rack, he offered a sheepish explanation. “Sienna stopped by yesterday morning to wait for me before work. Her back hurts if she stands too long. Since she’s your best friend, I figured I’d keep a pair here for her. Don’t overthink it.” I nodded. I didn’t ask when they had become close enough for her to lounge around our place before work. I didn’t ask why an outsider’s belongings were taking up my space. I turned to grab a drink from the fridge. Hanging on the inside door was a sticky note in his handwriting: Sienna can’t have cold drinks. Keep them room temp. My stash of cold brew had been relegated to the bottom drawer. In their place stood two rows of sweet peach teas, Sienna’s favorite. Max walked over and offered me a bottle. “Her stomach’s been acting up, so I grabbed these. You like sweet drinks too, right?” I let out a dry laugh and shut the fridge door. He had forgotten. I hated sweet drinks. Sienna was the one with the sweet tooth. Sensing my coldness, he tried to patch things up. “Come on, babe. Don’t be petty with someone who’s sick.” Before he could finish, his phone buzzed with a voice note from Sienna. He tapped it, and it blasted over speakerphone. “Max! The mountain trail passes are buy-one-get-one free today! Want to go hiking with me this weekend?” Max’s thumbs flew across his screen. “I’m taking Sienna to Stone Mountain this weekend,” he announced casually. “You’ll have to grab dinner on your own.” I looked up at him. “What about me?” He glanced at me as if I’d asked a stupid question. “If you want to come, just buy a ticket. Sienna’s sweet. She won’t mind sharing the trip.” My fingers tightened around my bottle. I didn’t say another word. For years, this had been our dynamic. Two-for-one boba deals? They split them. Department store coupons? They pooled their purchases to hit the threshold. Even a weekend getaway? His first thought was to secure a discount package with her. I was always the third wheel who had to pay full price alone. I used to make excuses for him. Her back is bad, she needs the company. But in that moment, the illusion shattered. There was no innocent helping hand. They had simply drawn a circle around themselves and left me on the outside. To fully force myself to let go, I went with them. Sienna skipped over to the car, pulling the passenger door open. The moment she saw me sitting inside, her smile froze. “Stephanie! I didn’t know you were coming! If I’d known, I would’ve asked Max to grab another pass.” Max turned around from the driver’s seat. “Stephanie, hop in the back. Sienna’s back is sensitive, and she’s used to the front. Just accommodate her this once.” I looked at him, my eyes stinging. He remembered her back pain, but he entirely forgot that I got severely carsick. Sienna played the martyr, gently tugging at his sleeve. “Oh, don’t say that. I can sit in the back. It’s just that my spine acts up on long drives, and I’d hate to be a burden and make you drive me to physical therapy again.” At those words, Max threw open his door, marched to my side, and grabbed my wrist. His grip was rough as he pulled me out of the seat. I stumbled, and before I could steady myself, he shoved me into the back. He leaned in, his voice cold as ice. “Sienna’s condition is fragile. Be reasonable.” The door slammed shut. Rubbing my bruised wrist, a wave of nausea hit me. “Max, pull over.” My voice trembled, thick with bile. He caught my eye in the mirror and sneered. “It’s just the back seat, Stephanie. Do you have to make a scene out of everything? Can’t you just grow up?” Sienna immediately turned around, her face a mask of deep regret. “This is all my fault. Stephanie, if you’re really that uncomfortable, let’s swap. My back will be fine. I’ll just do an extra therapy session next week. I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.” She reached for her seatbelt, but Max quickly pressed her shoulder down. “Don’t move. You just started feeling better. What if you slip a disc again?” He glared back at me, his teeth clenched. “Stephanie, stop pushing her. You know what she’s going through. Can’t you just tolerate it for once?” “I can’t tolerate it! I’m carsick!” My vision was blurring, and a sour taste flooded my mouth. “Carsick?” he scoffed, completely dismissive. “Since when do you get carsick? You’re just trying to ruin the trip.” By the time we finally reached the mountain park entrance, I threw the door open and scrambled out. Clutching the trunk of a pine tree, I threw up. Max leaned against the hood, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Unbelievable. We try to have a nice day out, and you turn it into a disaster.” Sienna’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Stephanie. If I hadn’t suggested the passes, you wouldn’t have to suffer like this.” She winced, pressing a hand to her lower back as if struggling to stand. Max immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to support her. He looked over at me, his expression softening slightly when he saw the tears of physical exhaustion on my face. “Alright, now that you’re done, let’s go.” He guided Sienna toward the trail entrance. The stone path was uneven and rocky. The two of them walked briskly ahead. Max kept his arm around her, never once looking back. I forced myself to keep up, but my foot caught on a jagged root. A sharp, white-hot pain shot up my leg. I gasped, collapsing onto the dirt. “Max!” I cried out. Max stopped, starting to turn around. But Sienna suddenly shrieked and threw herself into his arms. “Ah! A bug! Max, get it off me!” Max caught her tightly, his voice frantic. “Where? Did it bite you?” He glanced at the ground, spotting a harmless black ant. “It’s just a little ant, Sienna. You’re terrified of that?” Yet, he bent down and scooped her up in a bridal carry. Sienna gasped, playfully swatting his shoulder. “Stop laughing! It scared me! What if it was poisonous?” “Alright, alright, my bad.” He carried her forward, laughing and chatting, completely forgetting I existed. I sat in the dirt, the pain in my ankle throbbing. I remembered a time when a tiny scrape on my knee would throw him into a panic. Now, nothing I did could catch his eye. Thunder rumbled overhead, and a sudden downpour slammed into the forest. I dragged myself up, limping heavily through the storm. By the time I reached the cable car station, I was soaked to the bone. “Last ride! Only one cabin left, and it only fits two people!” the operator shouted over the wind. My heart sank. I grabbed Max’s wet sleeve, my voice hoarse. “Max, please. I can’t walk. Help me up.” Sienna shrank into his chest. “Max, the thunder is so loud… and my back is killing me. If we have to hike down in this storm, I think my spine will give out.” She looked at me, her eyes red. “Stephanie, I’m so sorry. I’m so useless. You and Max should go first. I’ll manage.” Max looked conflicted, then turned to me. “Stephanie, wait here for half an hour. Let me get Sienna down safely, and I’ll come right back up for you. She has a chronic injury. If she gets cold in this rain, it’ll ruin her health.” I stared at him, and a cold, empty laugh escaped my lips. “I sprained my ankle, Max. Are you blind? Why should I give up my spot to her and freeze in the rain?” “Why can’t you ever be the bigger person?” His face darkened. He tossed his jacket to me. “Wear this. I’ll be back before you know it.” As the cabin door locked with a heavy metallic click, it felt like a blunt knife twisting in my chest. The torrential rain quickly soaked through his discarded jacket. Standing on the deserted platform, I watched the cable car vanish into the gray fog. I had no choice but to drag my injured foot down the mountain trail, step by agonizing step. Rainwater and cold sweat blinded my eyes. By the time I finally reached the bottom of the trail, my strength gave out entirely, and I collapsed onto the wet gravel. The next morning, Max finally noticed the silence in our chat history. Just as he grabbed his keys, his mother called. “Max! The venue just called to say the engagement party is canceled! What on earth is going on?” Before he could process her words, Sienna let out a sharp gasp from beside him. “Max! Look outside! The car is being towed!” He rushed downstairs to stop them, but the tow truck driver shrugged him off, shoving a clipboard in his face. “The vehicle was sold by Ms. Stephanie. All paperwork is signed and legal. Didn’t she tell you?”

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1 Kevin is a superstar voice actor with millions of fans. I’m a retired one, my career ended when I destroyed my vocal cords saving his life. On the day the doctors declared me mute, Kevin knelt beside me, vowing to adapt my novel into an audio drama. He promised to use my archived voice for the lead role. But when the script was finalized, he replaced me with a rising starlet. I signed frantically, demanding answers. He looked irritated. You’re mute, Gwen. Expect fans to listen to old, static recordings? Molly’s voice is expressive, nearly identical to yours. She’s perfect. Stop being selfish. At the launch, I lingered outside the dressing room. Inside, Molly cooed, Kevin, why mimic Gwen’s old pronunciation? He chuckled. It was her signature. Old fans will recognize it. We’ll ride her popularity for buzz. I froze, clutching a cassette of my master recordings. I’d believed seven years of sacrifice earned respect. Instead, I was just a washed-up prop for profit. My grip tightened until the plastic snapped. My world had been silent for seven years. I no longer needed his voice to fill the void. … The lights on the main stage flared to life, and Kevin led Molly to the center of the platform. The host smiled warmly. “Kevin, this audio drama has been seven years in the making. We all heard rumors that it was a gift for your wife, but the lead role went to Molly. Aren’t you worried your wife will be jealous?” Below the stage, the fans began to cheer and tease. Kevin held the microphone, his profile bathed in the soft stage lights, looking incredibly gentle. “She will understand. A masterpiece requires the most suitable voice, and Molly is exactly that.” Molly lowered her head with a shy smile. The silver custom earpiece she wore caught the light. That was a birthday gift I had customized for Kevin last year. Engraved on the inner band was a single sentence: May you always be heard by the world. I stood in the shadows of the backstage wing. My palm was still stinging from the sharp plastic edges of the broken cassette tape. Production assistants rushed past me, none of them recognizing who I was, and none of them knowing that the original creator of this story should have been the one standing in the spotlight. Kevin had once promised me that when he reached the peak of his career, he would personally narrate my story to the entire world. Now, he had reached the peak. But he was holding someone else’s hand. Molly took the microphone, her voice as sweet as honey. “Honestly, I’ve been under a lot of pressure. Kevin told me that Gwen’s voice used to be legendary, and I was so worried I wouldn’t do it justice. I didn’t want to let them down.” Someone in the crowd yelled, “You’re doing amazing, Molly! You have way more emotion than any AI!” Kevin smiled, reaching over to gently adjust her earpiece. “Don’t be nervous. You are far more suited for this role than she is now.” My fingers curled into a tight fist. Those words weren’t loud, but they felt like a cruel hand dragging my seven years of silence into the open just to stomp on it in front of a crowd. My assistant, Penny, saw me and quickly hurried over, keeping her voice low. “Gwen, Kevin said it’s best if you don’t go out to the front. Since you can’t speak, it might make things awkward if the media starts asking questions.” I opened the notes app on my phone and typed a message for her to read. I am the author, and I own the rights to this story. Why can’t I go out there? Penny’s face went stiff. “Gwen, there are too many fans here today. If you get emotional and start using sign language on camera, it’s going to look really bad. Kevin is only looking out for you.” Looking out for me. I had heard those words for seven long years. During the studio fire seven years ago, the soundproof panels collapsed, trapping Kevin inside the recording booth. I was the one who ran through the flames to drag him out, ruining my vocal cords from the toxic smoke. The doctor told me that if I had the secondary reconstructive surgery immediately, I might still have a chance of speaking again. But back then, Kevin had just signed his first major contract, and his sudden split from his management agency left him with a massive debt in liquidated damages. I took my surgery savings and used every penny to pay off his debt. He had held my hands and promised, “Gwen, once I make it, I will say everything you can’t say for the rest of our lives.” I believed him. I believed him right up until today, when the first thing he chose to say on my behalf was that I was no longer suitable. When the launch event ended, Kevin walked backstage. Molly followed close behind, cradling a massive bouquet of flowers from her fans. When he saw me, his brow instantly furrowed. “Why are you still here?” I raised my phone. Why did you block me from going on stage? Kevin glanced at the screen, pinching the bridge of his nose with obvious exhaustion. “The casting was a team decision. I don’t need to report every single business move to you.” This script is my intellectual property, and the female lead is based entirely on me. Why was I excluded? Kevin’s expression went cold. “Gwen, do you absolutely have to make things difficult for Molly?” I stared at him, typing out my reply letter by letter. But the only one being humiliated here is me. Kevin gave a dismissive sigh. “I have never forgotten that you saved me, Gwen. That’s why I’ve taken care of you and provided you with the best possible life for the last seven years. But business is business. You can’t use your past sacrifice to leverage my professional decisions.” A bitter smile played on my lips. So our seven years of marriage amounted to nothing more than him “taking care” of me. I looked down at my phone and tapped send on a pre-drafted email. I hereby withdraw my authorization for the audio drama adaptation. My legal counsel will follow up with the breach of contract details shortly. The confirmation notice flashed on the screen. I locked my phone, turned around, and walked out into the rain. 2 Kevin did not come home that night. The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on and off in the empty apartment, leaving only the vintage cassette player sitting quietly on the desk. I placed the broken pieces of the cassette tape into a drawer. Lying right beside them was the unsigned surgery consent form from seven years ago. The paper had already yellowed with age, and the signature line remained entirely blank. At the time, the doctor had pressed me, “Are you absolutely sure you want to delay the secondary reconstruction? If you wait too long, you might lose your voice permanently.” I had simply nodded. I did it because Kevin had been standing in the hospital corridor, fresh off a devastating call from his agent, looking completely pale. He had told me that if his debut project fell through, his career would be over before it even started. I never could have guessed that once he finally made it, he would never bother to look back at the girl who sacrificed her voice for him. At eight in the morning, the front door clicked open. Kevin walked in, carrying the faint scent of the recording studio’s mint diffuser. He held a sleek shopping bag in his hand, which he placed gently on the dining table. “The launch went perfectly yesterday, and Molly is already trending,” he said, slipping off his jacket. “Look, I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. I bought this to make it up to you.” I opened the bag. Inside was the latest model of a digital text-to-speech voice synthesizer. A small sticky note was attached to the user manual. Pre-loaded with Molly’s customized vocal profile. I stared at the note, a chill creeping over my skin. Kevin unbuttoned his cuffs, his voice entirely casual. “From now on, whenever you type, it will read the words out loud. It’ll save you the trouble of using sign language when people can’t understand you.” I typed a single question on my phone and showed it to him. Why does it have her voice? Kevin glanced at the screen. “The sponsor gave it to me for free. Of course it uses Molly’s voice profile. Don’t be so sensitive. Having this is much better than you waving your hands around like a mute.” He sat down on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. The screen lit up with a voice note from Molly. “Kevin, I just tried the warm honey water you sent over. My throat feels so much better! I can’t believe you remembered that I can’t have ice.” A soft, genuine smile touched Kevin’s lips as he typed back, “Rest your voice. We have a long recording session this afternoon.” Standing next to him, I suddenly realized I hadn’t tasted warm honey water in years. My respiratory system had always been weak, and after the fire, the doctor warned me to avoid cold drinks, stress, and late nights. Kevin had remembered those rules for a few weeks in the beginning. But once his schedule packed up, my nightly coughing fits only brought a frown to his face. “Maybe you should sleep in the guest room, Gwen. I have a major session tomorrow, and I can’t afford to lose sleep.” Molly sent another photo. It was a shot of her newly decorated dressing room at the studio, complete with her favorite strawberry cakes and a wall covered in pink sticky notes. Her caption read: Kevin says every girl deserves to be spoiled at work. Kevin looked up at me. “See how sweet she is? She actually appreciates the little things people do for her.” I pulled up my phone. I used to love strawberries, too. Kevin blinked, as if trying to recall a distant memory, before giving a shrug. “Really? I thought you hated sweet things.” I didn’t bother replying. I stopped eating sweets because my stomach had been ruined by years of working double shifts to support us. When he got his first lead role, the studio didn’t provide meals, so I walked miles every day to deliver hot food to his booth. On my way back, I would huddle outside a convenience store, choking down cheap, stale bread just to save money. Eventually, the sheer exhaustion made me vomit at the smell of butter and cream. He didn’t know. He had never cared to ask. At noon, Kevin’s phone rang. It was his manager. “Kevin, Resonance Studios just contacted us. They said the author of the novel is renegotiating the audio rights. Isn’t the author your wife? What is going on?” Resonance Studios was the absolute titan of the audio production industry. Kevin’s gaze immediately snapped to me. He hung up the phone, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Did you contact another studio?” I nodded, offering no explanation. He stood up, his anger boiling over. “Gwen! Do you have any idea how much money we’ve sunk into this project? Are you really going to burn everything down just because of a casting dispute?” I am not throwing a tantrum. This is a business decision. Your studio changed the lead voice actor and altered the marketing direction without the author’s written consent. You are in material breach of our contract. Kevin let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “We are married, Gwen. My studio is your studio. Do you really have to draw such a petty line between us?” I looked at him, typing my response slowly and deliberately. From now on, yes. Kevin’s face turned incredibly dark. Before he could speak, the doorbell rang. Molly stood on the mat, cradling a stack of script folders. “Kevin, did I come at a bad time?” she asked timidly. Kevin’s voice softened instantly. “Not at all. Come on in.” As she stepped inside, she naturally slid her feet into a pair of soft-soled slippers. Those slippers were a custom pair I had bought for myself because of an old injury on my left foot that made hard soles painful. Kevin, of course, had never noticed. Molly sat down in my usual spot on the sofa, opening her script. “Gwen, I was hoping to listen to your old cassette tape today. Kevin said your crying scenes had incredible depth when you were younger. I want to study your technique to do the character justice.” I looked over at Kevin. He avoided my eyes, muttering, “It’s just an old demo tape, Gwen. Don’t be petty.” I walked over to the desk, pulled the broken cassette tape out of the drawer, and placed it on the coffee table. Molly gasped, her face turning pale. “It’s broken?” I typed. It’s useless now. Kevin suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight. “Gwen, have you lost your mind? That was the only master recording we had of your original voice. We needed it for promotional comparisons! How could you destroy it?” The plastic edges dug into my skin, but I didn’t flinch. He remembered it was the only copy. But he didn’t care that my voice was gone forever. He only cared about the lost marketing value. The signing ceremony with Resonance Studios was scheduled for Saturday morning. Cory, the lead director, pushed the new contract toward me. “Gwen, once you officially revoke the authorization from Kevin’s studio, we will handle the production from scratch. We won’t use a stand-in voice for your character. We suggest keeping the female lead silent, using ambient sounds, narration, and text overlays to tell her story.” I stared at him, momentarily stunned. He understood my silence and added gently, “Your silence is a powerful part of the story. It doesn’t need to be simulated by anyone else.” I picked up the pen and signed my name. As the ink dried, my eyes welled with tears. For seven years, someone had finally acknowledged that my lost voice was not a flaw to be covered up. Cory’s assistant handed me a schedule. “Gwen, we have a small press conference scheduled for this afternoon. You won’t have to speak. We’ve prepared a digital board and real-time screen displays for you.” I nodded, a weight finally lifting from my chest. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a live-stream notification. I opened the link to find Molly’s personal account streaming live. The title read: Rehearsing the final confession scene with Kevin. I was about to close the app when I saw Marcus, Kevin’s childhood friend, sitting on the studio sofa, laughing loudly. “Did she actually think Kevin made this drama for her? Kevin, you really knew how to sweet-talk her back then.” Another voice chimed in. “She’s mute now, yet she still wanted to hoard the lead role. She obviously doesn’t care about what the fans want.” Molly made a weak attempt to quiet them down. “Don’t talk about Gwen like that. She did sacrifice a lot for Kevin.” Marcus scoffed. “Sacrifice? No one forced her to run into that fire. Kevin didn’t beg her to save him. Besides, Kevin has treated her like a queen for seven years. She has a house, a car, what else does she want?” The camera panned over to Kevin. He didn’t defend me. He simply kept adjusting the audio mixer, his expression indifferent. Someone asked, “Kevin, is she really revoking the rights?” Kevin replied casually, “She’s just throwing a fit. She has nowhere else to go. Once she calms down, she’ll sign the papers.” The comment section was flying by. So the author is Kevin’s wife? A mute trying to play the lead is honestly kind of embarrassing. Molly’s voice is so sweet. She shouldn’t be guilt-tripped by some washed-up senior. I gripped my phone, a cold numbness spreading from my chest to my fingertips. So everyone knew how pathetic I was. They knew he didn’t love me, they knew his promises were hollow, and they knew my seven years of silent waiting was nothing but a “tantrum” in his eyes. I was the only one kept in the dark. Cory gently took the phone from my hand, locking the screen. “Gwen, don’t look at it.” I took a slow, deep breath and typed. The press conference proceeds as planned. At two in the afternoon, the Resonance Studios press hall was packed with reporters. The giant screen displayed the new concept art for the audio drama. There were no actors’ names listed, only a picture of a shattered cassette tape and a single tagline: Her seven years of silence will finally be heard. When the host introduced me, the applause from the crowd was respectful and quiet. I walked onto the stage carrying my digital writing pad, writing my first statement: This story will no longer be a charity case for anyone. As I began typing the second sentence, a sudden commotion broke out at the entrance. Kevin pushed past the security guards, marching into the hall. He had clearly rushed straight from the airport; his black trench coat was damp with rain, and his brow was set in a deep scowl. The media cameras immediately swung toward him. Molly followed right behind him, panting for breath. “Gwen, please stop this. Kevin hasn’t slept in days because of this project.” Kevin looked at me on the stage, then at the massive Resonance Studios logo on the screen. His expression fractured. “Gwen!” His voice rang out clearly through the hall’s sound system. “Would you seriously rather give your work to strangers than support me?” I looked at him, feeling nothing but a profound sense of exhaustion. Even now, his only concern was his own career. Cory stepped in front of me. “Kevin, the authorization has been legally revoked. Please leave the premises.” Kevin glared at him, letting out a cold sneer. “And who are you? Her new sponsor?” The flashbulbs were blinding. I lifted my writing pad, displaying three words: He is my lawyer. Kevin’s eyes widened in shock. He took a step toward the stage, but security guards quickly closed in from both sides. I held the stylus tight, watching him stand just a few feet away. “Gwen, come down here,” Kevin commanded, his eyes locked onto mine. In the past, whenever he called my name like that, I would drop everything and run to him. I would hand him water, organize his scripts, or use sign language to soothe his anxiety when he was on the verge of a breakdown. This time, I didn’t move an inch. The host tried to diffuse the situation. “Kevin, today is Gwen’s press launch. If you have personal matters to discuss, please wait until after the event.” Kevin shot him a lethal look. “This is between me and my wife.” I raised my writing pad again. Not for long.

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