1 My fiancé had a creditor. For the five years we dated, in the name of “paying her back,” he habitually transferred half of his project bonuses to her. The birthday gifts he prepared for me would become hers if she said she liked them. Even one phone call from her was enough for him to abandon me and leave in a rush. He said they had grown up together, practically sharing the same pants as kids. If he could help, he should. I believed him. Until the day we finally saved enough for the down payment on our future home. I couldn’t wait to go look at apartments with him. But I heard him say lightly, “Oh, the money in the card? I lent it to Nora.” “She recently found this collectible figure she wanted. Pretty worth it.” Only then did I realize that the debt he talked about would never be repaid. The last little bit of hope in me disappeared. I silently put the card back into my pocket. “Okay.” I didn’t want to marry him anymore. I wanted to try living without him. … “What’s wrong?” Theo Mercer placed a hand on my shoulder. “You know how careless she is with money. If I don’t help her out, she’d have starved on the street long ago.” When he said that, his eyes were full of indulgence. “When did you lend it to her?” He paused. “Yesterday.” Yesterday. Even though I had known the answer, hearing him say it still made my heart sting. I had stayed up through countless unbearable nights, revised endless proposals, and fought hard to win that project bonus. Just like that, he had given it away. Theo seemed to realize something and explained stiffly, “Nora said the figure was limited edition. She was anxious, so she came to me for money.” He pulled me closer, his tone carrying a little helplessness. “All right. We can buy a home anytime. Just wait a little longer.” Wait a little longer. When I asked him to go wedding dress shopping with me, he said wait a little longer. When I asked what theme we should use for the wedding, he said wait a little longer. But the moment Nora said she wanted to open a flower shop, he transferred half his project bonus to her. From renting the place to opening day, it took less than a month. A sour ache spread through my chest. I gently pushed him away. “Theo, I don’t want to wait anymore.” “Clara.” He withdrew the hand that had frozen midair and took off his jacket, setting it on the sofa. “Don’t make a scene. I worked all day, then helped Nora at the flower shop all afternoon. I’m tired.” He never hid things involving Nora. He knew that if he acted openly, I would have no reason to argue with him. My heart sank bit by bit. My eyes burned. For the first time, I asked him, “Fine. I won’t make a scene. Then how long am I supposed to wait?” Seeing his speechless expression, I pulled my mouth into a self-mocking smile. How could I ever receive a promise from someone who never intended to be responsible for it? “Enough.” He roughly ruffled my hair. The motion was no different from patting a pet. “Once her shop turns a profit this month, we’ll go look at apartments. Okay?” “I have work tomorrow. Sleep early.” With that, he stopped looking at me and walked into the bedroom. Again. To him, as long as tomorrow came, I would automatically stop being angry. I sat stiffly and picked up the gift box on the table. Inside was a tie. He had once said a black tie with a suit looked too heavy. I remembered it and carefully picked a navy one. I had placed it in the most visible spot. Full of expectation, I told him to come home early. He agreed. And I kept lying to myself as I waited. Waited until deep into the night. Waited until he still failed to remember today was our fifth anniversary. Waited until he casually told me he had given our savings to Nora. My eyes grew more and more sore. I threw the tie into the trash. Holding the edge of the table, I stood there for a long time before opening my notes app. Inside was a list of fifty things I wanted to do with him. Watch a movie together. Try a famous restaurant. Raise a cat. After five years, only three had been completed. Not break up. Eat three meals together. And share an umbrella. That day, it rained heavily. He rarely came to pick me up from work. With him was Nora in the passenger seat. When we got out, his umbrella tilted. Half my shoulder was soaked. He said he hadn’t noticed. I believed him. The living room was very quiet. For no reason, I let out a dry laugh. With trembling hands, I cleared the entire notes list. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted to be the one who left first. I slept in the guest room that night. The next morning, I was woken by unrestrained laughter coming from the living room. When I opened the bedroom door, I saw Theo naturally take Nora’s bag and place it on a chair. “Clara, you’re awake?” Nora smiled sweetly and pointed to the roses in the vase on the table. “These just arrived today. I brought you a few. There’s still dew on them.” I forced a smile. “Thanks.” When I walked into the bathroom, Theo followed. “She picked those especially for you.” My hand paused on the faucet. “Mm. I know.” He gave me a faint smile. “Are you still angry about yesterday? Clara, there’s really no need.” “Theo, I’m allergic to pollen.” He froze. When we were young, he had asked my friends and found out about my pollen allergy. Then he hand-folded nine hundred and ninety-nine paper roses to confess his feelings. With tears in his eyes, he said that when we got married, he would personally make me the largest bouquet. The person who heard it remembered. The person who made the promise forgot. From outside came Nora’s voice. “Theo, I bought porridge. Come eat while it’s hot.” Theo’s face looked bad, but he turned and answered her. “Coming.” I splashed water over my face again and again. When I came out, Nora was holding her phone. She giggled as she put a seafood bun she had bitten into into Theo’s bowl. “The seafood buns someone asked me to buy taste awful. Returning them to their owner.” Theo picked it up without any disgust. The germaphobia he always talked about was gone. Nora noticed me and quickly explained, “Clara, don’t misunderstand.” She walked over with a bright smile and held her phone in front of me. “I just posted a few videos of Theo loosening soil for the flowers. I didn’t expect them to blow up.” “People online say we look good together, so now I’m building the account.” The account avatar was a photo of her and Theo together. One hundred and eight videos. One hundred thousand followers. I had once opened an account too, trying to record my life with him. Theo was always impatient. “Can you be more mature? Stop putting everything online.” Later, the camera collected dust, and I set the account to private. When I got a new phone, the first thing I did was carefully save those videos of him. There were only a few. “This is all for marketing,” Nora said lightly. “He’s only useful for that much.” “Mm. I didn’t misunderstand.” My voice was calm. Theo frowned. “Enough. Stop filming.” He pushed the vase of roses farther away. Then he looked at me. “Nora bought breakfast. Want some?” I shook my head. “No. I have something to do.” He did not ask further. To him, that was already his greatest concession. In the past, this would have been my cue to take the step down. But this time, I didn’t want to. I put on my coat and left. I took a cab to the photography studio. For five years, every year, I booked a couples’ photoshoot in advance. I hoped to have more memories with him. But he was always tied up by countless trivial things. He could never make time. Book. Cancel. Book again the next year. Get stood up again. Until yesterday, when the studio called and asked me to cancel my membership card. When I entered the shop, the employee who greeted me smiled. “Miss Bennett, is your boyfriend still too busy to come this time?” Five years. Five bookings. Every time, I came alone. Her tone had gone from polite to openly contemptuous. I swallowed the ache in my chest and pretended not to hear it. “I’m here to cancel the membership.” She processed it quickly. At the end, she added politely, “The refund and vouchers have been returned to your original account.” “It’s just that the studio is renovating soon, and we’re afraid customer information might get mixed up.” “If your boyfriend isn’t busy someday, you can always come again.” I looked at the three thousand dollars that had been refunded. Five years. Complete and untouched. Not a cent less. “No.” When I walked out, Theo sent me a message. I’m going to the flower shop to help Nora. I won’t be home for dinner. I did not reply. My finger slid over the screen uncontrollably. Only then did I realize that most of the messages he sent me involved Nora. Last weekend, he said Nora had met a difficult customer and told me not to wait for him. The week before that, I asked him to go wedding dress shopping with me. He rarely agreed, but then left in a hurry because Nora called. My hands trembled so badly I stopped scrolling. At that moment, my best friend sent me a livestream link. “Clara, what did I say? Is Theo really with that childhood sweetheart of his?” As if possessed, I tapped in. Nora’s voice immediately came through. “Everyone who orders for Valentine’s Day can get an autographed photo of me and my boyfriend.” “Same-city express delivery. Discounts available for orders.” Beside her sat Theo, wrapping bouquets with an indulgent smile. I remembered how clumsy Theo used to be. When I dragged him to make bead art with me, he always kept a cold face and said he couldn’t do delicate work. Now, watching him expertly wrap bouquets in the livestream, I only found it funny. My best friend called. “Aren’t you two about to get married? Did you suddenly break up?” I gave a bitter laugh. “We’re not getting married.” She was silent for a long time. “Breaking up… might be a good thing.” She knew how much I had wanted to marry Theo. She also knew how I had survived these five years. After hanging up, I sent Theo a message. Come home early tonight. I have something to say. Just this once, I only ask you to come home early. Only then did I notice Theo had already sent a message. The status showed: typing… Then disappeared. In the end, he replied: Okay. When I got home, I packed my things. There were very few. Only a few pieces of clothing. Everything related to Theo, I left behind. After submitting my resignation and booking the nearest flight that night, I sat on the sofa and rubbed the bank card in my hand again and again. It was the one Theo had personally handed me when he first started working. He smiled and said, “When we save enough, we’ll get married and buy a home of our own.” Later, I got used to saving my own money into that card too. I thought if I waited a little longer, I would have a home with him. Later still, the balance in the card didn’t grow. It shrank. All transferred to Nora. Theo came home then. He carried large and small bags. For once, he did not break his promise. Before I could speak, Nora walked in behind him. “I’m exhausted. We were busy all day.” They were still wearing the couple outfits from the livestream. I froze. Then I heard Theo say, “Nora said she saw you in the livestream today.” “She was afraid you’d misunderstand, so she insisted on closing early to apologize.” Nora smiled. “Clara, I bought you steak especially. Theo and I both think this place is good. Try it.” I stood and walked closer. “Thanks.” “Don’t be so polite, Clara.” She pressed my shoulders and made me sit. Then she tried to take the bags from Theo’s hand. He avoided her. “I’ll do it.” Nora laughed and hooked her arm around his neck. “What, you look down on me?” I watched them quietly, like an outsider. Familiar packaging. This was the restaurant I had mentioned to Theo many times. He had always brushed it off. After setting out all the takeout, Theo pulled out a chair and sat across from me. “You said you wanted me home early. What is it?” Then he seemed to remember something. “Oh, right. I asked a coworker to check. He said housing prices have been unstable lately. We should wait until next year to buy the wedding apartment.” Beside him, Nora cut her steak and smiled. “By the way, I’ll pay back the money I borrowed from you at the end of the month.” “No need. It wasn’t much.” No need. He always answered like that. Once, when I couldn’t pay rent, I gently reminded him that Nora could repay a little. He snapped at me. “I grew up with her. Do you really expect her to pay me back over that little money?” In the end, I begged the landlord until my mouth went dry before he agreed to give me a few extra days. I still remembered the contempt in his eyes. “Can I really not pay it back? Clara won’t mind, right?” “What would she mind?” The meal instantly lost all taste. I put down my knife and fork. “Theo, actually, I do mind.” The smile on Nora’s face froze. Theo stood almost immediately and pulled me back into the bedroom. “You had to say that in front of Nora?” For the first time, I felt he was so unfamiliar. I pulled my hand free. “Half of the two hundred thousand you gave her was mine.” I said gave. Not lent. He heard it. His voice grew suppressed. “I was the one who lent it to her. You don’t need to be so passive-aggressive.” My tone was calm. “I’m not being passive-aggressive, Theo.” “It doesn’t matter whether you lent it voluntarily or whether she pays it back.” “But the part that belongs to me should be returned.” I took out the bank card and placed it on the table nearby. “You can keep this yourself from now on.” “Let’s not contact each other anymore.” He looked at me with unfamiliar eyes. “Just because I lent her money without telling you?” “Do you really need to make such a huge fuss?” I let out a dry laugh. How could I possibly break up just because of that? “I’m just really tired.” “Clara, when did you become like this?” He stared hard at my calm face. “Nora grew up with me. What’s wrong with helping her?” I interrupted softly. “You grew up with her. I didn’t.” “Theo, let’s end this here.” From outside came Nora’s wounded voice. “Theo, I borrowed money from my mom and transferred it to you.” “Please apologize to Clara for me. I won’t borrow money from you again.” Theo tugged his tie loose in irritation and pointed toward the door. “Clara, are you satisfied now?” He took out his phone and transferred the money to me. One hundred thousand. Five years. I looked at the screen and said nothing. He laughed from anger. “I never understood why my mom liked Nora but didn’t like you.” “Clara, you really should learn from Nora. Otherwise, with your personality…” He paused, then still chose to say it. “You’re honestly pretty annoying.” The first time I met his mother, she held Nora’s hand and smiled from ear to ear. She left me ignored to the side. More than once, she had said she wanted Nora to be her daughter-in-law. Back then, I respected her as an elder, listened silently, and never argued back. But I forgot. Just like me, Theo never argued back either. I was finally awake. “I will never learn from her in this lifetime.” “You’re impossible.” The door slammed shut. Soon, the sound of a car starting came from downstairs. I wiped the wet corners of my eyes, picked up my suitcase, and went downstairs. By the time I reached the airport, Nora had just posted something new. “Who says childhood sweethearts always lose to the girl who appears later? Some people should really stop being so jealous.” The attached photo showed Theo cooking noodles for her. His back had appeared in her social media many times. Always in vivid ways I had never seen. I liked the post. Then I removed Theo from the top of my chats. Blocked him. Muted him. Checked in. And boarded the plane.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “477072”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My cold-faced boss completely tore my new proposal to shreds. I was forced to stay late and rewrite the whole thing, making me miss my scheduled gaming session with the kid I had basically adopted online. By the time I finally booted up the game, I immediately heard the little boy sobbing through the headset. “Mommy, I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” My heart melted instantly. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s all my bastard boss’s fault for making me work overtime.” The crying on the other end stopped abruptly. “Do you want to switch to a new job, Mommy? My big brother’s company is super, super big.” The kid was an absolute angel, but he loved to brag. I was used to it and didn’t take it seriously at all. That is, until he actually took me to his house to meet his older brother. Standing inside a mega-mansion that easily spanned tens of thousands of square feet, my jaw dropped as I bumped right into my boss’s chest. The kid grabbed my boss by the hand. “Bro, this is the guardian Mommy I found for us. Hurry up and call her Mommy!” 01 The kid I adopted in my online game loved to act like a hotshot. I realized this the very first day we met. I was on a brutal ten-game losing streak, getting absolutely mopped across the floor by the enemy team in every single match. The more I lost, the more stubborn I got. The more stubborn I got, the more I wanted a comeback. And the more I wanted a comeback, the more I kept losing. It was a vicious cycle. By the time I was matched with the kid, I literally had a stress blister forming on my lip. “Hi there. I can carry this match, just stick close to me.” The voice on the headset was soft, squishy, and incredibly polite. I could tell right away he was super young. A laugh bubbled up in my chest, washing away half the toxic frustration from my losing streak. I keyed my mic. “Thanks a lot, then.” I figured anyone matched with a chronic loser like me couldn’t possibly be a high-tier player. But the moment the match started, the kid wiped out an entire enemy squad by himself. They respawned, and he killed them again. After dying three times in a row, the enemy team completely lost their minds and started spamming the global voice chat with curses. Filthy, unrestricted slurs were being hurled at a literal child. Since the kid was carrying me so hard, I obviously had to protect him. For every insult they threw, I fired ten back. I went so hard that I ended up getting reported and slapped with a three-day chat ban. Fuming, I ripped my headset off. A friend request popped up on my screen. It was the kid. “Hi, would you please be my Mommy?” I had heard of this trend in the gaming community. Older players acting as “guardians” and adopting younger players as their “cubs.” It actually suited someone like me perfectly. I was at that awkward age where everything felt like a grind, and I just wanted to latch onto a skilled player for an easy ride. But being unmarried and having someone call me “Mommy” felt incredibly embarrassing. “If you be my Mommy, I’ll gift you a full set of premium skins.” Wait. Was this kid actually a skilled player who also happened to be a massive whale? “Deal!” I typed back. I desperately hoped the kid’s promises were as legitimate as his gaming skills. But after waiting half the night, all I received was a photo. It was a picture of a blank piece of paper with two massive, crooked words scrawled in crayon. [ IOU ] Beneath it was a very earnestly written sentence. [ Owe Mommy skins. Will pay with my $10,000 allowance. ] He even misspelled allowance. It was honestly way too cute. I should have known better. What concept of money does a kid that age even have? Ten thousand dollars. Kids really do love to exaggerate. I turned around and gifted him a premium skin instead. Using one skin to hook a highly skilled gaming partner was a solid investment in my book. “No need for the money! Just carry me in the ranks, kiddo!” The boy stubbornly rejected the gift. “I do have money. My brother just put a parental lock on my payments, so it keeps saying transaction failed.” “Miss Summer… do you not want to be my Mommy anymore?” His last sentence cracked with a tiny, devastating sob. My left and right brain fought a brief war. Finding a wild, god-tier kid player was like finding a gorgeous stray kitten. If you hesitate, someone else snatches them up. And as much as I hated to admit it, my age probably put me somewhere between his older sister and his actual mother. Having him call me Mommy wasn’t exactly taking advantage of him. Seeing that I hadn’t replied, the boy started panicking. He flooded the chat with a barrage of crying cat emojis, sad dog memes, and dramatic pleading stickers. My heart caved. I had officially captured a wild gaming prodigy. “I accept, kiddo!” “Then you have to call me sweetie, Mommy.” “I accept, sweetie!” “Yay! Now my brother and I both have a Mommy! Nobody can ever bully us for being motherless kids again!” 02 The kid was incredibly disciplined with his time. His gaming schedule was strictly fixed from eight-thirty to nine-ten in the evening. After nine-ten, he had to brush his teeth, and by nine-thirty, he had to be in bed. We happily duo-queued like this for nearly two months. Until one cursed Monday, my cold-blooded, robotic boss absolutely ripped into me during the morning meeting. Silas Reed wore a face carved from ice. Displayed on his monitor was my proposal, the sixteenth revision I had submitted. “Summer, I heard you graduated from Penn?” I had already cursed out every male ancestor in his lineage inside my head, but I still raised my face and gave him a pathetic, submissive smile. “Yes, Mr. Reed. When you came back to campus as an outstanding alumni guest speaker, I even attended your lecture.” “Oh?” He flicked his eyes up at me, his tone growing even more acidic. “Did you save your professor’s life or something? Is that the only reason they let you graduate and enter the workforce?” “My requirements are not high. Since you listened to my lecture in college, why are you still failing to grasp my vision?” “Hmm? Do you have an issue with me, or an issue with the company?” Seeing me keep my head down in silence, he snapped his laptop shut and stood up. “I need another revision by today. If it still doesn’t hit the mark, go to HR and hand in your resignation.” He left me standing there, practically choking on my own rage. Did he actually give me any useful feedback? I had revised this trash proposal sixteen times simply because he kept saying “the vibe isn’t right”! I’m sorry for breathing, it’s all my fault, okay?! Fuming, I stood in the empty conference room and threw a full combo of shadowboxing punches at the air. After my little routine, my vision went black and I almost collapsed. Dammit. The morning meeting was so early I hadn’t even eaten breakfast. My blood sugar was crashing again. By the time I handed the seventeenth version to Silas, I was practically foaming at the mouth. I gave him a look that practically dared him to reject it, ready to pass out right there and make him deal with a medical emergency. The clock on the wall read eleven at night. Silas furrowed his brows, flipped through the entire document, and finally, reluctantly, nodded his head. As I walked out of the corporate lobby, my best friend Zoe was laughing at me over the phone. “Look at you, rolling in that overtime money with the big boss keeping you company.” Standing in the elevator, I finally let loose. “That bastard! Why is he making me do all this overtime? If he pushes me any further, I’m going to run over him with my car!” “Besides, he owns the entire company! He’s the one who’s supposed to be working late, not me…” Before I could finish, a hand reached out and blocked the elevator doors from closing. It was Silas. 03 I had no idea how much of my rant he had heard. Silas shot me a freezing glare, and the air pressure in the small space plummeted immediately. I shrank my neck down like a frightened turtle, not daring to breathe. Of course, this was the exact moment the sound leaking from my cheap earbuds decided to get louder. “Run him over! Run him over twice! But honestly, don’t you think your big boss has massive contrast appeal?” “He walks around with that cold, untouchable, celibate face, looking at everyone like they’re dirt. But that body is insane. His tailored suits can barely contain those massive pecs, hahaha…” Zoe’s wicked, unfiltered laughter echoed through the entire elevator. Silas’s face turned completely black. “I’m so sorry, boss. I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, so I listen to these trashy comedy podcasts to unwind. I’ll turn it off right now…” Before I could finish spinning my lie, Zoe’s voice got even louder. “Summer! Why aren’t you answering me?” “It’s so late, did something happen to you…” I squeezed my eyes shut. If my worst enemy saw me right now, they would probably forgive me out of pure pity. Thankfully, the call dropped due to the poor signal in the elevator. I awkwardly muttered an apology. “I’m sorry, boss.” Silas didn’t say a word. Suddenly, his large, distinctively sculpted hand reached out from behind me. I thought he was so mad he was actually going to hit me. Terrified, I crouched down so fast my unexercised joints cracked loudly. It turned out he just wanted to press the button for the basement parking garage. He looked down at me with a deep frown. I couldn’t even lift my head anymore. Right now, I just wanted someone to push the big red button and obliterate this entire planet. When the elevator stopped at the ground floor, I practically sprinted out. Silas spoke up, stopping me in my tracks. “Summer.” “This new version is acceptable. I hold you to a high standard because I know you have the potential to do better.” I forced a bitter smile. What else was there to say? Just smile and nod like the corporate drone I was. “Also, if your… mind is under that much pressure, you should visit a doctor tomorrow.” “Consider it a paid day off. It won’t affect your perfect attendance bonus.” “Be safe on your way home.” That last sentence was spoken incredibly softly. I half wondered if I was experiencing auditory hallucinations. But none of that mattered. A paid day off had just fallen directly into my lap! 04 By the time I texted Zoe that I was safe and got back to my apartment, it was already midnight. I had been dead tired earlier. But the thought of getting a free paid day off tomorrow made me feel like going to sleep now would be a massive waste of time. After tossing the idea around, I booted up the game. The kid should have been fast asleep by now. We had been playing together for so long, and this was my first time breaking our schedule. I sighed, figuring I would just apologize to him tomorrow. But the second I logged in, a team invite popped up from the kid’s profile. When I joined, his voice sounded thick and muffled, like he had been crying alone in the dark for hours. “Mommy, I thought you threw me away.” Hearing him cry made my chest ache. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s my bastard boss’s fault for making me work overtime.” “I just got home and it’s midnight. I didn’t think you’d still be waiting for me. Did I mess up your sleep schedule?” The crying stopped. “That boss is evil! How dare he treat you like that!” “Do you want to switch to a new job, Mommy? My big brother’s company is super, super big.” The kid was perfect, except for how much he loved to play pretend. I was used to it. Not wanting to hurt his pride, I patiently played along. “That sounds great, but we probably don’t even live in the same city. Finding a new apartment is such a hassle.” The boy scoffed entirely. “Why do you need to find a new apartment? My house has so many rooms. You can just pick a whole floor to live on.” I laughed out loud. “Pick a whole floor? Just how big is this house?” “Around ten thousand square feet, I think. I live on the second floor right now, and my brother lives on the third floor. The third floor is the biggest.” “If you come live with us, Mommy, I’ll kick my brother up to the fourth floor.” He really was just a kid. I wouldn’t even dare to dream of a ten-thousand-square-foot house, but he just spouted it effortlessly. “Hahaha, really? Won’t your brother beat you up for that?” “No way! You’re my Mommy, which means you’re my brother’s Mommy too!” “What city do you live in, Mommy?” “I’m in Boston.” “Mommy, I’m in Boston too!” His voice spiked with excitement, but my adrenaline was finally crashing. My eyelids felt like they were made of lead, and no amount of willpower was keeping them open. “Mommy, can I come find you to play?” “Sure thing.” I casually mumbled the name of my apartment complex and told him goodnight. The next day, I was completely dead to the world, buried under my blankets, when a call from the complex security guard woke me up. “Miss Summer, your son is waiting for you at the front gate.” “What son? You’ve got the wrong number.” I was just about to hang up when a familiar, soft voice echoed through the speaker. “Mommy! I came to find you!” 05 The heat outside was absolutely brutal. Walking out in flip-flops was easily the worst decision I had made all week. If I walked even slightly too fast, my heels hit the scorching pavement, making me wince in pain. My phone rang again. Assuming it was security, I answered immediately. “Hey, security man, just keep an eye on my son, I’ll be right there…” “Summer, regarding that proposal you submitted… You have a son? Your employee file clearly states you’re single.” Dead silence fell over both ends of the line. I pulled the phone away and looked at the screen. The caller ID read Silas Reed. Before I could even process this nightmare, another call came through. This time, it really was security. “Mr. Reed, I’m so sorry, I have an emergency right now. I’ll call you right back.” I had been working at the company for over a year, and this was the very first time I dared to hang up on Silas. Rumor had it a former employee once hung up on the big boss by mistake and got handed a severance package the next day. Wanting to cry but lacking the tears, I broke into a desperate sprint, figuring I’d deal with the kid first and then grovel to Silas later. “Hey! I’m almost there!” I yelled into the other line. “Alright, Miss Summer. We were just debating if we should walk the kid to your building.” By the time I reached the front gate, gasping for air, the soles of my feet were entirely numb. A little boy in a crisp button-down shirt and suspenders was sitting obediently inside the guardhouse. Mrs. Gable, the most aggressively nosy woman in the complex, had just returned from the grocery store. Seeing me, she immediately waved me over. “Oh my, Summer, I had no idea you had a son this old.” I gave an awkward laugh, completely unsure of how to explain the situation. I cautiously looked at the little boy and called out. “Sweetie?” The boy’s eyes lit up. He trotted over and grabbed my hand. “Mommy!” I let out a long breath. But when my eyes landed on his shirt, completely soaked through with sweat, my heart twisted with frustration and pity. “How did you get here all by yourself? You didn’t even tell me!” “Does your family know?” “What if you ran into a bad person on the way?” Mrs. Gable leaned in, her eyes gleaming with gossip. “I get it, Summer. The kid went with his dad in the divorce, right?” “No wonder none of the guys I tried to set you up with worked out. You were secretly married this whole time.” “I still have a few older bachelors in my contacts. They’re a bit up there in age, but at least they’ve never been married.” “A woman who’s been married and popped out a kid is just damaged goods, you know? You lose your value…” The kid wasn’t very old, but he was smart enough to recognize cruelty. His little face flushed bright red, and he shoved Mrs. Gable hard. “You’re a bad person! Don’t you dare talk about my Mommy like that!” Mrs. Gable stumbled backward, immediately flying into a rage. “Calling you damaged goods is a compliment! Who knows what stray dog fathered this little brat?” “Riding on your looks, you were probably some rich guy’s side piece. That’s why your baby daddy dumped you!” “Your mom is a tramp…” Her words were incredibly vile. If the kid hadn’t been standing right there, I would have thrown hands with her. I clamped one hand over the boy’s ears, scooped him up with my other arm, and marched straight into the complex. Mrs. Gable was still standing behind us, hands on her hips, screaming curses. The boy rested his head on my shoulder, his voice trembling on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, Mommy. Did I get you in trouble?” 06 I carried the kid over to the shade of a large oak tree. “No, baby, you were protecting me. How could that be getting me in trouble?” “That lady was just a nasty person.” “Sweetie, tell me the truth. How did you get here? Did you tell anyone at home?” The boy shook his head. A massive tear broke free and splattered against my collarbone. “Mommy, I… I took a taxi… My brother doesn’t know…” I hugged him tighter. “It’s okay, don’t cry. Let’s go get you something to eat, and then I’ll call your brother so he can take you home. How does that sound?” He looked reluctant, but he sniffled and nodded his head. I held his hand and walked him to the convenience store inside the complex. I grabbed a couple of hot dogs from the roller and picked out some warm skewers from the deli section. “Eat up. Let’s get something in your stomach first.” Worried that the blast of the AC on his sweaty clothes might make him sick, I specifically picked a table far from the vents. The kid took the hot dog from my hand, took a tiny bite, and his eyes went wide as saucers. “Mommy, this tastes amazing!” His reaction was so dramatic it was as if he had never eaten a hot dog in his entire life. I asked, half-joking, “Have you really never had a hot dog before?” The kid shook his head with absolute seriousness. “Your mom and dad, or your brother… they never bought you one? There are usually food carts all around schools.” “No, Mommy. My mom and dad are gone. It’s just me and my brother.” “My brother is always working to make money. He’s barely ever home.” The words died in my throat. I thought back to what he said in the game—”Now my brother and I both have a Mommy.” I had thought it was just a kid playing pretend, but it turned out to be a cruel joke from fate. I walked over to the cashier. “Wrap up all the hot dogs you have left on the roller.” “Mommy?” “Eat up!” I turned my back to him and quietly sniffled. So what if he bragged? If his life was that painful, wasn’t he allowed to tell a few lies to comfort himself? “Sweetie, do you know your brother’s phone number by heart? Let me call him so we can get you home.” “You don’t need to do that, Mommy,” the boy said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a high-tech smartwatch. “I’ll just call him myself.” The call connected quickly. He held his wrist up to his ear, and I could faintly hear the tone on the other end. It did not sound friendly. The kid had a lot of pride. Afraid I would hear, he intentionally walked over to the corner of the store. I stepped a little closer, just in time to hear the voice on the watch say, “Stop being a burden to other people.” My blood boiled. I marched right over. “He is not being a burden to anyone!” My voice was so loud the other end went completely dead silent. “I know it’s hard for you, working all the time to provide for yourself and your younger brother!” “You’re a great older brother, and he’s an incredibly well-behaved kid!” “But since you two only have each other, you need to show him some actual care and affection!” “I’ll send him home safely, so you don’t need to worry!” The other end remained silent for a long moment before finally replying. “Sorry for the trouble.” I couldn’t tell if it was the speaker quality, but the voice sounded almost shaky. I scoffed and gestured for the kid to end the call. The way the boy looked at me completely changed. Shock, awe, and starry-eyed admiration. “Mommy, you’re so cool!” Before I could even bask in the praise, my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen. It was Silas. Crap! My job! I had told my boss I’d call him right back, and I completely forgot!

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01 The moment the police stormed into the damp alley, the school’s untouchable bad boy, Zane, shoved the bloody metal pipe directly into my hands. He stared at me with absolute, arrogant entitlement. “You get straight As. The teachers love you. If you take the fall for this, you’ll get a suspension at worst.” “If I get arrested, my life is over.” A mechanical voice from the System shrieked frantically in my mind. “Host! If you help him right now, he will be absolutely devoted to you! In the future, when he becomes a billionaire, you will be his wealthy, beloved wife!” I glanced down at the innocent classmate bleeding out on the concrete, then calmly took a step to the side. Under Zane’s utterly bewildered gaze, I pointed right at him and yelled at the approaching cops. “Officers! He did it! His fingerprints are all over that weapon, and I have the entire assault recorded on my phone!” Zane froze in sheer disbelief. The two police officers moved with lightning speed. They lunged forward, twisted Zane’s arms behind his back, and slammed him hard against the brick wall. The crisp click of handcuffs echoing through the alley finally snapped Zane out of his shock. He struggled violently against their grip, turning his head to roar at me. “Kate, are you psycho?! I told you my family would make this go away! I just needed you to take the heat for a minute. How dare you set me up?!” I took two steps back, my tone dripping with unmistakable amusement. “Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t set you up. This is called fulfilling my civic duty to provide a truthful witness statement.” “Also, aggravated assault resulting in severe bodily harm carries a minimum sentence of three years. Not only did you beat someone half to death, but you also attempted to coerce a witness into taking the fall. That is a serious felony.” “I think you should spend less time worrying about my mental health and more time worrying about your own rap sheet.” I handed my phone directly to the female officer walking toward me and tapped play on the high-definition video I had just recorded. The footage perfectly captured every second of Zane swinging the steel pipe at the boy on the ground, ending with his desperate attempt to shove the weapon into my hands. The audio was crystal clear. The female officer took the phone and gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Good job, kid. You have excellent situational awareness.” Paramedics had already rushed in and were loading the heavily bleeding boy onto a stretcher. Before being shoved into the back of the police cruiser, Zane stared at me with eyes full of venom and disbelief. In his eighteen years of smooth-sailing, privileged existence, he had probably never encountered someone like me who refused to play along with his twisted rules. As the sirens wailed and the cruiser sped off, I adjusted my backpack and started walking home. Meanwhile, the System in my head was having a complete meltdown. I had accidentally bound to this plot-maintenance System a few days ago, learning that I was the designated female lead in a toxic, high school bad-boy romance novel. Right now, the System was emitting high-frequency screams that made my temples throb. “Are you insane?! That was Zane! He is the male lead of this universe! You just sent the male lead to jail! How is the plot supposed to progress now?!” “In the original storyline, you take the fall for him. Even though he acts tough, he is deeply moved by your sacrifice. From that moment on, he tones down his temper and secretly protects you!” “When he eventually inherits his family’s empire and becomes a billionaire, you would be his glamorous wife! You just single-handedly destroyed your perfect marriage!” I stopped walking and asked a very genuine question in my mind. “Does a billionaire’s wife not need to pass a background check?” The System’s screaming ground to a halt. “W-what?” I kept walking toward the bus stop, breaking down the logic for this artificially unintelligent voice. “According to your braindead plot, if I take the fall, I end up with a felony record.” “A person with an assault charge on their permanent record can’t pass the Bar exam, can’t get federal clearance, and would fail the background check at any top-tier corporate firm. My future would be completely destroyed.” “You want me to gamble my entire future on an emotionally unstable, violent felon with zero legal literacy, all on the off chance that he might miraculously grow a conscience and marry me someday?” I let out a cold laugh. “Do I look brain-dead to you? Why would I ever take a deal where I lose everything?” The System started crying in sheer panic. “But he really loves you! Later in the story, he’d give up his own life for you!” “A guy who can’t even follow basic laws? His love is worth less than the dog crap on the sidewalk.” I stepped onto the bus, scanned my transit card, and walked to a seat in the back. “Stop trying to brainwash me with those toxic romance tropes. I am here to study and succeed, not to rehabilitate a convict.” “If he wants to throw his life away, that is his business. Don’t drag me down with him.” The System’s entire purpose was to force me to follow the original plot and take the blame for Zane. In the novel, Zane was an arrogant rebel who had never been defied. The original Kate’s willingness to absorb his punishment struck a chord in his dark heart. He was supposed to gradually soften, protecting her from the shadows, eventually realizing she was his one true love compared to the manipulative girls constantly swarming him. But after hearing my flawless legal breakdown, the System fell completely silent. I pulled out my vocabulary flashcards and went back to memorizing advanced terms. There were only two hundred days left until the National Admissions Exam, and my goal was a top-tier Ivy League pre-law program. Wasting even one second looking at a piece of trash like him was an insult to my study schedule. Early the next morning, my homeroom teacher, Mr. Davis, called me into his office. When I pushed the door open, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting inside. She was dripping in haute couture, pinching a crocodile leather handbag, and looking down at me with absolute disdain. It was Zane’s mother, Mrs. Blackwood. Standing right next to her, rubbing her red, teary eyes, was a girl from my class. Perla. She was the class social chair and the designated secondary female lead of the novel. Outwardly, Perla played the role of a fragile, innocent angel, but inside she was deeply vain and selfish. She constantly strung Zane along, relishing the attention and power that came with having the school’s richest bully obsessed with her. In the original plot, she constantly started drama, played the victim, and secretly sabotaged me while keeping Zane firmly wrapped around her finger. I definitely didn’t expect her to team up with Zane’s mother to come after me. Mr. Davis looked incredibly uncomfortable. He pointed awkwardly at me. “Kate, Mrs. Blackwood wanted to speak with you about what happened yesterday.” Mrs. Blackwood didn’t even bother standing up. She simply pulled a check from her designer bag and slid it to the edge of the desk. “You are Kate, correct? I heard about the little misunderstanding.” “My Zane can be a bit hot-headed, but he has a good heart. He only got physical yesterday because he was protecting a classmate.” She lifted her chin, her tone dripping with unquestionable arrogance. “Here is fifty thousand dollars. All you need to do is go down to the precinct and change your statement. Tell them you looked at the video wrong, and that you accidentally pushed that boy. Do that, and this money is yours.” “Your family doesn’t have much. This is more than enough to cover your college tuition so you can graduate in peace.” I looked down at the check on the desk but didn’t move a muscle. Perla immediately stepped forward, tears spilling perfectly down her cheeks. “Kate, please just help Zane. That dropout from the vocational school came over to harass me yesterday. Zane only fought him to protect me!” “He is a hero! You can’t let a stupid mistake ruin his future!” “You get good grades. Even if you get a suspension, you can still get into a good college. But if Zane gets a criminal record, his father will kill him!” “We’re all classmates, how can you be so heartless?” I slowly turned my head and looked Perla up and down. “If he’s such a hero in your eyes, why don’t you go take the fall for him?” Perla choked on her words, stammering defensively. “I… I have bad health! If I got suspended, my parents wouldn’t be able to handle it. Besides, Zane said he only trusts you…” I watched her pathetic, theatrical display and raised an eyebrow. In the original timeline, Perla used this exact manipulative script to enjoy the ego boost of two guys fighting over her, while forcing the criminal consequences squarely onto my shoulders. Afterward, she spread rumors that I only took the blame because I was desperate for Zane’s money, completely ruining my reputation. I ignored her completely and turned back to Mrs. Blackwood. “Mrs. Blackwood, did you just say Zane has a good heart and is just a bit hot-headed?” Assuming I was giving in, Mrs. Blackwood nodded haughtily. “Exactly. Young people make impulsive mistakes. If you do this favor for him, the Blackwood family will owe you a very generous debt.” Without missing a beat, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tapped the play button on my voice memos. Mrs. Blackwood’s voice echoed crisply through the quiet office: “Here is fifty thousand dollars. All you need to do is go down to the precinct and change your statement…” Mrs. Blackwood’s face drained of color. She shot up from her chair. “What do you think you’re doing?!” I slipped the phone back into my pocket, my voice dead calm. “Nothing much. Just gathering some fresh material for the police.” “Mrs. Blackwood, what you just did is legally defined as witness tampering and obstruction of justice. Using bribes or threats to coerce a witness into committing perjury carries a sentence of up to three years in federal prison.” I met her furious, wide-eyed glare without taking a single step back. “Your son is facing charges for aggravated assault, and you are facing charges for witness tampering.” “What, is the Blackwood family planning to host your next family reunion in a penitentiary?” Mr. Davis panicked, jumping up from his desk and waving his hands wildly. “Kate, calm down! Don’t say things like that!” I shifted my gaze to him. “Mr. Davis, I am simply stating basic legal facts. I am a minor who was just subjected to financial bribery and perjury coercion by a student’s parent on school grounds. As a mandated reporter, if you fail to report this, you become an accessory to the crime.” Mr. Davis instantly shut his mouth, his face cycling between green and pale white. Trembling with rage, Mrs. Blackwood pointed a manicured finger right at my nose and screamed. “You ungrateful little bitch! Do you honestly think one audio recording is enough to bring down the Blackwood family?!” “Let me tell you something! In this city, I have ten thousand ways to make sure you never step foot in a classroom again!” I nodded approvingly. “Excellent. Threatening a minor. That is another piece of evidence for the pile.” “Mrs. Blackwood, keep your fifty thousand dollars and use it to hire a very good defense attorney for Zane. As for me changing my statement, keep dreaming.” Without sparing another glance at their horrified faces, I turned around, pulled the office door open, and walked straight out. The few students who had been eavesdropping outside scattered like frightened birds. In my head, the System was sighing heavily. “You’re doomed. You’re completely doomed! You just made a mortal enemy out of the male lead’s mother! The Blackwood family can bankrupt your family with a snap of their fingers!” I rolled my eyes internally. “We’re already broke. What exactly is there to bankrupt?” My family lived in a tiny, heavily mortgaged apartment, and my parents were honest, hardworking factory workers. No matter how rich the Blackwoods were, what were they going to do? Buy the factory just to fire my parents? The working class fears nothing. Despite his family’s wealth, Zane wasn’t released immediately. The boy he beat up suffered a mild concussion and severe soft-tissue damage, officially classifying the incident as second-degree assault. Thanks to the concrete video evidence I provided, all the money in the world couldn’t immediately bail him out. But the Blackwood family wasn’t sitting idle. By the afternoon, the atmosphere at school had drastically shifted. Walking down the hallway, I could feel the strange, judgmental stares and hear the loud whispers. “Did you hear? Kate intentionally sent Zane to the cops just to secure her scholarship.” “She is so toxic. Zane was just being a hero and standing up for Perla, and Kate stabbed him in the back.” “I always knew there was something wrong with her, sitting around studying all day. Who knew she was such a snake?” I walked to my desk at the back of the classroom. A few rows over, Perla was surrounded by a protective circle of girls. Her eyes were red and puffy, playing the picture of a fragile victim. “Please don’t be too hard on Kate, guys. She was probably just scared.” “But Zane is still locked up and suffering. I can’t even eat when I think about him. If Kate had just explained to the cops that it was a mutual fight, Zane wouldn’t be in a holding cell right now.” A boy named Tyler slammed his fist on a desk, burning with righteous indignation. “Perla, you are way too kind! Zane only got into this mess to protect you. Kate needs to go to the cops and clear his name.” “I’m going to go demand justice for you right now!” Tyler spun around and aggressively marched over to my desk. “Kate, did a dog eat your conscience?! Zane might be a bit rough around the edges, but he never bullied you! What gives you the right to ruin his life while he’s down?” I put down the physics exam I was currently acing, looking up to meet his angry glare. “Tyler, have you ever passed a physics test in your entire life?” Tyler froze, his face flushing red. “I’m talking about Zane! What does physics have to do with anything?!” I tapped my pen against my desk. “I bring it up because I’ve realized your brain is just as defective as your hearing.” I stood up, my gaze sweeping across the entire classroom before locking dead onto Perla. “First of all, the guy who got beaten up yesterday is Noah, a student from the class next door. He is not some gangbanger dropout.” “And the only reason Noah was attacked was because he accidentally spilled some soup on Perla’s shoes in the cafeteria. Noah immediately apologized and offered to pay for the shoes. It was Zane who tried to force Noah to get on his knees and lick Perla’s shoes clean. When Noah refused, Zane dragged him into the alley and beat him with a pipe.” I took a slow, deliberate step toward Perla. “Perla, is that what you call being a hero?” The classroom fell dead silent. Everyone stared at Perla in shock. Perla’s face drained of all color. She immediately covered her face and started sobbing. “I didn’t know… I was so terrified I ran away. I swear I didn’t know Zane was going to hurt him… Kate, why are you making up lies to ruin me?” I didn’t give her a single inch to breathe. “You didn’t know? Would you like me to read the exact text messages you sent Zane out loud?” I held up my phone and waved it. “I just went to the classroom next door. Noah’s friends confirmed that you threw a fit because Noah got a tiny stain on your limited-edition sneakers, making you lose face in front of your friends.” “You complained in your private group chat, and Zane immediately rushed out to intercept Noah just to earn points with you. I already have the screenshots of the chat.” The atmosphere in the room flipped instantly. The girls who had just been comforting Perla now looked at her with blatant disgust. Tyler stood frozen in place, his face burning with absolute humiliation. I stared down at Perla’s fake, crocodile tears. “Perla, you loved the thrill of having Zane act like a violent dog for your honor, but the second things got real, you tried to dump the blame on someone else.” “Zane is sitting in a holding cell right now. You claim you’re so heartbroken you can’t eat, yet I haven’t seen you visit the precinct to bring him a single meal.” “Stop using me as a meat shield to distract from your own guilt. If I hear you say one more word about me behind my back, I will print out those chat logs and tape a hundred copies to the school bulletin board so everyone can see what a ‘good person’ you really are.” Perla’s sobbing choked in her throat. She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, her face a mask of ugly panic, completely unable to utter a single word in her defense. Ignoring the stunned expressions of my classmates, I sat back down and returned to my practice test. The System was trembling in my mind. “You are ruthless… You completely destroyed the supporting female lead’s manipulative, victim-playing route with just a few sentences.” “She’s just bad at her job,” I replied coldly. For the next two weeks, Zane didn’t show his face at school. Rumor had it the Blackwood family spent an astronomical amount of money to secure a settlement and a signed letter of forgiveness from Noah’s family. Noah’s family struggled financially, so they accepted the massive payout and dropped the charges. Zane avoided real prison time, but due to the severe nature of the assault, he still had to serve fifteen days in juvenile detention. Today was his first day back. Coincidentally, it was also the day of the school’s semesterly “National Merit Scholar” award assembly. I was fully intent on winning that spot. Not only did it come with a fifty-thousand-dollar cash scholarship, but it would also practically guarantee my admission to the best pre-law programs in the country. I was consistently ranked first in the entire grade, had a flawless resume, and zero disciplinary marks. The scholarship was basically already mine. The assembly was scheduled for the afternoon in the main auditorium, with the entire student body and faculty attending. Half an hour before it began, Mr. Davis rushed into the classroom looking terrified. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hallway. “Kate, something happened. Come with me to the Principal’s office, now!”

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The day the financial aid grants were disbursed to our bank accounts, I was just about to wire the money to my hospitalized grandpa. Suddenly, a strange voice echoed right inside my head. [The Transfer System said as long as someone consumes something I give them, I can quietly siphon away their money.] [Noah just got his financial aid drop today. Let’s test it out on him. If the transfer actually works, I can finally use that cash to cop the designer suit I’ve been eyeing.] That voice… it unmistakably belonged to my roommate, Blake. Frowning, I was just about to turn my head to look at him when a chilled bottle of water was suddenly set down on my desk. Blake was smiling, his eyes curving with exaggerated warmth. “Hey Noah, thanks for grabbing my packages from the mailroom yesterday. Have some water on me.” A second later, his giddy inner voice rang in my ears again. [Drink it. Come on, drink it! The second that water hits your stomach, your cash belongs to me!] Looking at the poorly concealed greed and eager anticipation burning in his eyes, a sharp spike of fury ignited in my chest. That grant money was my grandpa’s literal lifeline. Blake knew exactly what that money was meant for. With a completely blank expression, I reached out and took the bottle. You want to drain my bank account? Fine. I will let you drain more than you could ever possibly stomach. 1 Seeing me take the water, Blake’s smile grew even wider. I could practically feel the burning intensity of his gaze locked onto my hands. His inner voice was practically buzzing with impatience. [Hurry up and twist the cap! You’re killing me here. Just one sip and that five thousand dollars is mine. I can finally secure those rare sneakers I’ve been obsessing over!] I casually lifted my eyes to look at Blake. He wore a perfectly crafted mask of friendly innocence, but the desperate greed in his pupils betrayed him completely. I let out a cold laugh in my head, keeping my face perfectly composed as I offered him a faint, polite smile. “Thanks, man. How much was it? I’ll Venmo you.” My tone was flat, completely devoid of any real emotion. Blake waved his hands frantically, his smile turning sickeningly sweet. “Oh, come on! We’re roommates, we live together! It’s literally just a bottle of water, don’t insult me by bringing up money. Drink up, man. I just took it out of the mini-fridge, it’ll cool you right down.” [Venmo me? Are you an idiot? As long as you drink it, your entire five-thousand-dollar grant is mine! Trading a two-dollar bottle of water for five grand is the easiest scam of my life!] I swept my gaze over him, taking in his entire outfit. He was wearing a brand-new pair of limited-edition sneakers today. I had seen them online before. Retail was a couple of grand, but resale prices had skyrocketed to nearly six thousand dollars. Strapped to his wrist was the latest Apple Watch Ultra. My other roommate had looked it up before, and it cost close to a thousand bucks. His family’s wealth eclipsed mine by miles, yet he was intentionally targeting the exact money meant to keep my dying grandfather breathing. I set the water bottle near the edge of my desk, my voice entirely indifferent. “I’m actually not thirsty right now. I’ll save it for later.” The smile on Blake’s face froze for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked it, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure thing! Just leave it there. Drink it whenever.” Right on cue, his mental voice pierced my ears again, revealing the exact, twisted mechanics of his system. [This guy is so difficult! Why couldn’t the stupid rule just be that he has to ‘accept’ the item to trigger the transfer?] [Plus, it takes a full two hours after consumption for the funds to actually hit my account. So slow.] [But at least the system automatically wipes all the bank logs and leaves zero digital trace. That part is pretty sweet.] I looked down at the plastic bottle resting on my desk, a glacial chill flashing through my eyes. You want to swallow my grandfather’s medical funds? Then I will make sure you get a profound taste of what unchecked greed really costs. Right in front of Blake, I unzipped my backpack and shoved the bottle into the side pocket. “I have to head to my campus job. See you.” I swung my backpack over my shoulder, keeping my tone casual. Blake nodded along, playing the caring friend. “Don’t work too hard, dude. Make sure you get some rest!” [Perfect! He took the water with him. As long as he takes a sip on his shift, that five grand is secured.] [The second the money clears, I am ordering those sneakers. I am so sick of watching other guys flex them on campus!] I didn’t bother looking back, tossing a vague hum of acknowledgment over my shoulder as I pushed the dorm door open and walked out. When I arrived at the university’s main dining hall kitchen, the head chef, Maria, was already chatting away. “This bisque right here… this is the main event. A massive tech billionaire who’s attending the Alumni Gala today specifically requested it. Said he missed it from his college days. We used the most expensive, premium ingredients for this batch. I’ll save you a bowl later so you can taste it.” Maria smiled warmly at me while continuously stirring the massive, steaming industrial pot. I smiled back. “Thanks, Maria. That sounds amazing.” Staring into that giant vat of rich, aromatic soup, the corners of my mouth slowly curled upward. When no one was looking, I pulled the water bottle from my bag, unscrewed the cap, and poured every last drop directly into the boiling bisque. 2 With the water safely disposed of, I immediately threw myself into my kitchen duties. The dining hall was an absolute madhouse during the lunch rush. A relentless tide of students and faculty poured through the doors, keeping me on my feet until the early afternoon. The moment I pushed my dorm room door open later that day, the first thing I saw was Blake sitting perfectly upright at his desk. His eyes locked onto me instantly. They were burning with an intense, jittery urgency, like a predator that had been waiting hours for its prey to return. Before I could even take my backpack off, Blake jumped up and practically sprinted over to me. He was holding an artisan pastry from a high-end bakery, his smile looking completely strained but desperate. “Noah! You must be dead on your feet after working all morning. You have to be starving, right? I just bought this pastry, grab a bite to hold you over.” The very next second, his inner voice flooded my mind. [I have no idea if he actually drank the water or not. If he didn’t, I need to force him to eat something else. I can’t risk it!] [Plus, if this works, I might not just get his financial aid grant… I might be able to siphon whatever wages he earned from his shift today too! Might as well drain every penny I can!] Listening to his parasitic, bottomless calculations, a violent wave of disgust rose in my throat. It wasn’t enough that he was targeting my scholarship money. He was actually trying to steal the minimum-wage blood money I had just spent hours standing on my feet to earn. I clamped down on my anger, letting a noticeable layer of frost enter my voice. I rejected him flat out. “No thanks. I ate a staff meal in the kitchen before I left. I’m completely full.” Blake’s outstretched hand froze in midair. His overly eager smile collapsed instantly, and he awkwardly pulled the pastry back. He walked back to his desk in sullen silence. The atmosphere in the room immediately thickened with awkward tension. Tyler, our third roommate, was sitting on his bed. He had always thought of me as an antisocial loser. Always looking for a reason to pick a fight, Tyler immediately seized the opportunity to play the hero for Blake. His voice dripped with aggressive judgment. “Noah, what is your actual problem?” “Blake is trying to be a decent guy. He gave you water this morning, and now he’s offering you expensive food because he knows you work hard. Why do you have to be such an ungrateful prick?” I lifted my gaze to meet Tyler’s, my voice perfectly level but carrying an unyielding weight. “I am not being ungrateful. I already thanked him for the gesture.” “I told him I already ate and I’m not hungry. Refusing food I don’t want… is that a crime now?” Sitting nearby, Blake’s mental complaints were loud and grating, full of irritable frustration. [Noah is so damn annoying! He’s like a brick wall. He refuses to eat or drink anything I give him.] [If I knew it was going to be this much of a hassle, I would have picked someone else for the experiment. This is a massive waste of my time!] Tyler wasn’t ready to let it go. He crossed his arms and sneered, his tone growing even more mocking. “You’re just acting like you’re above us! You never hang out with us, and you think just because you get top grades, you can look down on everyone else.” “Now you think you’re too good to accept a simple favor?” He paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “I bet you took that water he gave you this morning and threw it straight in the trash.” I kept my eyes crystal clear, staring directly into his. My voice was calm and deliberate. “Stop projecting your own toxic assumptions onto me. And for the record, I already drank the water.” The moment those words left my mouth, Blake’s dejected posture vanished. His pupils dilated with sheer electricity. The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to break into a massive, manic grin that he could barely suppress. He immediately forced his expression into a mask of friendly neutrality, stepping in to play the generous peacemaker. “Alright, alright, guys! Tyler, back off a bit. Noah didn’t mean anything by it, he’s probably just genuinely full. We all live in the same room, there’s no reason to start a fight over a piece of bread.” [Yes! Yes! It actually worked! He drank the water, which means that five grand is basically sitting in my pocket!] [Once that money clears, I am ordering the sneakers instantly. Then, I’ll buy a bunch of premium snacks and drinks for Tyler and the other guys in the hall. I’ll drain all their monthly allowances too!] [If I pull this off a few more times, I can finally upgrade to that top-tier graphics card! This is literally perfect!] I watched his hypocritical, smiling face in silence. Listening to the sickening depth of his greed, my heart felt nothing but absolute, freezing indifference. 3 My brief lunch break ended quickly. I grabbed my uniform and headed straight back to the dining hall for the second half of my shift. By now, the morning sessions of the University Alumni Gala had concluded. All the invited guests, the university board members, corporate titans, and wealthy donors, were being ushered into the dining hall for the catered luncheon. The hall was packed to the brim, humming with energetic conversation. Not only were there VIP guests whose net worths defied imagination, but hundreds of student volunteers and faculty members were also present. The massive dining space didn’t have a single empty seat. Everyone was carrying trays, lining up to be served the legendary gourmet bisque. Taking advantage of a brief lull in the kitchen, I discreetly pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. My balance read: $0.00. The system’s theft had successfully activated. I swallowed every ounce of panic and anger, slipping my phone away, and went right back to serving soup to the billionaires, professors, and students with methodical precision. By 2:00 PM, the lunch rush finally died down. The crowd began migrating over to the Main Auditorium for the keynote speeches from the distinguished alumni. I changed out of my uniform and followed the crowd, taking a seat near the back of the auditorium. Blake and Tyler happened to be sitting just a few rows away from me. Halfway through the event, an incredibly successful tech CEO was speaking passionately on stage. The audience was silent, hanging onto his every word. Suddenly, a few frantic whispers broke the quiet atmosphere. “Wait, why is my Apple Pay declining? I’m trying to pay for my Amazon cart, but it says insufficient funds.” A girl sitting in the row ahead of me was staring at her phone in total confusion, her voice a harsh whisper. Her friend immediately leaned in, her tone laced with rising panic. “Me too! My parents wired me two thousand dollars for rent just yesterday! I tried to order a coffee on the app and my entire bank account is completely empty! What is going on?!” More and more panicked murmurs began rippling through the rows of seating. Right at that moment, down in the front-row VIP section, a corporate tycoon in a bespoke tailored suit shot up from his seat. He was clutching his phone, his face completely drained of blood. His voice trembled violently. Because he was sitting so close to the stage microphones, his panicked words echoed clearly across the entire auditorium, plunging the room into dead silence. “This is impossible… My entire portfolio… millions of dollars just vanished from my accounts!” Those words hit the room like a bomb. The crowd erupted in absolute shock and uproar. After a second of stunned silence, the auditorium descended into total chaos. Screams of disbelief and frantic questioning echoed off the walls. “I just checked! My tuition savings are gone! I worked three part-time jobs for a year for that money!” “My rent money is completely gone!” It wasn’t just the students. Dozens of professors and faculty members were frantically jabbing at their phone screens, their faces turning ashen. “My entire paycheck from yesterday… wiped clean!” a professor yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. Several university board members were huddled together, staring at a tablet in sheer horror. “What is happening?! The university’s operational fund… millions of dollars allocated for this event… it’s all gone!” A wave of pure terror swept through the massive hall. The carefully organized keynote event completely disintegrated into a chaotic nightmare. I sat perfectly still amidst the screaming crowd, slowly turning my head to look at Blake. Just a few minutes ago, when my specific grant money had hit his account, he couldn’t stop smiling. His eyes had been glowing with the thrill of stolen wealth. But right now… as he watched the digital numbers on his banking app skyrocket into the stratosphere, millions upon millions of dollars flooding his account from every direction… The smug smile melted off his face. His skin turned a sickly, translucent white. [What the hell is happening?! Why is there so much money?!] [Are all their missing funds… are they all transferring directly to me?!] Blake slowly turned his head, his eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated terror, and locked eyes with me. I looked right back at his panic-stricken face. And I smiled. Just as the pandemonium in the auditorium reached a boiling point, the piercing wail of police sirens echoed from the campus courtyard. A squad of heavily armed police officers and federal agents stormed through the auditorium doors. “Which one of you is Blake? We received an emergency alert from the Federal Reserve regarding massive, fraudulent anomalies traced directly to your accounts.”

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1 “Three years married. Is it truly irretrievably broken?” the judge asked, his voice echoing in the sterile courtroom. I gave a bitter smile and slid my wedding band off, placing it on the oak table. It landed with a hollow clink. “Three years married. Three years separated.” I looked up, my eyes dry. “Your Honor, is there anything left to save?” We dated five years. I was pinned at the top of his messages, his emergency contact, the sole beneficiary of his life insurance. I thought I chose right. But on our wedding day, he received a call. His face went pale. His mother was gravely ill. He left immediately, flying home. For three years, he texted daily photos of his meals. His mother never appeared. My heart ached; I offered to quit my job and help care for her. He sounded tender, claiming he couldn’t bear to see me exhausted. Until last month. Scrolling TikTok, I found a vlogger—a cancer survivor documenting recovery. And there was Brent. The caption read: He is my first sight each morning. My companion for every meal. These hands holding mine are his. What about me? For over a thousand days, I only had myself. He lied. The judge raised the gavel. “Absolutely certain?” I nodded heavily. When the marriage dissolved, I stared at the decree. The walls around my heart collapsed, and the tears finally came. Brent, I’m setting you free. And freeing myself. … “Is it done?” My mother rushed up to me the moment I stepped out of the courthouse. “It’s done.” “He still did not show up?” “No.” “Does he even know?” I shook my head. “The court issued a public notice for sixty days. They could not reach him. I figure he did not have the time to check his mail anyway.” My mother’s voice choked up. “Because of Lily?” “Yeah. She was undergoing surgery at the time. Life or death.” My mother wiped the corners of her eyes. “So… is she going to get better now?” “Maybe.” “Barfly, do you still love him?” I looked out at the busy street. “For three years, he took care of her every single meal without fail. Mom, he might have a place for me in his heart, but he has a place for her too.” My mother’s face wrinkled with sorrow, but she said nothing more. Five years ago, we met in a hospital. Back then, he was already the most sought after thoracic surgeon in the state. I was just his patient. Every morning at eight, he would lead a team of doctors in for rounds. His eyes never lingered on me. But every time, he would leave a piece of candy on my bedside table. He said the medicine was bitter, and a little sugar would make it bearable. On the day I was discharged, Brent came to do the rounds alone. He told me I was completely fine and would not need to come back. I could not hide the disappointment in my eyes. But his next words left me frozen in place. “You are no longer my patient. Does that mean I can ask you out now?” Back then, the entire hospital knew Dr. Brent was crazy about me. During my one month stay, he swapped every shift he could just to get an extra glimpse of me. Most days, he worked back to back day and night shifts. Just so he could ask me how I was feeling that day. “Ding.” The elevator doors slid open, pulling me out of my memories. I stepped into my apartment. My phone screen lit up. It was Brent. He sent a photo. A boarding pass from San Diego to Seattle. The date was for tomorrow. A second later, another text popped up. “Wifey, I will be home soon!” I stood in the entryway, staring at those words for a very long time. Last year, my appendix burst. When I was rushed to the ER, I sent him a very similar text. The only difference was that mine was a question. “Hubby, can you come home?” My phone stayed dead silent for an entire day. Later, I saw him in Lily’s vlog. He looked nervous, his brow furrowed in concentration. As the camera zoomed out, I saw him carefully piping frosting onto a cake. It read, “To Lily, a lifetime of health.” Three years. On the exact day I finally decided to give up on him, he told me he was coming home. I opened the door, bent down to change my shoes, and looked around the apartment. Everywhere I looked, I only saw traces of myself. The unworn men’s slippers in the shoe cabinet had been sitting there for three years. The clothes hanging on the balcony balcony were all mine. There were a few things that belonged to him. But there was nothing that belonged to us. I opened the most liked video pinned to the top of Lily’s page. It was a tour of their home in San Diego. Neatly arranged by the door were two pairs of matching house slippers. Pink and blue. The soles of the blue ones were worn down. Their clothes hung together on the balcony, looking exactly like a married couple’s laundry. The camera panned down to reveal a vibrant, colorful garden. Lily stepped into the frame, her smile blindingly bright, introducing them one by one. Roses, daisies, sunflowers, bougainvillea. Brent planted them all for her. Not for any special reason, but just because he wanted to see her smile. During our second year living together, I bought some potted plants for our balcony too. He forgot to water them every single time. I once asked him why he could not put a little effort into it. He replied without looking up. “They are just flowers, Barfly.” Just flowers. That was only reserved for me. He simply did not care enough when it came to me. I dialed his number. The line connected. “Brent, we are already div…” “Sorry, I am not him.” It was Lily. “Who is this?” I asked, my voice flat. “I am Brent’s friend.” I stayed silent for a few seconds. “Did you need something from him? He was up all night packing his luggage, he did not sleep at all. Just tell me what it is.” I let out a self deprecating laugh. Just as I was about to hang up, Brent’s voice drifted over the line. “Who is it?” “I think it is… your wife.” Brent took the phone. “Barfly, is everything okay?” “Who is she?” The line went dead silent for a long time. “A friend.” “Just a friend?” “Yes, just a friend. Do not overthink it.” “Are you… coming back together?” “Yeah. Her health is fragile. I am a doctor, I can keep an eye on her during the flight.” The airport boarding announcement echoed in the background. “Oh, right. You like flowers, right? I bought you a little seedling.” Before I could say anything, he hung up. I walked out to the balcony. The flower pot sat on the rack, the soil inside dry and cracked. The wind blew, stirring up the dust. It was no longer fit for growing anything. My phone lit up again. It was from Brent. Just four words. “Boarding now. Do not disturb.” He had sent me those exact words three hundred and fifty six times. Every time he could not be bothered to deal with me, that was his go to phrase. When Lily was in surgery, he sent this. And now, he sent it again. I whispered into the empty air. “Never again.” Brent arrived at ten the next morning. His hair was shorter, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes, but his entire aura felt softer. Gentler. I froze for a second. He chuckled softly and pulled me into a loose embrace. “It has been three years. Did you forget what your husband looks like?” “Yeah.” He ruffled my hair. “Heartless. And here I thought of you and brought you a flower.” It was a single, straight stem with a few sparse green leaves. No flower in sight. Clatter. I looked down at the sound. A white plastic pill bottle rolled across the floor. Omeprazole. Prescription strength stomach medicine. “Yours?” “No, it belongs to… Lily.” “Your friend?” “Yeah.” “Is she sick?” “Yeah, a really severe condition. When the pain hits, she cannot keep anything down.” “Why are her pills in your pocket?” “Must have grabbed them by mistake.” He was lying again. Brent took my hand and led me to the balcony. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s get this planted.” He stared at the cracked, bone dry soil and frowned slightly. “It’s fine. I will have Lily bring over some good potting soil later.” “Is your mom feeling better?” “She is… pretty much recovered.” “When do you have time to take me to see her?” His grip on the plant tightened. “Next time.” He was lying again. I did not say another word. At eight that evening, the nursing home called. It was Brent’s grandmother. After dinner, he told me he was going for a walk and had not returned. “Barfly, Brent left his phone here. Come pick it up.” “He went to see you just now?” “Yes, and he brought a friend.” “Lily?” “That’s right.” “You know her?” “I knew her before I even met you. I watched that girl grow up.” “Do you like her, Nana?” “Of course I do. Whatever my grandson likes, I like.” A sharp sting hit the bridge of my nose. “Nana, since you like her so much, she should visit you more often from now on, don’t you think?” “Absolutely not.” I paused. “Brent could not bear it. Let her rest. You are the one for the dirty work, Barfly.” It felt like something was lodged in my throat. I could not speak for a long time. But she was Brent’s grandmother. Not mine. For the three years we were married, I took care of her for three years. When she was bedridden and could not move, I was the one cleaning up after her. When she needed her medicine, I was the one spoon feeding her. Her sharp mind and good health were the results of my endless exhaustion. Once, I called Brent and begged him to come back and help. He just said, “I have you, don’t I?” Because of that one sentence, I treated her like my own flesh and blood. Later, when her condition required professional care and she moved to the facility, Brent called specifically to scold me for sending her away. Three years of my life, traded for his simple excuse. He could not bear to let Lily tire herself out. “Nana, it is getting late. You should sleep.” “Alright. Tomorrow is my birthday. Remember to tell Lily to come over for dinner.” The call ended, and the apartment fell back into dead silence. Brent came home at ten. “Nana said you left your phone in her room.” He paused halfway through taking off his shoes. “You know?” “Why did she go with you?” “Do not misunderstand. She felt bad for Nana, so I brought her along to say hi.” “You brought her, but not me?” “You see her all the time, don’t you?” “It is different.” He gave me a bewildered look. “What is the difference?” “The meaning is different.” I went out of duty, offering myself up. He brought her out of a desire to include her in his life. It was different. “Okay, okay. Let’s not fight, alright? Whatever you say goes. I will listen to you from now on.” His face was a mask of indulgence, acting as if I was the one running the show. During our three years of separation, that was his favorite line. What to buy for the house, I make the call. Nana’s medical decisions, I make the call. Even the wedding ring I never got to wear, I had to figure it out myself. The doorbell rang. Brent went to get it. Lily stood in the hallway. She wore a flowing white sundress, holding Brent’s phone up and swaying it playfully. “What are you doing here?” “Bringing you your phone. Nana specifically called to remind me.” Brent’s tone was light and breezy. The curve of his smile matched the one on Lily’s face perfectly. In just three years, they had adopted each other’s mannerisms. They looked like the married couple. But I was his wife. Brent’s eyes landed on her bare shoulders. He frowned. “Wait here.” He walked right past me, crossed the living room, and went into the guest bedroom. When he came out, he had a shawl in his hands. “I am going to walk her home. Go to sleep first.” He said that to me. “Are you coming back?” “Of course.” He shook the shawl open and draped it over Lily’s shoulders with practiced ease. It was a warm yellow fabric covered in tiny floral prints. It was Lily’s favorite color. “It looks beautiful,” I said. Lily chimed in immediately. “Brent bought it. He has great taste. Barfly, you really need to take him shopping with you next time.” “Did he pick out that white dress for you too?” “Yeah. Do you like it?” “It looks great.” A week before we got our marriage license, I told him I wanted to buy a white dress and asked him to come with me. He made a million excuses to get out of it. When I pushed him, he finally snapped. “Real men do not go shopping.” But it turned out, it just depended on who he was shopping with. The elevator arrived. Brent escorted Lily out. Once again, I was the only person left in this home. After a while, I sent him a text. “Come back soon. I need to talk to you.” “About what? Lily is scared of the dark, so it might be a while before I head back. Just text it to me.” “Are you in love with Lily?” “Stop talking nonsense. She is just a friend.” “You go shopping with her. You take her to see your grandmother. You never shopped with me, and you never took me with you to visit her. She acts more like your wife than I do.” A few seconds later, my phone rang. It was him. “You are making a huge deal out of nothing. Are you really suspecting us over this?” “It is not a misunderstanding.” “Fine, it is my fault. Lily told me you lacked a sense of security. We have been apart for three years. I do not blame you for being paranoid.” “She said that?” “That does not matter. What matters is that you are the one I married. We have a long, long time to be together.” His breathing grew rushed. “Lily just got her hot dog. We really have to get walking. Do not overthink it, I will be home soon.” A long time? Did three years count as long? He spent three years in San Diego keeping Lily company, while I stayed in Seattle alone. I went home alone, worked alone, and took care of his dying grandmother alone. I whispered into the dark room. “It was long enough.” He did not come home that night. The next day, I went to work and handed in my resignation. When I got home, Brent was walking through the door. “You did not come home last night?” “It got way too late. I did not want to wake you up, so I just crashed on her couch. You are not mad, right?” “I am not mad.” “Oh, by the way, today is Nana’s birthday. She invited Lily over. You do not mind, right?” “I do not mind.” “That is my Barfly. Always so understanding.” It was not understanding. I just simply did not care anymore. At six that evening, I came home to find Nana and Lily already sitting in the living room. Lily was sitting right next to Nana, and Brent was on Lily’s other side. I stopped in my tracks. The front door was still open, letting in a draft of cold air. Brent frowned and took off his jacket, draping it over Lily’s legs. “Close the door!” His tone was sharp. I closed it quietly and took the seat furthest away from their little family circle. “Two Lilies?” Nana’s dementia was acting up again. “Nana, I am the real Lily,” she corrected with a sweet laugh. “Oh, look at my memory. Lily, my sweet girl, you finally came back. Brent waited for you for a very long time.” “I know. I am back now.” “When are you two getting married? I have the wedding gifts all prepared.” “Nana, you are confused again. Barfly is Brent’s wife.” She offered the explanation. But as she spoke, Nana took her hand and placed it directly over Brent’s. “It is getting late. I am going to start dinner. What does everyone want to eat?” Brent stood up. He asked the room, but his eyes were entirely fixed on Lily. “I want garlic butter shrimp.” Brent’s face darkened. Lily’s health was fragile, and her doctor had strictly forbidden heavy seafood. She shrank back a little, flashing an apologetic, pleading smile. “Whatever you make, I will love it.” His expression softened. He gave her a look that was equal parts warning and absolute devotion. Their dynamic was domestic and intimate. They had completely turned this place into their own home. Lily turned to look at me. “You have not asked what Barfly wants to eat.” “She is not high maintenance like you. She eats whatever.” Eats whatever? He just never took the time to learn what I actually liked. The food was brought out. Stir fried greens, steamed shrimp, herbal chicken soup, sweet and sour ribs. A feast. Brent stood up, took Nana’s bowl, and scooped some soup for her. “Nana, the big drumstick, just the way you like it.” Then he placed a piece of sweet and sour rib into Lily’s bowl. “Do not eat too much of this. The doctor said you need to watch your red meat intake.” When it came to me, he hesitated. Not knowing what to say, he silently scooped a spoonful of plain greens onto my plate. Lily giggled. “Barfly likes greens?” “I told you, she is easy. She eats whatever is in front of her.” But I hated greens. Nana, feeling sorry for him, pulled his sleeve and put a piece of meat into his bowl. “Stop serving everyone and sit down to eat.” “Nana, he just finished cooking. He cannot stomach heavy meat right now. It makes him nauseous.” “What should he have then?” “Oh, it passes. A bowl of clear broth will settle his stomach.” As Lily spoke, she pushed a small bowl of hot, clear broth right in front of him. Three years. It was enough time for him to know Lily inside out. And for Lily to know him. I felt like an intruder. I never knew Brent could cook. I certainly never knew he needed clear broth after spending time in the kitchen. He was sitting right there at the table. But he felt thousands of miles away. After dinner, I went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Lily walked in, carrying a stack of plates. “Barfly.” “Yes?” “I saw the court notice online.” “And?” “I just wanted to say you are misunderstanding Brent. If I had not gotten sick, he never would have…” “Never would have what?” “Look, we are not what you think.” “What are you, then?” “We are just friends.” “If you are just his friend, why did not you tell him about the notice?” Lily froze, her eyes darting away from mine. “I… I was sick. I needed him.” “I saw your vlogs. Let me ask you this. If you were me, what would you think? Friends? Lovers? Husband and wife?” “We are not as dirty as you think. He never did anything to betray you. Not once.” “So this doesn’t count as betrayal?” “Like I said, we are just friends.” She turned to leave, but stopped by the door. “The potting soil Brent wanted me to bring… I left it by the balcony. Use it or throw it away, I don’t care.” Soon, the sound of easy laughter drifted from the living room. I dried my hands and walked out to the balcony. The sad little stem was still lying on the floor. A small plastic bag of rich black dirt sat next to it. The plant was Lily’s. The soil was Lily’s. Only the empty ceramic pot belonged to me. He had only been back for two days, yet this apartment was already suffocating under the weight of Lily’s presence. I walked out and sat quietly in the corner of the living room. The laughter slowly died down. Brent stood up, holding Lily’s purse. “Let’s go. I will drive you home.” He turned back to me. “I will leave Nana to you.” “Why are you the one driving her? Why not me?” “Don’t you hate her?” So he knew everything. I forced a smile and nodded. “Sure.” The drive to the nursing home was painfully quiet. As we pulled into the driveway, Nana suddenly spoke. “Lily left him back then because she did not want to drag him down with her illness. If she had stayed, you never would have had a chance.” My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “I know.” “Now that Brent is back, you two need to live a good life together.” I kept my mouth shut. The silence stretched until we parked. The nurses helped Nana back to her room. I turned and walked straight to the front desk. “Ms. Jiang, do you need to update anything?” the head nurse asked. “Yes. Change her emergency contact.” “Of course. Who should we put down?” “Brent. He is her biological grandson.” The nurse put her pen down. “Done. It is updated in the system.” Saturday morning. I was on the balcony. Brent walked over, yawning. “Barfly, what are you doing?” Dirt covered the tiles. The flower pot was empty. “You are awake. Plant this with me.” “Sure. That seedling has been sitting there for days, what brought this on?” “I just felt like it. Will you help?” “Of course.” He rolled up his sleeves and took the small trowel from my hand. I held the stem upright, watching his face intently. “Why are you staring at me like that?” “It has been a long time since I really looked at you.” “We have all the time in the world now.” “Brent, do you remember what you said to me when you proposed three years ago?” “Of course I remember.” “Can you say it again?” He dusted the dirt off his hands, his eyes incredibly soft. “Okay. Barfly, I imagined a thousand ways to ask you this, but none of them captured how desperately I want you. I want you to be the first person I see when I open my eyes, and the last person I see when I close them. Barfly, I love you. Will you marry me?” The doorbell rang. He stood up to get it. Halfway across the living room, he stopped and looked back. “I am still waiting for your answer.” He opened the door. It was Lily. She did not say a single word. She just shoved a thick medical file into his chest. Brent whipped his head back toward me. “I am sorry. I cannot stay with you today.” “Why?” “I cannot let her go to her check up alone.” “Why can’t she go alone?” “You don’t understand. With her condition, she needs someone there.” He rushed to the sink, washed the mud off his hands, grabbed his car keys, and turned for the door. I called out to his back. “Don’t you want my answer?” “We are already married. The answer does not matter anymore.” “What about the flower?” “Wait for me to come back, okay?” Before I could say another word, the door slammed shut, and he was gone. “We are divorced.” I whispered to the empty room. “And I am done waiting.” I sat cross legged on the cold balcony tiles. I swept up the dry dirt, and the rich black soil Lily had brought. I pulled the seedling out of the pot. I threw all of it into the trash can. My phone lit up. A text from Brent. “Barfly, do not worry. I will not disappear like I did three years ago. Wait for me to come home and cook for you.” I stared at the glowing letters for a long time. I pressed my thumb down on the message and hit delete. Then I went to his profile and blocked his number. I erased every trace of our shared history from my phone. I made a phone call. I hired a moving company. Within half an hour, the truck was parked outside, and the men were standing in my living room. “Miss, what are we taking?” “Everything.” The TV, the fridge, the appliances filled a third of the truck. The couch, the dining table, our wedding bed took up another third. Whatever was left did not matter anymore. I bought every single piece of furniture in this house over the last three years. I refused to leave a single thing behind for him. I left the court issued divorce decree on the bare kitchen island. I left a note beside it. “Brent, you paid for the house, and I am not greedy. Keep it. But I bought everything inside it, and I am not leaving any of it for you. Congratulations to you and Lily.” I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder and walked out the door without looking back. Downstairs, my rented RV was fueled and ready. I turned the ignition. The engine roared to life. Suddenly, a familiar figure darted into the street. The screeching of tires shattered the morning air. “Barfly!”

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1 Trying on my wedding dress, my sister Brittney joined us. I stepped out in heavy white tulle. Guy stood before me, letting Brittney adjust his bowtie, a soft smile on his lips. Before I spoke, the stylist bypassed me, beaming at Brittney. “Right this way, beautiful bride.” They exchanged glances and chuckled. No correction. Noah, our childhood friend and photographer, brushed past me, camera clicking. Of ninety-nine photos taken that afternoon, every single one featured Brittney and Guy. Not one of me, the actual bride. My feet cemented to the floor. As children, Noah and Brittney always played bride and groom while I tossed petals. Now adults, I had a real fiancé, yet there they were, laughing and posing, while I held her purse. “Adam, hand me that bouquet,” Brittney called. I didn’t move. Guy approached, gently taking it from my numb fingers. “Spacing out? Go pick invitation designs. I’ll join you after,” he said, tender and oblivious. Noah peeked from behind his lens. “Adam, step left. You’re blocking the light.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, backing into the cold wall. Reality washed over me. I was unnecessary here. If this wedding didn’t need me, I wouldn’t attend. I quietly picked up my purse from the velvet bench and pushed the glass door open. The brass bell chimed overhead. Nobody called my name. I glanced back one last time. Brittney was twirling in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. Guy stood behind her, carefully adjusting the silk bow at her waist. Noah crouched low, snapping away. “Yes, perfect. Hold that angle.” The flash went off five or six times in a row. I turned away and walked out into the street. The moment I sat behind the steering wheel of my car, my phone screen lit up. It was a text from our wedding planner. “Hi Adam, the wedding is coming up fast! Have you decided on the invitation suite yet?” Before I could type a reply, another bubble popped up. “Or you could have your sister pick them out? She has fantastic taste.” The interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet. It was so quiet I could hear the rhythm of my own breathing. In and out. Like I was counting. Counting what? Counting the number of times I had been forgotten in this relationship? The number of times I had been rendered invisible? I typed three words and hit send. “Let her decide.” I meant it. It didn’t matter what I picked anyway. Guy would always agree with Brittney’s choices in the end. The planner replied instantly. “Great, noted.” I stared at those words. I could practically hear her sigh of relief. Dealing with Brittney was so much easier than waiting for the indecisive bride. My phone vibrated wildly in my hand. Notifications flooded our group chat. Noah was uploading the photos he just took. I tapped on the thumbnails. His composition was flawless. The afternoon sunlight hit Guy and Brittney’s faces perfectly. They looked like a magazine spread for a luxury bridal brand. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. When I was a little girl playing pretend, I was so incredibly jealous of the one who got to wear the veil. When I met Guy, I thought my time had finally come. I thought I finally got to be the real bride. I poured my heart and soul into this wedding. I walked on eggshells, obsessing over every detail. It was as if this ceremony was my only proof that I was worthy of being the main character in my own life. I never expected to be shoved out of the frame entirely. I brought Brittney today because she was my family. Trying on wedding dresses was supposed to be a sacred, intimate moment. There was only supposed to be one bride and one groom in the mirror. And I was the bride. I thought nothing could possibly go wrong today. But the result was exactly the same as always. My phone screen faded to black, then lit up again. Message after message rolled into the group chat. I didn’t reply to a single one. And nobody noticed. I drove back to my apartment. Stuck to the fridge was a bright yellow sticky note I had written myself. “7 Days Until the Wedding.” I peeled the paper off the metal, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it into the trash. I didn’t get out of bed until noon the next day. When I finally checked my phone, there were over a hundred messages in the wedding group chat. I stared at the single voice memo Brittney had tagged me in. I hesitated, then tapped play. “Adam, I went ahead and changed the background music for the reception. The song you picked was way too depressing. It is a wedding, it is supposed to be lively!” Right below it was a text from Guy. “Yeah, the original track didn’t fit the vibe.” The original track. I spent an entire month hunting down that specific vinyl. It was the song my parents danced to at their own wedding. They passed away when I was young. I just wanted them to be present on my big day in some small way. Whenever I heard those opening chords, my eyes would well up with tears. Guy knew this. Brittney knew this. But they still decided it was too depressing. Brittney sent another message to the group. “My sister doesn’t really have an eye for this stuff anyway. We will just handle the final details for her.” Guy replied with a single word. “Okay.” I stared at that word until my vision blurred. The messages kept scrolling past like a rushing river. Nobody seemed to realize that I was in the chat. Nobody realized I hadn’t spoken a word. My participation in my own wedding had officially reached zero. I opened my private messages with Guy. Our last conversation was from yesterday morning, right before the dress fitting. I told him I was feeling a little nervous. He replied with an emoji of a bear patting another bear on the head. Nothing else. He didn’t even send a private text to ask why I left the boutique early. He just tagged me in the group chat last night. “What happened? Got stage fright and ran off?” Nobody answered him, and he didn’t press the issue. Brittney sent a picture of the dress soon after, captioning it, “Dress fitting was a success. We secured the gown!” And just like that, my absence was brushed over. Then they moved right along to discussing floral arrangements, invitations, and the photobooth backdrop. I suddenly realized my role wasn’t just unnecessary. Being unnecessary meant I actually had a place to begin with. The truth was, I was never even in the picture. I was pulling my suitcase out of the closet when Brittney FaceTimed me. I answered. The screen showed a makeup artist blending foundation onto her cheek. “Adam, you move way too slow. You still hadn’t booked a makeup artist, so I just hired a premium team for you. I’m having them do a trial run on me first.” I watched her check her reflection in the camera. I opened my mouth, but the words died on my tongue. Should I tell her I booked my best friend to do my makeup two weeks ago? Should I ask her why they kept making decisions without asking me if I was okay with them? It felt pointless. Had I never asked before? Had I never shown my anger? Had I never tried to stand my ground? I had. And their response was always the same. “You are the older sister. Be the bigger person. Let her have this.” Noah grew up with me. We were childhood best friends. Yet he always took her side. When Guy first pursued me, he said he loved how quiet and steady I was. He called it endearing. I thought he truly loved my calm nature. But after he met Brittney, his preferences mysteriously shifted. He started dropping comments about how girls should be vibrant, bubbly, and full of opinions. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked him directly. “Can you please stop being so physically affectionate with Brittney?” I loved my sister. I raised her. Guy should have known how much it cost me to ask that question. He didn’t take it seriously. He just laughed and ruffled my hair. “She is your little sister, Adam. Do you want me to be enemies with my future sister in law?” I fell silent. Of course I didn’t want them to be enemies. But the crushing weight of being the mature older sister had been breaking my back for years. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t breathe. They always seemed to forget that I was only two years older than her. I wanted to be spoiled too. I wanted someone to ask me if I liked something before forcing it on me. A sliver of afternoon sunlight crept through the blinds and pooled on the hardwood floor. I remembered the aftermath of our childhood games. When the pretend wedding was over, Noah and Brittney would run off laughing. I was always the one left behind, picking up the scattered flower petals one by one, putting them back into the basket. Nobody ever stayed to help me. Nobody ever asked if I was tired. I called my landlord and told him I was moving out today. “Are you sure?” he asked, surprised. “You have been here for over four years.” Four years. When Guy and I first started dating seriously, he wanted me to move into his place. Brittney told me it was bad luck to live together before marriage. I agreed that maintaining some personal space was healthy. So I rented this apartment just a few blocks from his corporate office, hoping it would make it easier to see him. He loved the idea. Sometimes he would crash here after a late night at work. This apartment held the evidence of our love. Our fights. Our comfortable silences. And countless memories of his back as he rushed out the door to work. “Yes. Moving out today,” I said firmly. He sighed and told me to leave the keys in the mailbox. Not long after I hung up, the lock clicked. The front door swung open. Guy walked in, with Brittney trailing right behind him. Brittney turned to him with a bright smile. “We agreed on this, right? I get the spare bedroom with the bay window in your new house. But I am changing the curtains to blush pink.” I stood frozen in the middle of the living room. I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. She said it so naturally. As if moving into our marital home and claiming a room for herself was a universal given. Guy didn’t object. He looked at her with pure indulgence. “As long as Adam is fine with it.” “My sister loves me. Why would she care?” I stared at them. Something tight in my chest suddenly snapped. “What if I say I do care?” The room went dead silent for two full seconds. Brittney froze. It was probably the first time she had ever heard me say the word no. Before she even opened her mouth, her eyes filled with glossy tears. Guy’s expression darkened instantly. “Adam, what is wrong with you? You usually give her anything she wants. Now you are going to pick a fight over a spare bedroom?” “I am not picking a fight,” I said evenly. “Then what the hell is this?” He frowned, stepping forward. “What is the big deal if Brittney moves in? She is your sister, not a stranger. The house is massive. The room is just going to sit empty anyway.” “It is our marital home. Is she marrying you?” I asked. The question caught him off guard. He choked on his words. Brittney sniffled, her voice dropping to a pathetic whisper. “Adam… I just wanted to be close to you. If you hate the idea that much, fine. I won’t move in.” Guy shot her a sympathetic look before turning his glare on me. “Look what you did. You broke her heart over nothing. She is a young woman navigating the city alone, and she is your blood. Can you stop being so selfish for one second?” “Who is looking out for me?” I raised my chin, meeting his angry stare. “You got her a high paying job at your firm. She has zero worries. What do I have? I only have—” “Enough.” Guy’s tone turned ice cold. He took another step toward me, towering over my space. “Be reasonable. I only went out of my way to take care of her because of you. Do you really need to be this petty?” Petty. A hollow laugh escaped my throat. I pressed my lips together and stopped talking. Brittney gently tugged at his sleeve. “Guy, stop. She is probably just stressed about the wedding.” He patted her hand, his voice instantly softening. “Adam, I have already made the call. Brittney moving in is a good thing. You two won’t have to be separated.” I nodded slowly. Whatever. It was their house anyway. I wasn’t going to live in it. Guy exhaled, looking relieved. Brittney wiped a stray tear and offered him a fragile smile. I turned my back to them and walked into my bedroom to pack. From the living room, I heard Brittney’s voice chime again. “Can I really get the pink curtains?” Guy chuckled softly. “Whatever you want.” That afternoon, I drove to Guy’s corporate headquarters. Inside my leather tote bag was his security badge, his office keys, and a stack of client portfolios he had asked me to organize for him. The receptionist at the front desk beamed when she saw me. “Hi Adam! Let me buzz Mr. Vance and let him know you are here.” “No need,” I said, placing the heavy stack of items on the marble counter. “Just make sure he gets these.” I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit. As I passed the glass doors of the stairwell, I heard Guy’s voice echoing from the landing below. I slowed my pace. “Saturday? To go get your nails done?” My fingers went numb. A second later, his voice drifted up, laced with easy amusement. “I know, I know. You want to look perfect for the wedding. I will go with you. I will smooth things over with your sister.” I let out a bitter breath. I had already decided to walk away. Why was I still expecting him to do the right thing? We had a promise. Before we got married, we were going to drive up to the mountains and watch the sunrise together. It was a date we planned years ago but never managed to pull off. He promised me last winter. Then he delayed it to spring. Then he pushed it to the week before the wedding. We finally locked in this Saturday. And now, he was canceling on me again. To watch Brittney get a manicure. I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I pushed through the revolving doors, got into my car, and drove straight out of the city, heading back to my rural hometown. The next morning, I was sweeping the front porch when Aunt Sarah walked up the driveway. “Adam, honey, put the broom down and rest.” I shook my head and told her I was almost done. Aunt Sarah grabbed my hands and squeezed them tight. “You have suffered so much playing the responsible older sister,” she sighed, her eyes filled with years of unspoken pity. “Brittney was adopted, yes, but you treated her like your own flesh and blood. You gave up everything for her, and that girl just took and took without an ounce of gratitude.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “The whole family sees it. We just didn’t want to stir the pot and make things harder for you. But it’s over now. You are finally getting married. You are getting your own life.” I offered a polite smile and changed the subject. A little while later, I looked at her. “Aunt Sarah, you and Uncle Thomas should move into this house. It will fall apart if it sits empty.” She blinked in confusion. “Empty? You are getting married, but you will still come back to visit.” She chuckled. “I know you and Guy have that massive house in the city, but you still need a place to sleep when you come home for the holidays.” I just nodded, but I firmly pressed the spare keys into her palm. She thought I was just being generous. She tried to refuse, but I didn’t explain. I just knew that once I left this time, it would be years before I ever came back. As evening approached, Guy arrived to fulfill the traditional pre-wedding visit to the bride’s family. Brittney was practically skipping behind him. When they saw me sitting on the porch, they both froze. “Adam, what are you doing here?” His tone made it sound like I was trespassing. But I was the bride. I was at my uncle’s house. Where else was I supposed to be? Oh, right. He was used to it. It didn’t matter if I was there. As long as Brittney was with him, everything was fine. Brittney recovered quickly and looped her arm through mine. “Adam, perfect timing! Guy said he needed to visit Uncle Thomas, and I had nothing better to do, so I tagged along.” I didn’t respond. Brittney hated this small town. She avoided coming back at all costs. Yet here she was, days before the wedding. I didn’t know if she was here to support me, or for another reason entirely. It didn’t matter anymore. Inside the house, Uncle Thomas poured tea and chatted with Guy. Brittney sat right next to Guy. She poured his refills, laughed at his jokes, and chimed into the conversation effortlessly. I sat in the corner like an old piece of furniture. Nobody looked at me. I glanced down at my phone. Guy had sent me a text. “I have been swamped with wedding prep these last two days, sorry if I neglected you. But why did you run off to your hometown without telling me?” Neglected me? His tone sounded more like a scolding. Like I was being immature for disappearing. He was constantly active in the group chat, but he rarely texted me directly. He rarely asked if I had eaten, what I was doing, or if I was happy. That was why he didn’t know I went to his office. He didn’t know I left the city. He didn’t know, because he never bothered to ask. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I typed two words. “Stay busy.” Whatever he was busy with had nothing to do with me anyway. The visit wrapped up. Uncle Thomas stood up to walk them to the door. He clapped Guy on the shoulder. “According to our town’s tradition, it is bad luck to see the bride three days before the wedding. Don’t come looking for Adam until the ceremony. We want a blessed marriage.” Guy nodded respectfully. Uncle Thomas turned to me. “Adam, pack your bags and ride back to the city with them. You should prep at your apartment so there is no rushing on the big day. We will see you at the post wedding brunch.” I wanted to say no, but the earnest look in his eyes stopped me. I swallowed my refusal. I walked back into my bedroom to grab my suitcase and double check the drawers. When I finally rolled my luggage out to the front yard, Guy’s car was already gone. I stood in the empty driveway for a few seconds. My phone buzzed. A text from Guy. “Brittney was anxious to go check out the floral arrangements at the venue, so I took her. I honestly forgot you were there. Just drive your own car back.” Forgot. Guy, how could you forget me again? I dragged my suitcase down the dirt road to the highway and ordered an Uber. The wedding was scheduled for Monday. Guy glanced at the GPS on his dashboard and turned to Brittney. “Are you sure this is the right hotel to pick up the bride?” “Positive. I sent the address to my sister days ago.” “This place is high end, and it is closer to the venue. Picking her up here makes way more sense than navigating the traffic to her tiny apartment,” Guy reasoned. “You always handle things perfectly,” he added. “Unlike your sister. She is like a brick wall. Uncle Thomas mentioned the superstition about not seeing each other, and she actually took it seriously. She hasn’t replied to a single text for three days.” Guy pulled up to the grand entrance. Brittney hopped out of the passenger seat effortlessly. “Let’s go. She is probably pacing the floor waiting for us.” Noah jogged up behind them, his heavy camera bouncing against his chest. “Brittney, you are supposed to ride with me today. The passenger seat is for the bride.” “No way,” Brittney teased, sticking her tongue out at him. “Guy drives smoother. I get carsick in your jeep.” Guy shook his head with an affectionate smile. “You are impossible.” They walked into the luxurious hotel lobby. Guy led the charge to the front desk, Brittney right beside him. Noah automatically lifted his camera, snapping candid shots of them walking together. The receptionist offered a polished smile. “Good morning. How can I help you?” “We are here for the bride,” Guy said smoothly. “Room 302. Under the name Adam.” The receptionist typed quietly on her keyboard. She frowned and checked the screen again. She looked up. “I apologize, sir. We do not have anyone checked in under that name.”

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1 My husband has hyperthymesia. He possesses a highly superior autobiographical memory. He can recall the exact weather of a random Tuesday twenty years ago, but he has forgotten my birthday for five consecutive years. Whenever I brought it up, he would give me a blank look. “Is it coming up? Next week?” My birthday was last week. I used to joke with my best friend Sasha that even a genius brain had its glitches. Until the day I was cleaning his study. I found a folder on his desktop named “Health Tracker.” I opened it. It was completely filled with the personal data of a woman named Piper. Her menstrual cycle was tracked to the exact decimal point. The average was 29.3 days. Her cramp severity was marked with a red star. Level three, requires painkillers and a heating pad. Her ovulation window was highlighted in bright red, with a note written right next to it. She gets emotionally sensitive these days. Watch your tone. The last update was logged exactly three days ago. I knew Piper. She was his gym buddy. They went to lift weights together every Wednesday. I sat on the hardwood floor of his study and read through all thirty seven pages of logs. Thirty seven months. He never missed a single month. His hyperthymesia had absolutely no glitches. The only glitch was my place in his heart. I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw a fit. I didn’t even cry. I simply decided to vanish on the very next date he was destined to forget. … “You touched my computer?” Drew stood in the doorway of the study, a damp gym towel in his hand. The air smelled faintly of coconut water. It was Piper’s favorite post workout drink. I tossed my cleaning rag into the bucket and stood up. “I was wiping the desk and bumped the mouse.” Drew frowned slightly. He took a few quick strides to the computer and glanced at the monitor. I had already reverted the screen back to the locked desktop. He quietly let out a sigh of relief. His tone immediately shifted back to his usual casual arrogance. “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch things in my office?” “If you lose some of my data, you cannot afford to replace it.” I stared at the side of his face. Those thirty seven pages of menstrual logs were certainly precious. Precious enough that he needed to verify the decimals perfectly. I didn’t say a word. I picked up the water bucket and walked out. As I passed the living room, the smart home speaker on the TV stand suddenly lit up with a blue ring. The mechanical female voice echoed loudly in the quiet room. “Linked account ‘Piper’ syncing smartwatch data.” “Current heart rate 120. You are in the fat burn zone.” “Estimated arrival in the basement parking garage in ten minutes.” I stopped in my tracks. Drew walked out of the study, drying his hair with the towel while looking right at me. “Her car is in the shop, so I gave her a ride back,” he said. “She is just grabbing a few clean gym outfits and then she will leave.” He explained it so naturally. There was absolutely no panic in his eyes. It was as if the smart speaker wasn’t announcing the biometric data of another woman, but rather giving the local weather forecast. I turned around and looked at him. “Even the backend of our smart home system is linked to her watch?” Drew paused his towel drying. “We work out together. Sharing data just keeps us accountable.” “Hazel, please stop obsessing over trivial nonsense all day. If you actually hit the gym, I would link yours too.” I let out a soft laugh. Last month, my blood sugar plummeted and I passed out on the kitchen floor. When I finally woke up, I asked him if we could add me as an emergency contact on the smart home hub. He told me the system was too cluttered and prone to false alarms. He told me to just take better care of my own body. But now, Piper’s heart rate simply goes up a fraction, and the entire house announces her arrival. “No need,” I said, looking away. Drew seemed very satisfied with my calm reaction. He walked over and sat on the couch. “What are we having for dinner? Piper mentioned she wants a lean meal tonight. Just boil some chicken breast for her.” “Add extra black pepper. Her appetite hasn’t been great lately.” My fingers tightened their grip on the rim of the plastic bucket. A specific annotation from those thirty seven pages flashed into my mind. Day three of ovulation. Appetite decreases. Add heavy spices to her meals. So his hyperthymesia wasn’t just used to memorize dates. It was used to turn him into her personal caretaker. “I didn’t buy chicken,” I said. Drew frowned. “Isn’t there some left in the fridge?” “It expired. I threw it out.” His face darkened instantly. “Hazel, what exactly is your problem lately?” “Piper is just coming over for a quick dinner. Do you really need to give us attitude?” “Are you still throwing a tantrum and finding reasons to start drama just because I forgot your birthday last month?” I looked at his self righteous face. It had been five years. Every single time he forgot my birthday, he would gaslight me to cover up his own guilt. I used to feel wronged. I used to argue. Now, I was just completely exhausted. The doorbell rang. Drew kept a cold expression as he walked over to open the door. Piper stood in the hallway wearing a skin tight yoga set, holding two cups of iced milk tea. “Hey Hazel, sorry for crashing your night!” She smiled sweetly. There was a thin layer of glistening sweat on her forehead. “Drew told me you make the best healthy dinners, so I shamelessly came over to beg for food.” Drew took the drinks from her hands. “She didn’t cook anything. She said she threw the chicken out.” Piper blinked in surprise, but the look she shot me contained a very clear hint of knowing triumph. “Oh no, is Hazel mad at me?” “I told you, Drew! If you spend every day lifting weights with me, your wife is going to get jealous.” She playfully swatted Drew on the shoulder. “This is all your fault. You only remember my stats, but you can’t even keep track of the groceries in your own fridge.” Drew didn’t show a single ounce of annoyance at her physical touch. He turned to look at me, his tone shifting into a direct command. “Go downstairs to the supermarket and buy some right now. It is still open.” I set the water bucket down on the floor. A few drops splashed onto my slippers. “If you want to eat, buy it yourself.” Drew looked utterly furious. Piper immediately grabbed his arm to hold him back. “Never mind, never mind. Drew, let’s just order delivery.” “Hazel must be so tired from doing chores around the house all day. Let’s not force her.” She deliberately emphasized the word “chores.” In her mind, I was just a woman with no identity. I was just a live in maid meant to serve Drew. Drew let out a cold scoff. “What is she tired from? She sits around the house all day and can’t even manage a simple dinner.” I watched them standing in the entryway. They looked exactly like a married couple sharing an inside joke. I turned around and walked toward the bedroom. “Do whatever you want.” Early the next morning, I received a call from the hospital. My father’s attending doctor told me the next round of his targeted therapy medication needed to be paid for. Four thousand dollars. I opened my banking app, ready to use the joint debit card linked to our shared emergency fund. We usually kept our finances separate. We only touched this specific account for major family emergencies. I typed in the password. A notification popped up on the screen. Insufficient funds. I froze. I clicked into the transaction history. Yesterday afternoon at three o’clock, someone swiped exactly four thousand and five hundred dollars. The vendor was a high end outdoor sports boutique. I stared at the screen for a very long time. My chest felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. It was so heavy I couldn’t breathe. I dialed Drew’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. The background noise was loud. The distinct clanking of heavy iron plates. “What is it?” he asked, his voice slightly out of breath. “Where is the money from our emergency fund?” I asked. The line went quiet for a second. “Oh. Piper has a trail running race next month. Her gear needed a major upgrade.” “She is tight on cash right now, so I fronted it for her.” The knuckles of the hand gripping my phone turned completely white. “Drew, that is my dad’s medical money.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Why are you calling it medical money? Your dad’s condition is chronic. A few days won’t make a difference.” “Piper’s race is next week. The gear cannot wait.” “I will put the money back next week when my bonus hits. Why are you panicking?” I listened to his casual, dismissive tone. My father’s life saving medication was somehow less important than a set of trail running gear for his gym buddy. “Transfer the money back to me.” My voice was quiet, but absolutely rigid. “Right now.” Drew lost his temper. “Hazel, do you not understand English?” “I said I will put it back in a few days. Do you have to ruin the mood right now?” “Piper is standing right next to me. Can you give me a little bit of respect?” Before I could say another word, Piper’s voice drifted through the speaker. “Drew, is that Hazel?” “Oh my gosh, please don’t fight with her. I told you I didn’t need you to cover it. Hazel is going to get the wrong idea.” “Hazel, please don’t be mad. Treat this as a loan. I will pay you back as soon as I finish the race and win the prize money.” Her words sounded so reasonable on the surface. But every single syllable was designed to show off the fact that Drew was willing to drop thousands of dollars on her without a second thought. Drew immediately chimed in. “Don’t listen to her, Piper. She is probably just hitting early menopause. Always starting drama over nothing.” He hung up. The phone line went dead, leaving only the dial tone echoing in my ear. I stood in the hospital corridor, looking out the window at the gloomy, overcast sky. I took a deep breath and paid for the medication using my private savings account. That money was supposed to cover my half of the mortgage next month. After paying the bill, I walked into the hospital room. My mother was peeling an apple for my dad. She quickly stood up when she saw me. “Hazel, honey. Why are you here today? Where is Drew?” “He is busy at work.” I forced a smile onto my face. My dad lay in the bed, his face pale and sunken. “Drew works hard. You need to be understanding. It is not easy for a man to build a career.” “As long as you two are happy, I have nothing to worry about.” I looked into my dad’s cloudy, tired eyes. My throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. “I know, Dad.” I stayed at the hospital for the entire afternoon before taking the subway home. I pushed the front door open. The living room lights were blazing. Drew was sitting on the couch playing a video game. Piper was wearing a brand new, elite trail running outfit. She was posing in front of the full length floor mirror, taking selfies with her phone. It was the exact gear paid for by my father’s medical money. When Piper saw me walk in, she lowered her phone and walked over with a bright smile. “Hey Hazel! How is your dad doing?” “Drew said older people are prone to minor aches and pains, and told me not to stress too much about it.” I stared at the gear she was wearing. Premium fabric. A perfectly tailored fit. “Take it off,” I said flatly. The air in the living room instantly froze. Drew threw his controller onto the couch and stood up, walking toward us. “Hazel, what kind of crazy episode are you having now?” I didn’t even look at him. I kept my eyes locked on Piper. “That outfit was bought using my emergency debit card. Take it off.” Piper’s face shifted. She instinctively took a step back, hiding behind Drew’s shoulder. “Drew, what does she mean?” “Does she just hate looking at me?” Drew immediately shielded Piper behind his back. “Hazel, stop embarrassing yourself.” “My money is in that joint account too. I can spend it on whoever I want.” “You eat my food and live in my house, and now you are nickel and diming me?” I stared into his completely self righteous eyes. Every single month, I deposited exactly half of my paycheck into that account. I paid the down payment on this house. We split the mortgage equally. Yet in his mind, I was just a freeloader eating his food and living under his roof. “Drew, did your hyperthymesia make you forget your conscience too?” His face went rigid. He raised his hand, pointing a finger right at my face. Piper quickly reached out and pushed his arm down. “Stop arguing, please! This is all my fault.” “Hazel, I will just give the clothes back to you. Please don’t be mad at Drew.” She reached for the zipper of the jacket. Drew grabbed her hand to stop her. “Do not take it off. I want to see who dares to touch you today.” He turned his head, glaring at me with pure venom. “Hazel, you need to learn your place.” After that night, Drew initiated a one sided cold war for three days. He didn’t speak a word to me. He even slept in the study. On the afternoon of the fourth day, I was out on the balcony bringing the laundry in. He walked through the front door, holding a glossy, premium jewelry catalog in his hand. He walked up behind me and tossed the thick booklet onto the coffee table. “This necklace suits her, don’t you think?” I stopped folding the clothes and turned around. The catalog was opened to a specific page. It displayed a gorgeous, five figure diamond necklace. Tomorrow was our fifth wedding anniversary. For a split second, my mind played a trick on me. I genuinely thought he had finally remembered the date, even if his delivery was still incredibly arrogant. “It’s alright,” I said quietly. Drew nodded in satisfaction. “Piper’s trail race finishes tomorrow. She said she is aiming for a top spot on the podium.” “This is her victory gift. She has a long, elegant neck. It will look beautiful on her.” The hand holding the plastic hanger froze in midair. The warmth drained out of my fingertips. An icy chill rushed through my veins, settling deep into my heart. It wasn’t an anniversary gift. It was Piper’s victory reward. I looked at Drew. His head was down, carefully studying the carat weight of the diamond on the page. “Drew, do you have any idea what tomorrow is?” I asked. He didn’t even look up. “Piper’s victory dinner. The race finishes at two in the afternoon. I booked a table at that upscale steakhouse for four.” “Oh, right. Just figure out your own dinner at home. I won’t be back to eat.” He said it so casually. His hyperthymesia allowed him to remember the weather twenty years ago. It allowed him to perfectly track Piper’s menstrual cycle. But it completely erased the day we signed our marriage license. “Okay,” I said. Drew finally looked up at me. He seemed slightly surprised that I wasn’t throwing a tantrum this time. “Glad you finally learned how to behave. I will transfer that money back to your card in a couple of days.” “Stop staring at the bank accounts like a miserable housewife.” He picked up the catalog and walked back into his study. I stood on the balcony, watching the pedestrians strolling along the sidewalk below. The wind blowing against my face carried the sharp chill of late autumn. I turned around, walked into the bedroom, and pulled a small, twenty inch black suitcase from the bottom of the closet. I unzipped it. The inside was completely empty. I started placing things inside, one by one. Two sets of clean clothes. A few basic skincare items. My passport and ID. I picked up my jewelry box. Inside sat the two carat diamond ring Drew bought me when he proposed. He had said, “Hazel, my memory is too perfect. So I am going to carve my promise to you into my brain, and I will never, ever forget.” I looked at the ring, then gently snapped the velvet lid shut. I left it right there on the vanity. I didn’t need it anymore. By the time I finished, the suitcase was barely half full. After five years of marriage, this was the only amount of life I was taking with me. That night, Drew came out of the study to get a glass of water. When he saw me sitting quietly on the couch, he frowned. “Why are you acting so weird and passive aggressive these last few days?” “I am just buying Piper a necklace. She works hard to survive in this city on her own.” “You are my wife. Can’t you be a little more gracious about this?” I didn’t look up at him. “I am not being ungracious.” Drew scoffed. The phone in his pocket vibrated. He immediately pulled it out. The glow of the screen illuminated a subtle, genuine smile spreading across his lips. I didn’t know what Piper texted him, but he didn’t even bother drinking his water. He turned right around and hurried back into the study. Early the next morning. Drew put on his bespoke gray suit. It was the suit he reserved exclusively for meeting his most vital corporate clients. Today, he was wearing it to attend Piper’s victory lunch. He stood in the entryway putting on his dress shoes. “I am heading out. Don’t wait up for me tonight.” I stood in the center of the living room, staring at his back. “Drew,” I called out. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes flashing with raw impatience. “What now?” “Take the trash out on your way down,” I said. He paused, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Hazel, you are completely out of your mind.” But he still picked up the black trash bag sitting by the door. The front door slammed shut. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Eight in the morning. I walked into the bedroom and grabbed the handle of my black suitcase. I placed my house keys on the glass coffee table, right underneath that glossy jewelry catalog. I took one final look around the apartment I had lived in for five years. “Make sure you lock the door.” I whispered the words to myself in my mind. At eleven in the morning, I pulled my suitcase into the hospital. My dad had just finished his IV drip. He looked slightly more energetic. My mom jumped in surprise when she saw me rolling a piece of luggage into the room. “Hazel? What is going on? Why do you have a suitcase?” I pushed the suitcase behind the door and forced a bright smile onto my face. “The company is sending me on a business trip out of state for a few days. It was super last minute, so I just dropped by to see you guys before heading to the airport.” My mom looked skeptical. “A business trip? Does Drew know?” “Yeah, he knows. He is just slammed at work today, so he couldn’t drop me off.” I sat down on the edge of the bed and gently held my dad’s frail, thin hand. “Dad, make sure you take your medicine. The doctor said if we stick to the plan, your levels will drop.” My dad nodded with a weak, laboured breath. “Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself. Since you are traveling, remember to eat on time.” A sharp, painful ache hit the back of my throat. I fought back the tears. I pulled a bank card out of my purse and pressed it into my mother’s hand. “Mom, there is fifteen thousand dollars on this card. The pin is my birthday.” “Keep it. Use it for Dad’s medical bills and whatever supplements he needs. Don’t be stingy with it.” My mother desperately tried to push the card back. “What are you doing? Your father and I have our pensions. We don’t need your money.” “You and Drew have a life to build. Things are expensive. Take it back right now.” I forcefully shoved the card into her coat pocket. “Mom, I earned this money myself. It has absolutely nothing to do with Drew.” “Keep it. It makes me feel safe knowing you have it.” I stayed at the hospital until one in the afternoon. Terrified that if I stayed a minute longer I would break down crying, I made up an excuse and left. Sitting in the back of a taxi heading to the airport, I watched the familiar city streets blurring past the window. My phone vibrated in my palm. It was a screenshot of an Instagram post, sent to me by a mutual friend. In the photo, Piper was wearing that pristine trail running outfit. Resting beautifully against her collarbone was the five figure diamond necklace. She was smiling radiantly. Drew stood right beside her, looking down at her with absolute, undivided focus. The caption read: The ultimate race reward. Thanks to my perfect partner. @Drew In the comments section, Drew had replied with a red heart emoji. I stared at that photo. That look of total devotion used to belong exclusively to me. Now, it had found a new owner. I closed the app and powered my phone completely off. The airport intercom began broadcasting the final boarding call for my flight. I scanned my ticket, walked through security, and didn’t look back once. In this tragic three person movie, I was always cast as the extra. Today, I was voluntarily writing myself out of the script. The moment the plane lifted off the runway, I looked down at the shrinking city below. A single tear finally rolled down my cheek. I cried for the five years of my youth, and the pieces of my heart I had blindly thrown to the dogs.

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1 Three days before the wedding, Blake Foster replaced every invitation. The bride’s name changed from Vivian Shaw to Lucia Lane. Lucia Lane. The woman who had abandoned him alone outside an operating room three years ago, signed a breakup agreement, and left the country. I thought I had misread it. I checked three times. Blake stood by the door, his eyes red, his voice calm. “She has late-stage brain cancer. Four months, at most.” “She said the greatest regret of her life was never getting to wear a wedding dress with me.” “Vivian, I just want someone who’s dying to leave this world in peace. After the wedding, I’ll come back.” I pointed at the newly printed invitations, my voice trembling. “So you’re using our wedding, our hotel, and my guests to marry another woman?” He was silent for a long time. In the end, he said only one sentence. “You wouldn’t understand. She skipped surgery for me. That’s why it progressed to late-stage.” I stopped speaking. I watched him take the wedding rings from the pocket of my gown. After he left, I stood alone in the empty room for a long time. Finally, I redesigned the invitation. Only this time, the groom’s name was no longer his. … “Vivian, replace the mattress in the master bedroom. Lucia can’t sleep on anything this firm.” Blake’s voice came from the bedroom, matter-of-fact and faintly impatient. I locked the freshly printed new invitations into the study drawer. Then I walked to the master bedroom door. Several movers were struggling to drag out the mattress I had custom-ordered from Italy half a year ago. Blake had severe neurasthenia. To help him sleep better, I compared more than a dozen brands before choosing this one with the strongest support. Now it had been casually dumped in the hallway, covered in dust. Lucia leaned against the bay window. Her face was indeed pale, but there was a careless smile tugging at her mouth. “Vivian, I’m so sorry.” She coughed twice and pressed a hand to her chest, gasping. “My body is getting worse. If the bed is even a little firm, my bones hurt so badly I can’t stand it.” “I’ll have to trouble you for a few days. Once I’m dead, this wedding home will still be yours.” Blake immediately walked over and patted her back with practiced familiarity, his eyes full of distress. “Don’t say that. The doctor said if you rest properly, you can still live a few more months.” Then he turned to me, his tone instantly cold. “Vivian Shaw, why are you standing there? Come help.” I looked at the way he protected Lucia and found it almost funny. Three days ago, he had been holding my waist on that bed, talking about our honeymoon. Now, he wanted to place another woman in our wedding home. Even on our wedding bed. I stepped forward and helped the movers push the old mattress out with one hand. “No need to replace the mattress.” I looked at Blake calmly. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.” Blake froze for a second, as if he hadn’t expected me to be so easy to deal with. In his imagination, I should have argued with him like yesterday, demanding to know why he was destroying our wedding. But now, I only felt tired. A flash of triumph passed through Lucia’s eyes. Then she quickly put on a frightened expression. “How can that be? Vivian, this is your wedding home. How can I take the master bedroom?” “Blake, I should go. I’ll just make do under a bridge for a few days. Don’t hurt your relationship because of me.” As she spoke, she pretended to walk out, only for her body to go weak and fall toward Blake. Blake hurriedly caught her, then turned and glared at me. “Vivian Shaw, can’t you be a little more generous?” “Lucia is already this sick. Who are you showing that cold face to?” “She missed surgery back then because of you.” Because of me? Three years ago, Blake had been in a car accident and needed a blood transfusion. Lucia took the two-million-dollar check from the Lane family and flew abroad overnight. She never mentioned surgery. I was the one who donated almost more blood than legally allowed and stayed by him for three days and nights. Now, with one sentence about missing treatment for him, Lucia had cleansed herself into the tragic heroine. And I, the one who had truly saved him, had become the villain. “I’m not showing any face.” I looked at Blake, my voice without a ripple. “She can have the master bedroom. I’ll go pack.” With that, I stopped looking at them and went straight into the walk-in closet to take out my suitcase. I didn’t have many clothes. Two cases were packed quickly. After settling Lucia, Blake came in and saw the suitcases on the floor. His brows tightened. “What are you doing? Packing this much? Are you moving out?” “Just some clutter. It won’t fit in the guest room.” I gave a casual answer. He looked at me suspiciously for a moment, then sighed and came over, trying to take my hand. “Vivian, I know this is unfair to you.” “But Lucia really is pitiful. She has no family in the country.” “After the wedding is over, I’ll take her to a care facility. Then you and I can get our marriage certificate. Okay?” I avoided his hand and zipped the suitcase shut. Marriage certificate? He probably forgot that our original registration date was tomorrow. “Do whatever you want.” I pulled the suitcase toward the door. Blake called after me. “Don’t forget tomorrow’s fitting. Lucia couldn’t reserve a suitable gown, so let her borrow yours first.” My steps stopped. That wedding gown was designed by me, for the purpose of marrying him. I had drawn the design myself and found a tailor to stitch it by hand, one needle at a time. I turned back and looked at his righteous face. “Fine.” After leaving the apartment, I threw my luggage into the trunk. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I dialed a number. The call connected after two rings. A steady, clear male voice came through. “What? Miss Shaw finally decided to check up on me?” I leaned wearily against the seat and closed my eyes. “Warren, are you ready for the wedding the day after tomorrow?” Warren let out a soft laugh on the other end. “As long as the groom isn’t anyone but me, I’m ready anytime.” “But I need to make sure, Vivian. You’re not using me to get back at Blake, are you?” I opened my eyes and looked at my exhausted face in the rearview mirror. “No.” “The invitations have already been sent to all core guests. Pullman Hall, top floor of the hotel.” Warren was silent for two seconds. When he spoke again, his tone was serious. “All right. I’ll be there on time.” After hanging up, I drove to the couture bridal salon downtown. This was where we had originally agreed to do the fitting. As soon as I pushed open the glass door, I heard Blake’s impatient voice. “Why is the waist so tight? Did you measure the size wrong?” The sales associate was anxious and sweating. “Mr. Foster, these were the measurements Miss Shaw gave six months ago. Perhaps you’ve become… slightly more muscular recently.” Blake was wearing the hand-tailored main suit that had taken half a year to make. The hem was embroidered with subtle, exquisite patterns. It should have fit his body perfectly. Now the buttons were stuck at his abdomen, looking a little ridiculous. Lucia walked out of the fitting room in the couture gown that originally belonged to me. The gown was obviously a size too large on her, hanging loosely from her shoulders. But as she looked at herself in the mirror, the greed in her eyes could not be hidden. “Blake, Vivian’s gown is really made from beautiful fabric. It’s just too big.” She walked toward Blake and reached for his arm, but accidentally stepped on the train. Rip. A soft tearing sound. A length of lace at the back of the gown was torn open. The sales associate gasped and covered her mouth. Blake froze too. Lucia immediately pulled back her foot, lowering her head with guilt all over her face. “I’m sorry, Blake. I’m dizzy. I couldn’t stand properly.” “Was this gown very expensive? I’ll pay you back… but I don’t have money on me right now…” As she spoke, her eyes reddened. Blake held her hand with distress and glared at the sales associate. “What are you screaming about? It’s just a little torn lace. Stitch it back up.” He turned to me as I walked over, his tone carrying an order. “Vivian, perfect timing.” “This suit is too tight and uncomfortable. Lucia’s gown is also too large.” “Have the salon rush the alterations. You pay first.” I quietly looked at the torn place. There, my and Blake’s initials had once been embroidered. For that small detail, I had called the designer overseas countless times. Now, it looked like a torn joke. “It can’t be altered.” My voice was calm. Blake’s brows furrowed deeper. “What do you mean it can’t be altered? Not even if we pay extra? Vivian, are you being stingy?” “Lucia is only getting married once. Can’t you let her look decent?” Looking at his aggressive expression, I suddenly felt he was unbearably unfamiliar. Three years of wholehearted devotion could not earn even a second of concern from him. “The fabric is a limited supply. There’s no extra material for alterations.” I walked to the sales associate and handed over a black card. “Pack the damaged gown and suit. I’m taking them.” Blake panicked and grabbed my arm. “If you take them, what are we wearing tomorrow?” “That suit was made according to my preferences. What right do you have to take it?” I shook off his hand and brushed the sleeve he had touched. “I paid for this suit in full. Since it doesn’t fit you, you don’t need to wear it.” “As for her…” I coldly glanced at the loose gown on Lucia. “She doesn’t deserve to wear my wedding dress. Take it off.” Lucia’s face instantly turned ugly. She looked at Blake with grievance. “Blake, is Vivian angry with me? I’ll take it off. At worst, I won’t wear a wedding dress tomorrow…” As she spoke, she began to unzip the back. Her hands trembled as if she might faint at any moment. Blake was completely enraged. He stepped in front of Lucia. “Vivian Shaw, are you crazy? Do you have to embarrass us in front of strangers?” “It’s just a stupid wedding dress. Lucia wearing it is giving you face.” “If you dare take the gown away today, this wedding is off.” He was certain I wouldn’t dare. For three years, whenever he used breaking up as a threat, I always gave in. I watched the associate place the damaged gown into a garment bag. Taking it, I turned without hesitation and walked out. “Fine.” I left him with my back. “Then it’s off.” Behind me came Blake’s disbelieving roar. “Vivian Shaw! If you walk out that door, don’t ever expect me to beg you to come back.” I opened the door and did not look back. Once in the car, I tossed the wedding gown onto the passenger seat. I took a photo and sent it to Warren. “Warren, the size needs some adjustment. Tailor it to your measurements.” Very soon, a reply popped up. Vivian, remember to switch the lead wedding car to a Maybach tomorrow. Lucia isn’t used to riding in a Rolls-Royce. Looking at Blake’s message, I almost laughed from anger. He truly mistook my patience for permission to trample me. I did not reply. I locked the screen and started the car. Halfway down the road, Blake called. I put him on speaker. “Why aren’t you replying? Where are you?” His tone still carried that lofty interrogation. “Does it matter?” I looked at the red light ahead and stepped on the brake. “Of course it matters. Lucia said she was frightened just now and has a terrible headache.” “Go to the city hospital and book a specialist appointment for her. Get the imported medicine.” “And stop by the private kitchen in Eastside to pick up seafood porridge. She has no appetite.” I quietly listened to his absurd demands. Tomorrow was the wedding. As the woman who was supposed to be the bride, I should have been confirming the wedding process and comforting elders. Instead, my fiancé was ordering me to buy medicine and porridge for his first love. “I’m not going.” My voice was cold. Blake’s voice immediately rose. “Vivian Shaw, can’t you even do this one thing?” “Do you understand this could be life or death? If anything happens to Lucia, I’ll never forgive you.” “Which intersection are you at? I’ll send you the location. Go there right now.” I sneered. “Blake Foster, I’m your fiancée, not your hired caregiver.” “Whether she lives or dies has nothing to do with me.” There was a strange silence on the other end for two seconds. Then Blake’s voice came, suppressing anger. “Fine, Vivian. Very good.” “Do you think I can’t hold the wedding without you?” “Let me tell you. If you don’t show up at the church entrance on time tomorrow to greet guests, don’t expect to see me ever again.” With a snap, he hung up. Greet guests? He actually wanted me to be the reception attendant at Lucia’s wedding. I tossed my phone aside, turned the car around, and drove toward the Foster Group building. Warren’s office was on the top floor. When I pushed the door open, he was looking down at several documents. Hearing footsteps, he raised his head. A trace of a smile flashed in his deep eyes. “Bride-to-be. Here to inspect my work?” I tossed my car keys onto the coffee table and sat across from him. “Here to confirm tomorrow’s schedule.” Warren closed the file folder and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve arranged everything with the hotel. Security for Pullman Hall has also been replaced with my people.” “I guarantee not even one blind fly will get in.” He paused, gaze falling on my face. “What about Blake? Has he noticed yet?” I picked up the cold water on the table and took a sip. “His mind is full of Lucia’s brain tumor right now. He has no time for anything else.” As we spoke, my phone screen lit up. A message from Lucia. I opened it. It was a photo. Lucia sat on the wedding bed that had belonged to Blake and me, wearing that obviously oversized wedding gown. On the nightstand were my skincare products and custom cup. Caption: Borrowing everything from my sister. Thank you, Vivian, for your generosity. Blake says I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. Looking at the screen, nausea rose in my stomach. Warren noticed and walked over to glance at the screen. He let out a cold scoff. “For a cheap little drama queen like this, Blake must be blind to treat her like treasure.” “But I am curious. How does a woman with late-stage brain cancer and a headache so bad she’s dying have the energy to take such pretentious photos?” I exited the chat. I had already investigated Lucia’s illness. It was just a forged medical record bought for twenty thousand. But I did not expose it. When people are dancing on the edge of an abyss, they hate nothing more than being interrupted. I wanted Blake to fall from the highest place. “No need to bother with her.” I stood and smoothed my skirt. “I’ve arranged the motorcade for tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight in the morning.” Warren looked at me, then suddenly stepped forward and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Vivian, after tomorrow, you’ll have no way back.” “I know.” I looked into his eyes. “I never take the road back.” By the time I left Foster Group, the sky had gone completely dark. I returned to the hotel and checked into a suite. I had just showered when Blake’s messages came again. Not concern. Only command after command. “Vivian, don’t be late tomorrow morning.” “Lucia isn’t in good health and can’t stand for too long. You’ll need to handle the greeting and toasting process for her.” “Also, she has a lot of relatives. Give up your seat at the main table.” The morning of the wedding, the whole city was covered in a thin layer of fog. I changed into the brand-new couture handmade wedding gown Warren had prepared for me. The fit was perfect, without a single crease. Standing before the full-length mirror, I looked at the cool, elegant woman inside and fastened a pearl necklace around my neck. My phone was still vibrating wildly. When I opened the screen, dozens of messages nearly flooded the chat. All from Blake. “Vivian, where are you? Why aren’t you at the hotel yet?” “Lucia’s wedding dress is too big. Why didn’t you have it altered yesterday? Are you deliberately trying to embarrass her?” “Go replace the photo at the reception desk with one of me and Lucia. Hurry.” “Where the hell are you? Get over here and be Lucia’s bridesmaid.” Looking at those words, I found them absurd. Even now, he still believed I would come when called and leave when dismissed. That he could step on my dignity to satisfy his ridiculous “compassion.” I did not reply. I turned off my phone and left the suite. The Emerald Hall on the hotel’s second floor was the venue Blake had changed to at the last minute yesterday. Originally, I had booked the most luxurious Pullman Hall on the top floor. But Blake said Lucia was afraid of heights. He also said Pullman Hall was too large and made Lucia’s family look too few, not warm enough. I played along and gave him Emerald Hall. I kept Pullman Hall for myself. When I passed the entrance to Emerald Hall, I stopped. The doors were wide open. It was noisy inside. On the welcome sign, the words “Celebrating the Marriage of Lucia Lane and Blake Foster” stung my eyes. Although I had been prepared, seeing it in person still felt ironic. Several shabbily dressed aunties were gathered around the dessert table, stuffing macarons into their pockets without shame. Lucia wore the ill-fitting wedding dress and leaned against Blake, enjoying his concerned attention. “Vivian!” Lucia’s eyes were sharp. She was the first to see me at the door. She straightened, adjusted her veil, and strode toward me. The smugness on her lips could not be hidden. “You finally came. I thought you wouldn’t dare show up today.” She looked me up and down, her gaze flashing with jealousy when she saw my new wedding dress. Then she changed back to that fake smile. “Oh my, isn’t your gown a little too grand?” “People who don’t know might think you’re the bride.” She patted my shoulder and lowered her voice so only we could hear. “Vivian, thank you for lending me your husband.” “The man you raised for three years looks so handsome in formalwear. Tonight, I’ll experience him properly on your behalf.” I quietly watched her performance, my gaze like I was looking at a dead person. Blake also came running over. Seeing me, his brows tightened. His voice was full of reproach. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?” “Didn’t I tell you to pick up Lucia’s second uncle? He came by cab and complained the whole way.” “And why are you dressed like this? Trying to steal the spotlight? Hurry backstage and change. Just wear a normal dress.” I looked at the man I had loved for three years. For him, I gave up a chance to go abroad. For him, I cooked soup late at night. For him, I personally arranged every corner of the wedding home. Now, he wanted me to wear an ordinary dress and serve his first love. “No need.” I stepped back, avoiding the hand he reached out to pull me with. “I’m not staying here.” Blake froze. Then fury rushed up. “Vivian Shaw, what kind of fit are you throwing now? The wedding is about to start.” “You’re making trouble at this exact moment just to embarrass Lucia, aren’t you?” “I’m telling you, whether you want to or not, you will finish the process today.” Looking at his enraged face, I suddenly smiled. The smile did not reach my eyes. “Blake Foster, you seem to have misunderstood something.” I adjusted my gloves, my voice cold. “I didn’t come here to attend your wedding.” “I came to get married at my own.”

1 For three years, Jack was stationed in Antarctica. Each week, I packed and shipped him supplies, adjusting the checklist as polar temperatures dropped. Before every deployment, I asked to join the crew, but he always refused, citing strict station protocol. I said okay and let it go. That changed when Gary from logistics posted a group photo of Jack with a girl in a red Arc’teryx jacket, both smiling beneath the green aurora. I recognized her as Wandering Penguin Diary, a travel influencer. Her recent videos were all filmed in Antarctica. One showed Jack taking her to see the ice cap sunrise. When asked about clearance, she replied, The Captain gave me a VIP media pass, wink. In her latest reel, Jack gently steadied her wind-battered tripod, his voice soft as he adjusted her lighting. For three years, he had only ever spoken to me like a mission briefing. I unpacked the half-prepared supply box. I would use the thermal patches and beef jerky myself. I texted Gary to cancel the next shipment. Then I booked a Northern Lights expedition in Norway. If his South Pole had no room for a fiancé, I would see the aurora alone. … “Sierra, Stella just flew back to the States. Her old lease expired and she hasn’t found a new place yet, so she’s going to crash with us for a few days.” The front door swung open. Jack walked in, dragging a massive pastel pink suitcase behind him. Stella trailed right behind him. She was still wearing that same red hardshell jacket I had seen in her videos. “Hey Sierra, sorry to crash your place. The Captain insisted the partner hotels weren’t safe enough and dragged me all the way here.” Her eyes crinkled into those same smiling crescents. The blatant brag in her tone was impossible to miss. I closed the browser tab for the Tromsø aurora tour. I turned my head and looked at them. Jack parked the pink suitcase right in the middle of our living room. He smoothly reached into the shoe cabinet, pulled out a brand new pair of women’s house slippers, ripped off the tags, and dropped them at her feet. “Wear these. Your boots are going to give you blisters.” Those were the guest slippers I bought just two days ago. I hadn’t even worn them myself. I stayed seated on the couch. “How long is she staying?” Jack took off his coat and hung it up. “Just until she finds a new apartment. Probably two weeks.” “She draws a salary from her agency. The Polar Institute also provides corporate housing.” “She came back early specifically for the Institute’s outreach project. It is official business. Having her here makes it easier for me to coordinate the workflow.” His tone was totally clinical, like he was delivering a quarterly report. I just stared at him. Three years. Every conversation we had sounded exactly like this. “The research station doesn’t host family members. It is strictly against protocol.” That was his excuse when he refused to let me visit him. Now, he was dragging a non-family influencer right into our living room. “Whatever.” I looked away and stood up to head to the master bedroom. “Sierra.” He stopped me. “Help Stella set up the guest room. Put on some fresh sheets. She has trouble sleeping in new places, so use the pure cotton set.” I stopped in my tracks. I turned around and looked him dead in the eye. “I am not your maid.” Jack’s brows knitted together. “What is your problem today? You used to be so welcoming when we had guests.” “I know the difference between a guest and a stranger.” Stella immediately grabbed Jack’s sleeve and gave it a gentle tug. “Captain, please don’t fight with Sierra because of me. I really should just book a hotel. I can handle it myself.” She reached for the handle of her pink suitcase. Jack clamped his hand over hers. “Stop being ridiculous. You are staying here.” He turned back to me, a flicker of raw impatience in his eyes. “Sierra, Stella has been freezing in Antarctica for three months. Her immune system is wrecked. Stop being so petty over every little thing.” I was being petty. I looked down and let out a dry laugh. “Fine. Make yourselves at home.” I walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. Through the drywall, I could hear their hushed voices. “Is Sierra mad at me?” “No, she just gets in these moods. Ignore her.” “Captain, could you help me get my tripod out? I need to wipe down the lenses.” “Sure, which pocket?” “The side compartment.” His voice was so soft. So gentle. Exactly like the voiceover in the video. I opened my closet. I took all the heavy-duty barrier creams and thermal patches meant for the South Pole and shoved them into the very bottom storage bin. Then I pulled out my own suitcase and laid it flat on the floor. My flight to the Arctic Circle was exactly fourteen days away. Right around the time Stella said she would be moving out. I started tossing clothes into the suitcase. One sweater. Two sweaters. The door suddenly cracked open. Jack stood in the doorway holding an empty glass. “Do we have any antacids left?” His eyes swept over the open suitcase on the floor. He paused. “Why are you packing?” “Switching out my seasonal clothes.” I smoothly folded two more thick sweaters and tucked them inside without missing a beat. “Stella is having stomach cramps. Her eating habits got messed up on the ice cap.” He sounded genuinely distressed for her. “Could you go make her a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup? She hasn’t eaten anything solid all day.” My hands stopped moving. “Jack.” “Yeah?” “You have chronic stomach issues too. Tell me, how many flare-ups have you had in Antarctica over the past three years?” He clearly was not expecting that question. “Occasionally, I guess. Why?” “Nothing.” I snapped the suitcase shut. He had absolutely no idea. The reason he never had a flare-up in three years was because I mailed him his specific prescription antacids and gut-lining powders like clockwork every single week. And now here he was. Ordering me to cook for another woman’s stomach ache. “Meds are in the second drawer of the TV console. The noodles are in the pantry. Make it yourself.” I zipped up the suitcase. Jack’s face darkened. “Sierra, since when did you become so cold?” Cold. I looked at him. “How warm do you want me to be? You brought her home. She is your responsibility, not mine.” “She is my teammate!” “A teammate who needs the Captain to personally bring her into his fiancée’s home to nurse her?” “You are being completely unreasonable.” He slammed the door shut. Through the wood, I heard him walk back out to the living room. “Stella, she is not feeling well. How about I order you some oatmeal from that place downtown?” “It’s okay, Captain. I’m not really hungry. Please don’t go out of your way.” “Absolutely not. Your stomach will act up again. Let me see what’s open on UberEats.” I sat down on the rug. I looked at the flight confirmation text that had just popped up on my phone screen. Fourteen days until departure. A little while later, clattering noises echoed from the kitchen. Jack was actually cooking. A man who couldn’t tell a scallion from a garlic clove was navigating a stove for Stella. I opened the door to go get a glass of water. I walked out just in time to see him setting a steaming bowl of noodles on the dining table. A perfectly golden fried egg sat on top. Stella was sitting at the table, resting her chin in her hands. Her eyes were practically sparkling. “Thank you so much, Captain. I had no idea you could cook.” “Just threw something together. Eat it while it’s hot.” He pulled out the chair across from her and handed her a pair of forks. I walked past them with my empty glass. Jack caught sight of me. “There is more in the pot if you want some.” “Pass. Smells greasy.” I filled my glass with tap water and walked straight back to the bedroom. Stella’s tentative voice floated through the air behind me. “Captain, am I really causing too much trouble for you guys?” “No. Just eat.” I closed the door. I shut out those voices completely. 2 The next morning, the sound of running water in the bathroom woke me up. I pushed the door open. Stella was standing in front of the mirror doing her skincare routine. My products, which normally had the whole counter, were shoved into a tight corner. The center of the vanity was hijacked by rows of expensive serums and moisturizers. Worse, a fuzzy pink towel was draped aggressively over my toothbrush cup. “Morning, Sierra.” She turned her head, flashing an innocent smile. “Sorry about the mess. I have a lot of products. Hope you don’t mind.” I walked over. I pinched the pink towel between two fingers. I dropped it straight into the laundry hamper next to the toilet. “I do mind.” Stella’s smile froze. “Sierra, what are you doing? That towel is brand new.” “It touched my toothbrush.” I picked up the toothbrush and tossed it directly into the trash can. “Sierra, are you out of your mind?” Jack’s voice echoed from behind me. He was in his sweatpants, frowning as he walked in and instinctively pulled Stella behind him. “It is just a towel. Is the dramatic tantrum really necessary?” “It’s unsanitary.” I looked at him, my voice completely flat. “You!” Jack took a deep breath, visibly suppressing his temper. “Stella just got here. She is still adjusting. As the lady of the house, could you try to be a little more accommodating?” Lady of the house. I caught the phrasing. We paid the down payment on this apartment together. Both our names were on the deed. Yet in his eyes, I was just the hostess playing nice for his real priorities. “She is just crashing for a few days. Stop pulling rank to bully her.” He didn’t wait for my response. He just handed down the verdict. I nodded slowly. “Fine. I won’t bully her.” I turned around, walked back to my room, and grabbed a new toothbrush from my stash. Breakfast was agonizingly tense. Jack had gone out for coffee and pastries. He slid a steaming cup of hot latte toward Stella. “Drink something warm. It will settle your stomach.” Then he pushed the remaining iced coffee toward me. I touched the plastic cup. Condensation dripped down the sides. “I can’t drink cold stuff right now. Did you forget?” I get severe cramps this time of the month. I never touch ice. Jack froze. A flash of genuine annoyance crossed his face. “I grabbed the wrong cup. Stella’s is the hot one.” He reached over to swap them. But Stella had already taken a sip from the hot cup. She looked at me with wide, apologetic eyes. “Oh no, I already drank from it. Sierra, do you want to just pop yours in the microwave?” “Don’t bother.” I stood up, took the iced latte, and poured it straight down the kitchen sink. “Enjoy your breakfast.” That afternoon, I had to drop off some paperwork at the Polar Research Institute downtown. Jack had asked me to organize his data authorization forms before he flew back. Just as I reached the plaza outside the building, I saw Jack and Stella walking out of the glass double doors. Stella had a blue lanyard hanging around her neck. Attached to it was an all-access VIP keycard for the Institute’s restricted labs. Three years. As the Captain’s fiancée, every time I came to deliver supplies or drop off paperwork, I had to stand at the security booth and wait in the freezing wind for him to come down and get it. I once asked him if he could get me a temporary guest pass. He said: “The Institute has strict security protocols. Family members aren’t allowed to wander around. It is the rules.” I believed him. Now, I realized the only person blocked by those rules was me. “Captain, that aurora simulation pod was incredible! I already have the whole storyboard for my next reel.” Stella was practically bouncing on her heels. “Glad you liked it. I’ll have the tech guys email you the raw data files later.” Jack’s tone was warm. Indulgent. Then he looked up and saw me standing at the bottom of the steps. The warmth vanished from his face instantly. The clinical, strictly-business mask slammed back into place. “What are you doing here?” “Dropping off your authorization forms.” I held out the manila envelope. He took it and barely glanced at it. “You could have just left it with security. Why did you walk all the way over?” “I was in the area.” My eyes drifted down to the blue VIP pass resting against Stella’s chest. “She has clearance?” Jack followed my gaze. His jaw tightened. “She is an official media partner. She has a filming schedule. The board expedited her pass.” “How long does an expedited pass take?” “A week.” “Didn’t you two just land in New York yesterday?” Jack went dead silent for two seconds. “I filed the paperwork for her while we were still at the station.” For her content. While stationed ten thousand miles away in a frozen wasteland, he navigated time zones, pulled strings, and chased down board members just to get her a plastic card. But when I asked for a visitor pass just so I wouldn’t have to freeze outside for half an hour, he fed me “protocol.” “That is great.” I gave a tight smile, turned around, and started walking away. “Wait, Sierra!” Stella called out. She trotted down the steps and shoved a small blue paper bag into my hands. “I bought this at the Institute’s gift shop just now. For you.” I looked down. It was a plush penguin keychain. “The Captain mentioned you absolutely love cute little things like this, so I picked the best one.” I love cute little things. That was a passing comment I made five years ago, right when we started dating. I casually said penguins were adorable. I grew up. I stopped buying stuffed animals years ago. But his memory of my preferences was permanently stuck on a throwaway comment from half a decade ago. “No thanks. Keep it as a prop for your videos.” I didn’t take the bag. “Just take it.” Jack stepped down, grabbed the bag, and practically forced it into my palm. “It is a nice gesture from Stella. Stop being so ungrateful.” Ungrateful. The word felt like a shard of glass sliding between my ribs. I looked at the cheap blue bag in my hand. The whole situation suddenly felt profoundly hilarious. “Sure. Thanks.” I crushed the bag in my fist and walked toward the subway. When I got home, I threw the penguin keychain into the trash can. Then I opened my laptop and went back to researching aurora hunting spots in Norway. Tromsø. December was the absolute best time for solar activity. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my best friend, Gemma. “Shopping this weekend? I heard Jack is back in town. You aren’t playing house with him?” “He has someone else to keep him company.” I typed the words out and hit send. She replied instantly with a single question mark. I didn’t bother explaining. I opened the Notes app on my phone. I typed out the iced coffee in the sink, the pink towel in the trash, and the blue VIP pass around another woman’s neck. It was a habit I had picked up over the last few days. Every single disappointment went into the list. Once the progress bar hit one hundred percent, I was deleting the whole file. 3 Saturday afternoon. Gemma and I met up at a mall in Soho. I tried on a heavy, insulated white parka, prepping for the Arctic chill. “Why are you buying Everest gear? It doesn’t even get that cold in New York.” Gemma sat on the fitting room couch, sipping her boba, looking thoroughly confused. “I am going somewhere cold.” I adjusted the fur-lined collar in the mirror. “Where? Did Jack finally agree to take you to the South Pole?” “No. I am going by myself.” I took off the parka and handed it to the cashier. Gemma narrowed her eyes, instantly sensing the shift in my tone. “What exactly is going on with you two? I asked you the other day and you ghosted me.” “Nothing. I am just tired of it all.” I took the shopping bag. We walked out of the boutique, heading toward a restaurant. I turned the corner, and froze. Right across the atrium, inside an elite outdoor apparel store, were two very familiar faces. Jack and Stella. Stella was trying on a top-of-the-line Arc’teryx hardshell jacket. The price tag dangling from the zipper read $1,800. Jack stood right beside her, meticulously adjusting the velcro cuffs on her sleeves. “This color block is highly visible in whiteout conditions. You won’t freeze to the bone next time we do an ice cap shoot.” His voice drifted out of the open storefront. Patient. Attentive. Gemma followed my line of sight. Her eyes practically bugged out of her head. “Who the hell is that?” “His teammate. A science influencer.” My voice was dead calm. Like I was reading a Wikipedia page about a stranger. “Teammate my ass.” Gemma let out a dark laugh and stormed straight into the store. I couldn’t catch her in time. I had to follow her in. “Well look who it is! Captain Jack. Real busy schedule you got since flying back, huh? Taking the ‘teammates’ on shopping sprees?” Gemma crossed her arms, standing near the racks, dripping with sarcasm. Jack jolted. He spun around, saw us, and immediately scowled. “Gemma? What are you doing here?” “I am taking your fiancée shopping.” Gemma pointed sharply at the bag in my hand. “Sierra has been with you for five solid years, and I have never once seen you buy her a jacket that costs more than a hundred bucks.” Jack’s face went rigid. His eyes darted past Gemma and locked onto me. “Sierra, what kind of garbage have you been feeding her behind my back?” His absolute first instinct was to accuse me of gossiping. “I haven’t said a word.” I stared right back at him. “Sierra, please don’t misunderstand.” Stella quickly unzipped the expensive jacket, stepping forward with a look of manufactured panic. “I am paying for this myself. The Captain is just helping me check the specs.” “Does checking the specs require him to stroke your forearms?” Gemma fired back without missing a beat. “You are an outdoor influencer, but you can’t read a damn size chart? Or do you just get a kick out of playing helpless around other women’s fiancés?” “Gemma!” Jack barked, his voice echoing in the store. “Watch your mouth. Stella is sourcing professional gear for the station’s official media campaign. If you don’t know what you are talking about, don’t throw a tantrum in public.” “I am throwing a tantrum?” Gemma let out a breathless laugh, rolling up her sleeves like she was ready to swing. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Enough, Gemma. Let’s go.” I wasn’t going to make a scene for strangers to film. “Go where? Sierra, you are a complete pushover!” Gemma glared at me, furious at my lack of fight. “Jack, look yourself in the mirror.” “Sierra runs around this city every week buying you thermal gear with her own money. What do you do? You take another woman out to watch the southern lights.” “You finally come home, and you move her into your apartment and take her shopping for luxury gear.” “If you want to break off the engagement, have the spine to say it out loud. Stop doing this disgusting, cowardly garbage!” Jack’s face turned completely black. The other shoppers were starting to stare. “Sierra.” He glared at me. His voice was absolute ice. “Take your friend and leave. Stop embarrassing yourself.” Embarrassing myself. In his mind, my best friend defending my five-year relationship was an embarrassment. “Okay.” I nodded slowly. I grabbed Gemma’s wrist and walked out of the store. I didn’t hesitate for a single second. When I got home that night, the living room was completely dark. I walked in, swapped my shoes, and started toward my bedroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a ripped cardboard box sitting on the coffee table. It was the package holding the custom polar star projector I ordered two months ago. I had planned to set it up in the living room next Friday, for our five-year anniversary. A massive surprise. Because he once told me the stars over the Antarctic ice were the most beautiful thing in the world, and he felt bad I would never get to see them. Now, the box was empty. A faint, ethereal blue glow was spilling from beneath the crack of the guest room door. I walked over. I pushed the door open. Stella was lying on the bed, holding her phone up, recording a TikTok. Projected onto the ceiling above her was the exact map of the South Pole night sky I had custom ordered. “Hey guys, just doing a quick room tour to show off this insane gift the Captain got me. Isn’t this the most romantic aesthetic ever?” She smiled perfectly into the front-facing camera. I stood in the doorway. “Who gave you permission to open my mail?” My voice was deadly quiet. Stella gasped, nearly dropping her phone onto the mattress. She sat up, recognized me, and dramatically clutched her chest. “Jesus, Sierra, you walk so quietly.” “I asked you a question. Who told you to open that box?” I repeated, not moving an inch. “You mean the projector?” She pointed at the ceiling. “The Captain said it was a PR sample from one of the institute’s vendors. He said it was just taking up space in the living room, so he told me to use it for my lighting.” A PR sample. I spent four hundred dollars on that projector. I waited eight weeks for the custom lens calibration. And he treated it like a piece of junk taking up space, handing it off to another woman to make content. “Give it back.” I walked over to the outlet and ripped the cord from the wall. The galaxy instantly vanished. The room plunged into darkness. “Sierra, what the hell are you doing?” Jack had just walked through the front door. Hearing the commotion, he stormed into the room and slammed the wall switch. The harsh overhead light flooded the space. He saw me holding the projector, and Stella sitting on the bed looking like a kicked puppy. “I am taking back what belongs to me.” “It is a cheap promotional sample! Are you seriously going to cause a scene over this? Stella needed it for a shoot. What is the harm in letting her borrow it?” His tone was dripping with that familiar, patronizing exhaustion. “I bought this.” I stared directly into his eyes. “I bought it for our five-year anniversary next Friday.” Jack froze. The irritation on his face cracked. His eyes darted away, suddenly unsure. “Five years… I thought the shipping label said it was from the Institute.” “Do you ever bother to read the name on the box?” I held the heavy plastic projector to my chest. A profound, hollow exhaustion washed over me. “Fine. I’m sorry. I misread it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, throwing out a half-hearted, dismissive apology. “Take the thing back. On our anniversary, I’ll take you to that fancy French place in Manhattan you’ve been talking about. We good?” We good. It was always like this. He would toss out a superficial compromise from his high horse, expecting me to catch it and be grateful. I looked at him. “Don’t bother.” I walked out of the guest room with the projector. I stopped next to the kitchen trash can. I opened my hands. Crash. The projector slammed against the bottom of the bin, the custom lens shattering into pieces. Jack had followed me out. He watched it happen, his face turning an ugly shade of gray. “Sierra, what is wrong with you lately? I said I was sorry. What exactly do you want from me?” “I don’t want anything from you.” I brushed the dust off my hands. “The projector is dirty now. I don’t want it anymore.”

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1 Late at night, after I let out a satisfied sigh, Dante Vale finally rolled gently off me. He had been unusually attentive lately. I figured he was probably about to leave me. I sighed quietly, turned over, and went to sleep. After all, everyone knew. I was the most useless kind of woman in love. When the sky wants to rain and a man wants to leave, what can I do? Beg bitterly? Cry, scream, threaten to die? That was what a real lovesick fool would do. But I was fake. A long time ago, I understood one truth. Everyone despised a woman who lost her head over love. Pretending to be one, however, was advanced strategy. At 5:30 in the afternoon, I shut down my computer and got off work on time. Behind me came the confused voice of a new coworker. “Didn’t they just announce an all-hands meeting? She’s leaving just like that?” “She’s different,” an older coworker said meaningfully. “Different how?” “If she gets home late, her husband hits her.” The new coworker sucked in a sharp breath. “Then why doesn’t she divorce him?” “Shh.” The older coworker lowered her voice. “She’s one of those women who can’t live without love.” A wave of helpless, sympathetic sighs filled the office. I strode toward the door, unable to suppress the corners of my mouth. Overtime? Absolutely not. I was not actually hopelessly lovesick. I only pretended to be. And I enjoyed every convenience it brought with a clear conscience. At the company, my persona was that of a poor woman who had to clock out on time to go home and cook. If I was even a little late, my “drunk, bad-tempered” husband would hit me. Whenever people mentioned me, they shook their heads and sighed, their voices full of anger at my lack of spine and pity for my suffering. Thanks to that persona, I was very popular at work. After all, I brought gossip and conversation to a dull office. I gave everyone’s fragmented sympathy and kindness somewhere to go. In a way, I provided excellent stress relief and emotional value. And unnecessary overtime, business trips, and social dinners automatically skipped me. The cafeteria lady always gave me half a portion more braised pork than others. Even my managers spoke to me gently, afraid of triggering my “psychological trauma.” What did I pay in return? A few hesitant lowered gazes. A pair of reddened eyes, full of unspeakable grievance. A few tears that came whenever I needed them. The return on investment beat every financial product on the market. Of course, maintaining a persona required a certain level of mental discipline. Once, Ms. Keller from the executive office complained to me about her boyfriend. I almost blurted out, “Use guilt to control him.” At the last second, I changed it to, “Maybe you didn’t do enough? You should be more understanding of him.” Ms. Keller glared at me like she wanted to shake some sense into me. I lowered my head in shame and slapped myself internally. Too close. Rule One of pretending to be lovesick: keep the acting steady and the character contained. If you hold it in, you’re a harmless little bunny. If you don’t, you become a scheming snake. At six sharp, I stepped through my front door. Dante had his back to me in the kitchen. He was shirtless, a loose apron tied around his waist, showing broad shoulders and a narrow waist. The muscles of his back shifted with every movement. Sunset spilled through the window, softening him like a filter. I leaned against the doorframe and admired the view happily. Then I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my cheek to his back, and adjusted my voice to its sweetest setting. “Darling, you work so hard. You cook for me every day. It makes my heart ache.” Dante turned his head to look at me. A smile rose in those naturally melancholy eyes. “I made your favorite sweet and sour ribs. Go wash your hands.” My eyes curved into two little crescents as I looked up and smiled. “Okay.” I had a soft, round little face. I knew I looked adorable when I smiled like that. And I knew he liked it. Of course. Dante had no idea that I had turned him into an abusive husband in the eyes of my company. And my coworkers had no idea I wasn’t even married. What did it matter? They would never meet anyway. This was the power of information gaps. That night, I was lying in bed watching a show when a firm chest silently pressed against my back. His breathing was heavy as he nibbled my earlobe. Before long, I had no idea what heaven or earth was anymore. I was floating somewhere above the clouds. Recently, Dante had been trying far too hard in bed. His sense of service was almost absurd. But whenever his dark, emotional eyes looked at me, there was always something complicated in them. Guilt, maybe. Or reluctance. After I sighed in satisfaction, Dante got up gently, wrung out a warm towel, and cleaned me with careful, focused movements. I sighed inside. Dante was probably going to leave. Two years ago, I met him while running by the river at night. He was sitting alone on the railing, staring at the water. I thought he was about to jump, so I rushed over and hooked him off the railing with one arm. “The world is beautiful, handsome. Don’t give up.” He got up from the ground and looked at me. The wind lifted the hair on his forehead, revealing an outrageously beautiful face. I froze. Expressionless, he said three things. “I was enjoying the wind.” “Take your hand off my waist.” “And my ankle is injured. Because of you.” He said he had nowhere to go, so I had no choice but to “reluctantly” take him home to recover. That recovery lasted two years. At first, he was silent, distant, and indifferent. Later, he reluctantly spoke a few sentences. Then came soft whispers and tangled intimacy. Now, he handled all the housework. All of this came from my daily sweet talk, top-tier emotional support, and acting skills polished to perfection. You could say he had been cultivated pretty well. But not long ago, I accidentally learned that Dante’s real identity was that of a super-rich heir. He had run away from home for two years because of family conflict. That day, through the glass, I saw his face turn so cold it was almost unfamiliar as he spoke into the phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll go back for the arranged marriage.” “Her? I’m just casually dating her. I can break up anytime.” “No need for you to intervene. She’s a hopeless romantic. If I say it directly, she’ll make a fuss. I’ll just leave quietly.” I walked three laps around the residential complex in silence. Before I finished the third lap, I had already figured it out. The gap between our backgrounds was too wide. Dante and I were not possible. Our feelings were not deep enough for either of us to fight the world. If I were truly lovesick, maybe I would beg, cry, and threaten to die so he wouldn’t leave. But I was fake. Adults should leave with dignity. Part peacefully. Keep the door open. If I fell on hard times later, maybe I could still rely on our old affection and ask him for a favor. Once I figured that out, I went upstairs, opened the door, and sweetly called him darling. See? This was the advantage of pretending to be lovesick. Even when abandoned, I could stay intact, keep my heart and lungs in place, and deal with the matter rationally. As for Dante. After two years together, he probably felt some guilt. These days, he had been finding every way to be good to me, cooking different dishes for me, and making sure I was satisfied in bed. I knew this was his way of saying goodbye. I accepted every bit of it and enjoyed the premium service brought by his guilt with a clear conscience. Rule Two of pretending to be lovesick: Never fight someone else’s guilt. I took two days of annual leave. By day, we curled up on the sofa and watched movies. By night, we tangled together and whispered sweet words. Even if separation was inevitable, I wanted to leave myself a beautiful memory. On the third day, I returned to work. My coworkers told me a piece of news in excited fragments. Mr. Grant had been dismissed for accepting bribes, and headquarters had parachuted in a new boss. Mr. Grant loved calling meetings right before closing time. Now that he was gone, everyone was thrilled. That afternoon, Ms. Keller sent a message in the group chat saying the new boss was treating everyone to a seafood feast tonight. Eight hundred and eighty-eight per person. The group filled with kneeling emojis and “thank you, boss.” I struggled internally for a long time. Then gave up. I could not ruin the persona over temporary appetite. The character had to stay steady. Steady meant victory. The next day, I was called to the general manager’s office. The young boss sat behind the desk in a crisp suit, his face cool and refined, flipping through a file Ms. Keller had given him. When I entered, he did not lift his head. He spoke lightly. “You were the only one who didn’t attend last night’s dinner. Any reason?” I pressed my lips together and slowly lowered my head. Two seconds of silence. Sure enough, Ms. Keller spoke up for me. “Mr. Price, her husband has a bad temper and controls her strictly. I mentioned it briefly before…” “A bad temper?” Across from me came a very soft chuckle. “What, does he hit her too?” I raised my head, prepared to show my familiar pale, resigned smile. Then I suddenly narrowed my eyes and hesitated. “I think I’ve seen you somewhere…” Ms. Keller jabbed my lower back with one finger. “Ivy Hart, this is not the time to network.” I stared at the young man across from me. He sat back in the leather chair with one leg crossed over the other, lips lightly pressed, head slightly tilted. His expression was almost a smile but not quite. That expression. “Rowan Price? Chubby Rowan?” I blurted it out. The corner of Rowan’s mouth twitched. With a mocking expression, he spoke slowly. “So you’re saying Ivy Hart, the class monitor who once chased boys around the schoolyard with a pointer, is now a lovesick doormat who gets hit by her husband if she gets home late?” My heart sank. It was over. Back then, my nickname was Ivy the Tyrant. I had been entrusted by our homeroom teacher with the glorious duty of managing all the unruly boys in class, and I had been very arrogant about it. The Rowan Price before me had been one of the boys I hit the hardest. Not only because he was fat and ran slowly, but also because he had a sharp mouth. Every time I pinned him to the ground, he would still crane his neck and shout, “Ivy Hart, you’ll never get married in this life,” or, “Don’t come begging me to marry you later.” Who would have thought boys changed this much? That chubby kid had transformed into a tall, handsome rising executive. Even his once-grating voice had become a low baritone. I adjusted quickly. Surprise, regret, nostalgia, then red eyes. Finally, a self-mocking smile. “That’s all in the past. We were young then. I can only say… well, everyone meets their match.” Rowan folded his arms and said nothing. A sarcastic curve hung on his mouth. His face clearly said: Do you think I’m stupid? After I left the general manager’s office, Ms. Keller looked at me with a complicated expression. “Ivy, are you doomed?” Ms. Keller was right. A person close to leadership was close to leadership for a reason. Her judgment was sharp. For the next period of time, Rowan went insane. He targeted me everywhere. Matters that could have been synced by email had to be reported verbally in his office. I had never done fieldwork, yet he made me accompany him to inspect factory lines. I was in planning, yet he named me to take meeting minutes. My workload suddenly multiplied several times. Finally, I couldn’t help it. “Don’t you have a secretary?” He lazily spun a pen without even lifting his eyelids. “She’s busy. Don’t you have a secretarial certificate? Did you take it for decoration?” I ground my back teeth while screaming internally. This was clearly revenge. Personal revenge dressed up as work. So petty. What, I hit him a few times when we were young? What mischievous chubby boy hadn’t been beaten by a class monitor in childhood? Most infuriating of all was that his tongue had become even sharper than before. His words were cutting, always stabbing right into my lungs. Several times, he left me speechless and nearly exploding. I knew he wanted to provoke me on purpose. Of course, I couldn’t let him succeed. How could I let the persona I had worked so hard to build collapse? So I gritted my teeth and swallowed it all. In front of him, I was always obedient, tolerant, and pitiful. And he merely tilted his head and looked at me with that faint smile, as if saying: Act. Keep acting. Fortunately, when I went home, I had Dante. That day, Rowan called me into his office again to revise a proposal. I got home forty minutes late. When I opened the door, steak, red wine, and flowers were already on the table. Dante wore a formal white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, exposing firm lines. In the candlelight, he smiled at me. “Ivy, happy second anniversary.” “Darling.” I flew toward him like a little bird and wrapped my legs around his waist. He caught me steadily. That night. At the moment my eyes lost focus, Dante suddenly gripped my wrists. His strength was startling. “Ivy.” “Mm…” “If one day I suddenly leave, what will you do?” He stopped there. His breathing went abruptly light. Caught in that unbearable, unfinished tension, I blurted out, “I’ll wait for you forever.” Dante stared at me. His eyes were bright in the dark, like two flames. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips to my ear, sighing with something like relief. “It doesn’t have to be that long…” That night, he was almost wild. As if he had become someone else. The next day at work, my waist and legs were so sore I almost couldn’t straighten up. I kept hissing under my breath. The coworker beside me asked carefully, “Did your husband, uh, drink again last night?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “He did drink a little.” This drew a wave of sympathetic gazes. My phone buzzed. Dante sent me a message. I need to leave for a while. I don’t know when I’ll return. Take care. I stared at the screen for a few seconds. My suspended heart finally died. I got up and went to the pantry, made a cup of hot coffee, and leaned against the counter in a daze. Dante had returned to his original world. Returned to his arranged marriage. Of course he would not come back. Those words were only meant to pacify me, the “hopeless romantic,” before he left. Ha. Good thing I wasn’t really lovesick. So it wouldn’t hurt that much. I tilted my head back. I didn’t move for a long while. “What are you doing here during work hours, posing like a swan?” A cold voice sounded. I jumped and met Rowan’s eyes. He leaned against the doorway, holding a cup. His gaze was sharp, like a cat that had smelled blood. I casually brushed the corner of my eye with my little finger. He narrowed his eyes at me. “You cried?” “No. Steam got in my eyes.” He scoffed and said sharply, “You’re not deliberately acting pitiful here to make people sympathize with you, are you? Ivy Hart, you can fool everyone else, but you can’t fool…” He suddenly stopped. His gaze landed on my wrist. I looked down. A ring of bruises circled my wrist, stark against my pale skin. Marks from last night.

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