Five years ago, I got pregnant with Elias Sterling’s child. Using that pregnancy as leverage, I married into the Sterling family and became his wife in name only. For those five years, Elias treated me and our child with nothing but chilling indifference. Three days ago, our son died in a tragic car accident. Meanwhile, Elias was miles away in Aspen with his first love, fulfilling a promise they had made to each other in their youth. On the third day after Leo’s death, Elias Sterling finally showed his face. 1 The funeral home was a revolving door of people coming and going. Each face wore a practiced mask of grief and pity. Only I knew it was all a performance. I stood in the kitchenette, pouring a glass of water. Just as I was about to take a sip, I heard the hushed giggles of two women behind me. “The kid’s been dead for days, and the father is still a no-show?” “Didn’t you hear?” The voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “Elias is up in the mountains near Aspen with Elena Vance. Those high peaks have zero cell service. The Sterling family has been calling him like crazy, but not a single call went through.” “Maybe he’s just not answering on purpose,” the other woman sneered. “Everyone knows she trapped him with that pregnancy. If it weren’t for her, Elias and Elena would have been married years ago.” The noise, the whispers, the judgment—it all became too much. My world tilted, and I collapsed on the floor of the funeral home. When I finally woke up, someone was pressing medicine into my hand. My head felt like it was being split open with an axe. I buried my face in the pillow, trying to hide from reality. The fabric was damp and smelled of salt—the scent of the tears I had cried for days. Leo was gone, and Elias still hadn’t come home. Suddenly, the heavy sound of footsteps cut through the chatter. A voice murmured, “Elias, you’re finally back.” Elias… Elias Sterling? No. It couldn’t be. He was in Aspen with Elena. Why would he come back now? Even if he wanted to, would Elena let him? She had deliberately chosen Leo’s birthday to take Elias on that flight. That night, Leo had sat at the table with his head bowed. The candles on his cake were melting away, the flickering light reflecting the devastating disappointment on his small, round face. He was a child who loved sweets, yet he didn’t take a single bite. He just asked in that tiny, innocent voice, “Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?” He didn’t cry. He didn’t throw a fit. He was far too mature for his age, knowing full well that his father didn’t love him—and certainly didn’t love his mother. In those five years, Leo’s only wish was for his father to spend one birthday with him. He died before that wish could ever come true. A chair scraped across the floor next to my bed. Someone sat down. I knew that scent. I knew the rhythm of his breathing. After five years of sharing a life, I could sense his presence through a single look or a shift in the air. Once, I had lived for his touch. Now, I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. “I’m sorry,” Elias said. His voice was flat. I’m sorry. Always the same words. When he was leaving for Aspen with Elena, I had blocked his path. I had grabbed his sleeve, begging him. “Can’t you go tomorrow? Today is Leo’s fifth birthday. He just wants his dad.” I knew I had no right to ask him for anything. I knew he never wanted this marriage. But for Leo, I had to try. Elias had simply brushed my hand away, his face like stone. “I’m sorry, Nora. Elena is waiting for me.” But his son had been waiting too. Only this time, Leo got tired of waiting. He wouldn’t be waiting ever again. “You’re awake?” Elias’s voice held no sorrow, only a sense of clinical urgency. “The guests are gone. You should get up and eat something.” How could he be so calm? It was as if the child who died wasn’t his own. But then again, he never treated Leo like his son. He never treated me like his wife. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s schemes to get me into his bed, I never would have become Mrs. Sterling. Elias hated me. He hated my mother. He once called us “The Farmer and the Snake.” Thinking of Leo, my nose stung again. I pressed my face into the wet pillow, my voice hoarse and broken by sobs. “Did you… did you go see him?” “Yes.” “Good. At least you did that.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “Now, get out.” His voice remained cool, like a breeze. “I didn’t get the calls. The equipment failed in the mountains… really.” Really? Was he emphasizing the truth, or just trying to absolve himself of guilt? It didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t care. “Fine. Just leave.” But Elias didn’t move. He sounded annoyed now. “Nora, the boy was only five. How could you let him go out by himself? I’m his father. I deserve an explanation.” An explanation? I let out a sharp, jagged laugh and sat up. I must have looked horrific. My face was a map of tear stains and pillow creases. My eyes were sunken, my skin deathly pale. I looked like a ghost inhabiting a living body. Elias, meanwhile, was the picture of perfection. Tailored suit, perfectly groomed, his face a mask of icy composure. No sorrow. No tears. He looked like a detective interrogating a suspect. And I, the grieving mother, was the criminal. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, frowning. “I’m laughing at you.” I leaned against the headboard. I felt as fragile as paper, yet my words were blades. “Do you know where Leo was going when he stepped outside?” Elias stared at me, waiting. “He was going to find you.” “He called you dozens of times. You never picked up.” “He told me, ‘Maybe Daddy is lost and can’t find his way home. I have to go help him.’” Elias hesitated. “And you didn’t stop him?” “I lied to him once. I lied to him twice. But he was so worried about you that he slipped out while I was…” I stopped. Why was I explaining this to him? I took a deep breath. “It was my fault.” The silence in the room turned into a storm. Elias’s eyes turned sharp, scrutinizing me. “It was my fault for being foolish enough to love you,” I said, each word deliberate. “It was my fault for ending up in this marriage and bringing Leo into a world where his father hated him. I failed to protect him from the loneliness you gave him.” Elias’s expression went blank. He was speechless. Suddenly, the door burst open. A hand flew through the air and slapped me across the face before either of us could react. “You couldn’t even keep an eye on a five-year-old! Do you even deserve to be a mother?!” It was Elias’s aunt, Catherine. She was a loud, arrogant woman who had always despised me and Leo. She was the one who once pushed Leo, gave him rotten fruit to eat, and whispered in his ear that his father hated him. Her theatrical grief now was nothing but a show for Elias. I sat there, numb, as she slapped me again. My lip bled. Elias, my husband, watched the whole thing with total indifference. He didn’t move a muscle. Throughout the years, whenever Leo and I needed him, he had never once reached out his hand. My hair was being yanked, the pain sharp. Through the insults, I locked eyes with Elias’s cold gaze. Once, years ago, I had tripped and scraped my knee. He had been so panicked, asking me over and over if it hurt. How times change. Now, he could watch me be beaten and feel absolutely nothing. The string inside me finally snapped. I lunged forward, grabbed Catherine’s arm, and slapped her back with everything I had. She froze, her eyes wide with shock, clutching her red cheek. In this house, I owed no one anything except Elias. And Leo owed no one anything at all. I was done being the victim. 2 The day we went to the cemetery, I was still wearing the marks of that fight. My left cheek was swollen, and there were scratches along my jaw. If Elias hadn’t eventually stepped in to pull us apart, it might have been worse. But when he stepped in, the person he pushed away was me. Sitting in the car, a cold front was sweeping through the city. I didn’t feel the chill. I just stared hollowly out the window. Elias sat beside me, answering a call. It was Elena. On the day of his son’s burial, he still found the time to be patient with another woman. His voice had that low, rhythmic cadence he only used for her. “Yes. I’ll be busy for a few more days.” “…You should go back first.” “Her?” I felt Elias’s gaze drift toward me. He handed me the phone. “Elena wants to talk to you.” In the past, I would have thrown the phone out the window. But after losing Leo, what was the point of a scene? Under Elias’s surprised gaze, I took the phone and pressed it to my ear. It still carried the warmth of his skin. I used to crave that warmth. Now, it just made me sick. Elena’s voice was clear, bright, and utterly fake. “Nora, are you okay?” I said nothing. The man beside me was a suffocating presence. I knew that if I said one harsh word to Elena, he would kick me out of the car. He had done it before. One snowy night, I had called Elena in front of him, telling her to stop destroying a family. Elias had flown into a rage, smashed my phone, and ordered me out into the cold. I had walked for two hours in the blizzard. I was bedridden with a fever for a week after. He never checked on me once. It was Leo who sat by my bed, pressing his tiny, warm hands to my forehead, calling “Mommy” until I woke up. I had stayed alive for Leo. I thought he needed me to survive the Sterlings. But now, he was gone, and the very air was being sucked out of my lungs. “Nora,” Elena whispered, her voice too low for Elias to hear. “You must be devastated. You lost your only leverage.” Leo. My son. My “leverage” for marrying into this family. I looked at the gray sky. “Then I’m giving it back to you.” Elena faltered. “What?” “I’m giving him back to you,” I said. “I’m sorry. He was always yours anyway.” Elias snatched the phone back and ended the call. His face was twisted with sudden violence. “What kind of nonsense are you feeding her now?” What does a mother who lost her child say to her husband’s mistress? There were no warnings left. No curses. Only a clean break. I was letting go. Let the “star-crossed lovers” have their happy ending. I had no strength left to fight for this marriage. Honestly, I didn’t even have the strength left to live. Under a light, drizzling rain, we buried Leo. The photo on the headstone was from when he was three. We had planned to take a family portrait that day. Leo and I had arrived early, waiting from dawn until dusk. All around us were happy families, laughing and posing for the camera. In the middle of that joy, Leo and I were a tragic joke. I could handle the coldness, but Leo… The rain washed over the cold marble. The boy in the photo wasn’t smiling. He had been trying so hard to hide his disappointment that day because he didn’t want me to be sad. Someone held an umbrella over me. I bowed my head, praying to Leo’s soul. I prayed that in his next life, he would have parents who loved him, not a life of cold shoulders and empty hallways. A shadow moved across the grass. It was Elias. I opened my heavy eyes. He was wearing a long black overcoat. He bent down and placed something at the base of the headstone. It was a race car Lego set. My heart turned to ice. “What is that?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. Elias looked back at the grave. “A birthday gift for Leo. He asked me for it a while ago. I didn’t have time before…” “He asked you for it?” “We had a deal.” Looking at the utter desolation on my face, Elias reached out and grabbed my wrist. “What’s wrong?” My legs gave out. A sharp, searing pain twisted in my gut. I collapsed to my knees in front of Leo’s grave. My son… on the last birthday of his life, I had given him a fake gift. I told him it was from his father. He had smiled, even though he knew I was lying. He knew his father didn’t love him. He knew Elias hadn’t even remembered his birthday. And now, the gift was here. But it was too late. It was so, so much too late. 3 The atmosphere at the Sterling estate was heavy. Elias’s father, Thomas Sterling, was waiting for us. He gripped his mahogany cane, his brow furrowed. “Nora, go upstairs,” he said gently. I knew what was coming. Thomas was going to take his anger out on Elias. Thomas was the only person in this family who liked me. He was the one who had insisted I marry Elias, all because my father had saved his life years ago. When my father died, leaving us with nothing, the Sterlings took us in. They gave my mother a job as a housekeeper and sent me to the best schools alongside Elias. Elias had been told to treat me like a sister. He did, at first. Until I was foolish enough to fall in love with him. Thomas had found out that Elias missed the funeral. He had sent the others away so he could deliver “family discipline.” The housekeeper ran to me, her voice shrill and desperate. “Nora, please! Go talk to the Master! He’ll listen to you! Elias is getting beaten!” Why should I go? I used to love Elias with everything I had. If he were hurt, I would have been in more pain than him. But that Nora died with Leo. All that was left was guilt and a hollow chest. I took off my jewelry. I stripped off the expensive clothes. I packed a single suitcase with nothing but Leo’s things. Nothing in this room belonged to me. I placed my earrings on the vanity. After making sure I wasn’t taking anything that wasn’t mine, I walked downstairs. Elias was already on his knees, his hands braced on the floor, teeth grit in pain. He looked up, his bloodshot eyes meeting mine, but I didn’t spare him a second glance. Thomas dropped the cane and walked toward me. He was the man I respected most. He had provided for me and my mother, given us a home, and supported me even when the rest of the family sneered. “…Thomas.” I called him by his name, not “Dad.” I remembered the day I married into the family. Thomas had taken my hand and placed it on Elias’s. “Nora is a good girl,” he had told his son. “Treat her right.” It was just like the day my mother and I first arrived at the Sterling mansion. “Nora is your sister now,” Thomas had said to a young Elias. “Take care of her.” And back then, Elias had smiled at me. He had taken me to the cafeteria, waited for me after school, and made me watch him play basketball. There were hundreds of girls screaming for him on the sidelines, but he always insisted I be there. He was the golden boy. I was the shy, plain girl in a ponytail and a hand-me-down uniform. I was too timid to even look him in the eye. Everyone in school knew Elias only hung out with me because his father owed mine a life. He didn’t mind my silence or my awkwardness. He took me everywhere. Until Elena Vance appeared. Suddenly, the girl on the sidelines was Elena. The person eating lunch with him was Elena. I don’t remember exactly how she pushed me out of his life. I just remember the sudden coldness. I remember overhearing a classmate in the restroom: “Nora is so clueless. Elias is dating Elena now, and she’s still following him around like a lost puppy.” A lost puppy. I had backed away after that. I made excuses to stop eating with him. I avoided him at home. But one day, he found me in the cafeteria with another boy. He stood over our table, looking down at me with that aristocratic disdain. “So, you stopped eating with me because you found a boyfriend?” I didn’t understand. I just didn’t want to be the third wheel. But later, through a series of accidents and my mother’s desperation, I broke Elias and Elena apart. It was time to give Elena her place back. Elias stood up from the floor. The blows hadn’t seemed to bother him. He stared at me as I spoke to Thomas. “Thomas, I’ve left everything in the bedroom. I’m leaving today.” “Nora…” Thomas tried to stop me, just as he had many times over the years. But he knew that without Leo, there was nothing left to keep me in this prison my mother had built for me. Elias looked like an outsider, confused by the conversation. “Leaving? Where are you going?” Thomas snapped, “Shut your damn mouth!” Elias frowned. “Nora is my wife. I have a right to know where she’s going.” So now he remembered I was his wife? Too bad I was never acknowledged until I decided to leave. Thomas was clutching his chest, his face pale. I hurried to support him. “Thomas, please, don’t get worked up.” “Nora… this is my fault,” Thomas wheezed. “I didn’t raise him right. I let you and Leo suffer. If your mother knew…” “It’s okay, Thomas. Don’t worry about it anymore.” I walked past Elias. He grabbed my wrist. “Tell me the truth. Where are you going? Why are you doing this?” “The heart dies before the body, Elias,” I said. “You wouldn’t understand.” I shook off his hand and walked out. Three days after leaving the Sterling house, I collapsed in my small rental. It wasn’t a surprise. Stomach cancer. I had been diagnosed two months ago. Back then, Leo was still alive, and I was fighting to stay for him. I had even tried to tell Elias the day I got the diagnosis. All I got was a cold glare. He hated me so much that I had stopped trying to reach him. I had planned to get treated and then take Leo away. But now, I was going to find Leo instead. The irony of life is that at the very end, the person I saw when I opened my eyes was Arthur Miller. Arthur had been in my class in high school. He was a poor kid with brilliant grades, always buried in his books. He was the opposite of the wealthy, arrogant Elias. Back then, Elias had called him a “pretentious loser” and told me to stay away from him. I had defended Arthur, and Elias had accused me of taking sides against him. I knew Arthur wanted to be a doctor. I knew he would succeed. But I never expected to be his first patient after his residency abroad. He looked imposing in his white coat. It made me feel even more pathetic. He looked at me with that same look of disapproval he had in high school. “Nora, you’re failing so badly, how can you sleep so soundly?” Back then, I would have teased him. “Elias is taking me to study abroad. He said I don’t need to work that hard.” Whenever I said that, Arthur’s expression would turn complex. Now, I finally understood what he was thinking. Relying on a man who doesn’t love you is a one-way ticket to a tragedy. I was the living proof. Still, Dr. Miller had saved my life. I lifted my hand, heavy with IV tubes, and offered a weak smile. “Hi.” Arthur didn’t seem interested in chatting. He sent a nurse to look after me instead. I was brought in by a neighbor. The bills weren’t paid. When the nurse asked for a family contact, I just smiled. “No parents. No family.” The nurse gave me a look of pure pity. “Dr. Miller wants to take you for some scans and a full workup.” I struggled into my old coat. When I left the Sterlings, I took nothing. I was afraid Elias would sue me to get it back. I never wanted to see him again. The coat was years old. It didn’t keep out the cold, and the sleeves were pilling. I looked a mess. I stood up shakily. “No need. I’m just tired. I’m fine.” In the Sterling house, no one respected me except Thomas. I was the parasite who crawled into Elias’s bed to become a trophy wife. I had spent years hardening my heart and my body. The nurse was skeptical. My face was probably the same color as the patients in the hospice wing. Well, I was a terminal cancer patient. It was just a secret. When Leo was alive, I spent my time secretly visiting hospitals, looking for a cure while doubled over in pain, vomiting until there was nothing left. I went to the billing window and paid with what little money I had. I clutched my stomach, stumbling out of the line. My vision was blurred, but I thought I saw Elias. He was wearing the overcoat I had bought him, his arm wrapped around another woman. In that moment, I wished my consciousness would just fade. Then I wouldn’t have to see the scarf around Elena Vance’s neck—the one I had hand-knitted for Elias. When I gave it to him, I had asked where it was dozens of times. He had always said he lost it. He could have thrown it away. But instead, he used it to humiliate me. I wasn’t even surprised. I felt a strange sense of peace. That was the moment Elias Sterling finally used up the last bit of love and guilt I had for him. Along with Leo’s death, it was all buried. The dream was over. I was a childless divorcee with nothing. He had his new life and his heart’s desire. Standing in the crowded hospital, I remembered all the times I bought him ties, only for Elena to use them as rags. I remembered waiting up on his mother’s death anniversary, only to see Elena post a photo of him with the caption: “You always make my heart ache.” My mother had taught me to knit. It was my first project. I had been so nervous, hoping for a single smile. He had taken it and said, “Don’t waste your time on this again.” He was trying to tell me that my efforts were futile. But I just wanted to be a good wife. Back then, Leo had tugged on my sleeve to comfort me. “Don’t be sad, Mommy. Daddy is just acting tough.” Silly boy. When a man doesn’t love you, he isn’t acting. 5 Two weeks after Leo died. I was surviving on painkillers. The cancer was spreading, and the pain was becoming a physical weight I couldn’t carry. Every time I got sick, I felt like a hollow shell. Even a glass of water was painful to swallow. I took the pills and hugged Leo’s favorite teddy bear. In the haze of the drugs, I wondered if Leo’s death had been this painful. He didn’t have painkillers. He must have been so scared. It was my fault. I didn’t protect him. My Leo… Before I slipped into unconsciousness, I heard a steady knocking at the door. If it weren’t for the pain, I would have thought it was the grim reaper. It was Arthur Miller. He wasn’t the type to be persistent. Back in high school, I’d beg him to explain a math problem and he’d give me the cold shoulder. What changed? “Nora, you’re in bad shape. You need to be in a hospital.” He was a doctor. A good one. He could see the truth written on my face. Arthur hadn’t changed much. He was still tall, still carried that air of intellectual arrogance. Like Elias said, he was “too proud.” And proud people don’t like to be insulted. I didn’t want to offend him before I died. “Dr. Miller, are you out of patients?” I tried to sound as petty as possible. “How much of a commission do you get for these extra tests?” Arthur’s eye twitched. “Nora…” “Here, take some money and leave me alone.” I went inside and threw some cash at him. Arthur left. Good. No one should have to put up with a difficult patient. Dying alone was the best ending for me. I swallowed my pills and pulled the curtains. But as I looked down, I saw two figures. Arthur Miller and Elias Sterling. Why was he here? Shouldn’t he be with Elena? They were arguing, almost coming to blows. I ignored the pain and rushed downstairs, blocking the space between them. “What the hell are you doing here?” I rasped. Elias looked the same as always. Standing in the night wind, his coat fluttering, the moonlight sharp on his features. He looked at Arthur with the same venom he had in high school whenever Arthur helped me with my books. “Nora, don’t you have hands? Why do you need him to help you?” he used to say. He wouldn’t let other men help me, yet he gave all his kindness to Elena. I used to love him. I used to push people away for him. Not anymore. I stepped in front of Arthur and pulled on his sleeve, urging him to go. He locked eyes with Elias, the tension thick enough to burn. He only left because I asked him to. Elias watched him go, his face a storm. “Tired of the good life? You ran here to be with your little pet?” The good life? Being neglected by a husband and loathed by a family? That was Elias’s definition of a “good life.” He hated me for ruining his future with Elena. Well, I was dying now. He should be happy. “I’m done with that life. Give it to Elena. I hope you both live long, happy lives with lots of children.” I said it calmly. No screaming. No breakdown. It was just like the day I left the Sterlings. Like I was deciding what to have for dinner. Elias looked stunned. He probably thought my request for divorce was just a reaction to Leo’s death—a tantrum I’d eventually get over. “Nora, have you really thought this through?” “My leaving was your dream for years, wasn’t it?” Silence. Elias nodded, a mocking smile on his face. “Fine. It’s your choice. Don’t come crawling back when you regret it.” I watched him walk away. Regret? I didn’t even have a future to regret. That night, I saw Elena’s Instagram post: “Dreams do come true.” The photo was of a massive diamond ring on her finger. 6 The cancer was moving fast. I didn’t know how much time I had left, but I found myself welcoming the end. I’d see Leo soon. It had been over two weeks since I’d seen him. I missed him. But it had been days since I thought of Elias. I used to spend my life around him. Packing his bags, managing the house, dealing with the relatives. I was his nurse when he was sick and his maid when he was drunk. And he spent his life with Elena. He wouldn’t even take my calls when he was away. The only times he answered were when Elena picked up the phone. “Elias is sleeping,” she’d purr. “No wonder he hates you. You’re such a nuisance.” “Take care of him,” I’d say. “I don’t need you to tell me that. Do you really think you’re his wife? You’re just a parasite who trapped him.” I had no comeback for that. Life was easier now. I went to the hospital to get more meds. I just wanted to make it to Christmas. Leo loved Christmas. If I could see him then, he’d be so happy. I waddled through the crowds. I must have looked like a walking corpse, wrapped in layers of scarves to hide my skeletal frame. As I left with my prescription, Arthur caught up to me. I looked back, and his eyes were glued to my face. I pulled my scarf tighter. Extreme weight loss is hard to hide. “Nora…” Arthur started to speak, then just sighed. “Where are you going?” “The station.” “I’ll drive you.” Suddenly, my eyes burned. I tried to say no, but Arthur was already walking toward his car. The street was full of people. I wasn’t the only one suffering. “Did Elias say anything after I left?” Arthur asked as we drove. “He used to get so worked up about us.” “No. We’re divorced.” “I was shocked when I heard you two got married. He came to see me before I left for my residency. He threatened me… told me to stay away from you.” Arthur let out a dry laugh. “Elias is a contradiction. He wouldn’t let me love you, but he only called you a sister.” I froze. “When did he say that?” “After Elena showed up.” I remembered. Before Elena, Elias would steal my soda, drink from my cup, and kiss my cheek. He’d laugh and say, “The ice is bad for you. This is mine now.” But that was a lifetime ago. People saw the sparks between us. Elias didn’t deny it. One day, under the golden light of the setting sun, I followed him. “Why aren’t you explaining things?” I asked. “Explain what?” He had been about to say something, his eyes soft, when the driver arrived to take us home. Elias went into his father’s study and stayed there for a long time. After that, he turned cold. He stopped taking me to lunch. He told me to stop bothering him. I tried everything to win him back, but nothing worked. Then Elena appeared. He stopped sharing my drinks. He stopped kissing me. When a friend asked if we were together, he sneered. “Nora is just a sister. If it weren’t for her dad, she wouldn’t even be that.” He told me I was only in the house because of my father. He told me to know my place. My mother told me the same. She told me to be careful, to remember we were just guests. I had buried my love for him. Then, right as those feelings were dying, my mother pushed me into his bed. The rest of my life was spent in a cycle of regret. I looked at Arthur. “There is nothing between me and Elias Sterling.” Elias heard about it within hours. He was waiting by his car in the dark, smoking. The smoke curled around his expensive suit, making him look like a phantom. “Nothing between us? Nora, you bore my son.” He still remembered he had a son. Arthur must have told him. I didn’t care to investigate. I just smiled. “The son is dead. So the connection is dead, too.” Elias choked on his smoke. He dropped the cigarette right before it burned his fingers. “Nora… we can have another child.” No. There was only one Leo. “I’m sure you will,” I said. “You and Elena will have plenty.” I just wanted a quiet corner to spend my last days. “What about you?” Elias asked, his voice dripping with jealousy. “You and Arthur Miller will have children?” I was too tired to argue. I just wanted to be rid of him. If he wanted to believe I was with Arthur, let him. “Believe what you want.” I turned to go, but Elias grabbed my arm. “Did you forget? You’re still my wife.” “Not for long.” The wind was harsh, bringing the taste of copper to my mouth. Elias searched my face for a lie. “Nora, this game is getting old. You can’t survive without me.” A game? No one plays games with their own life. To force me back, Elias stalled the divorce settlement. He froze the accounts. He even took back the apartment I was living in. He left me homeless while he planned his wedding. Nobody gets remarried a month after their son dies. But Elias did. The news of his wedding to Elena was everywhere. I heard about Thomas’s rage and the family gossip. I didn’t care. I wasn’t part of the story anymore. Elena called me while I was trying to choke down my meds. “Nora, we’re getting married at the end of the month.” “Congratulations,” I said, and hung up. I went to the train station. Elias called me. “Nora, I’ll give you one more chance. Come home.” His voice sounded like a dream. Maybe he was finally feeling guilty. But where was that guilt when Leo was alive? “Elias… I’m never coming back. Ever.” I looked at the teddy bear in my hand. “I apologized for my mother. I apologized for everything. I’m sorry I stayed in the way of you and Elena for so long.” I hung up.

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I turned into a ghost and wandered for ten years. An internet streamer found my treasured, half-burnt photo, and started a viral campaign: “Finding Liam.” When I finally saw him again, he was about to get married. I just wanted to disappear… But when I actually disappeared, he ended up dying alone. Right before he died, he was still holding that half-burnt photo. 1 The night I died, a sudden fire broke out at the psychiatric hospital. Because of the hospital’s special design, many patients couldn’t escape and perished in the flames. After I died, I just wandered around the hospital. At first, I had a few companions. But as time went on, they gradually faded away. Leaving me here all alone. I couldn’t wander too far from the hospital, so I spent my days sitting by the window, letting time slip away. I watched the sunset so many times, way more than forty-four times. Ten years passed like this. The hospital slowly fell into ruin. The weeds outside grew taller and taller, thorns wrapped around the crumbling walls, and wild roses bloomed amidst the rubble. The locals said the place was haunted by a female ghost who ate people. They warned their children to stay away, saying the ghost would snatch them if they misbehaved. Absolute nonsense! I have never eaten a person! And I definitely wouldn’t snatch a child! … One day, a girl suddenly appeared, holding her phone and talking to herself: “Hey guys, it’s your girl Chloe! I’m here at the legendary haunted Greenview Psychiatric Hospital. It’s been abandoned for ten years. Rumor has it that a massive fire broke out here, killing twenty-seven people. They say the youngest victim was only eighteen. After the fire, the director was even arrested. Tonight, we’re going to explore this place and see if there are really ghosts here.” I floated over her shoulder and peeked at her phone. I got it! She was live-streaming! Some of the locals did that to make money too. She suddenly shrunk her neck and continued: “Even though it’s been ten years, you can still see how huge the fire was. The walls are all black, the scorch marks are everywhere…” She walked and talked, eventually making her way into my old room. She panned the camera around the pitch-black room, and her eyes landed on a corner of the wall. Chloe crouched down and pulled a blackened tin box from a crack in the wall. I was jumping up and down anxiously. “That’s mine!” “Mine!” “Don’t touch it!” But she couldn’t hear me, and she even opened my tin box. “Ah!” My secret was exposed just like that. She was so mean! She picked up the half-burnt photo inside and showed it to the camera: “Look guys! The girl in this photo is so pretty. She looks really young, I wonder if she was even an adult.” I snorted angrily: “Don’t think I’ll forgive you just because you called me pretty! And yes, I was an adult! Not little at all!” I even had a boyfriend! Comments started rolling across the screen— [Could she be the patient who died at eighteen?] [The spirits of minors who die tragically are super vengeful! Better not touch her stuff!] [What a shame, so young, and she’s gone.] [I heard this hospital had insanely strict security measures back then. Otherwise, when the fire started, so many patients wouldn’t have been trapped inside.] [Wait, look next to the photo. You can see a shoulder wearing a black jacket, looks like a guy.] [Is that the guy she liked?] [A mental patient can like someone?] [Being liked by a psycho… just thinking about it gives me the creeps.] I felt a little sad reading those comments. I wasn’t a psycho, I just… had autism. My dad said that as long as I got treated and got better, I could date. I was capable of liking someone. I wasn’t a psycho. Chloe frowned at her phone and said: “Whoever said that, get out of my stream. Calling someone a psycho… you think you’re so normal? Your whole family is ‘normal’.” I thought, maybe Chloe wasn’t so bad after all. She flipped the photo over and saw the two words written on the back. “Liam.” 2 Liam was my first love. Because I refused to go to school, he became my tutor starting my junior year of high school. He was nineteen that year. My dad said he was brilliant. They went to the same high school. He was the valedictorian of our city and a top student at Columbia University. He skipped three grades and secured a spot in grad school by his junior year of college. “How about we have him be your tutor?” I didn’t say anything. Whether I agreed or not, he was going to be my tutor anyway. Before Liam, my dad had hired a lot of tutors for me. But during lessons, I always preferred doing other things, like drawing or woodcarving, lost in my own world. Those tutors eventually all quit. When Liam first started, I ignored him too. I thought he would curse me out behind my back. Give me all sorts of mean nicknames. Those people thought I was stupid, that I couldn’t speak or complain, so that’s what they did. But he just kept explaining the math problems next to my ear, not caring if I was listening or not. Actually, I understood most of it. After the lesson, he pulled out a few worksheets. “These are worksheets based on what we covered today. Do them when you have time. We’ll go over them tomorrow.” I didn’t do them because I wasn’t interested. I scribbled all over his worksheets. He said: “That frog you drew looks pretty good.” That was clearly a tree frog! How could he call it a regular frog! So annoying. “Did I say something wrong?” I ignored him. He lowered his eyes and started explaining the problems. Liam had really long eyelashes. When he blinked, they fluttered like butterfly wings. Liam was always very calm, as if he didn’t care whether I responded to him or not. “Did you understand this problem? If not, you can tell me, and I’ll explain it again.” He tapped the desk with his fingertips. I ignored him. “Since you understand, let’s move on to the next one.” When I didn’t understand, I would turn my head and look at him, and he would explain it again. I thought it was fun, so I purposely looked at him again after he finished explaining. Even after explaining it five times, Liam remained completely unbothered. So weird, didn’t he ever get mad? A month later, I spoke my first sentence to him. “What’s a little monster?” Why did my classmates call me a little monster? Liam froze for a second, then asked me: “Who said that?” I didn’t tell him. He asked again: “Did someone call you that?” I nodded. Then he drew a picture for me. He asked me: “What is this?” “A snake that ate an elephant.” Liam gave a very faint smile and said: “But many people think it’s a hat.” So silly. He said: “People always reject perspectives that differ from their own. They think you’re different from them, so they have a prejudice against you. Prejudice is the real little monster. You are not.” “But I am indeed different from normal people.” “You are just… very special. Everyone is different, it’s no big deal.” No one had ever told me these things before. He asked me: “Do you want to know the story behind this drawing?” I nodded. “Finish this worksheet, and I’ll tell you.” Fine. Liam brought me a book. I felt I was as special as the Little Prince in the book. Liam was even more special. The Little Prince lived on a planet where he could see the sunset forty-four times a day. “Liam, I want to see the sunset forty-four times in one day too.” “If you get into a college in New York, I’ll take you to see it.” I hesitated. I didn’t like going to school, and I didn’t like people out there. But if Liam was there, maybe the outside world wouldn’t be so bad. 3 After the SATs, Liam took me to New York. In the university auditorium, I watched the sunset forty-four times. It was a visual effect he created using code and a 3D model. He said he wouldn’t be tutoring me anymore. “Why?” “High school is over.” “Liam, I like you.” High school was over, but my feelings wouldn’t end. “You’re still young, you haven’t seen the outside world.” I understood. Liam wouldn’t like a little monster either. “Liam, I’m not stupid. If you don’t like me, you can just say so, but don’t invalidate my feelings.” I rarely spoke so seriously. Just because I didn’t like talking didn’t mean I didn’t have my own thoughts. Liam was stunned. I knew a lot of people liked Liam. I could recognize that look in their eyes. But Liam couldn’t understand my look, and he even invalidated my feelings. He didn’t know that I only let him into my world. If he didn’t want to come in, then fine. I stopped talking to Liam. No matter what he said, I wouldn’t listen. As long as I wanted to, I could block out all outside noise and just live in my own world. When I was younger, I couldn’t understand what other people said, and I couldn’t step out of my own world. I didn’t understand why my mom cried when she looked at me. When she left, I didn’t feel anything special either. Later, after a long period of therapy, I finally learned how to step out of my world. Even though there were still many times I didn’t understand complex emotions. But I knew that tears meant sadness. My mom didn’t want me that much either. After meeting Liam, I finally understood what it meant to like someone. Liking someone meant wanting to share your world with them, wanting to be with them, and being happy even if you were doing nothing. When I told Liam my weird thoughts, he would think about them seriously before responding. Even though sometimes it wasn’t the answer I wanted, I liked his answers. He never brushed me off. After Liam rejected me, when he dropped me off at my door, he asked: “Are you really never going to talk to me again?” Since he didn’t like me anyway, why should he care what I thought. But I still nodded honestly. “Can’t we even be friends?” “But I like you, and you don’t like me. I’ll be sad.” “If you like someone else and are with someone else, I’ll be sad too.” “So, I can’t be friends with you.” He wasn’t my friend; he was the person I liked. I would put Liam in a secret corner of my heart, making my feelings for him my own private matter. If he ever wanted to visit my world again, I would invite him. But Liam remained silent. I didn’t know what he was thinking. Just as I was about to leave, Liam grabbed my wrist. He said: “I don’t want you to be sad.” Liam and I started dating. He was still the same as before; he texted and called me every day, told me stories, and took me out. We rode the Ferris wheel and watched the dolphins. When I was scared, he would hold my hand. He took up more and more space in my heart. I really wanted to be with Liam forever. I also wanted to smell the fresh laundry scent on him, hug him, kiss him… I really, really liked Liam. But my dad found out and forbade us from being together. My dad said he was poor and was only dating me to scam our family’s money. I didn’t know how to explain, I just kept repeating: “No, no, no…” Liam wasn’t that kind of person. “He likes me, and I like him too.” My dad said: “What do you know about liking someone? He’s a normal person, how could he possibly like you! He just thinks you’re easy to fool! I never should have hired him to be your tutor!” “No! No! No!” “Liam didn’t scam me!” “I know what it means to like someone!” “You don’t! You’re just being fooled by him!” “I know!” “I just know!” “Ah!” No one cared about my screams. My dad locked me in my room and wouldn’t let me see Liam. On a rainy day, Liam stood outside our villa, refusing to leave. I screamed so loudly in my room that my throat hurt, but my dad wouldn’t open the door. “Wait for Liam.” Just wait a little longer, give him some time, Liam would become very successful in the future. He wasn’t after our family’s money. He truly liked me. I retreated back into my own world. I stopped talking to my dad, stopped eating, and only wanted to see Liam. My dad said: “As long as you behave and get treated, once you’re better, I’ll let you see him.” “Be together.” Not just see him, I wanted to be with him. “Okay, when you’re better, I’ll let you be together.” I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital, taking medication and undergoing therapy every day. Most of the time, I could only look at the outside world through the window. I kept waiting, waiting until I was normal, then I could be with Liam. Even though I didn’t know what “normal” meant. I could finish all the SAT practice tests and get a very high score, but they wouldn’t ask me those questions. Instead, they asked me very difficult questions. “What do you think it means to like someone?” “Do you understand the concept of love or marriage?” I didn’t speak. That day, a new patient arrived at the hospital. The nurse said she hid her history of mental illness, but relapsed after getting married, and now her husband had committed her. The nurse said she harmed herself and others. Mental illness is hereditary; that poor man must really regret liking her and marrying her. I suddenly felt very scared. It turned out that just liking someone wasn’t enough to be together. Even if you are together, you might regret it. Maybe they were right, I didn’t understand anything. I’ve been dead for ten years, and I still don’t understand. Why was I locked in a psychiatric hospital for treatment just because I liked Liam? Why didn’t anyone believe that I truly liked Liam? 4 Chloe suddenly became very excited. She spoke into her phone: “Why don’t we start an event called ‘Finding Liam’! Let’s uncover the story behind this half photo!” She put the photo back into the tin box and then took the box, leaving the hospital. I was anxious, so I had to follow her. “Give it back to me!” “That’s my photo!” But she couldn’t hear me. Then I left the hospital and followed her all the way back to her house. I realized that it wasn’t the hospital that bound me, but that photo. I could only move around the photo. I watched helplessly as Chloe posted my photo online. she collected news, contacted various people, and asked around about Greenview Psychiatric Hospital. “The entire internet is searching for Liam” became a trending topic. I was a little scared, afraid that Liam would find out I was dead. He would be very sad. If Liam died, I would probably never step out of my world again. But I couldn’t stop Chloe. Because I was already dead. At this time. Chloe scrolled past a news article. Tech mogul Liam was returning to the US next week to attend an AI summit. “Liam!” She sat up abruptly from her bed, her face mask falling off. Then, she muttered to herself: “No way, no way.” I stared at the photo in the news article, afraid to blink. It was Liam. It was thirty-year-old Liam. It was my first love, Liam. So, he had been living abroad all this time? Did he forget about me? Why didn’t he ever visit me at the hospital? Was it because I wasn’t cured? Also, why wasn’t thirty-year-old Liam smiling? Was he unhappy? I really wanted to see him. I looked at Chloe, then at her house. Forget it, that would be too hard for her. Two days later, someone commented online saying they knew me. Chloe was ecstatic when she saw the message, dancing around. She really loved making a fuss over nothing; Liam was never like that. When she calmed down, I nervously looked at the phone with her. “The person in the photo was my high school classmate. She stopped coming to school much in her junior year, and after that, there was no news of her. Her name is Aria. She wasn’t quite normal, but she wouldn’t hurt anyone either. She just didn’t pay attention in class, always turned in blank tests, and acted like she couldn’t hear what anyone said. She never talked to anyone. Thinking back, she probably had autism.” Exactly, it was autism, not a mental illness. “Besides not studying, not talking, and ignoring people, she was pretty normal in other ways.” Chloe immediately contacted the person. “Then do you know Liam? What was his relationship with Aria?” “I don’t know him, Aria ignored everyone. But the name Liam sounds familiar, let me think.” I secretly prayed that he wouldn’t remember. But my prayers were useless. “I remember now! He was our senior in my junior year, the valedictorian of our city that year! If you search the news, you should be able to find his photo.” After Chloe searched, she let out a curse word. “Holy shit! Is this the Liam who is one of the top three internet moguls right now? This can’t be a coincidence!” Of course it’s not. Chloe, please, please, whatever you do, don’t ask Liam about the photo. The day Liam returned to the country, Chloe still managed to contact her journalist friend and went to ambush Liam. During those few days beside Chloe, I discovered something: the six degrees of separation theory didn’t apply to her. It seemed there was no one she didn’t know; two degrees were enough. I floated beside Chloe, super nervous. Although I was afraid Liam would find out I was dead, I finally got to see him secretly. And so, I got my wish to see thirty-year-old Liam. Only there was a woman beside him, holding his arm, walking very closely with him. I was a little angry and a little sad. I had never even held Liam’s arm. Would Liam like her the same way he liked me? Thinking about this, my heart felt like it was raining acid, corroding little by little. But I was also a little happy, because Liam seemed to be doing very well. Chloe rushed straight up and held up the half photo, asking: “Liam! Do you still recognize the person in the photo?” Help me! How could she be so reckless! Her question was very abrupt and inappropriate. But Liam stopped in his tracks. His gaze fell on the photo, and then he looked at Chloe coldly. Not only was Chloe scared. I was also scared into taking a step back. Liam’s look, it was as if he wanted to eat someone. “I don’t know her.” 5 My suspended expectations crashed heavily to the ground. Liam said he didn’t know me. Chloe sat in the car, holding the photo, puzzled: “Did I really get it wrong? But Liam’s reaction just now was very strange, it didn’t seem like he didn’t recognize her.” I didn’t understand how Liam could forget me. Was his past affection fake? I didn’t even mind that he liked someone else, but how could he forget me? Now, even if he knew I was dead, he probably wouldn’t be sad anymore. Suddenly, someone knocked on Chloe’s car window. It was the woman who had been standing with Liam. She said: “Hello, my name is Mia. I can pay you for that photo in your hand. Name your price.” “I’m sorry, it’s not for sale at any price. But if you can tell me whether Liam recognizes the person in this photo, I might just give it to you.” “I can tell you, the person in the photo almost ruined Liam.” “What?” “Owning this photo isn’t a good thing.” Mia looked at the photo and said: “Everything related to this woman is a minefield for Liam. You better be careful.” “Is that so?” Chloe gave the photo to Mia. I heard her mutter behind her back: “Things are getting interesting.” “Whether it’s a minefield or what, I have to step on it to find out.” ? I thought Mia would destroy the photo, but I didn’t expect… She actually took the photo to the hotel and gave it to Liam. “You still haven’t let her go, have you?” Liam took the photo, didn’t even glance at it, and threw it straight into the trash can. He said: “I’ve long forgotten who she is.” “Heh.” I felt Mia’s attitude was a bit strange. I sat at Liam’s feet, looking at the photo in the trash can, unable to describe how terrible I felt. That was the only photo Liam and I had together. I took it with a camera when we went to the amusement park together. I still remember he was holding pink cotton candy in his hand, and it was so sweet. He also said he would always like me. He changed his mind. But I didn’t. When I went back that day, I developed two copies of the photo. One was torn up by my dad. It was also because of the photo that he found out about Liam and me dating. I secretly brought the remaining photo into the psychiatric hospital. During the fire, I hid the photo in a tin box that used to hold candy. There was a mouse hole behind the peeling wallpaper, I put the tin box inside and blocked it with my body. By some miracle, half of the photo survived. After becoming a ghost, I drew Liam’s face in my mind every day. Even though the photo was ruined, I never forgot what he looked like. Every word he said to me, I remembered. It was all in my head. But, Liam forgot.

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Five years ago, my fiancé died in the line of duty. His body was never found. But this year, on August 20th at 8:17 PM, Captain Miller called me personally. He said they found Ethan Wright. He wasn’t dead. He was alive and well. But he was getting married. 1 On the way to that coastal town, Captain Miller and the other officers kept trying to console me. But I refused to give up hope. I had chased him for two years, and we had loved each other deeply for five. He had proposed to me twice. How could he possibly forget me? I rubbed the simple silver band on my finger. He had clearly proposed to me. How could he marry someone else? We took a flight, then a bus. The five-hour bus ride made me violently carsick, but after ten grueling hours, the four of us finally arrived at the small town. “Over there.” Captain Miller pointed to a bed and breakfast called Sunny Days. It was an obscure little inn that had suddenly gone viral because of a set of photos posted by a tourist. In those photos, the owner had accidentally stepped into the frame and gained countless fans. Even though it was just his side profile, it was enough to drive people crazy. Captain Miller glanced at me. “He doesn’t remember anything. You have to be prepared…” I stared intently at that door, my senses completely shutting down. When Captain Miller pushed the door open, a wind chime made of seashells let out a crisp, clear sound. Before us was a massive courtyard. A cobblestone path led straight to the house. There was a huge swing set, a Golden Retriever, and several cats. I stared at the little animals in surprise. Suddenly, a figure emerged from behind a curtain of strung seashells. He was tall, with long legs. The muscles of his arms flexed smoothly under a black t-shirt. The sharp contours of his profile were striking. The moment I laid eyes on him, my body froze uncontrollably. My back went numb, and my head buzzed. It felt like all my bodily functions had shut down simultaneously. I could only use every ounce of strength I had to stare at the man standing in front of me. I had seen people who looked 80% like Ethan Wright before, even down to the exact placement of a beauty mark under their eye. But one look was always enough to know they weren’t him. The man before me looked vastly different from the young man I knew. His features were more mature, sharper, and colder than the Ethan of my youth. I couldn’t stop myself from moving closer, and closer, until I clearly saw the beauty mark under his eye and the red string around his neck… “Ethan… Wright…” I choked back a sob, calling his name softly, terrified I might scare him away. He looked up at me, his eyes incredibly, utterly unfamiliar. “Excuse me?” “Ethan… Wright…” I could barely articulate his name. The man looked at me with cold indifference. “I’m sorry, Miss. You have the wrong person.” I could mistake anything in this world, but I would never, ever mistake Ethan Wright. He was half of my very soul. Captain Miller quickly pulled me back. “Sorry about that. Do you still have vacant rooms?” Ethan crossed his arms and scrutinized us closely. “Yes. How many?” “Two.” “Come on in.” He turned and walked straight into the house, not sparing me another glance. I had naively thought that as long as he saw me, he would definitely remember me. If he just saw me! Everything would change… But the way he looked at me was so unfamiliar and sharp, carrying a hint of annoyance at being disturbed by a stranger. When I heard he was alive, I didn’t cry. When I heard he was getting married, I didn’t cry either. But thinking about the look in his eyes just now, my heart felt like it was being crushed in someone’s fist, aching so badly it felt like it would explode. The tears fell uncontrollably. 2 “IDs.” Captain Miller handed over our IDs. When the man took them, I saw it clearly: the tip of his left pinky finger was missing. As he walked toward the counter, he walked with a slight limp in his right leg. I covered my mouth with my hand. Captain Miller grabbed the room keys and quickly had someone lead me outside. I sat in my room for a long time before I found my voice. “How did he end up like this?” On the way here, I swore to myself that when we met, I would slap him hard across the face. That heartless jerk, how could he forget me and marry another woman?! But the moment I saw him, I suddenly couldn’t bear to do it. I just wanted to hug him… I stayed in the room for a long time. So long that Sarah, one of the officers, dragged me out, afraid I might do something drastic. Everyone was having a barbecue in the backyard. I immediately spotted Ethan grilling skewers. Captain Miller stood next to him, and the two seemed to be having a good conversation. “Chloe, feeling better?” I nodded. “Ethan, let me introduce you. This is Chloe.” I slowly reached out my hand, fighting to keep it from shaking. “Chloe Adams. Nice to meet you.” A broad, warm palm gave my hand a brief, polite shake. “Ethan. Nice to meet you.” It was the greeting of absolute strangers. In that instant, my nose stung. I remembered right after he proposed; he held me so gently, practically melting, and whispered tenderly, “Mrs. Wright, nice to meet you.” We had lost each other after all. Looking at the man in front of me, I had a million questions. But in the end, I only asked one: “It’s beautiful here. Have you been doing well?” He skillfully flipped the skewers on the grill and answered casually, “Pretty well.” That’s good, then. As we spoke, a chicken wing accidentally dropped. He looked toward the door. “Potato, come here.” Potato was the name of the orange tabby we had adopted together. He even picked the name. He had said, “He’s fat and round. If we don’t call him Potato, what else would we call him?” Watching a large Golden Retriever bounding over, my throat tightened. “His name is Potato?” “Yeah, he’s fat and round. What else would I call him?” I turned away and discreetly wiped my tears. Only he could come up with such a tacky name. The skewers were done, and everyone gathered around to eat. Seeing the beer on the table, I grabbed a can and poured it down my throat. The bitter taste spread through my mouth. I looked at the man across from me. The beauty mark I used to tease him about was still by his eye, and the red string still hung around his neck. I just didn’t know if it was the one I gave him. None of this felt real. Sarah handed out the skewers. Just as she placed a mushroom on his plate, he reached out before her. “No, he can’t eat mushrooms.” Suddenly, everyone at the table was staring at me. Just as I was feeling awkward, a figure ran over and jumped onto Ethan’s back, affectionately nuzzling his neck. “Ethan, I missed you so much!” Ethan quickly bent down, putting a hand behind him to support her. “Get down.” It sounded like a scolding, but all I heard was pure adoration. He pulled the person on his back into his arms, smiling as he introduced her. “This is my wife, Lily.” 3 I still held the mushroom skewer. I stared blankly at the girl whose smile was as bright as the sun. My chest trembled. It felt like I had been struck by a heavy hammer, the pain stealing my breath. “Hi everyone, I’m Lily, Ethan’s wife. Welcome to Ocean City.” Captain Miller and the others took turns greeting her. Lily was very talkative. She complimented everyone. She complimented me: “Chloe, you’re so pretty! And so skinny, I’m so jealous! You have such great hair too. Not like me, I’m going bald soon.” As she spoke, she suddenly remembered something and turned to look at the man behind her. “It’s definitely because you have a problem with how you blow-dry my hair. Be careful, or I’ll be a bald bride at our wedding next week.” Ethan ruffled her hair, letting out a helpless chuckle. “Okay.” Looking at her clear eyes, unclouded by a single speck of dust, filled with anticipation for her wedding, she looked exactly like I once did. “A wedding?” Sarah asked. “Yes! Our wedding is next Wednesday. I hope you can all make it!” I cracked open another can of beer. Lily grabbed one too, but it was snatched away by the man before she could even hold it properly. “No drinking.” Lily whined, “Just one sip.” Without caring that we were there, she sneaked a quick kiss on his cheek. “Please, Ethan, just one sip. Just one!” “Drink this.” It was a white mug with rose petals floating inside. When he opened the lid, the scent of rose tea drifted out. Lily frowned. “Rose? Ethan! I’ve told you eight hundred times, I don’t like floral teas. How do you forget every single time?!” “I don’t know… I just make it out of habit.” Hearing his words, I turned my head and finished the last drop of my beer. I hated drinking water. In high school, I spent so much time reciting texts that my throat was always strained. When it got really bad, I couldn’t even speak. To get me to drink more water, Ethan would try everything, constantly rotating between floral teas, fruit teas, and oolong tea. In the winter, he would even boil apple and pear water for me. Every time I drank an extra glass, the usually arrogant young master Ethan acted like he wanted to build a shrine for my pink thermos. Seeing me drink beer, Lily tried to negotiate again. “Look, Chloe has already finished a can. Maybe her hair is so nice because she drinks beer.” “Quiet.” I looked at the beer next to me, offering a bitter smile. “My ex-boyfriend wouldn’t let me drink either. He knew I was a lightweight, so he was super strict about it.” Lily looked at me. “Then aren’t you worried he’ll get mad if you drink like this now?” I glanced behind her and shook my head. “He stopped caring a long time ago.” Realizing she had probably said the wrong thing, Lily looked at me apologetically and stopped fussing. She obediently held Ethan’s mug and drank it all. I only ate that one mushroom skewer, but I drank quite a bit. My head felt a bit dizzy, so I headed back to my room early. As I walked down the steps, I heard Lily’s bright laughter. I looked back and saw Lily clinging to Ethan’s back like a sloth, waving her arms and chattering endlessly. Ethan stumbled slightly under her weight, but he maintained his good temper, looking down to clear the table, as if he were entirely used to it. Ethan Wright was not a man with a good temper. I used to think he only had a good temper for me. I used to think he would only love me in this lifetime… Looking at Lily, whose face overflowed with happiness, I clutched my violently aching heart, feeling so much pain I wanted to die. That was supposed to be me! I was the one who was supposed to be spoiled rotten by Ethan Wright! I fought the urge to tear them apart and forced myself back to my room. I dumped everything out of my bag onto the floor until I found my pills and swallowed them. Only then did the tidal wave of my emotions slowly begin to recede. By the time Sarah came in, I had returned to normal. “I thought you were going to make a huge scene.” I looked out the window. “I planned to. But suddenly, I couldn’t bear to.” “I saw you brought so many things. Were you hoping to help Ethan regain his memory?” That suitcase held ten years of our lives. It had the first note he ever passed me, his first love letter, and every gift he gave me from my 18th to my 28th birthday. It had our first photo together and our first wedding portrait. I shook my head. “Never thought about it.” Sarah looked at me in shock. “Why… why not?” Thinking of the tragic death of Ethan’s parents, I closed my eyes, steadying my emotions. “The pain of losing family… I don’t want him to have to endure it twice.” 4 I woke up very late the next day. By the time I got ready and went outside with my sketchbook, it was past lunchtime. Sarah waved at me. “Chloe, I saved you some food.” Everyone was chatting at the wooden table in the courtyard. When Lily saw me, she practically sprinted into the house and came back out holding an orange envelope. She handed it to me like she was presenting a treasure. “Chloe, we don’t have much family. We’d like to formally invite you to our wedding.” It was a very formal invitation. I took the envelope, lacking the courage to pull out the invitation card inside. Lily kept urging me, “Chloe, you studied art, right? Can you tell us how the design looks?” That thin piece of paper felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. “Here, let me see. Wow, the color is gorgeous,” Sarah quickly interjected. “I know, right?! Ethan picked this orange. I wanted purple, but the orange looks so much better. What’s your favorite color, Chloe?” I put down my sketchbook and pointed to my orange sweater. Before high school, I didn’t have a favorite color. Until one day, I wore an orange jacket, and Ethan told me I looked really good in orange. From then on, orange became my favorite color. “Chloe, you and my Ethan have such similar taste!” My Ethan. Hearing those two words was incredibly jarring. Once upon a time, Ethan’s favorite thing to call me in front of others was “My Chloe.” Seeing my expression, Sarah immediately took the invitation from my hand. “The cartoon inside looks like you. It’s very cute. But wait, is this sunset? The wedding is in the evening?” Lily rubbed her cheeks. “Ethan insisted on it! Because he said…” “Because someone couldn’t wake up in time.” Lily stared at me blankly. “Chloe! How did you know?! That’s exactly what Ethan said! But the main reason is that Ethan really loves the sunset.” Ethan had said that out of the entire day, he loved the evening most, because in the evening, Sleeping Beauty woke up and became his girlfriend. I’m naturally a heavy sleeper. Waking up at 5:30 AM in high school was basically the ultimate form of torture. For those three years, every single morning, I would sit on the back of Ethan’s bike, close my eyes, hug him, and keep sleeping. During our ten-minute breaks between classes, I could manage to squeeze in three separate dreams. Every time I woke up, his school jacket was always draped over my shoulders. I remember one time when I was half-asleep, someone sighed in my ear. “Sigh, you sleep so much. What am I going to do with you on the day I marry you?” Fast forward to my 24th birthday. I woke up to the scratch of his stubble against my face in the morning. I pushed him away to go back to sleep. He pulled me into his arms, gently patted my back, and said in a husky voice, “Chloe, let’s have our wedding in the evening!” I grunted in agreement. He kissed my forehead and let out a contented sigh. “I have to make sure my little sleepyhead gets enough rest. What if you throw a tantrum and refuse to marry me? Who would I complain to then?” And now… it wasn’t that I wouldn’t marry him, but that he wasn’t marrying me. I really had no one to complain to. I stood up and picked up my sketchbook. In that split second, Lily saw the ring on my ring finger. Seeing her gaze, I wiggled my hand. “Because he said the exact same thing.” “Are you married, Chloe?” “Yes. I’ve been married for five years.” Lily looked surprised. “What about your husband? Didn’t he come with you?” I looked at the man walking towards us in the distance and gave a slight shake of my head. 5 As I walked out the main gate of the inn, Lily’s laughter followed me. She was telling Sarah the story of how Ethan proposed. I walked faster, feeling as if a demon were chasing me. I found an empty spot, set up my easel, and just as I picked up my palette, a wave of dizziness hit me. I took my pillbox out of my pocket. After swallowing the medicine, the discomfort slowly faded. I hadn’t been a lucky person since childhood. I had no parents, no friends, and never even won a “free drink” under a bottle cap. I thought Lady Luck hated me. Until that day. I won the stuffed animal I had wanted for ages from a claw machine, got a free bubble tea, and won a $5,000 cash prize from a promotional event at the supermarket. Even the soda I bought for my friend Maya had a “free drink” under the cap. Maya looked at me, grinning. “Lady Luck must be watching over you today.” I couldn’t believe it. How could someone as unlucky as me suddenly be so fortunate? Just as our car was turning a corner, it suddenly lost control and accelerated forward. Seeing the wall getting closer and closer, I screamed in terror. Crash! The car smashed through the wall. Surprisingly, there was almost zero impact. Through the gaps in my fingers, I faintly saw orange lights and the scent of flowers spreading through the air, landing on a man in a suit standing in the center. Ethan stood in a sea of flowers, wearing an impeccably tailored suit. All our friends and family were dressed to the nines. Even Potato was sitting next to him wearing a tiny, handsome tuxedo. I stared in shock at the scene before me until Ethan walked over and opened the door. I still remember the first thing he said to me. He said, “Miss Adams, it’s time.” That was our secret code. Time to eat, time for school to end, time to kiss, time for you to marry me and for me to marry you. He carried me out of the car. Applause erupted around us. Ethan, a man who had faced life-and-death situations for years, was actually so nervous he stumbled over his words. “Chloe, did you have a good day today?” I was so choked up I couldn’t speak; I could only nod vigorously. He smiled, looking impossibly mischievous. “Chloe, there’s something very, very important I need you to help me with. And you’re the only one who can do it.” I looked at him. “What?” “Be my wife.” “Marry me, and I’ll make sure you’re this lucky every single day.” “Plus, it’s a buy-one-get-two deal right now. Maybe even get-three!” It was strange. So many things with Ethan happened so naturally, without any need for buildup or “what-ifs.” It was just like how I knew he would definitely marry me, and he knew I would marry no one else but him. On the way back after he proposed that day, he bought a lottery ticket. He told me, “If we win, the three million is all yours.” “And if we don’t?” I asked him. He looked completely serene. “It means marrying you used up all my luck.” I laughed so hard. I looked at him dead seriously and said, “I’ve always felt like I had terrible luck. Turns out I was saving it all up just to meet you!” “Damn straight! You saved up eighteen years of luck to meet me. I hope you cherish me properly.” I leaned over, kissed him, and said very solemnly, “I will.” When the sun began to set, I stared greedily at the fiery red sky. The words still echoed in my ears, but the person who said them was no longer mine. By the time I packed up my easel and headed back, the lights outside the inn were already on. As I got closer, I saw a figure standing by the door. A fiery red spark floated in the air, and the smell of nicotine drifted over. I frowned at the man standing there. When he heard me approach and turned his head, I actually saw a flash of panic in his eyes. He quickly stubbed out the cigarette and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, looking exactly like he used to every time he got caught smoking. I stood frozen in place, using every ounce of self-control to ignore him. But just as we brushed past each other, I heard him say: “Chloe Adams, I remember you.” 6 With a massive boom, I felt all the blood in my body rush straight to my head. Did my Ethan come back? I turned around stiffly. My shoulders and calves trembled involuntarily, and my heart quivered along with them. His name was right on the tip of my tongue, but it died there when I met his flat, emotionless gaze. Ethan never looked at me with those eyes. When he looked at me, there was always a smile, his eyes filled with a tenderness that wrapped heavily around me. The sudden, extreme swing from joy to despair made my heart ache sharply. I lowered my head, hiding my reddened eyes from him. “Captain Miller told me, but he didn’t mention you.” He analyzed the situation slowly. “I feel like you’re very familiar, but not in a ‘colleague’ way. Every time I see you, I feel this weird sense of guilt, and maybe even a little fear of you. You knew I was allergic to mushrooms, and the red string around your neck is exactly like mine.” The red string was from when we went to a temple together to pray for blessings. I prayed for his safety, and he prayed that I would get everything I wished for. The string had two silver tags with our initials. I forgot. Ethan used to be a recon soldier. Even without his memory, it was in his bones. He was sharp. Captain Miller and the others had been acting uncharacteristically enthusiastic, which he obviously noticed. It only took him a day or two to guess that something was up. And my identity… he probably either couldn’t guess it, or he guessed it but refused to believe it. I slowly lifted my head, meeting his assessing gaze. But he looked down at my ring. “Lily said you’re married, you… me.” Even though his hands were in his pockets, I knew his fists were clenched tight. His mind must have been a chaotic mess. Of course. A man blindly in love, ready to marry the girl of his dreams, suddenly confronted with a woman who might have a complicated past with him—he was definitely in turmoil. My throat was so dry and tight I could barely make a sound. After several attempts, I slowly opened my mouth. “I am indeed married, but… it has nothing to do with you.” I could visibly see him let out a sigh of relief. That second was the most painful second of my life. I never, ever imagined a day would come when Ethan Wright would feel relieved that he had nothing to do with me. I still remember high school. When I caught him sneaking glances at me, the tips of his ears turned red, and he looked so flustered. And when I agreed to be his girlfriend, he was so happy it seemed like he had won the world. I had only ever seen him smile that deeply, that fulfillingly, twice in my life. “Then what about him?” I looked at the man in front of me, and the tears just wouldn’t stay back. He looked at me, panicked, and apologized. “I’m sorry, I…” I bent down and raised a hand, stopping his movements. “Your parents pitied me and raised me like a daughter. I don’t really have a relationship with you. I’m mainly just here to check on you for them. As for the red string.” I gave it a hard yank, and the string fell. “Your parents prayed for your safety, and they just happened to get one for me too.” Ethan looked at me in silence. But I had no strength left to keep lying. Those few sentences should be enough to let him marry in peace. I don’t know how I made it back to my room. I thought I had kept it together pretty well, but the moment I turned around, the tears flowed like a broken dam. Tears ruined my makeup. Staring at my exhausted, sickly reflection in the mirror, I covered my face, crouched in the corner of the bathroom, and cried for a long time. Five years! I dreamed of Ethan coming back to me! But the moment he appeared, I had to push him away! Why was this happening to me?! Why did it have to be me?! Because of the massive emotional swing, my stomach started churning, and the taste of blood rose in my throat. “Chloe, are you okay? Open the door.” I braced myself against the wall and stood up, mechanically flushing the toilet. I quickly touched up my tear-streaked makeup and walked out, trying to act as if everything was normal. “I’m fine, just slipped and fell.” The pity in Sarah’s eyes made my heart ache. “You don’t have to hold it in around me.” I turned my face away. “I’m fine.” Sarah looked at me, hesitating, but ultimately just patted me and told me to get back in bed. The moment I turned around, I saw the item on the table again. An orange invitation. An evening wedding. That was supposed to be mine! In that moment, I felt so incredibly, overwhelmingly bitter. My emotions took over. I rushed out the door, heading straight for the lobby. I was going to tell him that I was his fiancée!

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The night Liam’s company went public, he vanished. I called him all night, but couldn’t reach him. The next morning, news of the hotshot CEO spending the night at a hotel with a mystery woman was plastered everywhere. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I packed my bags and left New York. Two months later, he finally called me. “Aria,” he said, his voice thick, “my head is splitting. I want that hangover tea you make.” Instead, a cold, unfamiliar male voice answered from my end of the line: “Mr. Sullivan, please don’t wake my wife. If you need hangover tea, call your secretary.” 1 At the IPO celebration party, a group of executives’ wives surrounded me, practically dripping with flattery. “Aria, you really played the long game. You locked down a blue-chip stock like Liam Sullivan back in high school!” “Everyone in our circle knows Mr. Sullivan only has eyes for you. You’re about to officially become Mrs. Sullivan!” “But Aria, you should really secure some shares while he’s still madly in love with you. Otherwise, if you end up with nothing, you’ll be the one crying.” The moment those last words left her mouth, the circle went dead silent. No one dared to speak. I tightened my grip on my clutch and looked at the woman who had spoken—Mrs. Hayes. Everyone in our circle knew her story. She and her husband, Robert Hayes, were childhood sweethearts. They got married right after college. Less than six months later, Robert’s affairs were common knowledge. Their “fairytale romance” became a running joke. She cried, she fought. At first, Robert dialed it back a little. But eventually, he got annoyed, got bored, and stopped giving her even a shred of respect in public. Mrs. Hayes’s cynical gaze drifted to a spot across the room. I followed her eyes. Liam stood tall and striking amidst the crowd, a champagne flute in his hand, quietly listening to the woman beside him. I couldn’t hear what she said, but Liam smiled silently, his eyes softening instantly. I knew that woman better than anyone. It was Chloe, his secretary for the past three years. She wore a simple, elegant white evening gown, standing gracefully by Liam’s side. They weren’t doing anything overtly physical, but they looked like a couple deeply in love, enclosed in a bubble no one else could pop. If I wasn’t Liam’s girlfriend, I would have looked at them and thought they were the picture-perfect couple. Chloe caught me staring. Her eyes flashed with contempt, and a mocking smirk played on her lips. She turned her back to me to say something to Liam. Liam looked over her shoulder, his gaze meeting mine. His eyes were completely blank, as if I were just an irrelevant stranger. It was that single look that made me finally realize: Liam didn’t love me anymore. 2 I had planned to break up with Liam after the party. When I walked out of the restroom, the crowd had thinned out, but Liam was nowhere to be found. I called him; no answer. I sent him texts; they stayed on “Delivered.” I remembered the gossip I’d overheard in the restroom stalls just moments before. “Did Liam and Aria break up?” “Not yet, but I bet it’s coming. Didn’t you see? Chloe said it was getting late and she was scared to go home alone, and Liam immediately offered to drive her.” It was 11:30 PM. The streets outside the venue were empty. I gave a self-deprecating laugh and hailed a cab home. The apartment was dark and painfully quiet. He hadn’t come home. A sudden, crushing wave of exhaustion hit me. I stumbled into the living room, collapsed onto the sofa, and fell into a deep sleep. In my hazy, feverish sleep, I dreamed of eighteen-year-old Liam. He was napping on his desk by the window, while I was desperately trying to solve the last question on a brutal AP Calculus practice test. The sunlight was blinding, making it hard to see the numbers. I frowned. Suddenly, the harsh light vanished. After I finished the problem, I rubbed my eyes and looked up. A pair of long, articulate fingers was holding a textbook, shielding my eyes from the sun. I stared blankly as he shook out his numb arm, then waved his hand in front of my face. His eyes were dancing with amusement, his tone teasing: “Aria, are you mesmerized by me?” Then the dream shifted to the day after graduation. He blocked my path, the tips of his ears bright red, trying desperately to look cool. “Aria, I like you. If you become my girlfriend, I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life. I won’t let anyone bully you.” I had asked him, What if you’re the one who bullies me? I still remember how his expression turned deadly serious. “I will never bully you, Aria. If that day ever comes, you just walk away from me. That would be the cruelest punishment you could ever give me.” Through the haze, I heard my phone ringing. I picked it up and heard that familiar voice say my name. “Aria.” Without a second thought, I spoke into the receiver. “Liam, you bullied me. I don’t want you anymore.” Without waiting for a response, I tossed the phone aside and fell back asleep. 3 The next morning, I was woken up by a phone call. The moment I answered, my best friend’s furious voice blasted through the speaker: “Did Liam not come home last night?!” I froze. Instinctively, I reached out to the other side of the bed. Nothing. The cold sheets sent a chill straight to my heart. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice incredibly raspy and exhausted from sleeping too long. My friend paused, then asked carefully, “Have you seen the news?” I knew instantly that something had happened, something involving Liam. I murmured a few reassurances to her, hung up, and opened my news app. Videos and photos of “Hotshot CEO Liam Sullivan Spending the Night with Mystery Woman at Luxury Hotel” were everywhere. In the video, Liam’s black suit jacket was draped over the woman’s shoulders. She was tucked into his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could see Liam bend down, scoop her into his arms, and carry her straight into the hotel lobby. The next clip showed them walking out of the hotel this morning at 8:00 AM, one after the other, both wearing different clothes. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, but I couldn’t feel the pain. The sound of the electronic keypad chimed from the front door. I looked up as Liam walked in. He took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and finally looked at me. “Aria, about last night… something came up at the last minute…” Before he could finish, I tossed my phone onto the coffee table in front of him. It stopped him dead in his tracks. The screen displayed the photo of him carrying Chloe bridal-style. He pinched the bridge of his nose, handed the phone back to me, and gave an exhausted explanation: “She drank too much last night. She couldn’t get home by herself. I’d had a few drinks too, so I couldn’t drive her. I just got her a room at the hotel.” “When I dropped her off in the room, she grabbed my arm and started crying about how hard the last three years have been for us at the company. I listened to her until I fell asleep. Believe it or not, absolutely nothing happened between us.” Not a single word about her arms wrapped around him. Not a single word about him carrying her. I smiled. “I believe you.” Liam looked surprised, raising his eyebrows. The rest of his explanation died in his throat. “I’m glad you believe me. Aria, I’m exhausted. Please don’t act like Robert Hayes’s wife, crying and throwing tantrums.” I stood up, walked over to him, and locked my eyes on the faint lipstick smudge on his shirt collar. My smile was freezing. “Liam, if you don’t want me to act like Mrs. Hayes, then let’s break up.” 4 Liam frowned, his jaw tightening. He stared at me intently, then suddenly let out a sharp laugh. “Aria, the company just went public. There’s going to be a lot of this kind of baseless tabloid gossip from now on. Are you going to threaten me with a breakup every time?” Even though I knew he was no longer the eighteen-year-old Liam, my heart still seized with a dense, suffocating pain. I let out a soft laugh. “Is it a threat? Let’s find out.” “Don’t worry. After we break up, I’ll be the perfect ex. Unless the universe has a sick sense of humor, we probably won’t ever see each other again.” Without waiting for his reaction, I walked away and started packing my bags. I only packed the absolute essentials. I didn’t need anything else. I thought about leaving the rest, but knowing he might twist that into me “playing hard to get” and planning to come back, I bagged everything else up and threw it in the trash chute. Liam had left the apartment again while I was packing. I left a note on the counter: We bought this apartment together. Please calculate my half of the equity and wire the cash to my account. Keep the apartment. After handling everything, I booked a red-eye flight to Chicago. Chicago was my hometown. After graduation, Liam wanted to move to New York to start his company. He asked if I would go with him, and I agreed without hesitation. My only attachment to New York was Liam. Now that we were done, there was no reason to stay. 5 When I got home, my parents saw me standing there with my luggage. They didn’t ask a single question. They just took me to get my favorite deep-dish pizza, which I hadn’t had in ages. Nothing at home had changed. My childhood bedroom looked exactly as I had left it three years ago. It was as if time had reversed, and my mind and body were enveloped in a long-lost warmth. When my older brother, Ethan, heard I was back, he drove back from his office in the suburbs without a word. He got in at 2:00 AM, saw I was already fast asleep, and didn’t wake me. The next day, he mentioned he had a get-together with some old friends that evening. When they heard I was back in town, they all insisted he bring me along. I thought about it. I knew most of his friends, some of them quite well, so I agreed. When they saw me, the teasing started immediately. “Look at our little sister! She grew up! You get prettier every year, Aria.” “Don’t go back to New York this time! Chicago’s great. You’ve got all your big brothers here to protect you, nobody would dare mess with you.” “Exactly! I’ll set you up with a great guy next week, I promise he’ll… Ow! Who kicked me?!” He looked around, but no one answered. They were all trying to hold back laughter. Everyone except Julian. Julian looked past the guy and stared at me. His beautiful eyes were swirling with dark, unreadable emotions. Ethan cleared his throat loudly next to him. Only then did Julian seem to snap back to reality. “Aria,” he said, his voice crisp but carrying a faint, husky edge, “welcome home.” It felt like a feather lightly brushing against my heart, sending a shiver down my spine. I could feel my cheeks burning, completely out of my control. After a few rounds of drinks, I felt a bit bolder. I leaned over to Ethan and whispered, “Why does Julian look like a heartbreaker out of a movie now?” Ethan shot Julian a glare and snorted. “He’s a peacock strutting his feathers. Be careful, don’t let him seduce you.” Slightly tipsy, I looked over at Julian. He was wearing a simple, crisp white button-down. Under the cool, fluorescent lights of the bar, his handsome face looked almost aristocratic in its calm indifference. His long, elegant fingers rested against a white porcelain glass. His gaze, seemingly devoid of emotion, kept drifting over to me, stirring up an inexplicable feeling in my chest. Snapping back to reality, I patted my cheeks, trying to sober up. Towards the end of the night, Ethan’s phone rang. There was an emergency at his precinct, and he had to go help out. Before leaving, he tossed me his car keys and told me to drive myself home. I told him to take the car; I could easily grab an Uber. Just as he was about to argue, Julian suddenly spoke up. “I can drive Aria home.” I looked up at him in surprise. The strange part was, Ethan didn’t immediately agree. Instead, he frowned and stared at Julian. The two men locked eyes in silence for about ten solid seconds. Finally, Ethan looked away, grabbed his keys, and told me to text him when I got home. 6 Julian drove me home. It hadn’t been as obvious when we were with a group, but now that it was just the two of us in the confined space of his car, I felt completely enveloped by his scent. My throat suddenly felt dry. As we approached the entrance to my subdivision, I suddenly blurted out: “Julian, do you like me?” He didn’t say anything. He just looked down at me, his gaze incredibly intense. His dark eyes made absolutely no effort to hide the burning desire in them. My heart started racing. I was frantically trying to think of how to explain away my lack of filter. He had already parked the car. He unbuckled his seatbelt, looked down at me, and said: “Yes. I like you.” The darkness inside and outside the car gave me a surreal feeling of escaping reality. Or maybe it was the scent of cedarwood on him that relaxed me, combined with the alcohol going to my head. By the time I realized what was happening, we were kissing. Our heavy breathing mixed together; I couldn’t tell whose was whose. My head was spinning from the kiss. I let out a breathless “Mhm,” trying to end this blushing, heart-racing moment. Instead, his hand firmly cupped the back of my head. The sound of our breathing and heartbeats grew louder in the dark, eroding my sanity. The last string of logic in my brain snapped. “Julian,” I whispered, “let’s go to your place.” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, breathing hard, trying to calm himself down like an inexperienced kid. After a moment, his voice came out hoarse and dark. “Aria, you still have time to regret this.” My brain short-circuited, and I blurted out: “Whoever regrets it is a dog.” Hearing that, he suddenly laughed. A low, rumbling chuckle erupted from his throat, sending vibrations that made my ears tingle. I pushed him slightly. “Hey, how long are you going to keep laughing?” He lifted his head, looked right at me, and let out two soft “Woofs.” I instantly understood what he meant. In a split second, my face burned bright red. 7 For the next few days, I actively avoided seeing Julian. I remembered what he said when he dropped me off that night: he didn’t want me to regret a moment of impulse. He said he would give me time, but not much, because he had already waited ten years. Even though we didn’t see each other those few days, he was a constant presence. He called every morning and night to check in. If he found a good restaurant, he’d order delivery for me. If they didn’t deliver, he’d hire a courier to bring it. He knew I loved roses, so every day, a different variety arrived at my door. When Ethan found out about him, he was silent for a long time. Then he told me: Julian had liked me since I was in high school. But Ethan was afraid of distracting me from my studies, so he told Julian he had to wait until after I graduated to confess. But right after graduation, I brought Liam to meet them. Julian hadn’t had a single girlfriend in those ten years. Ethan thought he was waiting for me, but whenever he asked, Julian just said he wasn’t intentionally waiting, he just hadn’t met anyone who made his heart skip a beat. Ethan said that when someone harbors a secret crush for that long, once they finally get what they want, the thought of losing it is unbearable. He told me not to hurt him. If I didn’t love him, I needed to make it clear. Ethan didn’t need to tell me. I knew Julian was different from Liam. He spoke less and did more. His love was deep and restrained. If we were going to be together, I wanted him to have all of me—heart and soul. 8 Two days later, I was arranging the blue roses Julian had sent me. I received a call from a friend in New York. “Aria, you’ve been home for a while now. When are you coming back to the city?” I felt a bit suspicious. This guy was one of Liam’s buddies. We had never communicated privately. Still, I answered politely. “I probably won’t be coming back. Is there something you need?” “Oh, no, nothing specific. It’s just that Liam’s been showing up to our hangouts alone lately. We haven’t seen you in a long time, we miss you.” My suspicion grew. Did he hear that Liam and I broke up and decided he wanted to hit on me? With that thought, my tone instantly went ice cold. “Liam and I are broken up. We have no reason to stay in touch. Please don’t contact me again.” In a private club in New York, Liam heard that familiar voice on the other end of the line. It was a stark contrast to the cold, distant tone she had used with him recently. He suddenly remembered that Aria used to be like that before they got together. They had been together so long he had forgotten that, at her core, Aria was decisive and fiercely independent. His friends watched his face carefully. “Liam, just call Aria yourself. She loves you so much, she’d definitely be thrilled to hear from you.” Liam slammed his drink down and growled, “All I did was take Chloe to a hotel because she was drunk, and she runs away from home for weeks! Chloe is my secretary, we’re going to have a lot of opportunities to be alone together in the future. If she throws a tantrum every single time, who could stand it?” “If she wants to break up, fine. Let’s see who breaks first.” He stood up, his face dark, and slammed the door as he left. His friends were left staring at each other. After a long moment, someone sighed. They all saw the helplessness in each other’s eyes. 9 When Julian called, I was drawing my webcomic. I’ve loved drawing since I was a kid. My parents even enrolled me in art classes—watercolors, oils, sketching, I learned it all. But my absolute favorite was drawing comics. After college, I didn’t look for a corporate job. I drew comics full-time. I had been serializing the story of my long-term relationship with Liam, and I even had a contract with a publisher. Since breaking up with Liam, I hadn’t updated it in a long time. My fans were constantly messaging me, asking for new chapters. Every story has to have a beginning and an end. Regardless of the outcome, I owed my fans a proper conclusion. “Aria, let’s go get some deep-dish pizza.” After a long day of working, my eyes lit up at the mention of pizza. But the thought of seeing him alone made me a bit nervous. It was as if he could hear my thoughts. He added, “No relationship talk today. Just dinner.” “That pizza place… it’s the one I took you and your brother to when you were in high school. It’s an absolute classic, you’ll definitely love it.” Hearing him say that, my mouth started watering. “Okay, let’s do pizza.” “I’ll come pick you up.” “Okay.” The moment I saw Julian, my anxiety vanished. He was leaning against the car door, hands in his pockets. In the sunlight, his crisp white shirt looked pristine. The man looked as refreshing and pure as a glass of ice water. The pizza place was packed. He had me sit at a table, brought me a glass of iced tea, and went to stand in line to order. Thanks to his striking looks and athletic build, he caught the attention of many young women who kept glancing his way. A few brave ones even went over to ask for his Instagram. He pointed in my direction. I don’t know what he said to them, but I saw the girls look at me, lower their heads, and scurry away. When he came back, I couldn’t wait to ask him what he’d said. He casually handed me a slice and said, “I told them I have a girlfriend. I said she’s very strict and doesn’t allow me to give my Instagram to other women, otherwise she won’t let me eat.” I watched his effortless movements, listening to his loaded words. My heart felt like a calm lake that had just been hit by a boulder, sending ripples out, one after another.

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I transmigrated into a retro novel set in the late 1970s and 80s. Unfortunately, I didn’t become the beloved, golden-child protagonist, Lily Harper. Instead, I became the daughter of the “wicked stepmother” who was destined to be brutally slapped in the face by karma. In the original story, the stepmother targeted the darling protagonist at every turn. Ultimately, she destroyed herself and dragged her three children down to a miserable end. Everyone said she was pure evil, but in my eyes, she was the best mother one could ask for, and she absolutely didn’t deserve such a tragic fate. Besides, living in an era of rapid change, full of opportunities and challenges, who has the time to play petty games and fight over a man? No, no, no. Making money is obviously the top priority! 01 I woke up inside a historical fiction novel. The bad news: I wasn’t the universally adored protagonist, Lily Harper. I was the daughter of the “wicked stepmother” who was destined for a spectacular downfall. According to the original plot, shortly after the protagonist Lily was born, her mother died in a tragic accident. Because of this, the Harper family treated her like absolute royalty. From her grandmother, Mrs. Harper, to her father, and even her uncles, everyone spoiled her rotten. Lily’s father was in the military, stationed away from home year-round. To ensure his daughter was taken care of, he married the “wicked stepmother,” Martha Jenkins, to be Lily’s new mom. Martha was hardworking, quick on her feet, and ran the household with fiery efficiency. She even gave Mr. Harper twin boys and another daughter. Logically, this blended family should have lived a decent life. However, a wicked stepmother is a wicked stepmother for a reason. If she didn’t stir up trouble, she wouldn’t live up to the title. Martha became jealous that Lily was pampered by the entire family, while her own three children were treated like second-class citizens. Gradually, her resentment grew, and she began making life difficult for the young protagonist at every opportunity. But Lily, with her “golden child” plot armor, managed to turn every bad situation into a stroke of luck. Not only did Martha fail to gain any advantage, but her cruel stepmother antics were constantly exposed. She became infamous in their small town, despised by everyone. By extension, her three children became outcasts too. Years later, Mr. Harper returned from the military. He had risen rapidly through the ranks, becoming a high-ranking officer at a young age. And by his side was a beautiful, elegant woman. Shockingly, it was Lily’s biological mother, Evelyn Sterling, who was supposed to be dead! It turned out that Evelyn was the heiress to a powerful, old-money family on the East Coast. The Sterling family wielded immense political and financial power, and they looked down on a poor soldier like Mr. Harper. Shortly after Evelyn eloped with him, her family tracked her down. Right after giving birth to Lily, Evelyn was forcibly taken back by her family. To make Mr. Harper give up, the Sterlings even faked her accidental death. Over the years, Evelyn had never stopped thinking about her husband and daughter, living in constant depression. As Evelyn’s parents grew older, they softened. Seeing their daughter so heartbroken all these years, they eventually felt remorse. Later, when they heard that Mr. Harper had become a high-ranking officer with a limitless future, they finally agreed to let the two reunite. When they met again, it was like a match to gasoline; they were inseparable. Mr. Harper’s return was specifically to divorce Martha. But as soon as he arrived, the townsfolk bombarded him with stories of how the wicked stepmother Martha had abused Lily. Consumed by rage, Mr. Harper dragged Martha out of the house by her hair. In front of the entire town, he beat her mercilessly. He used the combat skills he learned in the military on the woman who had cared for his aging mother, managed his household, and borne him three children. Martha suffered four broken ribs, two fractured arms, and a permanently disabled right leg. Then, she was thrown out onto the street without a second thought. Her two sons and daughter were kicked out right alongside her. Lily was welcomed back to her wealthy East Coast family with great fanfare. Her golden-child aura continued to work its magic. The moment the Sterling family saw this soft, adorable little girl, they fell completely in love. Lily became the pampered princess of the Sterling dynasty. Mr. Harper, backed by the Sterling family’s resources, skyrocketed through the political and military ranks. Later on, Lily would encounter the heir to a massive financial empire, an A-list movie star, and a tech genius. All of these elite men were inevitably captivated by her innocent and pure nature, showering her with unconditional love and protection. In the end, Lily married the financial heir and had twins—a brilliant, cunning son and a sweet, adorable daughter who inherited her lucky charm… If you had to summarize Lily’s life in a few words, it would be: She had it all. And what about the wicked stepmother, Martha? After being beaten and thrown out, she didn’t receive medical attention in time, leaving her permanently disabled. With the Harper family dropping hints, no one in town dared to help her. To feed her three starving children, she had no choice but to turn to sex work in the slums. One day, while bringing a client home, she was accidentally discovered by her two sons, who had been let out of school early. Seeing someone mistreating their mother, the boys attacked the client. They were only teenagers, frail and malnourished. The client, however, was a massive, drunken brute. During the struggle, the client beat the two boys to death with his bare hands. Witnessing her sons die right in front of her, Martha completely lost her mind. To care for her disabled, mentally unstable mother, Martha’s daughter walked down the same dark path, becoming a sex worker out of desperation. Being so young and lacking any knowledge of safe practices, she soon contracted a severe STD and died in agonizing pain. On a stormy night, Martha, who had been insane for a long time, suddenly had a moment of clarity. The horrific memories of her children’s brutal deaths flooded back. In utter despair, Martha used a piece of coarse rope to hang herself. I still remember the comments section when the author released the chapter of the wicked stepmother’s death. It was a digital celebration. [Good riddance! She got what she deserved.] [That’s what she gets for bullying our precious Lily!] [Ahhh, the author finally killed off that bitch!] [Anyone who bullies our girl deserves this ending.] [That disgusting character is finally gone.] [You guys don’t even know, I wanted to jump into the book and slap her myself.] … Unfortunately, the character I transmigrated into was Martha’s daughter. The girl who was forced down a dark path at a young age. The girl who contracted a disease and died in agony. 02 I was still reeling from the original plot. Just then, a chubby, cherubic little girl toddled toward me. The moment I saw her, the gloom in my chest dissipated. Only one thought remained in my head: [Ahhh, she’s so cute! [She really is the perfect protagonist! [How could the stepmother bear to hurt such an adorable little girl?!] Needless to say, this was the protagonist, Lily Harper. She was holding a piece of candy—a rare treat in this era—and her innocent, pure smile was sweeter than the candy itself. My heart melted. I was just about to reach out and pinch her chubby cheeks. But at that exact moment, Lily tripped over a rock and fell hard onto the dirt. “Waaaah—!” She immediately burst into loud, heartbroken sobs. I scrambled forward to help her up. But my host body was just a child, three years younger than Lily. With these short little arms and legs, I couldn’t run fast even if I wanted to. Right then, Mrs. Harper beat me to it, rushing out of the main house like a gust of wind. “Oh, my sweet girl, don’t cry! Show Grandma where it hurts. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, Grandma will kiss it better.” Watching their tender interaction, I felt a warmth in my heart. In the original book, Mrs. Harper was the one who spoiled Lily the most. In an era that heavily favored boys over girls, she didn’t show favoritism to Martha’s twin sons. Instead, she devoted all her love to her granddaughter, Lily. Their heartwarming family moments had brought me to tears more than once while reading. Seeing such a cozy scene, I couldn’t help but step forward and say: “Grandma, don’t worry. Lily just…” Before I could finish, Mrs. Harper whipped her head around and glared at me viciously. In that instant, her expression went from warm and loving to fierce and terrifying. Before I could even process what was happening, a heavy slap landed on my face. The force was so strong that it knocked me straight to the ground. My vision went black, my ears rang, and I tasted the faint, metallic tang of blood in my mouth. The sudden slap left me completely stunned. The next second, a sharp pain shot through my scalp. Mrs. Harper grabbed me by the hair and yanked me up from the dirt. “You worthless little brat! What good are you?!” The Mrs. Harper I remembered as loving and kind was now a picture of vicious cruelty. “I told you to watch your sister! “And what do you do? You just play around and let her fall! “I’m going to teach you a lesson today, you useless waste of space!” As she yelled, she viciously pinched the flesh on my arms and thighs. My host body was only a five-year-old girl; her tender skin couldn’t withstand such brutal pinching. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes from the pain. I panicked and tried to defend myself: “It wasn’t my fault! “There was a rock on the ground, Lily didn’t see it and tripped.” But my defense only made Mrs. Harper angrier. “You dare talk back to me?!” Her eyes bulged as she shoved me hard back onto the ground. Then, she grabbed a nearby willow switch and lashed it down on me. Mrs. Harper put all her strength into every strike, leaving deep, long, bloody welts on my body. I rolled on the ground in agony, snot and tears smearing my face. I wanted to run, but this five-year-old body was paralyzed by pain after just two strikes. I couldn’t even move my legs. Lily, watching from the sidelines, opened her innocent eyes wide and asked: “Grandma, why are you hitting my sister?” When Mrs. Harper looked at her, her face instantly melted back into a loving smile. “Because your sister is a bad girl, that’s why Grandma is punishing her. “Don’t be scared, Lily. You’re a good girl, Grandma would never hit you.” “Oh.” Lily nodded, seemingly understanding. She toddled over on her short little legs and sat down on a small wooden stool. She pulled a new piece of candy from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. As she ate, she watched me getting beaten, clapping her hands and laughing: “Sister is bad! Grandma hit sister!” Her laugh was like silver bells, as sweet as ever. But this time, I couldn’t find her cute at all. Encouraged by her precious granddaughter, Mrs. Harper hit me even harder. My vision was blurring. I really thought I was going to die right there. Suddenly, a furious roar came from outside the yard: “You old hag! What the hell are you doing?!” 03 I forced my head up and saw a woman charging toward us. She snatched the willow switch from Mrs. Harper’s hand and hurled it away. Then, she quickly gathered me up from the ground into her arms. I saw her eyes instantly turn red, and her voice choked up. The next second, she raised her head, looking like a lioness protecting her cub. “You vicious old witch! “My girl is just a baby, what could she possibly have done for you to beat her like this?!” The Harper children, except for Lily, weren’t given proper names right away. They were just called by nicknames, an old superstition that plain names made kids tougher to raise. The original owner of my body was just called “Girl,” and her twin older brothers were “Big Bear” and “Little Bear.” Seeing Martha’s ferocious demeanor, Mrs. Harper felt a flash of guilt. She knew exactly how fierce this daughter-in-law could be. If she didn’t need someone to do all the heavy lifting around the house, she would have told her son to divorce Martha years ago. Despite her guilt, Mrs. Harper kept a harsh face and said: “I told this useless brat to watch Lily. “Instead, she was just messing around, and Lily fell and scraped her knee.” Martha’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Because of that?! “Lily gets a scrape, and you beat my daughter half to death?! “Are you even human, Martha?! “You pamper your granddaughter, but what gives you the right to treat my daughter like dirt?!” As she spoke, she held me tightly, her voice breaking. “I carried her for nine months too! Why is Lily so high and mighty? “Was my daughter born just to be her servant and beast of burden?! “Girl is only five! Lily is eight! “You make a five-year-old watch an eight-year-old! “You have some nerve saying that out loud, you old hag!” In the original book, the Harper family favored Lily, and the other children were strictly ordered to give way to her at all times. If Lily went out to play, “Girl” had to follow behind and look after her. If Lily wanted to play horsey, Big Bear and Little Bear had to crawl on their hands and knees on the dirt floor all afternoon for her amusement. If Lily was unhappy, no one else was allowed to smile. The original novel didn’t describe this part in detail; it only said that Martha was jealous that Lily was more favored than her own children, leading to her growing disgust and eventual targeting of Lily. At the time, the comments section was full of people cursing Martha. [This woman is psychotic. [It’s just kids playing, does she have to be so dramatic?] [Lol, look at her own kids, they’re probably ugly and dirty. [Anyone would prefer our pale, chubby little Lily over them.] [This is why stepmothers are all trash. [My heart breaks for our baby Lily.] … Back then, I also thought Martha was being petty. It was just asking her kids to be a little more accommodating to Lily. Lily lost her biological mother when she was born; she naturally needed more love. What was the big deal if the other kids let her have her way? But the reality was completely different from what I imagined. This agonizing beating made me seriously doubt the views I had held all along. Was the seemingly kind and loving Mrs. Harper really a good person? Was the seemingly petty and narrow-minded Martha really a bad person? At least in the moment she fiercely protected me, I couldn’t make such an easy judgment. Taking a step back… To make a mother watch her own children act as “servants and beasts of burden” for someone else’s kid. Just because Lily wanted to play horsey, her boys had to crawl in the dirt all afternoon. Just because Lily got a scrape, her daughter was beaten within an inch of her life… Even the most generous, kind, and selfless person would find it hard to love Lily under those circumstances. For a moment, my complex emotions actually overpowered the physical pain. Meanwhile, Mrs. Harper had plopped down on the dirt and started wailing loudly. “Oh, the tragedy! Why did my son have to marry a woman like you?! “Lily lost her real mother the day she was born, I just love her a little more, that’s all. “And for that, I have to be cursed out by you, you wicked stepmother!” She hugged Lily as she cried: “We might as well just go jump in the river and end it all! “Oh, my poor, tragic Lily…” When people argue in the countryside, the winner is usually the one who screams the loudest and cries the hardest. The houses were close together, and Mrs. Harper’s wailing immediately drew a crowd of nosy neighbors. Hearing her tearful complaints, they started chattering: “Martha is going too far. “With an old woman and a young child, how could she be so harsh?” “Like they say, birds of a feather flock together. “There isn’t a single good stepmother in the world.” “Why did the Harper boy ever marry her…” Martha was livid, her face flushed red. She jumped up and yelled: “Martha Harper, you tell me right now, what did I do?! “My daughter was beaten half to death, I said a few words and suddenly I’m the wicked one?! “So I should just let you torture my Girl to death, is that what you call being a good wife?!” However, no matter how much Martha defended herself, Mrs. Harper just sat there wailing. She kept repeating how pitiful Lily was for losing her mother at birth. Lily, though she didn’t fully understand, saw her grandmother crying and started bawling too. Through her tears, she lisped: “Stepmom is bullying Grandma! Stepmom is bad! “Don’t cry, Grandma. Lily will take care of you when I grow up.” Many women with children wiped away tears hearing her words. Martha couldn’t defend herself and became the target of everyone’s anger. Just as the court of public opinion had completely sided with Mrs. Harper… I suddenly started wailing too, my voice even louder and more piercing than theirs. Everyone’s eyes immediately snapped to me. When they saw me covered in bloody welts, they gasped in shock. Crying loudly, I sobbed: “I’m sorry, Grandma, don’t yell at my mom anymore. “It’s all my fault I didn’t take good care of my sister and let her scrape her knee. “You have every right to beat me to death. “But my mom just got back from the fields, she didn’t know anything. “Please don’t yell at her anymore.” As soon as those words left my mouth, everyone was stunned. “Girl, did your grandmother give you all those injuries?!” Auntie Mary, usually the most helpful woman in town, stepped forward and asked. I nodded, sniffling: “Grandma said I was born to serve my sister. “When my sister tripped over a rock, it was all my fault. “So she slapped me, then she pinched me. “Then she hit me with a switch…” I added fuel to the fire, exaggerating how I was abused. Martha’s heart broke listening to me, tears streaming down her face. The neighbors standing around were dumbfounded. “Girl is only five, and she’s supposed to watch her eight-year-old sister?” “Lily falling down has nothing to do with Girl. “How could you beat a perfectly good child like this?” “No wonder Martha argued with her. “If my daughter was treated like this, I’d fight that old bat to the death.” The townsfolk immediately switched sides, turning their condemnation toward Mrs. Harper. Mrs. Harper forced a few more awkward wails, still trying to defend herself: “Lily hasn’t had a mother since she was born, what’s wrong with me loving her a little more?” This time, before Martha could retort, the helpful Auntie Mary beat her to it: “If you love Lily so much, you should take care of her yourself. “Making a five-year-old watch an eight-year-old, what kind of nonsense is that?!” Saying that, she grabbed Martha’s arm: “Come on, let’s get Girl to the clinic in town right now. “We can’t let the child suffer any lasting damage.” Hearing this, Martha lost all interest in arguing. She quickly hoisted me onto her back and hurried toward town. Leaving Mrs. Harper and Lily standing in the yard, being pointed at and gossiped about by the entire town. 04 After getting medicine from the clinic, I lay in bed for over a week before Martha finally let me get up. She specifically ordered Big Bear and Little Bear not to let me do any chores because I was still weak. During that week, I observed this family with my own eyes. The original novel stated: The protagonist, Lily, was a little foodie. But the wicked stepmother was so stingy she wouldn’t even let her have an extra egg. What I saw with my own eyes, however, was: Lily got to eat a boiled egg every single day. While Martha’s own children only got to taste one during holidays. While I was recovering, Martha wanted to build up my strength. She gritted her teeth, dug into her secret savings, and bought a small bag of eggs, boiling one for me every day. Big Bear and Little Bear drooled watching me, but could only stare longingly. And Lily, after finishing her own egg, would look innocent and say: “Grandma, I want more.” Then she would open her big, innocent eyes and look pitifully at the boiled egg in her stepmother’s hand. Martha would roll her eyes in exasperation: “If you want more, ask your grandmother to lay two for you. “Stop staring at the little bit of food Girl gets.” The original novel stated: Lily looked like a delicate, soft little princess. But she was forced to wear tacky, ugly clothes that couldn’t show off her beauty. The reality was: In this era, everything was scarce, especially fabric. The Harper family used their few fabric ration coupons to make pretty floral dresses for Lily. Martha and her three children hadn’t had new clothes in two or three years. The book also claimed Martha was inherently evil, petty, competed with a little girl, and only valued her sons… But what I saw was that while she disliked Lily, her attitude was merely to ignore her. She never actively harmed her, let alone competed with her. As for favoring boys over girls, that was complete nonsense. These past few days, her concern and care for me were absolute. Sometimes, she would look thoughtfully at Lily. Thinking I was envious that Lily was more liked than I was, she would tell me: “If they like her, that’s their business. “My Girl doesn’t need to compare herself to anyone. “In Mom’s eyes, you are the absolute best.” In those moments, I could no longer see her as just a standard “wicked stepmother.” She was my mother. The mother of “Girl.” I could no longer treat myself as a bystander, watching the original plot unfold from the sidelines. I couldn’t just watch the mother who loved me and my two brothers walk toward a dead end. “Mom,” I said, looking straight into her eyes. “Divorce my dad.” 05 Martha was shocked. For a woman in that era, especially a woman in a rural town, the word “divorce” was essentially a myth. “Did someone say something to you?” she asked instinctively. I shook my head and gently tried to persuade her: “Don’t you think this house is exactly the same whether Dad is here or not? “You’re already raising me and my brothers all by yourself. “If you divorce, your life will actually be easier.” It was the truth. At this time, Mr. Harper was just a poor enlisted soldier, sending a fixed six dollars home every month. And every cent of that six dollars went straight to Mrs. Harper to spend on herself and Lily. Martha and her children had never seen a dime of it. The only reason her kids had survived this long was because Martha worked her fingers to the bone. She woke up at four in the morning to feed the chickens and ducks, then cleaned the house and made breakfast for the whole family. After breakfast, she had to work in the Harper family’s private garden for half the day. Around noon, she went to the communal fields to earn work points, often not returning until late at night. Sometimes, when there was less work in the fields, she’d get off early. She would use that time before dark to go to the mountains behind the town to gather firewood, mushrooms, and wild vegetables. Even when she got home, she never rested. She cooked dinner, washed dishes, did laundry, mended clothes… Martha spun like a top every day, never getting a moment’s peace. If she divorced, she wouldn’t have to do chores for a whole family of ingrates. She wouldn’t have to work like a mule in the Harper family’s garden every day. I spent a long time reasoning with her. But Martha just furrowed her brow, hesitating: “I’ve never heard of a woman asking for a divorce. “And if we leave, we won’t have a house or land. “How are we supposed to survive just on the work points from the commune?” Martha’s concerns were purely practical. Her own family heavily favored boys; she was beaten and scolded constantly growing up. At sixteen, she was sold to the widowed Mr. Harper for a thirty-dollar bride price. After getting married, she cut all ties with her family, knowing she couldn’t rely on them for anything. Her fears were justified. Leaving the Harper family meant she and her children would face a grueling period of hardship. To convince her, I lied and said I had a dream, laying out the entire plot of the original book. Hearing that her two sons would be beaten to death and her daughter would die in agony from a disease… Martha broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I seized the moment to deliver the final blow. “Even if the dream isn’t real… “Mom. “Do you really want to watch me and my brothers act as servants for Lily for the rest of our lives?” That sentence cemented her final decision. Martha wiped her tears, her eyes regaining their fierce determination. “We’re doing it! “I’m divorcing him!”

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The daughter I raised for sixteen years wasn’t my biological child. The nanny’s daughter had been spoiled like a little princess in our home, while my own flesh and blood suffered out in the country. After bringing my real daughter back, I insisted on sending the adopted daughter away. But my husband and son absolutely refused. My husband claimed the adopted daughter was poised and well-mannered, perfect for keeping up appearances in our social circle. My son complained that his biological sister was a tacky, uncultured hillbilly who would embarrass him in public. Watching the light fade from my real daughter’s eyes, I took her hand. “Then let’s get a divorce. I’ll raise my daughter on my own.” 01 “Is this the only reason you want to divorce me?” William stared at me in disbelief. “Victoria, have you lost your mind?” I shook my head. “I am perfectly serious. We are getting a divorce.” Our twelve-year-old son, Oliver, was completely stunned. When he finally found his voice, he looked at me with a mixture of shock and betrayal. “Mom, you’re leaving Dad, leaving my sister, and leaving me… all because of that country bumpkin?!” “Oliver Hawthorne!” I glanced anxiously toward the staircase, my brow furrowing in a stern reprimand. “Watch your mouth! That is your biological sister!” “I will never accept her as my sister!” Oliver’s face flushed bright red, his voice rising in anger. “She’s just an unpresentable hillbilly!” “She’s tacky, she’s uncultured, she has a rotten heart, and now she’s manipulating you into divorcing Dad!” “I hate her! I only have one sister, and that’s Isabella!” He bolted out the door in tears. William immediately called for the staff to chase after him, then turned to me with an accusing glare. “Are you happy now that you’ve caused this kind of scene?” “Can’t the two girls just coexist? Why do you insist on sending Isabella back? It’s not like our family can’t afford to raise her. She is your daughter too!” “I can no longer look at her as my daughter.” A wave of fury washed over me, followed quickly by an overwhelming, uncontrollable sorrow. “Did you not read Audrey’s medical reports? Do you have any idea how agonizing her life has been in that house?” “For the past sixteen years, we gave Isabella a life of absolute privilege, happiness, and joy. Meanwhile, our biological daughter was abused by her adoptive family for sixteen long years.” “After seeing the scars on Audrey’s body, I can never look at Isabella the same way again.” William’s face darkened, his frustration palpable. “Then we’ll just compensate Audrey moving forward! Isn’t that enough?” “The mistake was made by her biological parents! It has nothing to do with Isabella. She is innocent in all of this!” “Was all your love and affection for Isabella over the years fake?” My voice caught in my throat. “My love for Isabella over the past sixteen years was entirely predicated on the belief that she was my biological daughter.” “If Audrey had been treated kindly by that family, I wouldn’t feel this intense revulsion toward Isabella. But the reality is, even if Isabella didn’t know the truth, she still stole the life that rightfully belonged to Audrey.” I enunciated every word clearly: “She is not innocent.” William’s eyes flickered; he seemed momentarily swayed. But then, a tearful, trembling voice came from behind me: “Mom…” The half-open front door was pushed wide. Isabella walked in, wearing her school uniform and carrying her backpack. Her steps were heavy, her eyes red as she fought back tears. “Do you really not want me anymore?” The moment she spoke, William’s heart broke. He rushed over to her, his voice softening instantly. “Don’t listen to your mother’s nonsense. She’s just so worried about your sister that she’s not thinking straight. Right, Victoria?” He shot me a desperate look, silently begging me to play along. Isabella looked at me with those same pleading eyes, tears brimming, threatening to spill over at any second. If it were the old me, seeing her look so pitiful would have shattered my heart. But looking at her now, all I felt was profound, seething hatred. In my past life, it was only after my death that I learned the truth: the world I lived in was the setting of a “switched at birth” novel, where the fake daughter was the beloved protagonist. My biological daughter, Audrey, was the true heiress, but in the narrative, she was cast as the malicious secondary villain. Her identity had been maliciously swapped. She was raised in the countryside, suffering sixteen years of horrific abuse at the hands of her adoptive parents. One would think that returning to her rightful family would finally bring her happiness. But to everyone’s shock, whether it was her biological parents, the household staff, or even the teachers and students at her new school—everyone favored the fake daughter, Isabella. Everyone pitied Isabella for losing her status as the “true heiress,” yet no one ever bothered to ask Audrey how she had survived the past sixteen years. Including me. Her own biological mother. Under the insidious influence of the novel’s “plot,” every time I resolved to compensate my suffering biological daughter, the moment I laid eyes on Isabella, my mind and heart would be entirely consumed by her. Driven to extremes by this universal rejection, Audrey became radicalized, targeting Isabella at every turn. She died on her twenty-fourth birthday. It was the day of Isabella’s wedding to the male lead. Audrey had kidnapped Isabella, intending a murder-suicide, but was ultimately shot by a police sniper on the roof of a thirty-eight-story building. My physical body had held Isabella, weeping tears of joy for her safety, while my soul floated in the air, screaming in agony as I watched Audrey plummet thirty-eight stories to her death. “Victoria!” William’s harsh reprimand snapped me out of my memories. He frowned deeply, looking at me with a mix of anxiety and profound disappointment. “Are you truly willing to abandon the daughter you’ve raised for sixteen years for someone else?!” I instinctively looked up. The girl hiding near the staircase had a face ashen with despair, the light completely gone from her eyes. “Audrey is not ‘someone else’.” My breathing quickened, fueled by a potent mix of resentment and anger. “She is my precious daughter, carried in my womb for ten months! She is the one who should have been by my side for the past sixteen years!” I turned my glare toward Isabella, standing next to William, making absolutely no effort to hide my animosity: “If your biological parents hadn’t stolen my daughter, if you hadn’t usurped her place, Audrey would never have suffered all those years of torment!” Isabella’s face drained of color instantly. She murmured, “Mom…?” “Do not call me Mom!” I stared at her coldly. “I only have one daughter, and her name is Audrey.” Her tears spilled over instantly. She stumbled backward a few steps before turning and running out the door, sobbing. “Isabella!” William was both anxious and furious, his face dark as a thundercloud. “Did you have to speak to the child like that?!” “Victoria, when did you become so utterly unreasonable?” He threw that accusation at me and chased after her. I took a deep breath and looked toward the staircase. The space was empty; Audrey was gone. I walked straight upstairs and knocked on the door of the second-floor master bedroom. The door opened quickly. Audrey turned away in silence, walking back into the room. On the bed lay her backpack, packed and ready for reasons I couldn’t fathom. “You don’t need to do this. I know we are biologically mother and daughter, but in reality, we’re no different than strangers.” She kept her head down, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack tightly. “I’ll move out. It won’t disrupt your family’s life.” “But… could you perhaps lend me a little money? Just enough for a few months’ living expenses. Once school starts, I’ll find a part-time job near campus.” I choked back a sob for a long moment before I could finally say her name. “Audrey, everything Mom said downstairs was the absolute truth.” She froze. I took a deep breath and continued, “You saw everything just now, didn’t you?” “Then why are you afraid to believe what I said?” “I know it’s impossible for you to accept living under the same roof as Isabella and pretending to be loving sisters. Similarly, I find it impossible to continue playing mother and daughter with the thief who stole my biological daughter’s life.” I gently reached out and took her hand. “Can we live together from now on, just the two of us? Just you and me. You won’t have to worry about tuition or living expenses. Mom can provide for you.” I paused, my eyes growing hot. “Mom was always supposed to provide for you.” She didn’t answer, but her shoulders began to tremble. I leaned in closer and realized that, without me noticing, her face was covered in tears. She stopped pretending to be strong. She dropped the hardened shell she used to keep people at a distance. She turned and threw herself into my arms, choking out the two words with a raw, unfamiliar ache. “Mom.” I held her tight, my own tears flowing like a broken dam. 02 In my previous life, after Audrey’s death, Isabella and the male lead achieved their “happily ever after.” As the plot reached its conclusion, I gradually broke free from the narrative’s control and regained my sanity. Every night, I dreamt of Audrey’s final, desperate look before she died, and her body plummeting from the thirty-eighth floor. I developed severe insomnia, replaying the days after Audrey returned home over and over in my mind. We had all favored Isabella, ignoring Audrey, belittling her, looking down on her, and falsely accusing her. In the eight years she spent back in the Hawthorne family, she hadn’t experienced a single good day. In life, her reputation was destroyed; in death, she was despised and scorned by everyone. Her biological father had said, “If we had known she was going to hurt Isabella, we never would have brought her back!” Her biological brother had said, “Just thinking about having the same blood as that psycho makes me sick.” Her biological mother had said, “How could I have given birth to a monster like her?” The daughter I carried for ten months only experienced the treatment she deserved on the very first day she entered the world. Every day after that was filled with suffering. Once free from the plot’s control, I spent my days drowning in regret. By chance, I stumbled upon a conversation between Isabella and her biological parents. Only then did I discover that this seemingly fragile, kind-hearted adopted daughter had known her true identity since she was nine years old. She had incited her biological parents to abuse Audrey, even suggesting they sell her off to a remote mountain village to permanently bury the truth. Every single misfortune Audrey encountered after returning to the Hawthorne family had been orchestrated by Isabella. Her sole objective was to make everyone hate Audrey. I was paralyzed with shock. I burst out of hiding to confront Isabella, demanding to know why she did it. Whether under the plot’s control or through years of genuine interaction, I had always viewed her as my daughter. I hated that I couldn’t break free from the narrative sooner, and my heart bled for my biological daughter, Audrey. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to truly hate Isabella. I had raised her from a tiny infant into a beautiful young woman; she was my daughter too. I had always believed the gentle, kind persona she presented was her true self. Who could have imagined she was the mastermind behind my daughter’s tragic life? I was broken and despairing. But after a brief moment of panic, Isabella’s face contorted with hatred. “You forced me to do it!” “You all claimed you loved me the most! But the moment you found out I wasn’t your biological daughter, didn’t you immediately bring that bitch Audrey back?!” “And you, Mom! Didn’t you tell me I was your only daughter? So why did you look like you lost your soul when Audrey died?!” “And now, you’re here to accuse your favorite daughter over a dead person?! Why, Mom?! Why?!” We argued fiercely. In the ensuing struggle, she and her biological parents teamed up and pushed me off the second-floor balcony into an empty swimming pool. I died on impact. I thought my soul would descend to the underworld, where I might at least have the chance to beg Audrey for forgiveness. But to my shock, when I opened my eyes again, I had been sent back eight years in time. I was overjoyed to find that I was no longer under the plot’s control. My very first action was to bring Audrey back from the countryside. Ignoring William’s objections, I publicly announced Audrey’s true identity to the world. Then, I took Isabella’s biological parents to court. I was determined to give Audrey happiness. I would change her tragic fate, ensure she was happy every single day, and give her a completely new life. I refused to be the vicious supporting character in someone else’s script ever again. “Are you really… divorcing him for me?” As I helped Audrey pack her things to leave the Hawthorne mansion and move into a property under my name, she couldn’t hide her anxiety. “Will you regret it later? Giving all that up for me.” I told her with absolute certainty, “No.” “Your father and your brother chose Isabella, the girl they’ve lived with day in and day out. But I choose my biological daughter.” “I know this is incredibly unfair to you, but I want you to know: they abandoned you first. You don’t need to waste a single thought on them.” I looked deeply into her eyes. “You only need to know this: you are my daughter. We share the same blood. It is the closest bond in the world. You have nothing to worry about. Mom will prove it to you.” Her eyes reddened, and she nodded emphatically. Since I was going to change her tragic ending, this lifetime required cutting all ties with Isabella. I transferred Audrey to the top public high school in the city, explicitly avoiding the elite private academy Isabella attended. I also took her back to the Kensington family—my side of the family—to meet her grandfather, grandmother, uncle, and aunt. In my past life, the Kensington family had vastly preferred Audrey, the granddaughter who had suffered outside for over a decade, over Isabella. This time was no different. Compared to the spoiled, pampered Isabella, they clearly favored the sensible, obedient Audrey. Upon learning of my decision to divorce William, my parents and my brother were fully supportive. My marriage to William was a strategic business alliance. While we were fortunate enough to develop genuine feelings for each other after the wedding, those feelings had long since faded into a bland routine over the years. More importantly, he was keeping women on the side. Plural. In my past life, under the plot’s control, my sole imperative was to provide Isabella with a perfect, unbroken family, so I had tolerated it in silence. Free from those constraints in this life, I directly mailed him the evidence of his years of infidelity that I had gathered. Less than fifteen minutes later, he called. “What is the meaning of this?” I frowned. “Was I not clear enough?” “Honey,” William’s voice softened, adopting a placating tone. “We’ve been married for so many years. At our age, is this really necessary?” “I was just having some fun on the side. You know you’re the only official Mrs. Hawthorne. No one can change that.” “If you really don’t like it, I’ll spend more time at home with you and the kids. Audrey just got back; causing a scene like this right now isn’t a good look, is it?” “William Hawthorne,” I said, my tone hardening. “Let me reiterate this one more time. I am divorcing you. This is not a joke, and I am not playing games. I can no longer tolerate living with you.” “I find you repulsive. I find it repulsive that you are so blind you can’t even recognize your own biological daughter, choosing instead to treat a human trafficker’s child like a treasure. Do you understand me now?”

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My older brother fell in love with a delinquent girl and planned to elope with her in the dead of night. Afraid he was ruining his life, I told our parents. He was successfully stopped, and the delinquent girl went to Los Angeles all alone. Five years later, that girl became a massive Hollywood A-lister. She invited my brother to her movie premiere and, in front of all our old classmates, publicly “thanked” him for not keeping her company back then. Humiliated and deeply regretful, my brother blamed me for everything. My parents beat me too, thinking it was my fault the family lost out on a superstar daughter-in-law who could have made them rich. Unable to defend myself, I was beaten to death by my own family in a fit of rage. When I opened my eyes again, my brother was whispering to me, “I have to leave with Chloe tonight. Do not tell Mom and Dad.” This time, I smiled and gave him my blessing: “Have a safe trip. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” 1 My brother was going to elope. Tonight. In the dim hallway of our house, he was crouching under the stairs like a thief, whispering into his phone. “2:00 AM. I’ll be there.” “I promise. If I don’t show up, I’m a dog.” In my previous life, I had come out of my room to get some water, overheard him, and asked where he was going. Afraid I would tell our parents, he confessed the truth. His high school girlfriend had been “discovered” by a talent scout at the mall over the weekend. The scout gave her a business card and invited her to Los Angeles to sign with a management agency. Worried about her going alone, my brother planned to sneak out in the middle of the night to accompany her to the audition. I was shocked. I knew his girlfriend. Her name was Chloe Miller, and she was a notorious rebel. Word was her parents were going through a messy divorce, and she acted out by trashing her own life—smoking, drinking, skipping class, and sneaking out to go clubbing. During his junior year, the school hadn’t given up on her yet. They assigned my brother—a straight-A student—to tutor her. Who knew that a semester later, not only did Chloe not reform, but she dragged my brother into a secret relationship. When she broke her leg jumping a fence, my brother carried her to the hospital. When she smoked in the alley, my brother would frown and snatch the cigarette away. It wasn’t until they were caught skipping class that the school finally discovered their romance. They called both sets of parents and forced them to break up. At the time, I was an eighth-grader studying for my high school entrance exams. My brother was a junior, ranked first in his entire grade. My dad came home cursing, pulled off his belt, and beat my brother mercilessly, demanding he cut ties with her or be beaten to death. My mom and I desperately shielded him, taking a few hits ourselves, until my brother finally gave in and promised never to see her again. He cried his eyes out that night. The seventeen-year-old boy looked utterly devastated. I secretly asked him, “Lucas, do you really like her that much?” He bit his lip and nodded pitifully. I tried to comfort him. “Then you guys can date after you graduate! It’s just one more year until college. One year goes by so fast.” Hearing that, the light returned to his eyes, and he nodded. After that, Lucas never mentioned Chloe again. When I started my freshman year of high school, I never saw Chloe around him either. I truly thought they had broken up. I never expected that a year later, during winter break of his senior year, he would try to elope under the moonlight to help her become a star. To me, the news was like a blow to the head. In my past life, I was frantic. I couldn’t let it happen. He was too young, only eighteen. I was terrified of him going to LA alone. In this day and age, what real talent scout just hands out cards at a mall? If she wanted to be an artist, she should apply to a performing arts college. What’s more, my dad had just spent over two thousand dollars enrolling him in an intensive SAT winter boot camp. He was supposed to leave for the closed-campus camp the very next morning. If he ran away now, Dad would literally kill him. Lucas looked at me pleadingly, pressing his hands together in a begging motion. “Just this once, Emma. I promise I’ll be back in five days. I’ll bring you back souvenirs from California. Just please, do not tell Mom and Dad.” I shook my head profusely, absolutely refusing. In that life, I didn’t listen. I yelled and screamed, waking up our parents. That night, Lucas tried desperately to escape but was overpowered by my dad. Forced to stay, he texted Chloe that he couldn’t make it and told her not to go either. Chloe went anyway, replying with a single word—”Liar”—and vanished for five years. No one could have predicted that five years later, Chloe would actually become a massive superstar. Not only was she insanely famous, but she was also in a highly publicized PR romance with the heir of a wealthy media empire. At a class reunion, Chloe—now an A-list celebrity—thanked the school administration, thanked her classmates, and then personally raised a glass to Lucas. She mocked him for not standing by her, saying that if he had gone, the Chloe of today wouldn’t exist. Lucas was humiliated beyond belief. Even though he had graduated from a top-tier university and had a promising, high-paying career. He couldn’t let go of his first love’s mockery. He went home and complained bitterly to our parents, exaggerating everything. When I came home, completely oblivious, a brutal beating from my entire family was waiting for me. I was beaten to the brink of death. I tried frantically to explain, but Lucas smashed a glass bottle over my head, ending my life right there. When I woke up, I was back to five years ago, on the day of the elopement. Holding a trash bag, standing in the hallway. My mom yelled from inside the house, telling me to hurry up. I snapped out of my daze, suppressed the bitter ache in my chest, and walked toward the stairs. When I came back, Lucas was guarding the door. He stared at me warily. “Did you hear me on the phone just now?” 2 I looked at his face, my heart aching terribly. This was my own flesh-and-blood brother. How could he bear to beat me to death? I only ever wanted the best for him. What did I do wrong?! Seeing me stay silent, Lucas frowned and pressed: “Did you hear something? I’m warning you, do not say a word to Mom and Dad.” Suddenly, it clicked. I realized he had been reborn too. Five years ago, he would never have spoken to me in that tone. Only the Lucas who deeply regretted his choices after Chloe became famous would treat me like this. I tested him with a cold smirk. “Where you go is none of my business. What, are you going to beat your sister to death like a murderer if I talk?” Lucas gasped. The look on his face instantly shifted to pure panic. His reaction confirmed my suspicion. The bitterness in my heart solidified, and any remaining hope I had for him vanished. I refused to believe a murderer could just get away with it in a lawful society. He must have been arrested eventually. And if he was arrested and still showed no remorse in this new life, why should I waste my breath? “Move.” I turned sideways, my face cold, trying to push past him. “Wait!” He grabbed my wrist, his face dark. “I accidentally killed you because I was out of my mind. But since we’re both back, you better keep your nose out of my business. Tonight, I am leaving with Chloe.” His tone was incredibly stubborn, as if terrified I would stop him again. My blood ran cold. “If you want to go, go. Let go of me!” He didn’t let go. Hearing my words, his grip only tightened. “I’m not joking around with you! In our past life, because of you, Chloe and I missed our chance. God took pity on me and gave me a second chance. I have to go with her tonight. Do not tell Mom and Dad, or I’ll make you pay!” I couldn’t take it anymore. Unable to suppress my rage, I gripped my house keys and slammed them as hard as I could into his chest. He cried out in pain and instinctively let go. I immediately screamed at the top of my lungs: “Mom! Mom! Lucas hit me!” Lucas jumped, terrified, and rushed over to cover my mouth. At this point in time, my mom still loved me. She hadn’t yet developed the resentment she would harbor five years later. I screamed so pitifully that both my parents rushed out in a panic. Seeing Lucas frantically covering my mouth, they immediately started smacking and scolding him. I went into my room crying, locking the door without explaining anything. Lucas spent the whole evening in a state of paranoia. It wasn’t until I took a shower and went back to my room that he finally let out a sigh of relief and sent me a text. “Let’s wipe the slate clean. Once I make it big, I’ll make it up to you.” I sneered. That was a human life. If we hadn’t been reborn, how would you possibly make it up to me? “Have a safe trip. Don’t let the door hit you.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, gritted my teeth, sent the message, and blocked his number. Let it be. If he wanted to be brave and chase love, that was his business. From now on, I am Emma Davis. If I ever meddle in his affairs again, I’m a dog! 3 The next few days were quiet. My brother ran away in the middle of the night. He went straight to Los Angeles. He was smart and completely prepared. In his past life, he had found a shady clinic to write a fake emergency room note for our mom. He had a classmate going to the same winter camp submit it for him, making the teachers think he missed camp to care for his hospitalized mother. At home, however, he left a letter for our parents saying he left in the middle of the night to catch a discounted bus to save them money. He told them not to worry, that he was already at the camp, and would text them once he was settled. With this manipulation, he managed to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. My parents were so moved, thinking their son was incredibly mature. The teachers didn’t call, never imagining a top student would lie like that. I just sneered in the background. Seeing my mom wipe away tears of affection was almost comical. She had no idea the teachers thought she was fighting for her life in an ER. I didn’t expect my brother to be so thorough. He really racked his brain for love. In my past life, I stopped him, and he hated me for five years. The first three years weren’t too bad. Even though Chloe had blocked him, she was a nobody, and my brother didn’t know her situation. He was just cold and sarcastic towards me. But in the fourth year, Chloe suddenly blew up. After that, my brother’s mental state completely collapsed. He always believed I was the one who tore them apart. If I hadn’t been so nosy, he would be the boyfriend of a massive superstar. How could the girl who used to sit on his lap be so out of reach now? So he hated me. He found every way possible to torture and retaliate against me at home. He would spit in my toothbrush cup. He would deliberately pee on my face towel. At first, my parents intervened, thinking a grassroots celebrity was nothing special. But as Chloe got more famous, making millions a movie, my parents started feeling the sting too. They realized they had lost a cash-cow daughter-in-law. I had tried to find Chloe, hoping to reconcile her and my brother. But Chloe refused to see me and ignored my DMs. I had to endure my brother’s resentment, tolerating it as long as he didn’t cross the line. Now, everything was back on track. He got what he wanted, following Chloe to Los Angeles. Whatever the consequences, it had nothing to do with me anymore. I really wanted to see if he could make it to the end with Chloe. You have to remember, in our past life, Chloe didn’t become famous until three years later. As a high school senior, could he really survive in LA to support her for three years? Time flew by. In a blink, it was six days later. For six straight days, aside from the initial “I’m safe” text, my brother hadn’t sent a single message. My mom complained to me, wondering why he was so busy. Even at a closed-campus camp, they should give the students some free time. It had been so long, and he hadn’t even called. I comforted her with a few words, rolling my eyes internally. He finally reunited with his white swan after five years. They were probably exploring the birds and the bees in some motel room. At their age, fueled by passion, who remembers to call their mom? But then I thought about it and realized that couldn’t be it. My brother had said before he left that he would return to the camp in five days max. If he stayed away too long and his cover was blown, my dad wouldn’t let him off easily. But now it was day seven, and he still hadn’t returned. I felt a bit uneasy. On one hand, I hoped he was fine. On the other hand, he was my biological brother; if something really happened, covering for him wouldn’t do me any favors. During my hesitation, on the eighth day, news finally came. It was the LAPD calling. “Hello, is this the family of Lucas Davis?” “This is the Los Angeles Police Department.” “We busted a human trafficking and scam ring. Your son, Lucas, was held captive inside…” My mom had the phone on speaker while watching TV. Hearing that call, we were both stunned. Wait, my brother went to LA with Chloe to chase a dream, and ended up in a human trafficking ring??? 4 Facts proved that chasing dreams while young is risky. The police said my brother was lured into the trafficking ring on his second day in LA. He was abused for six days before they successfully escaped, thanks to Chloe calling the cops. When we saw my brother in the hospital, I could hardly believe my eyes. He was in a hospital gown, covered in bruises. He sat on the bed like a wilted vegetable, staring blankly out the window, his face a mask of complete numbness. The doctors told us he had endured horrific torture. He had been sexually assaulted and contracted syphilis. My mom couldn’t believe it and broke down crying on the spot. Hearing her familiar voice, my brother turned his head slowly. He stared at my mom for a few seconds before letting out a loud, agonizing wail. He struggled to crawl over, collapsing into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. My dad had come in full of rage, wanting to demand why he was here. But seeing my brother like that, all his anger vanished. The three of them hugged and cried like survivors of a disaster movie. I stood to the side, feeling incredibly awkward. I couldn’t force a tear out if I tried, feeling completely out of place. From the police, we learned the details of my brother’s ordeal. It turned out the “talent scout” who gave Chloe the card was a con artist. The syndicate they ran was pure evil. Anyone lured in would be subjected to severe abuse. After breaking them down, the captives were either forced to join the scammers to trick others, or, if they were disobedient, their organs would be harvested and sold on the black market. My brother was in disbelief. In his past life, he firmly believed Chloe flourished under that scout’s guidance three years later. He never imagined the guy was a fraud. Chloe was cautious at first and didn’t want to trust him easily. But my brother, terrified the scout would leave, kept urging her to listen. The two of them had dinner with the scout, and the next day they were drugged and taken to a compound on the outskirts of the city. If Chloe hadn’t been incredibly resilient—jumping from a second-story window and miraculously surviving to call the police—they might still be in there suffering today. “Mom, you have no idea what monsters they are.” “They didn’t just beat me, they… they violated me.” “I don’t want to live anymore. I want to die. What am I going to do with my life?!” My brother was hysterical, clinging to my mom, tears streaming down his face. I lowered my eyes, pretending to be sad, honestly not knowing how to react. In our past life, I stopped him, and he blamed me for tearing him and Chloe apart. This time he went, only to drag Chloe into a trafficking ring with him. Is this what they call instant karma? The universe’s justice is swift and merciless. Chloe was supposed to be a mega-star in five years. If I were her, having been dragged into this nightmare, I’d crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to strangle him! At the same time, I was incredibly confused. Since that talent scout was a fraud, how did Chloe become a superstar three years later? Did the scammers suddenly grow a conscience, let her go, and invest millions to make her famous? Or did she go to LA alone in her past life, remain highly vigilant, and avoid getting kidnapped altogether? This question didn’t trouble me for long. Two days later, a teenage boy in a wheelchair rolled into my brother’s hospital room. 5 I recognized this boy. His name was Sebastian Vance. He had another identity: the grandson of the Chairman of Vance Media Group, and the heavily rumored boyfriend of Chloe when she became famous in my past life. I never expected to meet him here, but I recognized him instantly. I was even more surprised when my brother, who had been crying for two days, forced a smile and greeted him upon seeing him. “Sebastian, you’re here. How are you holding up? I heard your family came to get you?” His tone was so familiar, I almost thought they were close friends. Sebastian smiled faintly and replied, “I’m alright. My injuries aren’t too bad. But what about you? Are you holding up?” My brother, ever fragile, teared up immediately. Choking back sobs, he said, “I’m surviving.” My dad was out of the room. He had heard his precious son came to LA to accompany Chloe to an audition. He had spent the last two days looking for her, going room to room asking where Chloe’s room was, vowing to settle the score with her. My mom poured Sebastian a cup of water and asked who he was. Sebastian smiled as he took it. “I’m a friend of Lucas’s. Actually, we met while we were locked up. If Chloe hadn’t jumped out the window to call the cops, we wouldn’t even know how long we’d be trapped there.” Hearing this, it all clicked into place for me. No wonder Chloe still became a star in the past life despite being scammed. She ended up trapped in a trafficking ring with the young heir of a media empire! Talk about a blessing in disguise! Chloe’s debut in my past life was highly secretive. No one knew she had been in a trafficking ring. She disappeared for three years, and her very first role was the lead in the hottest fantasy drama of the year. The following two years were smooth sailing. Many people shipped her with various actors, but the most aggressive PR shipping was with Sebastian. Sebastian visited her sets constantly, and the agency she signed with upon her debut was owned by Vance Media. The entertainment industry is full of smoke and mirrors, with many rumors based on hearsay. Now, seeing Sebastian, I could basically confirm it. Thinking about the past, Chloe must have ended up in that trafficking ring, but she dared to jump from the window. Or rather, after she escaped with someone’s help, she became friends with Sebastian because of that shared trauma. One was a naive girl lured to LA by a fake scout while chasing a dream. The other was the grandson of a media mogul, who just happened to have the resources to help the naive girl achieve that dream. This fairy-tale plot playing out in reality was truly unbeatable. It meant that in the past life, Chloe’s opportunity to become a star was entirely thanks to Sebastian. This guy was her secret benefactor. Meeting him in such bizarre circumstances was incredibly ironic. But… My gaze fell on Sebastian’s legs. In my past life, he was photographed by paparazzi wearing a tailored white suit, tall and fit. His legs were perfectly fine back then. Why was he in a wheelchair now? Did he get injured in the trafficking ring in this life? That was heartbreaking. I sincerely wished my brother was the only one who got hurt.

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I had a secret, messy romance with my stepmother’s son. The breakup was a disaster. Later, he got drunk, cornered me in the bathroom, and growled: “I guess I’m just a masochist. I want us to torture each other until we’re both old and gray. What are you going to do about it?” 1 As Christmas approached, I delayed as long as I could. Finally, under my father’s threats and bribes, I bought a plane ticket home. When I landed, Caleb was there to pick me up. This was our first time seeing each other since the breakup. In six months, he had changed. The boy who used to only wear light hoodies now wore a sharp, tailored black suit. Lean waist, long legs, a chiseled jawline, and a vacant expression. He looked cold, elite, and completely untouchable. “Hey, big brother…” I called out, my voice tight. He gave me a frigid glance. “Call me by my name. I don’t want to be your brother.” We broke up, so we can’t even be family anymore? I didn’t say a word, following him silently to the car. Sitting at the dinner table later, waiting for the food to be served, Caleb suddenly reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. He looked at the row of sparkling studs in my ear and let out a soft, dry laugh. “Seven piercings. You really aren’t afraid of pain, are you?” I bit my lip, my eyes stinging. To hide my face, I took a frantic gulp of my soda, only to choke on it. I ended up coughing until tears ran down my face. Karma is a bitch. Caleb watched me the whole time, his eyes as deep and dark as a well. He let my embarrassment hang in the air, exposed. Maybe I was being too sensitive, but I thought I saw a flash of contempt in his eyes. That holiday dinner felt like sitting on a bed of nails. I felt like a fish bone was stuck in my throat. Something was wrong. It wasn’t until that night, when Caleb knocked on my bedroom door with his dark mood on full display, that I realized what the problem was—Caleb hated me. He was radiating pure, unadulterated aggression. “Maya Miller, your life is a mess, isn’t it?” he said. “You’re imagining things. I’m incredibly happy. My boyfriend treats me like a queen,” I shot back. “Another boyfriend?” Caleb’s eyes darkened. He paused. “Who is he? Bring him around so I can check him out. Your taste in men has always been garbage. You can’t tell the difference between a good guy and a used car salesman.” “Bringing him home counts as ‘meeting the parents.’ Are you that eager to see me get married and move out of this house?” I countered. Our gazes locked in a silent war for a long time. Finally, Caleb took a step back. “Then we’ll meet in public. When are you setting it up?” “He’s very busy. I’ll talk to him and let you know.” My tone was arrogant. In front of Caleb, I was used to playing the role of the spoiled, fearless brat. But Caleb wasn’t going to coddle me anymore. He let out a cold snort and whispered, “Fine. Let’s see how much better this guy is than your ex.” 2 When I was very young, I accepted a hard truth. If a child loses her mother, she essentially loses her home. So, when I was twelve and Caleb and his mother moved in, I wasn’t repulsed. I was actually relieved. The day I dreaded had finally come, and I didn’t have to live in fear of the “unknown” anymore. If it wasn’t them, it would have been someone else. My father was always going to become someone else’s husband and someone else’s father. I didn’t know if understanding this so early made me mature or just cynical. I just knew it. I also knew that Caleb was gorgeous. Getting on his good side meant I had a handsome “brother” to show off, making all my boy-crazy friends follow me like loyal subjects. Caleb was three years older than me—quiet, introverted, and a man of few words. After becoming my brother, he didn’t have a single day of peace. During my teenage years, my rebellion hit like a hurricane. I was constantly looking for trouble. One day I was “defending” a friend from a rival; the next, I was playing backup for a fight. Caleb was terrified I’d get hurt, so he followed me everywhere. If I couldn’t win a fight, he’d jump in. If I was winning, he’d sit on the sidelines, doing his honors-level homework and reviewing his SATs. Once, after a particularly nasty brawl, we both came home bruised and battered. My dad, half-drunk and seeing me looking like a mess, immediately assumed Caleb had hit me. He didn’t see that Caleb was also covered in bruises, mostly on his torso. That day, my dad hit Caleb hard. “Protecting” me. Caleb wasn’t even angry. He actually comforted me afterward: “Your dad is still your dad. You’ll always be his favorite.” The truth was, when my dad misunderstood, I had intentionally stayed silent. I didn’t explain. I wanted to test my father to see what he would do. I didn’t expect Caleb to see right through my petty, mean-spirited plan. I was shocked and ashamed. I rolled my eyes at him and hissed, “Your dad is dead, so you came here to steal mine. Now you know you lost, right? In this house, you’ll always be an outsider.” Caleb turned around and didn’t say another word. It took a while for it to sink in just how toxic I was being. From that day on, my feelings for Caleb shifted into something subtle and strange. In the past, no matter how nice he was to me, I was indifferent. Because my dad was so good to his mother, I felt his kindness was just a way of paying a debt. It didn’t deserve my gratitude. But I had forgotten—if my dad was so good to his mother, it meant I was the one being pushed out of their perfect family unit. When I was twenty, in college, I had a brief, impulsive relationship. Within ten days, the guy cheated on me three times. Truly impressive. In the middle of the night, I called Caleb in a fit of rage and grief. I ended up falling asleep while cursing the guy out. When I woke up, my roommate told me my brother was waiting downstairs. I ran out of the dorm and saw that lean, tall silhouette standing in the blinding morning sun. I went to grab his arm, but he used his height advantage to press his palm against my forehead, keeping me at a distance. Caleb: “Who gave you permission to date?” Me: “Everyone in my dorm is dating. I wanted to try it too.” He took a deep, heavy breath. “If you wanted to try it, you could have told me.” Told you? For what? Before the words could leave my mouth, he pulled me into a crushing embrace. It was like the clouds suddenly parted. I could hear my own heartbeat racing out of rhythm, my face burning. Back then, I was too slow to realize Caleb loved me. I only realized that I was harborous “traitorous” thoughts about him. It was just one hug, but in my head, I had already rehearsed our entire wedding and a lifetime together. Young, hormonal girls can’t control their “evil” impulses. That’s how I justified it to myself later. It took three months of “Good morning,” “Good luck with your exam,” and “Goodnight” texts before he finally broke the tension and made it official. “We can’t let the family know,” I told him solemnly that day. “But every single one of your colleagues and friends needs to know I’m your girlfriend.” During the two years we were together, he was perfect. He listened to me, gave me everything I wanted. The grand gestures, the constant sharing, the attention to every little detail—he checked every box. But I was terrified. I felt like a disaster was coming, that this couldn’t last. Until the day I saw a beautiful, wealthy colleague of his confess her love to him. That was when I surrendered. That evening, I walked barefoot along the riverbank and made a decision: Forget it, Maya. Don’t ruin his chance at a normal life. You’re petty, you’re not that pretty, and you have a temper. You’re not good for him. Plus, you’re technically his sister. This path only gets harder. I don’t even understand my own psychology. Instead of a mature breakup, I decided to destroy everything. I said the most vicious, disgusting things I could think of to hurt him. “Maya, please don’t do this. I’ll quit. I’ll find a new job. I won’t ever have to see her again.” Caleb’s submissive, broken tone made me feel so ashamed I couldn’t breathe. I was a horrible person. I knew it, but my face remained a mask of cold indifference. After the breakup, I got a row of ear piercings. It hurt. They got infected. It hurt more. But I felt a sick sense of relief. Pain was a way to heal. Sometimes, I would intentionally seek out physical pain just so I wouldn’t feel so alone, so my longing wouldn’t swallow me whole. Caleb would never know that. “Seven piercings. You really aren’t afraid of pain, are you?” Caleb… do you really think I’m not afraid? 3 My first night back was a nightmare. I dreamt of chaotic, painful fragments. I felt like my mind was wide awake, but my body was paralyzed, unable to wake up. I slept for over ten hours, yet I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. My stepmother, Elena, asked if I was feeling sick. I nodded. “I feel a bit nauseous.” The second the words left my mouth, Caleb shot me a lethal glare from across the room. “Nauseous?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. He marched over to me, looking like he wanted to skin me alive. “What other symptoms?” My stomach did a somersault. I couldn’t answer; I just dashed for the bathroom. When I came out, Caleb was gone. Elena handed me a glass of warm water, her eyes searching mine. “Maya… did you and Caleb have a falling out?” “Maybe… I don’t know,” I replied. Fifteen minutes later, Caleb came bursting through the front door, breathless. Ignoring his mother, he grabbed my arm, dragged me into his room, and slammed the door. My heart was hammering against my ribs. “Are you crazy?!” I hissed. Caleb shoved something into my hands. “Go. Now.” I looked down. It was a pregnancy test. I didn’t know whether to be angry or laugh. He thought I was pregnant? Did he even care if I was? Prompted by a sliver of hope, I decided to test him. “There’s nothing to check. If I’m pregnant, I’ll just keep it.” “Maya Miller, when did you become such a disaster?” Caleb stared at me, his eyes overflowing with disappointment. I’ve known him for years. I’ve seen him in every mood. But I had never seen him look so helpless, so utterly defeated. That “exclusivity” gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction, even as it made me feel small. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the hallway. A second later, the door flew open. “You’re pregnant?!” My dad, his face bright red, charged into the room. Elena was right behind him, looking terrified. I instinctively tried to hide the pregnancy test, but to my dad, it looked like a confession of guilt. He roared, his hand flying up to slap me. But before it could land, Caleb caught his wrist. “You are not allowed to touch her.” The words “not allowed” made both my father and Elena gasp. “Caleb! How can you talk to your father like that?” Elena looked at her son in shock. Caleb let go of my dad’s hand. He stood in front of me, a silent, immovable shield. Elena tried to play the peacemaker. “Let’s all calm down. We’re a family; we can talk this out. Robert, Maya, you two need a proper heart-to-heart.” A family? Looking at them, they looked like a perfect family of three. I was just the intruder, the one who ruined their harmony. “I wish Maya was even half as sensible as Caleb,” my dad’s voice from a conversation I overheard last night echoed in my head. “I’ve spent my life serving her mother, and now I’m stuck serving her. It’s a curse.” I smiled, dropped the pregnancy test on the floor, and stepped out from behind Caleb. “I’m not pregnant. I won’t embarrass you. Believe whatever you want.” I walked out without looking back, done with their judgment. “Maya! What kind of attitude is that?” my dad screamed after me. “If you ever do get pregnant out of wedlock, don’t you dare come back to this house!” It seemed that in front of his new wife, my dad was extra focused on his “manhood,” refusing to let his authority be questioned. When I was little, I didn’t understand that. I took a lot of hits for it. But now, I didn’t care. When you realize someone isn’t worth your heart, everything they do becomes white noise. 4 The second I stepped outside, the bone-chilling wind hit me from all directions. I stood in the snow, still shaking from the humiliation, when I saw Caleb chasing after me. He was wearing a black parka, the bottom half of his face buried in a thick fur collar, leaving only his cold, sharp eyes visible. In his arms, he held a plush “Patrick Star” hand warmer—something that completely clashed with his vibe. He walked up and shoved the hand warmer into my arms. “Go home. It’s cold.” I shook my head. “Caleb… take me somewhere. I don’t want to be alone.” We drove for hours until we reached a quiet cemetery. The sun was setting, the sky a heavy gray. Caleb and I sat in front of a headstone. It was peaceful here. Just rows and rows of silent stone. “I told your mom everything,” I said, a faint smile on my lips. “Including us.” Caleb’s nose was red from the cold, making him look unusually vulnerable. He turned to me, his lashes fluttering. “So… why did you really break up with me?” Why? Pride and love were a toxic mix. Reality and dreams were pulling in opposite directions. I was trapped in the middle, and I eventually just broke. But I couldn’t tell him the truth—I love you, but I’m terrified of hurting you. I love you, and that makes me dangerous. “I couldn’t see a future for us. I didn’t want to waste any more time. I wanted an easy life,” I said flatly. He didn’t reply. He just stared at my mother’s headstone. “Did you know? My mom cut off her entire family to marry my dad. Her ‘epic’ love story lasted less than three years before it turned into mutual loathing. And then, your mom came along and effortlessly got all the tenderness my mom spent her life begging for.” I looked into the distance and sighed. I had never told anyone that. When I was a kid, I hated my mom for being selfish, for leaving me alone and choosing death. But as I grew up and saw the world for what it was, I started to understand her pain. Just a little bit. On the drive back, I rested my head against the window, watching the world blur by. At a red light, a hand suddenly gripped mine. “Let’s get married.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. It felt like a needle had pierced my heart. I yanked my hand away, shrinking into the passenger seat, my body tense. “Are you insane?” Then, a thought struck me. I added, “I have a boyfriend.” Caleb pulled his hand back, his expression turning to stone as he stared at the road ahead. The car was silent. I looked away from him, my heart racing. If someone chose me with such reckless, unwavering conviction, I think I would crumble. But that kind of luck doesn’t happen to girls like me. Or maybe, I just didn’t believe I was a stable enough person to handle it. I knew I wasn’t. That night, I was on the balcony smoking. The city lights were a blur. Through the glass, I could see them inside, a “happy family” chatting. Elena walked onto the balcony. Her usual gentle expression was replaced by something heavy. “Maya, can we talk?” I felt a cold pit in my stomach. She knew. 5 “I’ve arranged a date for Caleb. She’s a PhD student who just got back from Europe. Like Caleb, she’s been a high-achiever since she was a kid. She’s poised, well-bred… and most importantly, she comes from a very stable, happy family. She’s a very healthy, whole person.” She was a brilliant woman. With just a few words, she had effectively shredded my soul. I struggled in school. I wasn’t particularly pretty. I wasn’t poised or well-bred. And “a healthy, whole person”? That hit like a freight train. I stood in the shadows, hoping she couldn’t see the shame and devastation on my face. Elena continued, “Caleb refuses to see her. Maya, can you help me think of something?” “What do you want me to do?” I asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Just talk to him. Tell him a girl like that is a rare find. It would be a shame to miss out.” She patted my hand affectionately. A rare find… I repeated her words in my head and almost laughed. “I have a girlfriend.” Caleb’s voice cut through the air. I turned and saw him standing there, his eyes like ice. He walked over, tossed the Patrick Star hand warmer into my lap, and stared at his mother. “Once I’ve convinced her to stay, I’m going to marry her.” The air felt like it was freezing. After a long pause, Elena looked at me with a forced smile. “Maya, do you know who his girlfriend is?” “No idea.” I made the choice without a second’s hesitation. Elena let out a long sigh of relief, her first genuine smile of the night appearing. “I’ll go cut some fruit. You two chat.” When we were alone, neither of us spoke. We just stared into the dark. Then, my phone rang. “Maya, babe, did you miss me?” The night was so quiet that Caleb heard every word. I saw his shoulders go rigid. “Yeah,” I replied. Caleb turned and walked away instantly, like something was chasing him. Watching his back, the tears I’d been holding back all night finally fell. If he had turned around, he would have seen my pathetic lie—that I was falling apart, and I was only using this “boyfriend” as a shield for my pride. I’m usually not that patient, but tonight I stayed on the phone with the caller for a long time. I needed a distraction. Any distraction. “Maya, I hate the holidays,” the person on the other end said. “Funny,” I replied. “Me too.” After I went back inside, Elena cornered me with a plate of fruit. “So Maya, when do we get to meet your boyfriend?” “In no rush,” I mumbled. I made an excuse and left the house, heading to a local dive bar. Surrounded by smoke and noise, I drank and ate, trying to fill the hole in my chest. It didn’t work. On my way to the restroom, I tripped. Just as my face was about to meet the floor, a hand caught me and pulled me into a chest that smelled like fresh rain. In the dim light, I saw Caleb’s worried face. I broke. The alcohol let the dam burst, and I sobbed. I was a giant balloon that had finally popped. He held me tight, letting me vent everything. Afterward, I splashed cold water on my face at the sink. I looked in the mirror and saw a numb, hollow face. How did I end up like this? a voice in my head asked. “Let’s go home,” Caleb whispered beside me. I ignored him, still staring at the mirror. “Let’s go to our home,” he said firmly. That night, maybe because of the alcohol, I slept like a baby. In my dream, I was SpongeBob. I asked, “Patrick, why are you named Patrick?” And Patrick looked at me and said, “Because I was sent by God to be the star that protects you.” It was a childish dream, but it was a real memory from my childhood. I woke up the next morning at 10 AM. I rubbed my pounding head and looked around at the unfamiliar room. Where was I? Did Caleb sell me? 6 In the open-concept kitchen, Caleb was focused on cooking. The morning sun hit his profile perfectly. Everything looked like a movie scene. I didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. After a while, Caleb turned around. He looked at me and said seriously, “You have sleep in your eye.” And just like that, the magic was gone. I glared at him. “Stay out of my business.” Caleb nodded solemnly and went back to the stove. “Whatever. I love you no matter how you look.” Wait… Was he flirting? During our two years together, he was a man of action, rarely using “magic attacks” like this. Back then, if I tried to act cute, he’d push me away and tell me to speak normally. I sat at the table waiting for food. Caleb set a bowl down and said casually, “You slept in my arms last night. If your boyfriend finds out, he won’t be mad, will he?” I froze. In his arms? “What did you do to me?” Caleb stopped and looked at me with a look of pure, unblemished hurt, accusing me of being heartless. I swallowed hard. “Did I… do something to you?” He suddenly reached out and gently ruffled my hair. For a second, I felt like we were back in our relationship. “Caleb, where are we?” I asked, trying to break the spell. He spooned some porridge for me. “Our future home.” What? His pupils contracted slightly. “I started planning this before you even brought up the breakup.” I couldn’t look at him. I just focused on the porridge. It was hot. It burned my throat. It felt like it was burning my whole soul. “Maya,” he said, crouching down to be eye-level with me. “Do you even love me?” His voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. I tried to stand up and run, but he caught me. “You’re just fighting with yourself. I’ll make it okay. You can come back.” “Caleb, don’t do this to yourself,” I rasped. If he hated me, I could handle it. But I couldn’t handle this—him being heartbroken and still trying to wipe my tears. “Love is just getting trapped over and over,” Caleb said. “Don’t give up on me.” “Caleb, I didn’t give up on you. I gave up on myself.” I didn’t think I deserved beautiful things. My whole life was a series of losses. Losing my mom, losing my dad, losing my dignity, losing my trust… I had even lost myself. “Then I’ll be the person who never gives up on you.” For a long time, my brain went white. My body was shaking. By the time I found my voice, he was already kissing me. It was aggressive. Fierce. A kiss that felt like it would never end. Before my brain could catch up, my body had already given him the answer.

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“So you never even liked me? Chloe just paid you to string me along?” The arrogant young heir standing in front of me looked as black as a thundercloud. I lowered my head, drowning in guilt and regret. “I’m sorry…” “Get the hell out!” His eyes were completely red. I felt a twinge of pity, but I was more afraid of getting hit. The guy was notorious for his terrible temper. So, I grabbed my bag and bolted. Faintly, I heard the sound of glass shattering behind me, followed by a roar: “I tell you to get out and you actually leave?! You liar!” It must be my imagination. Definitely my imagination! 1 My roommate wore a Vacheron Constantin watch, carried a Hermès Himalayan Birkin, and wore Graff necklaces. We should have been mortal enemies based on social class alone, but when she came back from the Fourth of July weekend, she actually gave me a Chanel bag. What she said was even more unbelievable: “I think you’re pretty. I want to be friends.” “Friends? From this day forward, I am your humble servant!” This rich girl was perfect in every way, except she was always trying to bribe me. We were having a perfectly nice dinner when she scrolled through Twitter, her face turning red with anger. She looked at me pleadingly. “Emma, do me a favor. Please.” “What is it? Tell me,” I asked, suddenly feeling a sense of impending doom. The rich girl had an older brother who went to the university next door. His name was Carter Hayes. The name was pretty famous around here. Playboy, heartbreaker, incredibly handsome, filthy rich, terrible temper. The classic spoiled heir. And she had the absolute audacity to ask me to seduce her brother, Carter. “Why would I do that? Chloe, are you crazy?” “You are exactly his type! He’ll definitely fall for it. Please, Emma…” Chloe’s eyes actually seemed to well up with tears. But I still didn’t get it. She angrily tapped on a Twitter post to show me. It was bad enough that Carter had bullied her since they were kids. But now, the girl she hated most in the world had gotten into Carter’s university and had her sights set on him. Her brother was a massive playboy, and that girl was a manipulative snake. If they actually got together, Chloe’s life would be an absolute nightmare. She needed me to nip this horrific possibility in the bud. What kind of childish logic was this? “Ten thousand.” “Twenty thousand.” “Fifty thousand.” A person shouldn’t have such a rigid bottom line that they refuse cold, hard cash. “Okay, okay, okay. Your humble servant is at your command.” 2 Actually, I had never taken Chloe’s money before, but I felt I needed to cultivate the excellent quality of bowing to the almighty dollar. So, every time she accidentally said “thousand” instead of “dollars,” my resolve crumbled. But now, standing in a super short dress next to Chloe in a club her brother frequented, I was seriously regretting my life choices. “There’s my brother!” Chloe excitedly grabbed my wrist, pointing to the tallest guy in a group walking through the door. The lighting in the club was dim and suggestive. But Carter still stood out like a beacon. No wonder he was a playboy. He was undeniably gorgeous, and he had the swagger to match. Wasting no time, Chloe dragged me right up to Carter. “Carter, transfer some money to me. I blew through my allowance this month.” “Do I owe you something?” Carter didn’t even look up. He cupped his hand to block the draft and lit a cigarette. The brief flare of the lighter illuminated his striking features, making me almost forget to breathe. He was insanely hot. That single sentence ignited the rich girl’s fury. She let go of me, ready to “debate” her brother. Carter casually pushed his sister aside with one hand. As he looked up, his gaze landed right on me. His dark eyes instantly filled with interest. “How much do you need?” Everyone in the vicinity was stunned by that question. “A million, probably.” Chloe suppressed her anger, haughtily holding her hand out to her brother, while secretly shooting me a meaningful look. See? I told you he’d fall for you. I’m innocent. I literally haven’t done anything. Carter looked down and transferred the money. Once Chloe received it, she grabbed me, ready to leave. “Why are you running? You took the money. Aren’t you going to sit and hang out with your big brother for a bit?” The word “brother” coming out of Carter’s mouth sounded completely wrong. But Chloe, acting like she owed him now, reluctantly stopped and dragged me to sit in a corner booth. As the vibe picked up, Chloe got totally into it, completely forgetting why she came here in the first place, and started playing dice and drinking with some random hot guy. Fortunately, Carter was very proactive. Before I knew it, he was sitting right next to me. His eyes slowly swept over my bare legs. He slid a glass of fruity cocktail toward me. “Want a drink?” My mom always told me never to take drinks from strangers. I clutched the edge of my dress and shook my head. Carter let out a soft chuckle. “Afraid I spiked it?” After saying that, he took a sip from the glass himself, then lowered his eyes and started playing on his phone. All the way until the end of the night. It seemed like I was just a classic case of an overconfident girl imagining things. He wasn’t interested in me at all. I helped a very drunk Chloe out the door. “Give me your number. Text me when she gets to the dorm. If she throws up, let me know.” Carter pulled up his QR code for me to scan. I scanned it, silently cursing him in my head. If you actually cared about your sister, you’d drive her back yourself! But on the outside, I gave him a perfectly innocent, sweet smile. “Okay, I will.” 3 After getting Chloe back to the dorm, I texted Carter: “We’re at the dorm. Chloe is already in bed asleep.” “K.” He was so cold I didn’t even know how to respond. I had no choice but to regretfully go wash up. When I got back, I found out he had actually “liked” every single post on my Instagram. Was this… a silent, aggressive flirtation? Truly a master playboy. He knew exactly what he was doing. Not knowing his type, I didn’t dare make a reckless move. But I was sure of one thing: a spoiled heir like him would never tolerate someone disrespecting him. Like earlier at the club, when I refused his drink, he was definitely annoyed. So, I sensibly went over to his Instagram to “like” all his posts in return, only to find out his profile was private to me. “Did you block me on Instagram?” “?” That single question mark left me speechless. “I saw you liked all my posts, so I wanted to return the favor, but I can’t see anything.” “I didn’t block you. I just don’t post.” Well, that killed the conversation. I saw it was getting late, so I didn’t try to force a connection. I tossed my phone aside and went to sleep. I didn’t expect to wake up the next morning and find several messages from Carter. “Playing Mafia tomorrow night. We need one more. You in?” “Don’t want to play?” “Found someone else. Never mind.” “You went to sleep? This early?” I really wanted to laugh. Maybe his success as a playboy was purely based on his looks. He actually had zero game. No! It’s an act! Realizing he was playing the “innocent boy” card, I suddenly felt a surge of competitive spirit. Life is short, you have to find ways to entertain yourself. “I fell asleep yesterday, but I really want to play Mafia… Could you ask me first next time?” Carter didn’t reply all morning. True to the rumors, he had a massive ego. It wasn’t until I was having lunch that he finally messaged back. “Just woke up. 6 PM tonight. I’ll send you the location later.” I fell asleep early, so he “just woke up.” This guy was petty and vengeful. Thinking about it, I couldn’t help but smile and replied with an “Okay.” Chloe leaned over. “Why are you smiling so happily… My brother? Let me tell you, do NOT fall for his tricks. He’s a total player, a complete jerk! Really! You should only be after his money, his face, and his body. Oh, and pissing off that manipulative snake while you’re at it.” For the Mafia game tonight, Chloe was convinced the “snake” would definitely be there. So she insisted on coming with me to play wingman and piss the girl off. Sure enough, when we arrived, a girl in a white dress was standing next to Carter, looking like a stiff breeze could blow her over. Soft, harmless. Carter was looking down, listening to her talk. He even reached out to steady her when she “almost tripped.” The scene looked quite picturesque. Truly a playboy. Wasn’t he afraid I, the new “fish” on his line, would see this and bolt? Carter’s gaze happened to sweep over us. He naturally withdrew his hand, and even put a little distance between himself and the “snake.” He was pretty good at acting. The “snake” naturally noticed Carter’s sudden distance and followed his gaze. Even though the rich girl beside me was looking at her like she wanted to eat her alive, she actually smiled at us gently. “Long time no see.” The four of us walked toward the board game cafe. It was a bit of a maze inside, taking a while to navigate. During the walk, Chloe constantly and relentlessly threw passive-aggressive shade at the “snake.” But the “snake” acted as if she couldn’t understand Chloe’s insults, remaining perfectly gentle the entire time. Chloe was getting absolutely destroyed. Even though I was pinching her arm, I couldn’t stop her anger from escalating. Finally, Carter stopped walking and frowned at Chloe. “Is this how Mom and Dad taught you to speak to people?” “You and I are exactly the same, Carter, so don’t even start! You think you’re so polite and cultured? You’re only defending Maya because you think she’s pretty!” Honestly, I had never seen a brother and sister with such a terrible relationship. Carter clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes to suppress his anger. But that “Get the hell out” was practically bubbling on his lips. If he said it and Chloe ran away, I would definitely have to chase after her. Wouldn’t that mean the “snake” won today? No wonder Chloe couldn’t beat her. I quickly grabbed the hand Carter was pointing at his sister with. “Don’t be mad. Chloe didn’t mean it.” It was bizarre. The young master was like an over-inflated balloon that suddenly lost all its air. He looked down at our joined hands, then glanced at me, let out a soft “Hmph,” turned around, and kept walking. Maya shot me a look and quickly followed him. Only Chloe stood frozen like a little kid, part angry, part completely shocked. I pulled her outside and gave her a full analysis of the situation. The rich girl, who wasn’t actually stupid, instantly understood. She hugged me, praising my intelligence, and swore she would never target Maya directly and hand her free points again. She would absolutely not drag me down! Okay, let’s hope so. 4 Since everyone hadn’t arrived yet, we started playing Truth or Dare. Carter asked me, “Just based on first impressions, who here would you want to date?” The moment he asked that question, the atmosphere ignited. Everyone started cheering and hooting. “I guess I’d want to date whoever asked the question,” I replied, looking into his narrow, dark eyes with a smile. “What if someone else had asked?” “That’s a question for the next round.” The cute guy sitting next to Carter slapped his shoulder. “Look how anxious our Mr. Hayes is! Hahaha, when it’s my turn, I’ll definitely ask her for you!” I don’t know if my luck was just too good, but from then on until everyone arrived, I was never picked for Truth or Dare again. During the Mafia game, I drew a Mafia card and aggressively fake-claimed the Detective role. I successfully gained everyone’s trust and led the Mafia team to an easy victory. Carter, sitting next to me, propped his head on his hand and smiled at me. “Are all pretty girls this good at lying?” His eyes were so dark and bright. That hint of teasing made my heart race. Feeling my ears getting hot, I instinctively rubbed them. Before I could say anything, Maya, sitting across from us, complained to Carter in a whiny, spoiled tone. “Carter, I told you I was the Detective, but you still believed her. Next time I draw Detective, don’t be so foolish!” Carter lazily looked up and chuckled. “What if she actually draws it next time?” “Holy shit! Carter, you’re brutal!” Carter didn’t keep his voice down, and the people who heard him started hollering and cheering. In that atmosphere, even my face felt like it was burning. Only Chloe was thrilled. She pulled on my arm, her eyes shining with admiration, then smugly lifted her chin at Maya across the table. This suddenly brought me back to reality. I was almost completely won over by him… Help! Was the rich girl really throwing me into the fire? Her brother was so good at flirting, how was I supposed to resist? I could already see myself becoming the discarded victim of a playboy, completely heartbroken. Ugh, my life was a tragedy. After the game, everyone decided to get some late-night food. Carter still sat next to me. He even did something that completely threw me off guard. He ordered a plate of eel and asked if I wanted to try it. I looked at the long, slimy-looking things and politely shook my head. They looked too ugly; I couldn’t imagine swallowing one. “It’s really tender, tastes great.” Carter smiled and dropped the eel into the hot pot. “Then let me try a piece?” He didn’t say anything, just nodded. When the eel was cooked, the young master actually fished a piece out himself and put it in my bowl. Looking completely natural, he said, “Try it. If you don’t like it, give it to me.” I stared in shock at the young master, who was now looking down and eating his own food. The shock in my heart couldn’t be calmed for a long time. I wasn’t the only one shocked. Carter hadn’t lowered his voice, so basically everyone at the table heard. They looked at Carter as if they had seen a ghost, but no one dared to cheer or hoot like before. They were as quiet as mice. While waiting for our Ubers outside the restaurant, Carter stood next to me, playing on his phone. “Was the food good?” “Yeah.” “It was my treat.” Was I supposed to send him a Venmo request to split it? “How much was it? I’ll Venmo you.” That seemed to offend the young master. The moment the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake, but it was too late. The young master narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down. “?” His eyes were full of danger. “Uh… what do you want then?” Carter stood up straight, turned his head away, and didn’t look at me, only revealing his bright red ear tips. “I want to be rewarded with one ‘Truth’.” I let out a confused “Huh?”, and he naturally and eagerly blurted out his question. He spoke quite fast, seeming a little embarrassed. “So earlier… if someone else had asked the question, would you still have wanted to date them?” I felt like I could hear my own heartbeat drumming against my eardrums. Thank God the Uber arrived. Chloe ran over and pulled me into the car. The young master’s expression was incredibly strained. He even took a step with his long legs, as if trying to chase after us, but forced himself to stop. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lowered his eyes, and lit it, looking wild and untamed. So handsome it made my brain fuzzy. I rolled down the window. “No!” The car pulled away. In the play of light and shadow, Carter stood rooted to the spot, watching us. Even though all that remained was a tall silhouette and the glowing cherry of a cigarette, it was impossible to look away. The classic trope of the prodigal son turning his life around—no matter how cliché it is, when it actually happens in real life, who could possibly resist? A notification popped up on my phone. It was Carter: “Then think about me more.” 5 As soon as I walked out of class, I saw Carter’s text. He asked if I wanted to grab lunch. “I just got out of class. Where are you?” “Look up.” I saw the message, looked up in confusion, and saw Carter’s long legs dangling lazily as he sat on the second-floor windowsill, smiling down at me. He looked as charismatic as humanly possible. Actually, ever since that late-night food run, Carter and I had been in this incredibly ambiguous phase. But for a whole two weeks, we hadn’t seen each other once. Carter tugged at the collar of his black t-shirt and strolled leisurely toward me. In the five seconds it took him to walk over, some girl was already blushing and trying to hit on him. He leaned down to listen to her, looking natural and relaxed, even letting out a soft chuckle. I couldn’t ignore the sudden, inexplicable sourness in my chest. But then, the two people on the stairs suddenly looked toward me. Carter pointed a long finger right at me, and the girl blushed and ran off. I felt like this was the moment I should ask what he and that girl were talking about. But I suddenly remembered Chloe telling me to never fall for her brother’s tricks. So I just walked up to Carter with a smile: “What brings you to our campus?” He probably didn’t expect me not to care about what just happened. He paused, looked down at me with a deep, dark gaze, but didn’t say anything about it. “Came to your school for a guest lecture.” I took him to the dining hall, swiped my meal card for his lunch, and walked him to the campus gates. We chatted about random things the whole way, acting as perfectly normal as two awkward old classmates. “Are you free this weekend?” Carter asked, looking at the students passing by the gates, his gaze not stopping on me. Going out to play again? I’m a good student. “I have to present at a group seminar this weekend. It’s pretty important, so I probably won’t have time. Why?” “Nothing.” Carter nodded and walked away, looking quite cold. I felt inexplicably distracted during my afternoon classes. I didn’t even notice when the professor called on me. It was Chloe who shook me and whispered the answer. “Are you spacing out because of my brother?” Chloe’s expression was a mix of anger and betrayal, as if I had backstabbed her. My heart clenched, and I felt a sudden, inexplicable guilt. “How is that possible?” “Good. You better not fall for that jerk. He’s such an asshole! It’s his birthday this weekend. He’s throwing a huge party at his house, invited a ton of people, including Maya. I just asked him if he invited you, and he actually said, ‘Why would I invite her?’ I’m so pissed! What a player! No, we have to mess with him!” Chloe fired off a barrage of words. I first let out a sigh of relief, realizing she was just mad at her brother on my behalf. But then, my heart sank again. Pushing down the confusing feelings, I patted her slender hand. “Okay, what’s there to be mad about? I never liked your brother anyway, and I’m not one of the fish on his hook. Didn’t I promise I’d help you ruin things between him and Maya? Plus, your brother kinda mentioned it to me at noon.” He didn’t use his birthday as the reason, though. Maybe he didn’t care if I went or not. Chloe laughed, missing the nuance completely, and kept saying “True, true.” “But tonight I’m taking you shopping. I’m going to buy you a dress and bring you to his party this weekend. You’re going to slay! I want Maya to realize that a plain weed can never compete with a peony!” That night, Chloe and I went to the mall. She picked out a little black dress for me, and I picked up a bottle of cologne as a birthday gift for Carter while we were at it. On the weekend, Chloe actually drove her Ferrari to campus. It was insanely flashy. She called it “A beautiful car for a beautiful girl,” and insisted that from the moment I stepped out of the car at her house, I had to “kill it.” I happily slid into the passenger seat of the Ferrari. It was my first time in a sports car in my life. Aside from being envious, I was just thrilled. The car drove into a famous luxury community in Beverly Hills and parked in the courtyard of a massive two-story mansion. I always knew Chloe’s family had money, but I didn’t realize they had this much money. Her mansion wasn’t just some two or three-thousand-square-foot house. It was a sprawling, modern American estate. The first floor alone must have been eight thousand square feet, all glass. Never mind the landscaping outside—the infinity pool alone was enough to make your heart stop. There were lots of bikini-clad girls and shirtless guys playing in the pool. A crowd of hot girls and guys was gathered around the BBQ grill. Through the glass, I could see the living room couches were also packed with people playing games. It was the epitome of glitz and glamour. When Chloe and I stepped out of her Ferrari, a bunch of guys started whistling, and several girls cheered. Confetti popped in front of us, showering us in ribbons. The oncoming sunlight was warm. As I looked up, I saw Carter walking out of the glass house. The birthday boy was dressed incredibly casually today. He was shirtless. His skin was so pale it almost reflected the light. His seemingly lean frame was actually quite built. He had tight, solid forearms, slight definition in his biceps, and a lean six-pack that was sharp and aesthetically pleasing. The long lines of his waist disappeared into a pair of grey sweatpants. It was a body that made you thirsty just looking at it. I instinctively covered my mouth, terrified I was actually going to drool. Many girls were screaming over the birthday boy’s physique. One bold girl even yelled out, “Hey birthday boy, can I get a feel?” Carter picked up a champagne flute from a nearby table, filled it to the brim, and downed it in one go. The clear liquid slid down his prominent Adam’s apple to his sharp collarbone, and a rogue drop snuck down his abs, disappearing from sight. “Come on then.” Carter set the glass down and smiled. It was impossible to tell if he actually wanted her to or not. He had no shame. I felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of resentment. What am I thinking?! What does he have to do with me?! “Carter! Put some clothes on!” Chloe slammed the car door and screamed at her brother, who was being a total flirt. She marched toward him, furious. The birthday boy, who had been fielding flirty comments from all sides, finally found the time to glance at his sister. And in that single glance, his eyes locked with mine. His expression went completely blank for a moment, his thick eyelashes fluttering. Then he turned and walked away, looking a bit hurried, almost like he was running away. By the time Chloe reached the door, she was pulled away by people offering her drinks, losing her chance to “discipline” her shirtless brother. I didn’t understand why Carter ran away when he saw me, but I knew my mood was decidedly gloomy. I slowly walked over to Chloe, sat down, propped my chin on my hand, and zoned out. While I was zoning out, a lean, muscular waist appeared in my line of sight. Looking up, I saw Carter’s backlit face. “Didn’t you have a group seminar?” Carter handed me a plate of wet strawberries. “Just washed these for you.” I seemed to recall telling him previously that I really liked strawberries. I took the strawberries, slightly dazed, and realized the guy in front of me had changed his outfit. Although it was just a white t-shirt, grey pants, and sneakers—a very simple look—it somehow felt very put-together. Oh, he changed the grey pants. It wasn’t the incredibly draped sweatpants that showed off his “impressive” assets, but a very well-tailored pair of casual pants. His hair wasn’t messy like he just woke up, either. It was clearly styled. The Hayes family was so rich, of course they had maids. Whether he actually went to wash strawberries for me or just went to change his clothes, I didn’t want to call him out. I just knew my mood had suddenly brightened, sunny and cheerful. Carter wasn’t blind. He naturally felt my appraising gaze. He instinctively touched his straight nose, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. “Just woke up earlier. Hadn’t changed yet.” I handed the gift bag to Carter, not planning to give him a hard time anymore. “What did you get me?” Carter naturally began opening the gift box. At the same time, Maya appeared by Carter’s side out of nowhere. “Cologne? I don’t think Carter even wears cologne. Plus, when I was touring his house earlier, I saw all his colognes were custom-made from France. How could he possibly use this?” Maya talked about the hundred-dollar cologne as if it were some cheap knockoff. And she said it so calmly, like she was just discussing the weather, making it hard to get angry at her. Carter stopped what he was doing. He turned his head and shot Maya a look. He didn’t say anything, nor did he throw a fit, but he made the air feel inexplicably cold. He unwrapped the cologne. Using his height advantage, he sprayed it right over my head. I was confused, but then he suddenly bent down and gave me a polite yet ambiguous hug. We were both enveloped in the same scent. “Smells good. I like it.” Carter’s lips were right by my ear. I could feel his hot breath. But he wasn’t whispering. He spoke loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “I thought this scent suited you, so I bought it. Glad you like it.” I responded awkwardly. Carter pulled back and gave me a profoundly ambiguous look. “Really.” Did he have some sort of doubt about that? The guy didn’t say anything else. He straightened up and walked toward the BBQ grill. He nudged aside the guy who was grilling and was immediately surrounded by a flock of “butterflies,” taking over the grilling duties himself. I watched his lean back helplessly, realizing a problem. I was definitely falling for him. When he got close, my uncontrollable heartbeat couldn’t lie to me. Yet, I was also acutely aware that he would always dive headfirst into a crowd like this without a second thought. He could never give me the sense of security I needed. Forget it. My phone pinged with a text. It was actually Carter: “Do you think I’m a player?” What did he mean? I couldn’t figure it out immediately, so I replied with a question mark. “The cologne. It smells like something that attracts bees and butterflies.” “Is the young master misunderstanding himself? Don’t you attract bees and butterflies?” The young master replied with an ellipsis. I couldn’t tell if he was unhappy or not, so I looked up at his back, hoping to read his mood. Who knew this guy would suddenly turn around with a handful of skewers. Seeing me looking at him, he smiled openly, clearly in a great mood. He took a long stride, walked over, and handed me the skewers. “So are you a bee or a butterfly?” I looked down and took a bite of meat. His grilling skills were actually great. “Huh?” Carter suddenly reached out. Startled, I instinctively leaned back. He pinched my cheek and rubbed his thumb lightly against the side of my face. “You got it on your face.” It was enough to make anyone blush. Why was he so flirty? I suppressed the embarrassment of my racing heart, picked up a cup from the table, and took a big gulp. It was sweet, didn’t taste like alcohol, and was really good. “I’m not a bee or a butterfly. Can I be a little calico cat?” I probably choked the young master up with that one. He didn’t say anything. He just stared at my cup. I looked at the color of the bottles on the table, found the delicious drink, poured myself another cup, and was just about to drink it when the young master grabbed my wrist. His voice was actually very clear, but right now, it sounded like it was laced with alcohol—husky and seductive. “That’s mine.” “What do you mean, yours? Don’t be so stingy. It’s just a drink.” I said, taking another gulp. The young master pulled his hand back and laughed. “I’m not stingy. Drink as much as you want. But that’s champagne. It’s a lot stronger than beer. You can’t hold your liquor. Don’t go making a fool of yourself in front of me later.” There were a lot of people here. If I got drunk and acted stupid, it would be really embarrassing to let everyone see. I sluggishly put the cup back. Carter’s smile deepened. He satisfyingly picked up my cup, poured himself a glass, and took a slow sip. Was he crazy? That was the cup I just drank from. You can’t be this flirty, this is too much. “That’s mine.” I pointed at his cup, suppressing an inexplicable tremble. Carter raised an eyebrow and scolded me. “A bandit? I just let you borrow it, forgot? You said I was stingy, so I let you borrow it.” I didn’t need a mirror to know my face was bright red. So the glass originally belonged to him. No wonder he tried to stop me. “You’re blushing.” Carter’s voice was very close to me. I looked up and realized he was bending down looking at me. He pressed the cold wine glass against my cheek to cool it down. The ambiguity fermented like yeast, churning so much that I couldn’t find peace. Even my breathing was erratic.

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There was a moment at a friend’s party the other day that I can’t get out of my head. Our friends’ one-year-old suddenly burst into tears, a loud, heartbroken wail that sent all of us into a mild panic. While the rest of us fumbled around, my husband, Vincent, was an island of calm. He took the baby from his friend, his movements practiced and sure. He held the child close, patting his back gently while humming a lullaby I’d never heard before. To everyone’s astonishment, the crying subsided, and the baby quieted down. Our friends were floored, praising him for being a natural with kids. Vincent just smiled and waved it off. He even gently corrected our friend’s posture for holding the baby, adding a casual tip that infants this age are prone to gas and need to be burped thoroughly after feeding. On the drive home, I sat in the passenger seat, watching the city lights blur past. “When did you become a baby expert?” I finally asked, a teasing note in my voice. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be the die-hard child-free advocate, and even I don’t know all that.” His eyes stayed on the road, but his fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “You hear things,” he said lightly. “All the new dads at the office talk about this stuff nonstop. It’s hard not to pick it up.” He reached over and squeezed my cheek, a warm smile playing on his lips. “What, are you afraid they’re going to brainwash me? Make me go back on our DINK pact?” Then his expression turned serious, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, intense moment. “Don’t worry. We promised each other it would be just us, a world for two. And that’s all it will ever be.” 1 The day after the party, I was gathering Vincent’s suit jacket to send to the dry cleaners when something hard and small tumbled out of the pocket, clattering against the hardwood floor. It was a baby rattle. A bright red drum with a smiling doll painted on its face. It was brand new, the edges still sharp and un-scuffed. I picked it up, the smooth plastic cool against my palm. Vincent walked out of the bathroom, his hair still dripping. His eyes landed on the rattle in my hand, and for a split second, he froze. “Oh, that,” he said, his voice casual as he walked over and plucked it from my fingers. “It’s Mark’s kid’s. The little guy must have shoved it in my pocket when I was holding him yesterday. Guess I’ll have to get it back to him. What a pain.” His explanation was flawless. I just nodded. “Well, don’t forget to return it.” “I won’t.” He tossed the rattle onto the console table by the door, the one where we keep our keys and loose change. It was a spot you couldn’t miss on your way out. He’d thought of everything. But a strange, prickling discomfort settled in my chest, like the sting of a tiny, unseen needle. A few days later, I was reviewing our monthly credit card statement when a single charge jumped out at me. “The Baby Château Boutique. Total: $1,250.” The date was from last Wednesday. I remembered that day clearly. Vincent had told me he was visiting an important client. I brought it up that night. He was on the couch, watching the financial news, and didn’t even look up. “Oh, that was a massage chair for my mom. She’s been complaining about her back lately.” “You bought a massage chair at a baby store?” I asked. His eyes finally left the screen. He turned to me and smiled. “Don’t be silly. Those kinds of high-end places sell all sorts of things, wellness gadgets, stuff for seniors. It was just close to the client’s office, so I popped in.” He stood up and came around the couch, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “If you don’t believe me, we can ask Mom how she likes it when we see her tomorrow.” His warm breath tickled my ear. My entire body went rigid. In three years of marriage, he had never once used that placating, almost condescending tone with me. That night, I lay in bed, wide awake. Vincent was sound asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even. His phone, resting on the nightstand, suddenly lit up. It was on silent, the glow faint in the dark room. A message preview materialized on the screen. [Mrs. Gable (Building Super): The baby’s fever is back, 102. You need to come now.] It was followed by a crying emoji. My heart didn’t just sink. It plummeted into an icy abyss. The manager of our apartment building was a man in his fifties named Mr. Peterson. There was no Mrs. Gable. My hand moved on its own. I took Vincent’s thumb and pressed it to the sensor. His skin was warm. Mine was as cold as iron. The phone unlocked. I opened the chat with “Mrs. Gable.” There was no saved contact, only a profile picture: a selfie of a woman with long, dark hair and soft, gentle eyes. He hadn’t deleted the entire chat history. I scrolled up, and my world tilted. It was an endless stream of a baby. A newborn. A one-month-old. A baby smiling. A baby crawling. And under every single photo, a reply from Vincent. “Thank you for everything.” “Was he a good boy today?” “I’ll be there tomorrow.” Further up, there was a video. A woman’s voice, soft and sweet, cooing as she held an infant. “Come on, sweetie. Say ‘dada.’” The baby just gurgled, blowing spit bubbles. The background of the video was an unfamiliar apartment, but the floral pattern on the curtains… I recognized it. It was from a swatch Vincent had sent me on a business trip last year, telling me he loved the design. I’d laughed at him then, teasing him for having such frilly taste. It wasn’t for him. It was for her. 2 I backed out of the chat and clicked on her profile. Her name was Isabelle. Her social media presence painted the picture of a strong, optimistic single mother. [It’s hard, but seeing your smile makes it all worth it.] The caption was next to a photo of a sleeping infant. [Don’t you worry, baby. Mama will give you double the love.] That one was a picture of her holding the child at an indoor playground. But beneath the declarations of independence were a thousand tiny betrayals. A photo of her eating a meal at home, and next to her plate sat a coffee mug—a custom one I had given Vincent, engraved with his initials. A selfie of her holding the baby, and in the background, a man’s dress shirt was slung casually over the arm of the sofa. The cufflinks at the wrist were a mother-of-pearl set I knew he adored. Her latest post was from just three hours ago. [In the next life, I’ll choose you.] And right below it, a single comment. A “like” from Vincent. In that moment, I felt nothing. Not rage, not heartbreak. Just a vast, echoing void. Every beautiful dream I had for our future, every promise we’d made about our world for two, shattered into dust. I turned off the phone and placed it exactly where it had been. My hands were perfectly steady. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I opened my laptop. I searched for the best divorce attorney in the city and sent an inquiry email. Then, I started to compile a list of my personal assets. Savings, investments, property. My phone screen lit up with a text from an old college friend, Alex. [Hey, how have you been?] My mind was a chaotic storm. I didn’t reply. I am child-free by choice. My life plan has never, ever included children. When Vincent proposed, I made that crystal clear. He had taken my hands, his gaze unwavering and sincere. He told me he loved me, not my potential to be an incubator. He said it didn’t matter if we had kids or not. Having me was enough. I believed him. What an absolute joke. The next morning, the sun streamed into our bedroom. Vincent was already in the kitchen, just like any other day. The smell of toast and fried eggs drifted under the door. He came in carrying a breakfast tray, a perfect, husbandly smile on his face. “Morning, beautiful. I made you your favorite.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I could smell his familiar cologne, but underneath it, faint and cloying, was the unmistakable scent of baby formula. My stomach churned. I fought it down. “It smells amazing.” I sat up and smiled back at him. My reflection in the vanity mirror looked pale, but my smile was sweet. “Hurry and eat. Don’t you remember? We have a date to see that new movie today,” he said, handing me the tray. “I know. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” I took a small bite of toast. It tasted like ash. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching me, his eyes overflowing with a tenderness that made me want to vomit. “Slow down, you’ll choke.” Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and the smile on his face tightened for a fraction of a second. He took the phone and walked out onto the balcony, lowering his voice. “Hello?” “Didn’t I tell you I had plans today?” “…Fine, fine, I get it. Stop crying. I’m on my way.” He ended the call and walked back in, his face a mask of apology. “Aurora, I’m so sorry. Something urgent just came up at the office. I have to go in.” “The movie… can we reschedule? Please?” I looked at him. The panic in his eyes was so real, so convincing. “Of course,” I said, putting my fork down with a thoughtful smile. “Work comes first.” “You’re the best.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek one more time. 3 He changed his clothes in a hurry, grabbed his keys, and rushed out the door. The moment it clicked shut, the smile vanished from my face. I walked to the window and watched his car speed out of our complex. I knew he wasn’t going to the office. He was going to his other home. The one with his child, and the other woman who needed his comfort. A hot sting filled my eyes, but I forced the tears back. He wasn’t worth it. From the second he chose to lie to me, this man was no longer worth a single one of my tears. I didn’t cancel the movie tickets. I sat alone in the cavernous, empty theater and watched the romantic comedy we were supposed to see together. On screen, after a series of hilarious misunderstandings, the hero and heroine finally embraced in a perfect, happy ending. The theater was filled with the laughter and sniffles of other couples. I just sat there, my face blank, sipping my soda until the ice numbed my teeth. After the movie, I didn’t go home. I took a cab to the apartment complex I’d seen tagged in Isabelle’s social media posts. It was a new, upscale building with tight security. I couldn’t get in. As I hovered near the entrance, a familiar car pulled up to the gate. Vincent’s car. He parked and got out, pulling a mountain of things from the trunk. A stroller, cans of formula, and several expensive-looking gift bags. He was so preoccupied he didn’t even see me standing just a few yards away. A moment later, a woman ran out from the building and linked her arm through his. It was Isabelle. She looked exhausted, her eyes red and swollen as if she’d been crying for hours. Vincent soothed her, handing her the bags before taking a swaddled bundle from her arms. He looked down at the infant, and his face transformed with a look of such profound, genuine love and tenderness—a look I had never, ever seen on him before. He held the child, and together, he and Isabelle walked into the building I could never enter. They looked like any other loving, ordinary couple. I stood frozen, watching until their figures disappeared through the lobby doors. So, it wasn’t that he didn’t want children. He just didn’t want my children. Or maybe, he wanted it all: a docile woman to give him an heir, and a “perfect wife” to provide him with emotional support and a high-status lifestyle. He wanted everything. I took out my phone. I took a picture of his car. I took a picture of the building. Then, I made a call. It was to a senior I knew from college. He was now the editor-in-chief at a major media outlet. “Hey, Mark. I have a story for you. And I need a favor.” As I hung up, a car pulled up beside me. The window rolled down to reveal my mother-in-law’s face. Her expression was a mixture of shock and guilt. “Aurora, what are you doing here?” I looked at her and a slow, cruel smile spread across my face. “Oh, hi, Mom. I’m just here to see Vincent.” “He told me his… little brother lives here now, you know?” I gestured towards the gleaming apartment tower, my smile widening. “I just wanted to come by and see what he looks like.” The color drained from her face. She knew. She knew that I knew everything. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I didn’t give her a second glance. I turned and walked away, the sharp click of my heels on the pavement echoing in the quiet street. Every step felt like I was grinding my heel into the hollow, deceitful heart of their entire family.

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