Just because of one sentence from his first love, Adrian suspected that I had put a love curse on him. I desperately tried to explain that I hadn’t, but he still didn’t believe me. “I hate it when people use such underhanded methods to control me!” he spat. He was determined to make me confess, so he deliberately sent me to a criminal’s bed. And he live-streamed the whole thing. Separated by just a door, he and Scarlett watched with cold amusement as I faced off against the criminal. “Why don’t you use your voodoo now? Curse him! Make him fall in love with you, control him!” Scarlett’s voice taunted through the speakers. I trembled in fear. Scarlett was right, I did know voodoo. But my ability to use voodoo had disappeared when I became pregnant. As the criminal pinned me down, tears streamed down my face. I looked at the camera with pleading eyes, praying that Adrian would come to save me. But I was brutally assaulted all night, and that door never opened. The next day, when I was carried to the ambulance barely alive, I learned that my husband had been drunk by Scarlett and taken to a hotel. After finding out about my miscarriage, I left a divorce agreement and walked away. … As the criminal’s weight pressed down on me, a searing pain shot through my belly. Adrian still didn’t know that I was carrying his child. Tears filled my eyes without me realizing. With all my strength, I screamed, “Adrian! I’m pregnant, you can’t do this!” But the only response was the sound of the door being locked. And the heavy breathing of the man behind me. My heart sank to the depths of despair. “Olivia, I’m giving you one last chance. Will you confess or not?” Adrian’s cold voice came clearly through the speakers. I gritted my teeth and stubbornly said, “I didn’t put a curse on you! Adrian, don’t you trust me at all?” Remembering how much Adrian trusted Scarlett, my heart ached. My eyes stung, but I held back my tears. Adrian was silent for a moment. Then Scarlett’s sweet voice chimed in, “Olivia, there’s no point in denying it anymore.” “It doesn’t feel good to be deceived. If you really love Adrian, then prove it to him.” Hearing this, I abruptly cut her off, “I’ve said it already, I didn’t use any voodoo! And I can’t use love curses!” Through the wall, I heard Scarlett’s voice, clearly startled by my outburst. “Enough! Olivia, even at this point, you still refuse to admit it!” Adrian’s angry voice came through. My heart felt desolate. After all this, he still didn’t believe me! Realizing I could only rely on myself now, I said nothing more. I gritted my teeth, flipped over, and used all my strength to punch the criminal hard. Taking advantage of his pain, I seized the opportunity to run to the door, trying to open it. After several forceful tugs, I despairingly realized the door wouldn’t budge! “Fuck! You bitch!” The criminal quickly recovered and cursed as he walked towards me. My heart sank further into despair, and my whole body began to shake. Just as he was about to touch me, I finally couldn’t help but shout at the camera in the corner. “Adrian! Come save me!” But all I got was Adrian’s cold laugh and a flippant reply: “I’ll save you, as long as you admit you put a love curse on me.” But how could I admit to something I hadn’t done? “Adrian! How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t put a love curse on you!” “We… we were truly in love…” Remembering how Adrian used to cherish and love me, I could no longer hold back my tears and began to cry loudly. The man who once couldn’t bear to see me cut my finger, how could he have changed like this? After a while, Adrian’s low voice sounded. “Olivia, stop making excuses.” “I don’t believe you.” With these words, I closed my eyes in despair. All the love we had shared was completely shattered at this moment. The criminal had already started tearing at my clothes. He was rough, and I could only desperately cover my belly, trying to protect my child. Scarlett’s gentle voice came through the speakers. “There are so many people in the live stream now, Adrian. Everyone’s asking if Olivia will use voodoo on him.” Live stream? I widened my eyes, looking at the camera in disbelief: “Are you live streaming this?” But no one answered my question. A chill ran through me as the criminal stripped me naked. I struggled desperately, but the criminal slapped me hard across the face! Instantly, I saw stars and lost all strength. Yet Scarlett’s soft voice continued to come through. She seemed to be saying something about having a drink. My regret reached its peak. At this moment, how I wished I wasn’t pregnant! In our tribe, once a woman becomes pregnant, her ability to use voodoo disappears. I had made such a big decision to have this child with Adrian. I thought it would be the crystallization of our love, but now, it had become a knife stabbing into me! Watching helplessly as I was about to be violated, despair washed over me. I couldn’t bear it anymore and cried out loudly. “Adrian, I admit it! I admit I put a curse on you! Let me out!” “The baby, we have a baby! The baby will die!” My voice was so miserable that even the criminal paused for a second. But Adrian outside remained silent. I stared intently at that door, expecting it to open any second. But the next second, my body was roughly flipped over! At that moment, the whole world seemed to freeze. The night passed. There wasn’t a spot on my body that wasn’t bruised or hurt. As I lay there barely conscious, I saw a lot of blood pooled beneath me. I blinked weakly. A severe pain shot through my belly, and I knew, my child was gone. The one who saved me was Adrian’s assistant, James. As I was being lifted into the ambulance, I heard James sigh. “The boss has really messed up this time, abandoning his wife and going to a hotel with Scarlett! Even if Mrs. Olivia really did put a curse on him, there was no need to be so cruel! They’ve been married for seven years after all!” “Now look what’s happened, Mrs. Olivia not only lost the baby, but she might lose her life too!” I closed my eyes numbly. I couldn’t believe that my husband of seven years would really do this to me. Just because of one word from Scarlett, I had lost everything. If that’s how it is, I’ll let you two be together. When I woke up again, I learned in despair that because of last night’s live stream, the video of me being assaulted by the criminal had gone viral online. My phone was flooded with malicious messages, and calls were coming in non-stop. My hands shook uncontrollably as I gripped my phone, not knowing what to do. “Mrs. Olivia, are you alright?” James asked worriedly. “Don’t be afraid, Mr. Adrian will surely handle this matter!” I gave a bitter smile. How would he handle it? Wasn’t this live stream planned by him? But I still held onto a last shred of hope for him: “Where is he then?” With these words, James fell silent. I stared at him intently, my eyes gradually turning red. He then hurriedly said, “Something urgent came up at the company, Mr. Adrian… went back to deal with it…” As he spoke, he realized how unconvincing it sounded and fled the room. “I’ll go buy you some porridge to warm your stomach.” Adrian must be with Scarlett, right? I laughed bitterly. What a poor excuse about dealing with company matters. After all, in the past, Adrian could accompany me for a whole month without going to the company. … “Isn’t this woman in the video you?” I never imagined that just stepping out to get some medicine would lead to someone recognizing me from the video. Seeing me purse my lips in silence, the man examined my face carefully for a long time. Then he slapped his thigh and shouted, “It is you! The woman in this video!” Instantly, everyone in the hospital turned to look. The man looked extremely pleased with himself. His lips spread into a wide grin as he started playing the video. “I even recorded the live stream! You have a mole on your inner thigh, it’s so sexy when you shake!” In an instant, the surrounding crowd erupted. “It is her! I heard she used voodoo to marry into a rich family! Her husband was so angry that he—” “She deserves it! Look at her pitiful state now, abandoned by her man!” “I gotta say, her moans are pretty nice. Hey bro, send me a copy, will ya?” Suddenly, my ears were filled with a buzzing noise. I stood there rigidly, like a withered tree, my world reduced to nothing but the sound of my own cries and pleas. I don’t know how I was pulled out of there. When I came back to my senses, I only saw James’s anxious face. “Mrs. Olivia! Why did you go out? Don’t mind what those disgusting people said! How dare they bully you when Mr. Adrian isn’t around! When Mr. Adrian comes back, he won’t let any of them off!” I looked at him blankly. “Adrian… will he really come back?” “Of course he will! Mr. Adrian loves you so much, we all see it. Mrs. Olivia, if you just apologize, Mr. Adrian will definitely come back!” Seeing James’s expression, as if he wanted to apologize on my behalf, I suddenly felt numb. No one believed me. So what was the point of staying here? After sending James away, I changed my phone, stopped going online, and hurriedly booked a ticket back home. Then I started the divorce proceedings. When I received the divorce agreement from the lawyer, several days had passed. During these days, Adrian hadn’t come to see me once. The last glimmer of hope in my heart disappeared. With James gone, the one who took care of me the most was a nurse I didn’t know. She probably didn’t use the internet and hadn’t recognized me. Seeing that no one was looking after me, she was heartbroken: “Where’s your husband! Why isn’t he here to take care of you?” Seeing her angry eyes, for a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. How could Adrian come to take care of me? All these wounds on my body were because of him. But the day before I was discharged, Adrian actually came to my hospital room. He was unusually flustered. “Olivia, are you alright? I’m sorry I came late, I’ve already dealt with the video online!” I nodded calmly, not giving him any extra glances. “Olivia! You had a miscarriage?” Seeing that I didn’t speak, he became even more anxious. Gripping my shoulders, he said, “Say something, was what you said that day true? Did you really have a miscarriage?” I frowned and brushed his hands off: “Yes.” Adrian froze instantly, as if struck by lightning. I found it laughable. Did my words have so little credibility in his heart? Would I joke about something like pregnancy? Besides, wasn’t my miscarriage because of him? Now he’s putting on an act of being sorry for me, who is he trying to fool? “Olivia, the baby… it’s my fault.” “Hit me, scold me, whatever makes you feel better. But I really didn’t know you were pregnant…” Adrian’s face was full of remorse. I looked at him and spoke softly: “What good would hitting or scolding you do? Would it bring our child back?” Adrian froze. The air stagnated. I saw Adrian lower his eyes, as if making a major decision, then look at me steadily. “Olivia, I forgive you for putting a curse on me. We’re even now.” “Can we go back to how we were before?” Go back to how we were before? I almost laughed out loud. I never put a curse on him, so what forgiveness was he talking about? The damage had been done, how could we go back to before? Moreover… Looking at the divorce agreement in the drawer, I fell silent. Now that Adrian had come to me himself, I might as well be straightforward about the divorce. It would save me another trip. Thinking this, I opened my mouth: “Adrian, we—” Before I could say “let’s divorce”, I was interrupted by a phone ringtone. It was Adrian’s special ringtone. He ignored what I was saying and immediately answered the call. Sure enough, it was Scarlett. Her soft tone clearly came through the quiet air to my ears. “Adrian, didn’t you say you were going to buy cupcakes? Why aren’t you back yet~” My heart ached. Even coming to see me was just an errand for him? Adrian hurriedly explained in a low voice: “There’s a bit of traffic. Are you thirsty? Should I buy you something to drink?” “Sure, hurry up, I can’t wait~ It’s so cold being alone at night~” “Wait for me.” With that, Adrian hurriedly stood up and strode towards the door. He only left one sentence: “I’ll come see you again tomorrow.” I had to swallow the words I wanted to say. Never mind, we’d be divorcing sooner or later anyway. In the middle of the night, I dreamed of Adrian from before. Back then, there was no third person between us, it was when we loved each other the most. Adrian was extremely busy with work, only able to squeeze out time to be with me. Once, he was very late for a date. I sulked and said I wouldn’t like him anymore, that I’d go find another man. He didn’t get angry, just smiled and pinched my nose, saying he didn’t believe me. His smile was so handsome, my heart fluttered a little. I couldn’t help but ask him why he didn’t believe me. His handsome features relaxed as he peeled shrimp for me and said, “Because I trust you.” In an instant, I woke up. My heart filled with bitterness. Yes, in the past, he used to trust me so much. When did it all change? At three in the morning, my phone vibrated with a message from Adrian. “I love you, Olivia.” “Scarlett just came back from abroad, I’m just taking care of her a bit more now. Don’t mind it. Once she can take care of herself, I won’t bother with her anymore. We’ll live our own life, okay?” I put down the phone without replying. Scarlett is a grown woman, what kind of care does she need? What kind of care involves sharing a bed? Early the next morning, I checked out of the hospital. When I got back “home”, I only took a few necessary things. After leaving the signed divorce agreement on the table, I hesitated. After some thought, I still left two voodoo insects. Since my miscarriage, my ability to use voodoo had returned. Since Adrian was convinced I had put a curse on him, wouldn’t it be a waste if I didn’t actually do it? After doing everything, I set off on my journey home. When Adrian arrived at Olivia’s hospital room, he only saw an empty, cold bed. After some inquiries, he learned that she had been discharged today. How reckless, checking out when she wasn’t fully recovered!? Thinking this, Adrian stepped hard on the gas pedal. When he got home, he’d have to have a good talk with her! But when he got home, he didn’t find her. Instead, he found a signed divorce agreement on the table.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296129”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic

I live in a novel. My sister is the tragic heroine. To save her life, my family traveled back ten years in time, determined to protect her at all costs. The price? Destroying me. My career was ruined for her. My husband was stolen by her. My child died because of her. And in the end, to save her, they handed me over to her deranged admirer, who stabbed me until I was left mutilated and broken. Later, I was tortured to death by the housekeeper. Only then did they realize their mistake. They went mad trying to find traces of my existence, driven by regret. The metallic scent of blood filled my nose. I pushed the door open and froze. My Samoyed, Coco, lay on the floor, barely breathing, blood pooling around her. My mind went blank. I turned to the man holding the knife—my father. “Dad! What are you doing?!” I screamed, my voice cracking. But he ignored me, his gaze fixed on Coco. Before I could stop him, he plunged the knife deep into her belly. Then, with a brutal motion, he dragged the blade upward, leaving her mutilated beyond recognition. I collapsed to the floor, cradling Coco as her faint whimpers filled the room. She looked up at me, her eyes full of pain, but still tried to wag her tail, as if to comfort me one last time. Then, she went still. “Not in her stomach?” my sister’s airy voice drifted over. “I thought she swallowed my ring.” My father, unfazed, tossed the knife aside and reached into Coco’s open belly, still searching. “Stop!” I screamed, my voice hoarse. “She’s just a dog! How could you do this to her?!” My sister, startled by my outburst, shrank back, tears welling in her eyes. She clung to my husband, Jason, for comfort. “I was just desperate to find my ring…” she murmured pitifully. Jason wrapped his arm around her, frowning at me. “It’s just a dog,” he said dismissively. “I’ll buy you another one.” His words stabbed at my chest. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to speak, but my father cut me off. “Enough,” he said, his tone cold and commanding, a far cry from the man who once doted on me. “Enough.” That’s all they ever said to me since they came back from ten years in the future. Since then, they’d lavished my sister with unconditional love and affection, while I was told to step aside, again and again. Jason, still holding my sister, frowned as he watched her cry. He let out a sigh and walked toward me. “Your ring,” he said, holding out his hand. I stared at him, confused and frozen. Before I could react, he slid my wedding ring off my finger. Turning back to my sister, he pressed it into her hand. “This ring might not compare to yours,” he said gently, “but at least it’s something to keep you company.” She looked up at him, her tears quickly replaced with a smile. “Jason, you’re so good to me,” she whispered. I stared at them in disbelief. I scrambled to my feet, reaching for the ring, my hands still stained with Coco’s blood. But before I could grab it, my bloodied hands brushed against my sister’s white dress, leaving crimson smears on the fabric. Jason immediately shoved me away, his eyes filled with annoyance. “Stop it,” he said. “I’ll take you to pick out a new ring tomorrow, okay?” I bit my lip until I tasted blood, my heart shattering into pieces. Still, I wouldn’t back down. I reached for the ring again, only to feel the sting of my father’s palm across my face. “You’re being ridiculous!” he snapped. The sharp pain burned on my cheek as I staggered back. And then, just like that, my father threw me and Coco out of the house. The rain poured down in torrents, washing over me and the lifeless body of my dog. I clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably. A small hand tugged at my sleeve. “Mommy?” I looked up to see my son, only six or seven years old, staring at me with wide, worried eyes. But before I could respond, my father appeared behind him. Without a word, he grabbed my son by the arm and dragged him back inside. “Your mother needs to be punished for what she’s done,” he said sternly. “You’re not going to stand out here and get sick because of her.” My son kicked and screamed, crying for me as he was pulled inside. I lunged forward, trying to reach him, but the door slammed shut in my face. The cold rain mixed with the blood on my hands, and I sank to the ground, choking on my sobs.

Both of my hands were raw and bleeding. It had taken everything I had to bury Coco, my sweet dog, in the cold, hard ground. The effort left me so drained that I collapsed. When I woke up, I was back in my bedroom. Jason was slumped over the side of the bed, asleep. Hearing me stir, he shot up, his eyes filled with concern. “Babe, you scared me to death! Are you hungry?” He reached out to touch my forehead, then bent down and kissed me gently. A small smile crept across his face. “Looks like your fever broke,” he said softly. I stayed silent, watching him as he pulled a familiar object from his pocket—a ring. Carefully, he slid it back onto my finger. “I got the ring back for you. Don’t be mad, okay? Your sister’s still unwell, and she doesn’t have much time left. Let’s be a little more understanding, for her sake.” I remained quiet. I wanted to ask him so badly: If she’s dying, does that mean I deserve to suffer? Before I could say anything, the sound of the door creaking open interrupted my thoughts. My sister walked in, carrying a bowl of steaming soup. On her finger glinted a brand-new diamond ring, the size of a pigeon egg. “Jason was going to give you this ring,” she said with a sly smile, holding up her hand to show it off. “But when he saw how much I liked it, he decided to give it to me instead.” Her voice was light, but the challenge in her tone was unmistakable. She placed the bowl in front of me. “You must be starving. Try some of the soup I made for you.” The smell made my stomach turn. I shook my head, refusing to eat. Jason, ever the peacemaker, picked up the bowl and spooned a piece of meat toward me. “Come on, eat something,” he said gently. When I kept my mouth shut, he didn’t pull the spoon away. He just sat there, waiting, until I had no choice but to take a bite. The moment it hit my tongue, something felt wrong. My sister’s voice, dripping with malice, broke the silence. “How’s Coco’s meat? Tasty?” Something in my brain snapped. I spat the food out, gagging as bile rose in my throat. My stomach churned violently as I stared at the pink chunk of meat in the bowl. My sister sighed dramatically. “Jason had to work so hard to dig her back up. It would’ve been such a waste to leave all that meat in the ground.” Her words hit me like a slap. I turned to Jason, my eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you did this?” Jason couldn’t even look at me. He hung his head in shame, then reached down and picked up a small puppy from the floor. He placed it in my lap. “This is for you,” he said quietly. “To make up for it.” The little dog barked and wagged its tail, full of life and energy. But I felt nothing but cold emptiness. I hurled the bowl of soup to the floor, the ceramic shattering into pieces. “Get out! Both of you, GET OUT!” I screamed, clutching my face as tears poured through my fingers. My wedding ring—chosen secondhand after my sister’s approval. My dog—boiled into soup after years of unconditional love. I stared at the meat on the floor, my chest tightening until it was hard to breathe. “I’m sorry, Amelia,” my sister said softly, crouching down to pick up the broken pieces of the bowl. She winced as a shard of porcelain cut her hand. Jason immediately panicked. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, sucking the blood from the cut before carefully wrapping it in a tissue. “Be careful next time,” he said gently, leading her out of the room. But before leaving, he turned back and looked at me, disappointment etched into his face. “You’re being unreasonable, Amelia. You never used to be like this.” I sat frozen, staring at the door as it closed behind them. Unreasonable? I didn’t even know how to respond anymore. The shrill ring of my phone shattered the silence. I answered it, only to be met with my manager’s furious voice. “What the hell is going on, Amelia? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve ruined your career!” I blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?” I asked weakly. “Seriously? You’re married, and you still couldn’t control yourself? You’ve completely destroyed your reputation!” I grabbed my phone and opened social media. The words trending at the top of the page made my blood run cold. #Famous Actress Amelia Harris Caught Cheating#

I clicked on the trending topic. It was a series of photos. Under dim lighting, a woman was wrapped in the arms of an overweight man. The faces were blurry, but I recognized the silhouette immediately. It was my sister. But my family, in their usual way, had already logged into my social media account. They made me take the blame. The statement they posted read: “I deeply apologize for wasting public attention. Please don’t misunderstand or blame my sister. It was my own lapse in judgment that led to my infidelity. I fully acknowledge my mistakes and regret implicating my sister in this matter. To everyone who has supported me, I’m sorry. Starting today, I will be leaving the entertainment industry as an act of self-reflection.” When I read those words, my hands trembled with rage. I tried to log back into my account to post the truth, but the password had already been changed. The door creaked open, and my mother walked in. She pulled me into a hug, her eyes red and brimming with tears. But she wasn’t here to comfort me. She was here to persuade me. “Sweetheart, your sister is at the peak of her career. If this kind of scandal gets out, her life will be ruined forever.” I stared at her blankly, the tears on my face already dried. “And what about me, Mom?” What about me? Wouldn’t this destroy me too? My mother faltered under my gaze, guilt flickering across her face. “Honey, listen to me. You have Jason. He knows the truth; he won’t turn his back on you. But your sister—she’s not married yet. Her future can’t handle this.” A wave of nausea hit me. I grabbed the black card she had given me and slammed it to the ground. “She made this mess, and she can clean it up herself. I’m not sacrificing my life for her career!” My raised voice startled her, and just as she was about to respond, the door opened again. My sister stepped in, her face streaked with tears. She cried and apologized, taking my hand and pressing it against her cheek. “Hit me, Amelia. If it’ll make you feel better, go ahead. I deserve it.” Her performance ignited something inside me. I clenched my teeth and, as she wished, slapped her hard across the face. The sharp sound of the slap echoed in the room. Before I could react, Jason stormed in and yanked me away from her. “What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted. My sister, clutching her reddened cheek, smiled at me through her tears. “Your karma is coming,” she whispered. I didn’t understand what she meant. I could only watch as my family surrounded her, comforting her as they left the room. But I understood soon enough. People started questioning the photos. Some began to doubt whether the woman in them was really me. Sensing the shift in public opinion, my family responded in the only way they knew how—by escalating. Private photos of me, meant for Jason’s eyes only, suddenly flooded the internet. The scandal exploded, overshadowing everything else. I clutched my chest, struggling to breathe. I knew then that my life was over. I sat in a daze, unable to move, when the phone rang. “Mommy…” It was my son’s voice, trembling and tearful. “Mommy, Auntie took me to Hollow Lake. I’m scared…” His words were cut off abruptly. The last thing I heard was the sound of something heavy splashing into the water. Panic consumed me as I grabbed my coat and ran out the door. By the time I arrived, it was too late. My sister stood by the lake, calm and composed, smiling as if nothing had happened. “Your son is so rude,” she said casually. “He said I was bullying you and even tried to hit me.” She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “But he’s so clumsy. He slipped and fell into the water all by himself.” She shrugged lightly. “Not that it matters. I can’t swim, you know.” Her words made my mind go blank. I shoved past the crowd and dove into the lake, frantically searching until I found him. I pulled him to the surface and carried him to the shore, but it was too late. His small body was limp, his face pale, his lips tinged with blue. He was gone. The son I had promised to protect was gone.

I knelt helplessly in front of my son’s lifeless body, clutching him in my arms as uncontrollable sobs wracked my body. The crowd around me began to murmur, their judgmental voices cutting through the air like knives. “She deserves it! A woman like her, throwing herself around—her son’s death is just karma!” Rotten vegetables and trash were hurled at me, but I couldn’t muster a single word in my defense. And then she walked over—my sister. She leaned down, her voice low and threatening. “You still want to clear your name? This is what happens. Think carefully before you act.” Her cold indifference snapped something inside of me. I lunged at her, grabbing her by the collar, screaming, “He was just a child!” My son. My sweet, smart, loving boy. Just yesterday, he was holding my hand, calling me “Mommy.” And now, he was reduced to this—cold, lifeless, gone. “Amelia! Amelia!” Jason pushed through the crowd, rushing toward me. The moment he saw our son’s body, his knees almost buckled. But he steadied himself and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s going to be okay,” he stammered, though his voice was trembling. “Just calm down. Please, calm down—” I shoved him away with all the strength I had left and slapped him across the face. The love I once felt for him was gone, replaced by a searing hatred. My parents arrived moments later, rushing past me to check on my sister. “Are you hurt?” they asked her frantically. She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “I saw someone take little Ray, so I ran after them… but I was too late.” Her words, laced with guilt, were enough for my parents. They believed her without question. They surrounded her protectively, whispering reassurances while offering me hollow condolences. But I didn’t care. Their words were meaningless to me now. Everything I cared about was gone. Holding my son’s body, I felt as though my soul had been ripped away. Suddenly, someone in the crowd screamed. “He’s got a knife!” People scattered in all directions as a heavyset man stormed toward us, a knife glinting in his hand. He was shouting my sister’s name. I recognized him immediately—the man from the tabloid photos, the one who had been holding my sister in his arms. Jason and my parents tensed up, immediately positioning themselves in front of my sister. They knew exactly who he was. In the original timeline, this man had been my sister’s obsessive admirer. His obsession had grown so twisted that he ultimately killed her. Now, as he charged toward us, they instinctively shielded her, pushing her behind them. And then, I felt it. A hand shoved me from behind, hard. Still clutching my son’s body, I stumbled forward—straight into the man’s path. His eyes, wild and full of rage, locked onto me. He didn’t even glance at my sister. “It was you,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re the one who told her I wasn’t good enough. You’re the one who tried to break us apart!” His grip on the knife tightened. “You filthy bitch. You should die!” In that moment, everything became clear. I wasn’t his target by chance. I was his target because of them. The knife sank into my body, cold and unrelenting. I gasped, the pain blinding, but I managed to turn my head. Jason, my parents, and my sister were already gone. They had climbed into a car and driven away, leaving me behind without a second thought. The world around me blurred as blood poured from my wound, staining everything red. The pain—oh, the pain. I clutched my son even tighter, tears streaming down my face. “It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Mommy’s coming to find you.”

I never thought I’d survive. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the blindingly white ceiling of a hospital room. “Amelia! You scared us to death! Do you even know how long you’ve been unconscious?” My mom’s warm arms wrapped around me tightly. When I didn’t respond, she wiped her tears and hesitated before speaking again, her voice trembling. “Sweetheart, I need to tell you something. Please, stay calm, okay?” I lifted my hollow eyes to meet hers. Her face was full of pain. “Your mom failed to protect you,” she said, her voice cracking. “Your lower body… you’re paralyzed now. We did everything we could to save your legs.” I couldn’t feel my legs at all. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even react. I felt like an empty shell, barely human. My mother grew more anxious at my lack of response. Then the door opened, and my sister walked in. She wrinkled her nose, her face twisting in disgust. “What’s that smell? It’s awful,” she said casually. Jason followed close behind her. At her words, he froze, then hurried over to me. He pulled back the blanket covering me. I had wet myself. For a split second, I caught the flash of revulsion on my mom’s face before she quickly masked it. Jason, on the other hand, looked genuinely concerned. He shooed my mom and sister out of the room and gently started cleaning me up. His frail hands cradled me as he whispered, “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d never see you again.” I turned my head away, refusing to look at him. My son was dead. I had no reason to keep living. Jason finished cleaning me up, murmured a few comforting words, and left the room. I drifted off into a restless sleep. I didn’t sleep for long. I woke to the sound of muffled voices coming from the bathroom nearby. It was my sister. Her breathy voice carried through the thin walls. “See? You like kissing me too. Why won’t you just admit it?” She paused, her tone turning pleading. “I don’t know how much longer I have left to live. Can’t you just grant me this one wish?” Jason’s voice followed, low and strained. “Emily, I can’t. I can’t betray Amelia… I just—” Before he could finish, she cut him off. The sound of a kiss filled the silence. I stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently down my cheeks. I didn’t need to see what was happening. The sounds were enough. I didn’t know how much time passed before they finally emerged, one after the other. Emily’s hair was disheveled, and her neck was marked with faint red bruises. When she saw me staring, she smirked, her expression full of challenge, and wrapped her arm tightly around Jason’s. Jason pulled away from her, looking flustered, and rushed to my side. “Amelia, it’s not what you think,” he started, his voice desperate. I didn’t respond. Two months later, I was discharged from the hospital. Jason pushed my wheelchair as my mom walked behind us, chatting cheerfully. “That maniac is in prison now,” she said with relief. “Thank God for you, Amelia. Without your testimony, we wouldn’t have had the evidence to put him away. Now we can all breathe easy.” I stayed silent the entire time. When we got home, the caretaker Emily had hired greeted us at the door. In front of my family, she was the picture of warmth and kindness. But as soon as she wheeled me inside and shut the door, her expression darkened. Without hesitation, she slapped me hard across the face. “I’m warning you,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing. “If you try anything, I’ll make your life a living hell.” I stared at her, my voice calm despite the sting on my cheek. “This was Emily’s idea, wasn’t it? She told you to hurt me, to make me suffer.” The caretaker sneered, her sharp eyes glinting with malice. “You’re smarter than you look.” She disappeared for a moment and came back with a bowl of steaming porridge. Without giving me a chance to prepare, she shoved spoonful after spoonful into my mouth. The scalding liquid burned my throat, making me choke and cough violently. Tears filled my eyes as I struggled to breathe. Anger and humiliation churned in my chest, but I knew better than to fight back. If I reported her, Emily would defend her. My family would believe Emily over me, dismissing my words as hysterical outbursts. And if the caretaker stayed, her abuse would only get worse. I clutched my throat, coughing uncontrollably. Through my blurred vision, my gaze landed on the surveillance camera in the corner of the room. If my words wouldn’t be enough… Would the footage be?

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I suddenly saw screenshots of my lawyer husband chatting with his young new intern in our shared photo album. I had forgotten we shared an iCloud account. “You’re a lawyer, surely you can find a way to leave her with nothing,” the message read. It’s true my husband is a lawyer. But they forgot one thing – I’m a seasoned judge who’s presided over cases for years. After judging so many other people’s cases, this time, I’ll be the plaintiff. “Olivia, we’ve got another case from Ethan’s firm. Looks like a new lawyer will be representing them this time – quite young too,” my judicial assistant said as she handed me the case file. I looked up from the documents I was reviewing and pushed the file back to her. “I’ve recused myself from all cases involving his firm. Make sure this gets returned.” My assistant hugged the file to her chest. “Right, of course. Even without you saying anything, Ethan’s associates win 9 out of 10 cases. He really is the top lawyer in the city.” I handed her the judgment I had just finished signing. “It’s not ‘even without me saying anything.’ I never say anything about it.” The assistant laughed awkwardly and left with the signed judgment. A moment later, the door opened again. A lively young woman walked in, clearly new to the profession and still quite naive. Behind her was Ethan, my husband. The young woman bounced up to my desk, beaming. “Judge Olivia, I’m representing a case that’s been assigned to you. I hope you’ll look kindly on it!” Ethan chuckled softly, his tone unusually indulgent. “In court, you should address her as ‘Your Honor.’ Only laypeople call her ‘Judge.’” The young woman nodded several times, revealing her inexperience. “Oh, I see. Your Honor, I’m Mia.” I frowned slightly. “Your case isn’t assigned to me. You’ve got the wrong person.” Mia looked confused and turned to Ethan, tilting her head in a naturally coquettish way that only young women can pull off. “But wasn’t it assigned to Judge Olivia when we filed?” To avoid conflicts of interest, I always recuse myself from cases involving Ethan’s firm. This is common knowledge. Ethan explained gently, with a patience I rarely saw from him. “Olivia and I are married. She doesn’t preside over cases from our firm.” Mia furrowed her brow slightly. “Oh? I thought the recusal rule only applied to you personally. Why does it cover the whole firm?” Ethan shrugged, indicating it was out of his hands. The two of them chatted back and forth in front of me. I had asked Ethan about this when I first started my career. What did he say back then? “Cases are judged based on the law. If you’re unsure, just refer back to the legal codes.” But the law doesn’t tell me what to do when a husband cheats.

I closed the file I was working on and interrupted Mia’s incessant chatter. “The courtrooms are on the other side. This is a private office area, lawyers and other unauthorized people aren’t allowed in here.” My blunt words left Mia stunned. She looked helplessly at Ethan. Ethan stepped forward to smooth things over. “Olivia, Mia’s new to the profession. She’ll need to interact with judges a lot. I just wanted to introduce her around.” Mia? I raised an eyebrow at Ethan. “That includes you, Mr. Jiang.” Ethan’s face flushed red then pale. “Olivia, don’t be so petty. Mia’s new, give her a break.” My hand paused as I was writing. My expression remained neutral. “Mr. Jiang, you said yourself to use formal titles in court.” My refusal to back down left Ethan at a loss. Annoyance flashed across his face. “Is this really necessary?” I rested my chin on my hand and looked at Ethan. “Well, do you think it’s necessary? How long before you replace this one?” “Olivia!” He used my full name, with a hint of warning. Sensing the tension, Mia quickly grabbed Ethan’s arm. “Ethan, let’s not bother Judge Olivia while she’s working. We can come back another time.” Her soft, pleading tone contrasted sharply with my unyielding stance. Ethan clearly preferred Mia’s approach. He took her arm and stormed out, slamming the door. My husband, holding another woman’s arm, completely forgetting it was my birthday.

With just an hour left of my birthday, the cake on the table had long since melted into a sad puddle. I scooped up a bite and put it in my mouth. It tasted awful. I sent Ethan a message: “Are you coming home tonight?” Lawyers often travel for work, so it wasn’t unusual for him to stay out. I never asked before. This time I texted because I had a feeling Ethan was still angry about what happened earlier. But I hadn’t wronged him. This really was the fifth young intern he’d brought around this year. They were all young and pretty new lawyers. He always brought them to the courthouse to get acquainted. Everyone knew what that meant. Out of respect for my position as a judge, no one said it directly, but I could feel the mocking glances. When those meaningful looks swept over me, I felt stripped bare for everyone’s amusement. They all wanted to see me humiliated. My once beloved husband was no longer my armor, but had become a stain. Ethan didn’t used to be like this. He used to be my shield. He would wait outside my dorm for three hours just to bring me materials for a competition. I’d poke him and say, “Why didn’t you call or text? I could have come down earlier.” He’d just grin sheepishly. “I figured you were napping. Wanted to let you sleep.” How could 20-year-old Olivia resist such a thoughtful, gentle Ethan? When I graduated and moved to his city for work, I showed up at his door with my suitcase. He was so surprised he couldn’t close his mouth. “You…you’re here? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have picked you up.” I stepped forward and hugged him. “You’re so busy with cases. I wanted to let you sleep in.” Ethan said we were meant for each other. But Ethan never said that meant we had to walk together. He didn’t say it because he had stopped walking with me. After he became successful, countless people gravitated towards him. We started to drift apart. The ping of my phone snapped me out of my thoughts. I thought it was Ethan replying, but it was a message from Nathan. “Hey Liv, I’m back in the country!” I refreshed my social media feed and saw a new photo Ethan had posted. In it, Mia was smiling radiantly like a porcelain doll, while Ethan pored over some documents in the background. The live photo captured sound: “Ethan, with all this evidence, think we’ll make it home tonight?” Mia’s voice. “What if we don’t?” Half teasing, half joking. The way Ethan looked at Mia in the photo was familiar. It was how he used to look at me back in college. My heart sank. Ethan was serious this time.

Ethan never came home. That photo on social media kept me tossing and turning all night on the couch. Yeah, what if they didn’t make it home? Deep down, I knew there were problems between Ethan and me. We’d been going through the motions for years, but never confronted the issue head-on. I’d found long strands of hair on his shirts that weren’t mine. Smelled perfume I never wore. Even noticed the passenger seat adjusted in ways I didn’t like. But we maintained an unspoken agreement – I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell. Like many middle-aged couples, we silently papered over the cracks. The naive young lovers we once were had long since become jaded adults. I was enduring, night after lonely night, until I couldn’t take it anymore. When Ethan opened the door and saw me, he looked surprised. “Why aren’t you at work?” I turned my stiff neck to look at him wearily. “Took the day off.” Ethan was about to ask more but then spotted the sad remains of the cake. He smacked his forehead. “Olivia, I’m so sorry! I was working late at the office. I completely forgot your birthday.” He crouched beside me and rubbed the back of my neck. “Since you’re off today, why don’t we go out? We haven’t had a nice meal together in ages.” His eyes sparkled with a hint of his younger self. My heart softened a bit. “Okay,” I said. “I texted you last night but you didn’t reply. Figured you were working on a case.” Ethan loosened his tie. “You texted? I must have missed it.” I didn’t mention the photo he posted. Didn’t tell him I’d been up all night because of it. I’d checked again – the photo was gone. I knew it was Mia. Women have an intuition about these things. She’d deleted my message. Posted that photo from Ethan’s phone. This young woman was different from the others. Ethan came out of the bathroom after showering and hugged me, still damp. “By the way, the spare room’s been empty. Why don’t we let Mia stay there for a bit? She’s new to the city and needs a place temporarily. She’ll move out soon.” His eyes were bright and earnest in the steamy air. It’s hard for anyone to agree to have another woman living in their home. Ethan kissed my neck lightly. “Rent’s expensive in the city. You know junior lawyers barely make enough to get by. I’m her mentor, so you as the mentor’s wife should help out.” I wanted to refuse, but we’d already had that unpleasant encounter at the courthouse. I was afraid pushing it would make things worse between us. Marriage is half compromise, half tolerance. When you can’t tolerate anymore, that’s when it’s over.

Mia moved into the spare room. I had worried she might feel awkward, but my concerns were unfounded. “Olivia, can I use this towel?” She held up a pink hand towel. The blue one next to it was Ethan’s. Before I could say no, Ethan spoke up. “Can’t you buy your own stuff? Stop using my wife’s things.” He said not to, but handed her the towel anyway. Mia stuck out her tongue playfully. “Thanks Olivia.” Ethan had told her several times to call me “sis” at home. But Mia never did. There’s a big difference between “Olivia” and “sis.” “Olivia” is formal, for professional interactions. “Sis” acknowledges me as Ethan’s lawfully wedded wife. She knew what she was doing by refusing to use it. One day when I got home from work, I was surprised to see the gardenia I kept on the bedroom windowsill had been replaced with succulents. I loved tending to plants, and Ethan never touched them. “Where are the flowers? They were about to bloom. Why are there succulents now? Did you change them?” Ethan didn’t look up from his computer screen. “Mia probably did it. She said the place needed more greenery and bought some plants at the market.” Mia again. My heart clenched. It was hard not to notice how Mia had been slowly inserting herself into our lives, starting with that towel. The fridge was now full of her favorite drinks and snacks. I could barely find room to store ingredients for cooking. She’d replaced the plain white cotton throw on the couch with a cartoon print one. When I questioned it, she put on an innocent face. “Oh Olivia, I’m so sorry. I accidentally spilled milk on the old one today, so I had to switch it out.” Every time she changed something, she’d excitedly post about it on social media. Ethan liked every single post without fail. It looked like she was just sharing her life, but really she was staking her claim. They were all small things, but like grains of sand in your shoe – tiny, yet irritating. I unceremoniously tossed the succulents in the trash. Ethan looked up in surprise. It was the first time I’d shown any displeasure since Mia moved in. “I don’t like her touching my things.” For once, Ethan didn’t defend Mia. He just nodded seriously. “Don’t go in the master bedroom anymore. I don’t like it.” “Okay.” I thought Ethan had finally grown a conscience and felt guilty. But I forgot – people are quick to agree when they feel ashamed. [Pausing point]

I don’t know what Ethan said to Mia, but when I got home the next day, she was standing in front of me with red-rimmed eyes, clearly having just cried. She wrung her hands, sniffling. “Olivia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize those things bothered you. Please believe me, I was just trying to help out around the house. I didn’t have any other intentions.” “Olivia, Mia’s young and didn’t know better. Don’t hold it against her,” Ethan said. It sounded like he was defending me, but really he was putting me on the spot. I’d only said not to enter the bedroom or touch my things. How did that turn into me holding a grudge? Ethan stubbed out his cigarette. “Mia, start looking for an apartment near the office. There should be some decent options.” At his words, Mia’s eyes went wide. Still red from crying, the look of dismay on her face was even more pronounced. I was confused too and glanced at Ethan. I had never suggested Mia move out. Clearly Ethan hadn’t discussed this with Mia either. She looked shocked and resentful, but swallowed it down. After a glance at me, she meekly agreed. “Okay.” I thought that would be the end of the Mia saga. In a while, Ethan would bring his sixth young, pretty intern to parade around the courthouse, continuing the endless cycle. But I forgot – human nature isn’t something that can be explained by legal codes. When my assistant rushed in to tell me about an emergency meeting, I tried to beg off. She hesitated, then said quietly, “Your Honor, you should probably go. I heard it’s about disciplinary action against you.” My heart jolted, but there it was in black and white on the official document – a disciplinary decision. A photo of a computer document had been posted online showing the damages amount from a traffic accident case I’d presided over. The amount in the photo was vastly different from what I’d actually awarded in the official judgment. Damage awards are based on laws and evidence. A judge can’t just make up whatever number they want. The amount in the photo far exceeded legal limits. Any legal professional would know it was absurd, but the plaintiff didn’t. Believing I’d ruled unfairly, the plaintiff had caused a huge scene at the courthouse. They’d even stirred up a frenzy online. Because of this, I lost my chance at a promotion and raise this year. My pending promotion was also canceled. The meaningful looks and hesitation from my superiors and colleagues made me deeply uncomfortable. Prying eyes in the courthouse multiplied, not even trying to hide their scrutiny anymore. I’d always kept my professional and personal lives separate. My rulings were always careful and fair. My work and career were the foundation of my confidence. I cherished them and never acted carelessly. Now because of this sordid affair, Mia had used underhanded tactics to interfere with my career. Mia, you’ve gone too far. I called Mia directly. Who else would do this? That photo was from my bedroom computer. She must have gone in there, altered the amount, and posted it online! I’d clearly told Ethan I didn’t want anyone in our bedroom! To my shock, the call connected to the sound of passionate moaning. Mia’s breathy gasps came through the phone, growing louder after the call connected. The challenge was unmistakable. I was all too familiar with the muffled grunts of the man on top of her. It was like someone had hit pause on my nervous system. My blood stopped flowing. I froze in place. The disciplinary action and the affair hit me simultaneously, mercilessly. Mia and Ethan were sleeping together. My husband was in the throes of passion with another woman as I listened on the phone. The charade we’d maintained for so long had finally, irrevocably shattered. When I got home, the house was tidy. Only Ethan was there, taking a shower. He came out and smiled brightly at me, not surprised to see me. “You’re home early today!”

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A week before my wedding to Heather, my company sent me on a business trip out of town. The very next day, her ex-boyfriend posted a series of photos of himself in a tuxedo with the caption: “After ten years of love, I finally get to put a ring on your finger.” I was shocked as I stared at the hand adjusting his tie in the picture. There was a long scar on the wrist – the same scar Heather got five years ago when she saved me from an attacker. I called her over a dozen times, but she rejected every call. Finally, unable to contain myself, I commented “Congratulations on your marriage!” under Xavier’s post. Heather immediately replied: “Adam, can’t you be more gracious? Xavier was just helping me rehearse our wedding ceremony since you’re away on your trip. Why are you upset with him? If it weren’t for your business trip, would he have to wear someone else’s tuxedo?” I calmly hung up her call, took off my engagement ring, and decided I was done with this wedding, whoever wanted to get married could go right ahead.

I signed the contract with the client early and flew back to Sunnyville that night. The lights were on in my apartment, accompanied by bursts of laughter. Xavier was lying shirtless on my couch wearing only boxers, his head resting on Heather’s lap as he fed her grapes. Seeing me enter, he scrambled to get up. “Ah!” He turned and buried his face in Heather’s chest, frantically grabbing for clothes. I watched his performance with amusement. We’re both men, what’s there to hide? Heather helped him put on a shirt, then looked up at me in annoyance. “You came back without making a sound. Were you trying to scare Xavier to death?” I laughed mockingly, “What, do I need to announce myself to your lover when I come back to my own home?” Heather’s face darkened instantly. Xavier struggled out of Heather’s arms, “I’m so sorry, Adam. Don’t misunderstand, Heather and I are just friends. We were just chatting and didn’t hear you come in.” “Today was supposed to be your wedding rehearsal, but since you were away, I couldn’t bear to see Heather standing alone at the altar, so I stepped in as her groom. You’re not mad, are you?” I didn’t answer him, momentarily lost in thought as I looked at their matching pajamas, remembering the sweet times Heather and I once shared. I never imagined Xavier’s appearance would make me the third wheel. Heather frowned, thinking I was angry at her ex. “Where are your manners? Didn’t you hear Xavier talking to you?” She threw a paper at me, “This is the schedule for the wedding day. Don’t look at us with such a dirty mind. We were just finishing up the rehearsal.” They certainly seemed to have rehearsed thoroughly, stopping just short of getting naked. I nodded, “You’re right about everything. The wedding night is also part of the ceremony. I suppose you rehearsed that too!” They both froze at my words. Then Xavier’s eyes welled up with tears, as if my words had scared him to tears. “It’s all my fault. Please don’t misunderstand, Adam. I’ll leave right now!” He covered his face and ran out the door. Heather quickly grabbed her coat, glaring at me, “Look what you’ve done. You better apologize to Xavier tomorrow!” She stormed out after him, kicking over my suitcase by the door on her way out. An hour after they left, Xavier updated his SnapChat story. “Thank you for remembering my favorites after ten years. One mention that I was craving it, and you bought me my favorite strawberry roll! I love you so much!” The photo showed a strawberry dessert held up, with half of Heather’s face visible. I suddenly remembered a time when I had a stomachache and wanted a scone from Flag Bakery. I called Heather and asked her to bring me one after work. She ended up carelessly buying me a random bread roll, tossing it to me while muttering, “What’s the difference? Food is food!” Apparently, she did know how to be thoughtful. She just didn’t want to be thoughtful towards me.

I laughed bitterly at myself. I called my mom: “Mom, I’ve decided to come back to Capital City. My flight is in three days.” My mom was clearly surprised, and asked tentatively, “Son, isn’t your wedding in three days? Did that Heather girl bully you?” Five years ago, fresh out of college, I wanted to challenge myself and took an assistant job at a small company. One night after working late, I was cornered in an empty alley by a coworker I was competing with for a client. He took my phone and beat me up, threatening me to keep quiet about it. That day, Heather had just been dumped and came to the city to clear her head. She happened to save me, and my angry coworker pulled out a knife, determined to silence us both. Heather fought back fiercely. With her friend’s help, they subdued my coworker, but Heather’s wrist was badly cut in the process. I took her to the hospital afterwards. The injury to her right hand made it difficult for her to eat. So I brought her meals and fed her every day, falling hard for her warm, sunny smile. Knowing she was heartbroken, I tried extra hard to be good to her. She probably needed someone to distract her, so she gave me a chance. I traveled frequently between Capital City and Sunnyville during that time. It took a year before she truly accepted me. Later, my mom caught us on a date. She said Heather’s family was too humble, not a good match for us. Even if we got married, we wouldn’t be happy. My dad and brother sided with my mom, strongly opposing our relationship. I accused them of being snobs who only cared about money. Then I left Capital City with Heather and never went back. Since then, I only sent perfunctory greetings on holidays. I thought they must hate me for choosing an outsider over family. But hearing the urgency in my mom’s voice, I knew she didn’t blame me at all. She was just worried about me. I couldn’t hold back anymore and started sobbing. Hearing me cry, my mom panicked: “That wretched Heather! Hold on son, I’m coming over there to teach her a lesson!” I quickly stopped crying and stopped her: “Mom, don’t do anything rash! I’m not really hurt, I just finally saw Heather’s true colors and don’t want to marry her anymore!” My mom audibly sighed in relief, then gently comforted me: “I always thought she didn’t seem like the faithful type. Don’t worry, there are plenty of fish in the sea!” “Don’t worry son, I’ll start looking for some nice girls for you right away!” Seeing that my mom was no longer threatening to come over guns blazing, I hung up with a mixture of laughter and tears.

The next day, I called some movers to throw out the couch Heather had been lying on. I replaced all the bedding and even the slippers by the door. Who knows what unspeakable things they did in my apartment while I was gone. It was disgusting. Looks like I need to install security cameras and change the locks too. Then I started clearing out everything related to Heather. This apartment that I bought myself isn’t big, but it’s in a great location, very close to Heather’s office. The house we bought for after the wedding was still being renovated, so we naturally started living together here. The place was full of little mementos from when Heather and I were in love. A wooden carving from Cangshan, a scented sachet from Erhai, a postcard from Yading… I had souvenirs displayed all over the apartment from every place we’d traveled together. I arranged them carefully, labeling each with the date, constantly showcasing every happy journey we’d taken. She would always frown when she saw them, saying they were useless junk. I teased her for having no sense of romance. But after Xavier became her secretary, I clearly saw her desk at work covered in Pop Mart figurines – the exact same ones Xavier had posted about on his SnapChat. Her preference was so obvious, yet I seemed to have been blind to it until now. I took out the suitcase she had bought me and packed up all the mementos, then threw them in the dumpster downstairs. Heather had a lot of clothes, taking up most of my closet. I had only packed up part of it when she came back that night. She frowned at the clothes packed in boxes: “Why are you packing up my clothes?” I casually made an excuse: “We’re moving into the new house after the wedding anyway. Might as well start packing now.” Heather tossed a bag in front of me: “Here, eat this. Xavier bought it specially for you, went to several stores to find it.” “Not only does he not need your apology, he even bought you a treat. You should really learn from him.” I took out the half-eaten strawberry roll and held it up to Heather, laughing sarcastically: “I didn’t know Flag Bakery sold cakes that were already half-eaten.” She clearly hadn’t paid attention to what Xavier put in the bag, or maybe she just didn’t care. Seeing the half-eaten cake, she quickly tried to cover: “You upset Xavier so much he cried. It’s understandable if he accidentally packed the wrong thing in his distress. Don’t be so petty, be more generous.” I nodded and tossed the cake in the trash. Heather’s face darkened: “What are you being so picky for? You think just anyone deserves to eat food from Xavier’s mouth?” I waved my hand in disgust, kicking the trash can a meter away: “I’m not his lapdog. Why would I eat his leftovers? That’s just gross.” Heather was furious. She grabbed the cake from the trash and tried to force it into my mouth. I struggled to push her away, but lost my balance and fell backwards, my head hitting the floor with a loud thud. I immediately saw stars, curling up and holding the back of my head. Heather was startled by the sound of me falling. She hurriedly helped me up: “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to. I’ll take you to the hospital!” My head was spinning as I let her lead me towards the door. Just then, Heather’s phone rang with Xavier’s special ringtone. “Xavier, what’s wrong?” Xavier was crying on the other end. “Heather, the power went out where I’m staying. My phone only has 10% battery left. It’s so dark everywhere, I’m really scared. Can you come keep me company?” “Stay in your room and don’t move. I’ll be right there! Don’t be afraid, I’ll be there in 10 minutes!” Heather hung up in a rush, eager to leave. She hung up and pushed me aside: “You seem fine. No bleeding or bumps. Just sleep it off if you’re not feeling well.” I grabbed her sleeve, looking at her pleadingly: “No, Heather. I’m dizzy. Take me to the hospital first, it’ll only take a few minutes!” She shook me off irritably: “Adam, can’t you be more understanding? Xavier has been afraid of the dark since he was little. Can you take responsibility if something happens to him?” “Xavier only knows me in Sunnyville. I have to go. If something really happened to him, I’d never forgive myself!” My vision was going dark in patches. I gritted my teeth and asked: “What about me? Aren’t you worried I might…” “What could possibly happen to you? Faking illness out of jealousy is a weak woman’s trick. Don’t try it, it doesn’t suit you!” She impatiently cut me off, then opened the door and left.

I collapsed on the floor, my head getting fuzzier. I mustered all my strength to pull out my phone and called 911 for myself. An hour later, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. A nurse immediately asked me some basic information. Seeing that I could answer coherently, she finally relaxed. “Luckily, you only have a mild concussion. Rest up, watch your diet, and avoid stimulation for the next few days. You’ll be fine soon.” I nodded eagerly, feeling a dull pain in my head. The young nurse quickly steadied me, telling me to rest well. The next day I felt a bit better, so I went for a walk in the hallway. Just as I reached the corner, I saw Heather helping Xavier out of the elevator. The two were chatting and laughing like a loving couple. She could see me out of the corner of her eye, but deliberately looked away. The nurse on duty hurried over to greet them: “Ms. Heather, your partner’s test results are back. It’s just a minor sprain, no bone damage. Just take it easy walking for a few days and he’ll recover soon.” Partner. I was frozen in place by those two words. Five years ago, I defied my family to return to Sunnyville with her. I supported Heather as we built her small family business into Sunnyville’s leading company. She said she would never betray me in this life, that I would be her only love. But the person who once made such firm promises now casually allowed another man to be called her partner. Heather pulled Xavier closer, gently bumping his chin. “See, I told you it was nothing serious. Feel better now?” Xavier in her arms looked blissful, reaching up to tap her nose. When they looked up, their eyes met mine. “Oh! It’s Adam.” Xavier struggled out of Heather’s arms, but winced in pain before his foot touched the ground. Heather glared at me coldly, as if I was the one who had sprained her lover’s ankle. “Adam, can’t you be more generous? You’re so jealous you followed us to the hospital? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Xavier tugged at Heather’s hand, looking at her disapprovingly: “Heather, you shouldn’t talk to Adam like that. Boyfriends are meant to be cherished, not yelled at.” He then turned to me with an understanding look: “Adam, the power went out and it was so dark, I accidentally sprained my ankle. That’s why I troubled Heather to bring me to the hospital.” “Heather was just worried about me. She didn’t mean to make you jealous. Please don’t be angry.” Seeing that I didn’t respond, his expression immediately turned pitiful. His voice got softer and softer, on the verge of tears. “I’ll leave now. I’m used to being alone anyway. My fate is to be lonely forever.” He stubbornly lifted one leg and hopped forward, eyes red-rimmed. Heather panicked and quickly steadied him. “Adam, you’re going too far! Why do you have to bully Xavier?” She was like a woman with glass eyes, unable to see the hospital gown I was wearing, the wristband on my arm, or my pale face. She was convinced I had come just to make a scene out of jealousy. I couldn’t hold back anymore and cursed out loud. “Heather, are you blind? I’m standing here without saying a word. How dare you accuse me of bullying him? Are you basing this on your imagination?” “Do you two have a persecution complex or something?” “If you’re sick, get treatment before it’s too late!” She was stunned by my outburst. Her hand slipped and Xavier fell to the ground with a thud. The hallway echoed with his pig-like squeal! Heather frantically helped the pained Xavier up. Once again furious: “Adam, you keep hurting Xavier. Do you not want to get married?” What a joke. She’s the pot calling the kettle black. Only seeing others’ faults, not her own. Her weak grip caused this, yet she blames me? The last shred of hope I had was completely shattered. “Yes, so Heather, the wedding is cancelled. We’re breaking up!” I vented my anger, then checked out of the hospital that afternoon. I hired someone to install security cameras in and outside my apartment, and had the locks changed.

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After a multi-car collision, my girlfriend rushed to care for the culprit who caused my injuries. Faced with my plea for help, she remained indifferent. “If it weren’t for you, Ethan wouldn’t have broken his leg!” “Now you’re whining about a little pain, I never knew you were such a crybaby!” It was then that I realized the injured man across from me was my girlfriend’s first love. Watching their intimate expressions, I suddenly felt like I was in the way. “Dr. Parker, this patient’s injuries are severe and require immediate surgery!” “Put him aside, he won’t die.” My girlfriend Olivia was currently supporting her first love, hurriedly rushing him to the emergency room. As for me, lying on the ground bleeding profusely, she acted as if she couldn’t see me. Just as I felt my life slipping away, she finally walked slowly to my side and coldly said, “If you hadn’t suddenly rushed out, how could Ethan have broken his leg!” “That was his brand new motorcycle, you’ll have to compensate him when you recover!” I tried my best to explain, but was met with her hateful glare. In that moment, my heart sank into endless darkness. Today, I had originally planned to give her a surprise. I didn’t expect that as soon as I turned into that small alley, I would be knocked down by a motorcycle. The culprit was Ethan, the first love Olivia could never let go of in her heart. He was clearly speeding, but ended up in much better shape than me. When he was finally rescued, he only had a broken leg. I called Olivia for help, but when she arrived she ignored me, She even kicked me hard, causing my wound to tear open and bleed heavily. We had been together for five years and were at the stage of discussing marriage. But now I just felt incredibly stupid. In Olivia’s heart, I probably wasn’t even worth a thousandth of Ethan. As if to punish me, Olivia used her position as a doctor to deliberately delay putting me in an ambulance for fifteen minutes. By the time I arrived at the hospital, my last shred of hope had been shattered. As I gradually lost consciousness, I passed out. The last thought in my mind was to completely break things off with Olivia. Since she was so infatuated with Ethan, even disregarding my life for him, I should recognize my place and let them be together! When I regained consciousness, Ethan was in the bed next to mine. Olivia was smiling as she fed him some nutritious soup, “I brought it in a thermos so it’s the perfect temperature, try it.” Noticing I was awake, she glared at me impatiently. “If you want to eat something, order delivery yourself. Don’t expect me to take care of you!” I thought my heart had already turned to ashes, but hearing her speak like this, tears still involuntarily streamed down my face. Seeing this, Olivia took it as me making a fuss. “What are you crying for? You’re always causing trouble, it’s so annoying!” “Let me tell you Jack, Ethan is irreplaceable in my heart. You could never measure up no matter how hard you try!” Hearing this, Ethan’s eyes were full of smugness as he looked at me provocatively, “Sorry bro, Olivia and I go way back. You don’t mind, do you?” In the past, hearing words like this would have sent me into a rage. But now, I just calmly wiped away my tears and smiled indifferently. “Of course I don’t mind. She’s your girlfriend, not mine.” Olivia’s face turned ashen as she glared at me. I ignored her and called my mother directly, “Mom, I’m in the hospital. Can you come pick me up?”

Olivia thought I was bluffing, “Don’t think calling your mom over will scare me. Jack, this is all you’re capable of.” I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to waste any more words. When my mom arrived with her assistant in a hurry, Olivia was shocked to realize I wasn’t putting on an act. She blocked my mom, “Auntie, he’s still hospitalized. It’s not appropriate to take him away right after surgery, is it?” My mom already had a poor impression of Olivia, and now she pushed her aside without hesitation. “You’re just a small-time doctor, how dare you delay my son’s treatment? Let me tell you, this hospital’s major investor has deep ties with our family. If you keep causing trouble, I’ll make sure you can never work in this field again!” Olivia had become an attending physician at a young age and prided herself on her medical skills, which made her attitude arrogant. In reality, I had been quietly supporting her all along. To protect her pride, I never revealed the truth. So now she didn’t believe it at all, thinking my mom was just bluffing. “You’re lying! I got to where I am today through my own abilities and experience. How could I possibly rely on this good-for-nothing?” The assistant immediately stepped forward, glaring at her fiercely. Olivia instantly shut her mouth, and Ethan beside her was too scared to make a sound. Afterwards, mom carefully carried me out of the hospital and transferred me to the city’s best private hospital. “Rest easy and focus on recovery. The Taylor family’s daughter has been waiting. Now that you’ve agreed, we can set the wedding date today.” I nodded weakly and closed my eyes, my mind in chaos. Not long after, a message came from Olivia. “Isn’t your family just a small company? Why bother putting on this act? Who are you trying to fool?” “I’m warning you Jack, stop making up ridiculous stories to trick me, or we’re completely done!” Even at this point, she still thought I was lying to her. I took a deep breath to calm myself, then replied bluntly, “Let’s break up. Consider these years as me feeding a dog.” “I hope you and your dear Ethan live happily ever after. Don’t go ruining anyone else’s life.” After sending that, I promptly set her to Do Not Disturb. Thinking back to when we first got together, Olivia was the one who actively pursued me. She told me Ethan was just a close friend. It wasn’t until I accidentally discovered their flirtatious text messages that she admitted they had been in a relationship before. “Don’t worry, you’re the only one in my heart now. He’s in the past for me.” She was so earnest then, and I chose to believe her. I thought she truly loved me as she claimed. But I never expected that behind my back, she and Ethan had already rekindled their old flame. This accident also let me see her true colors completely. As I was lost in thought, my phone suddenly rang again. It was a friend request from Emma. Mom sent me a message asking us to get to know each other. After accepting the request, I didn’t chat much with her and continued resting. For all these years, I had never revealed my true family background to Olivia. So she always thought I was just an ordinary young man, and everything I did was to win her back. But I’m also incredibly grateful that I didn’t tell her in advance that my family’s company had long been the city’s leading enterprise, with substantial assets and business across multiple sectors.

My injuries were severe, and I had to recuperate in the hospital for a full month. During this month, Olivia never contacted me. Instead, she frequently updated her social media, going on trips with Ethan. I thought my heart had already turned to stone, but seeing those photos still made my chest ache uncontrollably. It felt like a boulder was pressing on my chest, the suffocating feeling making me dizzy. Five whole years of love, yet it was so worthless in her heart. Even though I had given her so much, in the end I was just a prop in her love story with Ethan. I’m being discharged the day after tomorrow. Mom told me Emma will come to pick me up too. We’ve chatted a few times during this period. Her personality is completely different from Olivia’s. When it comes to work, her passion is no less than mine. “Got it Mom, I’ll be ready.” Looking at my scruffy, haggard reflection in the mirror, I seemed to have aged ten years in an instant. Thinking back, Olivia used to nag me about my appearance every time we went out. She bought me vintage glasses and picked out flashy shirts that didn’t suit my style, making me look like a clown. Later I realized it was because Ethan liked that kind of look. She treated me as Ethan’s shadow, while claiming she only loved me. Every year on her birthday, I would meticulously prepare surprises. When it came to my birthday, she always used work at the hospital as an excuse to cancel. The only birthday gift she ever gave me was a freebie that came with something she bought for Ethan. It’s not that I never argued with her, but each time she would threaten to break up. I couldn’t bear to end the relationship, so I kept enduring it. If I hadn’t been injured by Ethan this time, I don’t know how long I would have remained deluded. Tomorrow when I’m discharged, I need to go to our shared apartment to pick up the cat I raised. It was a gift I gave her. Olivia was excited about it at first, but soon lost interest. I had to clean the house and take care of the kitten, exhausted every day. Olivia was nonchalant: “I’m training you. Otherwise how will you take care of me after we’re married?” I haven’t looked after the cat for a month. I don’t know how she and Ethan have been treating it. Thinking of this, I became extremely anxious and quickly called my assistant to check on the cat’s condition. When I heard the cat’s pitiful meowing in the video, my heart clenched. The cat’s name is Coco, a sweet orange tabby. I cared for it deeply and was always afraid of it getting even slightly hurt. But after such a short time in Olivia’s hands, it had been mistreated like this. She was the one who insisted on getting a pet, yet she didn’t cherish it at all. For some reason, a wave of sorrow washed over me. Coco’s fate was so similar to mine. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. So I asked my assistant to go pick up Coco. Olivia was still traveling, no one was home, And I didn’t want to have any more entanglements with her anyway. “Boss, the password you gave me doesn’t work. I can’t get in.” I hadn’t expected Olivia to change the lock on the apartment. I paused briefly, then gave Ethan’s birthday as the new code. This time the door opened, and my assistant was able to bring Coco out safely. I didn’t expect Olivia to be so heartless. I was the one who rented the apartment. She never paid a cent for utilities. Yet just to spite me, she changed the lock without telling me. Perhaps seeing this through the security camera, Olivia contacted me after a long silence. “Who told you to break into my home and steal the cat? That’s burglary, I’m calling the police!” “I’ll make sure you get a criminal record and ruin your life, unless you keep paying me rent and apologize.” She accused me self-righteously, as if I was truly the one who had done wrong. In the past, I was always the first to apologize after every argument. She never backed down. This first time she actively reached out to me, it was for money. “So you do know I paid the rent? Aren’t you the one illegally occupying someone else’s home? I’m giving you one week to move out. Don’t let me see you again.” I retorted angrily, trying to suppress my rage. Olivia was dismissive, “It’s just rent, right? As an attending physician, I make over $20,000 a month. I don’t need your pocket change.” “Fine, I’ll move. But I’m telling you, don’t come begging me to get back together when you regret it later!” I didn’t respond further, not wanting to waste more words on her. Ethan chimed in at this point: “Come on, don’t make things too tense because of me. Let’s all talk it out calmly.” “Jack, just apologize. Olivia won’t hold it against you.” He came to stay at our rented apartment every week and even had his own room. They both relied on me to live, so naturally they didn’t want to completely cut ties. In the past, for Olivia’s sake, I put up with everything and endured a lot of grief from Ethan. But now I couldn’t take it anymore, “You really think I’m a sucker? I haven’t done anything wrong. The ones who are wrong are people like you with no moral bottom line.”

My assistant just sent me photos of the apartment. Looking closely, I noticed opened boxes of birth control pills scattered on the coffee table. They had clearly been used. Whether Olivia had betrayed me or not, the answer was obvious. I had thought she had only emotionally strayed from our relationship, But now I realized she may have crossed the line with Ethan long ago. Suddenly, a strong wave of nausea hit me. I felt utterly disgusted. After hanging up, Olivia seemed unsatisfied and posted a public update on social media. In the photo, she and Ethan were embracing tightly at his academic lecture. But the research results displayed on the podium were all my hard work. I originally had a background in scientific research and had made a name for myself in the field. Later Olivia complained that burying myself in research was useless, so she forbade me from continuing. But when she found out Ethan was interested in research, she forced me to do research for him, Crediting all the results I had spent countless hours on to Ethan. “Fine, I won’t hold it against you this time. There’s an academic symposium the day after tomorrow. Go in Ethan’s place.” “Talk about your insights on the research. Of course, tell everyone you’re just Ethan’s assistant.” I was deep in thought when Olivia’s message came through. Seeing this content, a wave of mockery welled up inside me. These were clearly my achievements, yet I had to help them deceive everyone. Ethan had even gained quite a bit of praise and prestige because of this. But it should all belong to me. Even if I had to destroy it, I absolutely couldn’t let these despicable thieves benefit! I lowered my head and was silent for a moment, then decisively agreed. Since they were so shameless, they couldn’t blame me for being merciless when I exposed everything! Seeing that I agreed, Olivia sent over the speech. “Just read this when it’s time. Don’t cause any trouble, or we’re breaking up immediately!” I sneered, not bothering to respond.

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At a raging fire scene, I ran into the flames to protect my stepson. Meanwhile, my wife turned off her phone to attend her ex-husband’s concert. I gave up my chance to escape so my stepson could be rescued. But once he was safe, he ran into his biological father’s arms, crying uncontrollably. To celebrate his survival, the three of them decided to go out for a lavish dinner. They completely forgot about me, the one still struggling to survive in the fire. Standing by the window, surrounded by flames and thick smoke, I watched their backs as they walked away together. I closed my eyes and leaped from the 18th floor. Miraculously, I survived. I chose to divorce her and leave the country. The stepson who once resented my discipline clung to my leg, crying, “Dad, please don’t leave me.” The wife who once dismissed my love grabbed my hand, pleading, “Honey, don’t go.” I was at work when I got a call from my neighbor: “Your apartment is on fire.” My heart sank. Thinking of my wife and stepson, I immediately jumped into my car, speeding home while frantically dialing my wife’s number. But no one answered. The thought of my wife and stepson trapped in the fire made my anxiety skyrocket. I floored the gas pedal. When I finally arrived at our apartment complex, thick black smoke was billowing from the windows on the 18th floor. Ignoring everyone’s attempts to stop me, I couldn’t wait for the firefighters to arrive. I ran straight into the building and up the stairs to our apartment. By the time I reached our floor, I was out of breath, and the hallway was already filled with choking smoke. I yelled my wife’s and stepson’s names, but no one responded. With shaking hands, I pulled out my keys and tried to unlock the door, but the intense heat had warped it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get it open. I had no choice but to step back and kick the door with all my strength. The impact sent a sharp pain through my leg, and I felt like my bones might snap. After several desperate attempts, the door finally gave way, and I stumbled inside. The smoke was so thick I could barely see. I covered my nose and mouth with my sleeve, shouting my wife’s and stepson’s names as I crouched to avoid the flames. Dodging the fire, limping on my injured leg, I searched through the apartment until I found my stepson huddled in the corner of the living room. He was terrified but unharmed. Relief washed over me as I knelt down and pulled him into my arms. “Tommy, don’t be scared. Daddy’s here to save you.” I grabbed my 8-year-old stepson’s arm, trying to lead him to safety. But Tommy was too scared to move. He clung to me, crying and begging, “Daddy, please carry me!” With no other choice, I lifted him into my arms despite the pain in my leg and started making my way toward the door. I kept calling my wife’s name, hoping she would answer. Thankfully, the firefighters arrived just in time. I handed Tommy over to one of them. As the firefighter held my crying stepson, I wiped the soot off Tommy’s face and asked, “Tommy, where’s your mom? Where is she?” Tommy lowered his head, avoiding my gaze, and whispered, “Mom’s in the bedroom… she’s sleeping.” The flames were spreading rapidly, leaving no time to think. Hearing that my wife was still in the bedroom, I turned back toward the fire without hesitation. The firefighter, holding Tommy with one arm, blocked my path with his other hand and handed me an oxygen mask. “The fire is too dangerous. I’ll go in to rescue her. Put this on and take your son downstairs.” But I shook my head and placed the oxygen mask over Tommy’s face instead. Patting my possibly fractured leg, I pleaded with the firefighter. “My son is too scared to walk on his own, and I can’t carry him down 18 flights of stairs like this. Please, take him to safety. My wife is still in the bedroom—I can’t leave her behind. I’m begging you.” Before the firefighter could respond, I turned and disappeared into the thick smoke. With no choice, the firefighter carried Tommy downstairs, radioing for backup as he went.

Dragging my injured leg, every step sent searing pain through my body, but I couldn’t stop. The fire was raging, and yet my wife wasn’t with our son. Had she passed out somewhere? Or worse, was she already gone? The horrible possibilities pushed me forward, ignoring the pain, as I searched every room. I kept shouting her name, and finally made my way to the bedroom—but the bed was empty. Thinking of her usual habits, I turned and limped toward her studio. When I slammed into the door of her studio, a surge of hot air knocked me to the ground, and the flames instantly engulfed the room. It hit me then—her studio was packed with fabric and over a hundred dresses. Now they were all burning together, feeding the uncontrollable fire. I remembered all the arguments we’d had over this studio. My wife, a fashion designer, had spent countless hours creating suits and gowns for her ex-husband, Noah Green, who was also Tommy’s biological father. I had accused her of crossing boundaries too many times, but she always dismissed my concerns, saying I was being unreasonable. I’d even joked once that I’d burn all the dresses she’d so carefully designed for Noah. Now, as I watched the flames devour them, I felt no satisfaction—only despair. The choking smoke stung my eyes and lungs, forcing me to the ground, coughing violently. My injured leg could no longer support me. Driven by survival instinct, I crawled toward the balcony, my skin burning, the fiery heat making me dizzy. I pressed my face against the narrow cracks in the balcony railing, desperately gulping the thin, smoky air outside. Lying there, I peered down at the crowd gathering below. My sharp eyesight immediately picked out my son, standing safely among them. Relief hit me like a wave. Tommy was safe. At least he didn’t perish in this fire with me. Tears I had held back finally spilled down my soot-covered face. I thought back to the day my wife gave birth to Tommy. Not long after, she divorced Noah, who had abandoned his family to chase his dream of becoming a world-famous pianist. Six months later, she married me—her childhood friend who had loved her for years. For seven years, I had raised Tommy as my own, dedicating everything to him. To me, he was no different from my biological son. But now, the thought of him losing both his mother and me broke my heart into pieces. And yet, my wife… Where was she? Was she still waiting for me somewhere in this burning apartment? Clinging to the railing, I forced my battered body to stand again, ready to continue the search. But then, a familiar car pulled up and parked below. My heart sank. Out of the car stepped two people: my wife, Emily, and her ex-husband, Noah Green. At that moment, I didn’t know whether my sharp vision was a blessing or a curse. Hadn’t Tommy said Emily was in the bedroom sleeping? How could she be outside—with him? Then I remembered: today was Noah’s big comeback concert. So that’s where she had been. She left our son home alone to attend her ex-husband’s concert. Did she even know how close Tommy had come to dying in the fire? Couldn’t she have brought him with her? None of it made sense to me, but I had no time to think. I was dying. The smoke was suffocating me, and I clung to the balcony railing, trying to breathe the scorching air. Looking down, I saw the three of them embracing. Even from here, I could hear Tommy’s innocent voice calling out, “Daddy!” But he wasn’t calling me. He was calling Noah. Emily wrapped her arms around both Noah and Tommy, and to the onlookers, they probably seemed like a happy little family. None of them looked back at the burning building. None of them thought about me, still trapped inside. After a brief moment of tears, they turned and walked away, hand in hand. I watched their backs as they disappeared into the distance. Despair washed over me. I closed my eyes, unwilling to believe that the wife and son I loved so deeply could abandon me without a second thought. But deep down, I had known this day would come. Ever since Noah returned to town, I had noticed the changes in my wife and son. Emily’s true love had always been Noah. I was nothing more than her second choice, the man she settled for when she needed someone to give Tommy a stable home. Back then, Noah had left her and their newborn son without looking back, choosing his career over his family. Emily married me because she wanted to give Tommy a complete family. For years, I had hoped my love and devotion would thaw her heart. I was wrong. Even during those years when Noah was gone, he had never truly left Emily’s heart. The rows of suits and dresses she designed for him in her studio were proof enough of that. I remembered once asking her to make me a custom suit. She had snapped at me: “Why would I waste time making something for you? You don’t even have an occasion to wear it! Stop bothering me. Noah has a European tour coming up next month, and I promised him a new outfit for every performance.” I had left her studio that day, pale and humiliated. Now, I finally understood. I had never stood a chance. With Noah back in her life, it was only a matter of time before she and Tommy returned to him. As for Tommy, I had foolishly hoped he would choose to stay with me. But in the end, I was no match for his real father. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Tommy’s excited laughter as he asked to celebrate with a big dinner. Emily and Noah’s warm, affectionate voices agreed. I opened my eyes one last time to confirm what I already knew. Their car was pulling away. Emily smiled as she reminded Noah and Tommy to buckle up. From the backseat, Tommy tilted his chubby face up, asking Noah to wipe the soot off his cheeks. It was over. They were gone. At that moment, I realized they had truly abandoned me. Perhaps they thought it would be better if I died here in silence. But I wasn’t ready to disappear without a trace. Even if my family had forsaken me, I still wanted to live—for myself. The flames blocked the door, leaving no way out. I turned to the balcony, where a childproof safety net had been installed to protect Tommy. Dragging my injured leg, I crawled to a corner of the balcony where an old iron plant stand was bolted to the wall. Using all my strength, I tore the net, widening the hole just enough for me to fit through. The flames were licking at my back, and the heat was unbearable. With no time left to hesitate, I squeezed through the gap and leaped from the 18th floor.

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My son was suffering from an aortic dissection and needed immediate surgery. My wife, Emily Walker, was a renowned cardiac specialist. But I didn’t call her. Instead, I hailed a cab and rushed straight to the hospital. In my previous life, I had begged her to return with the ambulance to save our son. She had arranged the hospital bed and prepared for surgery. But because Emily forgot her phone that day, her childhood friend, Alex Shea, who was suffering a heart attack, couldn’t reach her. He died in the ambulance. Emily disappeared for three months after that. When she came back, she seemed normal on the surface. She even volunteered to cook for our son’s birthday party. But she had laced the food with drugs. Then, she pinned me to the ground, gripping my neck as she slit my throat. “This is all your fault!” she screamed. “If I hadn’t gone back for our son, Alex wouldn’t be dead! Your entire family is to blame, and you all deserve to pay for it!” When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day my son’s heart condition first struck. This time, Emily answered Alex’s call. But little did she know, she would one day beg me for forgiveness.

“Mr. Walker, I understand how worried you must be, but there really aren’t any available beds,” said Sue Tanner, one of Emily’s colleagues and today’s attending physician. After being reborn, the first thing I had done was drive my son to the hospital. But Sue didn’t even glance at my son before blocking us from entering the cardiac unit. My son was crying silently. He had been too weak to even say he was in pain during the car ride. My mother was panicked, pacing back and forth. “What do you mean there are no beds? I just saw an empty bed in there! Can’t we use that one?” Sue didn’t even flinch. “That bed is already reserved for another patient.” My mother’s face flushed with anger. “Reserved? Since when can hospital beds be reserved? Isn’t it first come, first served? My grandson is seriously ill! How can you just turn him away? What kind of doctor are you?” Sue’s expression turned icy. “Calm down. I don’t see anything about him that looks like a heart condition. Do you know how long people wait for a bed here? Why should he be treated immediately just because you walked in?” Turning her attention to me, she added, “Mr. Walker, I don’t want to make this any uglier than it needs to be. But if you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to call security.” Her words carried a thinly veiled disgust, as if we were pulling some sort of scam. In just a few minutes, a crowd had gathered. Whispers started to spread. “Everyone here has waited weeks for a bed. Who do they think they are, demanding one right away?” “Faking an illness to jump the line? Why don’t they just buy the whole hospital if they’re so entitled?” The insults kept coming. My son lay trembling in my mother’s arms, his body drenched in sweat. His small voice broke through the noise. “Dad, Grandma… it hurts so much. Please… help me.” Hearing his words felt like a knife stabbing into my chest. The pain reached all the way to my skull. But no matter how desperate his condition, Sue refused to believe he had an aortic dissection. My mom, on the verge of tears, pleaded with her. “Please, doctor, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. Just take a look at my grandson. He’s in so much pain.” Sue crossed her arms, her tone growing even colder. “Hospital policy is clear: no admission, no treatment.” My mother, now completely distraught, raised her fists as if to strike. I quickly stepped in to stop her. Looking Sue directly in the eye, I said firmly, “Sue, my son doesn’t have a regular heart condition. He has an aortic dissection. You know how critical this is. He needs surgery immediately.” My tone must have startled her because she finally dropped her nonchalant demeanor. But then she laughed. “You’re really committed to this act, aren’t you, Evan?” she sneered. “Did Google not tell you that kids don’t get aortic dissections? When Emily told me you’d do anything to take Alex’s bed, I didn’t believe her. But using your own child in this ridiculous charade? That’s beyond disgusting.” Her words dripped with contempt. I didn’t have time to argue. I knew how urgent my son’s condition was. An aortic dissection is rare enough in adults, with a one-in-100,000 chance of occurring and a nearly 100% fatality rate if untreated. In children, it’s almost unheard of. The only doctor in the country capable of performing this surgery was the head of this very department. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper or waste another second explaining. I glanced at my son, his lips turning blue from the pain. A wave of despair washed over me, stealing the air from my lungs. I knew Sue wouldn’t admit him. Clenching my teeth, I turned and ran straight to the head nurse’s office.

The cardiology department where Emily Walker worked was one of the most renowned in the country. Patients lined up for weeks, even months, just to get a chance at treatment. And yet, no matter how full the hospital was, there was always one empty bed reserved in the department. That bed wasn’t for emergencies. It was for Alex Shea, Emily’s childhood friend. In my previous life, when my son suddenly developed a heart condition, I called Emily, desperate for help. At first, she told me there were no available beds. But after my repeated begging, she finally agreed to let my son use that reserved bed temporarily. She even came back with the ambulance to ensure he was admitted. But in the half hour she spent helping our son, Alex suffered a heart attack. He tried calling Emily, but she didn’t have her phone on her. He died in the ambulance. Emily didn’t return home after that. She disappeared for three months. When she finally came back, our son had already recovered and been discharged from the hospital. Emily resigned from her prestigious position, saying she wanted to spend more time with our family. She drove me to work every day, cooked meals for us, and helped our son with his homework every evening. I thought she had finally let go of her grief and found her way back to us. But on our son’s birthday, she poisoned all of us. My son and my mother died in agony. As for me, she injected me with something to keep me conscious. Then she drove me to Alex’s grave and forced me to kneel, demanding I apologize to him. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong. Alex had always had a weak heart. Even after his heart transplant, he refused to take his medication, which led to frequent heart failure. The day he died, he had a heart attack but didn’t call 911 right away. By the time his neighbor found him and called an ambulance, Alex insisted on being taken to Emily’s hospital, 30 kilometers away, instead of the one just down the street from his home. I couldn’t understand why Emily blamed me for everything. “He did this to himself,” I told her. But Emily wouldn’t hear it. Tears streaming down her face, she screamed, “Our son was fine! How does a child suddenly develop a heart condition? You did something to make me miss Alex’s call that day! You killed him!” “Evan, I’ve told you over and over—Alex and I were just friends. But you couldn’t leave him alone. You pushed him to this! He stopped taking his medication because of you! If anyone deserves to die, it’s you!” I couldn’t comprehend her twisted logic. But she didn’t give me the chance to explain. “You killed Alex,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “Now you’ll know what it feels like to die of a broken heart.” With that, she sliced into my chest with a scalpel and crushed my heart with her bare hands. The memory of that pain still lingered, sharp and vivid. I shuddered at the thought, snapping back to the present. My son’s fragile condition was the only thing on my mind. Bursting into the head nurse’s office, I fell to my knees. “Please, Nurse Carter,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “I know you can assign beds. We don’t even need a room—just let us stay in the hallway. My son has an aortic dissection. Dr. Lee is the only one in the city who can perform the surgery. Please, I’m begging you—save my son!” I dropped my head to the ground, bowing so hard that the sound echoed in the room. The head nurse hesitated, her expression softening. Finally, she picked up her phone and started walking toward the door. But before she could leave, Sue Tanner stepped in front of her. “Nurse Carter, you’re not seriously falling for this, are you?” Sue said with a snide grin. “Can’t you see he’s just putting on a show?” Then she turned to me, her tone dripping with contempt. “Let me tell you something about Evan,” she said loudly, ensuring everyone in the surrounding area could hear. “Back when Emily was planning to move abroad with her first love, Alex, Evan sent an anonymous letter to sabotage them. He even used his father, the hospital director, to pressure Emily into marrying him instead. “This man will do anything to get his way. And now, he’s using his kid to play the victim. For all we know, his son doesn’t even have an aortic dissection. Maybe he hurt the boy himself just to make this look convincing.” Nurse Carter lowered her phone, visibly hesitant. “I’m sorry, Mr. Walker,” she said gently. “Without a formal diagnosis, I can’t admit your son. It’s hospital policy.” My heart plummeted. I thought that by not calling Emily, she would stay with Alex, and the tragedy from my past life wouldn’t repeat itself. But I hadn’t expected her to go this far—to instruct her colleagues to block my son from being admitted. Just as despair began to consume me, I heard my mother scream. “Evan! Hurry! It’s Little Nick—he’s not breathing!”

I bolted forward. My son was slumped over my mother’s shoulder, his small arm hanging lifelessly. I reached out to feel his carotid artery. Nothing. No pulse. My heart clenched, and my mind went blank. Instinctively, I shouted, “Lay him flat on the ground! Quickly!” My mother gently lowered him to the floor. I dropped to my knees and started performing CPR on my son. I pressed down on his chest, keeping my movements steady, while my mother turned to the nurses’ station. She fell to her knees, crying and begging, “Please, help us! My grandson is dying! Are you really going to just stand there and watch?” The crowd of onlookers fell silent, their expressions frozen in shock. One of the nurses hesitated, clearly wanting to help, but once again, Sue Tanner stepped in to block her. “Please don’t interfere with hospital operations,” Sue said coldly, as if we were merely a nuisance. Even without assistance, I kept going. After a few agonizing minutes, I felt my son’s pulse return. His eyelids fluttered, and he let out a weak whisper. “Dad…” Relief surged through me. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged him tightly. But as the realization hit me—that my son had nearly died right there on the floor of a hospital—I felt an ache so deep it was suffocating. “Dad,” my son said softly, his voice trembling. “Am I going to die? Isn’t this where Mom works? Why isn’t she helping me?” His innocent words pierced through the air, silencing everyone around us. I saw a few people in the crowd wipe tears from their eyes. Finally, someone spoke. “Dr. Tanner, this doesn’t seem fake. Maybe you should take a look at the boy,” a man suggested hesitantly. “Yeah,” a woman chimed in. “This could be serious. Just examine him—if it’s all fake, then fine, but what if it’s not?” The crowd began pleading on our behalf, but Sue remained unmoved. “Evan,” she sneered, “you’ve really gone all out, haven’t you? What’s next? Practicing CPR at home to perfect this performance? Too bad your technique is so sloppy.” She crossed her arms and continued, “Besides, Emily’s with Alex right now. Your little drama here is pointless.” I couldn’t believe it. Even after everything, Sue still didn’t believe my son was truly sick. Anger boiled inside me. “Sue,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “what have I ever done to you to deserve this ridicule? Even if I’ve made mistakes, there are laws to hold me accountable. But what about my son? What has he done to deserve this? You call yourself a doctor, but you refuse to even examine a patient. Do you even deserve to wear that white coat?” My words struck a nerve, and the crowd erupted again. “He’s right! Who would use their own child to fake something like this?” “Exactly! If you think it’s fake, prove it! Just use a stethoscope and check!” For the first time, Sue hesitated. Her face darkened, and she reluctantly pulled out her stethoscope. She leaned down, finally ready to listen to my son’s heartbeat. But before she could, her phone rang. She answered it immediately. “Emily? Where are you? Your husband is causing a scene in the department,” Sue said, her voice laced with irritation. Hearing that name sent a chill down my spine. The voice on the other end was cold. “I’m with Alex. He’s been admitted,” Emily said. “Kick them out. I’ll deal with them after Alex is stable.” There was a brief pause before Emily added, “And that bed? It’s reserved for Alex. Nobody else touches it.” Hearing those words, my mother broke into uncontrollable sobs. “Emily, are you insane? That’s your own son! How can you let him die? Don’t you have any sense of guilt?” she screamed into the phone. Emily let out a bitter laugh. “No one is more important than Alex. If my son has to die, then so be it.” I quickly covered my son’s ears, but I was too late. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with confusion and pain. “Dad… why does Mom want me to die?” I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. What could I possibly say to him? Emily hung up the phone. Sue looked down at me with a smug expression. “You heard her,” she said. “Now take your son and leave. Stop embarrassing yourself.” Just then, I saw a familiar figure at the door. It was Nurse Carter, and she wasn’t alone. Standing beside her was Dr. Lee, the department head. My heart leapt with hope. Holding my son tightly, I ran toward them. “Dr. Lee, please! Look at my son! Dr. Tanner refused to admit him. I think he has an aortic dissection, but no one will listen!” Dr. Lee didn’t hesitate. She placed the stethoscope on my son’s chest, her expression growing darker with every passing second. Sue followed, her voice dripping with condescension. “Dr. Lee, don’t waste your time. Children don’t get aortic dissections. This woman is just making things up.” But before Sue could finish, Dr. Lee straightened up, her face grim. She handed my son to a nearby nurse and barked out orders. “Get the OR ready. This child has an aortic dissection,” she said sharply. Then she turned to Sue, her eyes cold. “Who told you children can’t have this condition? Sue Tanner, do you realize you almost cost this boy his life?”

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My wife’s childhood friend killed my parents in a drunk driving accident. When I tried to report him to the police, my wife blindfolded me and dragged me into a dark basement. For three years, I lived without sunlight, enduring endless pain and torment. After every round of punishment, her cold, cutting voice would echo in my ears: “Do you still hate him, Evan?” Until one day, I lay sprawled on the freezing floor, begging into the phone like a broken man. “I don’t hate him anymore! I swear, I don’t hate him!” On the other end of the line, my wife laughed. When she finally came to let me out, I flinched away from her hug. She froze, confused and silent. And when I numbly asked her for a divorce, she snapped—completely and utterly lost her mind. The damp, suffocating basement reeked of mold. I sat slumped in a corner, dragging my mangled leg behind me. The wet walls soaked through my shirt, clinging to my skin. When the heavy door creaked open, the sudden flood of light blinded me, and I instinctively shielded my eyes. I heard footsteps. Panicked, I shrank deeper into the shadows without even thinking. “Mr. Carter, Mrs. Howell sent me to get you.” I glanced up slowly, my vision adjusting. It was one of Jessa Howell’s long-time bodyguards. Lowering my gaze, I muttered, “Alright.” I struggled to my feet, my body weak and unsteady. Dragging my injured leg, I hobbled forward a few steps. The bodyguard’s expression twisted with shock. “Sir, your leg… what happened?” I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my palms. My head hung low as I replied, “A cabinet fell on it. Probably fractured.” The bodyguard’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell Mrs. Howell?” I let out a bitter laugh, ignoring his question. Tell her? And what would that accomplish? Would she have let me go to the hospital? Or called a doctor for me? “I’ll help you walk,” the bodyguard said awkwardly, stepping closer to support me. We hadn’t even made it out of the basement when I saw her—Jessa Howell—stepping out of a car with her childhood friend, Logan Reed. “Jessa, what did I tell you?” Logan said, his voice laced with mockery. “He’s obviously playing the victim to get your sympathy. Look at him—he can’t even walk on his own without someone holding him up. Pathetic.” Jessa’s gaze shifted to me at his words. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes sparkled with smug satisfaction as she strutted toward me. When she got close, she suddenly opened her arms, as if to embrace me. But I recoiled violently, stumbling back with a flinch. My body curled up instinctively, and I muttered through choked breaths, “Don’t hit me… please, don’t hit me… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Jessa froze, her arms still outstretched, her face a mask of disbelief. Slowly, she lowered her hands, her expression darkening as she turned to the bodyguard. “What’s going on here?” she demanded. The bodyguard, clearly shaken by my reaction, opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. “Ma’am, I—” “Jessa!” Logan interrupted loudly, pulling her attention toward him. The bodyguard immediately clamped his mouth shut, swallowing whatever he had been about to say. Logan smirked, his tone dripping with condescension as he sneered at me. “Evan Carter, are you seriously holding a grudge because Jessa locked you up to reflect on your actions? Is this whole act just to make her feel guilty?” He let out a low chuckle. “Come on, drop the act. You already admitted you were wrong. Jessa and I have decided to let it go. We’re not even mad about you falsely accusing me anymore.” He emphasized those last three words—”falsely accusing me”—with a sharp, pointed edge. I froze, my trembling stopping as a hollow emptiness settled over me. Logan laughed again. “See, Jessa? What did I say?” I stayed where I was, crouched on the ground, unwilling to get up. Jessa’s voice turned cold, her words cutting through the air like ice. “Evan Carter,” she said from above me, “three years wasn’t enough for you to learn your lesson?”

“Come on, Jessa, don’t get worked up. We have that meeting with Mr. Collins soon,” Logan said casually, glancing at his watch. Jessa Howell turned to look at me, still crouched on the ground. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her Hermès bag as she snapped at me, her voice dripping with disdain. “Evan Carter, you’re such a pathetic loser! Look at Logan, and then look at yourself!” “For the past three years, it’s been Logan who’s stood by my side, helping me through everything. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve fallen apart by now! And you—just look at the sorry state you’re in! Do you really think you deserve me anymore?” With that, she looped her arm through Logan’s and turned to leave. Logan glanced back at me, a smug smirk on his face. He mouthed the word: “Loser.” I trembled as I watched the two of them walk away together. The bodyguard beside me looked down, startled. “Sir! Your little finger… What happened to it?” I slowly lowered my head, staring at my twisted pinky finger on my right hand. In three years, Jessa hadn’t even noticed it. She hadn’t noticed my limp either. She didn’t even look at me long enough to see the way my body had broken. I forced a bitter smile. “It’s nothing. Just an old break… didn’t heal right.” “…Let me take you to the hospital.” The bodyguard helped me to my feet, my weight leaning heavily on him as my strength gave out. Logan Reed had only come back into Jessa’s life three years ago. I’d always known she had a childhood friend—a boy she grew up with, someone her family and mine used to joke she’d marry one day. When his family hit hard times, they sent him abroad. For all those years, Jessa stayed single. She never showed interest in anyone else. I knew why. She was waiting for him. But I was waiting for her. During that time, my family introduced me to dozens of women, but I turned them all down, one after another. I was so steadfast in my devotion that my parents started to wonder if I might secretly prefer men. Then, one day, Jessa showed up at my door, drenched from the rain. “Evan,” she said, trembling, “I’m done waiting. Do you have someone you want to marry?” “If you don’t… what about me?” I couldn’t contain myself. I wrapped her tightly in my arms, overwhelmed by the love I’d been holding back for so long. She never knew how deeply I loved her. After we got married, I gave her everything I had—my patience, my devotion, my unconditional love. And for a while, it seemed to work. I thought I’d finally won her heart. But everything changed the moment Logan came back. When my parents were killed, I found a witness who confirmed what I already suspected: Logan Reed had been the driver. He was drunk. When he hit my parents, he panicked and tried to flee. But when they were still alive, he ran them over again. And again. Just to make sure they couldn’t survive. But Jessa refused to believe it. She swore up and down that Logan had been with her all night. She even testified for him in court. And when I finally brought my witness forward, the man suddenly changed his story. I became the crazy husband. The jealous fool who was desperate to make Logan pay for “stealing” Jessa’s love. But I’ll never forget that day. When I arrived at the hospital and saw my parents’ mangled, lifeless bodies on those cold slabs, I thought I’d lose my mind. And I’ll never forget what Jessa did next. She tricked me. She told me she wanted to help, wanted me to calm down. And then she locked me in that basement. Her face was cold, unfeeling, as she said, “Evan, you’re too emotional. You need time to reflect.” At the hospital, the doctor frowned as he examined me. “What happened to your hand?” he asked, glancing at the bodyguard. “Are you his family?” The bodyguard hesitated, then nodded stiffly. The doctor sighed and shook his head. “This injury’s been left untreated for too long. Even if we reset the bone, it’ll never fully heal.” “And your leg,” he added, gesturing toward my limp. “What happened there?” I glanced sideways at the bodyguard. We both knew the answer, but I couldn’t say it. Jessa had made it clear: if I ever told anyone about the basement, she’d make sure I never found out where my parents were buried.

The bodyguard dropped me off at the villa and left without a word. Before opening the door, I clearly saw him input the passcode. It wasn’t the same as it used to be. This time, the code was Logan Reed’s birthday. I limped inside, taking in the house that was both familiar and utterly foreign. Everything looked the same as it had three years ago, yet it was completely different. By the door, there were two pairs of slippers—one for a woman, clearly Jessa’s, and the other for a man. Logan’s. In the bedroom, there were two pillows on the bed. The closet was divided—her clothes on the left, his on the right. In the bathroom, two toothbrushes sat neatly in matching cups. The counter was cluttered with men’s toiletries, from shaving cream to cologne. Every detail screamed the obvious: Jessa and Logan were already living together. As I stepped out of the bedroom, a soft thud drew my attention. Turning toward the living room, I saw two figures entwined in the dim moonlight, locked in a kiss. The sound of their intimacy was suffocating. “Click!” I flipped the living room lights on. Jessa turned, her flushed face frozen in shock. She instinctively pushed Logan away. “When did you get back?” she asked, her voice defensive as she rubbed her temple. “I drank too much,” she continued quickly, “and if it weren’t for Logan bringing me home, I don’t know how I would’ve escaped those old drunks at the party.” Her tone shifted, becoming accusatory. “Evan, things like this—you should’ve been the one handling them. If you hadn’t lost your mind back then, I wouldn’t have had to struggle so much all these years.” I stood silently, unmoving, letting her words wash over me. She kept complaining, her voice relentless, until Logan walked out of the kitchen carrying a glass of warm water. “Here, drink this. It’ll soothe your throat,” he said gently, offering it to her. The tenderness in his actions, the way he hovered beside her—it was the kind of care that made him look more like her husband than I ever had. Jessa rolled her eyes at me, sighed heavily, and took the glass from Logan. After finishing the water, she spoke again, her tone flat. “Logan’s been looking for a place to stay. Until he finds one, he’ll be living here.” Her words hung in the air, daring me to respond. But this time, I did. “I know,” I said quietly. “His things are already everywhere in your bedroom.” Jessa’s face hardened, the glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor. “You went into my bedroom?” she asked sharply, her voice low and cold. The sound of her tone, combined with the crash of glass, sent me spiraling. For a moment, I was back in that suffocating, moldy basement. My mind went blank. The only thing I could do was stammer out an apology. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Jessa froze, her expression softening with confusion as her brows furrowed. She stepped closer, her voice quieter now. “Evan, what’s wrong? I was just asking a simple question.” I didn’t respond. Before I could, Logan let out a dramatic sigh, breaking the tension. “Evan, man, this is just too much,” he said, shaking his head in mock pity. “I didn’t expect you’d still hold such a grudge after three years. You’re not seriously pretending to be this broken just to make Jessa feel guilty, are you?” Jessa blinked, as though Logan’s words had suddenly illuminated a truth she hadn’t considered. “Is that it, Evan?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “I’ve told you a hundred times—Logan was with me that night. He was at a business dinner, keeping me company. Why can’t you believe me? Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused him? You almost ruined his life!” Her voice cracked as her frustration grew. “Because of you, Logan lost his job. His company fired him because of your ridiculous accusations. Everywhere he goes, people whisper behind his back, calling him a killer. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” Her eyes burned with anger as she continued. “He almost jumped off a building, Evan! He almost ended his life because of you!”

My silence finally pushed Jessa Howell over the edge. She grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it at me. The glass shattered on impact. Blood began trickling down my forehead. Jessa froze, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at me. “Why… why didn’t you dodge?” Dodge? Could I even dodge? Hadn’t she made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to? If I had tried to avoid it, she’d have threatened to desecrate my parents’ remains—to feed their bones to the dogs. Jessa always meant what she said. I still remembered her icy words from years ago: “Evan Carter, if you dare spread lies about Logan, I’ll make sure you regret ever being born.” And in that dark, damp room, she followed through on her threats. When Logan lost a few strands of hair from stress, she sent people to beat me senseless. When Logan couldn’t eat, I wasn’t allowed to eat either. Not only that—she controlled how much water I could drink. When Logan almost jumped off a building, she had my legs and hands broken. Now, as the blood dripped steadily down my face, my vision blurred. I blinked, trying to stay conscious. Jessa rushed toward me. “Logan! Get me the iodine and some bandages!” Logan didn’t move. He stood there, watching with a smirk. “Jessa,” he said slowly, “this is exactly what Evan wants. He stood there and let you hit him so you’d feel guilty. Don’t fall for it.” Jessa hesitated, her hand still reaching for my arm. Then, as if Logan’s words flipped a switch, she let go. Her voice dropped, colder than before. “Evan Carter, are you serious? Do you really think pulling a stunt like this will give you control over me?” She straightened, her tone sharp and commanding. “You’ve been out for a while now, haven’t you? Have you even apologized yet? If you get down on your knees right now and sincerely apologize to Logan for your reckless accusations, I’ll let this go. I’ll forgive you.” Logan chuckled mockingly. “Just an apology, Jessa? That’s all?” Jessa glanced at me, her expression conflicted, before nodding firmly. “Yes. Evan, get on your knees and apologize.” The blood on my forehead dripped onto her hand, the warmth making her flinch. She yanked her arm back instinctively. Logan stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. He handed her a tissue and carefully wiped the blood off her hand. “Evan,” he said with a smirk, “what are you waiting for?” Jessa’s expression darkened, and she looked at me expectantly. I raised my head slowly, my breaths shallow. After a long pause, I took a deep breath and spoke, my voice steady. “I’ll apologize. I’ll even kneel. But first, I want to know—where are my parents buried?” Jessa froze, caught off guard by the question. Logan’s expression flickered, his eyes darting away. The room fell into silence. After what felt like an eternity, Jessa turned to Logan, her brows furrowing. “Logan,” she said cautiously, “I remember you handled that. Where are they buried?” Logan’s shifty gaze told me something was wrong. I took a step forward and grabbed his arm. “Where are they?” I demanded. “Let go of me,” he snapped. I tightened my grip. “Tell me where you buried my parents!” Logan’s face darkened, but then he broke into a twisted smile. “Evan, you seem angrier than ever. What’s your plan? Make Jessa believe you’re sorry, and then turn around and run me over with a car, just like you think I did to your parents?” Jessa’s eyes widened in shock. “Evan Carter, let go!” she shouted. I didn’t move. “I said, let go!” Her voice grew sharper. “Do you want to go back to that basement? Is that what you want?” Back to the basement? No. Anything but that. My hand dropped from Logan’s arm, and I turned to look at Jessa, exhaustion etched across my face. “Jessa,” I said softly, “let’s get a divorce.” The room fell silent. Jessa stared at me, her expression cracking as if she couldn’t process the words. “Divorce?” she repeated, her voice shaky. “Are you joking?” Her tone turned incredulous. “I told you to let go of Logan, and your response is to ask for a divorce? Are you seriously doing this over a little scratch on Logan’s arm? Evan, what the hell are you trying to pull?” I didn’t answer right away. I just looked at her—the woman I had loved so deeply, who had turned my life into a waking nightmare. Every day in that basement had been a living hell. I couldn’t believe she had done all of this for Logan. I couldn’t believe she had ordered people to torment me, just to make him feel better. I spoke again, my voice devoid of emotion. “If you love him so much, I’ll let you have him. Isn’t that what you want?” Jessa’s composure shattered. Her eyes darted away, her guilt written plainly across her face. “Evan, stop talking nonsense. Be reasonable. I never wanted to divorce you. Logan and I—” “But I want to divorce you.” I cut her off. Her face twisted, her anger returning in full force. Logan, on the other hand, laughed mockingly. “Evan, where would you even go? Jessa owns the company. You’re limping, your hand’s messed up—you’re going to end up homeless. Is that what you want?” His words hit me like a blow, but I refused to show it. Jessa, however, looked startled. “What? You’re limping? What happened to your leg? And your hand?” I followed her gaze as she looked down at my injuries. Then I laughed bitterly and raised my hand. “You didn’t already know? Why are you acting so surprised?”

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I “killed” my sister-in-law and made my brother hate me for six years. For those six years, the words I heard from him most often were, “Why don’t you just die?” He humiliated me every chance he got and even adopted a “sister” in front of me—someone he allowed to bully me relentlessly. That girl made me kneel on broken glass for pictures, forced me to drink nine bottles of vodka despite my advanced stomach cancer, and strip naked to dance for her birthday. I didn’t fight back. But on the final day of my life, I gifted my own death to my brother as a birthday present. Brother, this time, will you finally forgive me? “Nancy, are you out of your mind?!” The sound of my best friend Lily’s choked scream echoed through the hospital room. “You have three days left to live, and you’re telling me you’re still going to track down the people who killed your sister-in-law?! Are you insane?” She didn’t stop there—her face was red with fury. “Your brother? That coward? He had no right to blame you for what happened back then! None of this was your fault!” I ignored Lily’s anger and forced myself to sit up despite the stabbing pain in my stomach. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I replied hoarsely, “Don’t blame him. This was my fault from start to finish.” My brother had hated me for six years. Six years of burning resentment because I was the reason my sister-in-law, Charlotte, was dead. Charlotte had been my brother’s first love. They were inseparable—gentle, loving, and never once raising their voices at each other. She was warm, kind, and endlessly patient. Every time she saw me, she would bring me gifts, sit with me, help me with my homework, play games with me, or take me shopping for clothes. Her favorite thing to say to me was, “Our little Nancy is the best gift your brother ever gave me. She’s the best girl in the whole world.” And to me, Charlotte was the best sister-in-law anyone could ask for. But I killed her. It was my brother’s birthday, a cold and rainy night. Charlotte and I had gone out to buy him a LEGO set he’d been wanting for months. We wanted it to be a surprise, so I took her through a shortcut I often used—a dark alley I thought I knew like the back of my hand. The rest of the night is a blur. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, my brother standing over me with rage in his bloodshot eyes. He slapped me across the face—hard—twelve times. His voice was hoarse with grief and fury as he screamed, “Nancy, are you even human?! Why would you do this to her?!” “Charlotte loved you so much—why would you betray her like this?! You knew she was afraid of the dark!” That’s when I learned the truth. There had been twelve drunk men in that alley. When they saw us, they surrounded us like predators closing in on prey. Charlotte had stepped in front of me, shielding me with her body. She begged them to let me go. But those monsters didn’t care. They beat me unconscious and dragged her away. Charlotte endured horrors I can barely imagine. They assaulted her, then stabbed her 33 times. Her thigh bone was snapped in half, and the injuries to her body were so severe the doctors couldn’t even stitch her back together. I remember kneeling in the morgue, staring at her lifeless body, unable to move or think. I had killed her. My brother was never the same after that night. The man who once adored me now drowned himself in alcohol and avoided our home entirely. The words he used to say the most were: “Why aren’t you in hell yet, Nancy? If you died, Charlotte could finally rest in peace.” “Did you know? She didn’t even close her eyes when she died. She couldn’t rest because of you.” “Don’t you hear her crying at night? How do you have the audacity to still be alive?” He was right. If Charlotte hadn’t gone out with me that night, none of this would have happened. If I hadn’t insisted on taking that shortcut, she’d still be alive. The guilt and shame consumed me. I spiraled into depression, but I didn’t dare end my life—not yet. I had to find the men who killed Charlotte. I had to bring them to justice. Only then could I face her. Two weeks ago, I finally got a lead. The private investigator I’d hired told me those twelve men had resurfaced in Bay City after committing other crimes. And two weeks ago, I was also diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. It felt like fate. This was my last chance to make things right—for Charlotte, for my brother, and for myself. I didn’t have much time left, but I didn’t need much. All I needed was to finish this. Then I could let go.

When I returned home, I found all my belongings thrown out onto the front lawn. I looked up to see Renee Grant smirking down at me from the porch. “This room’s mine now,” she said with practiced arrogance. “Take your junk and get lost.” I glanced at Renee. She was the girl my brother, Nathan, had taken in as a “little sister.” When Renee first came to live with us, she was shy and timid. But after seeing how Nathan constantly humiliated me, her attitude toward me shifted. I bent down, picking up my things, ready to move them to the storage room. But as I passed the trash can, something made me stop in my tracks. There, buried among the garbage, was my necklace. I frantically pulled it out, only to find that the pink gemstone in the center had been shattered. A buzzing sound filled my ears. Charlotte, my sister-in-law, had given me so many gifts when she was alive. But after her death, Nathan had taken them all away, saying I didn’t deserve to keep anything that reminded him of her. That necklace was the only thing I’d managed to hold on to. It was the last piece of Charlotte I had left. And now it was broken. I held the ruined necklace up, my anger boiling over as I turned to Renee. “Who gave you permission to touch my stuff?” I demanded, my voice shaking with fury. Renee rolled her eyes. “My brother said everything in this house is mine now. I can throw out whatever I want. What’s it to you?” “This necklace was a birthday gift from Charlotte!” I spat, emphasizing every word. Renee didn’t even flinch. Instead, she sneered, “So what? She’s dead. What’s the point of keeping it?” Before I could respond, she smirked and added, “And anyway, it’s only a matter of time before I’m more than just Nathan’s ‘sister.’ I’ll be the next Charlotte. Go ahead, call me—” She didn’t get to finish. I slapped her so hard she stumbled back, clutching her cheek. “Nancy!” Renee shrieked. “How dare you hit me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Nathan?!” Rage surged through me. How dare she insult Charlotte like that? But before I could raise my hand again, I was shoved back with such force that I slammed into the windowsill, knocking over a large vase. The vase shattered on impact, shards of glass cutting into my face and arms. I looked up, dazed, to see Nathan standing there, his face dark with fury. “Nancy,” he said coldly, “have you completely lost your mind? Now you’re bullying your family too?” I opened my mouth, my voice trembling. “Nathan, she was the one who—” “Brother, please don’t blame her!” Renee interrupted, tears streaming down her face as she played the victim. “I shouldn’t have assumed I could stay in Charlotte’s room. If Nancy doesn’t want me here, I’ll just leave.” She turned, pretending to walk away, but Nathan grabbed her arm and stopped her. “You’re my sister,” he said firmly. “No one has the right to make you leave.” A sharp pain shot through my chest. Before I could say anything, Nathan turned his icy glare on me. “Some people clearly don’t know how to behave,” he said. “If that’s the case, you can kneel here all night. Don’t get up until Renee feels better.” Renee’s tears disappeared in an instant. She smirked, triumphant, and said sweetly, “Well, if that’s what you say, Nathan, I guess I’ll listen.” The pain in my stomach grew sharper, but I said nothing. I knew there was no point in arguing. I lowered myself onto the glass-covered floor, feeling the shards dig into my knees. Blood began to seep through my jeans, but I kept my head down. Nathan snorted and walked upstairs without another word. Renee lingered for a moment, pulling out her phone to take pictures of me kneeling on the broken glass. After snapping a few shots, she stuck out her tongue and skipped up the stairs. The house soon fell silent. The cold seeped into my bones, and the stabbing pain in my stomach became unbearable. I reached for my painkillers but collapsed before I could inject myself. I was jolted awake by a splash of icy water. I opened my eyes to see Nathan standing over me, his expression full of disgust. “Cut the act,” he said sharply. “You didn’t look so pitiful when you killed Charlotte or bullied Renee.” He sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Today’s Renee’s birthday. I sent you the party details. Your job is to make sure she has a good time.” Before leaving, he added with a bitter laugh, “Don’t think acting all guilty will make me forgive you. You owe Charlotte too much, and you haven’t even started to pay it back.” As he walked away, I smiled bitterly and whispered to myself, “Soon, Nathan. Very soon, I’ll pay it all back.” There was only one day left.

I injected the last two doses of painkillers into my arm, each one barely dulling the searing ache in my stomach. After tidying myself up as best I could, I limped to the curb and hailed a cab. By the time I arrived at the bar, Renee’s birthday party was already in full swing. The room was packed with her friends—loud, laughing, and buzzing with energy. But what caught me off guard was seeing Nathan there, seated right in the middle of the group. Nathan—my brother. The same man who never once showed up to my birthday parties, claiming he had no interest in “wasting time with kids.” And yet, here he was, happily celebrating Renee’s birthday. The bitterness in my chest spread like poison. Renee spotted me from across the room and immediately put on her fake, saccharine smile. She hurried over, looping her arm through mine as though we were the closest of sisters. “There you are, sis! I’ve been waiting forever for you! My birthday wouldn’t be complete without you!” She dragged me to the center of the room, where everyone’s eyes were on us. “This is my sister,” Renee announced with mock affection. “She’s an amazing dancer. I’ve always been so jealous of her!” Her friends laughed, their faces full of mischief and malice. Something felt off. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, like I was walking straight into a trap. Sure enough, one of the guys in the group spoke up. “Since she’s such a great dancer, why doesn’t she perform for us? You know, as a birthday gift for you, Renee!” “Yeah!” a girl chimed in, her grin wicked. “How about something sexy? Like the kind of dances those girls at the clubs do?” I clenched the fabric of my shirt in my fists and turned to Nathan, silently begging him to intervene. But he didn’t even glance at me. His attention was entirely on Renee, his expression soft and indulgent. “Please, sis,” Renee pouted, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “It’s my birthday. Can’t you do this for me? Just this once?” Her eyes sparkled with malice that only I could see. Before I could respond, another voice chimed in. “Dancing is better with a little liquid courage!” Suddenly, nine bottles of vodka were slammed onto the table in front of me. One of the guys winked at me. “Drink up, pretty lady. We’re all friends here. Don’t be shy—this’ll make it more fun!” I froze, unsure of what to do. Renee’s expression turned solemn. She lowered her eyes, pretending to be hurt. “Maybe we should forget it,” she said softly, turning to Nathan. “I shouldn’t have asked. I forgot that my sister doesn’t really like me.” Nathan finally looked at me, his gaze cold and indifferent. “Nancy,” he said in a low, commanding voice, “did you forget what I told you to do?” The air seemed to leave my lungs. I swallowed hard, tightened my fists, and picked up the first bottle. The vodka burned like fire as it traveled down my throat, the sensation spreading through my chest and into my stomach. The painkillers I’d taken earlier seemed completely useless now, the alcohol amplifying the stabbing pain in my gut. But I didn’t stop. As Renee’s friends cheered and laughed, I drank bottle after bottle until all nine were empty. By the time I finished, my vision was blurry, and my legs felt like jelly. “Take it off! Take it off!” someone shouted, and the chant quickly spread through the group. Though I was drunk, the humiliation was sharp and clear. But Nathan didn’t say a word. He just sat there, watching as if none of this had anything to do with him. My chest ached, but not from the pain—it was something deeper, something hollow and cold. I staggered to my feet and began removing my clothes, piece by piece. Renee and her friends erupted in laughter and cheers as I stripped down to my underwear. One of the guys pulled out his phone and started recording, his face twisted in a cruel grin. Then, suddenly, the sound of a bottle shattering on the floor silenced the room. I blinked through my haze and saw Nathan standing, his expression one of pure disgust. “You’re pathetic,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’ve ruined Renee’s birthday. Get out.” The words stung, but at the same time, I felt a strange sense of relief. I grabbed my clothes and stumbled out of the room, the vodka and pain in my stomach making every step heavier than the last. I wanted to stop somewhere—anywhere—to buy more painkillers, but my body gave out before I could. Everything went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Nathan was sitting in the chair beside me, his arms crossed and his face a mask of irritation. “Get up,” he said coldly. “You’re fine. Stop wasting my money lying here.” His tone was sharp, full of disdain. “You were drunk, not dying. Stop making it look like the end of the world—it’s pathetic.” My lips parted to speak, but the words caught in my throat. He didn’t even bother to get me checked out. To him, I was just an inconvenience. “Brother,” I said softly, my voice trembling with desperation. “What can I do to make you forgive me?” Nathan laughed bitterly, his eyes filled with cruelty. “Nancy,” he said, “how many times do I have to tell you? If you want my forgiveness, then just die.” With that, he stood and walked out of the room. I stared at his retreating back, my hands trembling as I whispered, “I’ll grant your wish, brother. Soon.” There was only one day left.

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After my fiancé died in a car accident, I locked myself away for two full years. Every day, I stared at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face, my hair turning gray overnight. Until that day, when I climbed the mountain, forehead bloodied from kneeling and bowing, praying to a higher power. When I opened my eyes again, I had somehow returned to the night two weeks before the accident. I saw Ethan, not far away, laughing and clinking glasses with his friends. Hot tears ran down my cheeks, reminding me this was real. Then, the next second, his mocking words hit me like a slap: “I was only pretending to love her to get her in bed. She’s easy to handle—obedient, doesn’t make a fuss. Why not marry her? And as for other women… she’ll never find out.” 0I froze on the spot, my chest heaving violently. Everything was changing too fast—maybe I misheard? Instinctively, I took a few steps closer to Ethan, trying to confirm. “Rachel’s got no one left in her life. She can’t survive without me. I just have to do the bare minimum, and she’s grateful for days.” “She’s so starved for love, man. I bet if I dumped her, she’d be on her knees begging me to take her back. Don’t you think?” “Exactly. With her family background, me marrying her is already a favor. She should feel lucky.” Snowflakes swirled in the air, falling without purpose. I stood there, helpless, shocked, unable to believe what I was hearing. My hands trembled uncontrollably. The man I had mourned day and night, whose love I had clung to, Every word he spoke now cut into me like shards of ice. I stared at his familiar yet unfamiliar silhouette, my throat tight, unable to make a sound. Ethan, the man who had appeared in my dreams countless times, was right in front of me—yet somehow, he felt farther away than ever. My phone buzzed with a notification. It was a text from Ethan: “Baby, I’m heading home soon. Craving anything? ❤️” That emoji, the one he always sent, now felt like a cruel joke. At this time in the past, I’d have been at home, eagerly waiting for him. Not standing here, hearing the truth spill from his lips. Reality is often a blade wrapped in flowers, while lies are dressed up to look like love. I don’t even remember how I got back home. I collapsed onto the couch, my mind a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling with no resolution. After a while, the door creaked open, and Ethan walked in, carrying takeout in his arms. I looked up at him, unsure what expression to put on, silently watching as he approached. 0

Ethan set the food down, reached out to touch my face, and his expression shifted. He took my hand, blowing warm air onto my cold fingers, his eyes full of concern. “You’ve been cooped up all day again. Your hands are freezing. Did you not drink the ginger tea I made for you at lunch?” I could feel his warm breath on my skin, the strength of his hands. This wasn’t a dream. “Are you… really Ethan?” I asked. He flicked my forehead playfully and chuckled. “We were just in bed together this morning. What, half a day apart, and you don’t recognize me anymore?” I didn’t respond. My eyes studied his face, his features, every line and curve. I searched for something—anything—that set him apart from the Ethan I had loved. But everything was the same, down to the small mole near his temple. Next Friday… would he meet the same fate? After a long silence, I murmured, “I can’t dance anymore.” My voice was soft, almost as if I wasn’t sure who I was saying it to—him or myself. From the moment I woke up in this timeline, I had felt the weight in my legs, the heaviness with every step. Scars ran down my thighs, long and jagged, a price I’d paid for this second chance. Dancing was how Ethan and I had met. He’d fallen in love with me while watching my performance. Every time I saw him in the audience, I thought no one in the world could be happier than me. But now… I couldn’t even stand on tiptoes. Thinking about it, tears welled up in my eyes. I glanced at Ethan, hoping he might hold me, reassure me, help me find my footing again. He wiped my tears with his thumb, his face tightening as if he were worried. Then, he said gently: “If you can’t dance, don’t. Honestly, I never really liked watching you dance anyway. I don’t get the appeal. It’s boring. I’d rather we just spend time together, talking in bed. That’s more meaningful.” “And besides, I love you for who you are. No matter what, I’ll still love you.” Those words landed like nails being hammered into my skull. I couldn’t move. Ethan said he didn’t like watching me dance. A memory from my previous life flashed in my mind—Ethan watching me perform. This time, I finally noticed what I hadn’t before: the impatience in his eyes, the boredom. There had never been love. Only disdain. Only pretense. A phone call interrupted the silence. Ethan said there was an issue with a project at work and that he had to leave. He kissed my forehead before rushing out the door. Maybe he saw how broken I was. Maybe he didn’t care. My gaze drifted to the takeout he’d brought home. It was shrimp. I’m allergic to shrimp. I stared at the box for hours, unable to close my eyes. At 3 a.m., my phone buzzed with another text from Ethan: “Baby, I really love you. Let’s always be together.” 0

A long time ago, on this same night, Ethan brought home shrimp too. Just like tonight, he left again within an hour. Back then, I was always quick to make excuses for him. Maybe he forgot I was allergic. Maybe work was just too demanding. He didn’t have a choice, right? Even the late-night “I love you” text he sent me back then—it’s the same one I got tonight. Back then, I thought it was evidence of his love. Now, I realize it was probably guilt. Guilt for cheating on me, trying to absolve himself after crawling into someone else’s bed. Ethan’s so-called love was always full of cracks. If you looked closely, you’d see the tiny needles hidden in the lies—needles that slowly, relentlessly tore me apart. Suddenly, a thought struck me. I grabbed my phone and opened the location-sharing app Ethan had insisted we use. The moment I saw where he was, my fingers clenched the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The frost-covered grass glistened in the early morning fog. The weak winter sunlight barely kissed the tops of the buildings. I took a cab to the place I had avoided ever since Ethan’s death in my previous life—the house we’d bought together for our future. Our dream home. I tried the door code a few times before realizing the lock had been changed. The house we chose together, the house meant to be ours—yet somehow, it had turned me into an outsider. Time crawled forward like molasses as I pressed the doorbell. “Coming! What, you couldn’t stay away for even an hour? I know you miss me, but…” A soft, feminine voice carried from inside. I should’ve screamed. I should’ve cursed her out. But instead, I just lowered my head and smiled bitterly. The door opened, and there she was—a girl in her early twenties, wearing a set of wrinkled pajamas. She froze when she saw me, her wide eyes filled with shock. Ignoring her, I stepped past and walked into the house. Nothing had changed. Every detail of the house—the placement of the bed, the design of the dishes—was chosen by me and Ethan, back when we were curled up in each other’s arms, dreaming about our future. We’d promised to move in after the wedding. Our wedding photo still hung in the bedroom. And across from it, on the unmade bed, lay Ethan’s shirt from last night. Scattered on the floor were a few discarded condom wrappers. It felt like something had grabbed my heart and was dragging it downward, squeezing it until I couldn’t breathe. So this is where you’ve been every night, Ethan. 0

“When did it start between you two?” I turned and calmly looked at the girl standing by the door. She flinched, her body stiff like a cornered rabbit. She didn’t answer, but the marks on her neck told me everything I needed to know. The truth was out in the open now, and my voice came out dry, cracking slightly: “February 13th. My 26th birthday. June 8th—the night Ethan proposed to me. And New Year’s Eve. He spent all those nights here with you, didn’t he?” “Or was it even earlier than that?” I walked over to the closet and opened it. Inside, Ethan’s clothes hung neatly alongside hers. My dresses, however, were shoved into the far corner, crumpled into a forgotten heap. My hand clenched the edge of the closet door, my knuckles turning pale. “You have two choices: pack your things and leave quietly, or I can call security to throw you out.” Her fists tightened, and she seemed to gather her courage, as if someone had whispered reassurances in her ear. “Ethan said I could stay here,” she said, her voice trembling but defiant. I laughed lightly and grabbed a handful of her clothes, throwing them at her. “Then call him. Let’s ask if his words still mean anything.” Her lips pressed into a tight line as she glared at me, clutching her clothes to her chest. An old memory surfaced, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Your name—Stacey, right? It’s you, isn’t it?” “Yes.” Her quiet confirmation hit me like a punch. I closed my eyes, the pieces falling into place. She left, slamming the door behind her, her frustration palpable. And I? I couldn’t stay in that house any longer. The walls felt toxic, suffocating, and I needed to get out. I stumbled down the street, my legs heavy, until I found myself sitting at a lonely bus stop. A butterfly fluttered by, its blue wings stirring faint memories. When I was a child, my father remarried, and my mother took me with her. Wherever I went to school, that’s where home was—just me and my mom. She was small and frail, and no one wanted to give her a chance to work. But she always smiled, her eyes crinkling with joy. She noticed me watching dancers through the studio windows and worked tirelessly to give me a shot at my dream. We didn’t have much, but she made sure I never felt like I was missing anything. But life wasn’t kind to her. Neither were people. She was hit by a car when I was in college, and the driver—a wealthy man—left nothing behind but a check before vanishing. On the seventh day after her death, I danced one last time in the studio. Then I went to the bridge near where she died and walked into the river. As the water pulled me under, I felt the world go quiet. No pain, just peace. And then, strong arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me back to the surface. It was Ethan. He said he’d been following me since the studio. He said he’d fallen for me at first sight but never expected to find me at the river. He told me that no matter how hard life gets, I needed to keep going. He even cried. A blue butterfly landed on his shoulder as the setting sun stretched our wet shadows across the ground. That was the first time we met. I had been so sure back then. I thought Ethan was the last gift my mother left for me. At first, he was perfect. He learned to cook for me, noticed every little change in my mood, kissed my forehead every morning, and asked me every night if I was happy. When did he start to change? Or was he always this way, just better at hiding it in the beginning? Ethan brought warmth into my life, only to extinguish it entirely. When happiness begins, the countdown to heartbreak starts too. I looked up and saw Ethan’s car pull up in front of me. The bus stop was bustling with people, but our eyes met through the car window. For the first time, I realized his gaze had changed long ago. My love for him had been a filter, making him seem extraordinary. Without it, I could finally see him for what he was—ordinary. Just painfully ordinary. 0

Ethan was out of breath, his tie wrinkled from what must have been a hurried trip to find me. I could guess that his mistress had already filled him in on what happened this morning. Sitting in the passenger seat, I turned my head to the window, watching raindrops slide down the glass and leave winding trails. Ethan gripped the steering wheel tightly, the veins on his hand faintly visible. Neither of us spoke. The silence between us was thick, the kind that comes before a storm. When a red light forced him to stop, he turned to me. “You said you wanted to see the ocean, right? Let’s go tomorrow, okay?” He hesitated before adding, “That woman… she didn’t mean anything to me. It was just a stupid fling. I won’t see her again. You can think of it as… just a small mistake. I’ve only ever loved you.” I almost laughed. There was a flicker of unease in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Ethan reached for my hand, his voice soft, almost pleading. “This was my mistake. I know that. But I only did what… what any man might do. I’m begging you—give me another chance.” I took a deep breath, my tone cold and detached: “We’ve had location sharing on since the day we got together. I’ve never checked it before—not until today. And yet, you went to her anyway, knowing I could see it. Ethan, was my trust just another excuse for you to cheat?” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his lips trembling slightly, but he couldn’t form a single word. The silence between us didn’t just pause the argument—it froze whatever love might have been left. I pulled my hand away from his and reminded him calmly, “The light’s green.” Back when we were dating, I used to live in constant fear of losing Ethan. I’d get anxious at the smallest things. While eating dinner, or scrolling through my phone, my mind would suddenly conjure the thought: What if one day we break up? That thought would hit me like a punch to the chest, leaving me breathless, the tears flowing uncontrollably. Even then, deep down, I knew Ethan didn’t really love me as much as I loved him. That’s why I was always so scared. That’s why I loved him so desperately, so pathetically. But now, as we approached the end of our story, I didn’t feel the sadness I once imagined. It wasn’t because I was ready to let him go. It was because I was finally ready to let myself go. I wanted to rescue the version of myself that had been locked away in that dark room for two long years. I wanted to pull her out and let her feel the sunlight again. 0When we got back to the apartment, I walked straight to the bedroom. I opened the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and began packing. Just a few clothes, a few important documents. Ethan stood in the doorway, watching my every move, the tension in the air thick enough to chill the room. “I told you I’ll change. What more do you want?” “Don’t forget—we’re engaged. We’re supposed to get our marriage license soon. This isn’t the time for you to throw a tantrum.” “Can you calm down and think for a second? Where would you even go without me? Do you have anywhere to stay? Do you even know what you’re doing?” His voice grew louder, more frantic, but my hands didn’t stop moving. When I zipped up the suitcase, I paused briefly, looked him in the eye, and said quietly, “Next Friday… don’t get in your car.” Before he could respond, my phone rang. The name on the screen belonged to a long-lost friend I hadn’t spoken to in years.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296120”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #重生Reborn #校园School