1 At the high school reunion, someone introduced me to my secret boyfriend of five years. “Director Coop, Beth is an associate researcher in your department. Why don’t you two give it a shot?” I stepped toward him, wanting to use this moment to finally come clean. But Coop took a step back and gestured toward his childhood sweetheart, who had just returned from abroad. “No need. I already have someone I love.” To avoid suspicion, his face was cold and distant. “If you’re eager to get married, I can introduce you to someone. He’d suit you quite well.” Looking at the three-foot gap he put between us, I let out a dry, hollow laugh. Five years in the dark. Five years where Coop was perpetually single to the world, perpetually keeping his distance from me. I waited five years for him to go public. I wasn’t waiting anymore. “Sure. Send his contact over.” … The air went dead silent. Coop looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to actually agree. He frowned, about to ask something, but under the expectant gazes of his friends, he pulled out his phone and pushed a contact card over. He called the guy right then and there. “Didn’t you say your family is pressing you to settle down?” “I found a blind date for you. Beth, a Ph.D. graduate, senior researcher in our lab. You guys should chat.” After listening to the guy’s profuse thanks, Coop hung up. If a mutual friend hadn’t called him over, he would have treated me like a ghost, just as he always did, maintaining that strict three-foot perimeter. The bitter burn of bourbon exploded in my mouth. I dug my fingernails deep into my palm just to keep my face composed. Another friend, seeing my willingness to date, pushed a second contact card to my phone. “He’s been asking me about you for ages, but you always refused. His background is solid, Beth. Give him a chance.” Instinctively, I glanced toward Coop. He was standing beside Sienna, a soft smile on his lips, not sparing me a single look. Coop’s buddy chuckled, teasing him. “Coop, everyone knows Beth clings to you because she’s crazy about you. Giving her a matchmaker setup is brutal.” “Yeah, she bought thousands of dollars worth of boba and coffees just to butter us up over the years, and you never gave her an inch.” Sienna swirled her wine glass, raising an eyebrow at him. “Were you waiting for me to come back from overseas all this time? If so, why haven’t you confessed yet?” Coop looked at her dotingly. “Because the ceremony isn’t ready yet. My Sienna deserves the best.” Sienna was beaming. My throat tightened at his words. When we got together, there was no grand gesture, no ceremony. Coop had simply asked me, “Beth, do you like me?” I had harbored a crush on him for three years. When I nodded, he said, “We can be together, but we stay secret. If a single person finds out, we’re done.” Back then, blinded by the pure joy of being with him, I thought he recognized my sincerity. I believed our hidden love would one day see the light. I squeezed my way into his social circle, enduring cold shoulders, holding out hope that he would one day introduce me as his girl. Instead, he pushed me off to another man just to draw a line between us. I smiled, a bitter sting behind my eyes. Seeing me add the second guy, my friend sighed in relief. “You used to reject me saying you had someone you loved, but that guy kept you on a leash without making it official. It’s high time you moved on! Trust me, this guy won’t disappoint!” I kept my head down. He was right. I should have moved on long ago. The friend lowered his voice and glanced at Coop. “By the way, the guy Coop pushed to you is Garrett from the corporate side. Skip that one. He’s a notorious player, sleeps around with models. Everyone knows his family is desperate for him to marry. He’ll take anyone willing.” Before leaving, my friend muttered under his breath, “How could Coop say you two are a good match?” The smile froze on my face. So Coop’s idea of a good match was simply two people desperate to tie the knot. A while back, when my parents pressured me about marriage, I texted Coop. I thought he’d finally agree to meet my parents and go public. Instead, he ignored my message and didn’t come home for a month. If Coop had no interest in entering my world, I was done forcing my way into his. I turned and left, submitting an official request for a transfer out of Boston. Just then, a text popped up from the second blind date: [Are you free to meet tomorrow?] After replying with a time and place, I saw Coop’s latest post on social media: My best friends around me, and the love of my life right across the table. The photo showed him surrounded by friends, with Sienna occupying the center spot. In the group chat, messages flooded in: [Nice, Coop! Sienna’s finally back! Congrats to the old flames going official!] [What do you mean going official? Coop loving Sienna has been common knowledge forever.] [What about Beth? Didn’t she chase Coop for five years?] [Chase? That was pure desperate clinging. Now that the true queen is back, why would Coop waste time on her?] [Even before Sienna landed, Coop had a proposal ceremony and a diamond ring prepped. Is it that hard to see who he really loves?] [Wait… did we post this in the group chat where Beth is in?] A second later, I was removed from the group chat. A dull, suffocating ache swelled in my chest. To fit into his world, I had begged him to add me to that group. I sent countless digital gift cards to liven up the atmosphere, but Coop had only frowned. “Don’t bother sending money, they don’t care about a few bucks.” After that, the group went quiet. Coop told me, “Everyone’s busy with work, nobody has time to chat.” Turns out they weren’t busy; they just had a separate group without me. And the grand public reveal and ceremony I had yearned for? Sienna merely had to exist, and Coop handed it to her on a silver platter. I sat by the river, replying to messages before finally heading home. Exiting the elevator, I ran right into Coop and Sienna following close behind him. Seeing me, his brows furrowed in immediate guarded hostility. “Beth, what are you doing here?” I opened my mouth to say I was just coming home, but remembered his strict rule: never reveal we lived together. To avoid suspicion, he had set rigid schedules for when I could enter and leave. Even living under the same roof, we had never walked through the front door together. Afraid Sienna might suspect something, Coop cut in sharply before I could speak. “Can you stop following me around? I don’t want people getting the wrong idea.” I stood frozen in place. My phone buzzed with a message he had just sent: [Don’t come back for a while.] [Sienna just got back and has nowhere to stay, so I’m letting her stay here.] [I had your stuff packed and sent to the outer suburbs. Move there for now.] I stepped aside toward the elevator. Sienna asked him who I was. Coop’s tone was dismissive and flat. “Just a persistent admirer. Can’t believe she followed me all the way to my front door. Go ahead inside. I’ll have security tighten up the floor.” Before the elevator doors slid shut, Sienna’s cute laugh echoed out. “Coop, you haven’t changed the door code in five years! It’s still the exact day I went abroad!” “I told you to wait five years for me, and you really counted down every single day?” My hand froze on the elevator button. When I first moved in and learned the door code, I had been secretly thrilled. Coop refused to make our relationship public, but the door code was the exact date we got together. I thought it was his silent way of showing love, that he was just bad at grand gestures. Turns out even that tiny bit of joy belonged to someone else. Heavy-hearted, I went to the outer suburb apartment and unpacked my things. Late at night, seeing that I hadn’t replied, Coop sent another text: [Don’t overthink it. Sienna just returned, and I’m just helping an old friend as best I can.] [As for going public, give me a little more time.] I didn’t reply. I just removed him from my pinned contacts. The next morning, I went to work as usual. My assistant mentioned a new addition to the department. When I walked in, I saw Sienna. Coop introduced her to everyone without an ounce of hesitation. “Sienna is a close friend of mine. Her research abroad aligns with our lab’s focus, so she’s here to observe and collaborate. Please take good care of her on my account.” Although Coop was the Director of the research institute, he was notoriously strict about nepotism. When his own mentor’s son wanted to tour his research lab, Coop had bluntly shut him down. Wealthy donors trying to buy research spots were turned away without exception. Hearing him personally ask the team to favor Sienna, whispers rippled through the room. “Director Coop is usually strictly by the book! For him to say that, their relationship must be crazy deep!” “Sienna, are you two an item?” “Come on, tell us! We promise not to spill!” Sienna glanced sideways at Coop, a knowing smile at the edge of her lips. “Us? Well, we grew up together. Childhood sweethearts, you could say.” At her words, Coop’s ears flushed red. Someone cheered with a chuckle, “Childhood sweethearts! Match made in heaven!” Coop’s smile widened. He cleared his throat lightly. “To welcome our newcomer, lunch today is on me. Pick the most expensive place.” The rest of the staff started loudly teasing Sienna, calling her “Mrs. Director” and “the boss’s lady.” I stood still, quietly watching Sienna. The spot right beside Coop, three years of crushing, five years of dating. I had dreamed of this exact moment, dreaming of the day Coop would proudly introduce me as his girlfriend. I was done waiting. Ignoring the noise, I turned and walked away. After work, Coop invited the team out for dinner. Noticing I wasn’t there, he asked, “Where’s Beth?” My assistant gave a vague answer. “She left right after her shift. Heard she had a blind date to catch?” Hearing that I went on a blind date, Coop’s tense shoulders visibly relaxed. He knew the guy’s reputation in their circle. He was certain I wouldn’t waste time with someone like that. At ten that night, right after I got home, the department group chat blew up with several videos. Coop stood holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand and a diamond ring in his right, framed by a massive backdrop of champagne roses and a heart formed by glowing candles surrounding Sienna. The camera angles were perfect, capturing every bit of emotion on their faces. Coop knelt on one knee, eyes overflowing with passion. “Sienna, the day you left, you told me to wait for you. I waited five full years. Now that you’re back, I finally have the chance to tell you how I feel.” Sienna nodded through tears. Passersby marveled at the lavish setup, and congratulations flooded the chat. I stared fixedly at the video, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. Because the entire setup, the roses, the candles, the diamond ring, the kneeling, was identical to the proposal ceremony Coop had promised me a month ago. A month ago, he had asked me what kind of proposal I wanted. Thinking he was finally going to go public, I enthusiastically described my dream setup: classic roses, candles, a diamond ring, and him kneeling before me. Coop had noted down every single detail. I thought he was preparing to reveal our relationship, so I spent an extra hour every morning doing my makeup, waiting for the day. Turns out he only asked so he could use my dream on Sienna. Tears spilled uncontrollably onto my phone screen. In that precise moment, I cut myself completely free from this hidden, humiliating nightmare. The next day, I started organizing my work handovers, passing experimental data to my assistant. Since the new lab in Seattle was short-staffed, my transfer approval came through almost immediately. Sienna walked up to my desk out of nowhere. “Beth, right? Why didn’t you come to Coop’s dinner party yesterday?” I replied with professional detachment. “I had personal business.” She let out a sudden, mocking laugh. “Personal business? Or did you stay away because you knew Coop was proposing to me?” I frowned, catching the blatant hostility in her eyes. She curled her red lips into a venomous smile. “After all, while I was away, you were basically Coop’s little side piece, weren’t you?” The moment the words left her mouth, nearby colleagues turned to look, their eyes filled with curiosity, confusion, and disgust. “I wasn’t,” I denied instinctively. Sienna pulled out her phone and played a voice recording from one of Coop’s friends: “Beth? Yeah, she’s been taking care of Coop’s physical needs for the last five years. Knowing Sienna went abroad, she practically crawled into his bed that very night. Everyone in our circle knows Coop and Sienna are childhood sweethearts. Only Beth was thick-skinned enough to force herself into his life.” The recording stopped. The cruel words sliced through my nerves like blades. Sienna smirked at me. “Still want to deny it, Beth?” The looks from my colleagues shifted to pure contempt and disgust. Whispers broke out. “Unbelievable. Professional researcher by day, side piece by night.” “Who knows how many times she’s done this? Maybe she slept her way through her Ph.D. too.” “No wonder Director Coop always kept his distance from her. He probably found her disgusting.” I clenched my hands tightly, striving to stay composed. “I was never a side piece. We were…” A few colleagues who had always disliked me rolled their eyes. “Were what? The recording spelled it out clearly! The moment Sienna left, you crawled into his bed. Are you really trying to pretend you’re innocent?” “Someone like her belongs in a lab? Don’t even bother transferring her, just fire her!” I dug my nails into my palms, trying to defend myself. “Coop and I were in a legitimate relationship!” Before the words fully faded, Coop walked over in a hurry, anxiety clearly written across his face. I pinned my last shred of hope on him. “Coop, you came at the right time. Tell them, haven’t we been together for five years?” He walked right past me, stepping straight to Sienna’s side. “Are you okay, Sienna?” Seeing this, the mocking laughter around us grew even louder. “Beth, this is the relationship you’re talking about?” “Legitimate? Or delusional? It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” A colleague pointed back and forth between Sienna and me, her tone laced with mockery. “Did Director Coop even spare you a single glance?” Refusing to accept it, I kept my eyes locked on Coop. He looked uncomfortable. After a brief pause, he finally opened his mouth. “What could there possibly be between us?” “Sienna and I grew up together. How could I ever be with you?” The surrounding sneers crashed over me like a wave. “Hear that, Beth? The relationship you imagined was just your own one-sided obsession after sneaking into his bed. The Director didn’t even know what you were talking about.” I bit my lip to hold back tears, a metallic taste of blood spreading in my mouth. Meeting my gaze, Coop looked as if he had been burned, quickly averting his eyes. In a cold voice, he revoked my transfer request on the spot. “Beth, suspend your work and go home for now.” I curled my lips into a bitter, sarcastic smile. “Coop, we are never seeing each other again.” The snickering from colleagues continued: “Listen to her, ‘never seeing each other again’!” “Director Coop was cursed to have someone like her spreading filthy rumors about him.” I didn’t reply. I silently packed my belongings and walked out. After I left, Coop pulled Sienna back into his office, his voice unusually cold. “Sienna, you said you wanted the proposal announcement so you could fit in with the team as my girlfriend. Why did you go out of your way to harass Beth?” Sienna pouted. “Coop, I was just trying to test her for you! If she really cared, wouldn’t she come back and fight for you?” Hearing her excuse, Coop sighed and dropped the subject. A week passed. Then two weeks. He received no calls, no messages from me. Unable to hold back any longer, Coop finally dialed my number. When the call connected, all he heard was a chaotic, noisy background. Through the loud crackle of firecrackers and festive music, a voice boomed clearly: “Beth, sweetie, how could you leave your phone behind when stepping into the bridal car?”

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1 After another cold war, I opened Channel’s chat box, intending to swallow my pride and make peace as usual. Then I saw her story post from thirty minutes ago, coaxing Landon, her junior at work. The caption read: Even my boyfriend isn’t this hard to smooth over… Landon had left a comment: [Liar. Didn’t you say you’ve never coaxed a boyfriend in your life?] Staring at his comment, it hit me that Channel really had never once tried to make things right with me. Every single time, she just waited for me to come crawling back. A mutual friend sent me a video clip. In the clip, someone asked Channel if she wasn’t afraid I’d actually walk away this time. Channel raised her eyebrows, her face full of disdain: “Please. Gabriel is such a pathetic fool. If I ignore him for more than two days, he panics worse than anyone.” “Last time we fought, he sent me a whole novel of an apology. My eyes practically crossed reading it. Half a month ago, he even bought rings, talking about how he wanted to marry me.” She let out a dry laugh. “If I don’t coax Landon, he’ll stay mad at me for a full two weeks. Gabriel is different. He’s so attached you couldn’t kick him out if you tried.” I watched the clip and let out a faint, bitter laugh. Fair enough. In that case, this clingy fool wasn’t going to coax her anymore. … At the end of the video, Channel smiled playfully. “If you don’t believe me, let’s make a bet. Gabriel will text me to make up by tonight at the latest.” Her tone was brimming with confidence. “When it comes to Gabriel, I never lose.” The video cut off there. I closed the video and returned to my chat with Channel. My eyes landed on the last two messages we exchanged. It was me asking her what was really going on between her and Landon. That was where our silent treatment had started. Channel hadn’t replied. She was always like that, ignoring any message she didn’t feel like answering. I knew her. I was used to it. Still, hearing her reduce me to a pathetic joke in front of her friends brought a dull, hollow ache to my chest. What I thought was taking the high road to fix us was, in her eyes, just the desperate flailing of someone who couldn’t leave. She had never coaxed me, yet she went out of her way for Landon. My phone buzzed. A voice note from Landon popped up. “Hey Gabe, did you forget something?” “Channel is still waiting for your long apology essay!” Before his voice faded, a round of snickers echoed in the background. Two more notifications flashed before I could respond. “Channel made a bet that you’d come crawling back tonight. You better hurry up and write it, or you’re gonna lose the clock for her~” “We’re all waiting for Channel to share it in the group chat again!” Landon broke into a smug laugh. Only then did I realize that all those heartfelt long messages I used to write to Channel were routinely forwarded into her group chat for her friends and Landon to mock. I replayed the voice note once more. In the background, I could hear Channel’s soft, amused chuckle. I didn’t even have the energy to type a reply. That night, Landon brought a drunk Channel back to our place. I happened to be downstairs grabbing a glass of water. Seeing me walk into the kitchen, Landon offered an innocent smile. “Hey Gabe, Channel and the group had a bit too much to drink, so I brought her home. Don’t overthink it, okay?” As if remembering something, he added with a smirk: “She only posted that story to make me feel better. Don’t take it to heart.” “She lost the bet tonight because she got drunk. She actually lost.” “Gabe, didn’t you get my message?” I ignored him, poured myself a glass of water, drank most of it, and then looked up. “I got it. So?” My tone was flat, laced with undeniable sarcasm. “What do you want me to reply?” Landon paused, his voice dropping slightly. “Gabe, I was just saying. I hope you don’t mind me bringing her home.” It wasn’t the first time he had brought her home. Nor was it the first time Channel gave me the cold shoulder because of him. “I don’t mind,” I said. My gaze drifted past him to Channel, who was slumped on the sofa, then back to his stunned face. “If it’s convenient, why don’t you carry her to the bedroom?” Channel lifted her head from the couch, frowning at me as if she couldn’t comprehend what I had just said. After all, every other time she came home drunk, I was the one who took care of her. Channel told Landon to leave. He agreed quickly. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone. See you tomorrow, Channel.” Once he was gone, Channel looked at me, her tone taking my presence for granted. “Why didn’t you text me?” I looked at her calmly. “Why should I?” Channel froze, struck silent for a moment. Why should I? Because she was used to me playing the devoted fool, always offering her an easy way out during our cold wars. She was used to it. Now that I wasn’t falling into place, she felt off-balance. She looked at me, her tone softening slightly, a rare concession. “It was just a joke. Don’t take it so seriously.” Just a joke? Posting about Landon, betting with her friends, letting him mock me, sharing my private texts in her group chat… to her, all of that was just a joke? “Which joke are you referring to?” I asked. Channel frowned, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. Usually, if she gave me an inch, I would let out a breath of relief and sweep the original argument under the rug. When I didn’t react, I pressed on. “The story post? The bet? The group chat leaks? Or the part where you called me a pathetic fool who can’t be kicked out?” “Which one did you mean?” Her face darkened when I laid it all out so blatantly. Still, she forced down her impatience. “It was just trash talk at a party. Don’t make a huge drama out of it.” Right. Trash talk. To her, everything about us was just casual entertainment for her friends. If I cared, I was being unreasonable. “What about Landon then?” My voice remained level. “He kissed you. Was that a joke too?” I had seen it in her group chat before she deleted it. She had leaned against the couch, completely still, letting Landon kiss her. Realizing it was the wrong group, she had quickly revoked the image. Channel’s expression shifted. “We lost a party game. It was just a penalty.” Her tone softened into a defensive comfort. “Don’t overthink it. You know what Landon and I are like.” “He’s just real affectionate and casual. He didn’t mean anything by it.” “The photo was just taken for fun. I didn’t show you because I knew you’d overreact.” “Besides, he’s close to me. I couldn’t exactly make him kiss a stranger, could I?” She sounded so convincing, she almost believed her own excuse. “Why couldn’t you?” I asked. “Why did it have to be you?” “Is it because you knew that even if I found out, it wouldn’t matter?” Channel went dead silent. I had laid her exact thoughts bare. Perhaps sensing she had pushed it too far this time, Channel stepped closer. The scent of alcohol mixed with men’s cologne hit my nose, churning a wave of nausea in my stomach. Her voice was soft, offering a rare word of coaxing: “Babe, stop making a scene. That’s enough for tonight.” “I have to meet Landon tomorrow. We can talk about this another time.” Landon. She said his name so naturally, so affectionately. Except there wasn’t going to be another time. Before going to sleep, my phone screen lit up. It was a text from Landon. [Hey Gabe, my bad. I accidentally bit Channel’s lip during the game tonight. Make sure she puts some ointment on it~] I stared at the screen for a long time. Channel opened the bedroom door and walked in. Seeing me staring at my phone, she asked, “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I didn’t say a word. I just turned the screen toward her. When she read the text, her expression flickered. After a moment of silence, she looked away. “Accidentally got bitten during the game.” As she spoke, she unconsciously bit her lower lip. The small cut wasn’t glaringly obvious, but under the bedroom light, I could see it clearly. How careless did someone have to be to bite a lip open during a simple game? I didn’t ask. I locked the phone. “Right. Just be more careful next time.” Hearing my calm reply, Channel glanced at me, her tone carrying a trace of lingering irritation. “Look, I told you it was an accident.” I gave a quiet “mm” and lay down, turning my back to her. When I woke up the next morning, Channel was already gone. She had left a sticky note on the nightstand. [Landon needs me. Won’t be back for dinner tonight. Don’t wait up.] I crumpled the note without expression and tossed it into the trash can. Opening my phone, I saw her group chat was already at 99+ notifications. They seemed to have completely forgotten I was still in the chat. Everyone was teasing Channel and Landon. I scrolled up with numb fingers and found a photo Landon had posted in the group. A selfie of him and Channel at an amusement park. [Channel is the absolute best. She brought me out to play right away!] So this was what she meant by “Landon needs me.” Whenever I asked her to go out, she always said she was too busy. I wanted to take a trip to relax, she said she had no time. I wanted to see a movie or get dinner, she said her schedule was packed, maybe next time. Her “next time” never came for me. But she had all the time in the world for Landon. The chat was flooded with comments: [Channel is so bold. Aren’t you scared your guy will find out?] [What’s there to be scared of? Even if he finds out, he’ll just sulk for two days and come crawling back to her like he always does. When has it ever been different?] [True. Gabriel has insane tolerance.] Message after message popped up. Channel posted a series of photos she took of Landon, followed by a voice message. “Nothing to be scared of. Landon and I aren’t doing anything shameful.” Then Landon chimed in with a laugh: [I told Gabe last night that Channel’s lip got bitten, and he didn’t even get mad.] I exited the chat and left the group. I looked down at the engagement ring on my finger. I had bought a matching pair, one for me, one for her. She rarely wore hers, claiming it was inconvenient for work, so it usually sat in her jewelry drawer. Now, there was no point in wearing mine either. I slipped it off and threw it into the drawer. Channel seemed to have finally noticed I left the group. She sent me a text: [You left the chat?] Just four words. No explanation, no apology. I didn’t reply. An hour later, her call came through. “Landon’s been under a lot of stress lately. He didn’t want you overthinking things, so he didn’t say we were going to the park.” I stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. “The group wasn’t paying attention to you being in there. They were just talking trash. Don’t be mad.” I gave a faint “mm”. “I’m not mad.” Hearing my answer, Channel let out a relieved sigh. “Good. I’ll swing by the apartment and pick you up for dinner.” Now that I knew, she didn’t feel the need to hide it anymore. She returned quickly. Landon was sitting in the passenger seat. As I stepped outside, Landon rolled down his window and offered an innocent smile. “Hey Gabe, I get severe motion sickness, so do you mind taking the back seat?” My eyes bypassed him and landed on Channel. She nodded. “Landon gets motion sickness easily. Just sit in the back. It’s all the same.” Channel forgot. I suffered from motion sickness too. I didn’t move. Channel’s brows furrowed. “Don’t start throwing a tantrum now. A seat is a seat.” Right. A seat is a seat. Except I wasn’t backing down anymore. I looked into Channel’s eyes, feeling an overwhelming fatigue. “I’m not going. You two go ahead.” “Gabriel, that’s enough,” Channel said, impatience leaking into her tone. “He gets sick in cars. If you’re going to be jealous, at least pick your moments.” Landon suddenly chimed in, “Channel, forget it. You and Gabe go. I don’t want to get between you guys.” Channel snapped without hesitation, “How can I forget it? You’ve been dying to eat at that restaurant for weeks. It took forever to get a reservation.” So the restaurant was his idea all along. Landon gave me an awkward look. “Then what about Gabe?” Channel glanced at me, restarting the engine. “If he doesn’t want to go, leave him be.” “Suit yourself.” The window rolled up slowly. Landon gave me a polite wave. “Gabe, I’ll go have dinner with Channel then!” I stood there until her car disappeared around the corner. I told myself: Forget it, Gabriel. Channel only treated me like this over and over because she knew I loved her unconditionally. Bit by bit, that love had been completely drained. The last tiny flicker of hope evaporated right there on the sidewalk. I went upstairs, grabbed the luggage I had already packed days ago, and walked toward the door. We had lived in this place for five years. Before this, we spent two years in a cramped, drafty rental. In the summer, we only had a tiny weak fan; in the winter, cold wind seeped through the window cracks, so we sealed them with duct tape. Back then, Channel always promised she’d work hard to give me a good life. She said once she made money, we’d get married. She did make money. She built her business, bought a spacious condo. Except we never got married. Even the proposal was something I had to initiate. She had forgotten everything she once said. There was no longer any room for me by her side. At the front door, I stopped. I turned around, letting my eyes sweep across the home one last time. Then I turned, pulled my suitcase, and walked away. She would never have to read those long, eye-straining essays ever again.

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1 I was booking a table for our seventh anniversary when glowing text appeared: [Would you like to join a Loyalty Game? We’ll awaken a System for your wife. If she tells you, you win one million dollars.] Married seven years, I had no doubt. That million was mine. Curious, I thought: [What if I lose?] [Then we grant you a mysterious grand prize to reboot your life. Cost: you’ll be broadcast to another dimension.] I didn’t care about the prize. I was already picturing the luxury apartment I’d buy my wife. I hit accept and rushed home. Walking through the door, Kathy looked panicked. She brushed me off and sprinted into the study. Through the oak door, I heard her on the phone with her childhood best friend Noah. “Noah, I just awakened a Doomsday System. The apocalypse is coming! I’m building a safe house. I promise I’ll keep you safe. I am absolutely not telling Henry. The person I want to survive with is you.” I froze. Her Doomsday System was fake. But the countdown for my mysterious grand prize had definitely just started. … Right at that moment, the glowing chat feed popped up in front of my eyes again. [Look at Henry standing there all shocked. His wife and Noah have been hooking up for years. They’ve worn out the mattress by now.] [Bro was literally booking an anniversary dinner, not knowing his wife and Noah are celebrating their four year cheating anniversary tomorrow.] [I just hope this guy wakes up and gets a divorce. The last few guys who lost the game walked away with at least five million in cash. The prizes keep getting better. I can’t even imagine what his grand prize is going to be.] The chat was going wild, guessing if I was about to become insanely rich overnight. I couldn’t focus on any of that. My knuckles turned bone-white as I gripped my phone. My chest tightened so hard I could barely pull air into my lungs. Ever since our third anniversary, when I got stuck at work and missed midnight, Kathy had thrown a fit every single year. She flat out refused to celebrate with me anymore. I thought I had deeply hurt her, so I worked myself to the bone, grinding for bonuses just to make it up to her. Only today did the ugly truth finally hit me. Every time she stormed out on our anniversary, she was just making an excuse to go celebrate with him. I gritted my teeth, tasting copper in my mouth. Inside the study, Kathy was already plotting her post-apocalyptic life with Noah. “We can just buy one of those abandoned warehouses out by the rust belt. It won’t cost much, but retrofitting it and stocking up on supplies will be expensive. How much cash do you have on hand?” “I’m broke.” Kathy sounded frantic. “What do you mean? I just transferred thirty thousand to you last month!” “I bought a new truck and went on a road trip. That thirty grand is long gone.” Their words felt like a serrated blade twisting directly into my heart. After we got married, Kathy insisted we needed to save for a bigger house. She took control of our finances. I was making twelve thousand a month, but she only let me keep two hundred bucks for pocket money. Everything else went straight to her. Seven years. I had been scraping by, denying myself everything for seven damn years, only to find out my hard earned money was funding Noah’s luxury lifestyle. Just last month, my mom was rushed to the ER for acute appendicitis. The surgery cost over thirty thousand dollars. I begged Kathy for the money. She looked me dead in the eye and said it was locked in a fixed term mutual fund. She told me to figure it out myself. It was a sweltering heatwave that day. I was so stressed about the medical bills that I walked all the way home from the office to save on gas. When I passed the convenience store by our neighborhood, I was sweating through my shirt. The cheap slushies in the freezer were exactly one dollar. I stood in front of that glass door for a full minute before walking away. I told myself that every dollar saved was a dollar closer to paying for my mom’s surgery. I was starving myself to save my mother’s life. And she was using my blood, sweat, and tears to bankroll her lover for four years. The suffocating agony of betrayal instantly hardened into pure, unadulterated hatred. Noah was already brainstorming new ways for Kathy to get cash. “Just max out a bunch of payday loans. The world is ending anyway. Once society collapses, who cares about a credit score? Any money we can borrow right now is basically free cash.” “We’ll each take out five hundred grand first. Then make your husband borrow a couple million.” A dark, bitter laugh escaped my lips. Even now, they were still trying to bleed me dry. Kathy went silent for a few seconds. “Henry might not agree to that.” “Plus, we’re legally married. He’s going to find out about the massive debt. What do we do then?” A long pause stretched through the door before Noah finally spoke. “There’s only one way. We scorch the earth.” Before Kathy could ask what he meant, Noah hung up. Kathy stayed locked in the study. Fifteen minutes later, the front doorbell rang. It was Noah. He stood on my porch, looking down his nose at me with a sickening smirk. “Henry. We need to talk.” Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed past me into the living room. He stood right in the center, looking around the place like he was inspecting his future property. Hearing the commotion, Kathy rushed out of the study. She looked at him in total panic. “What are you doing here so late?” She kept shooting him desperate looks, but Noah ignored her completely. He turned to me. “Henry, I’ll give it to you straight. Kathy and I have been together for four years.” “Noah, are you insane?” Kathy screamed at him, then frantically grabbed my arm. “Honey, please don’t listen to his bullshit.” “I’m not bullshitting!” Noah roared back. “Kathy, look at the time! We don’t need to hide this anymore.” “Henry, the only reason Kathy even married you was because I was going abroad for college, and her mom was stuck in the hospital. You were the pathetic idiot running around fetching things for them.” “Her mom thought you were safe. That’s why she pushed Kathy to marry you.” “If it wasn’t for keeping her sick mother happy, she never would have looked twice at you. You were just Option B while I was gone. Do you get it now?” Seven years ago, Kathy’s mom had a severe tumor that required major surgery. I worked all day and spent every night sleeping on a plastic chair in her hospital room for twelve days straight. The day her mom was discharged, she held my hands with tears in her eyes. “Henry, you are a good man. I feel completely safe leaving my daughter in your hands.” Kathy had stood next to us, her head bowed in silence. I thought she was just shy. Turns out, she was disgusted by the idea of marrying me. A hollow smile crept onto my face. I thought I couldn’t feel any more pain after hearing they had been sleeping together. But hearing that I was never loved to begin with, that my entire marriage was a setup, felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water directly over my soul. I looked at Kathy one last time. “Is he telling the truth?” Her lips trembled. Her eyes darted frantically between me and Noah, weighing her options for the end of the world. “Then let’s get a divorce.” My face was completely completely blank, but my mind was doing the math. She was going to start applying for payday loans tomorrow. Three or four platforms at once, probably pulling in a few hundred thousand dollars minimum. If I filed the papers before she signed those loans, that mountain of debt wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with me. “No!” Tears spilled down Kathy’s cheeks. I was stunned. Noah looked equally shocked. Kathy sobbed, clutching her chest. “I won’t divorce you!” “Henry, I know how good you’ve been to me all these years. You warm my milk every night. You rub my shoulders. You always have dinner waiting no matter how late I get home. I just cannot lose you.” “How about this. You keep the title of my husband, but my heart belongs to him.” “We can keep living exactly like we used to. I’ll just go out and see him sometimes.” “Shut up.” I cut her off. Bile was rising in my throat. Swallowing down the absolute disgust, I turned to glare at Noah. “She clearly has no shame, but surely you have some?” “She is still my legal wife. Who the hell are you to come into my house?” “A neighbor? A buddy? The side piece?” “You act so tough, but you can’t even get her to commit to you publicly. You really think she loves you?” Noah’s face contorted into something ugly. He whipped around to glare at Kathy. “What the hell does this mean?” “Did you forget what happens in a month? If you don’t divorce him, he’ll freeze your assets and you won’t be able to pull out the cash! What are you going to do then?” Seeing Kathy still hesitating, I seized the opening. “What happens in a month? Why do you need so much cash?” Kathy turned pale as a ghost and shot Noah a lethal glare. She turned to me, words tumbling out in a rush. “It has nothing to do with you!” “Kathy, we are legally married. How does massive financial movement have nothing to do with me?” “Fine! We’ll divorce!” The exact second the words left her mouth, a line of text floated across my vision. [Hidden Reward Triggered: Successfully divorce within thirty-five days to double the prize pool.] The prize pool doubled, but I couldn’t find it in myself to smile. Even now, she was lying to my face to protect her fake Doomsday System. I walked straight into the study and grabbed a pen and paper. “If we’re doing this, we do it right now. We write down exactly how the assets are split in black and white.” “You’ve been hoarding both our paychecks for years. There has to be at least half a million in there. I won’t even ask you to leave with nothing. Just give me my half.” Kathy panicked and looked at Noah for help. Noah pulled her aside and hissed in a harsh whisper. “Don’t fight him on this. I’ll take out a million dollar loan right now. Give him three hundred grand so he shuts up and gets out of our way. We have bigger things to prepare for.” “Besides, a month from now, even if we owe ten million dollars, the banks won’t exist to collect it.” Reassured by Noah’s delusional logic, Kathy signed the makeshift agreement without another word. The very next morning, Noah wired three hundred thousand dollars into my account. When he showed me the transfer screen, he purposely let me see his balance. It wasn’t one million. It was two million. He smirked and told me he had cash to burn, as long as I got lost. I just smiled back. I sincerely hoped he would keep that same energy in a month when the debt collectors came knocking. After finalizing the paperwork, I took a few days off work. It was the most peaceful stretch of time I had experienced in seven years. I didn’t have to wait on Kathy hand and foot. I slept until noon. I ate whatever I wanted. And I had a live feed of their impending disaster via the dimensional chat. They bought an abandoned industrial warehouse on the outskirts of the city and blew a fortune turning it into a fortress. Then came the panic buying. Pallets of rice, oil, and flour. Mountains of medical supplies. They even spent eighty thousand dollars on military surplus MREs, which the chat gleefully informed me were three years expired. Their initial two million dried up fast. Working together, they took out another two million in high interest loans. Four million dollars of toxic debt hanging over their heads, and they were completely oblivious, working day and night with bright smiles on their faces. I was genuinely counting down the days to see their faces when the sky didn’t fall. I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with them until then. Then my phone rang. It was my mother. “Henry, there are men at the door! They’re saying our house has been put up for collateral and they want me out. What is going on?” My vision went white. The chat scrolled rapidly, putting the pieces together for me. Kathy and Noah had run out of cash. The lenders wouldn’t give them another dime, so Kathy secretly forged documents to mortgage my mother’s house! My entire body shook with rage. “Mom, do not open that door. I am on my way!” When I pulled up, four massive guys in leather jackets were blocking the porch. One of them was raising a crowbar to the lock. “Back off!” I roared, sprinting across the lawn. “This is my property. What the hell are you doing?” The lead guy, a bald brute with a neck tattoo, looked me up and down. He shoved a crumpled contract against my chest. “Who the hell are you?” “Open your eyes and read. Kathy put this house up as collateral for a three hundred thousand dollar bridge loan. We’re here to do the pre-loan inspection.” I looked down at the signature. It was Kathy’s handwriting. “You mortgaged my mother’s house?” I spun around, finding Kathy standing near a rented truck with Noah. She didn’t even flinch. “I just need the liquidity right now. The divorce isn’t totally finalized in the system yet. What’s the big deal if I use it for a bit?” “I’m going to pay it back before the due date anyway. It’s not like I’m actually kicking your mom out.” “You can’t touch this house even if we were still married!” I screamed. “Legally, this property belongs to my mother. You have zero claim to it. Using forged documents to get a loan is felony fraud!” Hearing the word fraud, the loan sharks immediately stepped back, their expressions hardening. Noah saw his money slipping away and lunged forward. “Shut your mouth, Henry! The paperwork is real!” He grabbed me by the collar and dropped his voice to a venomous whisper. “Listen to me, you pathetic loser. In one month, society is going to burn. Nobody is going to care about this dusty old house.” “But if you ruin my cash flow today, I swear to God I will beat you to death right here.” “Try it.” I stared dead into his eyes. Hearing the screaming outside, my mom got terrified that I was getting hurt. She unbolted the door. She reached out to pull me inside, but one of the thugs used the opening to shove his way in. The heavy wooden door slammed backward. It caught my mom right in the chest, sending her flying backward. The back of her head cracked sickeningly against the sharp edge of the doorframe. “Mom!” I shoved Noah back and dove to catch her. Blood was instantly pooling on the floorboards. The loan sharks realized things had escalated way out of control and bolted for their cars. Noah, terrified of getting arrested right before his precious apocalypse, grabbed Kathy and fled the scene. I pressed my trembling hands against the gash on my mother’s head and dialed 911. The ambulance arrived in minutes. After a frantic hour in the ER, the doctor confirmed the bleeding was stopped and there was no severe brain damage. But when she woke up, my mother just cried, gripping my shirt, begging me not to let Kathy take her home. I held her fragile hands tightly. “Mom, I promise you. Nobody is taking your house. And the people who did this to you are going to pay. Every single one of them.” While she slept, I got on the phone with the most ruthless litigation lawyer in the city. The forged contract was a slam dunk. Getting the deed cleared was just a matter of time. I was planning to let them enjoy their delusion for a few more days before dropping the hammer. But the very people who put my mother in the hospital decided to come for me first. The day before my mom was scheduled for discharge, I walked out of the hospital lobby. A beaten up cargo van suddenly slid to a halt next to me. The side door flew open. Before I could even register the threat, something heavy and metal slammed into the back of my skull. Everything went black. When I finally opened my eyes, the smell of diesel and stale air hit me first. I was tied tightly to a metal chair. I recognized the space immediately. It was the warehouse Kathy and Noah had bought for the end of the world. Noah was standing in front of me, decked out in full tactical gear like he was cosplaying a warlord from a bad movie. Behind him stood Kathy and about eight massive, mean looking guys who looked like hired muscle. I yanked at the zip ties, screaming at him. “Are you out of your mind, Noah? This is kidnapping! You’re going to rot in a cell!” Noah just threw his head back and laughed. He glanced back at Kathy. Kathy looked at me with cold, dead eyes. “Half an hour left.” “Half an hour until what?” I spat blood onto the concrete. Noah took a slow, theatrical step toward me. “Henry, did you notice the weather today? Pretty strange, right?” “It’s a localized storm front, you idiot! The clouds will clear in an hour.” “Wrong!” Noah screamed, his face twisting with manic joy. “It’s not a storm. It’s the apocalypse. The world ends in exactly thirty minutes.” “Kathy and I got the intel a month ago. Since you used to be her husband, and you practically funded our lives for years, I’m feeling generous. I’ll let you stay in our safe house.” “But only if you get on your knees right now and slam your forehead into the concrete one hundred times.” “You need psychiatric help! What apocalypse? You’ve completely lost your mind!” Before I could finish, Noah’s tactical glove cracked across my jaw. I thrashed against the chair, trying to kick him, but two of the hired goons slammed me down against the floor. Noah knelt over me, digging his fingers brutally into my jaw. “Say one more word, and I’ll shatter every bone in your face!” “Do it!” I snarled through the pain. “I have a dead man’s switch on my phone app. The cops already have my location. If you touch me again, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in federal prison!” The goons holding my arms flinched, their grips loosening slightly. Noah just scoffed. “Call the cops! Call the military! The world is ending! The cops are going to be too busy eating each other to care about you!” “What are you idiots standing around for?” he yelled at his muscle. “Did he actually scare you?” “The rules are gone! Even if you kill him right now, no judge will ever see you! But if you go easy on him, I’ll lock you all outside when the fallout hits!” That was all it took. The hired muscle swarmed me. Heavy steel toed boots rained down on my ribs, my back, my legs. I curled into a tight ball, trying to protect my head, but there were too many of them. Just as the agonizing pain pushed me right to the edge of blacking out, Kathy let out a piercing shriek. “The timer! Ten seconds! The apocalypse is here!” Instantly, the warehouse went dead silent. The boots stopped. Everyone stared at Kathy, holding their breath. Three. Two. One! Outside the high frosted windows, nothing happened. A ray of golden sunlight actually broke through the clouds. But a second later, a massive, deafening crash echoed through the building. “It’s here! The end of the world is here!” Noah screamed in sheer ecstasy. Then came the voice. “FREEZE! POLICE! GET ON THE GROUND!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618646”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Finn forced my phone down on a busy sidewalk, face carved from ice. “Amy, delete the post. Stop being so desperate for attention.” Tears stinging, I deleted our anniversary photo in front of the weekend crowd. Only then did his tension thaw. He sighed and pulled me close. “Be a good girl. We don’t need to post online to prove anything.” For three years, his shadow vanished from my social media. Friends asked if I was even dating. I smiled and said he liked privacy. Even our digital wedding invitations next month used only a sunset photo. Until last night, when the algorithm pushed a pet influencer’s video. Finn held a girl by the waist, eyes crinkling with a genuine smile. Over ten thousand comments raved about how sweet Ollie and his wifey were. I scrolled through every video. The first post dated back eight months into our relationship. The pinned comment: the girl complaining, “He insists on filming every single day. So annoying lol.” He didn’t hate being recorded. He just hated being recorded with me. Face numb, I opened my chat with the wedding planner. “The wedding is off.” … After I sent that message, I sat at the desk in my home office, my hands and feet freezing cold. The glowing screen illuminated a meticulously documented timeline. One thousand and ninety-five days of updates. He was in every single one of them. Sometimes it was just his side profile. Sometimes a shot of his back. Sometimes he was holding a fluffy Ragdoll cat named Casper, flashing a gentle, melting smile at the camera. I locked my phone. The living room lights were still on. It was a habit I had kept for five years, always leaving a light on for his late nights. I heard the key turn in the front door. Finn walked in, shrugging off his jacket. He walked straight up to me, his brow furrowed in that familiar expression of mild annoyance. “Is the intro video for the reception not done yet?” He did not offer a single word about why he was home past midnight. He did not notice the total lack of emotion in my eyes. I looked at him calmly. “Yeah. Almost done.” He did not catch the coldness in my voice. He just kept talking. “I need it by tomorrow. Don’t forget.” He casually tossed his heavy camera bag onto the sofa. A small, black camera remote rolled out of the side pocket and dropped onto the rug. My heart felt like it hit the floor with it. It was the exact same remote. In countless videos, that girl named Sophie would hold it up, laughing as she yelled at the man off screen, “Ollie, we are rolling!” He was never passively caught on film. He was the one personally hitting the shutter. Finn bent down to pick up the remote. Catching my stare, he quickly shoved it back into the bag. “Why are you looking at that?” I swallowed the sharp lump in my throat. “Finn, what is that pet account all about?” Irritation instantly flooded his face. “I already told you, it is just work. It is a collaborative project for a pet brand.” “Does a work project require you to be on camera every day? For three years?” “What crazy narrative are you spinning in your head now?” He raised his voice, his patience totally gone. “Amy, can you act like an adult for once? Stop dragging my professional life into your emotional insecurities.” “I just wanted to…” “You don’t need to know,” he cut me off sharply. “Just do what you are supposed to do. Finish cutting the wedding video.” It was always like this. He always threw around words like mature, work, and desperate to completely invalidate my feelings. In the past, I would have immediately apologized and reflected on my behavior. But tonight, I just gave him a slow nod. “Okay.” He looked incredibly satisfied with my obedience and turned to walk into the bathroom. Listening to the sound of the shower running, I opened my messages. The curator had just sent a final confirmation. “Amy, regarding the two year film restoration residency at the Portland Vintage Film Archive, are you absolutely sure you want to take it? You previously turned it down because of your upcoming wedding.” To protect the home Finn always talked about, I had given up my absolute dream job. Tonight, I was taking it back. “I am sure. Thank you for keeping the spot open for me.” The next morning, Finn realized his camera batteries were not charged. His daily shooting scripts were not neatly laid out on the kitchen island like usual. He started rummaging through the living room, clearly annoyed. “Amy, where is my backup battery?” I was on the floor, carefully packing my delicate film restoration tools in bubble wrap. I did not even look up. “I don’t know. Find it yourself.” He froze, staring at me in complete disbelief. I ignored him. I opened my banking app and began transferring the returned vendor deposits to cover the cancellation penalties. He had always used work as an excuse to avoid the wedding planning. All the vendors only had my contact information. That made it incredibly convenient for me to sever everything cleanly. The venue, the officiant, the catering, the luxury car rentals. I chopped away every single connection with my own hands. Finally, I logged into the studio security portal and requested to revoke my own access badge. “Confirm termination of access?” I clicked yes. My phone buzzed with an incoming email from Portland. “Welcome aboard, Amy. Your residency check-in date is in seven days.” I opened the digital seating chart for the reception. I clicked on the bride’s designated chair and hit delete. The wedding was still perfectly intact inside Finn’s head. But his bride had already quietly left the stage. The next day, I drove over to the animal rescue base. Officially, I was there to return some lighting equipment the wedding studio had borrowed. All the volunteers at the base knew Finn. And they all knew the wifey from his videos. The second I set the heavy equipment cases down, a young college girl practically skipped over to me. “Oh, you must be Ollie’s friend! Is he coming by today?” I shook my head. “I am just here to drop this off.” “Aw, okay,” she said, looking a bit deflated before her smile returned. “That is fine, the missus is here anyway. Those two always show up together.” Another volunteer tossing treats to a tabby cat chimed in. “Seriously, Ollie and his lady are literally relationship goals. They are so cute together.” The missus. His lady. The words echoed in my head like television static. I turned around and finally saw her in person. Sophie. She was surrounded by a few volunteers, laughing brightly. “Oh stop teasing me, guys! We are strictly work partners.” She said the words, but there was not a single trace of awkwardness or denial on her face. Right on cue, Finn walked through the double doors. He was carrying a massive box of premium canned cat food. He walked straight past everyone and naturally took a spot right next to Sophie. The volunteers immediately started cheering. “Look who it is! Ollie taking his girl on another charity date!” Finn just chuckled. He did not clarify a thing. Not a single word. His eyes swept across the room and landed on me. He froze for a fraction of a second. The charity sponsor representative happened to walk by and looked at me curiously. “Hey Ollie, who is this?” For exactly one second, my pathetic heart held onto a sliver of hope. I foolishly hoped he would say, this is my fiancée. Instead, Finn kept his voice perfectly flat and casual. “Just a friend. She is handling the videography for our wedding.” A friend. Weeks before our supposed wedding, standing in a room full of people who assumed he was dating Sophie, he effortlessly reduced me to a random vendor. I vividly remembered an award ceremony three years ago. He had won a massive industry prize. The press was swarming him at the afterparty. I had instinctively taken a step forward to stand by his side. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a dark hallway. “There are too many people and too many cameras. Go wait in the car.” Back then, I thought he was just protecting me from the stress of public life. Now I understood. His obsession with hiding me was a strictly enforced rule. A rule that only applied to me. Across the room, they were prepping the set for a live broadcast. Sophie’s lapel microphone was sitting slightly crooked. Finn naturally stepped into her personal space, leaning down to carefully clip it to the perfect spot on her collar. His movements were incredibly fluid and intimate. He had clearly done this a thousand times. Sophie looked up at him with a pout. “That ring light almost blinded me earlier.” Finn immediately spun around to yell at the lighting tech. “Swap it out for a softbox! Her eyes are sensitive to harsh light.” Then he adjusted the main camera, telling Sophie to lean her head against his shoulder to test the framing. The utter devotion and tenderness in his eyes was the exact same look I had seen in a thousand different videos. The moment the stream went live, Sophie pulled a shiny piece of metal from her pocket and held it up to the lens. “Ta-da! Look at our new custom collar tags!” It was a silver tag shaped like a bone. Engraved on the metal were their initials. O & S. Finn laughed, took the tag from her fingers, and personally clipped it onto the thin silver chain around Sophie’s neck. The live chat exploded across the monitor. “OMG IS THIS THE HARD LAUNCH?!” “Locking this ship down! Throwing away the key!” I could not watch another second. I turned around and walked out the door. When I got back to our apartment, I booted up my laptop and logged into our shared cloud drive. Five years together. We had traveled the world. We had taken countless photos. I opened the master folder sorted by date. I scrolled back exactly three years, to the day their account was created. Folder after folder. Thousands of high resolution photos and video clips. It was all Sophie. Her laughing, her crying over a stray kitten, her sleeping peacefully against Finn’s shoulder on a train. He had meticulously organized and color-corrected every single piece of her existence. And me? I typed my own name into the archive search bar. Zero results. The only proof I even existed in this massive digital library was one corrupted file from three years ago. It was a blurry photo I took of his back as he walked away from me, right after he demanded I never point a lens at his face. I gave this man five years of my youth, and in his permanent memory, I was nothing but empty space. I shut the laptop and dragged a heavy plastic storage bin out of the closet. I had bought these bins planning to use them for moving into a bigger house after the wedding. Now, I was using them to pack up my corpse of a relationship. My film reels. My chemical kits. My grandmother’s brass camera. Every single item that belonged to me went into the plastic shell. I did not leave a note to explain what I was doing. I no longer needed a spot in his lens. I no longer needed his validation. When I clicked remove account on the shared cloud drive, the system gave me a warning pop-up. “You will permanently lose access to over 4,000 files.” I didn’t back anything up. I clicked confirm. The final family photoshoot was booked at Finn’s private studio. His mother, the woman who had always treated me with cold, polite distance, was practically glowing with warmth today. But that warmth was not meant for me. “Sophie, come here honey! Stand right next to Ollie.” His mother grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her directly into the center of the frame, pressing their shoulders together. Sophie looked a little embarrassed and glanced in my direction. “I don’t know, Mrs. Hayes… Amy is right there.” “Oh nonsense! You have been Ollie’s partner for years. You are practically family at this point. It is just a photo!” His mother waved her hand dismissively, then pointed at me. “Amy, you know cameras. Do us a favor and hold that heavy reflector board for the lighting guy.” With one sentence, I went from future daughter-in-law to unpaid intern. I stood in the shadows just outside the bright set lights, gripping the heavy metal frame of the reflector. Finn’s father, his mother, Finn, and Sophie. They stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing. The perfect, happy family. And I was the hired help standing outside the frame. My chest felt incredibly tight. A bitter, acidic ache crawled up my throat. His mother must have noticed the dead look in my eyes. She called out over the flash of the camera. “Amy, smile a little! Don’t ruin the happy mood with that face.” To her, my silent grief was just an inconvenience. I looked at Finn, desperately hoping he would defend me. Just once. Instead, his eyebrows pulled together. He looked right at me and mouthed three words. “Look at the big picture.” Always the same excuse. Using family duty and professional courtesy as weapons to force me back into my corner. The lighting tech adjusted a massive strobe, and a beam of harsh white light accidentally caught Sophie right in the face. She squeezed her eyes shut. Finn instantly broke his pose. “Turn that down! Swap it for a softer grid! I told you she hates bright lights!” He remembered she was sensitive to light. He remembered her tiniest, most insignificant quirks. But he completely forgot that my right wrist had permanent nerve damage, and I could not hold heavy objects for more than five minutes. The metal reflector felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. A sharp, familiar spike of agony shot up my forearm. I got that injury three years ago. Finn had almost dropped a rare, vintage Leica lens. I dove across concrete stairs to catch it, fracturing my wrist in the process. I still remembered the pure panic on his face back then. He sat outside the urgent care room all night. He spent a week modifying a heavy duty camera strap to take the weight off my arm. He used to insist on carrying all my gear cases. That same modified strap was currently wrapped around a microphone stand in Sophie’s broadcasting room. He said it looked cool on camera. The memories made my lungs burn. The stabbing pain in my wrist finally hit a breaking point. My fingers went numb, and the heavy metal reflector crashed onto the hardwood floor. The loud bang echoed through the studio. Everyone turned to stare at me. Finn practically stomped over. He didn’t even look at my trembling hand. He bent down to inspect the reflector frame. “What is your problem? Can we even finish this shoot?” I stared at his face, hot tears threatening to spill over my eyelashes. “My wrist hurts.” He finally noticed the angry red swelling around my joint. His scowl only deepened. “Why are you always so careless?” There was no sympathy. Just annoyance. “Is this going to delay the edit for the channel?” he demanded. In that exact second, whatever love I had left for this man flatlined. He gave his gentleness to another woman. His memory was entirely selective. I shook my head slowly and pushed myself up from the floor. “I’m done shooting.” I turned my back on him and walked straight toward the equipment staging area. I didn’t look back once. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the Portland project coordinator. “Hi Amy. Due to a massive storm front moving in, your scheduled train has been bumped up to tomorrow night. Please be ready.” Perfect timing. I stopped at the workbench and undid the velcro on the black wrist brace I had worn for three years. He had carefully strapped it onto my arm all those years ago. Now, I was giving it back to him. I left it sitting next to a pile of dead batteries. The lead photographer handed a digital tablet to Finn for final approval. In the picture, his family and Sophie were beaming. If you looked very closely at the glass window behind them, you could barely make out a distorted, blurry shadow standing in the dark. That was me. On my final day in the city, I calmly handled all the handover paperwork for the studio. The freight company had already loaded my storage bins onto a truck bound for Portland. The digital access code for my new studio apartment was saved on my brand new phone. I moved through the apartment like a hotel guest checking out, scrubbing away every single trace I had ever lived there. When Finn finally walked through the door, I was sitting at my desk, deleting the final files from my hard drive. It was the wedding reception video. I had scrubbed every single photo of us, replacing them with generic drone footage of mountains and oceans. He saw my swollen wrist, and muscle memory kicked in. He grabbed a tube of medical ointment from the bathroom cabinet and began rubbing it into my skin. For a brief, stupid second, his gentle touch almost made me hesitate. Maybe deep down, there was still a part of him that cared. Then he opened his mouth and shattered the illusion. “Does it feel better? If you are done pouting, go fix the color grading on the wedding video. The tones are way too cold.” He legitimately believed the wedding was still happening. I pulled my arm away from his grip and asked him one final question. “Finn. Have you ever considered what happens if I refuse to keep doing this?” He looked at me like I had just told a terrible joke. “Refuse? Amy, are you really not done throwing this tantrum?” He stood up, looking down at me with pure condescension. “You delete the photos from the reception hall. You walk out of the family shoot. What is this? Are you trying to hold a gun to my head so I announce our relationship online?” “Let me make this clear. I despise being threatened.” So that was it. All my heartbreak, all my endless sacrifices, all my silent suffering. To him, it was just a calculated tantrum to get attention. I actually laughed. I laughed so hard my ribs ached. Right as I did, his phone started ringing frantically. It was the manager at the pet rescue base. He was shouting so loud I could hear it from the chair. “Ollie! Get down here! A heavy lighting rig just collapsed during Sophie’s livestream. She dove to protect a cat and got hit!” All the color drained from Finn’s face. He grabbed his car keys and sprinted out the front door without even looking at me. He completely forgot that we were supposed to do the final venue walkthrough with the catering manager in twenty minutes. Once again, for Sophie, he simply abandoned me. I didn’t run after him. I opened my laptop and clicked on their livestream link. The camera was knocked sideways, showing a chaotic, dusty floor. People were shouting in the background. Then, I saw him. Finn sprinted into the frame. He grabbed Sophie from the floor and pulled her violently against his chest, wrapping his entire body around hers to shield her from any falling debris. He was running his hands through her hair, checking her for injuries. His voice was shaking with absolute raw terror. “Are you okay? Did it hit your head? Talk to me!” Even after the staff confirmed she was just bruised and scared, he refused to let her go. With over twenty thousand people watching live, he buried his face in her neck and held her in a desperate, clinging embrace. A tech rushed over, reaching for the camera. “Should I kill the feed?” “Leave it!” Finn barked, glaring at the guy. “Don’t ruin the engagement metrics!” Three years ago, he screamed at me in the middle of a public street and made me cry just to delete a photo. Today, he was broadcasting his desperate embrace of another woman to tens of thousands of strangers for internet points. He didn’t hate the camera. He just hated the idea of the world knowing I belonged to him. The live chat was going absolutely insane. “HOLY CRAP THE WARDOG ENERGY!” “They are so real for this! This isn’t scripted!” “Please get married right now!” I stared at those comments. I moved my mouse, clicked the little heart icon on the top comment, and closed the window. I popped the SIM card out of my old phone and dropped it into the trash can. I grabbed my coat, walked over to the front door, and placed my metal keycard neatly on the shoe rack. Goodbye, Finn. I pulled the door shut behind me, knowing I would never walk through it again. The night was pitch black. I stood alone on the train platform, the freezing wind whipping through my hair. The second I stepped into the train car, I used my new number to send a mass text message to every single guest on our list. The wedding is cancelled. The train lurched forward. The neon lights of the city blurred into colorful streaks, fading faster and faster into the distance. Miles away, Finn had just finished calming Sophie down. He was pulling his phone out, probably ready to call and yell at me for not caring about the accident. Instead, a notification popped up from the luxury wedding studio. “Dear Mr. Finn. As per the bride, Ms. Amy’s instructions from seven days ago, all wedding services have been permanently terminated. The cancellation notices to your guests have just been deployed. Have a nice evening.” Outside my window, the world was dark and peaceful. While he was burning with anxiety over another woman’s scratched knee, he had permanently lost his bride.

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1 For five years of marriage, Andrew never let me win. I once stood on our penthouse balcony, threatening to jump just to stop a million-dollar wire he sent to Minnie. In retaliation, he dropped ten million on a pink diamond for her the next day. When I locked Minnie in an abandoned warehouse, he had me committed to a psychiatric ward for a month. I broke when I found the lingerie he bought me was the same set he’d already undressed Minnie in. I locked myself on the roof, toes over the edge. Ready to jump, Andrew fell to his knees below, sobbing and holding up the silver guardian angel pendant he’d once prayed for at a cathedral for me. “Nora, I was wrong! I swear I’m done with Minnie. Come down and I’ll spend my life making it up to you.” I smiled bitterly. For the first time, I’d won. That afternoon, Minnie was put on a flight to Australia. Andrew changed. He updated me on his whereabouts, came home for dinner, took me on vacation. On the beach, he smiled and said, “Nora, we’re going to be this happy forever.” I was stupid enough to believe a dead tree could bloom again. Until our anniversary. The flower shop my late mother left me was trashed by thugs. At the police precinct, the desk sergeant pushed a file toward me. “The orchestrators are a married couple. Husband Andrew, wife Minnie. They legally registered their marriage in Australia.” Plunged into a frozen lake, I realized I’d been the outsider all along. This time, I suddenly didn’t want to win anymore. … When I returned from the precinct, my heart was so utterly shattered I could not even speak. Andrew had a cigarette clamped between his lips. His tone was laced with heavily suppressed annoyance. “I admit the flower shop was a mistake…” “But Minnie has been struggling in a foreign country. She does not know anyone there. It does not compare to you sitting comfortably here, enjoying the luxury of being my wife.” “I stayed with you for our anniversary, so it is completely normal that she felt unbalanced and upset!” “Just let her vent her frustration this one time, okay?” I did not say a word. I just stared at him in total silence. This was the man I had loved and hated for five years. Every word falling from his mouth felt like a microscopic needle plunging into my rotting, hole ridden heart. “Struggling in a foreign country?” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Andrew, you personally handled her immigration to Australia. You hired a private translator for her. You bought her a luxury villa.” “The monthly allowance you send her is enough to feed a family of three for five years!” A flicker of unnatural guilt crossed Andrew’s face. “Nora, do you really have to be this aggressive?” “Minnie is pregnant. I could not leave her all alone overseas. Her only condition for agreeing to come back was trashing that shop.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Years ago, I ruined my health eating instant noodles and working myself to the bone to help Andrew build his startup. I developed severe anemia. Right when his business took off, I was kidnapped by one of his corporate rivals. The trauma caused me to lose my first baby. Since then, no matter how many treatments I endured, I could never get pregnant again. I remembered Andrew holding me as I cried, looking at the bruised needle marks all over my arms. “We are done trying, Nora. I am going to get a vasectomy. We can just be child free.” My heart had swelled with so much overwhelming gratitude. I thought that even without children, we could hold onto each other for a lifetime. I stopped him from getting the surgery and finally let go of my obsession with having a baby. Yet now, he and Minnie were having a child. “So you just gave her the green light to destroy the shop my mother left me?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Andrew, my mother held my hand on her deathbed and begged me to protect that store.” “It was the only thing she left me in this entire world!” He took a step forward, reaching out to grab my hand. “I will have a crew restore it tomorrow. I will compensate you double.” “Nora, just give me some time. Once Minnie’s emotions stabilize during the pregnancy, I will handle everything and we can go back to living our lives.” In that moment, I lost all desire to scream or fight. For five years, I had fought him and Minnie like an absolute lunatic. Every time I thought I had finally won, reality delivered a brutal slap to my face. The moon was incredibly bright tonight, hanging in the sky like a giant, glowing tear. I had originally planned a romantic dinner to tell him that against all odds, I was pregnant again. Now, those words were permanently lodged in my throat. His phone rang. It was Minnie. “Minnie brought her dog back from Australia and he is not adjusting well to the climate. I need to go check on them.” “I will make up for the anniversary later.” I watched him pack a bag full of expensive pet supplements and premium treats for Minnie’s dog. My mind instantly flashed to Barnaby, the little Bichon Frise I used to raise. Andrew despised him. He claimed he was deathly allergic to dog hair. To protect his health, I sent Barnaby to live in the country. Watching his anxious, hurried movements, a massive wave of hatred and resentment pushed me out the door. I quietly followed him to Minnie’s villa. Through the cracked door, I saw the man who claimed to be allergic to dogs. He was personally trimming a poodle’s nails, feeding it treats, and cuddling it against his chest. My fingernails dug violently into my palms. Gritting my teeth, I kicked the door open and stormed inside. Minnie was lounging on the sofa, eating a bowl of fresh fruit. The poodle was resting on Andrew’s lap while he carefully clipped its paws. The angle of his jaw highlighted that gentle, tender expression I used to know so well. On the night I had to send Barnaby away, he had held me just like that while I sobbed. “Nora, thank you for understanding. I promise I will never make you sad again.” Now, that exact same tenderness was being wasted on Minnie’s dog. The blood rushed straight to my head, making my vision pulse. “Andrew, I thought you were allergic to dogs.” I marched forward, pointing a shaking finger at the poodle rolling playfully in his lap. “You are holding that thing pretty tight. You look perfectly fine to me!” Minnie slowly chewed a piece of fruit, a lazy, arrogant smirk resting on her lips. “Nora, perfect timing. I was actually meaning to tell you.” “Barnaby apparently knocked over Andrew’s grandmother upstate. So she dropped him off at a county pound. He was put down.” My eyes widened in pure horror. Put down? For three whole years, I had refused to visit Barnaby. I was terrified that if I saw him, my heart would break and I would bring him back, making Andrew suffer. Andrew constantly assured me that Barnaby was running wild and free in the country, living a much happier life. He promised that once his allergies cleared up, we would go pick him up together. I waited like an absolute idiot for that day. I never realized our goodbye three years ago was permanent. Andrew’s eyes flickered with guilt. “Barnaby accidentally tripped my grandmother, and she…” I let out a broken laugh as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “Andrew, your grandmother has been bedridden in a nursing home for three years! She cannot even walk!” “You expect me to believe she drove upstate to dump my dog at a kill shelter?” He did not answer. Minnie’s lips curled higher. “Oh, do not blame Andrew!” “I was the one who had him disposed of. That mutt was too loud, and I need absolute peace and quiet for my pregnancy.” Andrew did not utter a single word of defense. In that fraction of a second, the sickening truth settled into my bones. He had authorized Barnaby’s death. As long as Minnie was unhappy, Andrew would effortlessly clear away any obstacle in her path. His silence was a serrated blade twisting deep into my chest. “Give me my dog back!” I let out a bloodcurdling scream and lunged forward. Minnie shrieked in fake terror, pushing Andrew out of the way to use herself as a shield. “Hit me if you want! Andrew has nothing to do with this!” Five years of suffocating injustice erupted like a volcano. I grabbed a handful of her hair and brought my hand across her cheek, slapping her over and over again. “You stole my husband! You destroyed my mother’s shop! And you murdered my dog!” Minnie wailed, curling into a tight ball on the floor. Andrew charged forward and delivered a brutal kick to my side, sending me flying backwards. The terrified poodle lunged at me, sinking its teeth sharply into my calf. Agony flared up my leg. I screamed as my balance failed completely. I fell backwards. Andrew instinctively reached out his hand to catch me. But Minnie let out a piercing cry and clutched her stomach. “Andrew, my baby… my stomach hurts.” Andrew instantly retracted his hand, spinning around to catch the falling Minnie instead. With a deafening crash, I slammed backward into a glass display cabinet. The heavy panes shattered, raining jagged shards of glass over me like a shower of knives. Andrew did not even look back. He just clutched Minnie against his chest, his voice trembling with sheer panic. “Minnie! Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Minnie buried her face in his shirt. “My stomach is cramping so badly. Is the baby going to be okay?” Andrew finally lifted his head to look at me, his eyes boiling with absolute rage and disgust. “Nora, are you done acting like a psychopath?!” My ears were ringing violently from his screaming. Dozens of deep cuts were bleeding freely across my arms and back, staining my clothes and dripping onto the expensive rug. “Just because you are incapable of being a mother, you have to ruin Minnie’s chances too?!” That sentence was a sledgehammer smashing directly into my soul. He knew perfectly well that I lost my baby because of his corporate enemies. Yet he weaponized my deepest, most agonizing trauma just to defend another woman. “Andrew, do you have the guts to look me in the eye and say that again?” “Did I say something wrong? Nora, how many doctors have I taken you to over the last five years?” “Top specialists, holistic clinics, everything! The fact you cannot get pregnant is your own biological failure. Have I ever blamed you for it?” “You knew Minnie was pregnant, and you still attacked her. How vicious can you possibly be?” I clenched my fists so tight my nails pierced the flesh of my palms. “Call yourself a cab to the hospital. If you need anything, it will have to wait until I get Minnie checked out.” Andrew scooped Minnie into his arms and walked out the door without looking back. I sat in a pool of shattered glass, my heart squeezed so tightly I could not pull air into my lungs. A sharp, throbbing cramp started pulsating in my lower abdomen. I looked around the luxurious villa, a masochistic urge forcing me to take in the details. The floor to ceiling windows were massive. The curtains were the exact shade of cream I had always dreamed of. That winter, when Andrew and I lived in a freezing basement apartment, we used to eat instant noodles while sketching out architectural blueprints for our future. The kitchen was an open concept, featuring three warm yellow pendant lights hanging over the island. He used to hold his cheap bowl of noodles and say, “When we strike it rich, I am going to build my baby a massive white kitchen!” “You can bake cakes in there, and I will be your handsome assistant!” The steam from the noodles had clouded my face as I watched him smile like an absolute fool. He kept his promise. He built the exact house. Only, he built it for Minnie. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had not called in a very long time. “Lucas. I regret everything. Can you come pick me up?” I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. By the time they loaded me onto the stretcher, the pain in my stomach was so agonizing I could not straighten my spine. It felt like the baby inside me realized what was happening and was slowly tearing its way downward. As the paramedics rushed the stretcher through the ER lobby, I instantly spotted Andrew holding Minnie. They wheeled me right past them. Minnie lifted her head and locked eyes with me. Suddenly, she let out a hysterical scream. “Nora, please let me go! I am so sorry!” She violently ripped herself from Andrew’s embrace and dropped heavily onto her knees right on the hospital tiles. She bowed her head frantically toward my moving stretcher. “Nora, the baby is innocent!” “If you want to hit me or curse me, do it! Just please do not hurt my child!” Every single person in the waiting room turned to stare at us. Minnie wept uncontrollably. “I have absolutely nothing! This baby is all I have!” “Please just let him live!” Andrew rushed forward and wrapped his arms protectively around her, glaring at me with pure venom. “Nora, what the hell do you want from us?” The cramping in my stomach was escalating into a blinding agony. I did not even have the energy to speak. Right at that moment, a nurse standing nearby gasped loudly, staring at her phone. “Wait, isn’t this the homewrecker trending on Twitter right now?” The trending hashtag featured a batch of censored, explicit photos. The censorship barely covered anything, and the face belonged undeniably to Minnie. The caption read in bold letters: “Knew he was married, still spread her legs!” Andrew snatched the phone from the nurse, took one look at the screen, and his face turned to absolute ice. “You posted this.” He did not ask. He had already convicted me in his mind. I wanted to tell him it was not me. I had absolutely nothing to do with those photos. But my abdomen violently contracted. A massive rush of warm liquid soaked through my clothes, instantly staining the white sheets of the stretcher dark red. “Andrew, I am losing…” “You storm into her house and assault her, and now you are putting on this pathetic show in the ER?” “Nora, when are you going to stop this psychotic behavior?” He grabbed my wrist in a vice grip and violently yanked me right off the stretcher. I was dragged out of the sliding glass doors of the hospital like a broken ragdoll. It was the peak of a grueling summer heatwave. The asphalt was baking in the hundred degree sun. He threw me forward. I collapsed directly onto a heavy, cast iron utility cover embedded in the pavement. The metal cover had been soaking up the brutal sun all day. It was as hot as a frying pan. The second my bare palms hit the iron, the skin instantly blistered and burned. A horrific, searing pain shot up my arms. I screamed in agony, desperately trying to push myself up. But a tearing, explosive pain ripped through my abdomen at the exact same time. “Andrew… the baby. I am pregnant with your baby…” My voice was so weak it barely registered above a whisper. Andrew stood two steps away, looking down at me with arctic coldness. “How long are you going to keep lying?” “Five years ago, you couldn’t get pregnant, so you fabricated a kidnapping story. Now that Minnie is pregnant, you fabricate your own pregnancy!” “Nora, the fact you can confidently spit out these sick lies proves you have absolutely no boundaries left.” I lay gasping on the blistering utility cover, the skin of my palms practically fusing to the hot metal. The twisting agony in my stomach felt like someone was physically ripping my organs out. Blood pooled onto the iron surface, seeping into the cracks. A nurse burst through the ER doors, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Sir! Stop dragging her! She is having a miscarriage!” Andrew finally turned his head. He took half a step forward. Just then, Minnie stumbled out the doors, leaning weakly against the frame. “Andrew, do not fall for it!” Her voice was incredibly soft and frail. “Nora knows you have a soft heart! She pulls this exact stunt every single time!” “She obviously bribed that nurse to fake a miscarriage!” “How could she possibly be pregnant? The best doctors in the country said she was barren five years ago!” The tiny sliver of panic in Andrew’s eyes vanished, freezing over into solid ice once again. “You are right. I almost let her play me again.” He let out a cruel sneer and pulled a bright red marriage certificate from his jacket, throwing it directly at my face. “Let me tell you the truth. The certificate I gave you five years ago was a prop. It does not even have a state seal.” “Take a good look and tell me who the real mistress is.” A deafening explosion went off in my brain. Everything faded to white. After we got our certificate, Andrew said he wanted to keep it in a safe to protect it, so he took my copy. After Minnie came along, he constantly gaslighted me, claiming I had the official title of Mrs. Andrew, so I needed to be more forgiving of Minnie. But in the end, my entire marriage was a pathetic hallucination. A ragged, rattling gasp tore from my throat. I desperately tried to speak, but not a single word came out. “Andrew, let’s go home. I am so tired, and it is way too hot out here!” Minnie cast a fleeting glance down at me. The triumphant smirk on her face was partially hidden by her hair. “Nora, please stop lying. The more you do this, the more Andrew is going to hate you.” When I finally woke up, I was lying in a sterile hospital room. My right palm was wrapped in thick layers of white gauze. My abdomen felt hollow and terribly empty. A nurse was sitting by my bed. “We couldn’t save the baby. Where is your family?” I stared blankly at the ceiling and weakly shook my head. The man I had lived with for five years was legally married to another woman. Andrew was no longer my family. On the day I was discharged, I took a cab straight to the house to pack my bags. The moment I opened my closet, I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Two uniformed police officers stopped at the bedroom door. “Are you Nora? We received a report that you are trespassing and illegally occupying a private residence. Please come with us.” My entire body froze. This was the home I had lived in for five years. When we supposedly got married, Andrew promised my name was on the deed. I trusted him so completely I never even checked the paperwork. The officer handed me a copy of the property registry. The owner section clearly displayed one name: Minnie. The purchase date was exactly five years ago. “Ms. Minnie has requested you vacate the premises within three days. You are legally prohibited from removing any assets that do not belong to you.” I stared at the piece of paper, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. What in this house actually belonged to me? I poured my blood, sweat, and money into renovating this place. All the gold jewelry and diamonds I had saved up over the last five years legally belonged to Minnie. With trembling fingers, I finally dialed Andrew’s number. “Hello?” “Andrew, I am at the police precinct. They said I am trespassing and the house belongs to Minnie. Explain this to me right now.” Dead silence stretched across the line. Finally, he spoke. “Nora, Minnie has a very important business dinner tonight. Just go home for now…” “Go home to where?” I cut him off, my voice shaking violently. “Tell me where I am supposed to go! Andrew, I lived in that house for five years, and you are telling me it was never mine?” He did not say anything. Through the phone, I heard Minnie’s sweet voice. “Andrew, come zip up my evening gown for me…” The call abruptly disconnected. A notification popped up on my phone screen. Andrew had just posted a new update on his corporate social media. It was a high resolution scan of his Australian marriage certificate. The names, the date, the official government seal. Everything was crystal clear. The caption was a single sentence: “Tolerated it for five years. She was never my wife.” I clicked on the comment section. Pure, unfiltered malice flooded my screen. “Look at Nora acting like a lunatic. Total schizophrenia!” “The real boss finally speaks up!” “Mr. Andrew protecting his actual wife is so hot!” “Women like her are rats in the gutter. If she can’t have him, she tries to destroy him!” I sat on the cold plastic chair in the precinct, gripping my phone as the warmth drained entirely from my fingertips. A female officer handed me a paper cup of hot water. “Ma’am, are you going to be okay?” I took the cup. The dam finally broke, and I completely fell apart, sobbing uncontrollably right there in the police station. By the time I walked out of the precinct, the sky was pitch black. My phone lit up again. Another message from Andrew. “Nora, Minnie was just throwing a little tantrum. Once she calms down, I will take you house hunting!” I stared at the text message and let out a broken, raspy laugh. I waited five years for a man who never existed. I was done waiting. I pressed down on the message, swiped left, and hit delete. Then, I permanently blocked his number. The next morning, I handed a meticulously crafted presentation and my official medical miscarriage report to Minnie’s assistant, Lily. I also transferred a massive sum of money into her account. I explicitly instructed her to project it onto the main screen during Minnie’s massive celebration banquet. The presentation documented the exact timeline of Andrew and my relationship, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt who the real mistress was. It was enough to permanently destroy Minnie’s reputation. After putting the final nail in her coffin, I boarded a one way flight to Italy. For the rest of my life, I would never look back. Hours later, Andrew walked into the house. His eyes instantly locked onto a piece of paper resting on the kitchen counter, stamped with a bright red hospital seal. Patient: Nora. Seven weeks pregnant. Miscarriage due to blunt force trauma. Date: The day of our anniversary. The color vanished entirely from his face…

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1 My wife was supposed to have died in a tragic plane crash, leaving behind a brief final note. She claimed she didn’t want to be a burden, telling me to take our child and start over without her. I was sobbing uncontrollably when I suddenly heard a voice inside my head. It belonged to my daughter, who was supposed to be completely non-verbal. Dad, stop crying. Mom isn’t dead at all. She is a complete piece of trash. She cheated on you with her high school sweetheart, and they both faked her death to flee the country for a tropical honeymoon. I know exactly where her secret stash is hidden. Before she gets back, let’s drain her accounts, grab the money, and run. We’ll be set for life! The hallway outside the morgue stretched out endlessly under the harsh, blinding glow of fluorescent lights. Ellie’s business partner handed me a crumpled slip of paper. Her last words. Take the baby. Start over. I clutched the note, my fingers trembling violently. Just thirty minutes ago, I had received the phone call. Ellie’s flight had gone down. No survivors. I had rushed to the hospital, only to be met with cold, solemn faces telling me to accept my grief. And now, even in death, she was passing a message through an intermediary, telling me to rebuild my life. Tears dripped onto the paper, smudging the ink line by line. My father stood beside me, his hand on my shoulder, eyes rimmed with red. “Gavin, please. Don’t do this to yourself. You still have your baby to live for.” “Dad, I just need a moment alone.” The hallway fell quiet as he stepped away. I slumped against the cold wall, slowly sliding down until I was crouching with my face buried in my knees. That was when I heard a childish, high-pitched voice speaking with a chilling composure that didn’t belong to a kid. Dad, stop crying. Mom isn’t dead at all. My entire body froze. She’s a piece of trash. She cheated on you with her first love, and the two of them ran off overseas to live it up on a honeymoon. I snapped my head up. The corridor was utterly empty. There wasn’t a single soul around. I thought grief was making me lose my mind. Taking a deep breath, I tried to push myself up. The voice returned, clearer this time. It’s me, Dad. Mom told you to take me and start over because she was terrified you’d claim a share of her estate. She thinks you have no clue how much money she really has. My knuckles turned white as I clutched my pants. This wasn’t a hallucination. The voice was echoing straight inside my head. I stared down at my lap, my lips quivering. “Baby?” Yep, it’s me. Stop crying for a second and hear me out. Mom never boarded that plane. She paid top dollar to forge the passenger manifest. Tristan is her ex. They’ve been secretly back together for six months. She wanted you to abort me not because she cared about your struggles, but because she didn’t want another heir cutting into her fortune. A violent buzz echoed in my brain. Check the hidden compartment in the study. Right under the third floorboard. Three account books, two USB drives, and a one-way ticket to the Maldives under Tristan’s name. Go see for yourself. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. There is also a bank card loaded with twenty million dollars, registered under Tristan’s name. She used him to offload her assets. Dad, that’s our money now. Let’s spend it. I know where all her secret vaults are. Before she gets back, we take everything and vanish. Our future will be completely secured! I didn’t utter a word. Footsteps clattered down the far end of the hallway. Ellie’s partner, Vivian, was walking back toward me. “Gavin, are you holding up alright? You know what Ellie wanted. As for the baby… you need to make a decision soon.” Her eyes brimmed with gentle concern, yet beneath it lay an unspoken push. I stood up, tears still glistening on my cheeks. I looked down at my stomach, placing a hand over it. “Thank you, Vivian. I’ll think about it.” She nodded softly and turned to leave. Nia’s voice floated back into my mind, smooth and unhurried. Yeah, keep that exact look on your face. Dad, let’s destroy her. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, I rested my hand firmly over my bump, tuning into her thoughts. “Baby.” Yeah? “Did you say she went to the Maldives?” Mm-hmm. Two tickets, both booked under Tristan’s name. “When is she coming back?” In two weeks. I wiped my face clean of tears. Two weeks. That was more than enough time. When I got home from the hospital, I went straight into the study. Behind the bookshelf, Nia’s voice sounded coolly. There’s a safe. I hadn’t even known a safe existed in our house. It was built into the wall, secured with a six-digit combination lock. The code is Tristan’s birthday. June 15, 1992. 920615. I paused for a second. 920615. I typed in the digits. The heavy lock clicked open. There wasn’t much inside. A bank passbook, two thick stacks of cash, and a thick kraft paper envelope. I pulled out the envelope first and opened it. A stack of photographs fell out. Tristan walking along a sandy beach. Tristan sipping coffee by a window. Tristan smiling warmly into the camera. The shots were taken from various angles, looking almost candid, almost secret. Tucked beneath the stack was a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, I recognized Ellie’s sleek handwriting. Wait for me, Tristan. Just four words. The strokes were heavy, pressed so hard into the paper that the back was deeply indented. She had written it with fierce conviction. I slipped the photos and the note back into the envelope without altering a thing. Next, I opened the passbook. The holder’s name was Tristan. Every single deposit exceeded fifty thousand dollars, transferred regularly from Ellie under the label “Living Expenses.” The most recent transaction was from a month ago: a flat one hundred thousand dollars. Dad, there’s more stuff on her laptop, Nia chimed in. I sat down at the desk. Ellie’s laptop required both biometric verification and a password. My fingerprint cleared the first security check. The second check was a six-digit code. 920615. I entered it. The desktop loaded instantly. Check the Recycle Bin. The bin icon showed empty. I opened it anyway, but nothing was listed. She cleared it before leaving, Nia noted. But clearing it doesn’t mean it’s permanently gone. Follow my instructions and restore the files. I executed my daughter’s step-by-step instructions. Ten minutes later, over three hundred deleted files reappeared in the bin. I opened the folder labeled Chat Logs. Conversations with “Tristan” over the past three months. I clicked on the top thread. Ellie: Tickets are locked in for the 15th next month. Tristan: Are you sure he won’t suspect anything? Ellie: Not a chance. I told him it’s just a business trip. Tristan: What about the baby? Have you talked to him yet? Ellie: Not yet. It’ll be easier for him to accept once I “disappear.” Tristan: How are you going to pull off “disappearing”? Ellie: I’ve got it all arranged. Don’t panic when it happens, just follow my lead. I scrolled down line by line. Every phrase felt like a sharp needle, stabbing lightly but relentlessly. Tristan asked, When are you going to come clean with him? She replied, No need to come clean. I’ll make sure he walks away on his own. Tristan said, I’m worried he’ll make a scene. She replied, He won’t. He has no spine. I snapped the laptop shut. Dad, there’s another card hidden in the false bottom of the box, Nia reminded me. I felt around the interior of the safe until my fingers caught on a small groove. Sure enough, a plastic card popped out. “Whose card is this?” I asked silently. Tristan’s. It’s under his name, but the money is Mom’s. She stashed part of her wealth with him before leaving so you wouldn’t track it down. I held the card between my fingers, examining it carefully. “How much is on it?” Over four million. I pocketed the card in silence. My legs felt numb when I tried to stand, forcing me to lean against the edge of the desk for support. Dad, aren’t you going to the funeral home? Nia asked softly. “Yeah.” I put on a plain black shirt and didn’t bother fixing my messy hair or face. In the mirror, the man looking back had swollen red eyes and a deathly pale face. I looked every bit the grieving widower. Good. I wouldn’t even have to pretend. When I arrived at the memorial center, reporters were already waiting outside. Ellie’s “belongings” were brought out in a silver suitcase: a few casual outfits, a leather wallet, and her passport. My hands trembled as the staff member passed the suitcase to me. I recognized the clothes inside. There was a grey cashmere sweater I had bought her last winter. She had told me back then, “This is way too expensive, you should return it.” I had smiled and replied, “It looks beautiful on you.” She had kept it, but she had never worn it once. Now, that very sweater had taken a fake trip around the airport with a woman who faked her death, only to be delivered right back to my hands. I cradled the suitcase, tears splashing onto the metallic surface. Reporters crowded around, shoving microphones toward my face. “Mr. Lin, is there anything you’d like to say to your late wife?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My father supported me from the side, tears streaming down his own face. Relatives whispered around us, sighing in pity. “Poor guy… left all alone with a child on the way.” I doubled over, sobbing so hard I could barely stand. By evening, my picture was plastered across the local news headlines. Grieving Husband Collapses at Memorial for Finance Executive Killed in Air Disaster. When we returned home, I shut the door, tossed the suitcase onto the floor, and slid down against the wooden panel. Nia’s voice bubbled up in my mind. Dad, you really put on a show today. Careful, or your eyes are gonna swell shut. I let out a long sigh. “I was genuinely heartbroken. That cashmere sweater set me back over twelve hundred dollars.” …Dad, you were crying over a sweater? “It was my hard-earned money! Twelve hundred bucks! If I knew she’d never wear it, I wouldn’t have spent a dime.” Nia sounded entirely speechless. Tomorrow, we start hunting down Mom’s secret stash. Her total assets aren’t just twelve hundred, they’re at least eight million. Over the next few days, I put on the performance of a devastated, broken husband, making sure nobody doubted my grief. I didn’t even need to force the emotions; reading through Ellie’s text messages with Tristan was enough to keep me miserable. On the third day, Ellie’s business partner, Vivian, came by the house. She sat on the living room sofa, looking solemn and heavy-hearted. I wore a wrinkled hoodie, hadn’t washed my hair in days, and my eyes were swollen to slits. “Gavin… about Ellie… we are all deeply saddened. But you know what her final wishes were. You need to let go. Holding on like this will ruin your health.” “I know,” I murmured, keeping my head low, voice shaking. “I’ve arranged everything with the hospital. The top specialist will handle the procedure. It’s completely safe.” I raised my head to look at her, my eyes bloodshot. “Vivian, can you give me a little more time to think?” She scrutinized me for a moment, sighed softly, and stood up to leave. The instant the front door clicked shut, Nia’s voice rang out clearly. Dad, she’s pushing you to abort me because Mom instructed her to. As long as I’m here, you’re entitled to a share of the estate. If I’m gone, you get kicked out with nothing. “I know.” Then why didn’t you put her in her place just now? “The timing isn’t right yet.” I stood up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. The man in the mirror was pale, exhausted, and covered in tear stains. I pulled a bottle of moisturizer from the drawer, tested a drop on my hand, and then set it back down. Not yet. By the fourth day, I began making phone calls. “Hello, Ms. Scott? This is Gavin, Ellie’s husband… Yes, I’d like to consult you regarding marital assets.” Ms. Scott was one of the sharpest family law attorneys in the city. Her voice lowered over the receiver. “Mr. Lin, is it convenient for you to speak right now?” “It is. My wife passed away.” Silence stretched over the line for two seconds. “…My condolences.” I recited a detailed list of every asset registered under Ellie’s name that I could track. When I finished, Ms. Scott asked, “Are you certain these are all of them?” “I’m not. That’s why I’m calling you.” After hanging up, I contacted financial advisors and bank representatives. I didn’t know the access codes to most of Ellie’s private accounts, but Nia did. Dad, her off-grid account at Grand Trust uses Tristan’s birthday as the PIN. Call them directly and request an emergency balance inquiry. They’ll release it to the legal spouse upon verification. I picked up my phone, my fingers hovering briefly. “What else?” Her Porsche was bought on a loan. Don’t touch it, let her credit take the hit. The suburban house is under her mother’s name, so forget about that one. But the downtown apartment was bought after marriage, and it’s solely under her name. You own half of that. “What’s it worth?” Market value is around five hundred thousand. List it for a quick sale at forty thousand below market. It’ll sell within a week. I took notes as she spoke, filling seventeen items in my phone’s memo app. Stocks, mutual funds, savings, real estate, each paired with precise instructions on how to liquidate them. On the fifth day, I went to Ellie’s corporate office to pack up her “personal belongings.” Vivian escorted me into the spacious office. As the door closed, I could hear employees whispering outside. “Poor Mr. Lin, coming all the way here to pack up her things while expecting…” I stood in front of Ellie’s mahogany desk for a long moment before picking up a framed picture. It was our wedding photo. In it, she had her arm wrapped around my waist, and I was beaming at the camera. I placed the frame into a cardboard box, letting a fresh tear fall. Vivian stood near the doorway, hesitating. “Gavin… if you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to ask.” “Thank you, Vivian,” I wiped my eyes. “Can I stay in here alone for a few minutes?” “Of course.” Once the door clicked shut, I knelt down, pulled the photo frame out of the box, and popped open the back panel. There was nothing hidden inside. I wasn’t actually looking for anything. I just wanted to confirm that she hadn’t bothered to leave behind a single genuine memory. I took only three things from her office: our wedding photo, a five-year-old worn leather notebook, and a fountain pen she never used. I carried the box home and set it beside my bed. On the evening of the sixth day, I lay in bed, reviewing my phone memo from top to bottom. Six million dollars. That was the total sum Nia had calculated. Dad, are you nervous? “Not at all.” Your heart rate is at a hundred and ten. “…Maybe a little.” Don’t be. Everything you’re doing is completely legal. Marital assets left behind by a ‘deceased’ spouse are inherited by the surviving partner. Her faking a plane crash is her crime; you liquidating assets is your right. The two don’t conflict. I rolled onto my side, resting a hand gently over my stomach. “Nia, thank you.” Silence stretched for two seconds. Dad, don’t thank me yet. Wait until I help you win this entire game. Seven days ago, I was weeping in a funeral hall. Seven days later, every liquid dollar under Ellie’s name was officially en route to accounts she couldn’t touch. Nia’s voice echoed in my mind, relaxed and steady. Dad, the Sinclairs are coming tomorrow. “I know.” Are you ready for them? I stroked my bump gently. “What do you think?” Early the next morning, Tristan’s family showed up right on schedule. At ten o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. I peeked through the peephole. Tristan’s parents were standing outside alongside a middle-aged woman in a sharp business suit, holding a leather briefcase. I opened the door. I didn’t need to fake my exhaustion; over the past eight days, I had lost nearly ten pounds. “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair?” Tristan’s father forced a sympathetic smile. “Gavin, son. We came to check on you. We were worried about you managing all alone.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Mrs. Sinclair slipped in behind him, and the suit-clad woman followed, pulling the door shut behind them. I closed the latch and remained standing in the entryway. Mr. Sinclair took a seat on the sofa, surveying the room before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Gavin, we heard about Ellie. It’s such a tragedy… a true shock.” He dabbed at the corner of his eyes, though there wasn’t a single tear. Mrs. Sinclair sat beside him and cleared her throat. “Ellie was always so good to our family. She even sent us monthly living allowances…” I nodded slowly. “She certainly was generous. Three thousand dollars a month for three straight years. That comes out to over a hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Sinclair’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before recovering. “Yes, well, she was a dutiful girl…” “Extremely dutiful,” I replied smoothly. “If people didn’t know better, they’d think you two were her actual in-laws.” The living room instantly fell dead silent. Mr. Sinclair’s mouth hovered open. Mrs. Sinclair’s expression hardened. The woman in the suit cleared her throat and opened her briefcase. “Mr. Lin, we’re here today to discuss a prior commitment made by Ms. Ellie.” “What commitment?” She pulled out a neatly folded document and smoothed it onto the coffee table. “This is an IOU signed personally by Ms. Ellie for seventy-five thousand dollars. The loan was co-signed by her and Mr. Tristan Sinclair to support Mrs. Sinclair’s business ventures. Now that Ms. Ellie has tragically passed, this liability falls onto you as her sole estate heir.” I walked over, picked up the paper, and scanned it. It was indeed Ellie’s handwriting. The signature was authentic, dated a year ago. Tristan’s elegant signature sat right next to hers. The attorney pulled another stack of papers from her bag. “Additionally, Ms. Ellie pledged to provide Mr. Tristan’s parents with three thousand dollars monthly until their passing. Here are screenshots of their chat logs confirming her personal commitment.” I set the IOU back on the table and looked straight at Mr. Sinclair. “Sir, did you come here today expecting cash?” Mr. Sinclair let out a soft sigh, his tone turning as soft as cotton. “Gavin, we didn’t want to come. But with Ellie gone, Tristan has no steady support… We rely on these funds in our old age. You know his mother’s health isn’t great…” “Health isn’t great, yet you let your daughter-in-law fund your lifestyle?” I interrupted coldly. Mr. Sinclair’s face drained of color. “Who bought the BMW your daughter drives? Who paid for the designer belt your son wears? And who covered the down payment on your three-bedroom house?” I spoke deliberately, letting every word cut through the air. “Ellie did.” Mrs. Sinclair stood up defensively. “Gavin, watch your tone—” “I am watching my tone,” I glared at her. “Ma’am, the vacation home you built in your hometown cost over a hundred thousand dollars. Where did that money come from?” Her mouth worked silently, unable to form an answer. I pulled a stack of financial statements from the side drawer and tossed them onto the table. Page after page of itemized bank transfer records. “These are all the transfers Ellie made to your family over the years. The monthly allowances plus various ‘loans’ total over two hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Sinclair stared at the numbers, his lips trembling. “Gavin… this was given voluntarily by Ellie…” “Voluntarily,” I agreed with a slight nod. “Then by all means, go ask her for it.” Silence descended upon the room once again. The lawyer coughed nervously. “Mr. Lin, even if these transfers are accurate, they do not invalidate the legal binding of the signed IOU. As the estate heir—” “As the estate heir,” I cut her off, “I have the right to divide our marital property first.” “And once divided, that money is mine.” “Furthermore, I have a question I’d like to consult a prosecutor about.” I locked eyes with Mr. Sinclair, my voice quiet yet piercing. “Over the past three years, does the two hundred thousand dollars your family received count as unjust enrichment or illegal asset concealment?” Mr. Sinclair’s face turned completely ghost-white. Mrs. Sinclair grabbed his arm, practically dragging him toward the front door. I leaned back against the sofa, resting my hand against my chest. My heart was pounding fast, not out of fear, but sheer adrenaline. Dad. “Yeah?” Tomorrow, your wife comes back from the dead. “She’s not my wife anymore.” Right. Tomorrow, the dead woman comes back to life. I pulled out my phone and checked the calendar. Day fourteen. It was time for her return.

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Chapter 1 Three years into our marriage, Julian suddenly lost interest in me. Every time we fought, he would just push his childhood best friend, Mia, between us. “Mia is a woman too; she understands you better. Talk to her, and stop making a scene with me.” Desperate to force him to actually look at me, I maxed out three of his platinum cards in a single day. I took a pair of scissors to every custom-tailored dress shirt in his closet. On our anniversary, I posted on Facebook: [Julian Vance has a mistress. He hasn’t been home in three years.] When mutual friends screenshotted it and texted him, he just frowned at Mia. “Go ask her if she’s done acting crazy.” Hearing the sheer disgust in his voice, a pang of regret actually hit me. I was just about to swallow my pride and apologize when I heard Mia’s voice, dripping with overwhelming guilt: “Julian, please don’t blame Chloe. She just wants you to comfort her.” “If you hadn’t gone off the grid with me in Iceland for seven days to see the Northern Lights… maybe her parents wouldn’t have been pushed to the brink by those debt collectors…” “And then you forced her to get an abortion because you and I made a pact to remain child-free, and it left her infertile. I know you lied and told her those things were just accidents, but I’ve always felt so guilty…” “The doctor said her mental state might improve if she had a child. Just… let her have the baby I’m carrying.” A heavy silence followed. Finally, Julian spoke. “Focus on your pregnancy. Don’t let that crazy woman anywhere near you.” Suddenly… I didn’t want to make a scene anymore. That night, Mia came to my room holding two of Julian’s black cards, looking at me with eyes full of pity. “Julian said you can max these out too, if it makes you feel better. He knows your mental health is fragile right now, Chloe. He wants me to handle all communications between you two from now on.” I stared at her hand—the one she had intentionally, delicately placed over her lower stomach. I looked down, pulled a divorce agreement from my drawer, and placed it in her free hand. “In that case, you can handle the divorce negotiations, too.” … Mia looked down at the paperwork, a mask of deep conflict settling over her face. “Chloe… does Julian know about this?” “He doesn’t,” I said, meeting her gaze. “But you’re going to make sure he signs it.” Mia hesitated. “Chloe, please don’t misunderstand me. Julian really does care about you. It’s just that you’re always so hysterical, he’s afraid to get close…” “Mia.” I cut her off. “I want to see the signed agreement in three days. You’re so good at passing messages. Pass this one along.” She bit her lip, her voice turning even softer and sweeter. “Chloe, Julian’s been having terrible stomach issues lately. Please don’t pressure him…” “I’m not pressuring him,” I smiled faintly. “I’m pressuring you.” Her expression stiffened for a fraction of a second before melting back into absolute docility. She turned and brought over a small, steaming bowl of bird’s nest soup. “Let’s put this aside for now. Have some soup.” “Bird’s nest is the absolute best thing for pregnant women. Even though you aren’t pregnant, Chloe, it’s still very nourishing.” I looked at the bowl and let out a dry laugh. No wonder the housekeeper had been stewing this expensive soup every single day for the past month. It was for the pregnant woman. I was highly allergic to bird’s nest. Julian knew that. My mind drifted over the past three years. Every single time Julian and I fought, Mia was there, pouring tea, acting as the peacemaker. “Don’t be mad, Chloe. You know Julian just has a hard time expressing his feelings.” “Julian, Chloe just wants what’s best for you. Go talk to her.” I genuinely used to believe that our marriage was only surviving because she was playing the mediator. I used to feel guilty for being jealous of her. I thought I was being petty and insecure. But now, it was like a blindfold had been ripped off. Everything from the past three years suddenly made sickening sense. She was just the daughter of the Vance family’s chauffeur, yet she had unrestricted access to the family estate. She was the only one who knew the passcode to Julian’s private study. She was the “messenger” for our marriage, but every single thing she did made her look more like Mrs. Vance than I did. I pushed the bowl back across the table. “I’ll wait for your news.” As I stood up, I added one last thing. “Oh, and you don’t need to consult me about household matters anymore. You have full authority.” I hadn’t noticed the study door open. Julian had obviously heard my last sentence. He glared at me, his brow heavily furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘full authority’? Chloe, are you Mrs. Vance, or is she?” I turned to look at him. “Is there a difference? For the past three years, she attends family galas in my place. She relays your words to me. She knows better than I do which high-society events I should attend and who I should network with. Tell me, which duty of ‘Mrs. Vance’ has she not fulfilled?” “You—” Mia immediately stepped between us. “Julian, Chloe is just upset right now. Please don’t be mad at her.” She reached out, grabbing my arm in her perfect ‘peacemaker’ act. “Don’t touch me!” I instinctively pulled my arm back. With a dramatic gasp, Mia threw her entire body weight sideways, collapsing toward the floor. Julian’s face instantly turned white. He lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground. “Chloe!” He snapped his head up to glare at me, his eyes burning with an uncontainable rage. “Are you out of your damn mind?! She spends every single day dealing with your psychotic drama, she’s completely exhausted, and now you’re getting physical?!” I stood frozen in place. In the past, whenever I pulled away from her, she would just take a half-step back, smile sweetly, and say, “Don’t be mad, Chloe.” But today, she dared to throw herself at the floor. She dared to huddle against his chest with red, teary eyes. She dared to let him see me “push” her. Because she had something in her belly now. She knew that if she fell, Julian’s heart would break. She knew it would just prove that I was “crazy.” Sure enough, Julian’s voice dropped to a dangerous octave. “Are we going to make this marriage work or not?” “No.” I heard myself laugh, a sharp, broken sound. “No, we’re not. Is that what you want to hear? You’re right, Julian. I am crazy.” Mia nestled in his arms, whispering softly, “Julian, let it go. I know Chloe didn’t mean it…” “Shut up.” I pointed a shaking finger at her. “You can drop the act, Mia. You’re the perfect messenger, right? Then I’ll tell you right now: make him sign the papers. Sign them, and I’m gone. I will never step foot in this house again.” Julian stared at me, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. “What kind of psychotic episode is this?” “Psychotic episode?” I smiled, taking a step back. “Right. I’m crazy. You want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.” I spun around, stormed into his study, grabbed a heavy porcelain vase, and hurled it directly at his prized, antique painting on the wall. The glass shattered. Black ink splattered across the hardwood floor. “Is that crazy enough?” I turned back to look at him. “Do you want more?” He stood in the doorway, shielding Mia behind his back. He looked at me like I was a terminal patient who had finally lost her mind. “Chloe,” he said coldly. “Calm down.” “I am perfectly calm.” I dusted off my hands and smiled faintly. “Julian, starting today, whoever you want to be Mrs. Vance can be Mrs. Vance. I don’t give a damn anymore.” Julian’s face darkened like a thundercloud. “You are the one who schemed and plotted your way into this marriage, and now you’re the one saying you don’t give a damn. Chloe, what do you think the Vance family is? A revolving door?” I smiled bitterly. He was right. I had exhausted every ounce of my energy to lock myself inside this gilded cage. I had swallowed the key and lied to myself, calling it love. “In the Vance family, marriages only end in widowhood, not divorce,” he enunciated every single word. “If you think you’re walking out of here alive, you’re dreaming.” He turned his head to the housekeeper standing nervously in the hall. “Take my wife to her room. She is not to leave without my explicit permission.” The housekeeper grabbed my arm and dragged me up the stairs. From below, I could still hear his low, gentle voice comforting Mia. “Don’t worry. She’s just running her mouth. She’ll be back to normal in a few days.” Back to normal in a few days? I closed my eyes and let out a derisive scoff. In the past, no matter how hysterical I got, no matter how much I screamed, it was all just a desperate plea for him to look at me. This was the very first time I had ever said the word “divorce.” He didn’t even realize that the moment those words left my lips, something had shattered for good. It couldn’t be glued back together. Julian… we’re past the point of no return. When I woke up the next morning, my door was finally unlocked. As I walked downstairs, Mia immediately stood up. “Chloe! You’re awake! Let me get you some congee.” I glanced at the bowl. Bird’s nest congee. Again. Julian knew perfectly well that bird’s nest gave me severe hives. It made my skin itch and burn for an entire day. But for the past month, he ordered the kitchen to stew it daily to nourish Mia and her pregnancy. If I drank it, I suffered. If I refused, I was being a spoiled, picky brat. To prove that I was being “good,” I had forced it down my throat every day for a month. He hadn’t even noticed. His entire perception of whether I was being “crazy” or “good” relied entirely on whatever came out of Mia’s mouth. So it didn’t matter how much I tried to change, or how much anger I swallowed. It was useless. He was deaf to my words. He only heard hers. “I’m not eating it.” I pushed the bowl away. Mia looked at Julian with wide, helpless eyes. “Julian… Chloe is being difficult again…” “If she doesn’t want it, let her starve,” he said without looking up from his Wall Street Journal. “Sit down and eat your breakfast, Mia.” Mia didn’t sit. She picked the bowl back up and placed it in front of me again. “Chloe, please just have a few bites. Julian specifically asked the chef to make this for you. He noticed you haven’t been eating much lately and you’ve lost weight.” She held the porcelain spoon out to me. “It’s your own body. If you don’t care about your health, Julian will be so worried.” “I said I’m not eating it,” I snapped, impatiently swatting her hand away. The bowl hit the marble floor and shattered. Mia let out a startled shriek, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “Chloe… I didn’t mean to make you mad…” Julian threw his paper down and strode over, inspecting her hand for cuts. A second later, he grabbed the remaining half-bowl of congee from the counter, gripped my jaw with one hand, and forcefully poured the scalding liquid down my throat. He only let go after I was forced to swallow the last drop, slamming the empty bowl onto the counter. “From now on, you eat whatever the kitchen makes. If you throw another tantrum, I have a dozen ways to make you stay quiet.” I slumped over the table, coughing violently. And as I coughed, I started to laugh. I laughed at my own stupidity. I actually thought there was still something in this house worth fighting for. He turned and grabbed his suit jacket. “I have business dinners tonight. I’ll be back late.” He glanced back at me one last time, his jaw clenched. “Don’t act crazy again.” The front door clicked shut. Mia looked at me, shaking her head in mock pity. “Chloe, why do you do this to yourself? Bird’s nest is a luxury. If it weren’t for my… special condition, I wouldn’t even get to eat it.” I steadied myself on the edge of the table and stood up, looking at her with disdain. “So, when are you going to get him to sign the agreement?” She smiled sweetly. “What’s the rush, Chloe?” “The Vance and Sinclair families are hosting a joint gala the day after tomorrow. As Mrs. Vance, it would look very bad if you didn’t attend.” I let out a scoff. “I’m not even allowed at private family dinners. You think I have a seat at a high-society gala?” “Mia, drop the act. I’m exhausted just watching you perform.” Knowing about her ‘special condition,’ she clearly felt she didn’t need to maintain the innocent facade anymore. She sank comfortably into the plush sofa. “Alright, Chloe. Since we’re putting our cards on the table, I’ll be blunt. Did you really think playing the ‘I want a divorce’ card as a reverse-psychology trick would actually win him back?” “Everyone from the top to the bottom of the Vance estate calls me before they even think about calling you. What exactly do you have to fight me with?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’re so powerful, and you can’t even get a simple divorce paper signed, you have no business plotting a coup.” Her expression faltered. She clearly hadn’t expected me to call her bluff so aggressively. “If I don’t have that signed agreement in my hands by tomorrow,” I warned her, “I will ensure that neither you nor your bastard child ever get official recognition in this family.” “I will be a ‘crazy wife’ for the rest of my life. I will haunt him until the day I die.” “I might be a fallen heiress, but I am still the legal wife. You’ve been scheming for three years, and he has never once brought up divorcing me. Haven’t you figured it out yet?” I knew exactly where to strike. Her face instantly darkened. “And let’s take a step back. What if I agree to let Julian adopt a child to save my mental health… but I absolutely refuse to let it be yours?” “Julian has always felt insanely guilty about my infertility. Do you want to bet on whether or not he’d agree to my terms?” She didn’t say a word. For weeks, she had been dropping aggressive hints, practically begging me to discover her pregnancy so I would throw a massive, relationship-ending tantrum. A scandal like that would either end in divorce or leave my reputation completely shredded. But I knew the truth, and I hadn’t reacted at all. “Chloe,” she smiled, dropping the ‘sisterly’ honorific for the first time. “What exactly do you want?” “I already told you what I want.” I took a step back. “The choice is yours.” I turned and walked up the stairs. Half of what I said was a bluff to scare her. The other half was the absolute truth. If I couldn’t escape this hellhole, then I was going to make sure no one else found peace either. I was already labeled a “crazy woman.” I had no problem acting the part. By noon the next day, Mia placed the signed divorce agreement on the table in front of me. “Julian said that ending a toxic, draining marriage is for the best.” Looking at his bold, elegant signature on the dotted line, my chest tightened painfully. Once, we had loved each other so fiercely. I never thought our marriage would end via a proxy messenger. “Thank you.” I had just tucked the agreement into my purse when a familiar voice called out from the entryway. “Chloe!” My body went rigid. I turned my head. My teenage brother, Liam, was striding toward me in his high school uniform. “Liam? What are you doing here?” “Julian had Mia pick me up.” He shook a bottle of juice in his hand. “He said you missed me, and told me to stay over for a couple of days.” My throat closed up. Three years ago, my family’s company went bankrupt. The loan sharks were ruthless, and they hadn’t stopped hunting us since. I had kept Liam completely hidden for three years. I didn’t even put my name down as his emergency contact at school, terrified that the debt collectors would track him down. Julian promised me—swore to me—that he would never mention Liam to anyone. How did this happen… “Mia!” I couldn’t stop my voice from rising. “What the hell are you playing at?” Mia blinked, looking the picture of innocence. “Chloe, why are you yelling at me? Julian knows you hate large crowds, so he asked me to pick Liam up to attend the Vance-Sinclair gala in your place. I was just following orders.” “Absolutely not!” I forced my temper down. “You can go by yourself.” I grabbed Liam’s arm, ready to drag him out the door. Just then, the front door clicked open. Julian was home. His gaze swept over me and my brother, finally landing on Mia’s slightly reddened eyes. “What’s going on?” Mia shook her head sadly. “Chloe can’t attend the gala, but she won’t let Liam go either. I just don’t know how to explain her absence to the elders now.” Julian looked at me. “Sending Liam is for your own good. Since you won’t be there, having your brother represent you will remind people who Mrs. Vance actually is.” “Julian, are you out of your mind?! You know exactly what exposing him to the public means—” I bit my tongue, forcing the rest of the sentence back down. Liam was only seventeen. He thought his sister married a wonderful, protective man. He thought going to a gala was just a fun night out. No matter how miserable my reality was, I refused to let him see it. “Julian. We need to talk. Alone.” I kept my voice low. He didn’t even break his stride, heading straight for his study. “Talk to Mia.” “Julian!” I took a step after him. Mia instantly stepped in front of me, reciting the line I was so sickeningly tired of hearing. “Chloe, to avoid any unnecessary conflict, please just relay your message through me.” Again. He refused to speak a single word to me, even when I wasn’t being “crazy.” “Fine. I’ll tell you,” I said, glaring at Mia. “Liam is not going anywhere. If you so much as lay a finger on him, I will call the police.” Swallowing the bitter lump in my throat, I grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him out the door. In the car, I gave him strict instructions. “Liam, I’m transferring you to a different school as soon as possible. If Mia ever tries to pick you up again, do not get in her car.” He looked confused, but nodded. “Okay. I’ll listen to you, Chloe.” He looked at me, seeming to sense the unspoken tension. “Chloe… please take care of yourself. Just wait until I grow up. Once I make it big, I’ll protect you.” My nose stung. “I know you will.” I watched him safely walk through the school gates before turning my car around and driving out to the suburbs. The cemetery was incredibly quiet at night. My parents’ headstones stood side-by-side. I placed the flowers I bought on the ground and sat in the damp grass. “Mom. Dad.” I traced the engraved letters with my fingertips. “I think… I married the wrong man.” I fell asleep leaning against their headstones that night. The next day, I went back to the villa, packed my bags, and tried calling Liam. It went straight to voicemail. Panicking, I called his homeroom teacher. The teacher sounded confused. “Someone from your family picked him up yesterday afternoon. He took a leave of absence, saying he had to attend a formal family gala.” The teacher wouldn’t say anything else, but my blood ran cold. I instantly knew what had happened. I frantically dialed Julian’s number. Mia answered. “Chloe? Julian is busy right now. Is there a message you need me to relay?” “Where is Liam?!” “Him?” Mia laughed softly. “I went to pick him up yesterday evening, and he absolutely refused to come with me. So I told him, ‘If you don’t go, your sister is going to be a laughingstock in the Vance family.’ He got in the car like a good boy after that. I dropped him back at his dorm right after the gala ended. Why?” “The school said he never came back!” The line went silent for a split second, then Julian’s voice came through. “What’s going on?” I broke down crying. “Julian! Liam never made it back to school! You need to send your men to find him right now—” “Chloe.” He cut me off, his tone laced with cold annoyance. “Are you throwing another tantrum? Mia watched him walk through the school gates with her own eyes. How could he be missing? Are you really making up a kidnapping just because I didn’t let you go to a party?” “Julian, I swear to God I’m not making this up—” “Enough. You are seriously becoming a massive disappointment.” He hung up. When I tried calling back, his phone was turned off. At 7:00 PM, when they finally returned to the villa, I charged at them, ready to demand answers. But the police arrived at the door first. “We found Liam’s body in the river on the outskirts of town. He was kidnapped. The kidnappers demanded a ransom, but no one answered their calls, so they executed him.” “The remains were… incomplete. He was dismembered.” I stood there, listening to the officers deliver the news word by word. And then, I laughed. I laughed so hard I doubled over. I laughed until my face was entirely soaked with tears. Julian, his face ashen, muttered something to the officers, and they quietly left. Then he walked over and crouched down in front of me. “Chloe. Please don’t be like this.” “Julian.” I slowly raised my head to look at him. “This was you protecting my family? What exactly did you protect?” He froze. He couldn’t utter a single syllable. I stood up, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed the sharpest butcher knife from the block.

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I was the one who stayed by his side the longest. They said I was good at playing my cards. They said he would marry me. “Marriage? Is that even possible?” The lighter clicked between his fingers, patient as cruelty. “She’s just another schemer. Same as the rest.” That was the day after I risked my life to save him. I opened the hospital-room door. Under his watchful presence, I climbed onto the sill and stepped off—down through glass and air, down from the twenty-eighth floor—until the world ended. That was how I cut short a lifetime of loving under the control of a system. 1. Valentine’s Day. The subway was packed with commuters heading home, bodies pressed together like they shared a single pulse. Beside me, a stranger’s phone was open to an article about a summit. His name sat on the screen as though it belonged there. Ethan Brooks. Sometimes he felt impossibly far away. Other times he was so close I could almost touch him—close enough that when I walked into a grocery store, I filled my basket with everything he liked. “I’ll be home in ten minutes.” He didn’t answer. In the penthouse apartment in Manhattan, the door opened. The first thing I smelled was perfume that wasn’t mine. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your girlfriend?” The girl had already risen from the couch. She smoothed her dress into place with practiced grace. Her legs were long and pale—slim in the way only a girl barely twenty could be. “Girlfriend?” He stood half in shadow, his voice deliberately casual. “Do I have one?” Everyone in New York’s upper circles knew I’d been with him for ten years. “You’re so bad!” Our little dog recognized me first. Tail wagging, she rushed forward and pushed the door wide. Every eye in the room turned. The girl came running over and wrapped her arms around mine as if she belonged there. “Hey, sis. You’re home?” Willa Hayes was my cousin. Eighteen. Freshly accepted to New York University. She had grown up in rural Ohio, where her mother favored her son and punished Willa in silence for years. When Willa came of age, her mother signed permission for me to bring her to New York and care for her. I arranged temporary guardianship. I handled school. I managed medical authorization. I took on the daily weight of living. That was why we’d always called each other sisters. She called me Sis; I treated her like a younger sister instead of an ordinary cousin. “Look. Ethan gave me this.” She held up a designer bag. For all those years, I had never asked him for anything—not once. I never used what he gave me. As if refusing his gifts could prove I was different from all the women circling him. Eventually, he stopped offering. But when it came to giving someone else a present, he never hesitated. Of course. To him, what was the difference between a hundred thousand dollars and a million? And what was the real difference between me and all the rest? “Willa, go back to your room for a minute.” She obeyed, retreating slowly—only after a glance at Ethan Brooks, like she was checking whether the world would keep its shape. “You’re back?” He knew perfectly well I was. I walked in, set the groceries on the island, and let the quiet settle like dust. “It’s just a kid fooling around.” He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Her sweet, cloying perfume clung to him, completely at odds with mine. I turned my face away from his kiss. He let go. “If I really wanted her, I wouldn’t have to sneak around behind your back.” He soothed people only once—whenever they broke, when they cried, when they asked for something they weren’t supposed to want. If I didn’t take the exit he offered, then any fallout was supposed to land on me instead. I drew a breath that felt borrowed. “I’m asking you for one thing. Don’t touch her.” His expression stayed smooth. He lifted a hand and brushed the hair back from my temple. “You and your supervisor seem to be having a pretty good time.” “Why are you dragging him into this?” “He has you working late every day. Who knows what you’re really doing after hours?” I knocked his hand away. “Ethan Brooks, try being reasonable.” Willa burst out of the bedroom. “Sis, don’t fight with my brother because of me.” One corner of his mouth lifted as he leaned against the cabinets. “See? The kid has better sense than you do.” I pressed my lips together. I took my bag and headed for the door. He caught the strap. “That’s enough. You really think you’re something, don’t you?” “Ethan Brooks, you could find anyone. You chose my sister. She just graduated high school.” He scoffed, eyes lazy. “When you latched onto me, weren’t you about her age?” “She’s a lot prettier than you.” “Why is it fine when you do it—but not when she does?” Willa started crying. She came over helplessly and took my hand. “Sis.” I didn’t want her to hear anything uglier. I’d promised her mother I would take care of her. “Come on. We’ll stay somewhere else.” But Willa didn’t move. She lowered her head and stayed beside Ethan Brooks. “Willa Hayes?” “Sis.” She slipped behind him, her voice small. “You should go. Ethan will take care of me.” I stood there, stunned. She’d been here only half a month—barely more than a handful of meetings with him, and yet she was already learning the shape of the trap. “When your mother favored your brother and beat you, who stood up and took it for you?” Willa looked away, making herself unbearably pitiful. “When you were still a minor, who brought you here, dealt with your school and doctors, paid to get you through high school, and gave everything she had just to help you apply to college?” “You’ve known him for half a month,” I said, voice trembling with disbelief, “and now you’re telling me to leave?” “Willa Hayes, I’ve done so much for you. Do you have any conscience at all?” She tightened her brows. Tears shone in her eyes. “You chose to do all that. I never asked you to. Don’t guilt-trip me.” “And wasn’t your money all from Ethan anyway?” “From him?” I tipped my head back. “Ask him whether I’ve ever taken a cent from him.” “No, you’re too proud.” He laughed—mocking, light. “Then take your pathetic groceries and get out. Why are you still hanging around?” I didn’t dodge. I stared him down. “Ethan Brooks, do you really think I can never leave you?” He lifted one brow. “Can you?” Electric pain surged through me. The floor came up too fast, and I dropped as if my body had been unplugged. His laughter rang in my ears. “Putting on a show now?” 【Host awareness increased. Punishment initiated.】 The system spoke inside my head. I trembled and tried to get up, but my strength vanished into cold, and sweat broke across my skin. Why did I love someone like this? 【He’s rich, powerful, and handsome. He’s the best choice in the world.】 【For someone from your background, meeting him was a once-in-a-lifetime stroke of luck.】 But he treated women like toys. 【So what? He loves you.】 Dazed, I looked up. Beneath his high brow, his eyes were cold—utterly, perfectly without tenderness. He believed I was pretending. I asked the system what I had to do to complete the mission. 【There is no such thing as “completing the mission.”】 【This is a perfect life.】 【He’s only hurting you right now. Eventually he’ll realize he loves you.】 【You’ll be the happiest woman in the world.】 【You have no reason to be upset.】 The next second, darkness swallowed my vision. Just before I passed out, I saw something shift in his eyes—panic, maybe. The first hairline crack in his composure. So this was what “realizing he loved me” looked like. How ridiculous. I’d held on for ten years. For the first time, I wanted to die. Not for him. I wanted to drag the system controlling my body down with me. I was exhausted. 2. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in bed. He slumped on the sofa beside me, his face worn thin by sleeplessness. The moment I moved, he looked up. “You’re awake?” “Ethan Brooks.” I stared at him. The pain from the electric shock burned behind my ribs. Tears spilled the instant I tried to speak. He froze. I almost never allowed myself to look weak. He came over and pulled me into his arms. “There’s nothing between me and her.” “She isn’t my type at all.” His thumb wiped away my tears like it was routine. “I was just angry.” “Why would you rather ask your supervisor for help than come to me?” “Lily Carter,” he said, as if the name itself was the answer. “Am I really that impossible to rely on?” So that was what he cared about. When Willa applied for portfolio tutoring at an art school, my supervisor had found the connection for her. I could have gone to Ethan. A single phone call—nothing more. But I didn’t want to. At the time, I’d been doing everything I could to keep our relationship uncomplicated. Civil. Quiet. Almost harmless. “I can pay him back.” I pulled his hand down. “I can’t pay you back.” “When have I ever refused to help you?” “How long can you keep helping me?” How long would he stay with me? We both knew the truth. I’d never held the power in this relationship. He went silent for a long time. “That’s why you pretended to faint?” I laughed—because something reckless rose in me. A reckless feeling, as if I’d finally stopped asking permission to breathe. “Yes. I want to marry you. Is that too much to ask?” Ethan’s gaze darkened. He had clearly already decided what I meant to him. “I’ve given you everything I can.” “Lily, don’t get greedy.” The door was open a crack. I knew Willa Hayes had been listening. 3. For the next month, Ethan Brooks never came looking for me. Willa moved out, saying she was registering for school and living in the dorms. But I knew Ethan had bought her a high-rise apartment near campus. Then, on my birthday, he called. “What do you want for your birthday?” I was packing. I cleared the last pieces of my life out of the Manhattan penthouse. There really wasn’t much—only two suitcases. My eyes felt empty, but my voice stayed gentle. “I don’t want anything.” “Can you spend the day with me?” Silence on the other end. I heard people talking in the background. He was on a business trip in Europe—the place he’d once promised to take me. “I can’t make it back. Be good and wait until I’m done.” I hung up and kept moving. That night, Willa flew to Europe alone to find him. Ethan was furious—furious she’d acted without thinking, like a disobedient child. But she told him she’d missed him. He let her stay in his hotel. The next day, he canceled every engagement and took her skiing. She’d never skied before. She was fearless in the worst way. Ethan taught her a few basics, and Willa insisted on an advanced run. The accident arrived on schedule. Ethan nearly got hit saving her. Willa reached for him instinctively—caught an edge, and scraped herself badly. She was taken to the hospital. I stood in the hallway of the European hospital near the ski resort when Jason Cole—Ethan’s friend—told me what happened. “Guess what the first thing she said was when she woke up?” I didn’t answer. “She started sobbing. The first thing she said to Ethan was, ‘How could you do that? I was so scared it would be you who got hurt!’” Our reflections hovered in the glass window. “That was the first time I saw Ethan moved by someone.” “What man could resist that?” “Lily,” Jason said, then nodded and left us alone. “You promised me,” I said without looking at him. “You wouldn’t fall for her.” Ethan’s voice was flat. “Do you know the difference between you and her?” “She never says things like that to me.” “She only loves me for who I am.” “Lily, why can’t you be more like her?” He expected me to make a scene. At least, that was what he’d come to believe about me—based on the version of me he used to see. But I didn’t. I only smiled. “So you’re breaking up with me?” “How much do you want?” he asked. I looked up at him. There wasn’t a ripple of emotion in his eyes—like this was just another transaction. “I want a lot. A whole lot of money.” I gave him exactly what he wanted to hear. “Give me everything you own.” His brows finally tightened. At last, I got a reaction. Amusement touched his eyes, then sharpened. “Do you deserve that?” “She was willing to die for me. Would you do the same?” 4. Before we returned to New York, Jason arranged a get-together and invited me. It was at a private Manhattan club. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed Central Park like a painting hung in the dark. Neon lights tangled across the blue-black night. Ethan arrived late. The second he walked in, people stood to greet him—like gravity had shifted. Willa followed at his heels. Her injury had healed in three days. People kept sneaking looks in my direction, but Ethan didn’t glance at me once. The click of poker chips started up again. Willa’s hair fell black to her waist. She barely knew how to play. Ethan smiled and taught her patiently. When he leaned close, one hand rested on the back of her walnut chair—sometimes her hair brushed his knuckles as if it were being guided by fate. “A new favorite?” I was stepping out to breathe on the terrace when I heard women chatting beside the window. “After all these years, he must be tired of her.” “I thought she was clever enough to get a ring by now.” “He used to dote on her. Now he’s doing the same thing with someone else. Maybe he never loved her that much.” I pulled my coat closer and turned. Willa was standing there, innocent as a picture, playing with Ethan’s lighter—wearing the expression of someone who had never been afraid of consequences. “Sis,” she said, smiling as if she were sharing a secret. “Does it bother you that I took him from you?” I went back for my bag. I meant to leave. Jason stepped into my path. “Don’t go. We’re just getting started.” He spoke to me, but his eyes measured Ethan. Ethan glanced lazily at Jason’s hand around my wrist. “There’s no room for her.” “Sure there is.” Jason stood and offered me his chair. “Let’s make it interesting.” His hand still held my wrist. “If I win,” he said, “how about you let me have Lily Carter for the night?” Ethan’s fingers paused. Then, without hesitation, he didn’t refuse. I sat down. Ethan didn’t join the game. Willa remained in his seat. This time, he didn’t teach her anything. He only watched in silence. Of course, I won. But Willa wore the expression of a victor anyway—like she’d been certain all along that her turn would come. Jason picked up his sports-car keys and took me away. We hadn’t even crossed the Brooklyn Bridge when another luxury car forced us to stop. Ethan sat alone inside, eyes empty—patiently waiting for me to step out of another man’s life and into his reach. I didn’t get out. “Leaving in such a hurry?” He opened his car door and tossed a bag at Jason. “She forgot her bag.” I watched him calmly. “Thanks. Anything else?” His gaze shifted to me. Clearly, there was nothing else. I started rolling up the window. He reached in, opened the door, and dragged me out roughly. “Ethan!” A car raced past behind us, drowning half of Jason’s shout. Ethan shot a look at the sound, and Jason fell silent. “You left with your next prospect before you got paid? Is that what I taught you?” He hadn’t finished speaking when screams rose behind us. 【Event triggered.】 The system sounded. In the distance, I saw someone holding a gun. My body moved without permission—stepping in front of Ethan as if it had always been meant to protect him. 【Congratulations, Host. Tragic-romance storyline completed.】 The bullet entered my body. For a moment, I felt almost nothing. The impact knocked me against Ethan. He caught me in a daze. Police sirens wailed around us. Officers sealed off the intersection and told everyone present to stay for questioning. Hospital security logged my injuries, the witnesses, the chaos—under their internal security-incident procedure. The formal shooting report and investigation belonged to the police. Jason shouted my name. Bystanders cried out anxiously. There were so many voices. But his was the only one missing. Ethan simply held me—rooted to the spot—as if the bullet had struck him instead. If he didn’t move, none of it could be real. 5. I didn’t die. After the police completed their scene examination and the shooting report was filed, hospital security recorded my injuries and witness information under the internal security-incident procedure. Only after officers confirmed the area was safe did the doctors take me into surgery. Luckily, the bullet passed through my shoulder. I woke to an argument outside my room. “She pulled a stunt like this to force me to marry her, didn’t she?” Ethan’s voice was low—impossible to read. “What are you talking about?” Jason asked, glaring at him. “What are the odds she just happened to be caught in a shooting?” “Willa just saved my life. Is she playing the same game now?” “Did somebody put that idea in your head?” Jason asked, “Willa Hayes?” “Leave her out of it. She has nothing to do with this.” “You believe that?” Jason stood and pointed toward my room. “She’s lying in there because she saved you—and you’re saying this?” “Why are you so worked up?” Ethan laughed, and there was no concern in it. “I’ll give her to you.” Jason swung his fist into Ethan’s face. Ethan didn’t dodge. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and he didn’t care. “She wouldn’t die for me.” “I know her too well.” “From the day she met me, she came close with an agenda.” “Marriage? Is that even possible?” The lighter clicked again between his fingers. “She’s just another schemer, same as the rest.” 【Wonderful, Host.】 The mechanical voice invaded my skull. 【When he comes in, he’ll discover that you’re pregnant.】 【He’ll soften and realize how good you are.】 【You’ll be angry for a while, but you’ll forgive him soon!】 【Go welcome your sweet romance!】 Great. Could I have one minute of control over my own body? 【Of course. You’re happy too, aren’t you?】 I got out of bed and opened the hospital-room door. Both men looked toward me. Behind Ethan, the window stood wide open. The hospital building was old, and the rooms still had older windows—ones that could be opened. They were supposed to have limiters and regular security checks. But that window’s limiter had been broken for a long time. The night patrol had missed it. The city glittered far below, twenty-eight floors down. “Ethan Brooks.” I walked toward him. My voice was gentle. “You were right. I am a schemer.” “For ten years, I’ve loved your money and nothing else.” “I could never compete with her.” He frowned and tried to cut me off. “Go lie back down—” I smiled at him. “So you and Willa Hayes can be happy together.” It was only a few steps. Neither man was ready. Under Ethan’s eyes, I climbed onto the sill and jumped from the twenty-eighth floor.

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Three years into my affair, my marriage was running smoother than it ever had. When I wasn’t home, my wife never checked in on me. I could leave my phone on the kitchen counter, and she wouldn’t glance at it. If I came in late, she even left the porch light on. My friends were genuinely envious. “Man, your wife is so low-maintenance.” I thought so too. She knew about the woman on the side. I knew that she knew. Neither of us ever said a word about it. I honestly believed this was the most comfortable equilibrium a mature marriage could reach. Until one morning, when she slid a divorce agreement right beneath my coffee mug. “The house and custody go to you. I’m walking away with nothing.” I couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto my face. “Because of her?” Lily shook her head. “This has nothing to do with her.” “It’s just that recently, I met someone I really like too.” In that split second, the coffee in my hand turned to lead. 01 My very first reaction wasn’t anger. It was relief. A bizarre, weightless feeling of finally no longer being indebted to her. For three years, Lily had never picked a fight with me. But sometimes, just having her ladle a bowl of soup for me made my skin prickle with guilt. I would have to take it, swallow a few sips, and scramble for some compliment to pay her. Otherwise, I looked like an absolute bastard. Now, though, the playing field was level. Neither of us was clean. Neither of us had to keep up the saintly act. I moved the coffee mug aside, slid the papers out, and before even flipping through them, I chuckled. “You should’ve told me sooner.” Lily was at the island, pressing a fresh label onto Henry’s water bottle. The old label had curled at the edges from too many runs through the dishwasher. She peeled it off and smoothed down a crisp new one. I went on, “I’m not mocking you. We’ve been married eleven years. We know each other inside out. Honestly, I’m glad you’re being straight with me. There were plenty of things we couldn’t say before. Now we can actually talk.” She slipped the bottle into the side pocket of his backpack. “What do you want to talk about?” Her calm made me relax even more. At least she wasn’t crying, and she wasn’t pointing a finger in my face to drag up old dirt. I leaned in a little closer. “At our age, finding someone you actually connect with isn’t easy. I get it. And you get me. There’s no reason to blow up our home over this.” By the time the words left my mouth, I had already convinced myself this wasn’t a bad thing. When I was the only one with someone outside, I carried a quiet deficit toward this household. Now that we both had our own outlets, we could still come home, co-parent our son, share peaceful dinners. Wouldn’t that be far fairer? Lily finally set the backpack down. “Read the agreement first.” “What’s there to read? I heard what you said, and I didn’t lose my temper. My point is, since we’re both—” “I know what your point is,” she cut in. “I just don’t want to live like this anymore. Look it over, see what needs adjusting, and then we’ll talk.” She turned the document to the final page. Her signature was already inked neatly on the line. Next to it was today’s date. That was when I noticed she had even left a pen beside the stack. This wasn’t a sudden whim. From the moment I woke up, brushed my teeth, and sat down at the table, I had assumed today was identical to every other ordinary morning. She, however, had known all along what was supposed to happen the second I finished this cup of coffee. An uneasy itch began creeping up my throat. Not because of the other man. At least, not yet. “What about our son?” “Henry stays with you.” “I see that on the paper. What I’m asking is, have you thought about how you’re going to break it to him? You just write down ‘stays with the father’ and figure your job is done?” Lily slid another sheet across the marble. “I’ll wire fixed child support on the first of every month. Any major medical or extracurricular expenses, we split after discussing. Visitation hours are outlined right there. You can check.” I didn’t touch it. Those clean, clinical arrangements grated on my nerves. We were talking about our family, yet she had dismantled every thread of our shared life into discrete, itemized line items. I pulled out my phone, intending to text my assistant to push back my morning meetings. Right then, a banner popped up from Sabrina. You awake yet? Picked up breakfast for you. Don’t go drinking coffee on an empty stomach again. Instinctively, I flipped my phone face down. Lily saw it. She didn’t utter a word. My face, however, flared hot. Here I was, lecturing her on mutual understanding, yet I didn’t even have the nerve to let her see a simple morning text. 02 Henry padded out of his bedroom, his navy school uniform jacket draped over one forearm. “Mom, Mrs. Gable posted on the parent portal again. She needs that family activity photo uploaded today.” Lily told him gently, “The photos are on your dad’s phone. From now on, take school reminders directly to your dad.” Henry was chewing on a piece of toast. Hearing that, his face crumpled. “Why Dad again? He always forgets everything. Like the school field day—everyone else had picnic blankets and lawn chairs, and I was the only one sitting on the grass.” Irritated, I snapped a napkin from the holder and tossed it toward him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” As soon as the words slipped out, I felt petty. I hadn’t forgotten the blanket on purpose. Lily had been out of town on a three-day business trip back then. She had emailed me the packing checklist, and I had forwarded it to my assistant to order everything. My assistant missed a line. When Lily came back, she had quietly handled the fallout, and I never gave it another thought. Hearing my son hold it against me now, my knee-jerk reaction was to offer Lily an excuse. Instead, she walked over to the entryway and pulled her shoes from the rack. Suddenly, I looked at Henry. “If Mom and Dad didn’t live under the same roof anymore, who would you want to live with?” Lily’s fingers paused on her laces. Henry glanced at her, then back at me. “Are you guys fighting?” “No. Dad’s just asking.” He made his choice in a heartbeat, without the slightest hesitation. “With Dad. Dad lets me play on the console, and Mom’s always saying I can’t have fried chicken for dinner.” Those words couldn’t have been easy for Lily to hear. Yet she didn’t look wounded, nor did she press him on whether he meant it. She tied her sneakers and reminded him to finish his breakfast. Henry seemed to sense he had said the wrong thing. He held his half-eaten toast, timidly offering, “Mom can still come visit me, right?” I stared at Lily. “You hear that?” She unclipped her house key from her ring and laid it flat on the entry console. “I heard him. So don’t ask him a second time.” I stood up. “If you’ve got an issue, take it out on me. Don’t be spiteful to a kid. How old is he? What does he understand?” “You’re the one who asked him first.” Her retort backed me into a corner. I hadn’t weaponized the boy on purpose. I simply wanted her to grasp that a divorce wasn’t something resolved by two signatures on a piece of paper. Henry still had years of school ahead of him. Middle school was around the corner. Should we move closer to the district? Which school program should he enroll in? Did any of that not require her? Yet as those arguments gathered on the tip of my tongue, I realized they all sounded like admissions of helplessness—like proof that the moment she walked out, I wouldn’t be able to keep our life afloat. I shifted tactics. “You have to give me some time. Everything was fine yesterday, and today you drop divorce papers on me. Who processes that overnight?” Lily replied evenly, “Take your time with the agreement. I’m moving out next Monday.” She pulled the front door open and called for Henry. As our son swung his backpack over his shoulders, he remembered something, darted back, and caught my arm, his eyes wide with hope. “Dad, can you drop me off today?” I checked my watch. Eight-twenty. Driving him to school and heading into downtown would guarantee I missed the start of the executive sync. “Let Mom take you today. Dad has work.” Henry’s lower lip immediately pushed out into a pout. Lily didn’t jump in, nor did she smooth things over for me the way she used to. She merely stood outside the threshold, waiting. A sudden wave of irritation flared in my chest. I snatched my car keys off the tray. “Fine. I’ll drive.” In the elevator, Henry was still buzzing because I had agreed to drive him, asking if we could swing by GameStop tonight for a new cartridge. I said yes. When the elevator hit the ground floor, Lily stepped out without glancing back to remind me not to make empty promises. She always used to do that. Back then, I thought she took a child far too seriously. Now that she had let go, I felt like a man who had made a fool of himself in front of an audience of one. 03 By the time I pulled into the office parking garage after dropping Henry off, the meeting had already started. I slipped into the conference room several minutes late. When the meeting wrapped up, Sabrina was already waiting in my office. She had laid out artisan pastries and cold brew on the coffee table. The moment I walked in, she pouted about why I hadn’t answered her texts. “Lily wants a divorce.” Her hands froze as she set down the coffee cup. It took her several seconds to lower it completely to the table. “She found out? Did your parents say something to her? Or did someone drag our business into her face—” “She’s known all along. But that’s not why. She said she met someone she likes.” The office went dead silent. I had no idea what was running through Sabrina’s mind, but my own thoughts spiraled backward. When had Lily first known about Sabrina and me? Was it those long weekends when I claimed to be on out-of-town client trips? Or had Sabrina left an earring or a lip gloss in my car? Sabrina’s sharp laugh broke my trance. “And you actually believe her?” I was wondering whether I should. On the drive from Henry’s school to the office, Lily’s expression had replayed in my head like a loop of film. She hadn’t looked like she was trying to get a rise out of me. Yet if she wasn’t just trying to hurt me, why surrender the house? Our place in the suburbs was worth easily a million and a half. And this was a woman who routinely waited for seasonal sales just to buy running shoes. I unlocked my phone, opened the photo I had snapped of the agreement, and scanned the asset division clause again. Sabrina leaned over my shoulder, skimming the screen. “That proves it. When a woman claims she doesn’t want a dime, nine times out of ten she’s holding out for a bigger payout.” She sounded entirely confident. I used to love that about her. Whenever a problem arose, Lily would weigh every practical constraint, while Sabrina delivered swift, effortless conclusions that took the burden off my shoulders. I dialed Lily’s number and hit speakerphone. I wanted a third party in the room. When it had just been Lily and me this morning, I kept feeling as though she was pulling all the strings. The line clicked open, and I kept my tone as neutral as possible. “The asset division in the contract—I don’t agree to it. We can put the house on the market and split the equity down the middle. Whatever you’re legally entitled to, I’m not shortchanging you.” Sabrina touched my forearm from behind, but I brushed her off. Over the receiver came the rhythmic whir of an office laser printer. Lily was clearly already at her firm. “Fine. Have your lawyer draft the amendment and send it over.” The rebuttal I had rehearsed died in my throat. I switched off the speakerphone and stepped toward the floor-to-ceiling glass. “You’re not even going to ask why I’m willing to give you half?” “It’s marital property. It’s not a gift from you.” My blood simmered. “Fine. Let’s set the money aside for a second. Who is this guy? What does he do? Does he even know you’re married with an eight-year-old?” She didn’t answer right away. I seized the opening, pouring out the arguments I had polished during my commute. “I’m not against you seeing people, but you can’t mistake a guy being sweet to you for a couple of weeks for the real world. A man sleeping with you or entertaining you on weekends is entirely different from a man willing to build a life with you. Especially when you have Henry.” “Henry is staying with you.” That line again. It felt like she was lying in wait for me to bring up our son. I swallowed my temper. “So because he doesn’t want a kid, you just throw Henry away? Lily, you were never this selfish.” “Leaving Henry with you was my decision. Don’t pin it on anyone else.” I still couldn’t let it go. “Does he have kids of his own? Has he ever raised one? Of course he treats you like a queen when he doesn’t have to carry a single ounce of real responsibility.” Lily’s reply was clipped and steady. “He’s divorced. No children. And Sean, even if I hadn’t met him, I was never going to continue raising Henry alone.” That was the first time she had offered any detail about him. I thought knowing something would take the edge off. It did the exact opposite. He had his own history, his own independent life, and now he was stepping in to take my wife. The humiliation dug deep. “What’s his name?” I demanded. “Lucas Hayes.” I rolled the name over in my head. A total blank. Not a corporate client I entertained, not a colleague she had ever mentioned, not someone in our mutual social circle. A stranger stung worse than an acquaintance. Where the hell had she met him? What did they talk about late at night? Every evening when I came home to find her sitting on the sectional, had his name been glowing on her phone screen all along? “How far have you two gone?” My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached. Minutes ago, I had told myself that if she was guilty too, my conscience would be cleared. Yet now that we were on the brink of the answer, I terrified myself by realizing I couldn’t bear to hear it. I wanted her to admit fault. I also couldn’t stomach the reality of her actually having crossed the line. Lily didn’t answer. In the background, someone called her name, saying the project prints were ready. She answered them, and when she spoke into the receiver again, her voice sounded distant. “I have a project meeting. Monday’s move-out stands. If you have time tonight, we can finalize the logistics for Henry.” The line went dead. Sabrina walked over and asked how it went. I didn’t answer. She handed me the cold brew, her tone noticeably lighter than before. “Honestly, this is great. If she’s seeing someone else, you don’t have to carry that ridiculous guilt around anymore. We can finally—” “Go back to your desk.” The smile vanished from her face. I knew it was harsh. In the past, I would have softened it by promising dinner later. Right now, I didn’t have the bandwidth. I opened my text history with Lily. Three months ago, while I was traveling on business, she had asked if I could fly home a day early. I texted back that work was tied up, and she replied with a simple, Okay. Right after that, she had sent a screenshot of a medical lab report. I had never replied. Scrolling down, last week she had mentioned she was busy on Saturday and asked me to take Henry in for his booster shot. I had agreed, then spontaneously booked a luxury boutique resort an hour outside the city with Sabrina for two nights. In the past, the thing I prized most about Lily was that she never audited my calendar. Now, staring at those cold lines of text, a sudden, burning question consumed me: every time I had stayed out, where the hell had she gone? I buzzed my assistant on the intercom. “Clear my afternoon calendar.” Sabrina was still hovering by the doorway. “Are you going to see her?” I dug my spare house key out of the desk drawer and grabbed my jacket. “I’m going home.” 04 I went home looking for evidence. A movie stub, an unfamiliar coffee mug, a man’s sweater left behind. If I found just one thing, I could shove the agreement back in her face and demand an explanation before we ever spoke of divorce. I knew it was pathetic. Yet during our conversation this morning, she had been far too composed. She was ready to walk out, ready to leave our son with me, ready to take an equitable split without a fight. I desperately needed to prove that she wasn’t standing on moral high ground. In the closet, half of her hangers were bare. In her nightstand drawer, there was only a residential lease agreement and two health screening summaries. The lease commenced last month. I snapped a picture of the address, then moved to the dresser. Her wedding band sat inside the velvet jewelry box, right beside the tiny hospital wristband Henry had worn when he was born. She hadn’t touched either of them. A sudden dread paralyzed me. Finding another man’s traces would tear me apart. Finding nothing would be worse. Because finding nothing meant she wasn’t leaving for another man. She simply couldn’t stand being in this house with me for one more day. That afternoon, I drove to the address on the lease. When Lily opened the door, there was no surprise in her eyes. The apartment was modest—a single bedroom, a living area dominated by a large drafting table covered in architectural elevations. On the windowsill sat a newly potted white jasmine plant. I used to complain that her houseplants cluttered our sunroom. Here, without a single trace of my belongings, her world looked strangely whole. “Where’s Lucas?” “He doesn’t live here.” I walked past her into the bedroom. A twin bed sat against the wall. The tight coil in my gut loosened a fraction. Lily didn’t block my path. She merely said, “When you’re done looking, please leave. If you need to come by in the future, give me advance notice.” That sentence reignited my fury. “You already rented a place behind my back, and you expect me not to ask questions? How long has this been going on?” “We met working on a project last fall. We started seeing each other privately in February.” It was May. I counted backward and immediately remembered February—the weekend she had asked if I could fly home early. “That hospital visit—” “A follow-up ultrasound for a breast nodule. The clinic required an accompanying adult. He drove me.” I lunged for that explanation like a lifeline. A woman feels vulnerable, her husband isn’t around, another man happens to step in. That was how these things happened. It didn’t necessarily mean deep affection; it was just a moment of gratitude, a temporary lapse of judgment. A sudden, generous wave of magnanimity washed over me. “The test was fine, right?” “Benign. I sent you the report.” I remembered the screenshot I had swiped away. “I was swamped that day. If you really needed me, you could have called a second time. Would I have ignored you?” Lily rolled up the blueprint on the table and slid it into a cardboard tube. “I did call you. You answered and said you were in a meeting, telling me not to make a mountain out of a molehill.” That weekend, I had been at a hillside spa resort. Sabrina had been lounging beside me in a plush terrycloth robe, browsing room service menus. When Lily’s call came in, Sabrina saw the caller ID, stayed silent, and rested her bare feet on my knees. I answered, listening to Lily say the imaging center wanted an immediate follow-up and suggested family accompany her. Sabrina flashed her phone screen at me, asking whether I preferred the French toast or the smoked salmon platter. I pointed to the salmon and spoke into the receiver: “I’m in a conference. Go get it checked, and let me know what the doctor says when you get home.” Lily hadn’t hung up right away. “Sean, I’m a little scared.” I remembered feeling a momentary pang back then. But Sabrina had already leaned in, wrapping her arms around my waist, waiting for me to disconnect. The spa getaway had been booked two weeks in advance. I had fought hard to carve out the weekend, driving three hours into wine country. Turning the car around then would have ruined the entire trip. Besides, checkups were rarely anything serious. So I had reassured Lily: “Don’t psych yourself out. If there’s an issue, the specialist will flag it. Hang up for now, I’ve got people waiting on me.” She had whispered, Okay. After I hung up, Sabrina asked if I had to head back. I muted the phone, set it on the nightstand, and pulled her in. “I’m not going anywhere. I promised you this weekend.” She smiled, leaning up to kiss my neck. Holding her, I had experienced a brief, passing discomfort. But that discomfort dissolved in minutes. The follow-up report Lily texted me later remained unread until we checked out on Sunday. By then, Sabrina was asking the front desk attendant to take our picture on the veranda. I swiped the notification away, stepped beside her, and slipped my arm around her waist. Now, standing in Lily’s bare apartment, I didn’t offer another excuse. I knew I had no ground to stand on. Yet after a long silence, the ugly question tore past my lips anyway. “Did you sleep with him?” Lily looked right into my eyes. “No. We kissed.” The words landed like a fist to the solar plexus. Whatever magnanimity I had scraped together vanished instantly. My mind locked onto those two words. I wanted to scream at her, but I knew I had zero standing. That lack of standing infuriated me more than picturing them together. I let out a bitter sneer. “Then you’re not exactly morally superior to me, are you?” “No,” she said evenly. “Starting something new before formally ending my marriage was wrong. I made a mistake.” She owned it. No excuses about loneliness, no attempt to use my three years of cheating as an offset. Yet her confession didn’t bring me the slightest relief. It left me even more raw. Because she added: “But staying with you? That, I can’t do.” That afternoon, I finally realized I had never wanted a fair playing field. If she admitted to being wrong, what I really wanted was for her mistake to be so filthy, so unforgivable, that shame would force her to stay by my side.

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1 I own a Polaroid camera. It has a strange power: it can capture a photo of whoever a person will be with ten years in the future. Teddy and I grew up together. We were classic childhood sweethearts. Ever since he learned to speak, he insisted he was going to marry me. At six years old, he stuffed all his allowance into my hands. “Val, my dad says a man has to give all his money to the girl he loves.” At sixteen, he stayed up all night compiling a complete set of math study guides for me. “Valerie, as your future partner, your math grades are my responsibility!” At eighteen, clutching a crumpled love letter, he confessed his feelings to me. “Val, I love you. I want to protect you for the rest of my life.” I smiled, took his letter, and we officially became a couple. From then until now, it has been exactly twenty-five years. Over our time together, I took fifteen Polaroid photos of him. In every single one of those fifteen developed prints, the person standing right beside him was me. In our seventh year of dating, while he was peeling shrimp for me at lunch, I snapped another photo on a whim. As the image slowly bled onto the white paper, my chest went cold. This time, the person standing next to him had changed. … I stared at the photograph, my mind completely blank. In all these years, across sixteen photos, this was the first time a third person had ever appeared. My fingers trembled as I crumpled the edge of the print, keeping it tightly hidden in my palm. I turned to look at Teddy. He was busy mixing my dipping sauce: two squeezed key limes, two spoonfuls of soy sauce, a dash of vinegar, and a pinch of sugar. He knew my exact taste. “Here, Val. Time to eat.” Teddy opened a pack of disposable gloves and gently pulled them onto my hands. Then, he adjusted a cushion behind my back to make sure I was sitting comfortably. Once he finished, he turned back to the counter to mix another bowl: one lime, two spoonfuls of chili oil, a heavy splash of vinegar, and a spoonful of minced garlic. I froze. Neither Teddy nor I liked spicy food. But my friend, Gemma, did. No wonder he had prepared such a massive portion of shrimp today. He had planned for her all along. He divided the peeled shrimp into two separate bowls: one for me, and one for her. I couldn’t recall when it had started, but lately, whenever Teddy got something for me, he would naturally get a duplicate for Gemma. Snacks, plushies, scarves, bracelets; it was always the same. “Val, I’m going to run out for a bit to drop these off for Gemma,” Teddy said. My hands stilled. “Right now? Why don’t you have lunch first?” “I can’t,” he replied without hesitation, picking up the insulated bag and heading for the door. “Gemma likes them hot. If I eat first, they’ll be cold by the time I get there. Go ahead and eat without me, I’ll be right back.” The door clicked shut. I sat in silence. Teddy had never said “I can’t” to me before. Since we were kids, he had always listened to me. Our friends used to tease him about being completely whipped, but he would just puff out his chest and laugh. “What do you guys know? Listening to your girl is the key to a happy life. Loving her is how a man succeeds!” But now, for Gemma, he had pushed back against me for the first time. The steam rose from the shrimp, the very meal I had begged for yesterday, but my appetite was completely gone. A sharp cramp bloomed in my abdomen. I pulled off the plastic gloves and curled up on the sofa. My phone buzzed. I unlocked it to see Gemma’s latest social media update. “Thanks to Teddy for the personal delivery service. You saved a starving girl today.” The post was barely a minute old, yet Teddy had already liked it and left a comment: “An absolute honor to be of service, Gem.” Tris. Gem. When had they become so familiar with each other? A wave of dread washed over me. I pulled the newly developed Polaroid from my pocket. On the paper, Teddy and Gemma were standing close, their shoulders pressed together, both wearing radiant, happy smiles. That afternoon, we had planned to go to the mall. Teddy’s car was idling at the curb. I opened the passenger door, only to find him looking over his shoulder toward the back seat, a bright smile on his face. Gemma was sitting in the back. Sensing my presence, they both looked up. “Val! You’re finally here,” Gemma said, leaning over my seat. I nodded quietly, my eyes falling on the new lavender lumbar support cushion resting behind her back. Purple was Gemma’s lucky color. “Is that new?” I asked. Teddy glanced at the cushion. “Yeah, Gemma mentioned her back was hurting last week, so I picked one up for her.” Gemma beamed. “Val, your boyfriend is incredibly thoughtful. I’m so jealous.” Teddy grinned. “Don’t be. Go find yourself a guy.” “Fine,” Gemma teased, leaning closer to his shoulder. “But you have to help me look. He has to be exactly like you.” They kept up a lively banter, and I found myself unable to utter a single word. The GPS indicated a left turn was coming up, but Teddy kept driving straight. “Teddy,” I spoke up. “You missed the turn.” They were too deep in conversation to hear me. I bit my lip and raised my voice. “Teddy!” The cabin went quiet. Teddy glanced at me. “Val? What’s wrong?” “You missed the turn.” He glanced down at the navigation screen. “Oh, I wasn’t paying attention.” “You’ve driven this road a thousand times and you still missed it? You’re hopeless, Teddy,” Gemma laughed. “Well, if you hadn’t been distracting me, I wouldn’t have missed it,” Teddy grumbled playfully, though his eyes remained warm. “Keep it down back there. Learn from Val, she never distracts me while I’m driving.” I felt a sudden pang in my chest. My mind drifted back to a summer afternoon years ago, right after Teddy got his driver’s license. He had taken me out for a drive, meticulously checking and tightening my seatbelt several times before starting the engine. Back then, he had looked at me with absolute seriousness. “Val, your safety is my top priority. Don’t talk to me while I’m driving. I can’t afford to get distracted.” Yet now, he chatted with Gemma without a second thought, completely forgetting his own rule, and completely forgetting my safety. As they started bickering again, a wave of nausea hit me. When we parked at the grocery store, Gemma looped her arm through mine as we walked inside. Teddy and I had a routine of doing weekly meal prep, stocking up on groceries every Sunday. Since it was the weekend, the store was packed. I crouched down near the seafood counter to pick out some fish. The water-filled plastic bags were heavy, and I struggled to lift them. I turned around to ask Teddy for help, but both he and Gemma had vanished. Clutching the heavy bags, I scanned the crowded aisles. I finally spotted them in the produce section. Gemma was holding two different types of chili peppers, and Teddy was standing beside her, actively searching his phone to see which one would go better with rice. A man who was highly sensitive to spicy food, my boyfriend, was standing there researching hot peppers for another woman, trying to figure out how to cook them to her liking. My fingers went numb. The sharp pain in my stomach returned, stronger this time, making my vision blur. The heavy bags slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The noise made them turn around, and they both rushed to my side. “Val! What’s wrong?” “Val, you look incredibly pale.” Teddy lifted me into his arms and carried me back to the car. He poured a cup of warm water from his flask and held it to my lips. Gemma looked frantic. “Is it your period? I get awful cramps during mine, and I look exactly like she does right now.” “No, her cycle isn’t until the end of the month,” Teddy replied automatically, before turning back to comfort her. “It was probably those raw oysters she wanted last night. It’s just a stomach bug.” He paused, looking at Gemma. “Do your periods usually hurt that much? Let me know if you need me to bring you anything next time.” Gemma smiled softly. “Thanks, Teddy.” When we got home, Teddy found some medication and made me take it. Then, he boiled some warm apple cider and brought a mug to my bedside. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Gemma. He set the mug down, glanced at the screen, and immediately walked toward the entryway to put on his shoes. “Are you going out?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Gemma’s period just started, and she asked me to drop some things off for her. Drink the cider while it’s warm, Val. I’ll be right back.” As his hand touched the doorknob, I called out to him. “Teddy.” “My stomach is really hurting. Can you please stay?” He hesitated for a second. “Val, she lives alone. She has no one else to rely on. Be good, okay? I’ll be right back.” She has no one to rely on, so you have to be her anchor. What about me? The pain in my abdomen flared again. I bit my lip, forcing the words out. “It takes over half an hour to drive to her place. A delivery service would get there faster than you. Teddy, are you just dropping things off, or do you just want to be with her?” Teddy’s brows drew together, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Val, why are you being like this? You were the one who told me she was going through a hard time after her parents’ divorce, and that I should look out for her. I’m just trying to be helpful. Can you please be a bit more reasonable and stop picking fights over nothing?” The blood in my veins seemed to turn to ice. For twenty-five years, he had promised me: “Valerie, whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” Yet now, when I begged him to stay, he told me to be reasonable. The front door slammed shut. He was gone. I grabbed my Polaroid camera and ran out after him. Teddy was already halfway down the stairs, his footsteps hurried. I stood in the dim stairwell, aimed the camera at his retreating back, and pressed the shutter. The sharp click felt like the sound of something breaking inside me. The camera spat out a blank white print. I clutched it tightly, waiting like a prisoner awaiting a final verdict, even though I already knew the answer. Suddenly, I felt a warm rush of fluid between my thighs. I reached down and pulled my hand back. It was covered in blood. My vision darkened, and the world faded into a blur of distant sirens, voices, and footsteps. When my consciousness finally returned, I was lying in a hospital bed. “You’re awake,” the attending doctor said, handing me an ultrasound report. Six weeks pregnant. Threatened miscarriage. I stared at the words, utterly stunned. “The situation doesn’t look great. Your levels are incredibly low,” the doctor explained gently. “Do you want to try and save the pregnancy? You should discuss it with your partner.” I gathered my strength, picked up my phone, and called Teddy. Three consecutive calls went unanswered. I sent him a text. No reply. With no other choice, I dialed Gemma’s number. After a few rings, she picked up. “Val? Hey, is everything okay?” “Gemma, is Teddy with you?” “Yeah, he is.” “Can you tell him—” Before I could finish, Teddy’s voice drifted through the receiver, warm and familiar. “Gem, I added a bit of ginger to the brown sugar tea. It’s better for your stomach. Drink it while it’s hot.” That tender, protective tone was once reserved entirely for me. He had been too busy to answer my calls because he was standing over a stove, making tea for another woman. A heavy weight settled in my chest. I hung up the phone and looked at the doctor. “Don’t save it. Please help me with the discharge papers.” It was three in the morning by the time I made it back to the apartment. Teddy wasn’t home. I checked my phone. No missed calls. Just a single text message from him sent at ten-thirty last night. “Let’s talk when I get home. Gemma is in a lot of pain, so I’m going to stay with her for a bit.” A bit had turned into the entire night. On our living room sofa sat three cushions, each representing our lucky colors. Teddy’s cushion sat right in the middle, wedged between mine and Gemma’s. It was the perfect metaphor for our relationship. I stood in the entryway, looking around the apartment. Suddenly, I noticed that almost everything in our home had accumulated in threes. Three pairs of slippers in the hallway, three towels in the bathroom, three toothbrushes by the sink, three mugs on the table. Even when he bought matching pajamas, he bought an extra set for her. It was as if he had already prepared this home for her arrival, in the very space where he had promised to love me forever. I felt a profound sense of exhaustion. I walked into the closet, pulled out my suitcase, and began to pack. A few seasonal clothes, some daily essentials, my camera, and my laptop. The rest of my belongings, I arranged to be shipped back to my parents’ house. As I reached down to zip the bag, a Polaroid print fell from my coat pocket, landing face-down on the floor. It was the photo I had taken of Teddy’s back last night. By now, the image would have fully developed. But I didn’t care about the verdict anymore. I left my keys on the counter, pulled my suitcase behind me, and walked out of the apartment. As the cab sped toward the airport, memories of Teddy flashed through my mind: the boy who had handed me his pocket money, the teenager who had stayed up to help me study, the young man who had promised me his forever. He had spent eighteen years getting close to me, seven years loving me, and a single night letting me go. At the terminal, I booked a flight to Monterey. A distance of thousands of miles would be enough to cut the ties of our past. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Teddy. “Val, I bought those cinnamon rolls you like from the bakery. They’re in the warming drawer. Make sure to eat them when you wake up.” He had gone back to the apartment. But he hadn’t even bother to check the bedroom. He had no idea I was gone. The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. I turned off my phone, stepped onto the jet bridge, and left everything behind.

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