On our ninth anniversary, Milo, who hadn’t contacted me for days, suddenly invited me to our special place. When I arrived, rose petals were falling from the sky, and 999 love letters – one for each day we’d been together – descended from above. I was moved to tears, but when I opened a letter, it read: “My dearest Josephine.” Just as I was about to ask Milo what was going on, I saw Josephine’s Instagram post. “When you’re with the right person, you shine! P.S. Sorry, old lady, but your man’s love can’t be stolen!” The photo showed a property deed for what was supposed to be my marital home. As I stood there in shock, Milo burst in and started berating me. “The kid just wanted a romantic gesture. Did you have to be so jealous?” Calmly, I threw the letters and the house key at him. “Well, congratulations on your new marriage.” Milo’s hand slipped, and the letters and key fell to the ground. The key made a clanging sound as it hit the floor, shattering into pieces and stabbing my heart. So, even the key was fake. A flicker of guilt crossed Milo’s eyes, but he quickly became self-righteous again. “How old are you now? Stealing things meant for a kid. Opal, you really disappoint me.” Kid? If I remember correctly, Josephine is two years older than me. Apparently, as long as you’re with the right person, even at an older age, you can be pampered like a child. I suddenly found it laughable and couldn’t be bothered with Milo anymore. I turned and walked out. All the way home, I kept thinking about our nine years together. We’d been dating since college, and while it wasn’t passionate, everything had fallen into place naturally, calm and happy. Our friends always told me to hold onto Milo tightly. Although he was a bit old-fashioned, he was faithful and showed his love through small gestures. I really believed that his lack of romance was just his personality. Only now did I realize it wasn’t that he didn’t understand romance; it was that I didn’t deserve it. I called to cancel all the wedding arrangements. Finally, I went to a café. I ordered a coffee and a slice of cake. As the sweet cream melted in my mouth, it reached my heart, but suddenly made my nose tingle and tears fall uncontrollably. This was my favorite cake. Just because Milo said I was as fat as a pig, I hadn’t eaten it for years. All these years, I’ve really deprived myself of so much. I had barely taken a bite when I received a call from Milo. “Did you use our shared account?” I was stunned for a moment, then opened my phone. I must have accidentally used his $58 when paying. Suddenly, I remembered that the $100 limit on the shared account was something I had begged for. Just to prove he loved me. “Sorry,” I said softly, then transferred the money back to him and quickly unlinked the shared account. There was a pause on the other end. “I’m not concerned about those few dollars,” he said. “I’m just teaching you that women should be independent and not rely on men. No man likes a woman who only thinks about depending on men.” I didn’t say anything. Feeling awkward, he changed the subject. “The hotel just called me. Did you cancel the wedding banquet?” “Yes,” I replied casually while eating my cake. “That’s good,” he said, his voice filled with rare joy. “Two people living together sincerely doesn’t need all these superficial things. I’m glad you understand that.” Hearing his words, I wasn’t surprised. I was just amazed at his shamelessness. Just as I was about to speak, I received another message from Josephine. Apparently, to make up for ruining her surprise, Milo had taken her for a wedding photoshoot. In the photos, they looked intimate and blissfully happy. It’s impressive that he even found time to call me about the shared account. I smirked mockingly. “Milo, I thought you understood what I meant. Since you don’t get it, let me spell it out for you.” “We’re over. Is that clear enough for you?”

Before he could respond, I hung up the phone. I enjoyed my afternoon tea at the café, a rare moment of leisure I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I thought I would be devastated, but in reality, I felt calm. I calmly accepted giving up this nine-year relationship. The moment I let go, I felt a long-lost sense of relief. The phone kept ringing. Milo, his parents, my dad, my stepmom… I didn’t answer any of them and turned off my phone. Now, the world was quiet. As night fell, I had just gotten home when Milo arrived. He was carrying a half-eaten steak. He walked straight up to me and held out the takeout box. “You said you wanted steak last time, so I brought you some.” The steak was Josephine’s leftovers. I had seen her Instagram post. It was from a high-end restaurant where a single visit costs at least $100,000. She wrote: “Can’t waste leftovers, feeding them to the mutt!” And I was that mutt. Various sauces were spread over the half-eaten steak, and the cold, rank smell made me nauseous. I couldn’t help but vomit. “Take it away!” Milo looked at me with displeasure, but when he saw that I was actually sick enough to throw up, he frowned and took the food away. “You’re just too picky.” “Opal, my money doesn’t grow on trees. After we’re married, you need to learn to be frugal, understand?” I rinsed my mouth and wiped it clean. “So I save, for you and Josephine to spend?” Milo’s expression turned ugly in an instant. Perhaps my coldness made him sense something unusual. He pursed his lips, then threw a gift box at me that he had been hiding behind his back. The box wasn’t sealed, and when it fell to the ground, a white veil peeked out. The veil had some unidentifiable stains on it. Disgusting. “The kid has good taste. She picked out a veil for you. Try it on. Consider it my gift to you, so you don’t have to pay.” As he spoke, he tried to put it on me, but I stepped back, my eyes welling up despite myself. Milo. He never saw me as a person at all. “Keep it for yourselves,” I said. I turned to go into the room to pack my things, but as I was about to enter, Milo grabbed my arm. His grip was very tight. I cried out in pain as the wound on my arm was squeezed, causing fresh blood to flow. This was a wound I had received half a month ago when I protected him during a fight he got into for Josephine’s sake. The other party had pulled out a knife, and I had taken the blow for him. It hurt a lot. But he had said: “Josephine’s in shock. You go to the hospital by yourself.” “I’ll pay half of your medical expenses.” For once, a hint of guilt appeared in Milo’s eyes, but before he could say anything, he received a call from Josephine. After he hurriedly left, I immediately got a message from Josephine. “Just one word about not being able to sleep, and my darling comes running to tuck me in!” I replied coldly. “He’s all yours. A perfect match made in hell.”

After packing my bags, I called my best friend. “Opal, happy birthday! Did you get the gift I sent you?” Amber’s excited voice came through. Hearing her words, I couldn’t help but feel a lump in my throat, and tears started rolling down my cheeks. Today was my birthday. I had almost forgotten myself. “What’s wrong, Opal?” Amber heard me sniffling and became worried. “I’m just very touched. Thank you, Amber,” I said softly. “I want to come see you as soon as possible. Can you arrange the paperwork quickly? I’ve pretty much finished the handover here, and I don’t need to be here in person.” Amber’s company had gradually shifted its focus overseas. Half a month ago, I had agreed to work abroad with her. I had been trying to find a chance to tell Milo, but since getting injured, I hadn’t been able to reach him. And this morning at our special place. I had wavered. Maybe I shouldn’t leave. He does love me after all. Only now did I realize how unclear my thinking had been at that time. Amber paused for a moment, but she didn’t question me. “I’ll have someone prepare it now.” After hanging up, I called workers to remove all the decorations I had put up. Ironically, Milo had always said that we split everything 50-50. But between the lines, he was always implying that I was taking advantage of him. In reality, most of the things were bought by me. I was busy until 2 AM. After sending off the workers, I received a call from my friend. The flight was set for three days later. Looking at the empty room, I let out a deep sigh of relief, but suddenly received a call from Milo. “Josephine’s stomach doesn’t feel well. Your warm soup is pretty good. Make some and bring it over.” “Don’t overthink it. I just see her as a kid. Spending more time with her isn’t bad, right? Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a child as beautiful as her in the future?” “I don’t mind if you have one with her,” I said. After I finished speaking, Milo was silent for a long time. He seemed to want to scold me, but considering Josephine, he finally held back. “Stop joking around. If I really had a child with her, who knows how much you’d cry.” Milo’s tone was helpless: “I like you better when you’re kind-hearted, Opal.” The call ended, and Milo seemed certain I would go. But I didn’t go. Instead, I had a good night’s sleep. Early the next morning, I went out and returned to my hometown. I bought my mom’s favorite lilies and placed them on her tombstone. “Mom,” I gently caressed her photo. I didn’t want to cry, but seeing Mom, I couldn’t help but shed tears. “I probably won’t be coming back for a while.” “Maybe I won’t come back at all.” I choked up and said, “Please forgive me, Mom.” As soon as I finished speaking, I felt a sharp pain on my scalp. The next moment, I was violently pulled up and thrown to the ground. It was my stepmother. “Slap!” She gave me a hard slap across the face. “Don’t play games with me, you bitch! I’ve already taken Milo’s bride price. If I have to return it, I’ll kill you!” I covered my face and stood up. Then I viciously grabbed my stepmother’s hair, but just as I was about to pull, my dad gave me a slap too. “You ungrateful dog!” “Listen to your mother. She’s doing this for your own good.” Looking at the ferocious expressions of my dad and stepmom, in a daze, I suddenly saw Milo. He was standing right in front of me. Watching my pain, he just smirked. I heard what he said. He said, “Opal, no one will want you except me.” He was laughing at me, with no way out.

I stared at Milo. “What’s with that look?” he seemed annoyed. “Opal, you’re almost thirty, and still so immature.” “Do you know what your stepmom told me?” “She said if you don’t marry me, she’ll marry you off to your stepbrother. Have you forgotten how desperate you felt when your dad just stood by and watched as he tried to force himself on you?” “Opal, remember, it’s not that I’m begging to marry you. You’re the one desperate to marry me.” After he finished speaking, he smirked. Seeing the mockery in his eyes, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I once told him he was my hero. Descending from the heavens. Making me fall head over heels for so long. But one day, my hero came riding on a rainbow cloud. But he wasn’t here to save me. He was here to join others in bullying me. It’s truly, truly laughable. But he forgot one thing. Before I met him, I had once wielded a weapon and cracked open the skull of a villain. Just then, a phone rang. Josephine’s voice came through, “Honey, you promised to bring her over to apologize to me. I’ve got everyone gathered.” “You can’t let my friends laugh at me, or I’ll be angry and ignore you! Hmph!” Milo quickly lowered the volume and said a few words before hanging up. Then he turned to me. “The kid cares about face.” “You made her stomach hurt all day yesterday. It’s just an apology, Opal. Don’t make things difficult for me.” So, coming to find me was all about saving face for Josephine. I knew my place in his heart, but nine years still made it hurt out of habit. He dragged me into the car. I didn’t even have a chance to refuse before he brought me to the gathering. When we reached the private room, everyone looked at my disheveled state. “Didn’t big sis Opal put on makeup? Did she specially slap herself for blush?” Josephine said. After she finished speaking, the whole room burst into laughter. Milo held me tightly, and since I couldn’t break free, I simply sat down on the sofa obediently. Then I glanced coldly at Josephine, “I’m twenty-eight this year, but you’re thirty.” “Auntie Josephine, your wrinkles could trap flies. Stop pretending to be young. It’s fine to fool others, but don’t fool yourself.” Josephine’s face changed dramatically, and tears immediately fell. She shook Milo’s arm. “Look at her! Honey, is this what you call apologizing to me? Isn’t she just deliberately embarrassing me?” “Opal, apologize!” Milo looked at me coldly. I didn’t want to come in the first place. He forced me to come, and now this situation is his own doing. I didn’t say anything. Milo glared at me, then quickly and carefully comforted Josephine. “Sweetie, your tears are melting my heart. Don’t cry those precious pearls, okay? It’s my fault, my fault. You can punish me however you want.” “Really?” Josephine sniffled and choked out: “Didn’t you say Opal’s hair was too much, always falling on the ground and bothering you? Then as punishment, help me shave her bald.”

The time my stepbrother tried to take advantage of me, I made a big scene. My stepmother’s image of a kind mother in front of others crumbled. She angrily accused me of seducing her son, so she had my dad tie me up like an animal and cut my hair with scissors. She even shaved off my eyebrows. If it weren’t for my screams attracting the neighbors, she might have even carved words on my face. After that, whenever a single hair fell on the ground at home, I would suffer physical punishment. I was a tomboy for many years. And was despised by countless people because of it. I told Milo about my pain, but what I got wasn’t sympathy. He treated it as a joke to amuse Josephine. For nine years, I thought Milo would hesitate. But when he realized doing this would make Josephine happy, he immediately had someone bring scissors. I instinctively walked to the door, but as soon as I got there, I was blocked by his friends. “What are you trying to do?” I asked. “Opal, you upset the kid, so you should be punished,” Milo said as he walked towards me. “Hair will grow back, but making the kid happy is priceless.” As he spoke, he had people hold me down. I struggled frantically. Josephine excitedly walked over. Seeing her smug look, I became furious. In my struggle, my fingernail accidentally scratched Josephine. It didn’t even break her skin. But the next moment, Milo kicked me hard in the stomach, slamming me against the door. It hurt. My stomach cramped painfully, and I felt wet between my legs. I knelt on the ground. It felt like something was about to flow out of my abdomen. At that moment, I realized something and tightly grabbed Milo’s hand. I wanted to beg him to save my child. But Milo couldn’t see my pain. He was only concerned with holding Josephine’s hand and cutting my hair. The scissors stabbed into my scalp. I trembled in pain as blood flowed down my scalp and onto my face. Just then, someone exclaimed. “Blood! There’s blood!” Milo didn’t care at all. “Just accidentally nicked the scalp a bit. We’ll bandage it later and it’ll be fine.” “No, no, Milo, there’s a lot of blood. There’s a lot of blood on the ground…” The panicked voice brought Milo back to reality. He stood up and looked down at me condescendingly, until he saw the blood all over the floor. Only then did he panic. “Li-Opal…” I looked up at him. Tears and blood covered my face. “Congratulations, Milo.” “You killed your own child with your own hands.”

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The night before the wedding, Charlie suddenly became very busy. He couldn’t even make it to the venue decoration as we had planned. Feeling guilty, he called to comfort me. “There’s a heavy thunderstorm in NewYork. Stay at home and don’t go out, okay?” “Don’t worry about the decorations. Just focus on being a beautiful bride.” I couldn’t rest easy, so I went to check myself. That’s when I saw Charlie. In a huge helicopter parked on the lawn, there was a woman in a flight attendant uniform kneeling between his legs. “Respected sir, are you satisfied with my service?” she purred. Charlie smirked and pulled her into his arms. But that was my wedding venue. The helicopter was the dream Charlie had promised me. … The rain in NewYork came suddenly and violently. With thunder and lightning, I returned home looking like a drowned rat, pale-faced. My whole body felt hot. Dizzy and groggy, I crawled up to take a fever reducer, wrapped myself in a blanket, and dialed a number. “Hello, I’ve changed my mind.” “I want to join your Atlantic Airways. Yes, as soon as possible.” After hanging up, the scene I had just witnessed kept flashing in my mind uncontrollably. I sneezed hard. I never thought I’d leave because of Charlie, when I had stayed for him in the first place. As the medicine took effect, I closed my eyes. Soon after, I was awakened by Charlie’s call. The man’s voice on the other end was low and gentle, just like always. “Rachel, I’ve been so busy. Did you eat lunch properly?” I coughed a couple of times. Charlie immediately became concerned, “What’s wrong? Why are you coughing? Did you not wear enough clothes or…” His concern came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly alert, he asked, “Rachel, did you go out?” “Mm-hmm.” I replied weakly, “I went downstairs to buy breakfast. Didn’t expect the rain to be so heavy.” He breathed a sigh of relief on the other end. “Didn’t I tell you not to go out in the heavy rain? If you wanted to eat something, I could have had it delivered to the villa.” “The wedding is in a few days. If you get sick and can’t get up, where am I going to find such a beautiful bride?” I didn’t answer. My mind was filled with images of the helicopter on the wedding lawn, and the woman in the flight attendant uniform. If I were too sick to get up, wouldn’t Charlie have a better choice? “Rachel?” Seeing my silence, Charlie tentatively spoke up. But his words were cut off by someone’s lips, blocking his false comforts in his throat. The sound of heavy breathing stopped. He growled low, threatening the person with a mix of reproach and indulgence. “Rachel, the rain was too heavy. I got drenched when someone bumped into me.” “Be careful, don’t drive too fast.” “It’s fine.” Charlie’s tone became cheerful, “Just thinking about being able to come back and be with you after these meetings makes me want to drive at 70 mph!” “Gotta go now, I need to drive.” The call ended abruptly, with only half of the usual kisses and hugs. A moment later, Charlie sent a message. “Rachel, the wedding company just called me. They said there’s a problem with the helicopter we ordered, and it needs to be sent back to the factory for repairs… How about we change it to a big flower ball?” Does it need repairs because of a problem… I recalled that eye-catching scene. Or was it soaked with sweat during their romp and can no longer be used? Actually, renting a helicopter for the wedding venue was too extravagant. It was Charlie who insisted. At 24, in my first year as a flight attendant, I encountered an unreasonable passenger. He poured a full cup of boiling water on the back of my hand. I still had to crouch down and clean up the cabin. At that time, it was when Charlie’s startup was struggling the most. I couldn’t afford to rest, having to fly even with bandages on. Busy and rushed, that scar remained there forever. Charlie held me tightly, his heart aching. He swore, “When I make big money in the future, I’ll definitely take you on a helicopter ride.” “No passengers, and you won’t need to serve anyone. It will be a romance just for us.” But he didn’t keep his promise. He gave our exclusive romance to someone else. Everything after that was just his conscience trying to make up for it. I don’t want it anymore. A confused cat emoji came through the chat box. I lowered my eyelids and typed “okay” on the keyboard.

When Charlie sent someone to deliver food, I was in a deep sleep and didn’t hear the doorbell. By the time I woke up, the food outside the door had already gone cold. I opened the packaging. It was all the light flavors I loved. We even had a microwave at home to reheat food. But I only felt nauseous. I put the food in the fridge and called my best friend, Kiera, to let her know I was leaving. She angrily ranted about Charlie for fifteen minutes. “Are you stupid? Now that he’s successful, you’re just going to leave quietly and let him off the hook?” “If you ask me, you should go through with this wedding!” “Slowly collect evidence of his cheating, then file for divorce and take half of his assets!” “You’ve been with him for ten years. Are those ten years of your youth worth nothing?” Yes, ten years. I had been with Charlie for ten years. I watched him go from a nobody startup founder to falling and getting back up, through ups and downs, until he finally established his own brand. The toughest times were during the pandemic years. His company, which had just started to take off, was on the verge of bankruptcy. Most of my flights were grounded. We had to give up the spacious apartment we were renting and move back to a cramped basement. At that time, it was really difficult. So difficult that we had to compete with sewer rats for rice to eat. Charlie had to pay off the debts he owed for goods on time, otherwise it would affect his credit score. He was forced to do manual labor. I begged my superiors to let me fly, taking on any flight no matter how dirty, smelly, or difficult. That’s how we finally got through that period. I’ll never forget the day we paid off our debts. Charlie locked the basement door, dragging a suitcase with one hand and holding mine with the other. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Rachel, thank you for getting through this with me!” “I, Charlie, swear to heaven!” He raised his finger, “I will definitely make something of myself and marry my girl in grand style!” At that time, the young man’s sincerity was transparent. But after walking in the torrent for too long, it was washed away until the color was no longer clear. Actually, Kiera is wrong. From an outsider’s perspective, I must fight for something to do justice to these ten years. But if I say I don’t hate Charlie, probably no one would believe me. Maybe I hated him when I stumbled upon that erotic scene in the helicopter. Afterwards, all that was left was deep exhaustion. I just want to leave. Get away from him, away from this place that holds ten years of our memories, leave everything behind and start over. “I don’t want to make things too ugly with him.” I lowered my head. Call me weak or cowardly if you want. I don’t want to tear away the fig leaf between Charlie and me, destroying the most beautiful memories of our ten years. Because that was my youth too. No matter how rotten the person in my youth has become, he was still the man I once loved deeply. “You…” Kiera sighed, “So when do you plan to leave?” I flipped through my email. The offer from Atlantic Airways had arrived. “Two days.” In two days, I’ll be leaving this place. … At 10 p.m., Charlie still hadn’t come back. Ever since Charlie’s career took off, we’ve been on different schedules. Sometimes when I flew red-eye flights, he’d already be gone by the time I got back. Since then, I’ve asked the company not to schedule me for night flights, hoping to have our private time together when I return home at night. I got used to waiting. But this time, I don’t want to wait anymore. Just as I turned off the lights to go to sleep, Charlie called. The sound of running water came through from the other end, especially jarring in the dead of night. “Rachel, don’t wait up for me.” “I originally booked a flight to get back tonight, but as soon as I landed, I got dragged into a meeting.” “The people below know I’m about to take my honeymoon leave, so they’re taking this time to hold all the meetings for next quarter while they have me…” “Don’t be angry. After our wedding is over, I promise I’ll make it up to you with a proper honeymoon.” I wanted to ask him, what flight could fly from the rooftop garden of the Empire State Building to here? What kind of meeting requires the participants to wash up in a hotel room first? But I didn’t say it out loud. “Work is important. Take care of yourself too.” He was about to reply when the water sound on the other end stopped. Someone was walking barefoot on the wooden floor. The sound of clothes rustling arose. I could almost hear someone breathing into Charlie’s ear. There was a dull “thud”. Charlie’s phone hit the ground, and the sound of lips and teeth intertwining came through the speaker. Perhaps he was too eager. So eager that he didn’t even hang up the phone. I masochistically listened to the whole thing, until the woman’s coquettish gasps arose. “Charlie, are you really going to get married?” she asked. Charlie must have lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke. “What else can I do?” He chuckled lightly, “She’s been with me for ten years. I have to give her a title at least, so people don’t say I’m ungrateful.” “Such a generous old man…” The woman sneered, “Haven’t you ever wondered if she, as a flight attendant all these years… if she’s been with other men…” Charlie didn’t speak again. The woman hadn’t realized anything yet and continued chattering, “I heard she’s flown to India many times… I’ve heard those flights are not clean…” “Also, in her line of work, I don’t believe there are no sugar daddies… Didn’t you say she helped you through the economic crisis for a few years…” “Enough!” Charlie shouted angrily, “Don’t talk about things you shouldn’t know! I know very well what kind of person Rachel is. It’s not your place to comment!” I hung up the phone. My whole body was shaking uncontrollably. I knew very well that Charlie had taken it to heart. He’s usually emotionally stable and wouldn’t get angry unless he had doubts. I recalled those most difficult years. To help Charlie pay off his debts, I did indeed fly many trips to India. The memories are heart-wrenching. The dirty and chaotic environment goes without saying. The scariest part was the scrutinizing gazes of the passengers, like wolves eyeing their prey. After each flight, there would be many black handprints on my bottom. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Once, I was tricked by a passenger in the back row who pressed the call button. He grabbed me and dragged me into the bathroom to assault me. Fortunately, a colleague heard my cries for help passing by and rescued me. On the way home that day, I cried for a long time, but wiped away my tears before reaching the front door. I didn’t want Charlie to know. I also didn’t want him to feel guilty or worried. So I didn’t say anything, not even mentioning the times people offered to be my sugar daddy. Yes, people wanted to be my sugar daddy, more than once. There were also quite a few business elites who expressed interest in dating me. But I turned them all down, one by one. Because I knew very clearly, Charlie only had me. And I only had him. I believed every word he said, every vow he made. I believed he would have his day. But now, I’ve waited for it. Yet I no longer want it.

The next day, I got up early, planning to tidy up the house and pack the large luggage that needed to be shipped. I didn’t expect Charlie to suddenly come home. The photo of us at 27 crashed to the ground. I hurriedly bent down to pick it up, but cut my finger on the glass, blood covering my hand. Seeing this, Charlie immediately ran over to stop the bleeding. His face full of distress, he said, “If you’re not feeling well, just lie down obediently. Let the housekeeper clean up the house.” As he spoke, he angrily kicked the photo frame away. I was stunned, staring at the shattered glass on the floor as tears fell. That was… our engagement photo… When Charlie earned his first bucket of gold, he excitedly bought me a little white dress. And a small 0.5 carat diamond ring. He took me to take a set of engagement photos. He also said he wanted to treat me to a rotating buffet at the rooftop garden restaurant of the Empire State Building. “Wouldn’t that cost thousands?” I felt a bit pained. Charlie put his arm around my shoulders and waved his hand grandly, “I earn the money, you spend it. Isn’t that the natural order of things?” I shook my head, pretending to be angry, “I hate eating things like sashimi. It upsets my stomach.” “How about… you treat me to a bowl of rice noodles with double fried eggs instead… Save the rest of the money… When I want to eat there someday, you can take me then…” Charlie rubbed my forehead and said, “Okay.” But after that, we never ate rice noodles again. The wedding he promised me was delayed for seven years. Seven years had passed already. Seeing me cry, Charlie became a bit flustered, asking if my hand hurt. I shook my head, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “Don’t cry, Rachel.” He gently wiped my tears, “We still have to go try on wedding dresses today. If your eyes are swollen from crying, you won’t look good in the dress…” I was stunned. “Didn’t we already choose a wedding dress?” Charlie’s eyes flashed with guilt for a moment, “We did choose one… but the store just called me… They said a more luxurious, more expensive handmade wedding dress just came in…” “I want to give you the best.” His gaze was fervent. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was true or false. But Charlie, I never wanted a more luxurious or expensive wedding. None of this compares to the little white dress you gave me on our engagement day. But I didn’t resist, obediently following Charlie to the bridal shop. As soon as we entered, the staff recognized him. They only glanced at me before awkwardly averting their gaze. I had a rough idea of what was going on. Following Charlie’s instructions, the store manager took me to the luxury section to choose a wedding dress. Passing by the warehouse, I saw two staff members moving a wedding dress inside. It was the one I had chosen before. I smiled, not exposing anything. After trying on a few, Charlie wasn’t very satisfied, until I came out wearing a pure white satin strapless wedding dress. Charlie’s lowered head suddenly lifted. He stared at me, speechless for a long time. At that moment, I saw many emotions in his eyes. Amazement, reminiscence, surprise, doubt, disgust, and impatience. Finally, he frowned. “Who told you to pick such a pure white fitted wedding dress for her!” My heart sank. Did he think I had tainted the pure and innocent Rachel in his heart? Or was he convinced that I had used my body to earn money to help him through the economic crisis? “I said! I want the most luxurious, the most sparkly, the most elaborate wedding dress! Don’t try to fob me off with this kind of thing!” The disgust in Charlie’s eyes hurt me. I didn’t wait for the staff to bring a new wedding dress. I turned and went back into the fitting room, leaning my back against the wall, my eyes stinging. Soon after, I heard Charlie talking to someone through the curtain. “Why are you calling me… You know I’m with her trying on wedding dresses…” “If you hadn’t secretly run to the bridal shop and used my black card to buy the one she had ordered, would I need to come again?” “Seeing her in pure white… I can’t help but think of what you said…” “Forget it, as long as I have you with me in the future, it’s enough if she can just stay at home properly.” All the way until Charlie sent me home. Those words he said kept lingering in my mind, refusing to go away. When I came to my senses, I realized he had left again at some point. I opened the wardrobe and started packing my luggage. The white dress Charlie gave me when I was 27 was still hanging there. I pulled it out and wrapped it up. I stuffed it into a huge bag, planning to have someone come pick it up for recycling later. I cleared out the few boxes from the attic storage room. They contained many things we had moved over when we relocated. There were several photo albums. All filled with memories of Charlie and me. I pulled them out one by one, throwing them into a fire pit to burn to ashes. The empty albums, along with the boxes, were pushed outside the door waiting to be recycled. Finally, I found a notebook. It was piled together with the photo albums, its pages yellowed and covered in dust. Opening it, I saw Charlie’s handwriting densely filling the pages. It was the account book he had used to keep track of his business since he started. How much he borrowed, how much he repaid, how much he spent, how much he earned – all recorded clearly. In my memory, Charlie always carried it with him wherever he went, never letting it out of his sight. I don’t know how it ended up stuffed in an old cardboard box, placed together with our memories. I picked at the imprints on it. They were stains from years of accumulated bread crumbs and vegetable soup, perhaps mixed with Charlie’s tears when he felt life was hopeless. Every page was filled with amounts. “June 10, 2018, owe Mr. Zhao $20,000, to be repaid within one year.” “October 31, 2018, owe Mr. Hu $10,000, to be repaid within one year.” “December 31, 2018, year-end summary, owe Rachel a wedding, to be fulfilled in a lifetime.” I was stunned. Flipping through page by page, my name would appear once every year that passed. On the last page of the notebook, Charlie had written a line in big red letters. “Charlie, don’t forget to marry your girl.” “Remind yourself once every year, hoping that one day you can fulfill your promise!” I didn’t know how to react. I could only smile weakly, hesitating before stuffing the notebook into a compartment of my suitcase. Then I dragged my suitcase, preparing to fly my last flight before leaving. Flying to Denver. After landing, I would transfer to a flight to Canada to directly start my job at Atlantic Airways. I just didn’t expect to encounter Charlie on the flight.

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I rushed to the hospital with homemade chicken noodle soup after my boyfriend fell ill, only to overhear his conversation with a friend: “Now that the one that got away is back, it’s time for the stand-in of three years to exit the stage, right?” “After you break up with her, let me have a go. I’ve never been with a girl like that before.” There was no expected rebuttal. Arlo’s tone was indifferent. “Sure, she’s pretty easy anyway. Just sweet talk her a bit and you can get her into bed.” That night, I discovered his secret Instagram account. It documented years of pining for his first love. Without confrontation or entanglement, I calmly booked a flight to Paris. On our third anniversary, Arlo slipped and fell at work, spraining his ankle. I rushed to the hospital after getting his call. He explained he was hurrying to the restaurant, afraid I’d wait too long, and accidentally fell. I took a few days off work to stay by his bedside and take care of him. On the day he was discharged, some friends came to visit. I went home to make chicken noodle soup, feeling reassured. The thermos in my arms held freshly made soup as I hurried back to the hospital, timing it perfectly. The door to the room was ajar. As I approached, I overheard voices inside. Arlo’s good friend Milo was patting his shoulder, his expression amused. “You didn’t have to be so excited just because Sage’s back. Rushing to pick her up from the airport and falling down the stairs?” Hearing the name “Sage”, my heart skipped a beat. She was part of Arlo’s close-knit group of friends from college – three guys and one girl. Sage was Arlo’s college girlfriend. They dated for two years before breaking up when she went abroad. Even so, everyone in their group still considered them a perfect match. I’d occasionally hear the other two guys tease Arlo about it. In their eyes, if Sage hadn’t left, there’s no way I would have ended up with Arlo. He used to always refute those comments. But this time, perhaps because I wasn’t around, Arlo remained silent. Milo was still grinning: “Now that the one that got away is back, when are you going to dump the stand-in?” “After you break up, can I go after her? I’ve never been with a girl like that.” Arlo finally looked up at this, frowning as he smacked Milo’s arm. “Sage hasn’t said anything yet. What’s the rush?” “Besides, I’m not fully recovered. I still need her to take care of me at home.” My ears were ringing. After the initial shock came a numb daze. Milo didn’t seem to care much. He casually peeled an orange I had bought. “She looks so innocent, but you always tell me how wild she is in bed.” “I’m really curious about that contrast.” I stood there clutching the warm thermos, in the warm hospital room, yet felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. I never imagined my boyfriend of three years would disparage me like this behind my back. Arlo’s voice came through the door, cold and devoid of any warmth: “If you want to pursue her, go ahead. She’s desperate for love anyway, easy to get.” “I just had to sweet talk her a bit back then, and I got her into bed.” My breath caught, a knife twisting in my chest. I heard the two of them chuckling softly in the room, and suddenly felt nauseous. I covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom, retching a few times as tears streamed down my face. So the man I’d loved deeply for three years only saw me as a replacement for the one that got away. I thought he just didn’t love me as much, but I never imagined he despised me to this extent behind my back. He not only didn’t love me, but didn’t even see me as a person. To him, I seemed no different than trash on the street. As the illusion shattered, I could hardly believe the man I wanted to spend my life with could be so despicable at his core. Looking back, Arlo’s friends always felt free to joke about him and other women right in front of me. Who knows how they talked about me behind my back. When his friends came over, they always treated me like a maid. And his friends disrespecting me was essentially done with his permission and encouragement. He only put on an act of being upright in front of me. I wiped away my tears and threw the chicken noodle soup I’d spent two hours making into the trash. The thought of breaking up had never been so clear as in this moment. When I walked into the hospital room, I had mostly steadied my emotions. Arlo frowned when he saw me return empty-handed, clearly displeased: “Didn’t you say you were going home to make soup for me? Why did you come back empty-handed?” Milo chimed in. “Yeah Zinnia, Arlo was just telling me how thoughtful you are.” Milo had a look of anticipation as he added meaningfully: “Zinnia, you might not have many chances left to make soup for Arlo.” I instinctively looked at Arlo, but saw he had no intention of stopping Milo. I guess now that Sage was back, he wanted to dump me right away. Arlo wasn’t even bothering to pretend anymore, or maybe he wanted to “punish” me a bit for my “disobedience”. I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Arlo. This was the man I had loved deeply for three years. I used to think that even if Arlo didn’t love me enough, my love for him would be sufficient. Or maybe one day he would be moved by my devotion? But everything was mocking how naive I had been. “It didn’t turn out well today. I drank it all myself.” I smiled, picking up the lightest bag as I hurried out of the room. “Let’s pack up and go home.” I no longer wanted to lug all the luggage like a servant, as I had always done before. The atmosphere was cold on the way home. Arlo was still angry with me. But I had no intention of appeasing him. I needed time to soothe my own emotions too. As soon as we got home, Arlo’s other friend Ryan showed up. He was carrying a cat in his arms, grinning as he barged in. I’ve had severe cat allergies since childhood. Startled, I covered my nose and backed away. “Arlo, didn’t you tell them I’m allergic to cats?!” I frowned, staring intently at the ragdoll cat in Ryan’s arms, not daring to let my guard down for a moment. When I was little, I accidentally hugged a neighbor’s cat and ended up in the hospital for a whole week. “Zinnia, why are you so delicate?” Before Arlo could speak, Ryan rolled his eyes at me. “This is Sage’s ragdoll cat. It’s super expensive, imported from abroad. I begged her for days to let me bring it over to play with.” “Zinnia Wilson, don’t be so inconsiderate.” Arlo had been unhappy with my attitude, feeling he’d lost face in front of his friend. Now he finally found an outlet for his frustration. His expression was icy. “It’s just a cat, it’s not going to kill you, is it?” He no longer hid his disdain for me, even trying to shove the cat Ryan was holding into my arms. “I’m going to break you of this habit. What’s the big deal about a cat?” Arlo knew full well how severe my allergic reactions could be, but at this moment he didn’t care about me at all. I kept dodging as Arlo kept advancing. The ragdoll cat, its neck pinched painfully by Arlo, let out a sharp cry and lunged at me out of control. Even though I reacted immediately, the cat’s claws still left a mark on my neck, and I inhaled a mouthful of cat fur. Half a minute later, I started having difficulty breathing, my heart racing, and breaking out in a cold sweat. “Quick… call an ambulance.” Arlo scoffed: “Zinnia Wilson, stop pretending.” It was Ryan who noticed my face growing increasingly pale and spoke up. “Arlo, Zinnia doesn’t look like she’s faking. We should call 911 quickly!” In the moment of hesitation, I collapsed heavily to the ground. Before losing consciousness, I saw Arlo’s panicked expression as he, Ryan and Milo scrambled to call an ambulance. When I woke up, I was alone in a dark hospital room. Because of their so-called prank, I had nearly gone into shock and been rushed to the hospital. And now there wasn’t a single person by my side. A nurse came in and turned on the lights, helping me change my IV drip. “Your cat allergy symptoms are extremely severe. You absolutely must avoid contact with cats in the future.” I smiled bitterly and asked: “Nurse, may I ask when the people who brought me in left?” “You mean those three men?” The nurse frowned. “They left once they knew your life wasn’t in danger.” Her expression was one of disbelief: “Weren’t they just strangers who happened to help?” I forced a smile: “One of them is my boyfriend.” “Though not for much longer.” I opened my phone to see a message from Arlo. “We went out for dinner. If you’re fine, just go home on your own.” Milo had posted on Instagram 20 minutes ago. “So happy to reunite with old friends!” The photo showed the four of them, with Arlo gazing lovingly at the girl beside him. He and Sage seemed to be looking at each other adoringly, their eyes full of undisguised affection. Looking at this photo, I finally couldn’t hold back my tears, my chest aching to the point of suffocation. At this point, I had no reason left to deceive myself. The person Arlo truly liked was Sage. To him, if Sage was willing to come back to him, I would lose all value. I suddenly remembered that Arlo would often type on Instagram, but I had never seen him post anything. A possibility arose in my mind, and I searched for clues in his social media accounts. Arlo’s Instagram was empty, but I found an account called “Remembering Her” in his following list. With trembling hands, I clicked on it and found that the IP matched. This user had been updating continuously for six years, with hundreds of dense posts. It was like I had accidentally opened Pandora’s box. The contents inside left me speechless. It was all about Sage, every word and line filled with suppressed love and obsession. The account started as a record of their romance, and later became Arlo’s endless pining for Sage. “November 9, 2021: I’m with someone else now. I won’t wait for you anymore.” That was the day I don’t know how many times I had actively confessed to him, and Arlo finally agreed to be with me. It turns out it wasn’t because he was moved by me, but because Sage had left the country that day. “March 10, 2022: I slept with someone else. It’s your fault for dating other people.” I remember Arlo was drunk that night, clinging to me and not letting me leave. In the end, he sweet-talked me into sleeping with him. “May 16, 2023: Are you really not coming back? I hate you. I’ll never forgive you!” That year, Arlo held me tight and took out a diamond ring from his pocket to put on my finger. He looked at me tenderly and promised: “Zinnia, I will marry you.” I took a deep breath, not having the courage to read on. I scrolled directly to the most recent update, which was from not long ago: “I’ve lost to you again. After all these years, I still can’t let go. I will always love only you.” The accompanying photo was of the two of them together. They were holding hands tightly, smiles of happiness on their faces. Tears fell uncontrollably, dripping onto my phone screen and blurring my vision. The deception and betrayal cut me to the core, leaving my heart bleeding. It turns out that throughout our three years together, not a moment of Arlo’s love belonged to me. Young love burns hot and true, persisting for many years. Arlo was willing to overcome all obstacles, just to have Sage again. Even though she had left him for so many years, abandoned him, he still gladly offered up his heart. But what about me? My whole body shook as realization dawned. No wonder Arlo never argued with me – he simply didn’t care. No wonder Arlo never cared about my state – I just wasn’t important to him. No wonder he got so excited he fell down the stairs and broke his leg – it wasn’t because he was rushing to see me, but because Sage’s sudden return had thrown his heart into chaos. I barely steadied my thoughts and took screenshots of everything, preserving the evidence. This is for the best. At least I won’t soften my resolve now. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard him talking about me like that behind my back today, if I hadn’t found his secret Instagram account, I might have been kept in the dark my whole life, mistakenly thinking he had truly given up on the one that got away. I’ve now seen through Arlo’s cultured facade to his filthy inner self, and learned that all those intimate moments of love were just an illusion. Now there’s no reason left to continue this relationship. At that moment, my boss called. I took a deep breath, trying not to let anything show in my voice. “Zinnia, there’s an opportunity to work at our Paris branch office. I wanted to ask if you’d be interested.” “You’d start directly as a director. It’s quite a rare opportunity.” My boss tried to persuade me. Actually, this wasn’t the first time a promotion opportunity had landed on me. Last time, because I wanted to settle down with Arlo, I righteously refused the chance to go to France, even though it had been a dream I once cherished. But now, there was no reason left worth giving up my dreams for. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’d be happy to work in Paris.” The determination to break up had never been so strong. My brain was urgently sending signals of self-preservation. Even if my heart was being cut to pieces, I was willing to endure this pain. After hanging up, I immediately booked a flight to Paris for a few days later. After being discharged, I went straight home to pack all my belongings. During this time, I didn’t run into Arlo. He was probably still busy accompanying Sage. The next day, sitting in the taxi to the airport, I saw Arlo’s secret Instagram account had updated last night: “Meeting again, emotions beyond control.” The photo showed him and Sage holding hands. I calmly scrolled past, but my heart still ached dully. Arlo suddenly texted me, probably having noticed the changes at home. “You were discharged yesterday? Where are you?” I didn’t respond. He called countless times, all of which I hung up on. Until one minute before boarding the plane, an unknown number called. I answered, hearing Arlo’s anxious voice: “Zinnia Wilson, where did you go? When did you come home?” I laughed silently, calmly replying. “Arlo, I know Sage is back.” “She’s the one you truly love, right?” I smirked self-mockingly, mercilessly exposing his scheme. “Now that the one that got away is back, it’s natural for the stand-in to exit the stage.” The boarding announcement came at just the right moment. I heard Arlo gritting his teeth as he demanded: “Zinnia Wilson, where exactly are you?”

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At the company’s celebration banquet, bonuses were being distributed. My wife and father-in-law publicly called me useless, saying I was a failure who only dragged everyone down. Violet They even forcibly gave my nearly completed Dubai royal family project to her first love. I didn’t get angry, but laughed instead, directly handing over my CEO position to him as well. “Staring at these damn drones all day is exhausting. I’ll just let you be CEO!” Everyone in the company thought I had gone mad with anger. But what they didn’t know was that the core algorithm for drone swarm control was in my hands. Without me, their golden goose drone fleet would turn into a swarm of man-eating locusts. The company would face a billion-dollar liability from the Dubai royal family, going bankrupt overnight! “Adam, your contributions to Thompson Robotics have been invaluable. This year’s bonus is all yours,” Violet said sweetly, handing Quentin a $5 million check. The applause was deafening. Mr. Thompson nodded approvingly while my colleagues crowded around them, cheering. “With Quentin overseeing operations, our company will soon be a global leader!” “Mrs. Thompson and the board really have an eye for talent. She and Quentin make such a great team, even better than most married couples!” I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching this joyous scene with a crumpled technical proposal in my hand. Today was supposed to be the company’s annual bonus distribution party. But just as I arrived at the conference hall, Violet received a phone call. She said there was a malfunction in the drone system that required my immediate attention at the test flight base. After years of marriage, I naturally trusted her without question. Before I could even grab a bite to eat, I rushed to the base. Under the scorching heat of nearly 104°F, I led the team in troubleshooting for an entire day. But when I saw Violet give all the bonuses to Quentin, an intern who had been here for less than a month, everything became clear. The system malfunction was just an excuse to get me out of the way. She just wanted to hand over the fruits of my three years of hard work to her unforgotten first love. Quentin seemed to notice me casually, feigning surprise: “Oh, Mr. Brown, you’re finally here?” “We thought you had other business and couldn’t make it, so we started early. You don’t mind, do you?” His words were polite, but his eyes were full of mockery. He even deliberately waved the check in front of me. Violet glanced at me impatiently: “Adam, what’s with that expression? Did you expect the board and everyone else to wait just for you?” “No wonder you dragged your feet on bidding for that project before. You’re useless, always holding everyone back.” “Since you’re here, you might as well hand over the Dubai project directly to Quentin. Save us from any more of your slip-ups.” Hearing her high-handed commands, I clenched my fists, feeling utterly disappointed. The Dubai project she mentioned was a big contract I had spent three years preparing and bidding for, practically my life’s work. The Dubai prince had been generous, giving a $5 million deposit upfront. But to ensure the stability of ten thousand drones operating simultaneously in the desert environment, I had pulled countless all-nighters. I had traveled back and forth to Dubai countless times, jet-lagged and suffering from stomach bleeds several times. Just as the project was in its final stages, Violet casually decided to take away my achievements and hand them to her first love with a few careless words. I couldn’t help but laugh at my own dedication. Ten years ago, Thompson Robotics was on the brink of bankruptcy, unable even to pay workers’ wages. When Violet took over, she was determined to transform the company, saying she wanted to get into drones. I didn’t hesitate to quit my job at a big tech firm, investing all my savings to start from scratch with her. But with her background in fashion design, she couldn’t even understand basic control codes, let alone develop drones. Over the years, I had been the sole support for the company’s core technology. Every algorithm patent was my invention. All technical problems had to be solved by me personally. During the early stages when funds were tight, Mr. Thompson refused to help because he looked down on me. It was my parents who sold our old family house and their hard-earned savings for my wedding to keep the company afloat. Only after that did my marriage to Violet get put on the agenda. My father-in-law, Mr. Thompson, had always looked down on my background. He thought letting me marry into their family was already a great favor. Every time we met, he would make snide remarks about how I relied on his daughter, and that a son-in-law should know his place. At the time, I didn’t care because I loved Violet too much. I loved her enough to sacrifice everything for her. But I never imagined that after Quentin accompanied Violet on just a few overseas business trips, he could effortlessly take credit for all my hard work. I had been married to Violet for ten years. In the end, I still couldn’t compare to her first love who had once abandoned her. Today, she had finally worn away the last shred of affection between us. After a long silence, I spoke calmly: “Fine, do as you please.” Quentin couldn’t hide his smug smile, still pretending to be modest: “Mr. Brown, I’m just an amateur in this field. How could I dare to take over such an international billion-dollar project from you?” “I heard you’ve been working on it for almost three years without success. I just wanted to lend a hand.” Violet gently put her hand on his shoulder: “Quentin, you’re an Ivy League graduate. If you can’t handle it, no one in the company can!” Mr. Thompson chimed in authoritatively: “Exactly. Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re far better than that good-for-nothing son-in-law.” I almost laughed out loud. Quentin’s degree was just an empty shell. During his interview, he couldn’t even grasp basic control theory. The Thompsons were just obsessed with propping him up, paying him an exorbitant salary. After comforting Quentin, Violet turned to mock me: “Adam, if it weren’t for me, could you have reached your current position?” “You’ve had it too good for too long. You don’t even know your own limitations anymore, do you?” “I ask you to hand over a project and you’re being petty about it. If it weren’t for Quentin putting in a good word for you, Dad and I would have fired you long ago!” I laughed coldly to myself. Violet seemed to have completely forgotten that when the company couldn’t even handle basic drone models, I was the one solving every technical problem. Not only did I contribute patents, but I also trained the technical team from scratch. Now that the Thompsons had made it big, they not only turned their backs on me but also saw me as a burden. They kept rambling on, as if I had become the Thompson family’s greatest shame. I took a deep breath and walked towards Quentin under Violet’s contemptuous gaze. Everyone’s eyes darted between us, thinking this spineless son-in-law was finally going to explode. But I just smiled calmly. I took out a CEO transfer document from my bag and threw it at Quentin’s feet. “Staring at a few thousand drones all day is exhausting. I’ll just let you be CEO!” For a moment, everyone in the hall stared at me with wide eyes, unable to believe what they had just heard. The executives of Thompson Robotics whispered among themselves, all thinking I must have gone mad from the pressure. After all, everyone in the company knew that it was my ten years of selfless dedication that had brought us to where we were today. “Mr. Brown, you’re the second-in-command of our company. It’s just one project, don’t ruin your career over a moment of anger!” Hearing this, Violet seemed to think I was trying to blackmail her. She immediately flew into a rage: “Adam, have you lost your mind?” “I criticize you a little and you dare to throw a tantrum? You’ve really crossed the line!” “Let me remind you, you’re just a figurehead CEO. I’m the real controller of this company!” I laughed inwardly. She should be happy that I was handing over the CEO position. Isn’t letting her precious first love rise to the top exactly what Violet had always dreamed of? Quentin clutched the CEO transfer document tightly, his eyes flashing with greed. But he put on an act of selflessness: “Mr. Brown, are you just saying this because you’re angry about giving up the CEO position?” “Please don’t misunderstand. Violet just wanted me to give you a hand to speed things up. It’s all for the good of Thompson Robotics.” “Besides, how could I dare to replace you? You’re a company veteran. The CEO position belongs to no one but you.” “Everyone knows how much you’ve devoted to the company over the years. The CEO role is rightfully yours.” As he spoke, Quentin made a show of trying to return the document to me. But his hand pressed firmly on the paper, as if afraid I might really take it back. Seeing his act, I smiled faintly: “What’s there to be angry about?” “You’re the Ivy League graduate. With fresh blood in the company, I couldn’t be happier.” “You as CEO? I couldn’t be more relieved.” Violet looked at me suspiciously, then snorted coldly: “Quentin, since he’s voluntarily stepping down, just accept it.” “With your abilities, the CEO position would be yours sooner or later anyway. There’s nothing unsuitable about it.” “Everyone’s here to witness it.” As soon as she finished speaking, Quentin stopped pretending to refuse. He hugged the transfer document tightly, his eyes almost overflowing with greed. Seeing his behavior, I laughed coldly to myself. Violet was always making eyes at Quentin, completely unaware of how technically challenging the Dubai project really was. I had researched for a whole year before finally breaking through the swarm control algorithm for the desert environment. But they didn’t know that this core program was still in my encrypted hard drive, not yet handed over. Even if they tried to steal it, without even the basic annotations, it would take them half a year just to crack it. Without me, how could they complete the aerial performance with tens of thousands of drones? Their golden goose drone fleet would turn into a swarm of man-eating locusts! Moreover, Quentin probably didn’t know that the CEO position wasn’t so easy to sit in. Controlling core technology also meant bearing all responsibilities. For this Dubai project, we had already received a $5 million deposit. If the performance failed, not only would we have to refund in full, but we’d also face the wrath of the royal family. Not to mention how fierce the competition is in this industry. One misstep and the company would be completely crushed by rivals. Since they already saw me as useless, I naturally had no obligation to kindly remind them. When the project fails, it will be the day the Thompson family falls into ruin. Seeing how readily I gave up my position, Violet seemed to feel a bit guilty. She coughed awkwardly, then said arrogantly: “Alright, Adam, you don’t need to stand here anymore.” “Since the program needs to be handed over anyway, and we’re having a celebration for Quentin tonight, seeing as you’re being so sensible, why don’t you come along?” Her condescending tone almost made me laugh out loud. If the Dubai project succeeded, the profit share would be at least tens of millions of dollars. Yet they excluded me from the bonus distribution, and now they want to appease me with just a dinner. What a brilliant calculation! The thought of having to dine at the same table as a scoundrel like Quentin made me nauseous. I was about to refuse when Quentin chimed in with false modesty: “Oh dear, when I booked the private room earlier, Mr. Brown wasn’t around. I completely forgot to save a seat for you.” “It’s all my fault for not considering thoroughly. Although I twisted my ankle earlier today, I should still take responsibility.” “You sit first, Mr. Brown. I’ll go outside to grab a chair and some drinks in a bit.” I knew he was deliberately playing weak, trying to score points with the Thompsons. Sure enough, as soon as Violet heard he was injured, she immediately stopped him with concern, helping him to a chair. “Quentin, you’ve done more than enough for the company.” “Such a big project is relying on you. How can we let you run errands like this?” As she spoke, she glared at me with disgust: “What are you standing there for? No sense of propriety at all. What a waste of all these years in the company.” “Either go buy drinks or don’t come at all!” Seeing her blatant double standards, I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. Violet had always taken me for granted. In the past, I would work overtime day and night at the company, but was never included in team dinners. As if I was begging for a meal. Quentin pushed his luck further, smiling and saying: “Mr. Brown, I’m really sorry to trouble you like this.” “I’ll definitely toast to you later…” Before he could finish, I laughed coldly and kicked over the leather executive chair he was sitting on. In the next instant, Quentin hurriedly tried to dodge, but tripped over the chair. He hit his head on the million-dollar holographic projection equipment, the sound of shattering glass piercing the air. I watched as he struggled to get up, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his forehead, and couldn’t help but sneer: “What’s this? Has the Ivy League graduate’s ankle injury miraculously healed?” “Not bad reflexes. Were you a tap dancer in a past life?” Violet stood frozen, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. She quickly rushed to support Quentin, then turned to yell at me: “Adam, have you gone fucking insane?” “What if Quentin’s head is injured? What about the Dubai project?” “I finally understand what’s going on with you today.” “You’re just jealous that Quentin is more capable than you, deliberately trying to sabotage this project, aren’t you?” I scoffed, my face full of disdain: “Me? Jealous of an idiot?” “And…” “I’ve already resigned. Don’t put on airs in front of me anymore. This young master won’t play along!” Violet trembled with anger, her eyes reddening as she was about to say something more. I turned and strode out of the conference room without looking back. Leaving the noise and Mr. Thompson’s angry shouts fading behind me. I packed up my things in the office, my gaze falling on a velvet gift box on the desk, lost in thought for a moment. It was a custom-made bracelet I had ordered from abroad in advance. Originally intended as an anniversary gift for Violet. Now it just seemed ridiculous. Looking at the bracelet, I couldn’t help but recall the past. In college, I had always seen Violet as a goddess. I knew that with my humble background, I wasn’t worthy of her, the rich heiress. I could only silently protect her, running errands, buying her meals, and helping with her homework. She naturally took me for granted as her backup plan. That day when I found her discarded silver bracelet and wanted to return it. She threw it into a gutter and directly promoted me from backup to boyfriend. My classmates all said it was because her first love had dumped her, and she was just taking revenge. But I refused to believe it, treating her even better, believing that one day she would be moved by my sincerity. I was like a loyal puppy, revolving around her 24/7. Finding new ways to give her gifts, unchanged even after ten years of marriage. Our wedding anniversary was always marked in my planner. Even though Violet never remembered or celebrated it. I knew she had always been lukewarm towards me. But I always believed that she loved me. Perhaps that was just her way of expressing love. So I willingly accepted being a figurehead CEO at the company and a son-in-law in the Thompson family. I thought our life would always be this blissfully happy. But I underestimated the weight of first love in her heart. It wasn’t until I saw her attitude towards Quentin and her undisguised affection that I realized. Perhaps from the very beginning, Quentin had always lived in Violet’s heart. I was just a dispensable substitute. Just as I was about to throw away the gift, Violet and the others happened to return. “Well, well, Adam. Weren’t you quite capable just now?” “Can’t a grown man be less petty? Using such underhanded methods against me?” At the door, Violet was arm in arm with Quentin, with several executives following behind. Huh, these two cheaters were really brazen. Quentin gently tugged at Violet’s sleeve, pretending to be considerate: “Violet, Mr. Brown must want to apologize to you.” “Look at the bracelet in his hand. He probably prepared it specially to beg for your forgiveness!” Violet was stunned for a moment, then sneered: “Huh, you think buying a cheap bracelet can win me over?” “If it weren’t for Quentin stopping me, I would have called security long ago…” As she spoke, she reached out to take the bracelet from my hand. I frowned and quickly threw the bracelet into the trash can. “You’re sick. Even wanting garbage.” “You should get treatment for your habit of wishful thinking.”

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I sat at the table, watching the food grow cold, much like my heart. Today was my birthday, but it was also the birthday of Remy, Xena’s childhood friend. I opened Remy’s Instagram and saw a new post. “Grateful to have you by my side every birthday. Let’s keep celebrating together for years to come!” The photo showed two hands making a heart shape in front of a cake. One of them was Xena’s, wearing the necklace I had given her. I liked the post, then put down my phone and dumped all of Xena’s favorite dishes I had prepared into the trash. I went out to a restaurant to order my own favorites and celebrate my birthday alone. From now on, I would make each of my birthdays special – for myself. Halfway through my meal, Xena called. Her voice held a hint of anxiety: “Ezra, did you see Remy’s Instagram post?” “I did.” “I’ll be back after celebrating with him. I’ll spend next year’s birthday with you, okay? Don’t be upset!” In the past, I would have thrown a fit, but not anymore. I simply replied, “Okay.” The next morning, around 7 AM, I was woken up by my phone ringing. It rang three times before cutting off. I checked – it was Xena. She used to be too lazy to use her key, so she’d always call me to let her in, ringing three times before hanging up. No matter what I was doing, I would rush to open the door for her. Today, I didn’t. I tossed my phone aside and went back to sleep. The spare key was under the shoe rack by the door. She knew that. I had been up until 3 AM packing, and my head was still fuzzy. My phone rang a few more times, but I couldn’t be bothered to look. Some time later, I vaguely heard someone unlocking the door and coming in. The door slammed against the wall loudly, followed by my bedroom door being flung open and Xena’s angry voice. “Ezra, why didn’t you open the door for me? I called several times! You know I hate using keys!” I opened my eyes and looked at her impassively. “Too tired. Didn’t hear it.” Xena opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I’m hungry. Get up and make me a sandwich. I didn’t sleep all night, and I need to catch up on some rest after I eat.” In the past, I would have jumped up to make her breakfast. But now, I just said flatly, “I’m tired too. Why don’t you go downstairs and buy something?” Xena was furious but tried to control herself. “Are you still mad about me not being here for your birthday yesterday?” “No, you’re overthinking it.” Xena didn’t believe me. She continued, “Remy is like a brother to me. His parents passed away when he was young. If I don’t celebrate his birthday with him, who will? Don’t be so petty, or I’ll really get angry!” “You’re right. You should celebrate with him. I’m not upset.” I got up to go to the bathroom. Xena grabbed my hand and reluctantly pulled out a red string bracelet from her pocket. “Here, don’t be mad. This is your birthday gift. See? I remembered.” Looking at the cheap red string with its dangling metal charm, which seemed so carelessly chosen, and thinking of the expensive watch Remy had shown off on Instagram, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. I had thought Xena’s recent frugality was to save up for my birthday gift. Apparently, I had been deluding myself. I shook my wrist, showing the watch my mom had sent me a few days ago. “Thanks, but I already have a watch. It’s not convenient to wear this. You keep it.” Xena snapped, “You say you’re not angry, but you used to be happy with whatever I gave you. Are you getting picky now?” Xena’s salary wasn’t high. Her birthday gifts to me were always cheap, costing a few dollars or tens of dollars at most. Sometimes she even forgot to give me anything. But I never minded. For her birthdays, I always prepared thoughtful gifts. Just a week ago, for her birthday, I had given her a gold necklace. I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I took the red string and put it in my pocket. “Thank you.” I changed my clothes and opened the door. Xena called out anxiously, “Where are you going?” “To play basketball with friends.” Since getting together with Xena, all my free time belonged to her. I accompanied her everywhere, took care of her, and had no time left for myself. That wouldn’t be the case anymore. I needed to live for myself now.

After an exhilarating game with my friends, we sat on the benches by the court, drinking water. My friends joked, “We thought you’d forgotten about us since you got a girlfriend. We were about to stop inviting you out.” I apologized and promised, “I’m sorry, guys. It won’t happen again. Count me in for any future plans.” “That’s more like it! Come on, let’s go to the internet cafe and play some games.” When I was with Xena, I couldn’t fit into her Instagram world, but I had slowly distanced myself from my own friends for her sake. I revolved my life around her, prioritizing her above all else. Looking back, I realized how foolish I had been. When I got home, it was almost midnight. I opened the bedroom door to find Xena sitting on the bed. She frowned and said, “Ezra, why are you back so late? I had to order takeout for lunch and dinner. It was awful.” I opened the closet to get some clean clothes. “I ate at restaurants today too. The food was pretty good, not worse than home-cooked meals.” Xena stared at me in surprise. “You used to say you’d cook for me every day and that I shouldn’t eat takeout because it’s unhygienic!” “I was wrong. Living in this society, if you can’t cook, you have to get used to takeout food.” A flash of anger crossed Xena’s eyes. “You say you’re not angry, but you’ve been out all day without a single call or message, and you didn’t come home to cook for me!” I replied calmly, “I’m not angry. I was just hanging out with friends. My phone died, so I couldn’t call.” Seeing my attitude, Xena suddenly threw off the covers and got out of bed angrily. She grabbed me as I was about to leave, her voice shrill. “Can’t you be more understanding? I’ve told you we’re just like siblings! What are you still upset about? Ezra, my patience has limits!” I shook off her hand. “I’m really not upset. I’m tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” With that, I took my clothes and went to the bathroom to shower, ignoring Xena’s calls from inside the bedroom. That night, I slept soundly for the first time in a long while. Xena was a restless sleeper, kicking off the covers several times a night. When we slept together, I never got a full night’s rest, having to get up multiple times to cover her. Early the next morning, Xena sat in the living room with her arms crossed, her face dark with anger. I knew she was waiting for me to apologize first and make her happy. In the past, whenever she was unhappy, I would beg for her forgiveness, even if I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. Then she would list a bunch of conditions, and only after I had fulfilled them all would she reluctantly forgive me. This had been the pattern for years, and I was tired of it. I ignored her, got ready, and left. I had important things to do today.

I went to the office to submit my resignation letter. My manager was surprised and tried to persuade me to stay, but I insisted on leaving. I had originally taken this job to be close to Xena, to take care of her. But now, that was no longer necessary. Last night, I had a video call with my parents, telling them I was planning to quit my job and return home. I saw the tears of joy in my mom’s eyes. My dad’s health hasn’t been good lately, and he’s been struggling to run the small supermarket by himself. When I say “home,” it’s not some remote village, but a coastal city. Xena had always refused to go back with me, saying she wasn’t used to the food there. So I left my parents to find work here with her. That evening, I met up with my friends for dinner and told them the news. They all agreed that going back was the right decision, as my parents’ health was more important. After a few drinks, someone suddenly asked, “What about Xena? Is she willing to go back with you now?” I was silent for a moment, then smiled bitterly. “No, we’ll probably break up.” I used to think I could build a home here with Xena, and then bring my parents over later. But now that home was gone, and I was returning to the one with my parents – the one that would never abandon me. When I got back home, I saw Xena wearing a white dress, her black hair flowing loose, face perfectly made up, video chatting with Remy on her phone. Remy’s voice came through the speaker: “Snow, you look absolutely gorgeous. Even in a simple white dress, you look like a fairy!” Xena giggled, covering her face coyly. “Really? You’re still such a sweet talker.” I stood there silently. This “simple” white dress had cost me a month’s salary when I bought it for her. Xena turned around, still smiling, but her face fell when she saw me. She quickly told Remy, “I have to go now. I’ll be there soon. Have a snack while you wait.” Xena could be all smiles and care for Remy, but she couldn’t even spare a smile for me. She looked at me with disgust, then walked past me to put on her shoes and leave. She was starting her cold treatment again. In the years we’ve been together, she often gave me the silent treatment over issues related to Remy. Each time, I would be anxious, trying everything to please her. This time, I wasn’t nervous. I just took the groceries I had bought and went to the kitchen to make myself a late-night snack. I had been drinking with my friends earlier and hadn’t eaten much, so I was a bit hungry now. Over the next few days, I was busy handing over my work and packing my belongings. My things in the house were gradually disappearing, but Xena didn’t notice.

Today, Xena went out again to meet Remy. I sat at the dining table, scrolling through my phone while eating. Remy had posted on Instagram: “Whenever I feel lonely, you’re always there for me. I’m so grateful!” The photo showed Xena and Remy with their heads together, making peace signs at the camera. Xena’s girlfriends were all commenting, admiring their relationship. They had always thought Xena should be with Remy, and that I was the third wheel interfering in their relationship. Looking at that Instagram post, I suddenly felt that Xena’s friends weren’t wrong – they did look more like a couple. In the past, after enduring silently for a long time, I would gently remind Xena to keep some distance from Remy to avoid misunderstandings. Her friends would then mock me for being too controlling, saying I was suffocating Xena and not giving her any freedom to have friends. Xena never defended me. Instead, she joined them in criticizing me, telling me not to restrict her and to give her more freedom. Xena had commented: “You’re always there for me too!” I exited Instagram without a ripple in my heart and got up to clear the table. Thunder rumbled outside. It was about to rain. I went to the balcony to bring in the laundry, and large raindrops began hitting the windows. In the past, whenever it rained, I would anxiously call Xena to ask where she was and rush out with an umbrella to pick her up, afraid she might get even slightly wet. She and her friends would then laugh at me for being like an old woman, worrying too much and ruining their fun. I showered early and lay in bed scrolling through short videos, eventually falling asleep without realizing it. The sound of Xena forcefully pushing open my bedroom door woke me up. Seeing that I was sleeping, she angrily questioned me. “Ezra, it’s pouring outside, and your girlfriend isn’t home yet. Aren’t you worried at all? If it were my friends’ boyfriends, they’d be calling non-stop asking where they are and rushing out with umbrellas to pick them up! What about you?!”

I was surprised, not understanding why she was so angry. Once before, when it was raining and she was with Remy, I had called a few times to ask where she was and when she’d be back, offering to pick her up. She had been furious, saying I was worrying unnecessarily, that she was with Remy and he would send her home. She had also accused me of not being able to stand her being with Remy, using the rain as an excuse to make her come home quickly, saying my controlling behavior was suffocating her. Now that I was giving her the freedom she wanted and not worrying, she was questioning why I wasn’t going to pick her up. I really didn’t understand what she wanted. I replied calmly, “You’re with Remy, so I have nothing to worry about. You can stay out longer if you want, he’ll naturally send you home.” Xena stared at me with wide eyes in disbelief, perhaps wondering how I could speak so calmly about Remy and allow them to stay out late together. A moment later, she seemed to think of something and started explaining, “Today is the anniversary of Remy’s mother’s death. He’s very upset, and as his friend, I couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Don’t misunderstand.” I nodded in understanding. “I get it. You should keep him company on days like this.” My reasonableness seemed to leave Xena at a loss for words. She looked at my face intently, trying to find even a hint of anger, but found none. Xena softened her voice, “Ezra, I bought a new nightgown. It’s black lace. Want to see if it suits me?” I looked at her in surprise. This was tantamount to her actively seeking reconciliation. In the past, she always maintained a high and mighty attitude, only reluctantly making up with me after I had begged countless times. I pretended not to understand her implication and simply said, “No need. If you like it, that’s fine. You should go back to your room and sleep now.” Xena looked at me in disbelief, then stormed off in embarrassment and anger. I got up to close the door myself, then went back to bed. I slept well that night. The next morning, my friend Mike called to invite me to dinner. He had just returned from a business trip and, hearing that I was going back home, wanted to meet up one last time, saying such opportunities would be rare in the future. I felt a pang in my heart as I listened, and agreed. Before hanging up, he added, “Oh, bring Xena along too. I won’t call her separately.” Right, Mike wasn’t just my friend, but Xena’s friend too. He had introduced us initially. But this meant I couldn’t keep my return home a secret anymore. I hadn’t finished dealing with everything and didn’t want any complications. After hanging up, I saw Xena coming out. I hesitated for a moment, then looked up and said to her, “Mike wants to invite us to dinner tonight.” She looked at me hesitantly, about to speak when her phone rang. I don’t know what the person on the other end said, but Xena responded soothingly, “Remy, don’t worry. It won’t be lost. I’ll come over right away to help you look.” Xena hung up the phone and hurriedly walked towards the door, changing her shoes swiftly while telling me, “Ezra, Remy has an emergency and needs my help. You go to dinner by yourself tonight. I won’t be going. Let Mike know for me.” That evening, at a local barbecue place, just as Mike and I clinked our beer glasses, Xena walked in with Remy beside her. When our eyes met, Xena looked surprised and embarrassed. Remy, next to her, gave me a challenging smile.

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In college, I dumped the most popular heiress on campus. Three years later, my apartment flooded in the middle of the night. I went to crash at my buddy’s place, but accidentally crawled into her bed instead. She smirked coldly: “What, trying to rekindle our old flame?” I panicked and tried to leave, but she grabbed me. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just show up and leave like that.” In my dream, I was holding a soft, warm body. Just as I was about to really enjoy myself, a sharp pain in my ear jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to find myself staring into those mesmerizing almond-shaped eyes I’d been dreaming about. The owner of those eyes was speaking: “Beckett, it’s been so long and this is how you choose to see me again? What, trying to rekindle our old flame?” Terrified, I quickly freed my ear from her grasp and jumped out of the bed, my face flushing red and pale in turns. Lark. My ex-girlfriend. How did I end up in bed with her?! Her long hair was loose, and she was wearing only a sheer nightgown that left little to the imagination. I stuttered, “W-what are you doing here?” “I could ask you the same thing!” she retorted. At this point, I was so embarrassed I just wanted to run away. But she grabbed me before I could escape. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just show up and leave like that.” How could I have possibly guessed that after my apartment flooded, I’d sneak into my buddy’s place in the middle of the night only to end up in my ex-girlfriend’s bed? The commotion woke up the owner of the house. Gideon came over in his pajamas, his voice preceding him: “Cousin, what’s all the noise about?” When he saw me, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What the hell? What are you doing here?” I gave a bitter smile. “My apartment flooded. I had nowhere else to go but your place.” My buddy pulled me aside and winked at me suggestively. “She’s my cousin. Did you two sleep together?” I was so embarrassed I wanted to crawl into a hole. She was the last person I ever wanted to see again. This girl I had once cared for with all my heart – we just weren’t meant to be.

Back in college, she was the untouchable ice queen of our school. I fell for her at first sight when I saw her at a club meeting. Everyone said she was a wealthy heiress with impossibly high standards. Then one day, she sprained her ankle in the locker room. She limped out, her face pale with pain and covered in cold sweat. I happened to be passing by and immediately carried her to the infirmary on my back. After that, we became friends. I discovered that although she seemed cold on the surface, she was actually quite warm and friendly in private. She was also quite forgetful and always losing things. She would often message me asking for help buying this or fetching that. She said I was the most attentive man in the world, remembering all her likes and dislikes and providing the best emotional support. She teased that I must have a girlfriend to be so experienced. I laughed and said no, she was my first. Her eyes sparkled as she quietly took my hand. The more I got to know her, I realized she wasn’t called the campus goddess just for her beauty. She was also the cream of the crop among the wealthy elite. They had their own exclusive social circle that partied together. It was a completely different world from mine. But she told me she hated the fakeness and pretension of that circle. She said I was the most real. That made me happy. I introduced her to down-to-earth experiences of ordinary life. When I earned some money from helping my professor with research, I would treat her to a big meal. Sometimes she offered to pay, but I refused. I told her, “Paying is a man’s job.” I might not be able to give her a better life, but I would do my best with what I had. During that time, we were as close as could be. It was just an ordinary relationship, unable to withstand even a bit of wind and rain.

One day, a guy named Kieran from another department approached me. “I’m her fiancé. Please stay away from Lark.” I was shocked. “Lark never told me she had a fiancé.” “Our parents arranged it long ago. You can’t possibly be her boyfriend.” “What can you offer her besides dragging her down?” I didn’t believe him and argued back. He arched an eyebrow haughtily. “Let me show you her real life.” He had me disguise myself and took me to a fancy mansion. There I saw her with perfect makeup and an elegant updo, wearing a designer evening gown. She moved gracefully through the party, charming and poised. As the hostess, she worked the room effortlessly, completely in her element. Indeed, she and I seemed to be from different worlds. “See, she’s like a queen on high. And you? You’re just an ant on the ground. She doesn’t need some guy to take her to street food stalls. She needs someone who can build an empire with her.” I looked down at my sneakers and jeans, so out of place in this setting. I argued stubbornly, “But she likes me just the way I am.” Kieran laughed. “There are plenty more like you. Want proof? Check her phone contacts.” “She has her contacts sorted into groups. Our circle is in one group, while you and others like you are in a separate group.” The next day when I met Lark, I checked her phone while she was in the bathroom. Sure enough, my contact was saved under a code name and number. There were 7-8 others with similar names, all grouped together. When she came back, I asked her directly. “Do you find being with me boring?” She blinked coyly. “Not at all. I love being with you. You let me relax and not have to keep up appearances all the time.” “Are there others like that too?” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “A few, I suppose.” My heart sank. “Will I be part of your life in the future?” “Of course! We’ll work together at the company. There’s a trendy term now – ‘live-in son-in-law.’ What do you think?” She looked at me mischievously, as if she had just made a harmless little joke. My heart plummeted. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted an equal partnership. Finally one day, we had just finished watching a sad movie. The plot left me feeling suddenly disillusioned. “Let’s break up,” I said. She looked at me in shock, her temper flaring. “Fine, let’s break up then. Don’t come crying back to me later!” After that, when she messaged me, I blocked her. We had no contact for three years. I heard she went abroad.

Gideon’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “So that’s what happened between you and my cousin! No wonder she was so depressed for a while, locking herself in her room and refusing to talk to anyone.” I couldn’t imagine her being heartbroken over me. Those 7-8 guys in her phone contacts, each with their own code name. I was just one of many. “Getting dumped always hurts. It’s not that surprising,” I said. I had to go to work the next day and also needed to get my apartment fixed. I left early in the morning, not wanting any more interaction with her. I’m now a project manager at an IT company. Today we had a meeting with a big corporation about a new project. My team and I rushed to the company, only to find that our contact person was none other than Lark, who I had just awkwardly parted ways with. My scalp tingled, but there was no avoiding her. “This project has a tight timeline and heavy workload. The team will need to work overtime often, and many business requirements will need to be confirmed with me in person,” she said. I nodded. “Since we’ve won the bid, we’ll give it our all.” She pointed at me. “Beckett, please come to my office to discuss some details.” I followed her into her office. It had an austere, elegant style that didn’t quite match her soft beauty. What suited her best was the sharp business suit that accentuated her figure as she walked. I steadied myself. She first went over the project details, which I responded to one by one. Then she suddenly asked, “Our project schedule is very tight. Will your girlfriend mind you getting home late?” I shook my head. For some reason, I found myself asking, “You’ll be working late with us too, right? Will your boyfriend mind?” She answered languidly, “My boyfriend? He has quite a temper. Very willful.” I guessed she meant Kieran. My heart twisted with an indescribable sourness. “Then you shouldn’t stay so late with us. I can report any issues to you the next day.” She stared at me for a moment, then suddenly stood up and sat down next to me.

I stiffly shifted away. She suddenly grabbed my sleeve. “Why did you block me? Even if we couldn’t be lovers, couldn’t we at least be friends?” My heart ached. As if I had a choice in the matter? She leaned in close, her sweet-smelling breath on my face. “Beckett, I…” Before she could finish, there was a knock and Kieran walked in. “Lark, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone here.” He turned and saw me, freezing in surprise. “Well if it isn’t our campus heartthrob Beckett! Long time no see. I hear you’re a project manager now.” Seeing him brought back memories of before, filling me with bitterness. He walked over and put his arm around Lark’s waist intimately. “What do you want for dinner? I’ve made a reservation.” He looked at me. “Beckett, want to join us?” I suddenly stood up. “Sorry, I have plans. My girlfriend made a reservation too. I’ll be going now!” Lark looked stunned. I fled under Kieran’s mocking gaze. My heart, which had long been frozen over, shattered completely at the sight of them together. This time hurt even more than in college. Back then, I had cut things off myself. This time, I was the one being cast aside. My heart turned cold. Kieran was right about one thing. The games of the wealthy were not for ordinary people like me to play.

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I just got married to Anderson Jacob. As soon as we were done, he said, “Let’s file for divorce right away to avoid any false hopes. Remember, we can only ever be like siblings.” He only married me to comfort his dying adoptive mother. I’ve been devoted to him since he took me in when I was five, loving him for twenty years. But now, seeing the disdain in his eyes, I’ve finally lost all hope. “Sure, going straight into the divorce waiting period sounds good.” I didn’t tell him that my biological parents have found me and want to reconnect. I sent a message saying, “Mom, Dad, I’ll come home with you after I’ve fulfilled my responsibilities to my adoptive mother…” As we left the civil affairs office, Anderson still seemed uneasy about me. “During this time, keep your little schemes to yourself. Mom’s health is fragile, don’t upset her anymore.” “Okay,” I replied obediently. I glanced at the front passenger seat with a sticker that read “Ella’s Special.” For the first time, I willingly sat in the back, as far away from him as possible. But then he suddenly spoke up, “Sit in the front.” I was confused. He despises anything he considers crossing the line. He once said only girlfriends sit in the front seat. Every time I shamelessly sat there, he would darken his expression and make me get out. That sticker was something I had managed with the help of his adoptive mother. So why is he asking me to sit there now? “Don’t overthink it. There’s no hidden meaning. We got the certificate, so let’s act the part. We can’t let anyone notice and worry Mom.” I nodded and sat in the front seat. The sticker seemed irritating, so I started picking at it with my fingers. He frowned again and scolded me, “Ella, did Mom say you could remove it now? Are you ignoring everything I say? When will you stop causing trouble?” He hadn’t spoken to me this much in a long time. When we were kids, he was nice to me. When he brought me home, relatives joked, “Anderson sure is something, finding a wife at ten.” He proudly hugged and kissed me, saying, “Yes! I’ll marry Ella when I grow up and make her my bride.” I believed him and chased after him every day. Later, when he started middle school, I called myself his wife, and classmates reported it as early dating. Even after the school investigated and cleared it up, he was still mocked for having me as his “childhood bride.” That’s when he started distancing himself. But I didn’t realize it then and was proud to be his bride. After high school, I confessed to him, but he said we could only be like siblings. In my sophomore year, I secretly crawled into his bed. Since then, he avoided me even more, barely speaking to me alone. I was hurt. His adoptive mother comforted me, “He cares about you; I can see it. But boys mature late and don’t understand their feelings. Waiting for a man to grow up is hard. I advise you to find someone who reciprocates.” But I stubbornly chose to pursue and wait. I was twenty then. My adoptive parents couldn’t persuade me. They ended the adoption, allowing me and Anderson to be together legitimately. They even held an engagement party for us. Anderson was forced into becoming my fiancé, angry that his adoptive parents didn’t understand him and hated me for pushing them to match us. He had many flings, but they could never be with me. Yet, I found out he secretly resolved my problems behind my back. I chased away every girlfriend he had, and he never got mad. I thought he had feelings for me. Until today, I realized he truly hated me. My eyes burned with tears, and I looked down, not wanting him to see. I noticed a black stocking in the car door storage. Is this why he called my tricks clumsy? Is he playing around like this now? “Anderson, I won’t cause trouble anymore,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. “Hmm,” he replied, satisfied, without looking at me. “I hope so.” I rarely cried. As a child, he and my adoptive parents treated me well, giving me few reasons to cry. Growing up, even though he avoided me, whenever I cried, he’d get angry and walk away but would still compromise in actions. Now, he didn’t even notice my tears. I was sure he didn’t care about me anymore.

When his adoptive mother saw our marriage certificate, her tired face lit up slightly. Wearing a breathing mask, she couldn’t speak but kept nodding and blinking at me. Anderson got a call and left. His adoptive mother gestured to me for a while. I finally understood her meaning. “Wedding photos? I’ll find Anderson later for a rush, so you can see them soon. We’re also choosing the wedding venue. You need to get well to help me with my hair and veil.” She nodded and smiled faintly. But we both knew she might not make it to that day. The pain in my heart was like being gnawed by a thousand ants, but she kept urging me to go. I had no choice but to find Anderson. His company was the life’s work of my adoptive parents, and he took over after his adoptive father passed away. I was familiar with it. I walked straight to Anderson’s office. As I raised my hand to knock, I heard a sweet female voice inside, “Mr. Anderson, did you get a marriage certificate this morning? Should I contact a hotel to arrange the wedding?” “No need, and it’s unnecessary,” Anderson refused bluntly. “If you want to be my woman, stop bringing up things that annoy me.” The woman giggled, calling him “Mr. Anderson,” her voice teasing. I bit my lip, staying silent. Then I pushed open the slightly ajar door. Anderson sat behind his desk, with the woman on his lap. She stood up when she saw me, tugging down her short skirt, “Sorry, who are you?” Anderson pulled her back onto his lap, making her squeal, her face blushing as she playfully scolded, “Mr. Anderson, not with someone here.” I noticed the stockings on her legs matched the ones in Anderson’s car, and I kept silent. Anderson kept his arm around her waist, twirling her hair with his fingers near his nose, giving me a sidelong glance, “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t cause trouble anymore? If you’ve seen enough, leave.” He often brought different women to events. I used to find ways to drive them away, but today his intimate actions were a hundred times worse. I couldn’t interfere anymore. I had decided to leave. Whoever he’s with, whatever he does, it’s no longer my concern. I took a deep breath, swallowing the bitterness. “I need to talk to you.” He let go of the woman’s waist. She stood up, adjusted her skirt, and he gave her a playful pat on the rear. She glanced at him coyly before leaving. He sat upright, flipping through documents, “Speak. I’m busy and can only spare you two minutes.” I took a couple of steps towards him. The woman’s perfume lingered, making me pause. “Mom wants to see our wedding photos and attend the wedding. Are you free during lunch break? If you can make time, let’s take the photos first. I’ll handle the wedding venue. It won’t take much of your time.” He slammed the document on the desk and stood up, his gaze sharp, “Didn’t I tell you this morning that Mom’s not well, so stop causing her stress? Do you really think she can attend a wedding in her current state?” He walked towards me, gripping my shoulders, and shouted, “Ella, you’re twenty-five, not five! Mom raised you for twenty years, and now, in her final moments, you still use her to manipulate me? Do you have a conscience? The shares are being transferred. You have enough say in the company to control me. With the marriage certificate, what more do you want?”

I’d never seen Anderson so furious. His eyes red, words stinging. He pushed me away, kicking over the chair beside me. I fell, hitting my waist on the chair’s back. The sudden pain left me momentarily stunned. So, he thinks I’ve been using his adoptive mother to manipulate him. That the shares she left me were my schemes to control him. Is this why he went from disliking to hating me? I got up, clutching the chair, instinctively trying to explain, “I didn’t use Mom. I love her! I want her to be happy! Before she went on the respirator, she said she’s concerned about not seeing us settled. You were there when she said it…” He turned away, cutting me off, “Enough! Without your constant pushing, would we be here today? I should have never brought you home in the first place!” I looked into his cold eyes, my mind buzzing. Regret… for taking me home? If I had a choice… I wish I’d never met him! I didn’t want to argue anymore. “Anderson, I don’t want the company shares. I have two requests: take the wedding photos and hold the wedding as I said. You usually rest at 12:40 PM for an hour. I’ll wait at the café downstairs until 1 PM.” He cut me off abruptly, his voice sharp: “Enough! Would we be in this situation if not for your constant interference? “I should never have brought you into my life!” His eyes were cold, and my mind reeled with his words. Regret… for bringing me here? If I had a choice… I would have preferred never meeting him! I didn’t want to argue anymore. “Anderson, I don’t want the company shares! I have just two requests: let’s take wedding photos and plan the wedding my way. “You usually nap at 12:40 for an hour. I’ll wait for you in the café downstairs until 1:00.” With that, I left his office, each step I took sending a sharp pain through my waist. I waited at the café until 1:00. Anderson appeared with the woman who had been in his office earlier. He didn’t say a word. The woman, however, leaned against him and smiled at me: “Hello, Ella! I didn’t realize you were Mr. Anderson’s sister this morning, sorry for being rude. “I’m Emily, Mr. Anderson’s new assistant. “He asked me to join you for the photoshoot and handle the wedding arrangements. You don’t mind, right?” I nodded and stood up: “Let’s go.” The pain in my waist almost made me sit back down. I held my side as I walked past them and headed outside. Without warning, Anderson grabbed my wrist: “Trying to gain sympathy and complain to Mom again? I won’t give you the chance. We’re going to the hospital first.” He pulled me along, and I stumbled, twisting my waist further and intensifying the pain. I tried to pry his fingers off: “Relax! I won’t say anything to Mom. If you don’t trust me, have someone keep an eye on me. Can we go take the photos now?” “You better mean it.” He released my hand. He put his arm around Emily again and led the way. In the car, I watched the scenery pass by from the back seat, Emily’s constant chatter filling the air. At the bridal shop, their closeness made the staff assume they were the couple. Remembering how my foster mother loved looking at photo albums, I didn’t focus on choosing a wedding dress. I approached the staff: “It’s me and this gentleman taking photos. Please help me choose a rental wedding dress. “How soon can we get the album? Price isn’t a concern.” Emily shook Anderson’s arm: “Jacob, these dresses are gorgeous. Can I try one?” He playfully tapped her nose: “Go ahead, try them. If you like one, buy it.” She looked blissful, like a bride-to-be, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. Standing next to them, I felt like an outsider. But now, it didn’t matter to me anymore. Nothing hurt more than hearing, “I should never have brought you into my life.” The staff glanced between them and me with a strange look, but then professionally guided me to change and do my makeup. Just as my makeup was finished, my phone rang. It was a video call from my biological parents. They were squeezed together on the small screen. Seeing me in a wedding dress, they looked surprised and couldn’t hide their disappointment. “Sweetheart, are you… getting married?” Dad and Mom cautiously explained they wouldn’t interfere with my decisions. They called just to express gratitude to my foster mother and ask my opinion. I had confirmed my parent-child relationship with them. I knew they hadn’t stopped looking for me in the last twenty years. They stayed in the same village from twenty years ago, despite their wealth, waiting for me to come home. They opened several restaurants, but the old, small fast-food place on the corner remained, with all the staff familiar with my missing person notice. They never had more children, fearing they’d forget me with a new child. Fate played its tricks on us. I got lost at the train station back then, and with limited information, we missed each other repeatedly during the search. Their deep love made me want to pour out my heart, but I held back my emotions, trying to speak objectively. “Dad, Mom, my foster mother’s health is very poor, and she can’t handle emotional stress now. It’s not the right time to tell her. “I’ll fulfill my duties by her side, then go home with you and never come back. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll call you often during this time.” I smiled as tears blurred my makeup. When they heard I’d be staying with them long-term, they seemed unable to believe their ears and confirmed again. I seriously told them: “Yes! I’ll go with you and never come back here.” “Ella,” Anderson’s voice suddenly cut in. I turned to find him standing at the makeup room door. Hurriedly ending the video call, he stood before me, his face dark. He grabbed my wrist tightly, pulling me up from the chair, staring into my eyes: “Who were those people? Where are you going?” It was good that Anderson heard, so I didn’t have to find another opportunity to say it. I met his gaze: “They’re my biological parents. I plan to stay with Mom to fulfill my duties, then go home with them. “You don’t need to worry about me clinging to you anymore.” He sneered: “You truly have no conscience. After all these years of Mom treating you with all her heart, you’re just waiting for her to… “Have you clarified your relationship with those two people? You’re in such a rush to leave with them.” Waiting for foster mother to pass away? He saw me as being so malicious. I struggled free from his grasp: “We’re no longer siblings. We’ve received the divorce registration receipt. “So, whoever they are or wherever I go is none of your business. “All you need to know is that once the cooling-off period is over, I’ll get the divorce certificate and won’t trouble you anymore.” He laughed aloud. “Ella, you seem a bit smarter this time, even involving outsiders. “But using the retreat-to-advance tactic, you’ve tried it many times. Do you think I’ll fall for it?” He was right. I used to be foolish and troublesome. But when pretending to retreat to advance, I desperately wanted it to be real, watching his reactions and attitude; once I made up my mind to leave, it no longer mattered. “Let’s take the photos.” I walked out of the makeup room. Emily, dressed in a gorgeous wedding dress, passed by me, greeting Anderson: “Jacob, do I look good in this? The staff even gave me a bride’s crown.” I heard Anderson praise her indulgently, then call for the staff to swipe the card for payment. I felt suffocated, unable to sort out my emotions. I had always dreamed of wearing a wedding dress for him, becoming his wife. Now, wearing the dress, with the marriage certificate in hand, it was worlds apart from my dreams. It was truly ironic. Anderson cooperated during the photoshoot, leaving quickly afterward. We didn’t exchange any more words. By the time I got the album and rushed back to the hospital, it was completely dark. Foster mother’s hospital room was empty, and my heart sank, my legs going weak. I grabbed a nurse to ask and found out foster mother had been taken to the emergency room again. I hurriedly went there with the album, asking Anderson and the caregiver standing outside the operating room: “How is Mom?” The caregiver gently shook her head at me. Facing the operating room door, Anderson suddenly turned, angrily questioning me: “You still care? Knowing Mom’s condition is unstable, why didn’t you come back to the hospital to accompany her earlier?” I replied calmly: “I just got the album.” “Ella, are those things so important to you?” he yelled angrily, “More important than Mom’s life?” With that, he tried to snatch the album, furious like a raging lion. He seemed so unfamiliar to me. The Anderson I loved was always excellent, polite, and composed. But today’s Anderson seemed like a different person, whether with Emily or with me. I held tightly onto the album I wanted to show foster mother: “Anderson, are you crazy?” But the difference in strength between us was too great. He easily pushed me down and grabbed the album. “The crazy one is you, Ella! “Before Mom entered the operating room due to her deteriorating condition, she held on to ask why you didn’t come with me. “She was worried she wouldn’t see you one last time, yet you spent your time waiting for wedding photos?” My waist hit the metal armrest of a chair, immediately going numb. Then a sharp pain shot through as if it had snapped. But seeing him about to tear the album, I couldn’t care about the pain. “This is what Mom wanted to see…” At that moment, the operating room door opened behind him. The doctor came out, saying they had done their best, and foster mother’s direct relatives could go in for end-of-life care after changing clothes and disinfecting. Foster mother nodded slightly when she saw the album, her eyes lingering on me and Anderson. “Good children… don’t cry, I’m going to be with your Dad…” I don’t know how I bid farewell to foster mother. It felt like my soul was pulled out, leaving me unable to think. Anderson managed everything calmly, like a machine without emotions. Only on the day of foster mother’s burial did I realize she was really gone. I knelt before the grave, weeping uncontrollably, tears blurring my vision, seeing her gentle smile. “Mom…” I reached out, only to touch the cold, hard tombstone. The tension I had been holding snapped. The repeated injuries to my waist made it impossible for me to stand. Anderson carried me horizontally, pushing me into the car: “To the hospital.” He seemed very anxious, holding me until he got me admitted and found a caregiver. But after he left that day, I lay in the hospital for over half a month, and he never came to see me again. I didn’t tell my biological parents to avoid worrying them. Finally, when the doctor said I could recover at home, I called them via video call. “Dad, Mom, I booked a plane ticket for tomorrow…” “Mom…” I reached out, but my hand only met the cold, hard surface of a tombstone. Something inside me broke. With my injured back, I couldn’t stand on my own. Anderson took care of me, gently placing me in the car. “Let’s get you to the hospital.” He was visibly worried, staying by my side until everything was settled and even arranging for someone to look after me. But after that day, I spent more than two weeks in the hospital without a single visit from him. I didn’t inform my biological parents, not wanting to worry them. When the doctor finally said I could go home to recover, I called my parents via video chat. “Dad, Mom, I’ve booked a flight for tomorrow… “No need to pick me up, I’ll send you the arrival details.” Returning home, I packed my things, ready to leave this city that no longer held any meaning for me. On my desk was an unsigned contract for transferring company shares. I decided to take a few gifts from my foster parents and some photo albums with me. Lastly, I gathered everything connected to my feelings for Anderson. Love letters tucked away in books, practice sheets filled with his name, diaries documenting memories, sketches hidden in the closet… I packed until midnight. The items formed a small pile in the yard, and I set them on fire, watching my past love turn to ash. Suddenly, the yard door burst open. Anderson rushed in, pulling me away from the fire. “Ella, what are you doing?” The strong smell of alcohol hit me.

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Just because I ate a couple extra bites of the cake Mrs. Wilson made, my mom suddenly lost it and ruined my birthday party. “You’re truly your father’s daughter, with the same taste,” she spat. “Since you like her so much, why don’t you let her be your mother from now on?” “I don’t want you anymore.” Confused and scared, I cried and begged for her forgiveness. But she accidentally pushed me, causing me to hit my head on the table corner. Blood gushed out. In my dazed state, I heard my mother’s inner thoughts: [Let the chase begin. He’ll regret this.] [Those who betray true love deserve to suffer.] [That ungrateful father-daughter duo must be regretting it now.] She sounded smug and vindictive, without a trace of concern or love for me. But mom, if you truly love someone, how could you bear to see them hurt? “You like eating it so much? Then eat all you want!” When my mom suddenly grabbed an entire cake and threw it at my face, the noisy living room fell silent. Only her sharp voice lingered in the air. She wiped the cake off her fingers with a napkin, then shot Mrs. Wilson a look of disgust. “Aria Anderson, you really are your father’s daughter. The two of you have such similar tastes.” “Since you like her so much, why don’t you let her be your mother?” I looked at my mom, then at Mrs. Wilson’s weathered face. At an age when I hadn’t yet learned the word “absurd,” I suddenly grasped its meaning. It was all my fault and dad’s for always making mom misunderstand. That’s why she was so angry. “I’m sorry, mom. I was wrong.” I lowered my head in shame, hiding my reddening eyes. The cream felt sticky and uncomfortable on my skin. I didn’t dare to take a shower or change clothes, afraid that if I looked away for a moment, mom would really leave. But my apology didn’t soften mom’s expression. She coldly examined me, as if trying to find something on my face. “Then tell me, what exactly did you do wrong?” I nervously clutched the hem of my shirt, trying hard to recall what I had done to make mom angry. But I couldn’t think of anything. Singing the birthday song, blowing out candles, cutting the cake, eating the cake – these were all normal parts of celebrating a birthday. I hadn’t misbehaved or done anything out of line. I anxiously dug my nails into my palms, tears welling up in my eyes. Seeing me stammer without being able to say anything, mom’s face grew increasingly dark. Finally, her patience ran out. She violently flipped over the cake on the table. The gifts beside it crashed to the floor with a clatter. “You even like Mrs. Wilson’s cooking. Your dad must really be starving.” “When I cook, you two are so picky.” “But you can’t get enough of her cake, stuffing your face with it.” “Fine, Aria. Have it your way. I don’t want you anymore.” “From now on, you don’t have a mother.” Mrs. Wilson turned pale with fright, unable to understand how she, a 40-something housekeeper who diligently cooked and cleaned every day, had suddenly become the other woman in her employer’s marriage. I trembled in fear too, forgetting the cream still on me as I threw myself at mom’s legs and held on tight. “Mom, I was wrong. I’ll never eat cake again.” “Please don’t leave me.” My sobbing irritated mom, and the sweet cream made her even more unbearable. “My new dress!” She shoved me away forcefully, staring at the white cream stains on her dress as her chest heaved. “Go to Mrs. Wilson. I don’t want to be your mother anymore.” Mom pushed too hard. With cream all over the floor, I lost my balance and fell, hitting my forehead on the table corner. In an instant, liquid gushed from my head. Before losing consciousness, all I saw was red. I couldn’t tell if it was blood or mom’s red dress. “Mom, don’t go.” Don’t leave me.

When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. “Mom!” I frantically searched for mom’s figure, finally spotting her playing on her phone in the corner of the room. Mom was still here. My anxious heart finally calmed down. I stared at her without blinking, afraid she would suddenly disappear. The next moment, dad’s call came through. Mom clicked her tongue and irritably rejected the call. Soon dad called again. Mom rejected it again. This went on until the tenth call when mom finally answered impatiently. “Aaron Anderson, stop calling me. I told you, I won’t forgive you. This time, I’m definitely getting a divorce.” “Go live with all your mistresses.” “From now on, no one will cook for you or stay up late waiting for you to come home from work.” “Losing me is your loss.” The other end went eerily silent for a few seconds. Mom didn’t speak either. But I clearly heard her voice, as if coming from her heart. [Let the chase begin.] [Those who betray true love deserve to suffer.] [That ungrateful father-daughter duo must be regretting it now.] Her tone was triumphant and smug, without any concern or love for me. But mom, if you truly love someone, how could you bear to see them hurt? What chase? What betrayal? Was she talking about me and dad being ungrateful? I looked at mom in confusion, suddenly feeling a bit sad. I’m not ungrateful. I love mom very much. A feeling of inescapable exhaustion enveloped me. I couldn’t understand why things had turned out this way. Just because I was greedy and ate a few extra bites of Mrs. Wilson’s cake? Tears fell one by one onto the blanket, leaving damp spots. “Wendy, can’t we talk things through? Don’t take it out on Aria. She’s just a child,” dad’s voice sounded tired. “Besides, you have some nerve to talk. How can anyone eat the food you cook? You almost killed me!” Before he could finish, mom cut him off with a cold laugh. “A child? She knows plenty. She probably already knew Mrs. Wilson would become her stepmother, that’s why she’s sucking up to her.” “Too bad no stepmother will ever be good to her stepdaughter. I’m waiting to see you regret this.” The last sentence was directed at me. Mom turned to look at me. Her eyes held pure malice, as if she couldn’t wait to see me mistreated by Mrs. Wilson. “You’re being completely unreasonable,” dad’s voice turned cold too. He hung up with a click. [You’ll be begging me to come back one day.] Mom was angered by the “unreasonable” comment and started imagining scenes of dad pleading for her to return. It took her a while to calm down. She picked up her bag and left gracefully. “I’m not your mother anymore, so don’t expect me to take care of you.” “Just stay here and see if your precious Mrs. Wilson comes.” This time, I didn’t try to stop her. I hugged my knees tightly, struggling not to cry out loud. Mom, you said those who betray true love deserve to suffer. But if you truly love someone, how could you bear to see them hurt?

Mrs. Wilson didn’t come to the hospital to take care of me. She had resigned. Hardworking housekeepers with cooking skills are in demand everywhere. There was no need to stay with our family and risk her reputation. That day, I sat alone in the hospital from dawn to dusk without eating or drinking anything. My head remained dizzy and weak. In the end, a kind nurse couldn’t bear to see me like that. She brought me a meal from the hospital cafeteria and called my dad. After learning that mom had abandoned me at the hospital, dad rushed back from out of town overnight. When I saw him, the first thing I said was: “If mom never sees me again, will she regret it?” Sitting in the hospital room all day, looking at the tall buildings outside, a thought suddenly occurred to me. If I jumped from here, mom would lose me forever. When she sees my body, will she regret it? Will she cry and beg me not to leave her, just like I begged her on my birthday? “No,” dad replied firmly without hesitation. “Aria, people who truly love you won’t bear to see you hurt.” “Those who don’t love you won’t care if you’re in pain.” “Hurting yourself to make others feel regret or guilt is just a stupid form of emotional blackmail.” “You can’t gain real respect and love through such means. If you don’t believe me, we can make a bet.” Dad and mom soon got their divorce papers. Mom took the money and house, but not me. The house mom got was right next door to ours. When I missed her, I would wait by the door. If I was lucky, I might see her coming home or going out. But she never spoke to me or responded to any of my friendly gestures. Until one day, mom brought home a little boy. I heard mom call him Noah, Noah Summers. That was the first thing mom had said to me since the divorce. “Aria Anderson, this is my son Noah Summers.” “You’d better not bully him, or else…” She gave me a meaningful look, as if certain I would harm this little boy. A few days later, a handsome man moved in with mom. Mom liked to kiss him at the front door. A few times when dad came home early from work and ran into them, he frowned and wanted to talk to mom. “If you want to kiss, do it in your own home. Don’t always do it in the stairwell. It’s not good for the kids to see.” Mom was convinced he was jealous, and smirked smugly. “Where we kiss is our freedom. It’s none of your business.” “Or are you jealous that you can’t kiss me anymore?” Then she became even more excessive. She also liked to put on a show of mother-son affection with Noah at the door. “Sweetie, come here and let mommy tie your tie for you.” “Mommy baked this bread for you. Remember to eat it at school.” I stood at the door, looking at mom longingly, but didn’t get even a glance from her. After mom went back inside, I looked at the bread in Noah’s hand, hesitating. I wasn’t sure if I should stop him from eating it. To my surprise, Noah thought I wanted to steal his bread. He charged at me aggressively.

“You motherless bastard, get out of my way.” Noah was tall and sturdy, like a little bull. “Don’t even think about stealing my bread.” I could have dodged, but for some reason, I suddenly remembered the bet I made with dad and forcefully stopped myself from moving. A dull pain shot through my abdomen as Noah knocked me to the ground. My palms and knees were scraped and bleeding. “Mom,” I cried out, feeling wronged and bursting into tears. Seeing me cry so miserably, Noah finally got a bit scared and kept saying, “It’s not my fault. You fell on your own.” Perhaps the noise was too loud. Mom opened the door to check the situation. I sobbed and choked, using all my strength to cry, wanting to release all the grievances and insecurities I had bottled up. Tears streamed down my face. “Mom, Noah pushed me.” As I tattled on Noah, a flash of guilt crossed my mind. I’m a bad child. I’m sorry Noah, I just missed mom too much. But mom’s reaction left me stunned. She came over and stroked Noah’s head gently. “Did my baby get scared? Don’t worry, mommy’s here. I won’t let anyone bully you.” She had never spoken to me so tenderly. When her gaze turned to me, the concern in her eyes instantly turned to disgust. “Aria Anderson, I warned you not to bully Noah.” “No matter how much you act out, I won’t come back.” “I’ve told you already, I’m not your mother anymore. From now on, Noah is my only child.” Her tone was full of mockery, but her inner thoughts revealed excitement. [Regretting it now? Too late.] [I suffered so much for you two before. You deserve to taste some of that pain.] “Mom, aren’t you going to ask if I’m hurt?” Mom frowned, her expression a bit unnatural. “Why should I care if you’re hurt?” Oh, I see. Mom doesn’t love me, so she doesn’t care if I’m in pain. Dad won the bet. I wiped the tears from my face with my forearm and looked up at mom, speaking slowly and seriously. “Actually, I could have dodged Noah just now, but I didn’t.” “I did it on purpose because I wanted to see if you would feel guilty about me.” “What about you, mom? Was it on purpose too?” In that moment, I suddenly understood many things. Why I always felt guilty towards mom, why she suddenly wanted to leave us, why dad didn’t try to stop her. Mom angrily pulled Noah away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She clearly understood. My teacher once taught us a phrase – to be ashamed into anger.

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A True Goodbye Leaves Without a Farewell Brief My girlfriend, Sienna Lawson, had been abroad for three months. On the day she returned, she walked out of the airport arm in arm with a man who looked strikingly similar to me. That man was none other than her ex-boyfriend, Garrett Cain. The tenderness she showed him was something I had never seen before. It was then I realized I had been a stand-in for five years. So, I chose to leave and disappear from her life. In the end, Sienna, unable to find me, lost her mind. Content Watching Sienna step off the plane with Garrett Cain, the bouquet and umbrella in my hands slipped to the ground without me even noticing. Cold raindrops pelted my face, but they were nothing compared to the icy chill in my heart. I had seen a picture of Garrett in a suit on Sienna’s phone once. He looked a lot like me—maybe a 70% resemblance. But I knew I wasn’t in the photo; I never wore suits. Sienna had explained back then that she’d Photoshopped my face onto the image. Even before I started dating her, I knew she had an ex who looked like me. But after we got together, I figured the past was the past. She was with me now. Seeing Garrett in person, though, everything clicked. I’d been a substitute for five years. Friends who knew Garrett used to tease me: “Ryan, your style—your clothes, hair—it’s starting to look a lot like Sienna’s ex-boyfriend Garrett’s.” I had laughed it off then, thinking they were joking. Looking back now at everything Sienna had done, the truth hit me. In our five years together, she had me cut my hair the way she liked, dress the way she wanted, and eat the foods she liked. But it wasn’t until today, when I saw Garrett with my haircut, wearing clothes like mine, and holding the very same soda crackers that Sienna always encouraged me to snack on, that it all made sense. Standing in the rain, I felt like the fool in a viral internet meme. I had loved her for five years. I had been Garrett’s stand-in for five years. No wonder she went on frequent “business trips” abroad, sometimes for weeks. This time, it was three whole months. Because Garrett had been abroad all this time. During those three months, Sienna barely contacted me. I always sent “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Good night,” sharing every detail of my day. Her replies were always the same: “Yeah” or “Okay.” It was exhausting. I picked up the roses I’d dropped, looked at Sienna and Garrett laughing together, and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. They were a perfect match. I set the bouquet on a nearby public bench and drove home. Once home, I took a hot shower to prevent a cold from being drenched in the rain, then collapsed into bed. Predictably, I woke up the next day with a fever and pounding headache. After taking cold medicine and notifying my boss I’d take the day off, I planned to rest. That’s when Sienna came home. She walked in and looked at me, surprised. “Why didn’t you go to work?” I glanced at her. “I took a sick day.” She dropped her shopping bag on the couch, sat down, and demanded, “Why didn’t you pick me up yesterday? I told you to.” My head throbbed, and I didn’t want to argue. “I’ve been busy. Forgot.” She turned her head away in a huff, a familiar gesture to coax me into apologizing. In the past, I’d rush to make things right within hours. But now, I didn’t see the point. The fever and exhaustion made me want only to sleep. I left her sulking and went to lie down. Minutes later, furious, she barged into my room and threw the shopping bag onto the bed. “I thought about you the whole time I was away. I ought you all these clothes, and you treat me like this?” I glanced at the bag’s contents and let out a bitter laugh. Of course. They were precisely Garrett’s style.

Seeing that I didn’t even bother opening the bag, she snapped, “Fine! Ignore me, huh? Don’t talk to me anymore! The company just opened a branch in Riverside, and you’re going there. You won’t see me for six months!” I paused, then understood. Garrett was back, and she wanted me out of the way. It suited me perfectly. I had been thinking about leaving anyway. Now, she’d given me the excuse. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll pack and leave right now.” She looked at me, stunned, not expecting me to agree so readily. I had clung to him for five years, desperate to spend every moment together. Whenever she went on trips, I’d practically beg to stay on the phone all day just to hear her voice. To her, I couldn’t function without her. Dragging my feverish body, I started packing. The effort left me coughing violently, my head spinning. Sienna frowned and rushed to steady me. “Are you okay?” I pushed her hand away. “I’m fine. Just caught a little rain.” I continued packing as she stood there, conflicted. After a moment, she offered, “Why don’t you wait a few days? I’ll drive you. You’re not well.” I cut her off. “No need. It’s just a cold.” Grabbing my toiletries, I returned to find my suitcase ransacked. Sienna glared at me. “Why didn’t you pack the new clothes I bought? You’re just taking your old, ugly stuff?” I calmly reorganized the bag. “I’m used to my old clothes. They’re comfortable.” “I didn’t know you’d be home so early. There’s no breakfast. Order takeout yourself. I’m leaving.” I set the house and car keys on the coffee table, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out. I had arrived with nothing. I was leaving the same way. Downstairs, as I waited for a ride, Sienna ran after me, breathless. “I’ll drive you,” she said. “The bus will be uncomfortable, and I need to check on the branch anyway.” The trip wasn’t far—just over 200 kilometers. No flights were available, and she hadn’t booked a train ticket for me. I’d have to take a cramped bus, which wasn’t ideal given my fever. I was about to agree when a black sedan pulled up. A man wearing sunglasses stepped out.

It was Garrett Cain. He walked up to Sienna Lawson, flashing her a warm smile. “Sienna, I’m here to drive you to work.” Then his gaze shifted to me. “And you must be… Ryan Lander? You do look quite a bit like me. Sienna mentioned it before, and I didn’t believe her. Now I do.” Sienna looked at me, a flicker of panic in her expression. She started to explain, “Ryan, this is—” I cut her off with a cold smile. “No need for introductions. I know him—the first picture in your phone’s ‘favorites’ album.” Of course, I recognized him. I had been his stand-in for five years. Her album only had two photos: one of Garrett and another of her and Garrett. Garrett laughed. “Didn’t expect you to keep my pictures, Sienna. To be fair, I didn’t delete yours either. Sometimes, late at night, I still look at them.” Sienna shot him a warning glare, clearly uneasy with me standing there. Garrett shrugged, unfazed, the two bantering like a couple deeply in love. And me? I was the extra in their little reunion. Garrett suddenly said, “Oh, Sienna, that luncheon at the Regency Grand Hotel this afternoon. We need to get there early to prep. You didn’t forget, did you?” Sienna slapped her forehead, looking torn. “I almost did! But I need to drive Ryan to Riverside…” She hesitated for a moment before glancing at me apologetically. “Ryan, the luncheon is crucial. Maybe you could—” “Go ahead. I’ll get there myself,” I interrupted, not giving her a chance to finish. A luncheon, huh? It is just an excuse to throw Garrett a welcome-back party. I had left a high-level corporate job to help her with her fledgling company. I remember the night she took me out for fried skewers by the roadside, and I spent no more than $20. And now, Garrett returns, and she books the city’s most luxurious hotel for him. Even the cheapest dish there costs thousands. It wasn’t the roadside food I minded. It wasn’t even the glorious celebration. It was realizing that five years of genuine love had been for nothing. As a cab pulled up, I waved it down, got in, and left. From the rearview mirror, I saw Garrett hand Sienna a dress she took with a shy smile before getting into his car. She didn’t spare a glance at the cab I had taken. There wasn’t even a text on my phone. But I didn’t care anymore. Rolling down the window, I let the morning breeze wash over me as I took one last look at the city I had stayed in for Sienna. Goodbye. No—good riddance. I would never return. Not for Sienna. Not for this city. I felt no attachment to either. As the saying goes, when you love someone, it’s soul-crushing. But when you despise them, everything about them—including where they live—becomes unbearable. The fever had me feeling lightheaded and sick to my stomach. Taking a long bus ride in this condition would probably kill me, so I asked the cab driver to take me across state lines. He agreed, for a price. When we arrived, the driver woke me up. “Where to exactly?” he asked. Groggy and feverish, I shook my head. “I don’t have a place yet.” The older man, probably in his fifties, looked at me with a hint of pity. “That young lady I saw earlier—your girlfriend, right? How could she let you travel while you’re this sick?” I shook my head again. “She’s not.” He didn’t press further, pulling out his phone and making a call before driving me toward town. I drifted off again. When I woke up, I was lying on a bed.

Still groggy, I felt an overwhelming thirst. I sat up, and just then, the door opened. A woman with a ponytail walked in, carrying a glass of water. She handed it to me with a small smile. “You must be thirsty. Here, drink some warm water.” I dumbly accepted the glass and downed it in two gulps. “Uh… is there more?” She stifled a laugh. “Of course, silly. It’s water—we’re not running out anytime soon.” She left and quickly returned with another glass, followed by the cab driver. The driver said, “I don’t know where you plan to work, but if you need a place to stay, this house is available for rent.” He explained that it was his old home, where he had lived with his family before they moved. After his daughter had a car accident that left her with mild brain trauma and depression, she couldn’t handle the noise and stress of the big city. He brought her back here, to this quiet little neighborhood. The area was serene, with courtyard-style houses. It suited me perfectly. I owed the man for helping me, so I rented the house and paid him three years’ rent upfront. The property was split into two small units connected by a walkway. His daughter, Cassidy Grace, lived on the left side, while I took the right. Before leaving, he said, “Take care of my daughter, will you?” I joked, “Aren’t you afraid I might run off with her?” He chuckled. “Kid, anyone who cries in their sleep for two hours isn’t someone I’d peg as a bad person.” I froze. So that’s why he’d asked earlier if Sienna was my girlfriend. With all his years of experience, this man had seen right through me. He took care of me while he asked me to look after Cassidy. She bought me medicine, made me meals, boiled water, and even gave me rides to work on her little electric scooter. Thankfully, my workplace was only a few miles away. I felt genuinely cared for for the first time, not coerced into compliance. During this time, Sienna didn’t call or text. I didn’t reach out either. Without her, life was better. It felt like I’d reclaimed the sunny, confident version of myself I had lost five years ago. Cassidy and I played badminton video games and spent time outdoors. I felt healthier than I had been sitting at a desk for years. She was forgetful as a result of the accident. Sometimes, she’d drop me off at work, only to return an hour late, thinking it was already time to pick me up. Her recovery would take time, possibly a lifetime. I had a friend in the medical field who had made significant breakthroughs. Once I resigned, I planned to take Cassidy to him for treatment. That was the least I could do to repay her kindness. One evening, as I lay in bed scrolling on my phone, I saw a new Instagram post from Sienna. It was a picture of her and Garrett at a hotel—he in a suit, she in a white gown. The caption read: “Powerhouse Collaboration: Here’s to the company’s future!” Anyone would’ve assumed it was a wedding photo if not for the background. Someone commented, “Wow, Ryan looks amazing in a suit! Never seen him dressed up like that.” Sienna replied: “That’s not Ryan. He’s… another friend of mine.”

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The night before the SAT Finals, my overachiever boyfriend, Carter Paxton, handed me an “essential” essay topic he guaranteed would appear on the test. Trusting him, I memorized it word for word. Incredibly, the essay prompt was precisely as he predicted. I gleefully wrote it out during the test, sure I’d score top marks. But when the results were released, my perfect record shattered—I scored only 280 overall! Meanwhile, Sloane Whitmore, who usually lagged academically, soared to become the valedictorian, cozying up to Carter in celebration. Devastated, I took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to 10 minutes before the test started. That’s when I noticed Sloane’s sly, calculating stare. Content I had been reborn, back to 10 minutes before the SAT began. Carter Paxton stood before me, his smile a picture of reassurance. “Hannah, don’t stress. Just write the essay I gave you exactly as it is. I’ll see you at Union State University,” he said smoothly. “You’re brilliant and hardworking as always—I have no doubt in you,” he added. To ensure I would use his essay, Carter had grilled me relentlessly in the previous life. I couldn’t help but laugh coldly to myself. In my past life, he said the same things. And yet, when the scores came out, my essay was flagged as plagiarized, earning me a zero on my English Literature and Composition paper. But why wasn’t it Sloane Whitmore accused of copying me? When I confronted Sloane, she had denied it all, smugly claiming, “Hannah, I turned in my paper early. How could I have copied yours? The surveillance footage even shows you glancing my way repeatedly. If anyone cheated, it was you!” My scores were abysmal—20 in math, barely passing in other subjects. My protests were dismissed as excuses. It didn’t make sense, no matter how I thought about it. Until this moment when Carter handed me a pencil case, inside was a pen, and I realized it had ink that had disappeared within 12 hours. I snatched the pencil case from him without hesitation, masking my revulsion as his grin deepened. “Hannah, I’ll be right here if you feel nervous. Just look over at me and think of us,” Carter said soothingly. In my past life, surveillance footage had caught me glancing out the window—toward Sloane’s desk. I had trusted Carter implicitly, assuming Sloane had sweet-talked him into giving her the essay prompt. Swallowing my disgust, I turned to him with a saccharine smile. “Carter, you’re so thoughtful. I’d be lost without you.” “Of course, silly. We’re forever. Now go ace that test.” I headed toward the exam hall. Along the way, I bought a regular pen at an inflated price from Dane Hargrove, the second-ranking student in our class. It was worth it for peace of mind. As I passed a classroom, I noticed a discarded bottle of red ink on the floor. Picking it up, I grinned—this was divine intervention. This time, I wasn’t just aiming to survive. I was going to make Carter and Sloane pay. In the exam queue, Sloane scanned the crowd until her eyes locked on me, and her lips curled into a satisfied smile at the sight of the pencil case in my hand. “Sloane! Your dress! What happened?” someone exclaimed. Sloane turned to see an unmistakable blotch of red on her skirt—a result of my “accidental” handiwork. Her face drained of color. Flustered, she shoved her pencil case into a friend’s hands and ran toward the restroom. “Let me take it for her. Sloane’s desk is next to mine,” I offered before anyone could respond, snatching the case. Inside, I swapped her pen cartridge with the one Carter had prepared for me. 2 That cursed pen had doomed me to a score of 280 in my past life. While I had used my fountain pen for the essay, I relied on that faulty pen for every other subject, and the results were catastrophic. No one believed me when I denied plagiarism. Without proof, my protests fell on deaf ears. My college acceptance vanished, replaced by blocklisting from every high school in the area. Sloane paraded my “academic dishonesty” online and told reporters, “Hannah’s entire record was fake. I won’t press charges, but her cheating caused real harm. She owes her peers, teachers, and society an apology.” Her words fueled a wildfire of public condemnation. In her pristine white dress, Sloane gave tearful interviews while Carter comforted her, becoming her knight in shining armor. Meanwhile, I endured harassment—death threats, insults, and even packages containing dead animals. Sloane rode her “high-achieving victim” narrative to an acceptance at Union State University and became a media darling. She and Carter were hailed as the perfect couple, while I was painted as a conniving fraud. Even my family believed the lies. My father’s sighs and my mother’s tears broke me. I took my own life to escape the shame. I would ensure they paid the price for everything they took from me. On test day, Sloane finished early, passing by with a smirk. She made small noises to distract me, hoping I’d glance her way for the cameras. This time, I gave her the satisfaction of two deliberate glances—just enough to confirm she hadn’t swapped pens. Watching her write Carter’s pre-prepared essay, oblivious to the vanishing ink, almost made me laugh out loud. Carter and Sloane had no idea I had improved the essay they thought would secure Sloane’s perfect score. Mine was refined and structured for maximum impact. When the results came out, I couldn’t wait to see their faces go pale. 3 The math, English, and composite exams followed in quick succession. I watched Sloane Whitmore tap her foot happily as she scribbled answers during the test. When the final bell rang, we left the examination hall together. Outside, Carter Paxton greeted me with a broad smile and a casual wave. “How’d it go, Hannah? Did the essay I prepared for you come up?” he asked, his tone soft and caring. As he spoke, he took my pencil case from me and discreetly tossed the pen into the nearest trash can. A cheap pen worth a couple of bucks wasn’t worth keeping, and he visibly relaxed after getting rid of it. Trailing close behind me, Sloane saw Carter’s action. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Hannah, what did you write for your essay?” Sloane asked, leaning in with the overwhelming scent of her bargain-bin perfume. Feigning naivety, I recited the essay Carter had drilled into me word for word. Sloane’s and Carter’s initial curiosity transformed into uncontainable glee. “You wrote that? Wow, Carter’s incredible—he predicted it perfectly! And he’s in college already, yet he still cares so much about your SATs. You’re so lucky!” “Seriously, Carter’s amazing. He even helps his girlfriend prep for her college essays! That kind of foresight is rare,” another chimed in. “If Carter had tutored me, I wouldn’t have flunked my essay. Hannah, you’re lucky to have such a talented and thoughtful boyfriend. It’s like he’s one in a million!” The chatter of classmates surrounded me, and Sloane pretended to join in with half-hearted admiration while Carter placed his hand on my shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze—a subtle celebration of their scheme. I caught the knowing glances they exchanged, and the smugness in their eyes made my stomach churn. In my past life, I was too blind to notice their unspoken communication and perfectly synchronized acts. “Now that the exams are over, we should all celebrate! One last hurrah before we go our separate ways,” suggested Dane Hargrove, the class president, with cheerful enthusiasm. Of course, I agreed. I knew exactly what was coming next. In my previous life, Carter went on camera and accused me of having a “habit of stealing.” He claimed that my plagiarism of Sloane’s essay was just the tip of the iceberg. But the real thief had always been Carter. He’d stolen money meant for our housekeeper, Mrs. Ellie Carter—$10,000 in cash. No one suspected him back then. When the money went missing, my parents blamed me and cut off my allowance for a month. “Ellie, this money is for you,” my mother had said sternly. “Hannah, if you took it, just admit it. People make mistakes, but honesty is what matters.” “I expected better from you,” my father said, his disappointment cutting me like a knife. I knew I had left the money for Mrs. Carter, but my protests fell on deaf ears. In this life, when I saw Carter eyeing Mrs. Carter’s paycheck again, I replaced the real cash with fake bills. At the dinner celebration, Sloane enthusiastically pointed at the menu, calling for all the most expensive items—wild-caught Maine Lobster and other delicacies. The waiter scribbled down her lavish order. “Carter, you’re finally here! Sloane’s been thinking about your love for seafood and ordered much just for you. I couldn’t stop her!” Jade Ellington chimed in, her tone syrupy sweet. “She even skipped the shrimp because you’re allergic, even though it’s her favorite. She’s always so thoughtful,” Jade added. “Oh, you!” Sloane said with mock modesty, nudging Jade playfully. Carter’s gaze softened as he looked at Sloane with what could only be described as quiet admiration. 4 I wasn’t here for the food. My focus was elsewhere. Feigning confusion, I asked, “Wait, is Sloane picking up the tab? With all this fancy seafood, it’s gotta be pricey!” In my past life, Sloane had publicly accused me of being a homewrecker during a similar dinner. She rallied everyone against me, painting herself as the victim of my supposed interference in her relationship with Carter. What should’ve been a simple “split the bill” dinner ended with me being stuck with the entire check under the guise of “making peace.” Not this time. I flipped through the menu and let my eyebrows rise in exaggerated worry. “Wow, this place is expensive! There’s a more affordable spot nearby. We’re all just broke students—maybe we should go there instead.” I emphasized “broke students,” knowing someone’s ego wouldn’t be able to take it. Sure enough, Jade Ellington sneered at me like I’d just grown another head. “Broke? Speak for yourself. Just because we’re students doesn’t mean we’re broke! Besides, Hannah, doesn’t your family own a business? What’s with the penny-pinching?” I let my gaze linger on the fine print at the bottom of the menu: a $300 minimum per person. Thinking about Carter’s hollow bravado and empty wallet made me almost giddy. “No big deal, Hannah,” Dane Hargrove chimed in. “Let’s enjoy the night! A little splurge won’t hurt anyone, and Carter definitely wouldn’t fit in at a cheap diner.” “Oh, don’t worry about it, Hannah,” Sloane added, her tone dripping with faux kindness. “If you’re struggling to pay, we could all pitch in and cover your share.” That fake generosity burned me in my past life, but I had no shame this time. “Sloane, you’re so thoughtful. Thanks! I’ve been short on cash lately,” I replied with a cheerful smile. “Since we’re celebrating, maybe I’ll add a couple of nice drinks to my order. Cheers to us!” Sloane’s smile twitched. “You… you…” Just then, the waiter arrived. “Would you like to order now?” “Yes,” I said sweetly. “Let’s add a bottle of Dom Pérignon, please.” Sloane stiffened, her grip on her fork tightening. The waiter approached with his notepad in hand. “So far, we have truffle and mushroom wagyu stir-fry, premium black and white caviar…” I glanced at the menu items Sloane Whitmore had already ordered. Nearly every item was the most expensive seafood available. If she was going all out, why shouldn’t I? “Let’s add a bottle of Château Lafite and a round of specialty cocktails,” I said with a saccharine smile. Sloane’s lips twitched as she clenched her fork. Jade Ellington, ever the gossip, seized the moment to strike. “So, Hannah, how long have you and Carter been together?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence. I knew this was a trap. In my past life, I’d answered honestly and ended up branded with a massive “homewrecker” label. “One year? Wasn’t it the summer before senior year?” I had answered back then, and her response sealed my fate. “Oh, so there was no gap at all? That’s proof you swooped in while Carter and Sloane were still sorting things out! Hannah, that’s so gross. Poor Sloane was too kind to say anything,” Jade had sneered. “Yeah, Sloane and Carter were arguing—they hadn’t officially broken up! But you jumped at the chance, didn’t you? How shameless can you be?” another classmate said, feeding off the drama. “Don’t hold me back, Sloane!” Jade had cried dramatically, trying to slap me as tears streamed down her face. Sloane, always the consummate actress, pretended to restrain her. Back then, Carter’s silence was deafening. “Let’s move on, everyone. I’ll do what I can to make it up to Sloane,” he said, his voice full of empty promises. His refusal to defend me was more damning than any accusation. I’d stormed out of the restaurant, humiliated. 5 In this lifetime, I played my cards differently. Feigning shyness, I tugged on Carter’s sleeve, lowering my gaze like a bashful girlfriend. “Almost three years,” Carter replied smoothly, calm and composed. “Three years?!” Jade Ellington nearly dropped her fork. “But I thought it was only one year! Senior year, right?” “I’ve been with Hannah since her sophomore year,” Carter said. “I’ve had a crush on her for a long time.” He added, “I didn’t want to distract her from her studies, so we only went public in senior year. I didn’t want her to deal with unnecessary rumors.” Sloane Whitmore’s face turned ashen. Her brows furrowed deeply as she stammered, “What about… us?” Sloane had basked in the assumption of being with Carter during their junior year. She’d never confirmed the rumors outright but had played along coyly whenever classmates teased her about it. Carter, however, looked directly at her and delivered the blow: “There’s never been an ‘us.’ Hannah has always been my only girlfriend.” His words left no room for interpretation. On the way to dinner, I’d subtly planted seeds with Carter. “My dad mentioned how grateful he is for all the help you’ve given me with my studies,” I said. “He joked about paying you $200,000 for tutoring me.” Carter’s brows had knitted for a moment, but when I continued, “You’ve been so selfless, even keeping our relationship private to protect me,” his tension eased. Now, under the scrutiny of everyone at the table, Carter took my hand and kissed it gently. “Silly girl,” he said, his voice dripping with sweetness. “Three years hardly captures how long I’ve cared about you.” Sloane looked as though she’d been struck by lightning. Her dazed expression only cleared when Jade tugged her sleeve, snapping her back to the present. “This is Carter’s notebook,” Sloane said, handing over a thick stack of notes. “The exams are over, and I don’t need it anymore.” As she passed the notebook to Carter, a receipt fluttered out, landing near my feet. Curious, I bent down and picked it up. It was a Chanel receipt for a limited-edition “Snow White” bag addressed to Carter Paxton. I looked up to see Sloane smirking at me with smug satisfaction. Carter’s nervous glance darted between me and the receipt. “Sloane, a Snow White bag? That’s quite the gift,” I said, holding the receipt. Sloane’s triumphant smirk widened. I turned the receipt over to inspect it closer. “But isn’t this line exclusive? As far as I know, it’s not available in the U.S. It might be worth getting it authenticated.” The color drained from Sloane’s face. Moments later, she called over the waiter, glaring at him. “Be careful with the sauce! Don’t let a single drop touch my bag!” All eyes turned to the white bag she cradled protectively. “That’s a gorgeous bag,” Jade said, touching it. “Careful!” Sloane snapped, swatting her hand away. “This cost over ten grand. It’s not for greasy fingers.” I watched the performance with cool detachment. Having owned the same bag, I knew hers was a counterfeit. I held up the receipt, pretending to scrutinize it further. “Sloane, your receipt dropped. Funny, though—this bag isn’t sold stateside. It’s worth checking out, just in case.” Carter’s expression turned gray, his lips pressing into a tight line.

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