I listed our World Cup final tickets on a resale app, and in less than five minutes, a buyer messaged me. “Hey girl, I’ll pay seventy thousand for the pair.” “If you aren’t happy with that, I can go higher.” I stared at the offer for a few seconds, my chest tightening. I typed back: “No need. That’s way too high. I’ll transfer them to you at face value.” Her reply came instantly, bubbling with gratitude: “Oh my god, thank you so much! I’ve been looking everywhere and couldn’t find tickets anywhere.” “My husband told me that as long as I’m happy, money doesn’t matter.” My throat went dry, a bitter taste rising in my mouth. Those two tickets were supposed to be our fifth-anniversary present. I had spent months planning this. But Jack, my husband, had scoffed at the price and insisted I sell them. The night of the final, Jack was away on another “business trip.” During the eighty-seventh minute of the match, my phone lit up with a text from him. “Hey babe, I’m going to have to pull an all-nighter at the office. Go to sleep early.” I had just typed back “Okay” when the game-winning goal was scored on screen. The stadium erupted. People were screaming, embracing, lost in the collective madness. The camera panned across Section C of the crowd, capturing a man fiercely wrapping his arms around a young woman and kissing her deeply. The shot lasted only a second, but it was long enough for the glow of the television to wash over my suddenly bloodless face. Section C, Row Seven. Consecutive seats. The exact tickets I had hand-delivered to the buyer on the resale app. And the man who was holding her—the one who, a minute ago, told me he was stuck at the office—was Jack. … The referee’s final whistle blew. Around the world, millions cheered. But my world went completely, terrifyingly quiet. To capture the raw energy of the stadium, the broadcast slowly zoomed back in on Section C. There, amidst the sea of screaming fans, Jack was dropping to one knee in front of the girl. She was wearing an oversized jersey, but it couldn’t quite conceal the gentle curve of her belly. I watched the replay all night. I played those short three seconds twenty-seven times. There was no mistake. It was him. At dawn, a notification popped up. The girl from the resale app had sent me a friend request on Instagram. My fingers felt numb as I accepted it. Instantly, a barrage of voice notes flooded my inbox. “Thank you again! My husband just proposed to me right there in the stadium!” “If you hadn’t sold us those tickets, I would have missed the most magical night of my life!” I stared at the screen, my mind completely blank. I typed out a hollow reply: “Congratulations.” Perhaps my easy transaction made her feel like she could confide in me. “I’m so sorry, my voice is practically gone today. He was just so excited last night. Once we got back to the hotel, he didn’t care about the baby at all—he kept me up until dawn…” A raw, bitter laugh escaped my throat. I remembered frantically calling Jack last night, my chest tight with panic, only for every call to be instantly declined. All I had gotten in return was a cold, text-message brush-off: “I’m in the middle of something. Stop acting crazy.” Jack didn’t come home until the following evening. He looked exhausted as he walked through the front door, immediately pulling me into his arms. “Babe, I am so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with simulated fatigue. “This launch has been brutal. I’ve been running on nothing but coffee, and I can’t believe I missed our anniversary.” I hadn’t slept in over thirty hours. I didn’t even have the energy to push him away. But as my cheek rested against his shoulder, my nose caught it—the distinct, lingering scent of another woman’s perfume on his collar. After a moment, Jack pulled back and slipped a cheap, plastic soccer-ball keychain into my hand. “Things were so crazy, I didn’t even have time to run to a proper store,” he said, offering a weak, apologetic smile. “I saw you were keeping up with the tournament, so I grabbed this as a little souvenir.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to wash off the flight.” He turned and disappeared into the bathroom. Before I could even process the weight of the plastic keychain in my palm, my phone buzzed. It was Melanie. “Hey girl! I just landed back in the States! I’d love to take you out for lunch to say thank you in person.” Directly below the text, she sent a photo of herself holding an iced latte. My eyes locked onto the ring finger of her left hand. A massive, brilliant-cut diamond ring. A month ago, I had accidentally stumbled upon the receipt for that exact ring in Jack’s email. Fifty thousand dollars. I had spent the last four weeks quietly believing it was my fifth-anniversary surprise. Now, I looked down at the plastic keychain in my hand. The price tag was still stuck to the back. “$5.” A moment later, the bathroom door opened and Jack stepped out, towel-drying his hair. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re miles away.” I looked up at him, the question finally tearing through my chest. “Jack. Were you at the game last night?” A flicker of pure, unadulterated panic flashed across his face, gone as quickly as it came. “Why would you ask that? Did you hear something?” “No,” I said, lowering my eyes to hide the shattering of my heart. “Just wondering.” He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping. “Babe, I was buried under a mountain of spreadsheets. I barely had time to eat, let alone go to a game.” He came over, squeezing my shoulder. “Don’t let your mind wander. I’m going to head into the study to answer a few quick emails. You should get some sleep.” Once the study door clicked shut, I went into the bedroom. There was another message from Melanie. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask—why did you sell those tickets? They were practically impossible to get.” A sharp ache bloomed in my chest. To surprise Jack for our anniversary, I had spent ten months waking up in the middle of the night to enter ticket lotteries. It was a miracle when I finally secured them three months ago. But when I had excitedly told him, his only reaction was to snap at me for spending fourteen thousand dollars on “something so trivial.” Yet he had happily dropped fifty thousand on a ring and seventy thousand on tickets for Melanie, just to make her smile. I took a slow, trembling breath and typed: “I was planning to go with my husband. But… I think he just didn’t want to go with me.” The screen remained silent for two minutes. Then, Melanie sent a long, earnest voice note. “Honestly, girl, I’ve always believed that if a man really loves you, he’ll make the time. No excuses.” “Last week, I had terrible stomach cramps, and my husband postponed a ten-million-dollar board meeting just to fly back and sit by my bed.” Another message popped up—a photo of a breathtaking sunrise over a private beach. “I casually mentioned that I wanted to see the sunrise on the coast, and he chartered a private jet to take me there the next morning.” Reading her words, I remembered the agonizing stomach cramps I’d had the previous week. I had called Jack, unable to even stand, and his only response was to send a pharmacy courier with a box of painkillers. I had asked him so many times if we could just take a weekend to drive down to the coast and watch the sunrise. Every single time, he told me he was too busy at the firm, adding that we were “an old married couple” and didn’t need to chase cheap thrills. It turned out he wasn’t incapable of romance. He just didn’t want to waste it on me. I stared at the screen for a long time before replying: “You’re right.” I paused, my fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing: “Are you two married?” The status changed to “typing…” and remained there for a while. Finally, she responded, her tone laced with a touch of performative guilt. “To be honest… he actually has a family.” “But I’m not some home-wrecking mistress! They don’t love each other anymore. The spark died years ago.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. I forced my shaking fingers to type: “If there’s no love left, why hasn’t he filed for divorce?” A few minutes later, Melanie sent a screenshot of her conversation with Jack. It was his face. His work account. In the screenshot, Melanie had written: “If you can’t let her go, we should end this. I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” Jack’s reply was immediate: “Mel, don’t say that.” “What I have with her isn’t love anymore. It’s just history, duty, and routine. But you… you are the one I actually want to love.” “I’ll give you everything you could ever ask for. Everything except that piece of paper.” I sat in the dark, unable to move. Ten years. Ten years of building a life together, of weathering storms, of quiet sacrifices. And in his eyes, it had all boiled down to “duty and routine.” If this was where we stood, then it was time to let the curtain fall. The next morning, before Jack could leave for the office, I called out to him. “Jack. I want a divorce.” He was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie. He didn’t even turn around, just frowned slightly. “Nadine, are you seriously still throwing a fit because we didn’t go to the game?” “I’m serious.” “Look, I have a massive client meeting in thirty minutes,” he said, checking his watch before giving me a quick, dismissive kiss on the forehead. “Stop playing games. I’ll come home early tonight and we can talk.” He hurried out the door. I watched him go, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. I pulled out a suitcase and began packing, but before I could finish, my phone rang. It was the hospital. My mother had suffered a massive, sudden cardiac arrest. She was in critical condition. By the time I rushed into the ICU, the doctors told me she needed to be transferred immediately to the specialized heart unit at the city’s private medical center. If she didn’t get in, she wouldn’t survive the night. But the private wing had a waiting list miles long. Terrified and desperate, I called Jack. “Jack, my mom… she’s dying. They need to transfer her to the private wing at Presbyterian. You know the chief of medicine there. Please, can you just call him? Just ask for a bed…” On the other end of the line, Jack let out a long, irritated sigh. “Nadine, calling in a massive favor like that for a routine transfer? It’s really not worth the political capital.” My voice cracked, tears finally spilling over. “Jack, she’s dying! I’m not asking for a favor, I’m begging you to save her life!” “Look, I’ve already had my assistant call Mercy West,” his voice hardened, brooking no argument. “Their cardiac unit is perfectly fine. It’s more than enough. I’m in the middle of a board meeting. I have to go.” “Jack, please—” The line went dead. A second later, a notification banner popped up on my screen. Melanie had posted on her story. It was a photo of a small Golden Retriever puppy with a tiny pink cast on its leg. “My poor baby fell off the bed and fractured his paw. I’m literally crying.” “Thankfully, my amazing husband pulled some strings to get the head of orthopedic surgery from the private hospital to do an emergency house call.” I stared at the image, the room spinning around me. My mother’s life was a minor inconvenience. A puppy’s sprained paw was a crisis worthy of a medical director’s personal intervention. My mother didn’t make it through the afternoon. She passed away in the back of the transfer ambulance, her hand turning cold in mine before we ever reached Mercy West. In the days that followed, the sheer weight of the funeral arrangements and the suffocating grief crushed me. During a meeting with the funeral director, my vision went black, and I collapsed. When I woke up in the hospital bed, the doctor handed me a thin slip of paper. I was pregnant. I held the paper in my trembling hand, feeling nothing but a profound, sickening sense of irony. When I finally went back to the house that evening, Jack was actually in the kitchen, cooking dinner. He smiled warmly, guiding me to the table. “Nadine, try not to worry so much,” he said, pouring me a glass of water. “I made sure everything was set up at Mercy West. Your mom is in good hands there. She just needs rest, and she’ll be back on her feet in no time.” He didn’t even know. He hadn’t bothered to check. I didn’t correct him. I just stared at him, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “The doctor asked me today if we were planning on having kids soon.” The spoon in his hand paused mid-air. “Nadine, honestly, I hate the thought of you going through the physical toll of pregnancy,” he said, his tone dripping with protective concern. “And with my workload right now, I wouldn’t have the energy to support you. Let’s put that on the back burner for a few years.” I slowly folded the pregnancy test results in my pocket, my fingers squeezing the paper tight. “Okay,” I whispered. Late that night, Jack slept soundly beside me. I lay awake in the dark, my phone illuminating the room. Melanie had posted another update—a photo of a half-assembled crib. “Our little miracle gave me a kick today!” “My husband is the sweetest—the second I texted him about it, he literally walked out of his afternoon executive meeting to rush home and feel the baby move!” “An important meeting.” The exact excuse he had used to let my mother die. At 4:00 AM, while Jack’s breathing remained deep and even, I quietly got out of bed, took my keys, and drove to the women’s health clinic. I lay on the cold sterile table, letting the tears stream silently into my hair. I didn’t want this child. I didn’t want this marriage. I wanted to burn every bridge that connected me to him. As the procedure began, a sudden, blinding agony tore through my abdomen. “Wait, we have a problem! Severe hemorrhaging! Get the clamps, now!” The room erupted into chaos. The pain was a physical wall, crushing the air from my lungs. My vision began to dim. Through the panic of the nurses, my phone on the tray began to ring. A nurse, frantic, swiped it open and hit speakerphone. Jack’s voice came through, sounding annoyed. “Nadine, where the hell are you? Why aren’t you home?” The doctor barked into the phone: “Is this Nadine’s husband? Your wife is currently undergoing an emergency procedure at the medical center and is hemorrhaging severely. You need to get here immediately!” Silence fell over the line for a heartbeat. “Nadine…? What do you mean hemorrhaging? What happened?” Jack’s voice finally cracked with panic. “I’m getting in the car right now! Tell her to hold on!” His desperation gave me a fleeting anchor of consciousness. But five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. The cold was seeping into my bones. My body felt weightless. Just as I felt myself slipping under, the phone rang again. The nurse answered. This time, Jack’s voice was filled with a frantic, frustrated helplessness. “Nadine, I’m so sorry! There’s a massive pileup on the bridge. Traffic is completely gridlocked. Just hang on, please! As soon as the lanes open up, I’m coming!” The call disconnected. I lay there, a final, cold clarity washing over me. He was lying. The clinic was barely two miles from our house. There was no bridge between here and there. Due to the critical blood loss, they rushed me onto a gurney to transfer me to the main emergency room. I stared at the ceiling tiles flying past, gasping for air, feeling my life slowly draining away with every beat of my heart. The double doors of the ER lobby burst open. As the gurney screeched to a halt, I turned my head slightly. And there, standing in the middle of the crowded waiting room, was Jack. He was holding Melanie in his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass. Melanie was whimpering, holding up a finger adorned with a tiny pink band-aid. “It hurts so much, Jack…” Jack’s face was a mask of sheer panic as he yelled at a passing nurse. “Someone look at her hand! She cut herself while slicing fruit! It’s bleeding!” My gurney jolted forward, the paramedics pushing through the crowd. “Make way! Critical hemorrhage! Trauma room one!” The shouting caught Jack’s attention. He turned, looking in our direction. But he didn’t recognize me. He didn’t see the woman covered in blood as his wife. Instead, his brow furrowed in distaste, and he quickly pulled Melanie back several steps, shielding her face. “Don’t look, babe,” I heard him whisper, his voice carrying over the din. “It’s too graphic. It’ll upset you and the baby.” As the heavy doors of the trauma room swung shut and the harsh surgical lights blinded my eyes, I closed them. And in that quiet, freezing dark, the Nadine who had loved Jack for ten years finally died. ### Chapter 2 The medical team fought for four hours to pull me back from the edge. By the time the anesthesia began to wear off, my phone was blowing up with missed calls and texts from Jack. “Nadine, the clinic said you had a hemorrhage? What the hell is going on?” “Answer me, Nadine. Are you okay?” I stared at the screen, my expression flat. I didn’t reply. Half an hour later, another text arrived. “An emergency came up at the firm. I have to fly out of state for a couple of days. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. Take care of yourself.” An emergency. Before I could even lock my phone, a message from Melanie popped up. “Hey girl! My fiancé is throwing me an engagement party tomorrow! You absolutely have to come!” Attached was a digital invitation. Emblazoned in elegant silver script were the names: “Jackie & Melanie”. The “emergency” he had to fly out for was his own engagement party to another woman. For the rest of the day, Jack’s calls and texts were relentless. “Nadine, what is this attitude?” “I am incredibly busy right now. Can you please stop throwing tantrums?” I muted his notifications. I didn’t offer a single word. The next evening, I discharged myself from the hospital. I spent an hour doing my makeup to cover the hollow, bloodless pale of my skin. I put on a sharp, floor-length black silk dress, slipped the signed divorce papers into my bag, and headed to the venue. Just outside the private club, I texted Melanie. “I’m here. I’m wearing a black dress.” Melanie replied instantly: “Come on up! We’re in VIP Suite 8!” I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the suite. The room was loud, filled with laughter and the clinking of expensive crystal. At the head of the long table, Melanie caught sight of me. Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, you’re finally here!” She beamed, pulling Jack up by his arm. “Babe, let me introduce you. This is the amazing girl I told you about from the resale app!” Jack turned, a polite, practiced host’s smile on his face. But the moment our eyes met, his smile shattered. His hand seized, and his champagne flute slipped through his fingers, crashing onto the hardwood floor.

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High society is built on a scaffolding of silent, suffocating rules. When we walked out of the boutique, Willie strode shoulder-to-shoulder with my best friend, Cathy, while I was expected to walk exactly half a step behind him. “Willie, you promised you’d charter a private jet to take me to see the Northern Lights. Don’t you dare back out!” Cathy turned back, flashing me a sweet, dimpled grin. “Don’t worry, Zoey. I know how much you love the auroras. I’ll take tons of photos and send them right to you.” My feet froze on the pavement. My throat felt as if it were stuffed with dry cotton. “You two are going to see the Northern Lights… but what about me?” No one answered. They were already in the car. Cathy sat in the passenger seat of his low-slung Ferrari, looking at me with faux-contrition. “Oh, Willie, your sports car only has two seats! There’s no room for Zoey. What should we do?” Willie leaned over to click Cathy’s seatbelt into place. “She’s the future Mrs. Hogan. My mother is sending a town car to pick her up for her deportment class.” But he had forgotten—or ignored—the fact that his mother despised my working-class roots. There was no town car coming. I stood in the freezing rain for hours, waiting. And as the water soaked through my thin coat, something shifted inside me. If he wanted to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with my best friend, then I would simply step out of the frame and let her have him. … When I finally got back to our penthouse that night, Willie was sitting in the living room, waiting. “You skipped your etiquette lessons at the estate today. Mother is furious.” I said nothing. I just flipped on the light. His eyes swept over my dripping wet clothes, his brow furrowing. “Look at you. You’re a mess. Is this how the future Mrs. Hogan behaves? You have no sense of decorum.” I had been standing in a downpour all day. My skin was burning with a high fever, yet his only concern was that I was embarrassing him. “Willie…” I started, my voice cracking. But before I could finish, his phone chimed. It was a high-pitched, childish ringtone—a nursery rhyme melody. It was Cathy’s custom ringtone. Three days ago, when she had whined and begged him to set it, Willie had scoffed and called it childish. Yet, he had never changed it back. Willie raised a finger to his lips, signaling me to shut up. “Willie,” Cathy whimpered on the other end, her voice thick with tears. “I cut my finger. It hurts so bad.” He immediately grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack. “Hang tight. I’m on my way.” As he brushed past me, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. My voice was a dry rasp. “I have a fever, Willie.” He paused, pulling out his phone to make a quick call. “Have Dr. Gallagher head over to the penthouse. The future Mrs. Hogan is sick.” I bit my lip, a faint warmth blooming in my chest. But a second later, Willie gently but firmly pried my fingers off his sleeve. “I’ve got the doctor and my assistant on the way to look after you. But Cathy needs me right now.” I stared at him, numb. “Willie, I am your fiancée.” “I know,” he said, his expression flat. “Which is exactly why I can’t stay.” “A Hogan man is meant to rule the boardroom, not play nurse to a sick wife. You know the family rules.” Always those rules. To marry Willie, I had to mold myself into a ghost. At dinner, I had to wait for him to take the first bite. The moment he set his fork down, I had to stop eating too. In the beginning, when I lay awake at night, starving, Willie would sneak into my room with takeout, wrapping his arms around me. ‘Just bear with it a little longer, for me,’ he’d whisper. I bore it. For three years. But those sweet midnight visits had long since stopped. When I lay awake starving now, Willie was thousands of miles away. His Instagram location tag was set to a luxury resort in Malaysia. So was Cathy’s—my best friend of ten years. Cathy had posted a photo of the two of them on her feed. The caption read: ‘Day one of testing out Willie’s husband potential on behalf of my girl Zoey.’ Beneath it, she added: ‘I mentioned wanting to see the ocean, and he whisked me away to paradise.’ My phone buzzed. It was a direct message from Cathy: ‘Zoey, it’s my first time seeing the ocean! It’s so beautiful. I know you always wanted an island wedding, but with the strict Hogan rules, you probably won’t ever get to come here. Don’t worry, though—I’m enjoying the view for both of us!’ In the photo she attached, Cathy wore a flowing white sundress. Willie stood beside her in a tailored white linen suit. It wasn’t a wedding, but it looked exactly like one. And while they were sipping cocktails on a beach, I had been standing in his mother’s salon, a heavy book balanced on my head, my palms raw and bruised from the wooden ruler his mother used to correct my posture. During a brief five-minute break, I had pulled out my phone, desperate to cry to my fiancé about how much I hurt. Instead, I saw their vacation photos. The words ‘it hurts’ died in my throat. Every time after that, he chose her. When Cathy wanted to travel the world, Willie booked the flights. When Willie wanted to drag race down dark coastal highways at midnight, Cathy was the one laughing in his passenger seat. They lived out a wild, reckless youth together, singing at the top of their lungs to heal their phantom regrets. Meanwhile, I was kneeling on the cold marble floor of the Hogan private chapel, reciting their ancestral codes of conduct over and over, terrified of making a single mistake. I wasn’t blind. I knew something was deeply wrong, but I had been too afraid to look closer. How do you throw away a twenty-year friendship and a seven-year relationship? But tonight, the thread finally snapped. I stared at Willie’s retreating back, my eyes burning. “If you walk out that door to go to Cathy, we’re over.” Willie stopped in his tracks, his shoulders stiffening. “What is wrong with you? Don’t start throwing tantrums.” “I’m doing this for you. Cathy is your best friend. If something happens to her, won’t you be the one crying?” But they had crossed the line of friendship a long time ago. Willie still didn’t understand. I wasn’t angry because he was helping Cathy; I was angry because, in every single moment that mattered, he never chose me. The passenger seat next to him always belonged to her. I looked at him, my voice barely a whisper. “So you can’t stay to take care of your sick fiancée, but you can run to take care of her?” “Why are you comparing yourself to her?” Willie said, his tone entirely reasonable, as if explaining something to a child. “You’re going to be Mrs. Hogan. She is just a friend. The family rules don’t apply to friends.” If being “just a friend” meant receiving your devotion and protection, then I would rather be your friend. But I wasn’t. I lowered my head, hiding the raw vulnerability in my eyes. “If that’s how you see it… then go.” “Being understanding is the grace expected of a Hogan wife,” Willie remarked, offering his usual critique. As he opened the door, he looked back one last time. “Dr. Gallagher is the family’s private physician. He’s the best there is. A minor fever is nothing to him. You’re in good hands.” I gave a faint nod, silent. He took my quietness as stubbornness and let out a cold laugh. “You still haven’t learned your place, have you? To think you’re actually giving me attitude. I’ll have Mother give you a proper lesson tomorrow.” There wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Willie, the moment your foot crossed that threshold, we were done. I opened my mouth to say it, but the elevator doors had already slid shut, whisking him away. I let the words dissolve. It didn’t matter anymore. I called Dr. Gallagher and told him not to bother coming. I found some generic ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet, swallowed them with cold water, and dragged myself into a hot shower. When I came out, my phone was buzzing on the counter. It was a text from Cathy: ‘Zoey, I am so incredibly jealous of your fiancé! By the time he got here, the scratch on my finger was already scabbing over, but he was still so worried that he practically dragged me to the ER anyway.’ A sharp, physical pain bloomed in my chest. My fever was a “minor illness,” but her tiny scratch deserved an emergency room run. Quiet tears slipped down my face. I wiped them away with the back of my hand. Cutting out infected flesh is always agonizing, but I didn’t have another seven years to waste on a man who didn’t love me. I pulled a suitcase out of the closet and began to pack. It took less than ten minutes. The penthouse held almost nothing of mine. Willie had always told me: ‘You are going to be Mrs. Hogan. The family’s legacy has no room for cheap, unrefined trinkets from your past.’ Yet, on his nightstand sat a cheap plastic bunny Cathy had bought him at a dollar store. Hanging from his Ferrari key fob was a tacky two-dollar keychain she had given him. Only my gifts—like the intricate, hand-woven cord bracelet I had spent days making—had been taken off his wrist and left to gather dust in a drawer. I grabbed the bracelet and threw it into the fireplace, watching the threads blacken and curl into ash. Beside the jewelry box was the cherrywood charm I had hand-carved. The year he went to London for his MBA, I couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from him. There was a trend on campus back then—gifting a ‘bleeding heart’ charm, a hollowed-out wooden cube with a single red seed sealed inside, symbolizing a love carved deep into the bone. I had spent nights sanding that tiny piece of wood, my fingertips raw and bleeding, just to hollow it out and slip a single scarlet seed inside. When Willie received it, he had nearly cried. ‘Zoey, if you don’t want me to go, I won’t.’ And he didn’t. He stayed, while I worked three different part-time jobs, running myself ragged trying to keep us afloat. Cathy had sipped her iced coffee, offering with a sweet smile, “I’ll look after him for you, Zoey. I won’t let any social climbers get close to him.” I had believed her. Back in the orphanage, when the older kids used to bully me, Cathy was the only one who stood up for me. She would take the punches, her face bruised and swollen, but she never let go of me. When we aged out, I worked double shifts to pay for our apartment and college tuition. Willie had scoffed back then. ‘Is Cathy helpless? She’s a grown woman—can’t she take care of herself?’ ‘Don’t talk about her like that!’ I had snapped back. ‘I promised I would take care of her forever. Even if she never gets a job, I’ll support her.’ Back then, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world to have them both. But in the end, the two people I would have died for were the ones who stabbed me in the back. I threw the carved cherrywood charm into the trash can. I was throwing them away, too. When I changed, I didn’t touch any of the designer clothes Willie had bought me. Instead, I pulled out an old flannel shirt and a faded pair of jeans from the back of the closet—the exact clothes I had been wearing the day I moved in. I looked at the suitcase. It was completely empty. After a moment of silence, I shoved the suitcase back into the closet. I walked out of the penthouse carrying nothing but the battered backpack I had arrived with. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Willie: ‘Family dinner tomorrow night. Don’t leave after your etiquette class. I’ll have the driver pick you up to get your hair and makeup done.’ I stared at the screen, hesitating, before typing back: ‘Can you transfer me five thousand dollars?’ The day I became his fiancée, Willie’s mother had declared that a Hogan woman does not work in public. I was forced to quit my job. Worried about Cathy’s living expenses, I had given her every penny of my savings. When Willie found out, he had handed me a black card linked to his account. ‘From now on, use your husband’s money for whatever you want.’ Back then, I had been deeply moved. I never realized that once we broke up, I wouldn’t even have enough money to rent a basic apartment. Within seconds, Willie replied: ‘1’. But no money was transferred. I stared at the screen, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. I realized that for months, no matter what I texted him, Willie always replied with a simple, automated ‘1’. It meant ‘read.’ He saw the notifications, but he never actually read the words. A dull ache throbbed in my chest. I typed again: ‘I’ll sign a promissory note. Please, just lend me five thousand dollars. I really need it.’ Willie’s reply was instant: ‘1’. I stared at that single digit. A self-deprecating laugh escaped me. Cathy used to gush about it. ‘He replies instantly, Zoey! A man in his position—whose time is literally worth millions—drops everything to answer you. That is true love!’ But he never gave me anything besides that automated response. He saved his actual time, his actual presence, for her. With trembling fingers, I sent one last text: ‘My mistake, Willie. I’ll never ask you for anything again.’ This time, the reply wasn’t a ‘1’. He texted: ‘I’m at the hospital waiting on Cathy’s x-ray results. Can you please stop suffocating me?’ Fine. I wouldn’t suffocate him anymore. Never again. With no money for a hotel, I walked down to the public park, curling up on a cold wooden bench with my backpack as a pillow. In the shivering dark, memories of the day I was abandoned at the orphanage drifted back. It had been an overcast day just like this one. I could still hear my father shouting at my mother: ‘If we don’t dump this useless girl, how are we supposed to afford a son?’ My mother had been sobbing, but she still let go of my hand and left me on the orphanage steps. Watching her walk away, I had sworn to myself that I would make them regret it. I studied until my eyes bled. I worked until my bones ached. I did everything to prove I wasn’t useless. But look at me tonight. A park security guard tapped my bench with his flashlight. “No sleeping on the benches, miss. Move along.” I scrambled up, heat burning my cheeks. I looked down at my faded jeans and worn sneakers. You failed, Zoey. You’re right back where you started. As I stumbled out of the park gates, I ran right into them. Cathy was clinging to Willie’s arm, whispering something that made him chuckle. The moment Willie saw me, the smile died on his face. “Zoey?” Cathy waved excitedly. “Willie told me you had a fever! I bought a fresh durian from the market—I know how much you love it. We were just heading to the penthouse to see you. What a coincidence!” My lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Are you sure I’m the one who loves durian?” Cathy was the picky eater. She loved exotic durian. Back in college, when we had no money, I would skip meals for a week just to buy her one because she said she was craving it. I did it every single time, even if it meant living on dry ramen for days. Cathy pouted, her eyes welling with instant tears. “Zoey, you’ve changed. You never used to speak to me like that. Back then, when you bought me durian, I knew you wanted some too, but you always insisted on giving me the whole thing. Now that I have my own money, of course I wanted to buy one for you.” Willie chimed in, his voice dripping with pride. “Cathy took over your old position at the firm, Zoey. She’s a completely independent, modern career woman now.” “She took over my old position?” I stared at him, hollowed out by the betrayal. “You forced me to resign so I could learn Hogan etiquette, but you hand-delivered my job to her?” “Is there a problem with that?” Willie stepped protectively in front of Cathy. “You’re going to be my wife. You don’t need a job. But Cathy does—she doesn’t have anyone else to protect her. I pulled some strings at your old agency, handed them a few major accounts, and got her the Creative Director position you had to turn down.” Cathy smiled sweetly, stepping around Willie to loop her arm through mine. “Honestly, Zoey, you are so lucky. You get to be a lady of leisure while someone else pays for your entire life.” Her voice held a thin, sharp edge of jealousy. “Unlike me. I actually have to work for what I want.” I looked at her, quiet for a long moment. “You’re wrong,” I whispered. “A man who truly loves you doesn’t clip your wings. He helps you fly.” Just like Willie had done for Cathy. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a cruel whisper against my ear. “And what do you call a woman who stays in a house where she isn’t loved? A mistress?” The slap echoed in the quiet street before I even realized my hand had moved. “Cathy! We can stop being friends, but how dare you—” How dare she desecrate twenty years of shared history! I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. Black spots danced across my vision. Cathy collapsed onto the pavement, her hand landing squarely on the spiky husk of the durian. She let out a sharp cry of pain, immediately looking up at Willie with tear-filled eyes. “Willie, please… it’s just a little blood. Don’t be mad at Zoey. She didn’t mean it.” Willie’s face darkened instantly. He knelt down and scooped her into his arms. “Okay, okay, I won’t. Let’s get you to the hospital.” As he turned to leave, he barked an order to the security detail trailing behind him. “Take Zoey back to the estate. Lock her in the reflection room until she learns some goddamn discipline.” The reflection room was a windowless, cramped panic room in the basement of the Hogan manor, barely large enough for a person to curl up in. Once the heavy steel door was locked, there was nothing but suffocating darkness. During my years of being molded by Willie’s mother, I had been locked in here for days at a time. But I wasn’t Willie’s fiancée anymore. What right did he have to imprison me? I hammered on the cold steel door until my knuckles bled, drifting in and out of a feverish consciousness. But Willie never came. I bit my cracked lip, tasting copper. “Willie… please. I have a fever. Let me out.” From the other side of the door, a guard sighed. “Save your breath, miss. Mr. Willie took Miss Cathy on a private flight to Norway. He’s trying to make up for her hand injury by showing her the Northern Lights.” I froze. With trembling fingers, I pulled my phone from my pocket. In the dim blue glow of the screen, Cathy’s Instagram post loaded: ‘A trip just for me. Private jet, endless skies. Heading to see the auroras with the man who ruins me.’ The comments underneath were filled with congratulations from our mutual friends. ‘Willie taking his girl out again!’ ‘One at home, one on the road—how do you pull this off, man?’ ‘What do you mean ‘on the road’? Willie and Cathy are the real deal. I heard they’re planning to get their marriage license soon while the other one is still stuck in deportment class.’ My heart felt like it was being shredded. I dialed one of those mutual friends. “What do you mean, getting a license?” The girl on the line gasped. “Zoey? You… you saw her post? Did she forget to block you? Look, we didn’t want to keep you in the dark, but you’ve been “learning the rules” for three years. Everyone figured if you found out Willie was going to marry Cathy instead, you’d make a scene.” A yawning chasm opened up in my chest. “How long?” I managed to choke out. “How long has it been going on?” There was a pause on the other end. “Three years? Maybe four? Honestly, we lost track.” While I was working myself to the bone, giving Cathy every cent I had so she wouldn’t suffer, she was sleeping with my fiancé behind my back. Hot tears spilled over, stinging the cuts on my raw hands. The seven years of devotion, the humiliating etiquette classes, the endless sacrifices… they were all a joke. Willie, you ruined me. My phone battery died, plunging the room into absolute pitch black. I pulled my knees to my chest, sobbing until my throat was raw, eventually slipping into unconsciousness. When I finally woke up, I had lost all sense of time. My stomach was cramping violently from hunger. Over the last three years, I had learned to ignore hunger. But this pain was different—sharp, white-hot. Cold sweat drenched my clothes, leaving me unable to make a sound. Suddenly, the heavy steel door screeched open. Bright light flooded my eyes. I squinted, shielding my face as Willie stormed in, grabbing my arm and wrenching me to my feet. “Zoey! When the hell did you become a thief? Is this the kind of trash my mother is trying to turn into a Hogan?” I gritted my teeth against the pain in my stomach, barely whispering, “What… what are you talking about?” He sneered, shoving his hand into my jeans pocket and pulling out a small plastic card. “This is Cathy’s debit card! She saved her very first paycheck to buy you a nice gift, and you stole it from her!” “I didn’t,” I sobbed, shaking my head weakly. “I don’t even know her PIN.” Willie let out a harsh laugh. “Her PIN is your birthday, Zoey. It wasn’t hard to figure out.” Cathy slinked into the room behind him, looking small and helpless. “Willie, please, I’m sure Zoey didn’t mean to. Don’t be too hard on her. She must have been desperate when she asked you for money. Since you were with me and didn’t see her texts, she probably just… panicked and made a mistake.” Hearing her words, Willie’s rage flared even hotter. “I gave you a black card! Was that not enough? You had to go and steal the money Cathy worked so hard to earn?” He let go of my arm with an expression of deep disgust. “When did you become so pathetic, Zoey?” I gritted my teeth, forcing the words out. “I didn’t steal it. She must have slipped it into my pocket when we were at the park.” “Enough!” Willie barked. “Kneel down and apologize to Cathy right now, or I will have the police arrest you. Once you have a criminal record, you can forget about ever marrying into this family.” I collapsed back onto the floor, coughing violently as my stomach cramped. “I didn’t do it. I will never apologize.” I looked up at him, my eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “I don’t want to marry you anymore, Willie. Your threats don’t work on me.” For a fraction of a second, he looked stung, taking a step back. Cathy burst into noisy tears. “Please, stop! You two are the most important people in my life. Don’t fight over me!” Willie’s expression hardened again. He turned to his guards. “Take her to the police station.” The guards grabbed my arms, dragging me down the cold stone corridor. As we reached the grand entrance of the Hogan estate, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb. A man stepped out. It was him. With every ounce of strength left in my feverish body, I wrenched myself free from the guards’ grip. I fell to the ground, reaching out to grasp the hem of his dark trousers. “I’ll marry you,” I gasped, my voice raw. “Please, save me.” I couldn’t go to prison. I couldn’t let them ruin my life. Willie came rushing out of the double doors. “Have you finally decided to apologize to Cathy?” But the man didn’t look at Willie. Instead, he bent down, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. His gaze flicked up, locking onto Willie’s stunned face. “Have you forgotten how to greet your older brother, Willie? Or do you not know how to address your sister-in-law?”

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My girlfriend, who used to pinch every single penny as if her life depended on it, threw a black card with four million dollars on it directly at my face on the eve of our college graduation. Ida snuggled into Chase’s arms, her tone venomous and mocking. “Let me tell you the truth, Alex. I was never poor. Playing broke, pretending to be sick—it was all just a game to see how low you’d crawl for me.” “But I’m bored now. And I have Chase.” She tossed the card, a sharp smirk cutting across her face. “Four million dollars. To buy out the last four years of your life. That should be more than enough, right?” A wave of cruel laughter erupted around us. “God, this is hilarious. Ida played the pauper for four years, and he didn’t suspect a thing?” “How could he? When Ida said she couldn’t afford dinner, he literally ate dry toast for a week just to buy her medicine. When she said she was sick, he went and sold his plasma.” “The absolute funniest part? He was working four different part-time jobs last week to buy her a birthday present. Almost fainted in a convenience store from sheer exhaustion.” “A nobody like him actually thought his cheap, pathetic love could buy his way into a billionaire’s family?” Everyone in the room knew I’d been Ida’s plaything for four years. They were waiting for my breakdown. They wanted to see me weep, to watch me beg her on my knees like a dog. Instead, I simply leaned down, picked up the card, and looked up at her with a quiet smile. “Four million dollars for four years. That’s a million a year. Quite the bargain.” After all, during those four years, my love for Ida Douglas hadn’t even been worth two cents. … 1 “If that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave.” I pocketed the card and turned to walk away. But before I could take a single step, Catherine, one of Ida’s inner circle, blocked my path. “Oh, come on, Alex. Don’t act so high and mighty. You snatched that card pretty fast. I know your type—pretending to be tough during the breakup, only to go home and cry your eyes out.” Catherine sneered, her eyes dripping with condescension. “If you’re really that desperate, just bow your head and apologize to Ida right now. Maybe if she’s in a good mood, she’ll keep you around as a sidepiece.” “Though don’t expect a title,” another friend chimed in, throwing a suggestive look at Chase. “Chase is the official boyfriend now. You? You’re just the discarded stray.” Chase wrapped his arm tighter around Ida’s waist, offering a faux-sympathetic sigh. “Hey, guys, go easy on Alex. He’s sensitive. He can’t handle this kind of heat.” The room roared with laughter. I looked at them, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “Are you done?” “If you’re done, get out of my way.” The air in the room instantly chilled. Ida finally looked at me, her eyes filled with cold, superior judgment. “Alex, who are you putting on this show for?” “Do you think by taking the money and pretending you don’t care, I’ll respect you?” “I know exactly who you are.” “You’re hopelessly in love with me. Without me, you won’t survive three days.” I looked up, meeting her gaze calmly. “Really?” “Then you clearly don’t realize how cheap your own affection actually is.” Ida’s face hardened instantly. The room fell into a dead silence before erupting into chaos. “Is he insane? Did he actually just speak to Ida like that?” “He just got dumped and he’s still acting tough?” “Fine,” Catherine scoffed, clapping her hands to stoke the flames. “Let’s place a bet. How long until Alex comes crawling back to Ida, begging for a second chance?” “I bet three days.” “Two days.” “I say tonight. A parasite like him won’t survive the night.” “He’ll probably be crying over his phone on the way home, drafting a ten-page essay about how much he misses her.” “Or begging Chase on his knees to let him have her back, haha!” Laughter filled the room. Catherine turned to Ida. “Ida, what’s your bet?” Ida stared at me with absolute certainty, her eyes filled with the mockery of a master looking at a dog trying to escape its leash. Finally, she let out a harsh laugh. “By tomorrow night, at the latest.” “He will be back, begging me.” It was as if my four years of quiet devotion, compromise, and sacrifice were nothing more than her favorite trophies. Catherine smirked, tilting her chin at me. “Hear that? Ida has spoken.” “So, Alex, why don’t you tell us? When are you planning to bow your head?” Every eye in the room was on me. Mocking, patronizing, waiting for a pathetic display of desperation. I remained quiet for two seconds, feeling the crisp edge of my approved study-abroad application in my pocket. Suddenly, I smiled. “How about I make a bet of my own?” “On what?” Catherine asked, caught off guard. I looked up, my eyes sweeping across every face in the room, finally locking onto Ida. “I bet that for the rest of my life, I will never look back at her again.” 2 Four years ago, when I got accepted into Hudson University, I couldn’t even afford the tuition. When I was at my absolute lowest, Mrs. Douglas approached me. She had only one condition—get close to Ida, keep an eye on her, and make sure she finished her four years of college without causing any scandals. Now, the four years were up. The five million dollars Mrs. Douglas promised had been wired to my account right on schedule. Combine that with the four million Ida had just thrown at me, and I had more than enough to leave the country and build the life I actually wanted. When my words fell, the room went dead silent for a moment. Then, Catherine let out a loud laugh. “Listen to him! ‘For the rest of his life.’ Alex, you really talk a big game.” Ida stared at me, her eyes dark and menacing. She let out a cold laugh. “Fine.” “Alex, remember what you just said.” She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only I could hear. “I hope you don’t come back crawling on your knees.” I looked at her and smiled. “Don’t worry. Even if you were the one begging on your knees, I wouldn’t spare you a second glance.” Ida’s face flushed with fury, her anger barely contained. “Get out.” Without another word, I turned and walked away. But I knew this wasn’t over. A pampered princess like Ida couldn’t stand being humiliated in public by someone she believed was beneath her. The retaliation began the very next morning. The owner of the convenience store where I had just resigned called me. He accused me of theft out of nowhere, using it as an excuse to withhold my last two weeks of pay. Rumors began spreading across campus. People said I had been freeloading off Ida while hunting for other rich targets, calling me a “high-end gold digger” with a price tag. Someone even dug up old photos of me—donating plasma at the clinic, working graveyard shifts at the convenience store, handing out flyers in front of clubs—and compiled them into a malicious collage on the university forum. The headline was vicious: [The Rich-Girl Hunter’s Playbook: How a Broke Scholar Faked Innocence and Played the Victim for Four Years] The post went viral overnight. The comments section was flooded with mockery and disgust. “No wonder Ida dumped him once she got bored. She saw right through him.” “Why is he still acting proud? He’s trash to the bone.” “I heard he’s trying to study abroad? Laughable. Who’s he trying to con next?” My phone buzzed. I looked down. It was a message from Ida. “Did you see the post?” I didn’t reply. A second later, another notification popped up. “Chase’s ideas really do work wonders.” “How does it feel? Being called a parasite and a gold digger by the entire school. Not so great, is it?” My eyes lingered on the words “Chase’s ideas really do work wonders,” a dull ache blooming in my chest. Not from heartbreak, but from the sheer exhaustion of having my dignity trampled. Before I could close the app, more texts poured in. “If you apologize to me right now—on your knees in front of my friends—and agree to be my little secret on the side…” “I might consider having the post taken down.” I stared at the screen and let out a soft, humorless laugh. Then, I took a screenshot. Ida wanted me to regret. She wanted me cornered, desperate, until I had no choice but to beg her. Unfortunately for her, she had miscalculated. I closed the forum app and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Mrs. Douglas,” I said when the call connected. “Our deal was for me to play the dutiful boyfriend for four years. It didn’t include cleaning up your daughter’s petty messes.” “Now she’s coming after my reputation.” “How do you plan to handle this?” 3 Mrs. Douglas’s voice came through the line, cool and detached. “I don’t.” I froze. “Alex, your money has been transferred. Our contract is officially over.” “The forum, the rumors… they are nothing but temporary noise.” “For the past four years, you stayed by Ida’s side. To put it nicely, it was a transaction. To put it harshly, I paid for a well-behaved watchdog.” I remained silent. She didn’t care about my silence, adding in her characteristically flat tone, “A stray is still a stray, even if you pave its path with gold. Alex, you should know that better than anyone.” With that, she hung up. The sharp, empty dial tone rang in my ear. I stood there for a long time before slowly lowering the phone. For the next two days, I barely left my apartment. I organized my documents, checked the status of my passport and visa, and quietly transferred my funds to my new offshore account in Scandinavia. I also finalized the last draft of my personal statement with my senior, Tyler. On the third night, I headed to a quiet bar near campus to meet him. Tyler texted me that he was stuck in traffic and told me to grab a table first. But the moment I walked through the door, I ran straight into Ida and her entourage. Catherine was the first to spot me. She immediately raised her voice, laughing. “Well, look who it is! Isn’t this Alex? Didn’t you say you’d never look back for the rest of your life? Regretting it already?” The eyes of everyone in the private booth turned to me. Ida sat in the center of the plush leather sofa, draped over Chase. When her eyes met mine, a flicker of smug satisfaction crossed her face. “Come here,” she said, gesturing with her chin. She pushed a row of shot glasses across the table toward me. “Drink these.” “Do it, and I’ll take you back. I’ll even have the forum posts deleted.” My voice was flat. “I’m not here for you.” A chorus of sneers erupted from the booth. “Not here for Ida? What, did you just happen to wander in?” “Who are you trying to fool, Alex?” Chase tightened his grip on Ida’s waist and smiled condescendingly. “Hey, man, if you want to apologize, just say the word. Ida’s tough on the outside, but if you show some humility, she won’t keep holding a grudge.” Catherine smirked from the side. “Ida’s throwing you a lifeline and you’re still playing hard to get? Who do you think you are?” Others joined in: “Your reputation is already trashed on the forum. Stop pretending you have dignity left.” Chase sighed, a look of faux pity on his face. “Alex, Ida’s being incredibly generous here. With your name dragged through the mud like this, who else would ever want you?” I didn’t want to waste another breath. I turned to leave. But a second later, a hand clamped tightly around my wrist. Ida stood up, stepping directly into my personal space. Her eyes were dark, burning with a volatile mixture of anger and possession. “Alex, have you forgotten where you came from?” she whispered, her voice dropping to a menacing, freezing register. “Selling plasma, working graveyard shifts, hand-delivering flyers in the freezing cold… you were so broke you couldn’t even pay your tuition.” She stared into my eyes. “A guy like you would sell his own life for a buck. And now you’re pretending you’re too good for a few drinks?” The booth erupted into cruel laughter. “A table of drinks is probably worth half his life, anyway!” “Maybe just one glass!” I looked at her, finding the entire spectacle incredibly pathetic. “Are you finished?” I asked quietly. “If you are, let me go.” Those words shattered her remaining restraint. The last drop of Ida’s composure snapped. She grabbed a glass of whiskey from the table and threw it directly into my face. 4 The icy liquid splashed over my hair and ran down my neck, soaking my collar in an instant. Before I could wipe it away, a second and third glass followed. The sting of alcohol burned my eyes, making them water. Chase feigned alarm, whispering, “Ida, stop, he can’t handle this…” Yet, despite his words, he handed her another glass, the triumph in his eyes entirely undisguised. “Alex, why be so stubborn? Just apologize, and it all ends.” Catherine was thoroughly enjoying herself. “What’s the fun in just splashing him? Since he won’t drink, let’s just hold him down and pour it down his throat!” Before I could react, someone grabbed my wrists from behind. Another pair of hands shoved my shoulders down, forcing me to my knees. My knees hit the hard floor with a dull thud, and a sharp pain shot up my leg. “Let me go—” I was cut off as someone yanked my hair back, forcing my head up. Ida gripped my jaw, her fingers digging in so hard I felt my bones would crack. “You won’t drink?” she hissed, her voice trembling with cold rage. “Alex, let’s see how tough you really are.” I clenched my teeth, refusing to make a sound. As I struggled, my messenger bag slipped from my shoulder, spilling its contents across the floor. An official document slid right next to Ida’s boots, its corner quickly soaking up the spilled alcohol. The bold letters at the top were unmistakable: “International Research Program Application” Ida’s eyes flickered. She looked down, her brows knitting together in sudden confusion. But before she could process what she was seeing, Chase quickly bent down, picking up the paper and sliding it under an empty glass. “Still carrying your homework to a bar? How studious,” Chase joked smoothly, effortlessly diverting everyone’s attention. Catherine laughed. “Typical. Always trying to look like the perfect student.” A strange, fleeting sense of unease washed over Ida. But it was quickly swallowed by her anger. Catherine handed her a freshly opened bottle of hard liquor, her eyes wide with excitement. “Ida, don’t tell me you’re getting soft on him?” Ida’s grip tightened around my throat, cutting off my breath for a terrifying second. “Soft? For a street dog like him? Please.” With a cruel glint in her eyes, she forced my jaw open and began pouring the strong liquor down my throat. The burning liquid choked my lungs, searing its way down to my stomach. Tears streamed down my face. She didn’t stop. Her hand on my throat tightened further, her voice shaking with a manic intensity. “Keep pouring.” “I want to see how long he can keep up this act.” As the alcohol kept flooding in, my vision began to fade to black. My strength dissolved, and I stopped fighting. Through the haze, I could hear their laughter, their jeers, and Chase’s soft, mocking voice: “Don’t be so stubborn, Alex.” To them, I was nothing more than an object to be played with, a stray to be kicked into the dirt. Suddenly, the heavy door of the booth was shoved open. “Get off him!” Tyler rushed in, his face pale with fury. He threw himself over me, shielding me from the group. “Are you all insane? This is assault!” Ida’s hand froze. Taking advantage of the momentary shock, Tyler hauled me up from the floor. I could barely stand. My wet hair clung to my face, and I trembled as I tried to draw a breath. “I’ve recorded everything that just happened,” Tyler barked, glaring at the room. “If anyone touches him again, I’m calling the police.” The room went dead silent. Ida stood frozen, her expression dark and unreadable, but she didn’t try to stop us. Tyler supported my weight, guiding me toward the exit. As we passed her, I didn’t look at her once. — The next afternoon, after the alcohol had worn off, the image of my pale, lifeless face kept flashing through Ida’s mind. Agitated, she rubbed her temples and finally dialed my number. When the call connected, she kept her voice cold and commanding, as if she were offering a grand favor. “I won’t hold last night against you. Come back, and I’ll have the forum posts taken down.” There was a brief silence on the other end. The voice that answered wasn’t mine. It was the dorm supervisor. “Alex? He moved out yesterday. He cleared out his entire room.” Ida froze, her voice instantly dropping. “What did you say?” “Didn’t he tell you?” the woman asked, confused. “He boarded an early morning flight today. He left the country.”

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My father made five million dollars a month working overseas. My monthly allowance was thirty dollars. My mother claimed she fought tooth and nail to get me more, to the point where they almost divorced over it. My sister, eyes red with tears, would secretly slip me cash under the table—only to be caught and beaten fifty times with the heavy family cane. So, every time hunger clawed at my stomach and my gut twisted in painful spasms, I hated my father. I hated his cold, arbitrary cruelty. I hated that he had brought me into this world only to starve me of both food and love. Then, I received a video call from myself ten years in the future. The moment the screen connected, my heart leaped. “How am I doing in ten years?” I blurted out, unable to contain the hope in my voice. “Did I finally cut that old bastard out of my life?” But the future me on the screen had bloodshot eyes, hollow and burning with a mixture of raw grief and absolute fury. “You idiot,” he rasped, his voice cracking. “That ‘old bastard’ is the only one who ever loved you. When your mother and sister poisoned you and left you in complete kidney failure, he didn’t hesitate for a single second. He gave you his own kidney!” “And to keep them from destroying you further, he signed away his entire net worth just to buy out your relationship with them. After the surgery, he couldn’t even afford a ten-dollar pack of anti-inflammatories. He died of a massive infection, screaming in pain in a cold hospital bed.” I stared at the screen, my breath catching in my throat, paralyzed by disbelief. The future me let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Your $150,000 monthly allowance? They pocketed every single cent except for the thirty dollars they threw at you. The rest went to her secret love child.” “If you don’t believe me, go to the estates at Westwood Heights. See for yourself.” … I went. The midsummer sun beat down mercilessly, baking the asphalt as the security guard stopped me at the iron gates of Westwood Heights. His eyes narrowed with sharp, elitist suspicion. “This is a private community. Who are you looking for?” Clinging to a tiny, desperate shred of hope, I whispered, “I’m looking for Victoria Prescott. I’m her son.” The guard burst out laughing. “Are you out of your mind, kid? Ms. Prescott only has a daughter and a son named Hunter. In fact, she just took him out yesterday to buy him a brand-new phone.” “Where did you crawl out of? Trying to scam your way in?” He tossed a glossy community newsletter onto the marble counter. My blood ran cold. The world tilted on its axis as I looked at the photograph on the page. My mother and sister stood smiling, their arms wrapped affectionately around a teenage boy. I knew him. Hunter Prescott. The golden boy in my class. Two weeks ago, he’d bragged to everyone at school about his parents buying him a custom-built villa in the hills. When asked about the price, Hunter had merely smirked. “Not much. Just around five million.” My thirty-dollar allowance had started the year I entered high school. Three years. Five million a year. My hands shook so violently I could barely grip the paper. When I got home, my mother and Caroline were sitting in the living room. Neither of them noticed the deathly pale color of my face. My mother walked over and handed me a twenty and a ten-dollar bill. “Jesse, here’s your allowance. Your father just wired it. Make sure you stretch it.” I stared at the crumpled cash in my palm, then slowly looked up at her. Her face wore that same familiar expression of maternal pity and tenderness. My eyes burned. A bitter, jagged laugh escaped my throat. “Thirty dollars a month. Do you really want to see me starve that badly?” Her brow furrowed, a flash of annoyance crossing her face. “You know what your father’s temper is like. If I dare ask him for more, he’ll send over another stack of divorce papers.” “Is that so?” I raised my voice, my chest heaving. “Maybe I’ll ask him myself the next time he calls.” Caroline immediately rushed to my side. She smoothed my hair down, gently pressing a hundred-dollar bill into my hand. “I’ll take the blame,” she whispered, giving me a conspiratorial wink. “Just don’t turn on the AC in your bedroom this month. We can pretend we didn’t notice if you sneak it on.” Ever since my father moved to Australia, the house had “rules.” I only had the right to use the electricity and my phone, for which I supposedly owed the household rent. Since I had no money, my usage was restricted to the first and last days of the month. I spent countless sweltering summer nights doing homework in the dark by the weak flashlight of a dying phone, crying as I poured cold water over my head just to lower my body temperature. In the past, Caroline’s hundred dollars would have filled me with intense gratitude. But now, all I could think of was Hunter bragging about his villa’s advanced climate-control system. “It keeps the air at the perfect temperature all year round,” he’d said. His arrogant laugh echoed in my head, sharp and agonizing. I pushed the hundred-dollar bill back into Caroline’s hand, leaving only the thirty dollars. “No thanks,” I said, pronouncing each word with heavy deliberation. “I only want what actually belongs to me.” I walked into my bedroom, grabbed my ID, and headed to the nearest Chase bank branch. “I need a complete statement of all accounts under my name for the past three years.” The printout was hundreds of pages long. I stood in the quiet lobby, going through the ledger page by page. Since my freshman year, at precisely midnight on the first of every month, my father had wired $150,000. Sometimes there were extra deposits, always with notes attached: Happy birthday to my boy. Good luck on exams, buy yourself some extra tutors. Merry Christmas to my favorite son. But within five minutes of arriving, the money was always transferred out in massive, lump-sum withdrawals. Leaving exactly thirty dollars. My throat tightened. I couldn’t breathe. My parents practiced a modern, separate-living arrangement. Caroline took my mother’s surname, Prescott, while I took my father’s, Ellington. Despite this, my mother had always acted like she favored me, constantly telling Caroline she had to sacrifice for her brother. I remembered when I was six and fell critically ill. My mother spent a week on her knees at St. Jude’s Chapel, praying for my recovery. Caroline had sobbed, begging the doctors to take her own organs if it would save my life. That was why I had believed their lies so blindly. Tears fell onto the paper, blurring the printed numbers. I bit my lip to keep from crying out loud, my hands trembling as I carefully packed the statements away. The next day at school, a crowd of students surrounded Hunter’s desk. He was showing off a brand-new, limited-edition phone. “My mom bought it for me the second I asked,” Hunter boasted, his face beaming. “She got a $150,000 commission check yesterday and surprised me with it.” I sat at my desk, quietly chewing on a dry, day-old bagel. On thirty dollars a month, a single dry bagel was the only meal I could guarantee myself each day. Hunter suddenly thrust the phone in front of my face, his eyes glinting with smug satisfaction. “Nice, isn’t it, Jesse?” I looked at the malicious triumph in his eyes and smiled faintly. “Sure. It’s always easy to enjoy things you didn’t have to work for.” A classmate sneered. “Ignore him, Hunter. He’s just broke and bitter because his own parents won’t spend a dime on him.” Hunter laughed magnanimously. “It’s fine. I heard Jesse’s monthly allowance is only thirty bucks. I’d be bitter too.” The classroom erupted into cruel laughter. “Thirty bucks? My dog’s food costs more than that.” “Was he adopted from a shelter?” I didn’t let their jeers get under my skin. I swallowed the last dry crumb of my bagel, stood up, and looked directly into Hunter’s eyes. “You know, yesterday was the first of the month. The day my dad always transfers my allowance.” Hunter blinked, momentarily thrown off. I let out a slow, deliberate smile. “My dad transfers my money, and your mother suddenly gets a massive ‘commission check’ on the exact same day. Funny coincidence, isn’t it?” The color drained from Hunter’s face. Before I could sit down, my homeroom teacher appeared at the door, looking deeply uncomfortable and refusing to meet my eyes. “Jesse… the results for the academic scholarship are in.” My heart sank. I followed him to the principal’s office, where I was informed that my $3,000 scholarship had been reassigned to Hunter—supposedly at my “father’s request.” I didn’t try to argue with the principal’s clumsy lies. I just stared at the certificate on the desk. Three thousand dollars was pocket change to Hunter, but to me, it meant a month of hot meals and a hotel room with working air conditioning. Without saying a word, I reached over and picked up my teacher’s phone from the desk. The principal gasped. “Jesse, what are you doing?” I dialed three digits, my voice perfectly calm. “Calling the police. Even if they’re my family, they don’t have the right to steal my academic merit.” The principal’s face went white. He scrambled for his own phone, frantically dialing. The police arrived within fifteen minutes, closely followed by my mother and sister, who rushed into the office, sweating and breathless. My mother tried to grab my arm. “Jesse, stop this dramatic nonsense. Let’s go home and talk.” I stepped back, out of her reach, and looked at the lead officer. “Officer, I have been severely neglected at home for three years on a thirty-dollar-a-month allowance, and now my guardians have illegally forged my signature to transfer my academic scholarship to another student.” The officer’s face darkened as he turned to my mother and sister. “Are you his legal guardians? Is what he’s saying true?” Caroline tried to smooth things over, but I spoke over her. “Officer, they claim my father authorized all of this.” The officer immediately ordered his partner, “Contact the father and verify this statement.” The blood drained from my mother’s face. She cast a desperate, pleading look at the principal. The principal immediately stepped forward with a nervous laugh. “Officers, this was entirely a clerical error! We are reinstating Jesse’s scholarship immediately. It’s all a big misunderstanding!” Caroline grabbed my hand, her voice softening into a gentle, pleading coo. “Jesse, Dad’s discipline was definitely too harsh, but we’re a family. We shouldn’t air our dirty laundry in public.” My mother nodded frantically, her hands shaking as she pulled out her phone and venmoed me $5,000. “Yes, look, I’m transferring you some emergency funds right now. Your allowance is back to normal, I promise.” Seeing the immediate financial transfer, the officers’ expressions softened, though they still gave my mother and sister a stern lecture about neglect before departing. The ride home was dead silent. My mother’s grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled. The second she pulled into the driveway, she slammed on the brakes, turned around, and glared at me with cold, dark eyes. “You know.” It wasn’t a question. Caroline reached into her designer purse and threw a stack of paper into the backseat. It was my Chase bank statements. “Did you really think your little investigation was a secret, Jesse?” Caroline sneered, her sweet sisterly act completely gone. I bit my tongue, my pale face betraying my fear. My mother let out a cold laugh. “Your father did send more. But we kept it so you wouldn’t squander it. Besides, he’s halfway across the world and doesn’t care about you. Caroline and I are the only ones who actually tolerate you.” Caroline leaned back, looking completely unbothered. “If you think we’re so terrible, go live with your precious dad.” The sheer, burning injustice of it made my eyes sting. According to the future me, they would eventually succeed in completely cutting off my contact with my father, leaving me to die. I swallowed my anger, forcing my voice to tremble with submission. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was wrong.” Seeing me back down, their expressions relaxed. As soon as we walked into the house, I locked myself in my bedroom. I crawled under the bed and reached into the deepest corner, pulling out a broken wooden bracelet my father had given me before he left. The future me had told me: There is an emergency GPS transponder inside. Break it, and it will alert his private security detail. I had smashed it the day of the video call. Now, the tiny green indicator light was flashing. The signal had been received. The next morning, I walked downstairs to find two unfamiliar figures sitting on our velvet sofa. Hunter was sitting next to a middle-aged man who shared his sharp, arrogant features. The man was casually smoking one of my father’s imported Cubans, looking entirely at home. “Pack his things,” the man barked at our maid, not even looking at me. He turned his arrogant gaze toward me and smiled. “My boy likes the natural light. He’s taking your bedroom. You can either move into the school dorms or sleep in the basement. I don’t care which.” My fingers dug into the wooden banister, my chest tight with rage. “This house belongs to my father.” The man didn’t flinch. “Your mother gave me full authority over this estate. If you have an issue, take it up with her.” My mother and sister walked down the stairs, immediately wrapping their arms around the man and calling him “Uncle Greg.” My mother smiled at me, a hollow, plastic expression. “Your uncle is just trying to help you become independent, Jesse. Besides, today is your eighteenth birthday. I brought you a gift.” At her nod, Caroline stepped forward and handed me a thick legal packet. I flipped through the pages, and my vision went blurry. It was an itemized bill for fifteen million dollars. “What is this?” I asked, my voice cracking. “The cost of raising you,” Caroline said, her voice devoid of any warmth. “You carry the Ellington name, not Prescott. It’s only fair that you reimburse us for our expenses.” Hunter leaned over, his eyes wide with greed, before throwing himself into my mother’s arms. “Mom! Is this the fifteen-million-dollar trust fund you promised me for my birthday?” “Yes, sweetheart,” she cooed, stroking his hair. “Exactly that.” She looked back at me, her eyes cold as ice. “I’ll let you pay in installments. I’ll even give you a generous interest rate.” Hunter smirked at me, his eyes gleaming. “You were right, Jesse. It really does feel better when it’s bought with someone else’s money.” The sheer, sickening absurdity of the moment washed over me. I gripped the papers and tore them into shreds, letting the pieces flutter to the floor. “I’m not signing.” The living room went dead silent. Greg’s eyes narrowed, and he gave Hunter’s wrist a sharp nudge. Hunter immediately took the cue, screaming at the top of his lungs, “My phone! My limited-edition phone is gone! Mom, Jesse stole it! He’s jealous of me!” Without a word, my mother dialed a number on her phone. Within ten minutes, three heavily built men in uniform from a notorious “troubled teen” reform school were standing in our foyer. The leader eyed me like a piece of livestock, smiling at my mother. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We specialize in breaking the stubborn ones.” My mother nodded, her eyes completely devoid of maternal warmth. “Keep him as long as you need. Just ensure he stays breathing.” The men lunged forward, grabbing my arms and dragging me toward the door. As they pulled me past my mother and sister, I spat out, “You will regret this. I promise you.” Just as they dragged me to the threshold, the heavy oak front doors were violently kicked open, slamming against the walls. A cold, commanding voice cut through the air. “Victoria, who gave you the authority to send my son to a reform school?!”

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My daughter and I bought a few extra bags of potato chips, so Willie locked us in the basement. For four agonizing hours, my daughter ran a fever of a hundred and four, while I begged on my knees behind the heavy iron door. He said, “You waste money, you get punished.” I had always believed he was just incredibly frugal. Both of our families came from nothing, and the weight of our mortgage and car payments felt like a suffocating physical pressure. Willie wouldn’t even buy himself a new shirt. My heart ached for him, so I pinched pennies right alongside him. But the day his first love showed up with her son, I realized what a fool I’d been. The boy was wearing a pair of limited-edition sneakers—six thousand dollars. Willie didn’t even blink when he swiped his card. When I asked him why, he just frowned. “He’s my actual son. You and the girl are just dramatic.” Nydia, his first love, stood by the door with a sweet, knowing smile, looking at me as if I were some squatter living in a house that belonged to her. It hit me then: in our five years of marriage, Willie had never introduced me to a single friend. I wasn’t his wife. I was just his compromise. I didn’t cry. Instead, I dialed a number. “Mom, that arrangement you mentioned years ago… is it still on the table?” There was a heavy silence on the other end. “He lost his wife recently, and he has a daughter,” my mother said quietly. “But he’s a good man, Georgia. He’s been waiting for you to say yes.” I squeezed my burning daughter tighter against my chest and closed my eyes. “I’ll do it.” … The line went dead quiet. My mother was probably terrified by my sudden shift. She cleared her throat, her voice dropping to a sharp, anxious whisper. “Did Willie hit you?” I didn’t answer. Mona shivered in my arms again, looking like a little sparrow drenched in a cold rain. Her forehead was burning hot, her eyelids tightly shut, her lips cracked and peeling. I wiped the sweat from her face with my sleeve, but she didn’t even make a sound. “What’s wrong with the child?” my mother’s voice cracked. “A fever. I’m taking her to the hospital in a bit.” “What do you mean ‘in a bit’?! Take her now!” I hung up. Willie was sitting in the living room watching TV, the canned laughter from some sitcom washing over the room in waves. I wrapped Mona in a blanket, lifted her up, and walked past him. He didn’t even look up. As I reached for the front doorknob, his voice drifted over: “Where are you going to blow money now?” “The hospital,” I said. “For what? A fever isn’t going to kill her.” He munched on his chips, the plastic bag rustling loudly. “That kid of yours is so high-maintenance. Just like her mother.” I didn’t look back. I just opened the door and walked out. On the way to the hospital, Mona started seizing. The Uber driver took one look in the rearview mirror, slammed on the gas, and blew through two red lights. In the ER, the nurses ran out with a gurney, wheeling her inside. The doctor checked her pupils, asking how long she’d been burning up. “Since two p.m.” “What time?” “Two.” The doctor glanced at the clock on the wall, his face darkening. It was almost six. He didn’t ask another question; they just rushed her through the double doors. I sat on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room, still clutching the blanket I’d wrapped her in. Nearby, an elderly woman was hooked up to an IV. The older man sitting next to her handed me a small packet of graham crackers from his pocket. “Here,” he muttered. I held the crackers, not opening them. The texture of the plastic wrapper pressed hard into my palm. My phone rang. It was my mother. “I spoke to him,” she said. “He says he can meet whenever you’re ready.” “Okay.” “Are you absolutely sure about this, Georgia?” In the background, I could hear a man’s voice talking to my mother about dinner plans. My mother answered him quickly, then asked me, “Tell me the truth. Why now? What happened?” I thought about it for a second. “Nothing. I’m just done.” She was quiet for a long moment. “His name is Jack. He’s forty-two, runs a construction supply business. His wife passed away from pancreatic cancer last year, and he has an eight-year-old girl. I’ve met him. He’s decent, just a man of few words.” “Fine.” “Don’t just say ‘fine.’ You actually have to meet him.” “I will,” I said, and hung up. The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzzed, casting my long, dusty shadow against the linoleum floor. I looked down at my shoes. The soles were worn practically flat. And then I thought of the six-thousand-dollar sneakers on Nydia’s son. It wasn’t that I knew high-end streetwear. It was just that when Willie knelt down to tie the boy’s laces, the sales associate had said, “Great taste, sir. This is our last limited-edition pair. Six thousand dollars.” Willie had stood up and pulled out his card without a second thought. In five years of marriage, he had never bought me a pair of shoes that cost more than thirty dollars. One winter, when my feet were covered in painful chilblains, I wanted to buy a decent pair of insulated winter boots. He literally dragged me out of the store in front of the clerk, muttering, “You’ve got athlete’s foot anyway, don’t ruin their stock.” I didn’t have athlete’s foot. He just didn’t want to spend the money. The ER door swung open. A nurse came out to tell me Mona’s fever had spiked to a hundred and four point three. They had given her an IV antipyretic and were keeping her under observation. I nodded, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand up. At the far end of the hallway, orderlies wheeled a gurney past, its wheels squeaking rhythmically. The figure on it was completely still, a white sheet pulled all the way up to their chin. I stared at the sheet for a long time, suddenly thinking how nice it would be if I were the one lying under it. My phone buzzed. A text from Willie: “Get back here.” I didn’t reply. Another text came: “Who’s making dinner?” Still, I didn’t reply. The third came immediately: “Don’t play these fucking games with me.” I flipped the phone face-down on my knees. The elderly man walked back over and handed me a cup of water from the cooler. “You look pale, sweetheart. Do you need a doctor to look at you?” “I’m fine. Thank you, sir,” I whispered. He sighed and shuffled back to his wife, his slippers scraping softly against the floor. Around eight o’clock, Mona woke up, murmuring “Mommy” under her breath. I leaned over, and her small hand gripped my finger. Her fingernails were tiny, a pale pink. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whispered. “Where does it hurt, baby?” “My hand.” The nurse told her it was just from the IV and to keep it still. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was still warm, but no longer terrifyingly hot. Mona closed her eyes, murmuring something else. I bent closer to hear. “Mommy… can we please not go back there?” I didn’t say a word. I just squeezed her little hand a fraction tighter. When they finally discharged her, I called an Uber and typed in an address. It wasn’t our apartment. When my mother opened the door, she froze. She looked at me, then at the sleeping child in my arms, and her eyes welled up instantly. My dad was in the kitchen, the sizzle of garlic and onions in the pan echoing down the hallway. Without turning around, he called out, “You did the right thing coming back. There’s always a place for you at our table.” I carried Mona into my mother’s bedroom and tucked her under the covers. My mother followed me in, standing by the edge of the bed for a long time before whispering, “Did that bastard Willie really never spend a single dime on her?” “He did,” I said quietly. “For her last birthday, he bought a five-dollar sheet cake from the grocery store clearance rack. And then he spent the whole night complaining about how bakers rip people off.” My mother bit her lip, silent. In the kitchen, my dad turned off the stove. He threw his apron onto the counter with a soft thud. “Tomorrow, I’m going to go have a word with him.” “Don’t,” I said. “I’ll handle it myself.” I sat on the old sofa in the living room and dialed a number. When the line connected, I said, “Hi, Aunt Bea. It’s Georgia.” “Georgia, sweetheart! I’ve been waiting for this call for a long time,” she replied. Aunt Bea was a distant cousin of my mother’s who had set me up with Willie in the first place. “Aunt Bea, I need a favor. I want a divorce, but I don’t have any concrete proof.” She chuckled, a dry, knowing sound. “What do you mean, no proof? That first love of his is back in town with a kid, isn’t she? A kid that old means they never really stopped. You have that card in your hand, Georgia. What is there to fear?” After I hung up, my mother walked over and pressed something into my palm. I looked down. It was a debit card. “Your father saved it,” she whispered. “He wanted it to go toward Mona’s college fund. There’s about twelve thousand dollars on it. Take it for now.” I didn’t argue. I gripped the card so hard it dug painfully into my skin. My screen lit up. It wasn’t another barrage of texts from Willie, but an unknown number. “See you tomorrow.” I initially thought it was spam, but then I scrolled up on my chat with my mother and saw her previous text: “I gave Jack your number.” So, it was him. I didn’t reply. From the kitchen, I heard my mother’s hushed, trembling voice: “…that bastard Willie is truly subhuman… letting the child burn up like that…” My dad mumbled something in response, too low to make out, and my mother fell silent. Mona coughed in the bedroom. I slipped inside; she was already asleep again. She had kicked her blanket to the side, her tiny fists clenched tight. I pulled the covers back over her and sat on the edge of the mattress for a long time. My phone vibrated. A voicemail from Willie. I didn’t play it. A text followed immediately: “Fine, Georgia. Don’t come back. I’m tossing your junk into the dumpster tomorrow.” I stared at the screen, set it face-down, and switched off the bedside lamp. In the darkness, Mona’s breathing was slow, warm, and steady. I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes wide open. The streetlight outside bled through the blinds, casting pale lines across the room. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the tears were gone. There was only a cold, quiet clarity. The next morning, my mother made blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs. Mona woke up with her fever mostly gone. Her little face was still pale, but she was sitting up on her own, ready to eat. My mother fed her forkful by forkful. Mona opened her mouth obediently, remembering to whisper, “Thank you, Grandma,” after each bite. My mother’s eyes filled with tears again, and she quickly turned her face away to brush them off. My dad left immediately after breakfast. As he reached for his coat, he said, “I have an appointment with your Uncle Bob this afternoon. I’m heading over there.” I knew exactly what he was doing. Uncle Bob was a divorce attorney. I didn’t stop him, but I did say, “Dad, don’t get into a physical fight with him.” “Yeah,” he muttered, closing the door behind him. Just before ten, my phone rang. It was Willie. I answered but stayed silent. He launched into a furious tirade. When he finally ran out of breath, I asked quietly, “Is your first love busy today? Is that why you finally found the time to call me?” There was a sudden, stunned silence on the other end. Willie was completely caught off guard. He hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. After a few seconds, his voice spiked. “Are you tracking me?” “I don’t need to track you,” I said. “Your son is practically grown. I was just the only blind person in the room.” He didn’t reply to that. “Do you want a divorce or not?” I asked. “You’re the one asking for it. Fine. But you better think this through. Who’s going to want a divorced woman with baggage?” “Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, county clerk’s office. Don’t be late.” I hung up. My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t even skip a beat. My mother, who had overheard everything from the kitchen, walked out carrying a mug of warm chicken broth. She stood by the doorway, looking at me for a long moment, opening her mouth to speak before thinking better of it. She set the mug on the table and quietly walked back inside. The next day, I got up early, pulled on a clean cream sweater, and tied my hair back into a neat ponytail. My mother insisted on coming with me, but I refused. “What if he gets violent?” she worried. “Not at City Hall. He wouldn’t dare.” When I arrived, Willie was already waiting outside. He was wearing a jacket I had bought him, his hair styled with pomade, his leather shoes polished to a high shine. He looked me up and down, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “You wore “that”?” Without a word, I walked past him and went inside. The clerk at the window asked how we planned to divide our assets. Willie pulled out his phone to do the math: the house would be split fifty-fifty, he would keep the car, and we would split the savings evenly. “How much is in the savings?” I asked. “Twelve thousand,” he said. “That’s wrong. It was eighteen thousand at the end of last year.” Willie’s expression hardened. “You’re misremembering.” “The bank statements don’t misremember.” The clerk looked at him and asked him to pull up the digital statements. He stalled, tapping on his phone for several minutes before finally admitting he had withdrawn six thousand last year to help his parents renovate their house. I didn’t call him out. We both knew exactly where that money had actually gone. I got full custody of Mona. Child support was set at three hundred dollars a month—the absolute legal minimum. Even then, Willie tried to bargain. “Can we do two-fifty? Money is really tight right now.” The clerk gave him a look of pure disdain. “This is the statutory minimum, sir. We cannot go lower.” With a scoff, he signed the papers. The entire process took less than twenty minutes. The marriage certificate was dissolved, replaced by a certified divorce decree. Willie stood up first. Near the exit, he paused and looked back at me. “If you can’t survive out there, don’t come crawling back to me.” “Don’t worry,” I said. When I stepped out of City Hall, the sun was blindingly bright. Standing on the concrete steps, I opened the divorce decree. On my filed ID photo, my expression was perfectly blank. It was a stark contrast to the photo we’d taken for our marriage license five years ago, where my smile had reached my ears and the naive hope in my eyes had been painfully obvious. My phone rang. It was Aunt Bea. “Is it official?” “Yes.” “I’m free.” “Good riddance,” she said sharply. “Listen, I found the address of Willie’s little first love. I also managed to get bank records showing he transferred a significant amount of cash to her. On top of that, the house he owns back in his hometown was bought before your marriage, but you two used joint funds to pay down the mortgage. You are legally entitled to a portion of that equity.” “I don’t want his money,” I said. “Are you losing your mind?” Aunt Bea snapped. “Even if you don’t want it, what about your daughter? What is three hundred dollars a month going to do? It barely covers groceries for a week.” I stood in the sunshine, the breeze cool against my skin. My eyes felt dry and heavy. “I know,” I said. “I’ll think about it.” I hung up and dialed the other number. It rang twice before a deep, slightly gravelly voice answered. “Georgia.” “Jack. Are you free today?” “Yes. Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.” I gave him the address of the courthouse. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said. As I tucked the phone away, it occurred to me that despite my mother describing him as a man of few words, he certainly didn’t waste any time. A clean, black SUV pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, revealing a square jaw and dark, quiet eyes that held a steady intensity. He wore a neat, dark blue utility jacket, the collar pressed perfectly flat. He got out to open the door for me, his gaze polite but brief, not offering a superficial smile. Once I was buckled in, he finally spoke. “Have you had breakfast?” “Yes. You?” “Yes.” And then, silence. He didn’t turn on the radio; the car was wonderfully quiet. I looked out the window, watching the city pass by. People were bustling along the sidewalks, a coffee cart steamed in the morning chill, and an old woman held a little boy’s hand as they crossed the street, the kid clutching a warm, soft pretzel. We pulled up to a quiet neighborhood diner. He slid the menu over to me first and ordered a pot of black tea. When the waitress came to take our order, I told him to choose. He didn’t hesitate, ordering three plates to share—mac and cheese, roasted chicken, and a side of seasoned green beans. When she walked away, he looked at me. “I didn’t know what you liked. We’ll start with this, and we can always get something else.” I poured him some tea. When he reached out to take the cup, I noticed his fingers were long, his knuckles prominent and strong. “How old is your daughter?” he asked. “Four and a half.” “Mine is eight. Wild as a stray cat. Her teacher calls me every other week.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he spoke. It wasn’t quite a smile, but the hard lines of his face softened. When the food arrived, he gently set a portion of green beans onto the small side plate next to mine. I blinked, slightly surprised. He didn’t offer an explanation, simply bowing his head to eat. When we were nearly finished, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick manila envelope, and slid it across the table. I didn’t touch it. “What’s this?” “Your mother mentioned you don’t have a place of your own right now. I have a townhouse that’s currently empty. Here are the keys.” I sat still. The envelope lay right next to my hand, stamped with the logo of a local real estate agency. “I didn’t say I was going to move in with you.” “I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice level. “I just want you to take a look at it. If you like it, we can get married. If you don’t want to get married, that’s fine too—you can just stay there.” He stood up to pay the bill. After a couple of steps, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. I don’t have an agenda. I just think… a woman raising a kid alone has it hard enough.” I stared at the envelope, then picked it up, feeling its weight in my hands. It was heavy. There was definitely more than just a set of keys inside. The waitress cleared our plates, the quiet clatter of silverware grounding me. Through the window, I could hear children laughing as they ran down the sidewalk. I slipped the envelope into my purse, stood up, and followed him out. His pace was steady, neither too fast nor too slow, keeping a perfect rhythm so I never had to rush to keep up. On my third day living in Jack’s townhouse, Willie showed up. I didn’t let him past the threshold. He stood on the porch holding a mesh bag of oranges, wearing the same utility jacket I had bought him, the collar frayed and faded. He used to hate wearing it, always complaining that the color made him look poor. “I came to see Mona,” he said, lifting the oranges slightly. “She’s not here.” “I know she’s at your mom’s. I came to see you.” I leaned against the doorframe, blocking the entry. The porch light flickered once, buzzing softly in the evening air. Willie’s face looked slightly swollen, and there was an angry red scratch running down his jawline. “What happened to your face?” He touched his jaw, offering a weak, pathetic smile. “Nothing. Just tripped.” I didn’t call him out. The scratch was clearly from a woman’s manicured nail—long, sharp, and deliberate. “You dropped off the fruit. You can leave now.” He pressed his hand against the door. He wasn’t pushing hard, but I didn’t slam it. He peered past my shoulder into the living room. It was practically empty, save for a worn-in leather sofa that Jack had moved in for me. Willie stared at the sofa for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing. “Did your new guy rent this place for you?” “That’s none of your business.” “Georgia, we’ve been divorced for three days. Are you already living with someone else?” His voice rose, and across the hall, the neighbor’s door cracked open. An elderly woman peeked out before quickly shutting it. I looked at Willie. Really looked at him. He had lost weight, his cheeks sunken, his lips dry and chapped. I remembered how I used to constantly nag him to drink water whenever his lips looked like that, and how he would snap back, “I know, I know, shut up.” Now his lips were bleeding, and there was no one left to nag him. “Where is Nydia?” I asked quietly. He shut his mouth. Slowly, his hand slid off the door and into his pocket, his shoulders slumping. “Did she leave?” I pressed. “She went back,” he mumbled, staring down at his scuffed leather shoes. The toes were worn grey, no longer polished. “Back to her husband?” Willie snapped his head up, his eyes bloodshot—not from sorrow, but from raw, wounded pride. “Did you have someone dig up dirt on me?” “I didn’t need to dig,” I said. “A man like you… who else but me would ever tolerate you?” The words surprised even me. For five years, I had walked on eggshells around him, doing whatever he wanted, too terrified to ever talk back. Willie stared at me, his eyes rimmed with red. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Georgia… let’s get back together.” A neighbor walked by down the hall, carrying a grocery bag that rustled softly. The hallway light went out, plunging Willie’s face into shadow, before snapping back on. “I won’t be like that anymore, Georgia,” he pleaded. “I was only trying to save money for our future. And as for Mason… I didn’t have a choice. She insisted on having him, what was I supposed to do? I—” “When did you start seeing her again?” “What?” “I asked, when did you and Nydia start up again?” His lips trembled, but no sound came out. “You never actually stopped, did you?” I said. Willie’s mouth twitched, his expressions shifting rapidly before settling into a pathetic, hollow smile. It was a smile that looked worse than crying. “Fine. Since you already know, why even ask?” he muttered. “The only reason I married you back then was because her family wouldn’t approve of us. She married someone else, and I was devastated. I just found someone to fill the space. I admit… I did you wrong.” I listened to his words, feeling strangely hollow. “Are you done?” “Georgia…” “If you’re done, please leave.” I pulled the door to close it, but he shoved his hand against the wood, using significantly more force this time. The heavy wood caught my forearm. A sharp pain shot up my arm, and I let out a soft gasp. Willie immediately let go, taking a half-step back. “You’re not serious about this guy, are you?” he asked. I didn’t answer. “Is he rich?” Still, silence. “Georgia, we just got divorced and you already have a backup plan. You had this set up all along, didn’t you?” I looked at his face. The face I had stared at for five years. His eyebrows, his eyes, his nose, his mouth—I knew every detail well enough to draw them from memory with my eyes closed. But looking at him now, he was nothing more than a stranger. “Get out,” I said. I shut the door, and the lock clicked into place. I leaned my back against the wood. I could hear Willie lingering in the hallway for a moment before his heavy footsteps headed toward the stairwell. He didn’t take the elevator. He walked down. The sound grew fainter and fainter until it vanished entirely. My phone lit up on the counter. A text from Jack: “What do you want for dinner? I can bring it over.” I didn’t reply. I walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. It was cold, freezing my throat all the way down to my stomach. The kitchen window was cracked open, and the evening breeze blew the curtains, their edges sweeping over the clean, empty countertop. It looked completely untouched, as if no one lived here. The doorbell rang again. Thinking Willie had returned, I froze near the door. It rang a second time, followed by a polite, rhythmic knock. Tap, tap, tap. A pause. Tap, tap, tap. “Georgia?” It was Jack’s voice. I opened the door. He stood on the porch holding a grocery bag in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other. He looked at me, his gaze dropping instantly to my arm. “What happened to your arm?” I looked down. Where the door had pinched me, the skin was already swelling and turning a dark shade of blue. “It’s nothing. Just clumsy.” He didn’t pry. He walked in and set the groceries on the kitchen counter—some fresh potatoes, celery, and a pack of pork chops. “Was Willie here?” he asked. I stayed quiet. He began unpacking the groceries, placing the pork chops in the fridge, washing the celery, and standing the stalks upright in a glass of water to keep them crisp. When he finished, he turned around to look at me. “If he comes back, call me.” “It’s fine. I can handle him.” Jack watched me for a moment, then let it drop. He put the milk in the fridge. The shelves were barren, the carton sitting lonely on the top rack. “Is potato soup okay for dinner?” he asked. “Yes.” He tied an apron around his waist and turned on the faucet, the water rushing into the sink. I stood at the kitchen doorway, watching his broad shoulders and straight back. He washed the vegetables slowly, meticulously cleaning each leaf. “Jack,” I called out. He turned off the tap and looked back at me. “Why are you looking to be with a divorced woman who has a kid?” He thought about it for a couple of seconds before replying, “Because I’m a single father raising a kid, too.” With that, he turned the tap back on and went back to washing the greens.

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I posted a wedding photo and forgot to block Julian’s first love. The next day, he auctioned off our wedding night online. When the wedding ended and I finally found Julian, he was haggling with his friends. “One million dollars for the night. Not a penny less.” “Come on, Julian. Even if Serena is still a virgin, that’s way too expensive.” “Expensive? She’s my newlywed wife. Raise the bid. It has to be higher.” Everyone burst into laughter. “But seriously, Julian, you’re not going to your own wedding night? Aren’t you afraid Serena will get mad?” “She brought this on herself by showing off in front of Melanie. It already kills me that I couldn’t marry the woman I actually love. Besides, I bought this special pill. She won’t suspect a thing.” Julian flashed a packet of white pills in his hand. My tears finally spilled over. “Julian, that Instagram post of yours auctioning off your wedding night must have gotten hundreds of likes by now, right?” Julian smirked, nodding proudly. “Pretty much.” “Aren’t you worried Serena will find out and make a scene?” “I’ll just say it was a joke. She wouldn’t dare say anything.” His friends clapped their hands, kissing his ass. “Julian, you really have her wrapped around your finger. No wonder Serena chased you so hard. But what did she do to piss you off so bad that you’re auctioning off her first night?” Julian’s chest puffed up at the compliment. “She had the nerve to show off to Melanie. Not marrying Melanie is the biggest regret of my life. If I don’t teach Serena a lesson now, she’ll think she can walk all over Melanie forever.” Julian stared down at his phone, scrolling rapidly. Suddenly, his lips curled up. “Found it!” He held up his phone. “Don’t tell me this isn’t worth it. Look at these boudoir photos Serena took. Look at those tits, look at that ass! With a body like this, is it not worth the price?” The guys whistled dirtily, cheering loudly. I wanted to rush in and rip his throat out, but my body was trembling so violently that my throat felt constricted, tight and burning with pain. Julian and I had been betrothed since we were kids. Three years ago, when the Miller family faced a massive financial crisis, Julian suddenly entered my life. It was love at first sight, and I pursued him fiercely. Soon, he became my boyfriend. When we were together, he always opened car doors for me, ordered my favorite foods before I even asked, and took care of every little detail. His attentiveness made me the envy of all my friends. Seeing how happy I was, my parents poured resources into helping the Millers. They didn’t just help them expand into the semiconductor market; they also gave them two massive corporate contracts. Naturally, our wedding was put on the schedule. But a month before the wedding, a woman named Melanie suddenly appeared at my door, claiming she was Julian’s one true love. What did Julian do back then? He knelt before me, his eyes filled with anxiety and desperation. “Serena, don’t listen to Melanie’s lies. I only love you. Just don’t let her know what we’re up to from now on, okay? It’s too much drama.” I believed him. I thought Melanie was just a delusional stalker. But now… I had posted a single photo of my wedding dress on my SnapChat, forgetting to block Melanie. That night, she posted a pathetic, tearful video on TikTok. With red-rimmed eyes and tears streaming down her face, she looked incredibly fragile and heartbroken. In the early hours of that morning, Julian’s friends carried him home, completely wasted. When I frantically asked what happened, one of his friends sneered at me and muttered, “He’s just miserable because he couldn’t marry the girl of his dreams.” At the time, I didn’t understand. Looking back, the warning signs were everywhere. Melanie was the woman in Julian’s heart. I was nothing but a tool to help the Miller family rise from the ashes. I stumbled out of the venue, the festive red decorations stinging my eyes. My parents’ words of blessing when they left kept echoing in my head. I’m sorry, Mom, Dad. I didn’t make myself happy. I chose a man who doesn’t love me. Because he didn’t love me, he didn’t care about my dignity or my feelings. He made me a laughingstock, turning what should have been the most beautiful night of my life into a pathetic joke. I walked back to our townhouse alone. Looking at the bedroom I had meticulously decorated and the silk lingerie I had carefully chosen, I covered my face as tears streamed through my fingers. Until my phone rang. “Serena, where are you?” I wiped my tears. “I’m at…” With a loud bang, the bedroom door was kicked open. “Julian. She’s here. She’s alone in the bedroom.”

Watching a dozen men flood into the room, my hand shook, and my phone clattered to the floor. I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, backing away. “Serena, don’t be shy.” A man swaggered forward, reeking of alcohol that made me gag. When he saw the silk lingerie laid out on my bed, he picked it up with a finger, a greasy smirk stretching across his face. “Julian said we should come over and keep you company on your wedding night…” “Get out! I’m warning you… there are security cameras in this room!” I screamed, trying to sound brave. But the leader only got more excited. He plopped down on the edge of my bed, scanning me up and down. “Why are you acting so pure? Your husband literally left to sleep with another woman tonight.” “Exactly. You already took photos showing off half your tits. Who are you trying to play innocent for?” “Innocent? If she were innocent, would her own husband auction off her wedding night? I bet she’s just a desperate slut deep down…” “It’s not like that!” Tears streamed down my face. Those private photos were taken by my best friend, and I had only ever sent them to Julian. Suddenly, the man lost patience. Just as he reached out to grab me, a high-pitched laugh echoed from the doorway. “Oh my, how could I miss Julian’s big night?” It was Melanie’s voice. She walked in, seeing me surrounded by men, and smirked. My eyes immediately locked onto the fresh hickey on her collarbone. Meeting her gaze, the sheer triumph in her eyes confirmed my worst fears. Could they really…? “I’m so sorry, Serena. I’m late. My puppy was just too clingy tonight,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Julian’s wedding band… was shining on her finger. Melanie produced two glasses of champagne from somewhere, handing one to me. “Since I missed your ceremony, let me apologize with a toast.” The men roared with laughter. “Damn, Julian’s slackin’. Melanie still has the energy to come mark her territory?” “You don’t know shit. The Miller Group is going public soon. Why would Julian need the Vance family after that? Of course he’s throwing her out!” I pressed myself deeper into the corner of the bed, the image of the white pills in Julian’s hand flashing through my mind. God knows if Melanie put something in this glass. “Take it away! I’m not drinking it!” My voice raised, but it only drew more mockery. “Serena, are you seriously disrespecting me?” Melanie snatched my wrist, pulling me toward her. She leaned into my ear, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Serena. Julian already spent his wedding night with me. As for yours… did you think I drugged this glass? No, darling. You were drugged a long time ago. It was in your wedding toast with Julian.” Boom. My brain went completely numb. The memory of the wedding ceremony rushed back. “Serena, let’s drink to our future.” Julian’s deeply affectionate eyes had made me melt. Suppressing the flush on my face, I had drained the glass. He had drugged me then? “Serena?” A familiar voice called out. Julian walked in with his usual gentle smile. For once, his shirt was buttoned all the way up, but the faint purple marks peaking out from his collar told the whole story. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my nails digging into my palms to keep me anchored. Julian sat beside me and pulled my hands away. “What are you doing? These are my friends. Don’t tell me you don’t trust us?” Suddenly, my vision began to blur. A wave of intense heat surged from my lower abdomen, making me feel desperately hot. “Whoa… Julian, is the drug finally kicking in?”

“Julian, is this really okay?” one of the men asked cautiously. Julian smirked. “Of course! The Vance family is dealing with a major corporate crisis right now. They won’t be able to recover anytime soon. Go wild, guys. I’ve got your backs…” Using the last shred of my sanity, I grabbed Julian’s sleeve, tears streaming down my face. “Julian… tell me why. Why are you doing this to me?” Why? I gave you my whole heart. Why would you do this? Julian’s eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed my jaw, squeezing hard. “Serena, your family has done plenty of dirty tricks. This is nothing compared to what you deserve. Get ready for a lifetime of this!” He shoved me away, and my limp body collapsed onto the mattress. Without a backward glance, Julian wrapped his arm around Melanie and walked out. Before she closed the door, Melanie turned to give me one last smug look. “Help.” I tried to wrap my arms around myself, but my limbs felt like lead. Soon, I felt completely vulnerable. I wanted to run, but someone grabbed my ankle and dragged me violently to the edge of the bed. Dozens of hands reached out. I bit down hard on my tongue, using the sharp metallic taste of blood to force a surge of adrenaline through my body. I remembered my mother had tucked a pair of vintage silver scissors under my pillow for protection. It was an old superstition of hers. The drug made me gasp for air, waves of heat warping my vision into hallucinations. I bit my tongue harder, letting blood trickle down my chin. The leader grabbed my chin and slapped me hard across the face. “You stupid bitch, quit acting like a virgin!” My fingers finally brushed against the cold metal under the pillow. “Stay back!” I pulled the scissors out, brandishing them wildly. “Oh, she’s got a toy! What, Serena? You want to play dirty? We can play,” one of them laughed, completely unfazed. I huddled into the corner, trembling. I raised the scissors, but instead of pointing them at them, I plunged them straight into my own thigh. The room went dead silent. Without giving them time to react, I stabbed myself again. The sharp pain ripped through the drug’s haze, clearing my mind completely. “You want me dead? I’ll do it myself!” Blood pooled onto the red sheets. My strength drained rapidly until the room finally went black from the blood loss.

The sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose. When I opened my eyes and saw my mother’s familiar face, I burst into tears. “Serena, let’s move to another city,” my mother said, her eyes red and swollen as she looked at me tenderly. My father stood by the bed, his jaw clenched, but the tears in his eyes betrayed him. “That bastard! How dare he do this to you!” The memory of last night flashed through my mind, making me violently sick. But seeing my parents’ devastated faces, I forced a smile. “Okay. I’ve actually wanted to try living somewhere else. When do we leave?” “Serena…” The hospital door burst open. When Julian walked in, my father’s veins bulged. He lunged forward and slapped Julian hard across the face. “You monster! We were blind to trust you with our daughter!” Julian poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his expression darkening. “I’m a monster? What about your family? You ruined the Miller Group, pretended to help us recover, and took our shares for free! Who’s the real monster here?” “You… who told you that lie?” Julian sneered, looking around the room. “Stop acting. Oh, by the way, Melanie is pregnant. It’s a boy. He’s going to inherit everything I own.” “You bastard! You did that to Serena, and now you’re bragging about a bastard child?!” My mother trembled with rage. I tried to move on the bed, but the motion tore at my stitches. The agony was blinding. As Julian’s words echoed in my head, I suddenly understood… “Julian, you planned all of this, didn’t you?” Julian glanced at me. “Still smart, Serena.” Melanie was an illegitimate daughter, and Julian was betrothed to me. If she got pregnant, her child would have no legal standing. But if I was ruined and made lower than her, she could step in as his legitimate wife. He got his revenge on me, and Melanie got her status. Looking at the man I had loved for three years, I felt nothing but disgust. My father suddenly grabbed a ceramic flower pot from the bedside table and threw it at Julian. Julian ducked, grabbed my father’s arm, and twisted it violently. My father let out a cry of pain. “Julian!” I screamed, trying to get up, but the pain in my thigh held me down. “Serena, do you agree to the divorce and the asset transfer?” Julian growled, tightening his grip on my father, who had just undergone major surgery a few months ago. “Fine! I agree! Just let him go!” Julian let go with a smug smile, dusting off his jacket. “That’s more like it. I guess the Vance family is broke now. Don’t worry, the hospital bill is on me. Haha.” My parents wrapped their arms around me, and the three of us wept together. I didn’t know what strings my father pulled, but by the third day, we were discharged. Two weeks later, after Julian finished playing house with Melanie, he finally remembered me. He pushed open the hospital room door, only to find an empty bed. “Where is the patient in this room?” “They checked out days ago.”

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On the night of my boyfriend’s birthday, he made three wishes before blowing out the candles on the cake I had spent all day baking. First, he wished for Chloe Bennett to be happy every single day. Second, he wished for Chloe’s project to win the grand prize. Third, he wished for the cat they were raising together, Cookie, to grow up healthy and strong. Chloe Bennett is my best friend. I froze on the spot. Yet, the room filled with our friends erupted into cheers and laughter. Chloe blushed, giving Ethan Carter a playful, teasing shove. “Why didn’t you make a wish for Summer? She’s your actual girlfriend, you know.” Ethan smiled with absolute certainty. “Do I even need to guess her wish? It’s obviously to marry me.” The next moment, he dropped to one knee and pulled out a ring box. Before, I would have burst into tears and nodded frantically. But right now, I just watched as he slipped the diamond ring onto my ring finger. The band was so loose it slid right off. It was a size too big. It was exactly Chloe’s size. I let out a soft, quiet laugh. I had loved Ethan for seven years. But letting him go only took this single second.

Someone in the crowd, always eager for drama, joked. “Wait, why does that ring look like it would fit Chloe perfectly?” Chloe’s face flushed red instantly, and she hurriedly hid her hands behind her back. “Stop talking nonsense, guys.” The more she acted like this, the more awkward the atmosphere became. Another friend chimed in, laughing. “Chloe, why are you hiding your hands?” “Is it really your size?” I stood in the middle of the laughing crowd, my fingertips turning ice-cold. Chloe quickly rushed to my side and gently linked her arm through mine. “Summer, please don’t be mad.” “Ethan definitely didn’t do this on purpose.” Her voice was incredibly soft, sounding genuinely worried for me. “He always helps me carry my rings and bracelets. He probably just got our sizes mixed up.” Chloe’s eyes were red, but I caught the fleeting gleam of triumph in them. So, they were already so close. Close enough that Ethan would hold her rings and put on her bracelets. He remembered her ring size more clearly than mine. Chloe smiled and pinched my fingers. “Summer, you’re just too skinny.” “Everything is always too loose on you.” She paused, her eyes scanning my chest with a seemingly innocent look. Her tone was playful. “Just like when we go lingerie shopping, remember?” “Even the smallest cup size has gaps on you.” The room burst into laughter again. I stood there, feeling the heat rise to my face, burning with humiliation. But Ethan only gave Chloe a helpless, indulgent look. “Stop teasing Summer.” His tone sounded like a scolding. But his eyes were full of pure adoration. Someone yelled for us to cut the cake. “Alright, alright! The proposal is a success! Let’s cut the cake!” I picked up the cake knife and went to hand it to him, but Chloe’s phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification. She glanced down and immediately beamed. “Oh! The pet sitter sent a video of Cookie!” Ethan paused, instantly leaning in close to her. “Let me see.” Chloe held her phone up right in front of his face. In the video, a chubby little kitten was chasing a toy ball. Their shoulders were pressed tightly together. They were so close, as if there was never any room for a third person between them. Standing in front of the birthday cake, I felt like a pathetic, invisible joke. After a while, Ethan finally remembered to cut the cake. He took the knife from my hand, sliced the first piece, and naturally handed the plate to Chloe. “You barely ate anything earlier.” “Eat this first.” Chloe blinked, whispering, “Is this okay?” “Summer made this cake herself. She should have the first slice.” Without a second thought, Ethan shrugged. “She won’t mind.” When those words left his mouth, I realized I was too tired to even fake a smile. Over the past few years, “She won’t mind” was the phrase Ethan used the most on my behalf. When Chloe worked late and he went to pick her up, he said, “Chloe is your best friend. You won’t mind, right?” When Chloe’s project had issues and he stayed up all night helping her fix it, he said, “I’m only doing this because she’s your friend. You won’t mind, right?” When Chloe said Cookie was sick and he stayed at her apartment the whole night to watch the cat, he said, “It’s just a cat, Summer. You won’t mind, right?” But Ethan had never once asked me. Did I actually mind? Chloe took the cake, her eyes watery as she looked at me. “Summer, please don’t be mad at him.” “My blood sugar is just a little low today.” As if fearing I wouldn’t believe her, she swayed slightly. Ethan immediately caught her by the waist. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “Sit down first.” He guided Chloe to the couch, placing the cake gently in her hands. His movements were so practiced, as if he had done this a thousand times. He didn’t ask if I was tired from standing all night. He didn’t care that I had been busy preparing this party since dawn, without eating a single bite of food. I looked down at the loose ring on my finger. It was hilariously oversized. The moment I bent my finger, it would slip off. Just like this relationship. I had tried to hold onto it so tight, so many times. But some things are just impossible to keep.

I didn’t say another word. I grabbed my coat and drove home. Shortly after I arrived, a Snapchat message from Chloe popped up. “Summer, don’t be mad.” “Ethan felt so guilty when he realized he got the wrong ring size.” “I’m with him right now, helping him pick out a new one for you!” Attached was a photo. Under the bright, luxurious lights of a jewelry store. Chloe was sitting next to Ethan, trying on a stunning diamond ring. Ethan was leaning in, looking intently at her hand. He looked like he was carefully checking if the fit was perfect. Staring at the photo, my mind drifted back to a long time ago. I remembered the first time I introduced Chloe to Ethan. She was an extrovert, and she and Ethan had bickered from the very first minute. She teased him for acting too cool, and he complained she talked too much. I sat beside them, laughing, genuinely happy that my boyfriend and my best friend got along so well. Later, when the three of us ate out, Chloe would always playfully steal food from my plate. Ethan would coldly push his own dishes toward me. “Don’t steal hers.” “Order your own if you want it.” Back then, I truly believed. The person Ethan protected would always be me. But somewhere along the way, things changed. Their bickering turned into inside jokes only they understood. Their laughter became a wall, leaving me as the awkward third wheel forced to smile along. In a relationship of three, the person who gets pushed out first is always the last to notice. Now, Ethan was buying me a new ring. Yet, he was still using Chloe’s hand to test it. They probably didn’t even realize how messed up that was. At 11 PM, a mutual friend sent me a screenshot of their group chat. Someone was advising Ethan: “Ethan, you should really go home and comfort Summer.” “The ring thing today was pretty hurtful.” Ethan replied a few minutes later. “Summer is just overreacting.” “I’m already picking out a new ring for her.” “She’ll cool down once she gets over herself.” Chloe also messaged the group. “It’s all my fault.” “Maybe I should go apologize to Summer in person tomorrow.” Ethan instantly replied: “What does this have to do with you?” “You were put in a super awkward position today too.” “She shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum in front of you.” Staring at those words, my heart didn’t ache as much as I expected. I guess it had already been broken too many times. By the time the final blow landed, I felt nothing but numbness.

Not long after, Ethan came home. He held a new velvet jewelry box and carefully presented it to me. “Summer, buying the wrong size was my bad.” “I got you a new one.” As he spoke, he slid the ring onto my finger. This time, it fit perfectly. But as I looked down, I noticed a tiny inscription on the inside of the band. E & C. Ethan & Chloe. Looking at those letters, a mocking laugh escaped my lips. Ethan followed my gaze, and his face instantly froze. “The jeweler must have messed up the engraving.” “Don’t overthink it.” But then, a receipt slipped out of his pocket and fluttered to the floor. I looked down. Same day. Same store. Ethan had purchased two rings. The other one was three times more expensive than the one on my finger. The truth hit me like a physical blow. This ring, engraved with his and Chloe’s initials, was never meant for me in the first place. Ethan cleared his throat, patting my head gently to soothe me. “When we actually get married, I’ll buy you another one.” Another one. Next time. Ethan always assumed my hurt feelings could just be patched up with a “next time.” My mind flashed back to our first planned vacation together. I had spent two weeks researching and making a perfect itinerary. Which beach to watch the sunset, which restaurant had the best seafood, which spots were the least crowded. But at the airport, when we went to check in, I realized. My name wasn’t on either of the tickets. Ethan had stood there in a daze for a long time before saying: “I think I got your social security number mixed up with Chloe’s when booking.” “But the tickets are non-refundable, and the hotel is booked.” “Summer, I promise I’ll take you next time.” That tropical island vacation ended up being a trip for the two of them. Chloe posted so many photos on Instagram. Sunsets, palm trees. And a candid shot of Ethan carrying her flip-flops, walking along the shore. I had stared at those photos back then, crying myself to sleep. When Ethan returned, he brought me a cheap box of chocolates bought from the airport duty-free. He told me, “Don’t be sad. I’ll definitely take you next time.” Later, a singer I had loved for years came to town for a concert. Ethan managed to grab two front-row VIP tickets. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep all night. But at the gate, the ticket scanner looked at the names on the mobile tickets and politely said, “These tickets are registered under Mr. Ethan Carter and Miss Chloe Bennett.” Ethan rubbed his temples in embarrassment. “I messed up again.” In the end, he and Chloe sat in the front row. After the concert, Chloe posted a photo on Instagram. She was leaning her head on Ethan’s shoulder, holding up a glowing light stick. Caption: “My favorite song, with the person who knows me best.” I had confronted Ethan about it. But he only sighed. “Summer, stop overthinking.” “Chloe is your best friend, not some stranger.” “I couldn’t just let her go to a concert alone at night, could I?” He always had his justifications. And I was always expected to be the understanding one. Thinking of this, I pulled the new ring off my finger and tossed it back into the box. I walked into the bedroom and started pulling out my suitcases. As I packed, I realized. In this apartment we shared, almost nothing truly belonged to me. The cashmere throw blanket on the couch was bought by Ethan because Chloe once complained it got cold when she came over to play. At the vanity, I found a silver bracelet in the drawer. It was my birthday gift from Ethan last year. It cost barely forty dollars, and the box was dented at the corners. He had said, “It’s the thought that counts, not the price.” But on Chloe’s birthday this year, he bought her a custom designer necklace. She had accidentally left the receipt tucked inside a book on our couch. Six thousand dollars. More than a hundred times the cost of my bracelet. Even our fridge was stuffed with low-sugar Greek yogurt and organic cherries that Chloe loved. Meanwhile, my favorite Jasmine tea had been empty for months. I had reminded Ethan to buy it multiple times. He always said, “Next time.” But “next time” never came. Ethan stood at the bedroom door, watching me fold my clothes into the suitcase. His patience finally wore thin. “How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” “I bought you the ring.” “I apologized.” “What more do you want?” I kept my head down, zipping up my suitcase. My voice was barely a whisper. “Ethan.” “There won’t be a next time.” He slammed the door and walked out in frustration. I didn’t chase after him. On my phone, the confirmation email for my overseas transfer sat quietly in my inbox. My flight was tomorrow morning. Between Ethan and me. There would never be another “next time.”

The next morning, I went to Chloe’s apartment. I needed to get back the handmade glass photo frame I had gifted her when we were eighteen. Inside was our very first picture together. On the back, I had written in neat handwriting: “Summer and Chloe, best friends forever.” Back then, Chloe had hugged the frame and cried. She said, “Summer, I will never, ever lose you.” But when I used the spare key code to open her door, the sight inside froze me. Chloe was standing there, wearing a loose, oversized men’s dress shirt. Right below her collarbone, a faint, dark hickey was visible. I recognized that shirt. It was a limited-edition piece I had searched three different malls to find for Ethan’s birthday last year. When Chloe saw me, she seemed startled for a split second, but a smile quickly returned to her face. “Summer! What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, her voice raspy with sleep. “Cookie was throwing up all night. Ethan was so worried he insisted on coming over to check on him.” “We were up until 3 AM. We’re both absolutely exhausted.” I stared at her bare legs peeking out from under the shirt, my fists clenching so hard my nails dug into my palms. She blinked, giving me a suggestive smile. “By the way, your man is in seriously good shape.” “But his abs are so hard, using them as a pillow made my neck so stiff.” My blood ran cold. I whipped my head toward the half-open bedroom door. “You slept together?” Chloe laughed, completely unbothered. “It’s not the first time.” “Whenever Cookie got sick in the middle of the night before, we’d fall asleep watching over him together.” She reached out and playfully tapped my nose. “Don’t worry, babe.” “I’ve tested him for you.” “Even sleeping next to a gorgeous girl like me, he was a perfect gentleman.” “Though his abs could use some work. You should make him hit the gym more.” Ethan leaned against the bedroom doorway, letting out a low chuckle. “Oh yeah? Then who was the one clinging to me all night?” “Saying I was softer than Cookie?” Chloe’s face flushed as she playfully threw a throw pillow at him. “Ethan! Shut up!” They laughed and bantered. Chloe moved too fast, practically stumbling right into Ethan’s chest. Her soft curves brushed against his arm. Ethan’s laughter caught in his throat. His ears turned bright red. He looked like he wanted to step back. But his hands had already instinctively caught her by the waist to steady her. Chloe seemed to notice too. Her face flushed deeper. Yet, she didn’t pull away. They stood there, wrapped in an intimate, suffocating bubble. As if they had completely forgotten I was standing right at the door. I gripped the glass frame, and a laugh bubbled up from my throat. “Chloe Bennett.” “Do you know what people call girls like you?” “A homewrecker. A willing, cheap homewrecker!” The laughter in the room stopped instantly. Chloe’s face drained of color, and tears instantly welled in her eyes. “Summer, how could you say that to me?” “Ethan is just my friend.” I curled my lip in disgust, letting out a cold sneer. “Friends don’t sleep on his abs all night.” Ethan’s face finally darkened. “Summer, that’s enough.” I looked at him, my voice trembling. “Enough?” “You two slept in the same bed, and you expect me to act like nothing happened?” Ethan frowned. “Summer, is it really necessary to be this nasty?” “Sure, Chloe is better than you in a lot of ways, but are you really that jealous? Do you have to make up disgusting rumors about us?” When those words hit me, my hand gave a violent shudder. The glass photo frame slipped from my grip, shattering into a million pieces on the hardwood floor. Our photo fell out, landing right in the middle of the sharp shards. Instinctively, I knelt down to grab it. Chloe scrambled to do the same. A sharp piece of glass sliced into both of our hands at the same time. I gasped at the sharp sting. But Ethan’s eyes instantly flew to Chloe. He practically lunged forward, grabbing her hand. “Are you okay? Why were you so careless?” “Is it deep?” Chloe sobbed, shaking her head. “I’m fine… Summer is bleeding too…” Only then did Ethan spare me a passing glance. His eyes lingered on the blood pooling in my palm for a fraction of a second before darting back to Chloe. “She can handle it herself.” “You hurt your hand. What if it leaves a scar?” Kneeling in the middle of the broken glass, even the physical pain felt dull and distant. Ethan swept Chloe up in his arms and carried her toward the door. As he passed me, his voice was cold as ice. “Summer, go home and calm down.” “When you’re ready to speak like a civilized human being, you can apologize to her.” The front door slammed shut in my face. When I got back to our apartment, I threw the photo straight into the trash. I packed my passport, credit cards, and a few clothes into my suitcase, one by one. My phone lit up with a text from Ethan. “I’m taking you to that Italian place you like tonight.” “Apologize to Chloe there, and we’ll put this behind us.” Looking at the text, I calmly shut off my phone. The sound of my suitcase zipping shut was quiet. But in that moment, I knew I was never looking back.

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The day before college started, my online boyfriend told me he had lost a bet. I was the prize. Before I could even process what was happening, he dragged me into a Snapchat group chat with over a hundred people. The group announcement had just been updated: “Congrats to Ethan on winning his brand-new, 220-pound girlfriend!” Right after that, my sophomore year photo was dumped into the chat. In the photo, I was wearing an oversized, baggy hoodie, so heavy you couldn’t even see my neck. The group chat instantly exploded. “Holy shit, that’s not a girlfriend. That’s a straight-up whale.” “A bet’s a bet. Ethan has to complete the couple’s challenge with her tomorrow.” Soon, someone set up a betting pool. They were wagering on whether I’d actually dare to show up tomorrow night. My online boyfriend put down a thousand dollars, betting that I wouldn’t show. The guy named Ethan didn’t say a single word. Instead, the campus queen suddenly tagged me: “Chloe, you’ll definitely be there tomorrow night, right?” I stared at the endless stream of mocking messages in the chat and laughed. None of them knew. For this long-awaited first meeting, I had worked my ass off to go from 220 pounds down to 130. And none of them knew that over the past two months, I had been asked for my Snapchat in public more times than in the first eighteen years of my life combined. I quietly put down five hundred dollars on the bet, betting that I would show up right on time. Then, amidst everyone’s wild cheering, I sent a single text. “A bet’s a bet. See you there.”

I stared at the group announcement for a solid ten seconds. “Congrats to Ethan on winning his brand-new, 220-pound girlfriend!” With over a hundred people in the chat, the messages were flying by fast. “Zach took a massive loss on this one.” “A loss? He got rid of a fat girl. That’s a massive win, bro.” “@Ethan, Ethan, come out and give us your victory speech!” Then, a photo was dropped into the chat. It was taken during my sophomore year sports day. Back then, I weighed nearly 220 pounds. My clothes were bursting at the seams as I sat on the last row of the bleachers, keeping my head down while eating a bagel. The person who took it was clearly far away. But no matter how blurry it was, there was no hiding how shockingly heavy I used to be. The person who posted it was none other than my online boyfriend. Zach. Just a minute ago, he was still sweet-talking me in our private Snapchat DMs. “Babe, it’s just a joke among friends.” “I just lost a game and sent your Snapchat to Ethan. It’s just for a silly couple’s challenge. Don’t take it seriously.” I didn’t reply. The group chat was laughing its head off. “Damn, with that size, Ethan’s going to need to rent a U-Haul to pick her up tomorrow, right?” “What’s the couple’s challenge again? A bridal carry? Is Ethan trying to end up in the ER with a broken spine?” “Maybe they should change it to ‘heavy lifting.’ Might be easier.” Zach sent a facepalm emoji. “Go easy on her, guys. Don’t make her cry.” He pretended to defend me, but in reality, he was just trampling my dignity even harder. My fingers turned cold. We had been dating online for eleven months. When he had insomnia, I stayed up all night playing Valorant with him. When he lost his games, I comforted him from midnight until dawn. When he was stressed before the final exams, I recorded voice notes every day to cheer him on. I even put Coastal State University as my first choice on my college application. Because he had told me. “Chloe, let’s go to the same college.” “When the semester starts, I’ll bring a huge bouquet of flowers to meet you.” And now, the day before college started, he had treated me like a cheap poker chip and lost me to someone else. Soon, someone set up a betting link in the group. “Will Chloe show up at the freshman mixer tomorrow night?” The pot kept growing. The amount of money betting that I wouldn’t dare to show had already passed three thousand dollars. Zach immediately put down a thousand. “She won’t show.” “She’s super shy. She cries if you even raise your voice at her.” I finally laughed out loud. So, he knew I would cry. Yet, he still brought over a hundred people to watch me break down. Just then, a new message popped up in the chat. Serena: “Guys, don’t talk about Chloe like that. Being a bit chubby is totally fine, as long as she has a good heart.” She was the undisputed campus queen of our freshman class. Just two days ago, she had posted a set of beach photos on her Instagram.  She tagged me. “Chloe, you’ll be there tomorrow night, right?” It looked like she was trying to help me out. But then she immediately added another line. “Everyone really doesn’t mean any harm. Don’t feel insecure about your looks.” The group chat instantly filled with praises of “Our campus queen is so kind-hearted.” I didn’t rush to reply. Instead, I clicked the betting link. Five hundred dollars. Betting that I would show up on time. The group went dead silent for two seconds, followed by a screen full of question marks. Zach privately messaged me. “Are you crazy?” “They have brutal mouths. Why are you coming?” I looked at myself in the mirror. My long hair fell over my shoulders, and my waist was so tiny it looked like it could be held with one hand. The features that had been buried under baby fat in high school were now sharp, striking, and almost intimidatingly beautiful. Over the past two months, whether I was at the mall, the subway, or the gym, I had been asked for my Snapchat twenty-seven times. A talent scout had even cornered me for half an hour, begging me to shoot a commercial. Zach knew absolutely none of this. Because I had wanted to save the best version of myself for the day we finally met in person. But now? He didn’t deserve this surprise. I wiped away the single tear that hadn’t even had the chance to fall, and replied to the group with four words. “A bet’s a bet.”

The next second, Zach called me. I ignored it. He called three more times before finally sending a barrage of voice notes. “Chloe, can you please stop throwing a tantrum?” “That’s just how the game works. I lost, so you temporarily become Ethan’s partner. It’s over after three simple challenges tomorrow night.” “We’re all classmates here. Don’t make me look bad.” I was so angry I laughed. He gave me away like a piece of property, and now he was blaming me for making him look bad. I opened the shared group file. The so-called “couple’s challenges” consisted of three things: First, feeding each other cake in public. Second, holding hands for a photo and posting it to the main freshman group. Third, the guy had to carry the girl in a bridal carry for ten seconds. Some people in the chat were already mocking Ethan. “Who came up with the third one? That’s straight-up attempted murder!” “Even Ethan at 6’2″ can’t lift 220 pounds, right?” “It’s fine. He only lost a game, at worst he’ll just lose a spine.” The guy named Ethan hadn’t said a single word from beginning to end. His profile picture was just a black screen, and his Instagram was completely empty. But everyone in the chat seemed to respect him, or fear him. They were vicious when mocking me, but when they tagged him, they only joked around lightly. No one actually dared to push him. Just as I was about to close the app, my best friend Maddie FaceTimed me. The moment she picked up, she went off. “Chloe! Is Zach’s brain in his ass?!” “Losing his girlfriend in a game? What is he playing, hot potato?” I was startled. “How do you know?” “Screenshots of that group chat have already spread to our high school alumni group!” Maddie was pacing back and forth on the screen, practically fuming. “I’ve already memorized that guy’s name. When school starts, I’m putting a trash bag over his head, and you can keep watch.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Seeing that I could still laugh, she felt even worse for me. “What are you going to do? Just post a picture of yourself right now and slap them all in the face?” “No.” “Why not?” I opened my closet, my eyes scanning the dresses hanging inside. “Pictures are boring.” They could say it was photoshopped, stolen, or fake. As long as they didn’t want to admit it, they’d find a hundred excuses. I wanted them to see me in person. With their own eyes. And regret it. Maddie caught on instantly, her eyes lighting up. “You’re actually going?” “Of course. I already put five hundred dollars down.” “Hell yes, you’re going!” She slammed her desk. “Not only are you going, you’re going to look so gorgeous they’ll collectively lose their minds.” “Zach bet a thousand dollars that you wouldn’t dare, right? Let’s take his money first, then watch him get humiliated.” Just as she finished speaking, there was a knock on my door. My mom came in with a plate of sliced fruit. She paused when she saw the dress laid out on my bed. “A party tomorrow?” “Yeah.” She hesitated for a few seconds before asking gently, “Are you meeting that boy you met online?” I went silent. For Zach, I had spent a whole year losing weight. At my worst, I ate only a few lettuce leaves a day. I was so hungry at night that my stomach cramped, and I had to sleep clutching a hot water bottle. Later, when my medical check-up showed issues, a nutritionist forced me to stop the extreme dieting. Only then did I start proper carb control and strength training. 220 pounds. 180 pounds. 140 pounds. And finally, 110 pounds. My mom had helped me exchange clothes through seven different sizes. She had also seen me stand on the scale countless times, my eyes red but too afraid to cry. She knew how much I had been looking forward to tomorrow. But she didn’t know that my anticipation had already turned to ashes. My mom set the fruit plate down. Before leaving, she gently stroked my hair. “Chloe, no matter what anyone else says, and whether you are thin or not, you are always my beautiful baby girl.” The moment the door closed, my nose stung with tears. But then, my phone buzzed. In the group chat, Ethan had finally appeared. He didn’t acknowledge any of the teasing. He only sent one short sentence. “She is not a prize.” The group chat instantly went quiet. A few seconds later, he tagged me. “If you don’t want to come tomorrow, you don’t have to.” Zach immediately popped up. “Ethan, it’s just a game. Don’t be a buzzkill.” Ethan didn’t reply to him. I stared at that sentence, “She is not a prize,” and for the first time, I clicked on his profile. For some reason, this guy felt a little familiar.

Zach and I had met on Valorant. Back then, I was a high school senior and weighed 220 pounds. The guys in my class nicknamed me “the linebacker.” The girls didn’t join in on the name-calling, but they would lower their voices and giggle whenever I walked past. Once, during gym class, we had to run the 800 meters. I finished last, panting so hard I almost fainted. The boy I had a crush on stood at the finish line, taking two steps back in disgust. “Don’t fall on me.” “It’ll feel like an earthquake. Who’s gonna catch you?” The whole class burst into laughter. That night, I hid in the game, not wanting to say a word. Zach was the one who added me. After hearing my voice, he kept asking. “Your voice is so sweet. Are you sure you’re not a voice actress?” After that, we became regular gaming partners. He would turn on his mic and defend me when random teammates flamed me. “It’s just a game. Why are you screaming at a girl?” He would also talk to me when I was feeling down. “Who says being chubby isn’t cute? I think it’s adorable.” “Chloe, I don’t care what you look like. I like you.” I believed him. Because of his words, for the very first time, I felt like I was worthy of being loved. Until six months ago, when he accidentally found my old Instagram account linked to my gaming profile. It had my high school name and my real face. From that day on, he became visibly cold. We went from dozens of texts a day to just a dry “good morning” and “good night.” I asked him what was wrong. He said he was stressed about college applications. Looking back, it wasn’t stress at all. He had just seen my photos. But he didn’t break up with me right away. Because I could carry him in games, help him with notes, and comfort him whenever he had an emotional breakdown. He just didn’t want to lose a convenient emotional trash can. So he dragged it out until the day before college started, using a stupid drinking game to casually throw me to someone else. My phone rang again. This time, I picked up. Zach’s voice was filled with annoyance. “What are you doing, playing good cop with Ethan in the group chat?” “He stood up for me. How is that playing good cop?” “Would a guy like Ethan stand up for a girl for no reason?” Zach sneered. “Don’t think just because you have a cute voice, you can actually hook him. Ethan’s standards are way higher than mine. You’ll just humiliate yourself if you go.” I stayed quiet for two seconds. “So, you think I’m not good enough for you?” “That’s not what I meant.” “Then why did you bet a thousand dollars that I wouldn’t dare to show up?” He choked on his words. After a brief pause, he spoke in a frustrated tone. “Fine, you want the truth? Here it is.” “Chloe, I already know what you look like.” “We were fine online, but we’re not a match in real life.” “And don’t blame me. It’s just human nature for guys to like pretty girls.” “I haven’t blocked you yet, which is already me being nice.” I gripped my phone, the lingering pain in my chest finally turning entirely cold. “Well, thank you then. You’re so polite.” Zach didn’t catch the sarcasm in my voice, and his tone softened slightly. “Just don’t come tomorrow. I’ll Venmo you the five hundred dollars back.” “Serena is going to be there. Standing next to her will only make you look more pathetic.” I asked slowly, “Are you guys close?” The other end of the line went dead silent. “Don’t overthink it. We’re just friends.” I smiled. It looked like tomorrow’s party was going to be even more interesting than I thought.

On the day of the mixer, I slept in until noon. My phone already had over 99 unread messages. The group chat was busy discussing the seating arrangements for tonight. Someone had intentionally posted a photo of a heavy-duty, reinforced chair. “We should save this one for Chloe. Normal chairs might not hold up.” “So thoughtful. You deserve an award for being the MVP.” Zach was also in the chat. “She’s not coming, guys. Don’t bother.” Serena: “Guys, don’t talk about Chloe like that. What if she actually shows up? Promise me we won’t laugh at her.” The more she tried to “defend” me, the harder they laughed. I didn’t say anything and just went to get ready. Maddie showed up at my house at 2:00 PM, carrying two massive makeup cases. “Today, I’m giving you a makeup look that will absolutely destroy men’s souls!” After curling my hair, she pulled a black slip dress from my closet. The cut of the dress was extremely simple, hugging my waist tightly and showing off my delicate collarbones and shoulders. When I walked out in it, Maddie literally stared at me for half a minute. Then, she clutched her heart. “Oh my god.” “What?” “If I were a guy, I’d gladly go to jail for you today.” I laughed at her antics. But she grabbed me and spun me around, looking more and more excited. “Serena’s sweet, innocent girl look works when she’s alone.” “But standing next to you? She’ll look like she’s just a background extra.” “Be nice.” “I’m just being objective.” At 5:00 PM, someone suddenly posted a video of the party venue. In the center of the table sat a large white cake. Written on it in red frosting was: Welcome, 220-lbs Girlfriend! Harsh laughter echoed in the background of the video. A guy with a buzzcut yelled at the camera: “Chloe! If you don’t show up soon, we’re going to do the couple’s challenges for you!” Zach was sitting on the couch. He glanced at the camera and smirked. “I told you, she doesn’t have the guts.” “She didn’t even dare to FaceTime me before. You really expect her to show up in person?” Serena gave him a playful shove. “Don’t talk about Chloe like that.” I closed the video. Maddie snatched her car keys, furious. “Let’s go. If I don’t slap their faces raw today, my name isn’t Maddie.” Just as we headed out, my phone buzzed with a friend request. The message read: Ethan. I accepted, and Ethan messaged me almost immediately. “I’m sorry. This whole thing started because of a game I was in. I’ll handle it.” “Do you need me to pick you up?” Staring at his apology, I felt a sudden warmth toward him. “No need, I’m already on my way.” “Also, I’ll cooperate with the challenges tonight.” The screen showed Typing… for a long time. Finally, he sent. “Don’t force yourself.” Half an hour later, the car pulled up in front of the hotel. Maddie wanted to come up with me, but her mom called with an urgent emergency. Before leaving, she grabbed my hand. “Call me the second anything goes wrong. If anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll drag them on the university forums tonight.” I nodded and got out of the car. As I walked through the lobby, the guy at the front desk stared at me. Even as I stepped into the elevator, I could still feel his eyes on me through the glass doors. The private room was at the very end of the third floor. I walked down the hallway in my heels. Even through the heavy doors, I could hear the laughter inside. “It’s six o’clock. She really didn’t show.” “Zach, that’s an easy grand in your pocket.” “I told you, with her size, she’d probably need an oxygen tank just to walk to the lobby.” “Ethan isn’t here either. Did he run away too?” Then came Zach’s casual, mocking voice. “I told her not to come.” “People like her can only live in fantasy land online. Showing up in person is just a public execution.” Serena chimed in with a sweet laugh. “Chloe probably didn’t mean to lie.” “Maybe she just really wanted to feel loved.” Another burst of laughter erupted in the room. I stood outside the door and slowly raised my hand. Just then, a deep voice sounded behind me. “Chloe?” I turned around. Under the dim hallway lights stood a tall guy in a black button-down shirt. His features were sharp, cold, and incredibly handsome. When he saw me, his face filled with visible shock. “Are you…” I smiled at him. “Ethan?” Inside the room, someone had started a countdown. “Last ten seconds. If she’s not here, the bet is closed.” “Ten.” “Nine.” “Eight.” Ethan was still staring at me. I turned back around, gripped the doorknob, and just as the countdown was about to hit zero, I gently pushed the door open.

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The plan I had spent half a year perfecting finally won over the wedding contract for the top celebrity. That directly turned our struggling company into a huge overnight success. Right after the wedding ended, I collapsed from days of pulling all-nighters and was carried into the hospital. On my hospital bed, my boss, Harrison, came to see me personally. His tone was gentle. “Victoria, I heard your parents aren’t in the best health. How about this? We won’t give you the commission for that $10,000 wedding contract.” “When your parents pass away in the future, the company will throw you a $20,000 funeral for free. Think of it as a perk.” As he finished, he looked like he was showing off his generosity, squinting as he waited for me to thank him over and over. I froze on the hospital bed, completely stunned. On my first day back at the company after being discharged, Harrison urgently called me into his office. “Victoria, get started on a new proposal right now!” “The top celebrity Samantha’s victory party has to have the highest-tier budget!” “This kind of big-name deal, you have to land it! We absolutely cannot let any other wedding company steal our spotlight!” I idly twirled the lollipop I’d just unwrapped between my fingers and looked up casually. “A wedding? Sorry, but I only know how to plan funerals.”

Harrison slammed his hand on the desk and shouted at me. “Victoria! You’re the company’s head planner. Planning wedding proposals is your job!” I met his eyes and said firmly, every word landing hard. “Harrison, when have I ever slacked off on my actual work?” “The wedding for celebrity Samantha had over thirty companies fighting over it.” “I drank with her agent until I was throwing up blood, and I revised the proposal to version eighteen before it was finally approved.” “For half a year, I slept less than three hours a day, and on the wedding day I passed out right backstage from exhaustion. You know all of this better than anyone.” Harrison’s face darkened. “Are you saying that to take credit? That’s all work you were supposed to do anyway!” My voice stayed steady. “Harrison, I finished everything that was mine to do, and I nearly gave up half my life doing it.” “Shouldn’t the $10,000 commission for that wedding contract belong to me too?” His eyes rolled, and his tone softened. “Samantha’s wedding had very high costs. There was basically no profit.” “You need to think bigger and put the company first. Don’t get hung up on a little gain or loss.” Before Harrison could finish, my eyes flicked to the payroll slip he had just signed. My salary: $2,000 base pay. Chloe, the new hire: $8,000 base pay + $10,000 wedding commission. A wave of anger rose in me that I could not hold back. I stood up and pointed at the payroll slip. “Chloe hasn’t even planned a single event since joining the company. Why does she get the $10,000 commission?” At that, Harrison hurriedly covered the payroll slip, then quickly lifted his water cup and took a sip to hide his guilty conscience. “Chloe is an art talent we finally managed to poach from France!” “Victoria, you’re a company veteran. Don’t be so petty. There’s no need to fight a new hire over this.” Just then, Harrison’s phone rang, and the caller ID clearly showed: ‘Honey, Chloe’. Only then did I understand that Harrison and Chloe were secretly a couple. No wonder he always favored her so much, why she walked into the company and immediately got a base salary far above mine, and why he gave all that $10,000 commission that should have been mine to this newcomer. After Harrison answered, Chloe’s excited voice came through the speaker. “Baby! Samantha’s wedding setup went viral online after the wedding. Everyone’s calling it the gold standard for weddings!” “She’s also holding a celebration party for her big win, and she’s handing that over to our company too!” Harrison’s eyes lit up, and he looked overjoyed. Deliberately right in front of me, he raised his voice. “Chloe, Samantha brings her own traffic and attention. This celebration party is yours, fully in your hands!” “Once it’s done, you’ll be the hottest planner in the industry!” A coy “Love you~” came from the other end of the call. After hanging up, he leaned back in his chair, smug. “Victoria, you don’t need to handle celebrity Samantha’s celebration party anymore. The company already landed it.” “There’s also a wedding for the billionaire’s son here. Get the proposal done as soon as possible.” “If you don’t do it, then get out. The company doesn’t need a planner like you!” Because of the celebrity wedding I had planned, the company had blown up, and Harrison had straightened his back too. He was like a completely different person. Before, when the company was so bad off it was close to shutting down, he had practically begged me to land Samantha’s contract, saying it was the company’s last lifeline. I had poured my heart into it and focused all my energy on the proposal, pulling countless all-nighters before I finally forced my way through that hard nut to crack. Right then I clenched my fists and stayed silent. He waved his hand impatiently. “Enough, enough. Don’t just stand there. Get out there and work!” “When your parents’ funeral comes around, the company will cover the whole thing! Is that enough for you?” I let out a cold laugh and slapped my resignation letter onto the desk. “Save that for yourself. I quit.”

Back at my desk, I packed my things and got ready to leave. Chloe suddenly rushed over and snatched my laptop away. My face went cold. “That’s my personal property. Give it back.” She ignored me and started flipping through the laptop, lifting her brows with a sneer. “I’m short on inspiration for my celebration party proposal, so I’ll borrow your computer and see if I can get some ideas.” “There are private things on there. I’m not lending it to you.” I reached for it, but she nimbly dodged backward. Two male planners beside her immediately stepped in front of me and said with obvious disdain, “Victoria, Samantha’s wedding is the company’s top priority. It’s just your computer. Why are you being so stingy?” “Yeah, have a bigger picture. Borrowing it won’t cost you a chunk of flesh!” Chloe wore a smug smile and casually opened my chat box, then deliberately turned the screen toward everyone. “Victoria isn’t supposed to be so busy she doesn’t even have time to sleep?” “So she’s busy flirting with Howard! Everyone, come look. They’re talking so hot and heavy!” A few coworkers immediately crowded around, pointing at the laptop. “Wow, you really can’t judge a book by its cover. Victoria looks pure on the outside, but she chats with her boyfriend so openly. She’s really pretty freaky.” “No wonder she’s so good at wedding proposals. Turns out she’s been head over heels for a guy, and she’s just using her love-brain to find inspiration?” “Whoa, she’s hidden it well! I knew it. How else could she have landed Samantha’s contract? She must have slept her way into it through the agent.” As soon as he finished speaking, a wave of laughter broke out across the office. I was shaking with anger, my fingertips trembling. Clenching my teeth, I took out my phone, opened the video recorder, pointed the camera at the crowd, and said coldly, “Keep talking! Every bit of slander and every private invasion you do today, I’ll record all of it and hand it over to the police!” The crowd instantly went quiet, one by one slinking away and shrinking back to their desks. From the corner, one of the planners I had personally trained muttered in a low voice, “Tch, can’t even take a joke. What a petty person.” “Acting so high and mighty. And now she’s using the police to scare people.” When Chloe heard that, she turned to me with a standard fake smile on her face. “Victoria, we’re all coworkers who see each other all the time. It’s just a joke. Was it really necessary to record video?” “If people hear about this, they’ll say you’re petty and cold.” Another coworker immediately chimed in, their voice not loud but sharp enough to sting. “Exactly! Chloe’s way more thoughtful than Victoria as our head planner. I’ve been sick of Victoria acting so superior for ages!” My chest felt like it was stuffed with fire. Normally, all the wedding proposals my coworkers made had to be reviewed by me before being sent to the clients in the end. To be responsible for a couple’s once-in-a-lifetime wedding, and also to help my coworkers grow into strong planners, I had always been strict with my reviews, never daring to be careless for a second. But to them, that responsibility had become nitpicking, and over time they had built up a stomach full of complaints. Chloe had only been at the company a few days, and she had dragged coworkers off after work to drink all night without caring about the wedding timeline for the client. The next day, everyone showed up late together and delayed important work. She said a few soft words to Harrison in his office, and the whole thing was brushed aside as if nothing happened. So everyone stood on her side and treated her like a savior. I stared coldly at Chloe. “Give me the computer back.” She was startled by the chill in my eyes, but in the next second the corner of her mouth curled into a provocative smile. Then, Chloe deliberately loosened her hand. Crash! The laptop slammed hard onto the floor. I looked at the laptop with the shattered screen, and slowly smiled.

I pulled up my phone payment code and shoved it in front of Chloe. “$1,200. Scan it and pay up.” Her eyes flickered, and she hurriedly covered her hand while changing the subject, putting on a show of frowning. “Your computer hit me, and my hand hurts!” The coworkers followed along and started jeering. “Victoria, look at you. You injured her hand, so hurry up and apologize!” I ignored them and pushed the payment code even closer. “Cut the crap. Scan it. Pay me.” Chloe’s face flushed red, and she argued back with her neck stiff. “Your crappy computer should have been thrown out ages ago. And you still want $1,200? Who do you think you’re fooling? Do you think I’m some sucker?” Amid the arguing, Harrison came out of his office and shielded Chloe behind him. “Victoria, aren’t you resigning?” “You’re still making a scene and bullying coworkers before you leave. What exactly are you trying to do?” I lifted my eyes and looked straight at Harrison. “Chloe went through my private computer without permission, then deliberately smashed it. Either she pays, or I call the police.” Chloe hid behind Harrison a little more, looking like she had been deeply wronged. “Victoria was terrifying just now. She scared me, and my hand got hurt too…” Harrison frowned deeply and looked at me with scorn. “Victoria, I think you’re really obsessed with money!” “It’s just a little thing between coworkers, and the first thing out of your mouth is payment or the police. Is it really that serious?” “If you dare to make trouble here today, then when you join your next company, I’ll personally tell them everything truthfully. Let’s see which company would still dare to hire you!” Just then, my phone vibrated, and a message from my boyfriend Howard popped up. “The new studio is already rented! ‘Victoria Wedding Planning Studio’ will be officially open soon!” Seeing that message, my heart finally settled down completely. Harrison had only one obsession in his whole life: making his wedding company number one in the country. But now, his biggest rival had appeared. Seeing that I still hadn’t said anything after a long time, Chloe thought Harrison’s threat had scared me. She deliberately acted generous and gave him a look. “Harrison, since Victoria did contribute a little to the company before, how about letting her stay on as my assistant to run errands? I don’t mind.” Harrison understood what she meant and picked up the thread. “Victoria, I’ll give you a chance.” “If you can go sign the wedding contract for the billionaire’s eldest son, the company can barely keep you. Otherwise, pack your things and get out now!” “Without the company platform, you’re nothing!” Looking at his arrogant face, I had no patience left. “Harrison, when the company first started, there were only three of us.” “I handled everything myself, from signing clients to design to execution, and I kept it going little by little until now.” “I had feelings for this place, so I kept giving in again and again. But now I don’t want to give in anymore. The $10,000 commission and the computer compensation are both what I deserve.” I took half a step forward and stared at his evasive eyes, word by word. “Do you really have to make this so ugly that we can’t part on good terms?”

“Victoria, you don’t know what’s good for you!” “The company trained you. Landing a celebrity wedding was because you got to ride on the company’s coattails, and now you’re turning around and biting the hand that fed you by demanding money?” Harrison pointed at me and snapped harshly. “Which rule says that $10,000 should be yours? What right do you have to ask for it?” “I’m the boss. I give it to whoever I want!” His shameless attitude actually made me laugh. Realizing that talking to him any more was useless, I directly took out my phone and called the police. At a glance from Harrison, two coworkers immediately moved in to snatch my phone. In the struggle, the receptionist hurried over. “Stuart, Samantha’s agent, is here!” As soon as the words were out, a stylish man pushed the door open and walked in. His gaze swept lightly over Harrison without stopping, then he went straight to me. “Victoria, Samantha only approves your celebration party proposal. She asked me to come handle the details.” Harrison knew that Samantha, as a celebrity, couldn’t show up herself, and her agent was basically the same as her. He immediately put on a full smile and stepped forward, shoving me aside with some force. “Stuart, perfect timing!” “For Ms. Samantha’s celebration party, our company has a much better planner. We guarantee she’ll be satisfied!” As he spoke, he pulled Chloe forward. “This is our company’s new head planner. She just came back from studying in France. Her taste and creativity are ten times better than Victoria’s!” Stuart frowned. “No need. I came specifically to find Victoria.” Harrison’s face stiffened, and he put on a pained, righteous look while hiding a blade in his words. “Stuart, to be honest, even though Victoria is an employee of my company, I have to tell you the truth. All of her designs and proposals were copied from Chloe!” As soon as those words came out, the entire office went silent. His shameless twisting of the truth was honestly ridiculous. I smiled slightly. “I copied her? I’ve been in the industry for five years. She’s only been at the company for three months. What exactly would I be copying from her?” Chloe stepped out at the right time, lifting her chin with total confidence. “Your previous proposals were all copied from other people!” “The reason Ms. Samantha’s wedding setup was so stunning had nothing to do with you. It was all my creativity!” “Those French-style props at the wedding, from the flowers to the decor pieces, all came from my ideas!” She picked up a tablet and quickly handed it to Stuart. “Stuart, look! These are all my design sketches from then. Victoria just followed my ideas to make the proposal!” I glanced at the design sketches on her tablet and recognized them at once as the original drafts I had drawn myself. No wonder she had wanted to smash my computer before. She had already stolen the drawings for herself. A few coworkers immediately crowded in to back her up, sounding so certain it was as if it were true. “I saw Victoria sneaking around in Planner Xu’s computer with my own eyes!” “Exactly! She always had me help find other people’s proposals to copy. Since she was my superior, I never dared say anything, even though I was furious!” “She doesn’t have any real skill. It’s all about stealing other people’s ideas!” Amid the rising chorus of accusations, Harrison sighed and shook his head in a show of sorrow. “Victoria, you’re not fit to be a planner if all you can do is copy!” “From this moment on, you’re no longer an employee of our company!” Then he turned to Stuart with a flattering smile. “Stuart, don’t be fooled by her! What kind of person is fit to plan Ms. Samantha’s celebration party?” “Chloe is the one with real ability. She’ll definitely satisfy Ms. Samantha!” Stuart gave a smile that was hard to read. His gaze landed on me, and the moment our eyes met, we both understood each other without saying a word. “I’ve known Victoria since we were kids. No one knows her skills and character better than I do.” “To be honest, your company landed this celebrity wedding because of Victoria too.” “Since she’s no longer your employee, then there’s no need for us to keep talking.” “Whichever wedding company Victoria goes to, I’ll cooperate with that one. I’ll wait for her word. I’m busy, so I’m leaving first.” After Stuart left, the office fell into a dead silence. Harrison was the first to react, forcing out a smile with all his might. “Victoria, Ms. Samantha’s celebration party still needs you to handle it.” I tilted my head and looked at him. “Didn’t I say it already? I only know how to plan funerals.” “Oh, right. You smashed my computer and stole my design drafts. Copyright infringement. I wonder how many years that gets?”

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On my eighth birthday, I wore the princess dress my mom had sewn for me with her own hands and made a wish under my whole family’s love. Mom held me and said I was her most precious baby. But overnight, it was like my mom had been replaced by an evil ghost. She cut off my long hair and cut up all my princess dresses. She transferred me from an expensive private school to the worst elementary school in the city. Dad asked her if she had lost her mind. Mom only said coldly, “I regret giving birth to her.” Later, my classmates cornered me in an alley and stole my allowance, and I ran home crying. But Mom did not even look at me and only pushed a bowl of cold rice in front of me. “Why are you crying? In this world, the most useless thing is tears.” I had a high fever, hugged her leg, and begged her to take me to the hospital. But she shook me off hard, went shopping with her friends, and left me at home burning up until I was barely conscious. I only wanted to know: Mom, why don’t you love me anymore?

I woke up in bed, my fever still not gone, and my whole body hurt. Dad was anxiously wiping my face with a wet towel, his eyes red. “Maria, I’m here, don’t be scared.” Yesterday, Mom left me home alone, and I burned with fever until I was barely conscious. Dad was the one who came home and found me collapsed on the floor. The door sounded, and Mom came back, carrying several shopping bags in her hands. When she saw me, she frowned. “Why are you still in bed?” Dad stood up, and the chair rocked from the motion. “Catherine, Maria has a high fever. Where did you go yesterday?” Mom casually threw the shopping bags onto the sofa. “Shopping. I bought a few pieces of clothing.” Her tone was light and careless. Dad was shaking with anger, his fists clenching and loosening. “Maria was burning up like this yesterday, and you were actually in the mood to go shopping?” Mom glanced at me, her tone impatient. “She won’t die. It’s normal for kids to get fevers.” “I’m taking her to the hospital.” Mom blocked the doorway. “What hospital? What a waste of money.” For the first time, Dad got physical with her and shoved her away hard. “Catherine, are you crazy?” Dad picked me up and rushed to the hospital. I looked back and saw Mom standing where she was, with no expression on her face. At the hospital, the doctor gave me a fever-reducing shot. Dad held me and sat in the hallway, tears falling down his face. “I’m sorry, Maria. I didn’t protect you.” I wanted to tell Dad it was not his fault, but my throat was too hoarse for me to speak. When we got home late at night, I saw a familiar pink color in the trash can by the door. It was my favorite stuffed doll, the little bunny I had slept with for three years. It had been cut to shreds by scissors, cotton bursting out of its body, and one of its eyes had been dug out. Mom stood in the living room, still holding those scissors in her hand. “You’re this old and still playing with childish things like this. How embarrassing.” But Mom, I was only eight this year. I cried and tried to pick the doll back up. Mom stepped on the doll’s face and ground her foot down hard. “Why are you crying? Only useless things cry.” I cried even harder. I missed my bunny, and I missed the mom I used to have. Dad shoved Mom away. He crouched down, wiped away my tears, and said softly. “Don’t cry, Maria. Tomorrow I’ll take you to buy a new one, one even prettier than this.” Mom crossed her arms and looked at Dad and me crouched on the floor. “Go buy it, then. Go ahead and buy it. See if I won’t throw the new one away too.” After saying that, she turned and walked into the room. I grabbed Dad’s shirt hem in fear, shook my head, and said. “Dad, let’s not buy one. I don’t want a new doll anymore.” Dad picked me up with heartache and sighed. “Okay, we won’t buy one. Mom has been in a bad mood lately.” Soon, the first day of school arrived. Dad took me to the school gate, crouched down, and said to me: “Make more friends at school and try to be happy.” I nodded hard and held my backpack tightly.

Halfway through the second class, my homeroom teacher called me out of the classroom and said Mom was waiting for me at the school gate. A small surge of hope rose in my heart. Was Mom here to pick me up, or to bring me something? I moved step by step to the school gate. When Mom saw me, she pulled me toward the principal’s office. “Process a transfer.” The principal froze, looked at me, then looked at Mom. “Ma’am, the child has just enrolled…” “I said process a transfer.” Mom’s voice was very loud, drawing other teachers over to watch. I tugged on the corner of her clothes and begged her in a small voice. “Mom, I want to go to school here. I like the teachers and classmates here.” Mom shook off my hand. I staggered and hit the file cabinet beside me. My forehead struck the corner of the cabinet, and it hurt so much that tears flowed out. Mom did not even look at me and only repeated to the principal, “Process a transfer.” The teachers around us all looked at us with strange eyes. Mom ignored everything and dragged me outside by the arm. The car drove for a long time, and when it stopped, there was a very run-down elementary school in front of me. The paint at the school gate had all peeled off, and the playground was full of potholes. “I’ve already completed the paperwork for you. From now on, you’ll keep going to school here.” Mom pointed at the shabby school gate. I hugged her leg and begged her while crying, “Mom, I don’t want to go to school here. Please.” She pushed me to the ground. My whole body fell into the muddy water at the school gate, my uniform got dirty, and my knee was scraped open. Several students passing by pointed at me and burst into laughter. “Look at that idiot!” “She’s so gross.” “Her mom doesn’t want her anymore.” I lifted my head, and through my blurry tears, I saw her back as she left. She left without looking back, leaving me sitting alone in the muddy water, crying. The students here were savage. They mocked my old uniform that had been washed pale, stole my lunch, and threw my homework notebook into puddles. I did not dare cry, and I did not dare fight back. Because Mom had said that tears were the most useless thing. I learned to endure and learned to swallow all my grievances into my stomach. That night, after Dad found out, he and Mom had a fierce argument. The vases in the house were smashed all over the floor. I hid behind my bedroom door and saw Dad angrily questioning Mom through the crack. “Catherine, how can you be so cruel?” “Do you have someone else outside? Is that why you’re torturing Maria like this?” Mom’s voice was unusually calm. “I don’t. I just regret it.” “I regret giving birth to her.” Those words stabbed into my heart like a knife. I covered my mouth and did not dare cry out loud. So I was a mistake, an existence that made her regret. I gently closed the door. I lay in bed unable to sleep, Mom’s words echoing over and over in my ears. The next morning, I sat up in bed, my eyes dry and sore. Out of habit, I fumbled around beside the bed, wanting to hug my fluffy Ayuna. But I felt nothing. It was not on the bed, and it was not under the bed. Ayuna, the kitten I had raised for two years, was gone. “Ayuna? Ayuna!” I searched the whole house, went through every cabinet, lay on the floor and looked under the bed, and shouted until my throat went hoarse. Mom walked out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water, her expression indifferent. She pointed out the window. On the lawn downstairs, a half-grown stray dog was holding a clump of white fur covered in dirt and blood in its mouth. “I’m allergic to cat hair, so I threw it down.” My mind went completely blank. I rushed to the window and saw Ayuna’s small body lying on the ground, motionless. It would never rub its fluffy head against my cheek again. It would never quietly lick away my tears when I cried again. I wanted to curse at her, but my throat was blocked, and I could not make a sound. I rushed over and swept the glass from her hand onto the floor. Mom slapped me to the ground. “Look at you. You’re attacking me over a cat?” She crouched down and looked at me irritably. “I’m telling you, in this house, anything that annoys me, I can throw out.” “That includes the people and things that make you cry, and it includes you too.” I was so scared that I did not dare cry anymore, and I did not dare make trouble anymore. That night, after Dad came home, he saw my swollen red eyes and pulled me into his arms. He wrapped me tightly in his arms, and the force felt like he was searching for something to hold him up. He let out a long sigh, as if he had made some important decision. “From now on, I will always be by your side.”

On Christmas Day, the school organized a performance show, and my teacher chose me to be the host. I jumped up with joy. After I got home, I kept the news carefully hidden. I only practiced secretly in front of the mirror when no one was around. “Dear teachers, dear classmates, hello, everyone…” I practiced again and again. I thought that as long as I performed well enough, as long as I was outstanding enough and became Mom’s pride. Then maybe Mom would not throw me away like she threw away Ayuna, and maybe she would love me again. On the day of the show, I stood onstage in my school uniform. Dad had specially asked for leave to come watch my performance, and he sat in the first row. He made a cheering gesture at me, and my heart felt warm. When it was my turn to announce the next performance. “Next, please enjoy the dance…” I saw Mom carrying a white plastic bucket in her hand, walking toward me step by step. I froze, not understanding what she was going to do. “Mom?” I called tentatively. She did not answer me. Under the eyes of all the teachers and students in the school, she walked up to me and raised the bucket in her hand. A bucket of ice water poured down from the top of my head. My hair stuck to my face, my vision blurred, and my whole body was soaked. Whispers rose from below the stage. “Look at her. She looks so stupid!” “What is her mom doing? That’s so weird! Why would she treat Maria like that?” Mom’s voice rang out. “Your hosting is a complete mess. Go home and be embarrassing there.” Dad rushed onto the stage and took off his suit jacket to wrap me up. He held me very tightly, and I could feel his body trembling. “Catherine, are you even human?” Dad carried me through the chaotic crowd. The teachers and school leaders tried to come forward, but Dad’s icy gaze forced them back. He stuffed me into the car and did not glance at Mom as she chased after us. When we got home, Dad brought up divorce. “I’m taking Maria with me.” He flung a document out of his briefcase and slammed it onto the coffee table, a divorce agreement. That document made Mom’s body shake violently. But she quickly straightened her back, her face cold. “Fine. Take her away.” “I won’t pay a cent in child support.” She picked up a pen and signed the divorce agreement. I saw that the hand holding the pen was shaking badly, almost unable to hold onto it. After signing, she threw the pen down, turned around, and rushed into the bathroom. Immediately after, I heard the sound of vomiting from inside. The tiny bit of satisfaction that had risen in my heart because of her signature was shattered by that vomiting sound. I wanted to go forward and check on her, but my feet felt nailed to the floor.

Dad packed our luggage. Two suitcases stood in the entryway. He crouched down. “Maria, we’re leaving tomorrow.” I nodded, but for some reason, panic stirred in my heart. Late at night, I woke up thirsty and went downstairs to drink water. I saw Mom sitting alone in the living room, completely still. I ignored her and walked toward the kitchen. After I filled the glass, I turned around and prepared to go upstairs. “You’re not allowed to leave.” Mom spoke in a hoarse voice. I pretended not to hear and kept walking upstairs. Rapid footsteps sounded behind me, and Mom grabbed my arm. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere!” I struggled desperately and cried out for Dad. “Mom, let go of me. You’re hurting me!” She grabbed me even harder and threw me to the side. My knee hit the corner of the coffee table, sending a sharp pain through me. During the struggle, something flew out of her pocket. It rolled to my feet, and it was a silver pendant with a glowing screen. On it was a red number that kept jumping. [Life Value: 59] While she was not paying attention, I picked up the pendant in one grab and clutched it tightly in my palm. “Listen to me carefully.” Mom grabbed my hair and forced me to lift my head and look at her. “Your dad wants to take you away, right? The two of you think I’m dead, right?” I shook my head while crying. “I didn’t. I didn’t think that.” She let go, and I fell heavily to the floor. “You didn’t? Then why are you leaving me?” Mom crouched down and pinched my face. “Do you think I’m a failure as a mom? Do you hate me?” I did not dare speak. Her grip grew tighter and tighter. “Talk!” “It hurts, Mom. It hurts.” I was in so much pain that I could only squeeze out a few words. She suddenly let go and turned to rush into the kitchen. When she came back out, there was a stick in her hand. “You want to leave, right? Then I’ll break your legs first.” She raised the stick and swung it down at my legs. I screamed in fear and rolled to the side. The stick hit the coffee table, making a huge sound. Dad woke up in shock and rushed downstairs in his pajamas, and when he saw this scene, his eyes turned red. “Catherine, you’re crazy.” He lunged over to snatch the stick from Mom’s hand, and the two of them started wrestling. Mom cried and screamed. “She can’t leave me. I gave birth to her. If she leaves, she’ll die. What right does she have to leave with you?” Dad snatched the stick away and threw it aside. He picked me up and checked my injuries. “Maria, are you okay? Where does it hurt?” I pointed to my bleeding knee and my face that had been pinched red. Dad’s expression became very ugly. “Catherine, do you still have even a little bit of what a mother should be?” Mom collapsed onto the floor, her hair disheveled. “I just want her to stay. I just won’t let her leave.” “She is my daughter, and I have the final say.” Dad carried me upstairs. “We’re already divorced. Tomorrow morning, we’re moving out.” Mom screamed behind us. “Try leaving. If you leave, Maria really will die.” Dad did not take her words to heart. After we returned to the room, Dad treated my wounds, and his hands were shaking. “I’m sorry, Maria. Tomorrow we’ll go stay at a hotel first.” My heart felt both chaotic and empty, and I did not know whether I should feel sad or scared. After Dad left, I locked the door, lay against it, and listened for movement outside. The living room was very quiet, so Mom must have gone back to her room. I opened my palm, and the number on the pendant had become 60. My eyes widened, and I could not believe it. What was this thing? Why did the number increase when Mom hit me?

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