After an argument with my mother-in-law, Marlene Hughes, she climbed up to the rooftop, threatening to jump. When the firefighters managed to get her down, I could barely feel my legs. Before Alex and his sister, Candace, could even find a reason to blame me, I beat them to it: I told Alex I wanted a divorce. It was only a marriage, after all. I wasn’t about to let it turn into a prison sentence. After walking the firefighter out, I took a moment to gather myself. The crowd of neighbors lingering by the building hadn’t dispersed, huddling and muttering to each other. When they saw me, they turned away, avoiding eye contact. But I couldn’t care less about them now. The sight of Marlene, swinging unsteadily on the rooftop railing, was stuck on a loop in my mind. I knew I’d never forget it. The firefighter had tried to comfort me, saying, “It’s tough keeping the peace, but it’s worth it. Just try to be a bit more patient, especially with older folks—they don’t always mean what they say. You know she’d never actually jump, but all this back-and-forth is hard on everyone. Even if they’re just trying to get their way, it’s exhausting.” I thanked him. He reminded me that although Marlene hadn’t actually jumped, the fact that she went up there was enough for me to be blamed as the daughter-in-law who “pushed her to it.” If I didn’t leave now, she’d always hold that over me. And if she figured out that she could keep pulling stunts like this every time things didn’t go her way, what would I do then? It was better to cut my losses now. I couldn’t play her game anymore. Back in the apartment, Candace was sitting with Marlene, comforting her as she cried in the master bedroom. Alex had rushed home from work and was sitting on the sofa, looking dazed and not quite processing it all. Carol, our nanny, was standing on the balcony with Chloe, looking over at me with worried eyes. I silently thanked her—at least I didn’t have to worry about Chloe while everything else was in chaos. I went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, and tried to gather my thoughts. When I felt steady enough, I sat next to Alex on the couch. He looked at me with a frown. “What happened here? I wasn’t gone an hour, and this is what I come back to? Couldn’t you have just let things go with my mom?” “Let it go?” I’d heard that phrase so many times over the past two weeks. I thought I’d “let it go” more times than anyone could ask, but for Alex, it was never enough. How much more did he expect me to give? And still, after everything, Marlene would pull this life-or-death routine. If I kept “letting it go,” there’d be nothing left of me. “Alex, I think we should get a divorce.” I tried to keep my voice calm. Fighting about who had it worse, me or his mom, was pointless. “A divorce? Because I called you out?” he shot back. “You pushed my mom to the point where she tried to jump, and I can’t even say something? Grace Miller, how did I not realize how irrational you could be? Or are you just using divorce to threaten me now?” Two sentences from Alex, and my blood was already boiling. I took a deep breath to suppress my need to argue. “I’m not threatening you.” “Look, by your own account, I pushed your mother to the edge. How would it look if you didn’t leave me over that? You only get one mother, Alex. If you chose me over her, even I’d lose respect for you.” Alex’s eyes were full of fury, and he laughed bitterly, nodding. “So you want a divorce? Fine. I’ll give it to you.” We agreed to meet at Family Court the next day. “Your mom probably doesn’t want to see me right now, so I’ll go stay at my mom’s place with Chloe,” I told him. I packed Chloe’s things, and Carol and I left. When I opened the door at my mom’s, she thought it was Dad and called out from the kitchen, “Hey, grab some cooking oil on your way up. We’re all out.” When she saw me, she looked surprised. “Didn’t know you’d be home for dinner. Where’s Alex?” “Mom, I’m just here for a while,” I said, trying to hold it together. “Well, then, I’ll defrost some ribs and make that sweet-and-sour pork you like.” I managed to smile and nod. But as soon as I was alone in my old room, the tears hit. I buried my head under the covers and let it all out, sobbing until I had no tears left. My life had always been steady and peaceful—except for childbirth, I’d never known anything as terrifying as this. The rooftop crowd had watched as I begged Marlene to come down, paralyzed by fear. Even though I couldn’t stand her, I never wanted her dead. I never wanted anyone dead. 2： Once I’d calmed down, I came out, and Dad was already home. From the look on his face, Carol had probably filled him in. He pointed at the table, suggesting we eat first and talk later. Once we finished, Carol excused herself, taking Chloe downstairs for a walk. “What happened between you and Marlene that she’d pull a stunt like this?” Dad asked. “Alex should be asking his mother that too,” Mom said, sighing. She looked worn out, and so did the ribs, charred beyond recognition. “Nothing unusual,” I replied. “Same things as always.” Marlene had come from Richmond two weeks ago, and after a couple of polite days, the conflicts started. Marlene complained that the guest bedroom was too cramped and gave her nightmares. I knew what she meant—she wanted to move into the master bedroom. I refused, so every night she’d start screaming, leaving my heart racing. Worse, Chloe—my little angel who usually slept right through the night after her 4 a.m. bottle—was waking up screaming too. For Chloe’s sake, I gave in, letting Marlene have the master bedroom while Alex and I moved into the guest room. I could have ignored her sloppy eating habits, her habit of leaving the bathroom door open, or her roaming the living room in just her robe after a shower. But she treated Carol, who was hired just to help with Chloe, like a servant. Marlene demanded leg massages and chided her for not doing enough, claiming, “We pay you to work, not to lounge around.” We fought over it, and I tried explaining to Alex. Marlene eventually stopped making demands of Carol but switched to criticizing her, saying she wasn’t good with Chloe, pushing her aside to use outdated, unsanitary parenting techniques. When it came to my daughter, I put my foot down, but Alex just asked me to tolerate his mom’s behavior a little longer. “She’ll go home soon. Just hang in there,” he’d say. I tried to hold on, but last night, I overheard her telling Candace over the phone how comfortable she was, and Candace replied, “Stay as long as you want. It’s your son’s house; it’s your house too.” So today, I finally asked her when she planned on going home. After all, Robert was there by himself. She accused me of wanting her gone, and the argument blew up. I listed all the ways she’d crossed boundaries, reminding her this was my home, not hers. At first, she just sat and wailed. I left to use the bathroom, and when I came out, she was gone. Then I heard the fire department had been called, and I saw her, perched on the rooftop railing. I was numb as I begged her to come down, telling her it was all my fault, mindlessly saying I was wrong. She ignored me, crying that I was an ungrateful daughter-in-law trying to kick her out. She only came down when Candace and Alex arrived. When she tearfully declared herself a burden, saying it’d be better if she was gone, I nearly believed her act. If I wasn’t in the middle of it, I would’ve thought I was a terrible daughter-in-law, with a useless husband. My parents were silent for a while after I explained everything. “Why couldn’t you hold your tongue one more day?” Mom sighed. “What are you going to do now?” Dad asked. “Alex and I are getting a divorce tomorrow,” I said. “I’m not about to carry the burden if she jumps next time.” “Is divorce the only way?” Mom asked, trying to talk me down. “You could live separately and avoid the conflicts.” “Can I avoid her forever?” I replied. “She’s his mother.” I smiled bitterly, thinking about how naive I’d been when I married Alex. My family had warned me about our differences, and my uncle bluntly told me his parents would be a problem. But I thought Alex and I could make our own lives in San Diego, separate from his family back in Richmond. I hadn’t realized how differently men and women see marriage. To women, marriage means forming a new, independent family. But men—especially men like Alex—see marriage as adding another member to the family they already have. If you start with that fundamental difference, how can you grow old together? “Divorce might be the best option,” Dad finally said, supporting me. “No point getting tangled up with people who only wear you down. You can do your best, but in a house like that, it’ll never be enough. Divorce is the right call.” With that “ungrateful daughter-in-law” label, even if I tried my hardest, nothing would ever be enough. Even if I held out, would I want Chloe to live a life filled with silent resentment? I had to leave. That night, I lay beside Chloe, her little body warm and soft as a cloud beside me. I was all she had now. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ll be fine. We’ve got Carol with us, and you’re used to things being this way, aren’t you?” 3： When I went to finalize the divorce, Candace was already there, glaring at me with a look of pure disdain. She must have been planning to give me a piece of her mind since yesterday, but maybe she hadn’t expected me to push for divorce so decisively. She wouldn’t have many more chances to accuse me of her mother’s near-death attempt, so while Alex and I were drafting our agreement, she loudly announced to everyone within earshot, “This is the daughter-in-law who pushed her mother-in-law to suicide.” I kept quiet, accepting the blame she wanted to pin on me. We didn’t have many financial ties—our apartment was in his name, with his down payment, and while I’d helped with a few mortgage payments, I wasn’t going to fight for that money. I just wanted the divorce finalized quickly. The car was mine, a gift from my family when we got married, so I planned to take it with me. “What makes you think you can keep the car?” Candace snapped. “My family paid the wedding dowry and blessing fee, not to mention the wedding costs. Return everything, or don’t even think of leaving with the car!” “Well, the appliances are all mine—about ten grand’s worth,” I replied calmly, looking at Alex. “That should offset the blessing fee and the dowry, don’t you think?” Alex and I had married for love, so I hadn’t made any issues over the dowry. But I never expected they’d throw that money back in my face during the divorce. “And as for the wedding costs,” I continued, “most of the gifts from friends and coworkers went to your mom. You know how generous they were, and I’ll be the one paying those favors back when the time comes. I think that means the money doesn’t belong to you, right?” “No, it doesn’t,” Alex interjected. “For the furniture, I’ll give you $5,000 to offset it.” He wasn’t a terrible person, and for that, I felt a bit better. At least I hadn’t completely failed in this marriage. Candace glared at Alex, muttering, “She said she didn’t need it, and you’re still giving it to her? You’re a fool! After what she did to Mom, she doesn’t deserve anything.” “As for child support, whatever you think is right,” I told Alex, “but if you don’t, I can take care of her alone.” I already suspected Marlene didn’t care much for Chloe since she wasn’t a boy, but I had decided long ago I would only have one child. Now, I wanted Chloe to take my last name. If Alex chose not to pay child support, that would only make it easier for me. “I’ll pay child support,” Alex said with a weary expression. He looked as though he hadn’t slept at all. Maybe he hadn’t expected things to end this way. I had brought up the divorce first, and with everything that had happened, he couldn’t really argue against it. After all, he was the dutiful son. We agreed on a monthly child support amount of $3,000. Alex made a six-figure salary, so it was just about the minimum, though Candace was still grumbling about “overpaying for a little girl.” It never occurred to her that she was also “a little girl” once. Finally, at the courthouse, the clerk followed standard protocol and tried to counsel us one last time. Candace, meanwhile, announced to the entire room, “This woman forced her mother-in-law to suicide. No one would want a daughter-in-law like her!” “Do us a favor and just stamp the papers. Our family can’t afford this kind of burden. Any longer and we’d be ruined.” Red paper exchanged for red paper—marriage to divorce. Relationships are so fragile. Just a new, shiny cover and there’s nothing left. For a brief moment, Alex and I shared a feeling of sadness. After all, neither of us got married thinking we’d end up here. Alex looked at me, close to tears. “Grace…” Just the night before, we’d been laughing and planning a weekend with Chloe at a resort. How did we get here? “I’ll come by tomorrow to pack up my things. Make sure your family isn’t there,” I said, turning away so he wouldn’t see my resolve wavering. “I think it’s better if your mother and I don’t see each other again.” Hesitation only prolongs the pain. Better to get the divorce done and endure Candace’s shouting in court, rather than sit at home listening to it, knowing it would never end. The next day, I went to get my belongings. Marlene and Candace were gone; only Alex was there. After a few days, it seemed he had come to terms with everything. “Grace, I know it’s not all your fault that my mom tried to jump. I know you wouldn’t have said something that hurtful.” “So you knew she wasn’t being kind,” I replied. He looked away, and for the first time, I felt relieved. I began packing. When I’d given Marlene the master bedroom, I hadn’t brought over much, just a few essentials. Now, as I looked through my closet, I noticed that my designer bags were gone. Anything without a designer label had its straps slashed or fabric ripped. My favorite clothes were thrown in a heap, some with visible tears. Alex looked like he wanted to say something. “It’s alright. She was angry. This is how she needed to let it out,” I said, forcing a smile. No point in arguing now. I could only be grateful that I was out of this situation for good. When I opened my jewelry box, all my gold pieces were missing, with only a few silver and cubic zirconia items left—the kind Marlene probably didn’t care about. Alex tried calling her, saying it was too much. “Don’t,” I told him. “I don’t even wear gold jewelry much. Besides, most of it was your family’s Bridal Keepsakes anyway. It makes sense to give them back after the divorce.” “That was mine, though,” Alex said softly. When we got married, his mom had gifted me three pieces of old jewelry as the keepsakes, but Alex wasn’t happy with that. At the time, he had just bought this apartment, so he had little left, but he’d saved up to buy me a new set himself, saying I deserved what everyone else had. But he’d also said, “If other wives can tolerate their mothers-in-law, why can’t you?” I shook my head. What’s the point? The marriage was over. In the end, I didn’t take much with me. As I left, I set the keys on the entryway table, removed the door code from my memory, and asked Cypress Property Management to update my contact details. I was done with that house. After all that commotion a few days ago, returning today for the divorce would surely make me the talk of Maplewood Court Apartments for a while. But I was past caring. 4： About a month after the divorce, I started receiving mysterious packages. Each one contained something familiar—a brand-new version of a bag or outfit I used to own. At first, I didn’t know who was sending them, so I kept them unopened at the office. By the third package, I had a hunch: Alex was behind it. I called him, cutting straight to the point. “What are you trying to do?” “Aren’t these the things you liked?” he replied, his voice casual. “I looked through some old photos and tried to find replacements for the stuff you lost. You never told me your things got ruined. I had no idea they cost so much.” “Alex, do you remember that we’re divorced?” I took a steadying breath. “You don’t need to spend money on me anymore.” “It’s not about spending money—it’s compensation,” he said quickly. “Don’t refuse it; these were your things, and if someone ruined them, they should be replaced.” “What are you thinking, really?” I asked. I couldn’t understand him. He’d barely said anything during the divorce; it didn’t make sense that he’d be having regrets now. “I just… I just want to make it up to you,” he admitted, his words scattered. He’d been doing a lot of thinking, realizing that maybe I hadn’t gained anything from our marriage. He still cared, and he hadn’t wanted to hurt me. “If we hadn’t divorced, you wouldn’t be saying any of this,” I told him bluntly. If we’d stayed married, Marlene would still be in our home, and I’d still be stuck with her stunts, torn between guilt and frustration. I’d have been forced to tolerate her behavior for some time, but eventually, I would’ve broken down. In that case, Alex would be caught in the middle again, struggling to please us both and most likely saying all the wrong things. “Alex, I never asked you to choose between me and your mom. I know how important she is to you. I let you go for a reason, so please, let me go in peace.” “Don’t send me anything else. I’ll just send it back,” I said firmly. Later, I heard from Megan that Marlene was pushing Alex to go on blind dates, and when he resisted, she moved one of the girls right into his apartment, eventually driving Alex to request a longer assignment out of town. Apparently, Marlene was pushing him to marry because she’d discovered that Robert was involved with someone else. That’s why she’d left Richmond and moved into her son’s home. She wouldn’t leave Robert herself but had no problem breaking up her son’s marriage. This only made Robert more comfortable staying out of the house with Becky, his mistress. Megan, a close friend of ours, shared this with me one day over coffee. Her husband grew up near Alex in Richmond, and their families were always in the loop. “I honestly admire how quickly you went through with the divorce,” Megan said. When I’d first told her about it, she’d worried that I was being too hasty, but now she saw it differently. “Some people aren’t happy until everyone around them is just as miserable.” Megan shook her head. “Living with someone like that would make me lose it in a few days. Poor Alex, though. My husband ran into him at the station last week—he looks so thin he’s practically unrecognizable.” “More work means more pay,” I replied, trying to sound indifferent. Whether I still cared or even still loved him didn’t matter. As long as Marlene was around, there would be no happiness for us. No one should stumble over the same stone twice. So I wasn’t expecting Candace to come knocking one day, asking me to take Alex back. She looked drained—stuck dealing with Marlene now that Alex had fled town. That couldn’t have been easy. She tried to appeal to my sympathy, asking about Chloe. “Babies grow so quickly. Every month, it’s like they’re completely different. Alex still has your photo on his phone screen. Maybe you could give him one more chance?” “What could he possibly miss about a daughter-in-law who supposedly ruined his family?” I asked, unamused. She squirmed a little before saying, “He’s in his prime, with a stable job, a car, and a house. He could find anyone he wanted, someone younger, to settle down and give him a son.” I threw her own words back at her. Her expression shifted, realizing her attempts weren’t landing. “It was all just misunderstandings. I was speaking in anger, and when things get heated, you say things you don’t mean. You need to see things from our side too. She was just in a bad place, and none of this was supposed to get so extreme.” Candace had always been pushy, intruding into our lives from the day I married Alex. Although Marlene had caused our biggest problems, Candace wasn’t far behind in setting the standard for how controlling in-laws could be. “Isn’t there still a woman living at Alex’s place? It seems a little inappropriate to be here asking me for a second chance,” I said, smiling. She clearly hadn’t expected me to know this much. Candace let out a heavy sigh, switching to complaints. “Mom has lost it. That woman doesn’t even have a diploma—she’s nothing compared to you. Alex has no interest in her, but Mom dragged her into his place, pays for everything, and even supports her family.” “Whether she’s good enough or not doesn’t matter as long as your mom is happy, right?” I said, seeing right through her. I had no interest in entertaining her requests. If she truly cared about her brother’s happiness, she could start by finding him someone new. I didn’t know if she’d find anyone suitable. Not long after, I heard that Marlene had pulled another rooftop stunt. This time, she’d been berating Candace, calling her ungrateful for trying to drive her beloved mother out. Candace had reportedly been in tears, begging her mother to stop. “If you don’t leave, my marriage is over!” “Well, you’d better make some room up here. I’ll join you. What’s the point in living if my own kids won’t even let me stay with them?” While Alex was away, Marlene had been calling on Candace’s husband for help with errands. Over time, they’d grown close, and now Candace’s husband had been caught having an affair with Marlene’s new “house guest.” Candace was livid when she found out. This woman wasn’t leaving without a fight. And just to ensure her exit would be a grand finale, she claimed she was pregnant with Candace’s husband’s child, demanding a large settlement before she’d go. Megan told me Alex had come back and that he’d ended up paying the woman off himself. “Can you believe it? His mom’s the one who brought her around, his brother-in-law’s the one who slept with her, and somehow the whole mess falls on Alex’s shoulders.” “His sister blames her brother, not her husband, and the minute her mom calls her out, she uses it as a chance to cut ties with her family, saying she won’t be back,” Megan said, shaking her head. “It’s like Alex is the one left holding the bag for everyone.” “That’s how it is for him. He can’t say a bad word about his mom or his sister,” I replied. “In all the time we were together, he never criticized them once. I wouldn’t have been so naive about them if he’d just been honest.” “Not that it matters, but my husband thought about introducing Alex to someone new. Honestly, though, that would be like leading someone straight into a trap,” Megan said with her usual bluntness. “Anyone who ends up with that family would be in for a nightmare.” “What about his dad? Wasn’t he any help?” I asked. Marlene and Robert were still married, after all. It seemed strange that Alex should carry all the responsibility. “Oh, his dad only made things worse,” Megan replied. “You know the money Marlene’s friend walked away with? Well, somehow word got out back home, and Robert’s girlfriend threw a fit and started demanding her own payout.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. “Does Robert even have any money to give her? He’s lived off everyone else his whole life.” “Exactly,” Megan said. “First, it was his parents, then Marlene, and now it’s Alex’s turn. Robert has no money of his own, so he just called up Alex and demanded fifty grand, like it was nothing.” “Funny how people who don’t make money are the quickest to spend it,” I sighed. “Alex used to send him around two thousand every month, and still it wasn’t enough. Whenever they needed something, they’d just call Alex to cover it. I never complained about him helping his parents. After all, supporting our parents is a responsibility.” I used to send money to my own parents too, though they’d refused to take it. They still worked and knew that I had a family of my own to support. That’s when I realized—not everyone’s parents are willing to make sacrifices for their kids. It’s a roll of the dice. “Think Alex will actually hand over that fifty thousand?” Megan asked, worried. She didn’t want him to keep enabling their demands and ruin his own life in the process. I wasn’t sure. But it made me think about Chloe’s future. What if Alex turned into a sad, needy old man someday? Would she feel obligated to support him? After the divorce, Alex’s attention to Chloe had noticeably improved. He added Carol on social media, checked in on Chloe every day, and even video-called with her when he could. He’d started sending clothes, toys, snacks—everything she could need or want. Mom once said, “Whatever happened between you two, Chloe’s still his daughter. And if he wants to be involved, let him.” And she was right. Chloe deserved to know her dad, and I had no intention of standing in the way of that.

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Dropped Out for My Boyfriend’s PhD, He Married His Student – Now I’m Reborn to Change My Fate! dropped out of school to support my boyfriend through his Ph.D. But once he achieved his success, he cheated with a student of his and divorced me. Then, after a car accident, I woke up… back to the day I dropped out. I stormed into the school office. “Mr. Baker, I’m not dropping out!” Mr. Brian Baker adjusted his glasses and looked at me with a smug smile. “Ann Monroe, right? So, you’re staying in school now? Fine by me. But you’ll need to take care of that unpaid tuition and fees balance. That’ll be $8,904.90.” He eyed my worn, faded uniform with disdain. “When you got in, we all thought you’d be our little golden ticket. Six months in, and you’ve gone from the top of the class to scraping the bottom 500.” As he went on and on, my grandma pushed her way in from the hall, lugging a large burlap sack stuffed with my belongings. She had decided that if I dropped out, she’d sell everything I owned to the junk dealer. “Mr. Baker,” Grandma Lila shot back, “you better get your words right! What do you mean ‘fees’? This girl made the top ten on her entrance exams, and your school waived those fees! We wouldn’t even have considered coming otherwise!” “Grandma Monroe, the fee waiver had conditions attached! When she entered, we thought she’d go on to a state university. Now, I’d be surprised if she could get into a junior college.” In middle school, when my dad was still alive, I studied hard every day and scored high on every test. But high school wasn’t the same—the work was harder, and you needed not only talent but time. I had no time. While the other students were in evening study sessions, I was working the late shift at the convenience store. And while they were at early class, I was out delivering milk. And all the money I saved went to fund my so-called “little brother’s” video games. Grandma and Mr. Baker bickered on, ignoring me, the person actually involved. “Grandma,” I said, grabbing her sack. “I’m not dropping out!” She stared, shocked. I’d always been so quiet, and here I was, loudly refusing. But I wasn’t done. “Lenny’s not even Dad’s son! You adopted him, just so there’d be a ‘real heir’ in the family, and now you’re supporting his video games with the money I work to earn!” I was loud enough that teachers from the math department next door started to listen in. Grandma’s lips trembled. “Are you trying to kill me?” I shrugged. “Funny, you didn’t seem frail when you slapped me yesterday.” By now, I knew my only chance of staying was to win sympathy. Most teenagers would never dream of exposing their hardships, but ten years of hell taught me that survival mattered more than pride. I dropped to my knees, rolling up my sleeves to reveal red welts. “You’re forcing me to quit school, to marry a man old enough to be my father just for his dowry? That forty-year-old slob Dale Jensen, who can’t even feed himself? I won’t do it!” I crawled forward, letting tears fill my eyes. “Just let me stay in school. If I get into college, I swear I’ll support this family.” In my previous life, I dropped out, and they forced me to marry. I finally injured Dale, stole my ID, and ran. They all thought I’d gone off to the big city to find work, but only Sean Turner knew the truth—he found me half-delirious with fever. Starved for love, I’d bought into his lies, taken odd jobs to support him, even paid his tuition and expenses. But why did I have to send him to college? Why couldn’t I go to school myself? This time, every single abandoned dream, I would bring to life. And as for the parasites who’d lived off my back? I’d deal with them one by one. The teachers watched, stunned, as Ms. Wendy Harris—the one who’d originally recruited me to the school—came over and lifted me to my feet. “Ann, I had no idea,” she said softly, then turned to Grandma, her eyes sharp. “Mrs. Monroe, let me remind you: our school paid your family $5,000 to bring Ann here, and now you want to push her to quit?” “Five thousand?” I’d never known about that. Grandma squirmed, clearly feeling uncomfortable in front of so many teachers, but she wouldn’t back down. “Girls are meant to get married. Older men, well, they know how to treat a lady.” “Older? Dale Jensen is twenty-four years older! Ann’s only sixteen, Mrs. Monroe. What you’re doing is illegal.” This time, the teachers murmured disapproval. Grandma couldn’t withstand the pressure anymore. “Fine. She can stay. But don’t expect us to pay any tuition!” Relieved, I exhaled, though Grandma grabbed me and whispered fiercely, “If you insist on this, you’ll be paying your own way. Not a single cent from us.” Seeing Grandma’s fury, Ms. Harris stepped protectively between us as Grandma threw up her hands and marched out, leaving me surrounded by teachers. Mr. Baker, snapping out of his momentary sympathy, returned to his usual sneering tone. “No precedent exists for this kind of waiver. If fees aren’t covered, that’ll fall on our department.” “We’ll apply for every waiver available,” Ms. Harris said firmly, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Whatever’s left, I’ll cover it.” I hesitated and then looked back at Mr. Baker. “If I got into the Ivy League, would that cover my fees?” Mr. Baker spat out his coffee. “The Ivy League? We’d be lucky if we got one student into a decent state college!” “I just didn’t have time to study before,” I explained. He clearly didn’t believe me. “Well, the finals are next week,” he said. “Let’s see if you can back up those big claims.” Ms. Harris looked doubtful but kind. “Ann, you don’t have to worry about the fees. You can pay me back once you’re working if it bothers you.” My jaw set. I’d show them all. “Go on back to class and gather your things,” Ms. Harris said. It was between classes, so the room was buzzing with noise. But when I walked in, dragging my burlap sack, the chatter stopped. I walked straight to my old seat. “Taken,” sneered Greg Kent, who liked to think of himself as the “Denzel Washington” of our class, wrinkling his nose at my worn uniform. “But I’m back,” I said calmly, “so move your stuff.” Greg turned bright red. “You? Why bother staying in school if you’re too dumb even to get into a junior college?” He sneered, and the class burst into laughter. The fact that I’d once been one of the top students, to them, just made it funnier. Bam! I slammed my books down. “Greg, I earned my spot here. You? Your parents paid for yours!” First rule of standing up to bullies: focus on one, make an example of him. Greg’s face went even redder, but the bell rang before he could respond. Our strict English teacher walked in, clearly in a foul mood. Our class’s average score was much lower than the next class over. “With scores this bad, I could’ve thrown grains of rice at your answer sheets, and chickens would’ve picked better answers! You there, Greg.” She turned, her eyes snapping. “Ann here claims she’s ready for a recitation.” Greg flashed a mean smile. “Yeah, Ms. Preston, Ann says she can do it!” Clearly hoping I’d embarrass myself, he raised his hand. “Fine, Ann. Come on up here.” To his surprise, I nailed it. I started slow, but I could feel his smugness vanish as I recited each word. After class, Ms. Preston called me over. “You know, if there’s anything you’re struggling with, you could tell us.” Other teachers overheard and nodded, but I held my head high, determined. At that moment, Blake Preston walked by. Ms. Preston called out to him. “Blake, would you mind giving Ann a copy of today’s assignment?” I looked up, recognizing him. Blake, the boy who’d stood up for me once before, one of the only bright spots in my life. But now my goal was Ivy League or bust. Back in class, someone had soaked my books with water. “Was it you?” I asked Greg, who wore a guilty smirk. No matter what they did, I wouldn’t waste time on their games. By the next exam, I’d be ready for Greg and anyone else who tried to get in my way. I hauled my sack to the back row, finding a seat by the window next to Blake, the “Sleep King,” who rarely lifted his head off his desk. I sat down, relieved. Suddenly, he lifted his head and looked at me. “Blake, you don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” I asked as I settled in. “You’ve already sat down,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “You’re a good person,” I told him honestly. His ears went red. “Just don’t wake me up.” I could hear whispers from the girls in front of us: “Oh my God, she’s sitting by him!” And just like that, I had an unexpected ally in my new life.

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As my husband lay dying, he grabbed our son’s hand and whispered, “It’s time to bring your real mother back. Take care of her.” But I was right there in the room. My son nodded tearfully. “She’s had a rough life hiding all these years, Dad. I should.” Then my husband looked at me and said, “Thirty years of being called ‘Mom’ by my kid should be more than enough to make you feel appreciated.” I stood frozen, realizing for the first time that my adopted son was actually the child of my husband and our neighbor, conceived before our marriage. Furious, I left the hospital. I was struck by a truck on the way home and died instantly. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself on the day everyone first urged me to adopt that child. 01 At a family dinner with Jim Holden’s relatives, my mother-in-law, Mary Holden, again pressured us about adopting a child. “Grace has been married for three years, and with her miscarriage and health issues, having a baby now could be risky for both her and the child,” she said. “If it doesn’t work out, why not consider adoption?” I sat there stunned, my hand pinching Jim’s thigh under the table. He winced and yelled, “Mom’s talking to you, Grace! Why are you pinching me?” Seeing his face twisted in pain confirmed it: I’d come back to life, and here I was, facing this family all over again. Just like in my last life, everyone was hinting that I’d failed them by not having a baby. Back then, Jim had pretended to support me, but he’d put the blame squarely on me too. “Grace and I are meant to be together. I love her unconditionally, child or no child,” he’d said at the table then, adding, “I don’t want her to take any risks.” “Stop worrying, Mom.” But after that, he and his mother would work together, guilt-tripping me as the “bad one.” She would nag that a woman’s worth came from having kids, while Jim comforted me about our “love and quiet life together,” assuring me he preferred it this way. Eventually, I couldn’t take his pleas and gave in to the idea of adoption. The very next day, Mary brought Liam over herself. “This boy is already five, and I’ve met him at the foster home. He’s quiet and obedient, no trouble at all,” she’d said. “You two work a lot; if he were one of those rowdy kids, you’d never manage!” All the paperwork was in order, and I welcomed Liam home with a smile. Every evening when I came home from work, he’d hand me a glass of water, saying, “Here, Mommy, drink.” His voice was so gentle it melted my heart. Jim would smile proudly, saying we were blessed. While I cooked, Liam would help pick vegetables, already acting eager to please. I figured he’d endured a lot in foster care, so I poured my affection into him. Whenever I could, I’d buy him new clothes or hold him when he woke up scared. But my parents were furious. “You can have your own kids, Grace! Why adopt someone else’s?” my dad scolded. “What if his birth mom shows up and tears your whole life apart?” I was stubborn. I believed Jim and I were soulmates, and I believed love could replace blood ties. I refused my parents’ advice and even cut them off when they continued to argue. Once Liam came along, Jim became softer with me, giving in to every request. “For Liam’s sake, could you ask around and help me get a permanent position at the transit department? Then I could support the family better,” he said. So, I passed on a promotion so Jim could get a foot in the door. When he got the news, he picked me up and twirled me around. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, honey. I’ll take care of you and Liam, always.” I even used my connections to move Liam’s foster records to the city so he could attend the best elementary school. With a steady job, Jim rose from an hourly laborer to a railway attendant, doubling his income. Now he was always traveling, and every time school was out, he’d take Liam on study trips around the country while I stayed home handling the rest. Over the years, I became worn out. I thought my life would calm down once Liam was grown, but instead, I got the news that Jim was on his deathbed. Surrounded by family and friends, he urged Liam with his dying breath: “It’s time to bring your mom back, Liam. Take care of her.” I was right there, but it was as if no one saw me. My son, the one I’d raised, nodded with tears in his eyes. “I know, Dad. She’s suffered enough.” Only then did I realize I’d been the only one in the dark all these years. Jim had a son before our marriage, and that boy was Liam. His birth mother had lived just a floor above us, and Jim had been taking them on family trips all this time. Blinded by rage, I slapped Jim hard. Then I stumbled out of the hospital, too numb to notice the truck that would kill me moments later. But I opened my eyes and found myself back on that day again, with everyone pressuring me to adopt a child. This time, I laughed bitterly. “If I can have kids of my own, why would I adopt?” 02 I’d done everything for Jim, even gone on a hunger strike to marry him, believing I couldn’t live without him. Seeing me cold and detached now rattled him. “Mom’s just looking out for us,” he said, his face red. “What kind of wife are you, acting like this?” “A kid would make our family happier.” “Wasn’t it you who said you didn’t want me overworked and wanted a quiet life?” I interrupted. “If you’re lonely, why don’t we just get a dog?” Mary’s face went white. She shot Jim a look. Jim snapped, “How can you compare a dog to a kid?” “Dogs at least show loyalty, Jim. But adopt a kid, and you’re as likely to end up with an ingrate,” I said, flinging my fork down. “You’re still a temp worker, barely making enough to cover your parents, let alone a child. Get real.” Jim lost his temper but finally reached an agreement with me: he would wait to adopt until his job paid more than mine. I didn’t want to see this family ever again, but I couldn’t leave just yet without losing half of what I owned. I clenched my teeth and waited. Mary gave us both a forced smile, saying, “No need to argue over a kid. We’ll revisit it later.” The two of them left the apartment, but I trailed after them quietly, only to see them head upstairs to 203. They took out a key and let themselves in. Back home, I realized Mary had known all along about Jim’s affair and had helped hide it from me, waiting to snatch as much as she could. I let go of my habit of cleaning up after them, remembering I wasn’t their maid anymore. Instead, I threw out my old clothes and cheap cosmetics, determined to cut the last remnants of my past. When Jim returned, he looked at me in shock. “Why toss perfectly good stuff? Wasteful. I could help you save, you know.” Without even looking up, I replied, “I’m letting go of all the useless junk.” 03 Jim couldn’t handle my cold responses anymore. He muttered curses under his breath, stomping around the apartment. “Wasteful woman, acting high and mighty just because she makes a bit of money! Now she won’t even clean up the house!” Listening to him complain, I wondered how I ever believed he cared about me. I ignored him, pretended to take out the trash, and made my way down to a street corner with old flyers taped on the poles. I examined them closely until I found one that read, “Green Meadows Apartments, Unit 204 for rent.” “Hi, is this Unit 204 available for rent?” I asked when someone picked up. “Yes, that’s me! I’m glad you called!” a cheerful voice replied. We arranged to meet at a nearby diner. There, a middle-aged woman named Aunt Lucy showed up, her arms slightly plump, her smile warm. “Just call me Aunt Lucy. You’re the one looking to rent, right? I ask for the first three months’ rent upfront. It’s thirty dollars a month.” After signing the lease with her, I pocketed the keys to Unit 204. Then I hired an electrician to come by and drill a small hole in the living room wall that adjoined Unit 203. Through this gap, I installed a tiny device that would let me hear everything going on next door. Now, I wouldn’t have to set foot inside to hear every word that passed between Jim and his lover. That eavesdropping soon revealed everything I needed to know. Jim’s mistress Rachel had been living just above us for years. She was so familiar to me, yet I couldn’t place her face at first. But my heart broke all over again, realizing she’d been so close the entire time. With my plan in place, I told Jim I’d have to stay at my work dorm for a while due to an urgent project. I packed a small suitcase and moved out, hiding in a spot under a big tree, where I had a direct view of Rachel’s apartment window. A short while later, I saw Rachel hurrying back with a little boy in tow—young Liam, barely five years old at the time. The light flickered on in their apartment above, and I crept up to my new unit to listen. “Daddy, I missed you so much!” Liam’s small voice was so clear it was as if they were speaking in my living room. Jim’s voice answered. “Come here, little guy. Let me see if you’ve grown taller. Look how your mom takes such good care of you! Remember what Daddy told you?” “I remember,” Liam replied, his voice brimming with pride. “I’ll always remember how good my mom is to me, and one day, I’ll bring her home with me. Daddy, where are we going next?” “We’re not going anywhere far, kiddo,” Jim replied, laughing. “One day, you’ll live with Daddy and your other mom, but you’ll be close to your mom, too.” Rachel’s voice broke in, sounding tense. “Jim, you think adopting Liam will work? What if she finds out?” Jim’s voice turned harsh. “As long as Mom covers for us and we keep Liam in line, there won’t be any problems. Grace is always busy. She’ll barely notice when Liam’s around. I get the best of both worlds—I don’t have to take care of my mother or our son, but we’ll still be together as a family.” Rachel giggled, her voice suddenly coquettish. “I knew you always had me in your heart, Jim. By the way, the skincare products you bought last time are all gone. Can you see if you can get more? My skin feels so rough.” “You still look better than her, no matter what.” The sound of their laughter filled the room, and I could hear Liam’s childish giggle at the end. “Daddy and Mommy, kissing! So embarrassing!” I thought of all the times I’d gone without to make sure Jim and his mom had what they needed. I remembered all the cheap skincare I’d bought for myself, the work clothes I’d worn until they were frayed. All that money I’d saved had gone to support their little secret life. Sitting there listening, I felt a strange calm as I pressed “record” on the tape player. Once, I’d returned home from a work trip to see a strange woman playing with Liam in the park near our house. Jim waved it off, saying it was just the neighbor who found our son adorable. But now, I understood. They were a family, laughing and playing together like I was the outsider. 04 I tried to avoid bringing Liam home, thinking Jim would let it go. But I underestimated his persistence. He started spreading rumors to pressure me into adopting, knowing it was my biggest vulnerability. One night after work, I went to the cafeteria to grab dinner. But when I sat down, a few people got up and moved away, looking at me like I had some contagious disease. They whispered behind their hands, but I caught a few words. I grabbed my friend Jenny’s arm as she passed by. “Jenny, what’s going on? Why is everyone looking at me like that?” Jenny avoided my gaze, looking horrified. “Grace, don’t touch me! Your mother-in-law said you have some…infection that’s the reason you can’t have kids.” She lowered her voice. “People are saying…maybe it’s because of…you know, things you might have done when you were younger.” I was shaking with fury, but I knew I had to stay calm. Any sign of weakness would just give them more ammunition. That was exactly what Jim and Mary were hoping for. Just then, Jim showed up and started shouting down the gossipers, then turned to comfort me. “Grace, don’t listen to their nonsense. You know Mom means well. She’s just worried we won’t have anyone to take care of us when we’re old.” In front of the gathering crowd, I patted Jim on the shoulder, my voice loud and clear. “Who says we don’t have kids? Our daughter’s been living with your mom, and she’s six now. She’ll be moving in with us soon!” I smiled sweetly, “Honey, aren’t you thrilled?” I’d always taken Jim at his word, but now I was ready to make my own moves. If he wanted me to adopt so badly, I’d do it—but I’d bring in a child with my own blood.

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I’ve been reborn in Hardcore Mode. My mom, Lisa Riley, is a high school dropout obsessed with romance; she doesn’t even feed me because she’s busy posting online about her “man behind bars.” Then there’s my uncle, Kyle Riley, who acts all spiritual but bought a fake beaded bracelet from the dollar store to pass himself off as a “Social Media Circle guru.” The system gave me eight lives. I was thrilled, cheering like a mad baby, only to get tossed into the toilet the next second. What? No one told me survival would be this hard! 01 My name is Avery Wayne, and I’m a baby about to be born. The system told me I was a terrible person in my last life, so it reincarnated me in “Hardcore Mode.” This would force me to understand the cruelty of human life; if I managed to survive until 18, I’d be reborn with a cushy life as a rich, only child next time around. As a consolation, I was given nine lives. Overjoyed, I laughed out loud, only to choke on secondhand smoke as soon as I peeked out. “Get ready; he’s almost here!” A girl with cigarette dangling from her mouth and bangs covering her eyes grabbed me without hesitation. “Gosh, hurry up with the baby already! We’re all waiting for you to get out here and sing.” I glanced around to find myself in a Karaoke Lounge bathroom. Lisa Riley grabbed a napkin, wiped her thigh carelessly, and was about to head out when another girl stopped her. “You’re just gonna leave him here? What about the kid?” Lisa paused, just as someone yelled from outside, “Hey, who ordered the ‘Rose Funeral’ song?” Lisa’s eyes sparkled, and she immediately waved her hand. “I’m going to sing, so just toss him in the toilet.” “…?” Before I could process it, I was swamped by a foul odor and spun around, disoriented. The system chimed in, “Game Over.” One life gone, just like that. Excuse me? Nobody said surviving would be this hard! 02 I got another chance, and the system filled me in on my family situation. My mom, Lisa Riley, was a self-proclaimed “Rebel Queen.” She was in high school, spent her time chanting and dancing online, and went by the name “Street Queen Lisa Riley.” Wait, who cares about her online handle? I cut off the system and asked the real question: “What about my dad?” The system paused briefly, then spoke in a strangely poetic tone, “On the other side of a wall.” “?” “Huh? Like… did he move abroad?” “Actually, no… he went inside.” Turns out he and his friends had a scuffle over a bowl of chili because they didn’t have enough cash. They started fighting over who’d eaten more and ended up getting hauled away by the cops. Lisa took it hard, quit her online life, and wore his black-and-white photo as a necklace every day. It’s just a year for brawling, not like he died… why the theatrics? With that locked in my brain, I waited for my next reset. As I was about to get tossed down the toilet again, I grabbed onto Lisa’s necklace, clutching the locket hard. “What are you doing?!” she shouted, ready to get angry until she saw my tiny hand holding the photo against her chest. Suddenly, Lisa teared up. “Ray… Ray Wayne, did you want me to keep this baby?” “Would you really… want me to raise someone else’s kid?” “…?” What? Did I just hear her right? Despite the emotional confusion, Lisa actually chose to take me home over singing “Rose Funeral.” Sure, it was chaotic, but at least my grandparents might keep me safe. Or so I thought. But then we arrived in a dark, dingy basement. “Hey, Kyle! Can you watch the kid while I go to class?” she yelled from the door. After a long pause, the door creaked open, and I heard chanting inside. A skinny arm, strung with prayer beads, reached toward me. 03 At first, I thought I’d met a gentle soul, but then I got scared out of my mind. Standing in front of me was a lanky guy in a big, oversized suit, with one eye covered by his hair and thick eyeliner stretching almost to his temple. Most unsettling, he had a ghostly smirk permanently plastered on his face. I let out a wail, shivering from head to toe. My uncle, Kyle Riley, had another name online: “Prince of the Social Media Circle.” Seriously? “Prince” of what now? That name’s just awful. His main “job” was streaming online. Before each broadcast, he’d powder his entire face until he looked like a ghost with painted eyes. Creepy? Yes. But at least it meant safety for me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get any sleep before a call came through. On the other end, a girl named Stacey Sweet was sobbing. “Prince, someone’s picking on me and calling himself the true big shot of the Circle! You have to come!” I had a bad feeling about this, but Kyle packed all his beads, looking like a vendor at a flea market, and bolted out the door with me in his arms. Before long, we pulled up to a spa downtown. I got plopped in the bike basket and watched Kyle march over to a girl in a frilly dress. “Stacey, who made you cry? I’ll make him pay!” Then some rich-looking guys with designer clothes swaggered over. “Yo, so you’re the Circle’s big shot?” Kyle didn’t say a word. He just pressed his palms together and chuckled. “No, I… I’ve renounced it all, for Stacey’s sake.” “You sound like a broken record, man.” They burst into laughter and shoved him. Big mistake. The guy who pushed him yelped in pain, clutching his hand. Kyle’s arm was covered with dozens of bracelets, and his calm gaze looked almost monk-like. 04 I was dying inside. What’s he doing, acting all tough with those skinny arms? One punch, and he’d go down harder than a sack of flour. And sure enough, they all closed in on him, ready to fight. He wobbled on his feet from lack of food and promptly passed out. “Did this guy just fake a faint?” The rich kids were panicked. Meanwhile, Stacey threw herself to the ground, opened a nearby bottle of beer, and poured it over her head, screaming, “I swear on love, without you, I’ll die alone!” She made a finger-gun gesture, mimed shooting herself, and collapsed dramatically on top of him. I stood there, completely speechless, while onlookers burst out laughing. Did they think if they couldn’t beat him up, they’d just awkward him to death? The rich kids laughed it off and walked away, but not before hitting Kyle’s scooter and sending it crashing. I spun out as my vision blurred, and the system popped up again: [Game Over! Cause of Death: 360-degree spin with liftoff.] This survival game is a nightmare. Is making it out of this madness a requirement to be born here? I made a plan and braced myself for the next reset. When Stacey’s call came again, I threw myself off the stool, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Kyle, startled but still sane enough, took me to the local clinic, and by the time he called Stacey back, she’d already gone home. Not long after, Lisa came back. 05 This time, she brought home a woman in her forties. The system informed me this was Lisa’s stepmother, Janet Reed. With one look of disgust, Janet snatched me up to leave. As soon as I saw daylight, I realized Lisa had a fresh handprint on her cheek. After winding through a fancy neighborhood, someone greeted us from below: “Well, if it isn’t Lisa! Came home with your mom for dinner?” Lisa snapped, “She’s not my mom!” Embarrassed, Janet stomped into the house and gave her another slap as soon as they were inside. “If I’m not your mom, don’t come running to me for help with your kid!” Janet’s words only fueled Lisa’s anger, and she clenched her fists, hissing back, “Don’t mistake my patience for kindness. You try pushing me, and I’ll bring my crew to teach you a lesson.” Janet faltered, finally sitting down with a sigh. “Lisa, we’re only trying to help. Look at yourself—you’re young and pretty now, but who’ll want you later? Your dad already found you a man who’s giving a $10,000 dowry, and we’ve got it set aside for you.” “Forget about the kid; nobody needs to know. You can just get married and move on.” At that, Lisa burst into tears. “I’m not marrying! My guy’s getting out of prison soon!” “You keep the kid, fine, but there’ll be no wedding. Force me again, and I’ll die before I go through with it!” Janet rolled her eyes, groaning, before heading off to make dinner. 06 Janet Reed whipped up a whole spread of food in no time, even mixing up a bottle for me. That was the first full meal I’d had since… well, ever. For a second, I thought maybe life in this hellhole was finally looking up. Then, out of nowhere, the system chimed in my head: Game Over! Cause of Death: Poison. “…?” I didn’t even have a chance to react before I saw Lisa, gulping down her food, suddenly collapse. Janet stood over her with a sick grin, chuckling darkly. “You thought you’d get to call the shots here?” Wait—was she pulling a Breaking Bad on us? What the actual—?! I immediately reset, starting back at the moment I’d walked in. This time, right as Janet tried to feed me, I head-butted her hand, and burst into loud, wailing cries. “Why is this brat suddenly screaming?” Janet snapped, annoyed, and tried to pass me back to Lisa. Taking my chance, I flopped down onto the table and knocked everything I could reach onto the floor, plates shattering all around me. Lisa turned to grab a rag from the kitchen, but her eyes fell on an open bottle sitting on the table. “Isn’t this… poison?! Were you trying to kill us?” Janet’s face turned stony as she stood there, her fake kindness crumbling. “Oh, come on. Did you really think I’d raise your kid for you? I may have my standards, but they aren’t that low.” “When your dad comes home, the kid’s done for anyway. I was just making things easier.” I almost wet myself from fear, but thank goodness this time Lisa didn’t try to “fight it out.” She grabbed me and bolted, muttering darkly as we ran, “I don’t deal with monsters.” For once, Lisa made a smart move. That night, she packed us up and moved out, bringing Uncle Kyle along with us. As night fell, the system gave me a new notification: Congratulations! You’ve survived Day One. Reward: Fast-forward one year.

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After my car accident, I decided to feign amnesia to mess with my husband and son. “Who are you?” I asked. A glint of amusement flashed in my son’s eyes as he brought a woman from outside the hospital room and said, “Ma’am, my parents and I are just here to visit.” My husband stood silent beside him, implicitly approving of his son’s little game. 1 “Ma’am, my parents and I are just here to visit,” my son’s soft, innocent voice echoed in the hospital room. With a bandage wrapped around my forehead, I looked down at my five-year-old son, Evan Blake, holding onto two hands, a mischievous grin on his face. My husband, Lucas Blake, standing beside me in his perfectly tailored suit, looked at me with an intense, searching gaze, but didn’t correct our son’s choice of words. The woman Evan held onto wore a long, flowing white dress. She looked elegant and gentle but turned slightly flustered when I stared at her, tucking her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. When Evan noticed my attention on Annie Wynn, he quickly stepped forward, positioning himself protectively between me and Annie, his “mother figure.” If I were truly suffering from amnesia, I might actually believe I was watching a perfectly happy family of three. Evan tugged on Lucas’s hand, whispering, “Dad, now that Mom’s lost her memory, can you finally get divorced?” Though he spoke in a whisper, he made sure I could hear him clearly. I knew his little trick—he was punishing me because yesterday I’d scolded him, embarrassing him in front of the housekeeper. He’d been angry, so this was his payback. This was how Evan enjoyed himself—making me the target of his pranks. But I had no intention of playing his game any longer. Since I’d claimed memory loss, I might as well keep going. I’d pretend there was no son, no husband. “Excuse me… who are you?” Evan looked at me, shocked and slightly flustered. “You really don’t remember me? You can’t forget me—I’m the kid you love most…” Lucas furrowed his brows, his cold gaze growing even frostier, his voice laced with annoyance. “Nina Shaw, stop acting. The doctor said it’s just a minor concussion, not serious. Don’t think you can pretend to have amnesia to get out of a divorce.” Evan chimed in, his little face scrunched up with displeasure, echoing Lucas’s impatience. “Yeah, stop pretending! You love us too much to ever forget us!” I was starting to feel a headache forming. Before I could reply, a nurse knocked on the door. “The patient needs rest,” she announced firmly. “Please, all non-family members, step outside.” Without a word, Lucas and Evan turned and left with Annie trailing after them. The young nurse entered, glancing back at them and said, “Your husband was here earlier—he just stepped out to grab some soup for you.” “My… husband?” My mind stalled a bit. Wasn’t my husband just escorted out by you? The nurse blinked in surprise. “Yes, he’s very handsome, I remember him from four years ago when I worked in obstetrics. He never left your side then; he always waited outside so attentively during your prenatal checkups.” She continued, “We all thought he was one of the rare ones—tall, kind, attentive, and not once on his phone. We actually started to believe in love again, thanks to him.” She paused, then laughed a little. “By the way, who are those two? They’re good-looking, but they looked like they were here to collect a debt or something.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. During all fourteen of my prenatal checkups, Lucas hadn’t come once. The man who had always been by my side was my younger half-brother, Chris Shaw, who was only eighteen at the time. I didn’t bother explaining my relationship with Lucas and Evan—soon enough, it wouldn’t matter. Moments later, Chris came in with a food container, slightly out of breath. My stomach growled at the sight; I hadn’t eaten all day, and the hunger pangs had turned to pain. Chris carefully opened the container, setting out the soup, napkins, water, and spoon with meticulous care. “It’s warm water, and your favorite congee with pork and egg. Eat up—I’ll peel the egg for you.” Ever since I first met Chris at fifteen, he’d been a steady, dependable presence. With a few bites, my stomach finally settled. When I looked up, I noticed his eyes were red, his lips trembling as he spoke with a hint of a quiver. “When I heard you’d been in a car accident… I was scared to death.” I felt a pang of warmth, a bittersweetness welling up. Who wouldn’t be terrified of a car crash? I’d been lucky, at least, not to be badly hurt. I’d thought I’d give Lucas and Evan a little scare, to make them laugh by pretending to lose my memory. But a person without a heart… well, how could they feel worry? 2 A few days later, I was discharged from the hospital. I told the doctors firmly that, aside from Lucas and Evan, I remembered everyone and everything else just fine. The doctor explained to Lucas that my memory loss was only temporary, caused by the concussion, and that I’d gradually regain full recollection. Back in Lucas’s house, I climbed the stairs, ignoring the cheerful piano melody coming from the living room. Evan and Annie were playing a duet, and when they finished, Annie gave him a proud thumbs-up. “Our little pianist, you’re amazing!” Evan blushed and grinned. “It’s because you’re such a good teacher!” The perfect picture of a loving mother and child. Without a word, I continued up the stairs, watching Evan’s smile vanish when he noticed me. Annie quickly stood up. “Mrs. Blake, how are you feeling?” Standing on the staircase, I nodded politely. “I’m nearly recovered. Please, carry on.” I didn’t dislike Annie—I envied her. She wasn’t a third party in my marriage. No, she was Lucas’s unforgettable first love. Though I had married Lucas, the truth remained: the unloved one is the real outsider. Lucas had first fallen for her at eighteen. And last month, when Wynn Corporation declared bankruptcy, Annie had returned. Her entire savings had gone toward covering her family’s debt, and her music degree wasn’t much help for finding high-paying work in the States. So, Lucas had made her Evan’s piano teacher at a monthly rate of $60,000. 3 “New Mom is the best! I love my New Mom!” Evan’s loud voice echoed through the living room. “Evan, I’m not—don’t call me that,” Annie replied, visibly uncomfortable. Evan wasn’t pleased with her response. Wrapping his little arms around her leg, he said, “If you keep calling me ‘Evan,’ I’ll get mad. You need to call me ‘Evie’! You’re so much nicer than my mom—I like you the best!” He glanced upstairs toward my room, ensuring I wasn’t there, then continued, “Can you just move in here? I’d love to see you first thing every morning. Dad said it’s fine, and our house is so big! You could have anything you want here.” Lucas had indeed offered Annie to stay in our house to save her the trouble of commuting, but she had politely declined, opting instead to rent a place. “Evan, you need to practice today’s piece,” Annie reminded him gently. He shook his head, determined to have her stay. “Are you scared of my mom? Don’t worry, Dad and I will protect you. She’d do anything Dad says—she wouldn’t dare do anything to you.” Evan knew exactly what to say to jab at my weak points. I put on my pearl earrings, moving deliberately as I walked downstairs. Annie looked visibly uncomfortable as I approached. “Annie, why don’t you stay here?” I said. “I know you spend hours on the bus every day. Don’t worry—you’re more than welcome.” Evan looked stunned, caught off guard. Usually, if Lucas drunkenly uttered Annie’s name, I’d tear up. I suppose he thought he’d found the perfect weapon to punish me. But today, his weapon seemed to have lost its sting. “I want ice cream!” Evan demanded. “Get me two, no—ten of them!” The only response was the sound of the door closing behind me. After days of looking a mess in the hospital, I needed a skincare session. A driver was already waiting for me outside. As the door clicked shut, Evan’s expression crumbled. “Sir, here’s the ice cream,” the housekeeper said, retrieving it from the freezer. “Who said I wanted it?” He threw the ice cream to the floor, his eyes fixed on the closed door. Could Mom really not remember him? 4 When Lucas’s mother, Laura Blake, learned that Annie had returned to the States and was teaching Evan piano, she wasted no time in bringing over bags of high-end gifts. She settled on the sofa beside Annie, taking her hand in a show of affection. “Annie, my dear,” she said warmly. “You’ve been through so much. Just think, if only you and Lucas had ended up together from the start, then Wynn Corporation would’ve had him to manage it. You wouldn’t be in this position now.” Annie’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Laura, that’s not something we can say now. It’s all in the past, and I’m grateful Lucas offered me work.” “Why shouldn’t I say it?” Laura gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “With you teaching Evan, I’m so at ease. And, you know, Lucas is filing for divorce. Surely you realize what that means?” She lowered her voice, adding, “Don’t worry, darling. Evan adores you, and so do I. You’d never feel out of place with us. Besides, Lucas has every intention of helping Wynn Corporation get back on its feet.” Though Laura knew I was home, she hadn’t informed me of her visit, so I stayed out of their way, listening from afar. Both Lucas and Evan liked Annie, and clearly, so did his mother. From the very beginning, Laura had wanted Annie as her daughter-in-law. Annie came from a sophisticated, well-established family, a perfect match for the Blakes. And the moment Lucas had met her, he’d been smitten. Laura was thrilled, quickly making arrangements for their marriage. Unfortunately for them, Annie hadn’t shared Lucas’s feelings. She’d rejected his confession and left to study music abroad. Laura, though disappointed, respected Annie’s independence, admiring her ambition and sense of self. As for me, from a small, ordinary family, I’d been labeled vain and ambitious, supposedly marrying Lucas for wealth. Laura’s restraint kept her from making her disdain obvious, but I could sense her disapproval. Sometimes, I wondered if Annie had married Lucas from the start, maybe everyone would have been much happier. 5 A buzzing noise jolted me from my thoughts—a notification that my insurance payout from the accident had finally come in. I’d thought the accident would be a distant memory over time, but closing my eyes brought everything back as if it had just happened. It was pouring rain that night, and Lucas and I were driving on the highway when he took a call. I could hear the voice on the other end clearly: “Mr. Blake, we’ve got a group of debt collectors causing trouble at the Wynn residence. They’re harassing Miss Wynn.” Lucas shot a quick glance my way. I knew he wasn’t asking for my opinion—he was telling me he intended to go to Annie’s. I was silent as he turned onto the road that led us farther from home and closer to the Wynn residence. “Just drop me at the next rest area. I’ll get a cab,” I told him softly. Once I got out, even with an umbrella, I was soaked within seconds. Lucas sped off in his black Bentley, splashing water in my face as he disappeared. That was when I felt it—the rusted-out feeling of love, washed clean in the rain. The old taxi I’d hailed started slipping on the slick highway. When the car spun out, my heart lurched, and I instinctively tightened the seatbelt across my chest. My mind blanked, but my pulse hammered in my ears. With a deafening crash, my head slammed against the window. For a brief, stretched-out moment, time seemed to slow down, and my life unspooled before me—all of it tied to Lucas. At ten, my parents had stretched their finances to buy a house in New York’s wealthiest neighborhood. They’d encouraged me to get close to Lucas, their “little prince of the city.” I was enchanted by his good looks and followed him around for seven years. At seventeen, I realized I was in love with him, though he despised me. I spent a year pining after him, enduring insults from his social circle as they mocked me for my “pathetic crush.” I’d hear whispers of “the clown girl,” echoing wherever I went. At eighteen, Lucas met Annie. I watched him fall head over heels and later fall into despair when she left. At twenty-one, he’d gotten drunk and pulled me close, kissing me passionately. But he kept murmuring Annie’s name between kisses. I should have pushed him away, slapped him even. But my father’s business was struggling, and our family needed money. And—well, being with Lucas was something both my parents and I had long wished for. So I let him hold me, enduring each time he’d say her name while he held me. When his grandfather found out, he’d insisted Lucas marry me to protect the family’s reputation. And I got my wish—I married Lucas Blake. At twenty-two, I was pregnant. The baby gave me terrible morning sickness, and labor was a nightmare. … Memories—painful, knotted memories. When I woke up, I was lying in the hospital, every part of me sore and my head splitting. Now, at twenty-seven, my son was calling another woman “Mom,” and my husband didn’t seem to care. I pretended to be unfazed, but each moment felt like a thousand tiny cuts, reminding me of the reality I was clinging to. The people I couldn’t bear to lose were eagerly waiting for me to leave. Maybe happiness was never meant to be mine. “Would you ever lash out at someone you loved?” I wanted to ask Lucas and Evan that question. But I already knew the answer from the way they looked at Annie. Lucas had fallen in love with her the moment they met. Evan, too, had taken to her instantly, showing affection he’d never shown for anyone else. People become fixated on their first choice, the thing they fell for at first sight. Evan was more and more like his father each day, from his looks to his habits, even his temperament. They both adored Annie. I never considered Annie the “other woman.” From the beginning, it was I who had taken what was hers. They say pain comes from chasing the wrong things. This marriage was over. It was time to return Lucas and Evan to Annie. 6 Lucas had prepared the divorce papers the same day Annie came back to town. He’d been wanting this for a while, eager to pursue her once more. Just as he’d hoped, I called the family lawyer and arranged to meet at Lucas’s office. “I agree to the divorce,” I said calmly, meeting Lucas’s gaze. He looked a bit startled. The lawyer, Mr. Hepburn, handed each of us a copy of the divorce agreement. I quickly signed my name on the dotted line, my pen making swift, clean strokes across the page. When it was Lucas’s turn, he hesitated, his fingers gripping the pen until they turned white. Mr. Hepburn spoke up gently, “Mr. Blake, perhaps you’d like to take more time to consider before signing.” I knew what Lucas was feeling. Maybe even a pet, after years together, could create some attachment. And here I was, after sixteen years, someone who had always followed close behind him. “I’ll take custody of Evan,” he said, his gaze testing me. I nodded. I wanted neither of them. Lucas gave me one last, searching look, as if he were trying to find a glimmer of sadness or reluctance in my face. But there was nothing for him to find. With clenched teeth, he pressed the pen down hard, scrawling his name in large, angry letters. Satisfied with the financial division, I gathered my things and left Lucas’s office. The room felt emptier in my absence, and Mr. Hepburn shivered slightly, sensing the frosty aura Lucas left in his wake. “Mr. Blake, should we release a public statement about your divorce?” “No need. She’s just throwing a tantrum.” Lucas’s expression relaxed slightly, seeming almost reassured by his own words. “Keep this quiet. She’ll be back on her own.” After all, she’s only forgotten about me and Evan temporarily. She loves us both so much—she’ll remember soon enough. The doctor did say the amnesia is only temporary. Once she remembers, she’ll be back, probably crying and begging me to take her back. This divorce? Just a way to punish her for forgetting us so completely. Once she returns in tears, I’ll forgive her, and we’ll remarry. Lucas’s anxiety melted away as he took a sip of coffee. Mr. Hepburn, drenched in sweat, dabbed his forehead with a napkin. Divorce papers signed, assets divided, and yet Lucas thought it was just a phase?

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I broke up with my boyfriend of three years. Everyone thought I’d be the first to apologize this time. That is, until I posted my brand new marriage certificate on Instagram. He showed up at my door, crying and begging me to come back. “Lily, haven’t you had enough of this drama?” Jack, my boyfriend – or rather, ex-boyfriend – sat on the couch, his face a mask of impatience. I looked at his irritated expression, a cold smirk playing on my lips. I had caught him red-handed, dancing intimately with his childhood sweetheart at a bar. Yet he had the audacity to accuse me of making a fuss over nothing. Fine, I thought. If he wanted drama, I’d give him a show. He was nothing but a philandering dog, and I was sick of him! “I’ve told you, Rose and I are just friends. You’ve already embarrassed me in front of my friends. What more do you want?” he said. “Whatever. Think what you like,” I replied. His phone screen lit up, interrupting his tirade of accusations and complaints. I watched him get up and head to the bathroom. I followed quietly, and sure enough, Rose’s coy voice drifted out, “Jack, she’s not giving you a hard time, is she?” “Of course not,” Jack replied, his voice unusually gentle and patient – a tone he never used with me. I listened to Rose’s giggles floating out of the bathroom as I started packing my things. Damn it, what a pair of cheaters. As if I’d ever want him back! I sent Jack a breakup text and blocked him. The conversation in the bathroom paused for a couple of seconds before resuming as if nothing had happened. Huh, he always acted so confident around me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. After all, I had been madly in love with him since freshman year, willingly playing the role of his doormat. All those years of washing his sports gear, buying him drinks and gifts – it was like pouring water into the Pacific Ocean. Now, even when I suggested breaking up, he seemed completely indifferent. The laughter continued in the bathroom as I quietly left the apartment with my suitcase, finally escaping this prison. As soon as I got in my car, my phone exploded with notifications from the group chat. Jack’s buddies were tagging me relentlessly. “Lily, playing the runaway game again?” “How many times has this been now?” “If you ask me, you should grow a backbone. If you’re leaving, don’t come crawling back to Jack. Save yourself from another dramatic exit.” “Ha! As if she could ever let go of Jack.” Their mocking laughter hit me like a slap in the face. I stared at the screen coldly, quickly typing out a reply, “As you and Jack wish, we’re done for good. Goodbye.” I left the group immediately after sending the message. Jack’s friends had created this group chat specifically to mock me, though they had their own separate group for real communication. Even though I knew their intentions, I had pathetically joined the group just to catch a glimpse of Jack’s occasional messages. Later, they added Rose to the group, and Jack’s messages became more frequent. I found myself consumed by jealousy, desperately searching for any hint that he might love me in his messages. Sadly, there were none. Instead, his chats with Rose grew increasingly flirtatious, with no regard for my feelings whatsoever. As my best friend would say, I had become obsessed, poisoned by my feelings for Jack. Looking back now, I realize how ridiculous I had been. Jack didn’t love me. He was never gentle or caring towards me. He certainly never showed any concern or looked after me. He only called me when he needed something, and when he didn’t, he couldn’t even be bothered to say my name. What did I ever see in such a horrible guy? Did I admire his ability to eat, poop, and cause trouble?

I had a small, rundown apartment in the suburbs that my parents had left me. I hadn’t lived there for years, but now it was my only refuge. I spent three hours cleaning every nook and cranny until I was nearly exhausted. After a shower, I noticed a missed call on my phone. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be Jack? But when I unlocked the screen, I saw it was from my best friend, Samantha. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at myself. Old habits die hard, I guess. I was still foolishly hoping for his call, while he was probably having a great time with Rose. I was about to call Samantha back when her call came through again. “Lily, did you have another fight with Jack? Why bother? You’ll end up crawling back to him anyway, crying your eyes out.” Samantha’s words cut deep. Standing by the window, I shivered in the cold breeze. “It’s really over this time. We won’t be getting back together.” Samantha hesitated for a moment. “Really? What if he gets down on his knees and begs you to take him back?” I let out a cold laugh. “I’m not a glutton for punishment. It’s been five years. I’ve finally woken up.” “I don’t believe you!” Samantha exclaimed, then quickly changed the subject. “Unless… you come to our high school reunion tomorrow.” I was puzzled. “…” What did that have to do with anything? Samantha scoffed. “I knew you weren’t serious about breaking up.” I sighed. “…Fine, I’ll be there tomorrow, dressed to the nines. Happy now?” Samantha seemed satisfied. “There’s a surprise waiting for you!” What kind of surprise could there be? I was too tired to guess. “If you keep being mysterious, I’m going to bed.” Samantha quickly spilled the beans. “Your high school crush, Mr. Gu, will be there too.” Those three words jolted me wide awake, my hand tightening around the phone. Mr. Gu was our nickname for him. His real name was Ethan Gray. He was the unattainable dream guy from our innocent high school days, the crush of most of the girls in our school. Smart, handsome, great at basketball, gentle and dignified. Samantha teased, “The whole point of this reunion is to welcome him back to the country. I heard he’s still single, and now you’re single too. Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?” I went to the bathroom and looked at my haggard reflection in the mirror, laughing bitterly. “That’s all in the past.” I hung up and silently applied a face mask.

I was woken up by the glaring sunlight – I had forgotten to close the curtains last night. Looking at my phone, I saw it was already past 10 AM. I stretched my sleep-softened limbs, realizing it had been ages since I’d slept so well. Jack liked to stay up late, often going out drinking with his friends. I would often wake up in the middle of the night to pick him up when he was drunk, take care of him, and then go to work exhausted the next day, missing out on several promotions. “From today on, everything stays in the past. It’s time for a fresh start,” I muttered to myself, my lips curving into a smile. I made myself a simple breakfast of egg noodles in my tiny kitchen. The aroma was inviting, and paired with a glass of milk, I thought I might even regain some of my complexion. Life without Jack wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. To keep myself from overthinking, I went to the nearby supermarket to stock up my fridge. From now on, I’d pack my own lunch for work and wouldn’t have to envy my colleagues anymore. As I passed by a cosmetics store, a sales assistant approached me. “Miss, we have a special offer today. You get a free face mask with every $20 purchase.” I found myself staring at the bold red lipstick on the assistant’s lips. I used to be that vibrant and lively too, but Jack said he preferred me with light makeup, so I stopped buying dark lipsticks. “Miss, this color would look great on your fair skin,” the assistant said enthusiastically. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smile. Seeing that I had bought quite a lot, the assistant offered to do my makeup. I nodded. Since I was already looking good, why not go all out? Instead of rushing to the supermarket, I decided to do some shopping. I bought a white suit, a silk dress to wear underneath, and some knee-high boots. Then I got my long hair cut short and dyed it a light brown with soft waves. It looked pretty good. Today’s shopping spree cost me three months’ salary. They say retail therapy is the best cure for a broken heart. … When Samantha saw me at the hotel entrance, she was shocked and circled around me several times. “Wow, Lily! I expected to see a dejected divorcee, not this! If I had known breaking up would make you look this good, I would have told you to dump that jerk ages ago!” I felt a bit smug. “Not bad, right?” Samantha happily linked her arm with mine and we walked into the private room, grinning. This hotel was one of the top luxury hotels in the city. Jack and I had dined here before. The food was incredibly expensive and required advance reservations. I felt a bit nervous. “Samantha, if we need to split the bill tonight, could you cover for me first? I’ll pay you back when I get my paycheck.” If I had known we were eating here, I would have bought one less outfit. Samantha chuckled. “You don’t know? This hotel belongs to the Gu family. How else do you think our class monitor could book a private room here?” Ethan Gray entered the room surrounded by classmates. He was wearing a light-colored suit with a black knit sweater underneath, and gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Well, now I knew what “gentle and refined” looked like in the flesh. Five years had matured him, his features more chiseled and defined. Just as I looked away, our class monitor joked, “Lily, you’ve become even prettier after all these years. Ethan was just asking if you were coming tonight.” I was startled and looked at Ethan in surprise. Although we had been desk mates in high school, we rarely spoke. He was the golden boy, and I was just an ordinary classmate. Ethan greeted me with a gentle smile. “It’s been a long time, Lily.” His voice was pleasant, deep with a hint of warmth. My heart fluttered a bit, and I politely nodded with a smile. Samantha excitedly squeezed my hand and whispered, “Hey, I think you two have a chance.” Yeah, right. I knew my place. It was okay to have a crush, but showing it would be impolite. I chose a seat near the door, keeping my distance from the group of successful people. Just then, Ethan took a seat too, just two seats away from me.

It had been several years since our last high school reunion, and today was particularly lively. The last to arrive was the class hottie. Despite the cold weather, she wore a sequined gown with a white fur coat and dramatic earrings, looking like she had just stepped off a runway. She had the looks to pull it off, now being a minor internet celebrity. “Wow, our class beauty actually found time to join our reunion!” Several classmates exclaimed excitedly. Quite a few guys had crushed on her back in the day. Her face, now with some “enhancements”, looked even more delicate than before. Her curvaceous figure made even the women’s hearts race. Almost all the guys at the table stood up to greet her, except for Ethan, who remained seated quietly. After greeting everyone, the class hottie walked straight to the seat next to Ethan and said with a smile, “Let’s switch seats, shall we?” The classmate sitting next to Ethan happily gave up his seat. Everyone laughed and teased, but it was nothing new. Everyone knew the class hottie had a thing for Ethan. Ethan just nodded slightly in greeting. the class hottie asked, “Ethan, are you planning to develop your career back home now?” Ethan smiled lightly. “Yes, I’ll be relying on everyone’s help from now on.” Everyone quickly said they wouldn’t dare, knowing that the combined net worth of everyone else in the room probably wouldn’t match even a fraction of his. As the waiters started serving the food, the class hottie downed a glass of red wine and asked with a flushed face, “Ethan, I heard you’re still single. Do you think I have a chance?” Her directness shocked everyone! I was curious too, and looked up just in time to meet his gaze. Ethan took a sip of his wine and said, “I’m sorry, but I already have someone I like.”

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In the seventh year of our marriage, my husband fell in love with a kindergarten teacher and started treating me like dirt. “You’re old and ugly,” he said. “It’s a favor that I haven’t divorced you already.” My son, Connor, would look at me with disgust, saying, “Ms. Rivers is so much kinder than you, Mom. She’s a way better person.” And my parents piled on with their criticism too: “What kind of wife works this much? Work can’t make you a good mother, Julia!” They all kept pressuring me to give up my job, to come home and be the perfect wife and mother they wanted. 1 After wrapping up my business trip, I stopped by Cedar Park Kindergarten with Connor’s favorite bulldozer toy in hand, hoping to surprise him after school. When I got there, a few parents were already gathered, laughing and chatting in small clusters. I stood apart, unfamiliar with any of them, keeping my distance. One of the parents, visibly pregnant, glanced over at me with curiosity—and maybe a hint of suspicion. “Haven’t seen you around before. Which child is yours?” I pushed back my bangs with a smile. “My son’s Connor Hayes. He’s in the oldest class.” The crowd around me exchanged wide-eyed glances, as if I were some kind of rare animal on display. I couldn’t understand why they looked so shocked. I knew I didn’t pick Connor up often, but was it really that big of a surprise for me to be here? “Wait…you’re still around?” The pregnant woman hesitated, then quickly added, “I mean, Connor’s dad usually picks him up. Or sometimes his grandparents…” I guessed that my absence had led to some kind of assumption, and I gave her a polite smile. “My job keeps me busy, so my husband handles most of the pickups.” But even after I’d explained, their stares remained oddly intense, filled with an unsettling curiosity. I felt a hint of discomfort creeping in, and just as I was about to question them, a whole wave of parents arrived, murmuring among themselves and looking me up and down. The school bell rang, and parents poured into the kindergarten building. I joined the crowd, looking around for Connor, and then I spotted him. He was holding hands with a young woman, following her so obediently it nearly melted my heart. “Connor! Over here!” I waved to him, smiling. Connor spotted me and froze, his face registering shock before he clung to the young woman’s sleeve. Balancing on my heels, I walked over, knelt down, and held out the toy bulldozer. “Mom’s home early! I brought your favorite toy. Aren’t you excited?” The young woman’s face drained of color as she saw me. Other teachers nearby quickly stepped in to intercept. “Are you saying you’re Connor’s mother?” they asked, turning to Connor, who hesitated a long while before nodding reluctantly. But even then, the teachers didn’t let me through. They kept questioning me, asking why I was here to pick him up, and even probing into my marriage. I understood their concern, given I was an unfamiliar face, but the more questions they asked, the more riled up they seemed to get. They kept glancing nervously at the young woman with him. My instincts told me something wasn’t right. I decided to cut straight to the point: “Yes, I work a lot and don’t pick Connor up often, but hasn’t he mentioned me?” The teachers shifted uncomfortably. I felt a twinge of sadness but kept it to myself, focusing instead on my son. “Come on, Connor,” I said gently. “How about we go out for a nice dinner?” He wouldn’t come with me, hiding behind the young woman. “I want to wait for Dad to pick me up.” “I’m here, honey. We’ll just tell Dad to meet us at home later.” I coaxed him patiently. “Come on, I even booked your favorite steak place.” 2 But Connor just refused to go with me, and when he started crying loudly, I felt at a loss. I ended up calling my husband. When he realized I’d come home early, he sounded flustered but agreed to come over right away. So I waited, pacing outside the kindergarten, trying to understand how three short days away on business had left such a distance between my son and me. Then I noticed the pregnant woman again, hiding in the shade and sneaking bites of a snack with her little boy. She froze when she saw me watching, so I went over to pat her back. “Easy there, don’t choke,” I said with a small smile. She coughed and thanked me sheepishly, her little boy munching away, looking about Connor’s age. I couldn’t help but ruffle his hair; he looked so adorably stubborn. The woman hesitated before asking, “Connor’s mom, are you and his dad…still together?” What? I might have a busy schedule, but David and I had an arrangement where I focused on work, and he managed the home front. Not the most romantic setup, but it worked for us. I smiled. “I’ve been busy, but that doesn’t mean we’re getting divorced.” “Oh,” she said, voice trembling. “We all just thought…well, since you never showed up, we thought you weren’t…around. So we were kind of, um, encouraging Connor’s dad and Ms. Rivers.” Encouraging them? My mind went blank for a moment. “You mean, my husband and Ms. Rivers have…?” “Yes! We all thought Connor would like Ms. Rivers as a new mom. He even said so himself. So we just tried to help them out,” she explained, her face scrunched in distress. “If we’d known you were still…around, we never would have!” Imagine finding out you were declared dead without anyone telling you. I didn’t know what kind of expression to make. I just stood there in stunned silence until David arrived, holding Connor’s hand with Ms. Rivers right beside him, the three of them looking every bit like a picture-perfect family. I stepped forward and said, “Care for a chat?” 3 I’d always thought of myself as someone with a fair amount of patience. But David’s first reaction upon seeing me was irritation. “Why don’t you just head home first?” he said coldly. Connor echoed his father, “I want to go out with Dad and Ms. Rivers today.” I smiled wryly. “Not including me?” It was as if my own family had replaced me without telling me. I was just the old model, out of the loop. Standing at the kindergarten entrance, a small group of other parents watched us, murmuring among themselves. Ms. Rivers took the chance to flee, and David, or maybe I should say “someone else’s husband,” seethed as he hissed, “Julia, what’s wrong with you today?” What’s wrong with me? After pulling extra hours, all I wanted was to surprise my son. And this was the welcome I got? “I—” I barely started to speak before David yanked me away. I tried to pull back, but he dragged me to the car, shoved me into the back seat, and before I could even sit up, he floored the gas. I lurched forward, smacking my head on the front seat, the impact leaving me momentarily dizzy. Then, I heard Connor’s voice, quiet but scornful. “Serves you right. You shouldn’t bully Ms. Rivers.” My heart skipped a beat. Dazed, I reached up to touch my forehead and felt a sticky warmth on my hand—it was bleeding. Steadying myself, I spoke calmly, “David, take me to St. Mary’s.” He looked back in the rearview mirror and ignored me, keeping his eyes on the road home. At that moment, my anger was replaced by an icy dread. “Do you want a divorce?” I asked, voice cold. “Because you’re sinking pretty low here.” With a screech, he stopped the car on the side of the road, opened my door, and pushed me out. “Be grateful I haven’t divorced you, you washed-up woman.” He sneered, then lowered the window just enough to say, “Now, go cool off.” I pounded on the door, calling for Connor to let me in, but he just looked at me with disdain. “Ms. Rivers is way nicer than you. You deserve this.” Then, father and son sped off, leaving me stranded on the roadside. I ducked to the shoulder, barely avoiding traffic, and dialed for help. One car nearly hit me, and I rolled across its hood. The driver, horrified, immediately called 91

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed at St. Mary’s, the young driver sitting by me, head in his hands, sobbing. Seeing me stir, he jumped up. “You’re awake! Doc, nurse—she’s awake!” “I’m fine,” I assured him, though his relief was so genuine. “You’re innocent here.” He took a deep breath. “That’s good. I thought I’d really messed up.” I looked around the empty room, holding onto a final bit of hope. “The hospital didn’t contact my family?” The young man, probably in his early twenties, scratched his head. “They did, but once they heard it was just some bruises, they hung up.” I managed a bitter smile, tears welling up. What had I done to deserve this? “Please don’t cry, ma’am. You’re alright now.” 4 David and I had met through mutual friends. On paper, we were evenly matched in looks, just enough to feel like we “fit” together. His college degree and career weren’t as promising as mine, but he came from a local family with solid roots—his parents both had pensions and several properties. As for me, my career was on an upward climb, though my own family background wasn’t as secure. Growing up in rural parts with my grandparents while my parents juggled jobs, I never had a strong safety net or any family wealth to speak of. My parents had insisted I find someone close by, and David fit the bill perfectly. David was calm and practical, a great cook and a homebody. Our arrangement made sense: I took on the breadwinning role, while he managed the household. And I thought I did my part well. After Connor’s difficult birth, I poured everything into being a good mom. No matter how busy, I always tried to make time for him, sneaking in short trips or a special family night whenever I could. I even handed over my paycheck, knowing how it might look if people saw a man struggling to get by while raising a child. But somewhere along the line, David and even Connor had drifted away. Even through the heartbreak, I forced myself to think logically. Hiring Brad Maxwell, the private investigator, I finally got the answers I’d been avoiding. For nearly three years, David had been carrying on with Ms. Rivers. I thought I’d been busy, but not so busy I couldn’t be there for school pickup once in a while. David had convinced me I could better use my time preparing dinner while he swung by to get Connor. And on days when I was out of town? He brought Connor and Ms. Rivers together like they were one happy family. And Connor—my son, the one I’d given everything to—was in on the lie. Ms. Rivers was younger, more cheerful, always there when he needed something. Taking a deep breath, I asked Brad, “Does she know?” Brad hesitated, then replied, “I’d say yes. All the gifts David’s bought her were paid with your card.” 5 According to Brad, Ms. Rivers had apparently even checked David’s phone and discovered my existence. But David had spun the story, saying he was divorced and that the card was just for “child support.” As if regular payments could be for child support. She had to know. Giving her the benefit of the doubt one last time, I tracked down her contact information and asked her to meet me. But when I arrived, it wasn’t Ms. Rivers waiting for me; it was David. He walked right up to me and threw coffee in my face. “Julia, enough already! I’m warning you, if you keep messing with Amanda, you’ll regret it.”

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I’m Sweet and Kind in Front of My Boyfriend, But Vicious and Cunning to His Sister I subtly turned this family upside down. Eventually, I drove his sister to jump off a building. In the bitter winter, her crimson blood seeped into the pristine snow. It looked exactly like the scene when my sister died years ago. This was the first time Ryan brought me to meet his parents. Looking at the upscale neighborhood before me, I nervously tugged at his sleeve and asked, “What if your parents don’t like me?” Ryan ruffled my hair reassuringly. “My parents aren’t that picky. Don’t worry, I’m here with you.” With that, he held my hand tightly and walked in. Having lived as a dependent for years, I was adept at reading people’s reactions. I could sense that Ryan’s parents were quite satisfied with me, especially when they saw the gifts I brought. They couldn’t stop praising my thoughtfulness. Ryan chimed in at the right moment: “Dad, Aria knew you’re into tech research, so she specifically bought you the latest Alienware laptop.” “Mom, this bag is from Aria’s business trip to Europe. She went to five different streets to get this new release. It’s not even available in the States yet.” Emma, however, looked at the clothes in her hands and asked confusedly, “What brand is this? Where’s the label?” I explained, “Emma, I heard from your brother that you’ve been into qipaos recently. As I studied fashion design, I thought I’d make one for you myself.” Of course, I had chosen ordinary silk fabric that only cost a few dollars wholesale. Emma frowned slightly, clearly unimpressed. “What’s with that attitude?” Ryan, displeased with his sister’s reaction, spoke up to defend me. “Aria stayed up several nights to make this dress for you. She even hurt her hands!” Emma glanced at her parents’ expensive gifts, then at the cheap item in her hands. She pursed her lips but said nothing more. That night, I deliberately ate two bowls of rice, my stomach aching from being overly full. Yet, I maintained a smile on my face, praising the deliciousness of the meal. “No wonder Ryan grew so tall. It’s not just Mr. Parker’s excellent genes, but also Mrs. Parker’s superb cooking skills.” Mrs. Parker was very pleased with this comment, beaming from ear to ear. She paused for a moment, then added regretfully, “But now Ryan rarely comes home, and Emma is always on about dieting. If only they were like you, I’d have more motivation to cook.” I smiled wryly. “Ryan is just too busy with work, it can’t be helped. But why is Emma on a diet? She’s already so thin! If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to resist Mrs. Parker’s delicious food. Who cares about gaining weight? Health is what matters.” “Exactly! Well said!” Hearing this, Mrs. Parker pointed at Emma, who was flipping through a magazine, and complained, “Look at you, you don’t know how good you have it!” Emma’s face darkened, and she gave me a meaningful look. She wasn’t angry because of the scolding, but because I wasn’t the one being scolded. I smiled. This was nothing compared to what was coming. I’ll never forget that winter night ten years ago. My older sister leaped from the rooftop like a desperate, broken-winged bird, shattering into pieces, her body a bloody mess. She died tragically, but resolutely. That image was etched deep into my bones, leaving me utterly hopeless. It turns out that when people are in extreme pain, they remain silent, unable to make any sound at all. At that moment, I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. I stared blankly as the glaring red gradually became covered by the pristine white snow. My hand loosened, and the bag of candied chestnuts fell to the ground. A few rolled out, crushed under the panicked crowd’s feet, as if they were crushing someone else’s entire life. After our parents died in a car accident, our uncle took responsibility for caring for me and my sister, conveniently taking the compensation money as well. The two sisters lived under someone else’s roof, enduring cold stares. Fortunately, we were both diligent, always at the top of our class. My sister often told me to hang in there, promising that she would give me the best life in the future, and we wouldn’t have to swallow our pride and endure others’ contempt anymore. But for some reason, her grades started plummeting from her junior year of high school. In the end, unable to bear the pressure, she committed suicide by jumping off a building. At the time, this incident even made it to the newspapers, with the theme of caring for the mental health of teenagers. But I always felt something was off. My sister rarely came home as she lived in the school dorms. Her belongings were reluctantly packed up from her dorm room by our aunt and uncle. They put her things in a box. Aunt wouldn’t let me touch it, saying it was unlucky. She was hesitant to throw it away but also fearful of keeping it, so she ended up locking it in the attic. A year later, when I graduated from middle school, my uncle’s family of three went on vacation during the summer break, leaving me the key and telling me to watch the house. I took the opportunity to open the attic door, found the box, and discovered my sister’s diary. It was filled with detailed records of her being bullied. Some of the writing was blurred by tears, but it couldn’t hide the horrifying experiences. It was as if I had opened Pandora’s box. My hands couldn’t stop shaking. The culprit was Emma Parker. She wasn’t from a wealthy family, but her family was well-off. She was pretty and always had a group of followers who obeyed her every command. My sister had excellent grades, but because of her aloof personality and a birthmark on her face, she inexplicably became Emma’s target and a source of amusement during her reckless years. Emma and her gang cornered my sister in the bathroom, stripped her clothes off, and took photos to blackmail her into keeping quiet. In the dorm room, Emma tied up my sister’s hands and feet, gagged her, wrapped her in a quilt, and beat her. Apparently, this was a method used by prison inmates to bully newcomers. It was very painful but didn’t leave visible marks. Emma never tired of it, constantly coming up with new ways to torment her. Putting thumbtacks in her shoes, throwing her backpack in the pool, pouring drinks on her bed… Teenage girls are like apples on early autumn branches, slightly sour but sweet, waiting to ripen and fall. But if a worm gets in, and isn’t removed in time, the rot will only spread until the fruit completely withers. Emma was that worm. Finally, my sister couldn’t take it anymore and sought help from a teacher. But her classmates all said Emma was cheerful and generous, and had never bullied anyone. The matter was dismissed. Things seemed to calm down for a while. Little did we know, it was just the calm before the avalanche. One night, as my sister was dozing off, she was suddenly tied up and gagged. When the lights came on, it was Emma’s sweet yet vicious smile. Her followers surrounded them. Emma held an electric shaver in her hand. The buzzing sound was like a demon’s whisper, beating against every nerve in my sister’s scalp. Chunks of black hair fell, stripping away her last shred of dignity. Emma stroked my sister’s bald head, very satisfied. But it wasn’t over. She produced a thick iron chain from somewhere and put it around my sister’s neck, laughing wildly, boasting that this was her pet dog. Then she took out her phone and video called her brother. The camera was pointed at my sister. The siblings critiqued my sister’s appearance, their words like cold knives stabbing into her organs. Through the screen, my sister heard Ryan’s deep, contemptuous voice. He said, “What an obedient dog. I’ve taken a screenshot, I’ll share it with the boys.” “Wait,” Emma added, “Bro, I have even better photos here, the kind where she’s not wearing anything. I’ll send them to you.” She looked at my sister, raising her eyebrows triumphantly: “I warned you before not to talk nonsense, but you were just too disobedient.” The mocking laughter never ceased, successfully breaking down my sister’s last psychological defense. After that, rumors spread throughout the class, saying she was dirty, so dirty that she had lice in her hair. Everyone avoided her, building an invisible wall three feet away, standing on top of it to point and whisper. Even the places she walked and the things she used had to be sprayed with disinfectant. She started having frequent nightmares, couldn’t rest well, her grades plummeted, and she often had hallucinations, her mental state becoming abnormal. I remember when my sister came home one weekend, she looked at me quietly, her bright eyes clearly reflecting my image. At that moment, it was as if I was her entire world. I froze and asked, “Sis… where’s your hair?” “It was so itchy, itchy to the point that my heart and lungs were burning with discomfort, so I shaved it off.” She caressed my cheek with a loving expression. I was about to say something when I heard our aunt’s impatient voice from the living room: “Which one of you is going out to buy groceries? Two extra mouths to feed out of nowhere, and not a bit of consideration!” Hearing this, my sister smiled at me gently, took out five dollars, and said, “You go. And buy a bag of candied chestnuts while you’re at it. I know you’ve been craving them.” “Okay, we’ll eat them together when I get back!” I ran hurriedly, wanting to come back and have a good heart-to-heart with my sister. Little did I know, that would be our final goodbye. I never forgot Emma Parker. Nor did I forget her brother who aided and abetted her. Apparently, he was the campus heartthrob at his university. I found his photo on the school website and learned about his post-graduation whereabouts from the forum. I closely followed his social media accounts and went to great lengths to guess his preferences. In my junior year of college, I interned at Ryan’s company, deliberately getting close to him, creating an image of a Mary Sue protagonist from a poor background, orphaned, but excellent in academics and working part-time jobs, refusing to bow to fate. Little did he know, I was following a revenge script. I was pretty, smart, and had a good personality. I quickly caught Ryan’s attention and made him actively pursue me. I didn’t love him, so I could also keep him in check. In the second year of our relationship, I proposed breaking up, saying I had fallen for someone else. Ryan didn’t believe it. He started following me. When I returned to the old neighborhood and deliberately provoked my aunt to get angry, deliberately forcing her to lay hands on me, with my cries echoing in the alley, Ryan kicked the door open. He played the role of a hero saving the damsel in distress. At that time, I was covered in bruises. I bit my lip, tears in my eyes, looked at him, and said word by word: “You should go. I don’t want to drag you down.” I had practiced this expression in front of the mirror countless times, not missing a single detail. Even the loose strands of hair falling on my forehead added a touch of beauty to the scene. Pitiful and helpless. Like a desperate and helpless little deer. Ryan’s eyes were full of heartache. He reached out and hugged me, saying firmly: “Don’t say such nonsense. As long as I’m here, no one can bully you.” I buried my face in his chest, the corners of my mouth slightly curled up. The fish had taken the bait. Later, that sentence would come true for Emma. That night, there was a heavy rainstorm with thunder and lightning. I stayed at Ryan’s place. The next day, however, I found a qipao in the kitchen trash can, cut to pieces. My shoulders trembled slightly, and I looked at Emma in disbelief. She explained nervously: “I didn’t cut it! I just threw…” Her voice trailed off. Emma lowered her head guiltily. She had never liked the gift and didn’t think much of me, so she was naturally eager to throw it away. At the time, the qipao was still covered by a pile of fruit peels and paper scraps. I had secretly dug it out in the middle of the night and cut it to pieces myself. Ryan shouted angrily at Emma: “You’ve gone too far! No manners at all!” Hmph, manners? The pot calling the kettle black. I suppressed the cold mockery in my heart, my eyes slightly red, head lowered, and said to Emma in an almost humble tone: “I’m sorry, I didn’t consider it properly this time. I’ll get you something else next time, as an apology.” Ryan was extremely distressed. He put his arm around me and said angrily: “What apology? If anything, she should be apologizing to you!” Mrs. Parker was also disappointed: “Child, how come you’re getting more and more ill-mannered as you grow up? It was Aria’s heartfelt gift after all!” Emma was stunned, feeling wronged. Under Ryan’s stern rebuke, she very reluctantly apologized to me. On the way back, Ryan looked guilty: “Emma has been spoiled by the family, doing whatever she wants. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” I shook my head: “This little grievance is nothing to me. Besides, your sister is just a bit spoiled, but she’s not bad-hearted. Ryan, you don’t need to blame her too much.” Ryan stroked my cheek, his eyes filled with even more guilt. After that, I often visited Mrs. Parker. I was always courteous and never empty-handed. When she cooked, I helped cut vegetables. After meals, I took the initiative to wash dishes. I found various ways to praise her culinary skills, invited her to go shopping and watch plays on weekends, shared trivial matters around me, and health tips I saw online. From time to time, I would sigh: “It feels so good to have a mom around.” Every time Mrs. Parker heard this, she couldn’t help but sigh, then hold my hand affectionately and say, “Aria, from now on, you’re a member of the Parker family.” I’m not stupid. I’m not Mrs. Parker’s child, how could she truly care about me? She was just too lonely. Ryan and Emma had grown up and had their own lives. Mr. Parker was a university professor, always either writing papers or doing experiments. Mrs. Parker was getting on in years, with no friends and no social life. She just hoped to have someone to keep her company. Occasionally when we went shopping and met sweet-talking salespeople, they would enthusiastically praise: “Ma’am, you’re so blessed. Your daughter is beautiful and filial, buying you so many things.” It didn’t matter, I was using Ryan’s card anyway. At first, Mrs. Parker would explain that I was her daughter-in-law, but soon, she just smiled and accepted it. One day, I was carrying bags of shopping with Mrs. Parker when we returned home. We turned on the lights to find Emma looking displeased. She quickly glanced at me, then looked at Mrs. Parker, her expression aggrieved, and asked, “Mom, today is my birthday. Do you remember?” There was a birthday cake on the table. The candles had already gone out. Mr. Parker was out of town for an academic conference. Ryan was also away on a business trip and couldn’t return anytime soon. Emma had recently broken up with her boyfriend and had a falling out with her best friend. In the empty house, there was only one forgotten birthday girl. Mrs. Parker was stunned. She had clearly forgotten. But I remembered. That’s why I deliberately took Mrs. Parker to see a comedy show she liked, and deliberately bought tickets for the late show. I smiled and said to Emma, “Of course we remembered. That’s why Mom specifically took me shopping today to buy you lots of new clothes.” Mrs. Parker came to her senses and hurriedly said, “Yes, yes, Emma, try them on quickly.” She looked at me with disgust and asked, “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to interfere in matters between my mother and me? What, you don’t have a mom so you’re trying to steal someone else’s?” Mrs. Parker’s face changed. She frowned, “Emma! How can you talk like that!” Hearing this, I silently put down the bags. As I bent down, I bit my tongue hard, immediately causing tears to flow. When I raised my head again, it was a face streaked with tears. I sniffled and said in a choked voice, “Emma, I know you don’t like me, but shouldn’t there be at least some basic respect? Besides, your birthday is also the day your mother went through hardship to give birth to you. If you can’t be grateful, at least don’t blame your elders, right?” With that, I ignored Mrs. Parker who wanted to wipe my tears and left directly. That night, Ryan called. His voice was lazy as he asked, “Honey, where did you and mom go play today?” I didn’t say anything. I just kept sniffling. There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then his tone became serious: “Are you crying?” I let out a long sigh and said chokingly, “No, I just watched a pretty heartbreaking movie.” “What’s it called?” “… I don’t remember.” Ryan wanted to say something more, but I interrupted him: “Ryan, I’m a bit tired. I’m going to sleep now.” I immediately turned off my phone. The next morning, Ryan appeared at my doorstep. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, clearly he hadn’t slept all night. I put on a surprised expression: “Why did you come back?” Ryan reached out and hugged me, saying guiltily, “Aria, Mom told me everything.” “I scolded Emma harshly. That girl is really hateful. She’s three years older than you, yet not even half as good as you.” I said helplessly, “Let it go, I won’t hold it against her. But Ryan, I was really embarrassed yesterday. I left without saying goodbye to your mom. I feel bad about it now. I want to buy her a necklace.” “It’s okay, my mom feels like she owes you an apology instead.” I pursed my lips and said nothing. Ryan tapped my nose. “Why don’t we buy two necklaces? One for each of you.” He increased the credit limit on his card. I bought two identical diamond necklaces, which were quite expensive. When I gave it to Mrs. Parker, I said, “Mom, as they say, ‘a child’s birth is a mother’s ordeal.’ This is my heartfelt thought. From now on, whenever it’s Ryan’s or Emma’s birthday, I’ll prepare a gift for you too.” She was so moved after hearing this that she couldn’t help but say, “If only Emma was half as thoughtful as you.” On the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone gathered for a meal. When Emma saw her mother and me wearing matching necklaces, her face turned extremely cold. It wasn’t hard to see that she was eating this meal with a heavy heart. But my appetite was excellent. Mr. Parker was a man of few words. I heard that he was single-mindedly devoted to his research, hoping to win a Nobel Prize in his lifetime, and never cared about anything else. Sure enough, Mr. Parker hurriedly ate a few bites and then left, heading straight for the university laboratory. After the meal, Mrs. Parker suddenly had the urge to show me Ryan’s childhood photos. I smiled and played along for a few sentences, then said, “Mom, I’d like to see Emma’s photos too. She’s so beautiful, she must have been pretty since she was little.” No mother dislikes others praising her children. She hurriedly took out another photo album, explaining as she flipped through it, finally coming to Emma’s high school years. There were two group photos. One was from freshman orientation, and one was from just before graduation. My sister wasn’t in the latter. She originally had a bright future ahead of her, but was forever stuck at seventeen. Mrs. Parker was still chattering on, boasting that Emma often received love letters from boys in high school. Ryan came back from smoking on the balcony and heard this. He sneered, “Emma even chased after the sports representative in her class back then, but unfortunately, he liked the class monitor and rejected her.” Mrs. Parker was surprised, “Oh my, I didn’t know about this. Looks like you two siblings kept quite a few secrets from me.” Ryan’s lips curled into a smile as he continued, “And that class monitor was an ugly girl with a weird personality. It really pissed off your precious daughter at the time.” My sister… was the class monitor. So there was this layer of history. Whether it was suicidal thoughts or jealousy, the impulsiveness of youth was like a bolt of lightning during a tribulation. My sister didn’t dodge it, but Emma successfully cultivated herself. As if on cue, she came out of the shower, drying her wet hair, and said disdainfully, “Just thinking about that short-lived ghost makes me feel unlucky.” I struggled to steady my trembling voice and asked, “Short-lived ghost?” Mrs. Parker suddenly remembered, “Oh, that girl who committed suicide by jumping off a building because her grades dropped? Tsk tsk, with such poor ability to handle pressure, she wouldn’t have amounted to much in society anyway.” Emma sneered, “Mom, you can tell just by looking at her face. Your face reflects your heart, and she had a birthmark on her face, proving her heart was dark too.” What absurd logic! I looked at Emma and raised an eyebrow, “So, you knew her well?” Emma’s face flashed with discomfort. She shrugged, “Anyway, the whole class disliked her.” Then she looked at Ryan meaningfully and said, “In the past, when someone upset me, my brother would always stand on my side. Now it’s different.” Ryan seemed to think of something, his expression stiffened, and he didn’t speak anymore. I lowered my eyes, caressing my sister’s face in the photo, and calmly said, “This girl must have been bullied a lot in class.” Mrs. Parker didn’t seem to care much, “Well, she should look for reasons within herself. Why bully her and not others?” …Well, it’s parents like this that raise children like that. Emma said coldly, “That’s right. Anyway, she deserved to die. If she were alive, she’d just be wasting social resources. She might as well be reborn as a dog.” I took a deep breath, barely suppressing the hatred surging in my heart. Emma suddenly said, “Aria, actually, I have something to give you. It’s in my room.” This caught me by surprise. Once in the bedroom, Emma took out a brand new bottle of perfume. She smiled maliciously, leaned close to me, and said in a low voice, “Use it generously. It might cover up your slutty and poor smell.” Oh, so she called me to the room just to say this. Since that’s the case, I couldn’t let her kindness go to waste. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. Emma couldn’t bear this insult. After a moment of shock, she angrily said, “You dare to hit me!” With that, she went crazy, grabbing my hair and banging my head against the wardrobe repeatedly. I didn’t fight back. The commotion was loud. Mrs. Parker and Ryan rushed in, quickly pulling her away. Ryan shielded me and shouted, “Emma Parker, what the fuck is wrong with you!” Mrs. Parker was also furious, “Emma, how could you hit someone!” Emma pointed at the red mark on her face and cried, “Aria hit me first! I was being kind and giving her perfume, thinking that since we’re going to be family, we should get along. But who knew she wouldn’t appreciate it and even mocked the gift for being cheap! Mom, do you think I would slap myself?” “This…” Mrs. Parker looked at me in confusion. I wiped the blood from my forehead and nodded, “That’s right, I hit her first, and I did say the gift was cheap.” Under Emma’s astonished gaze, I raised my face and said solemnly, “It’s not my fault that my parents died. I’m not a harbinger of doom like you say, nor did I ever intend to bring misfortune to your family.” At this point, I became increasingly choked up, “You try to get rid of me with a bottle of perfume and tell me to get lost. Who could bear such humiliation?” I looked at Ryan, tears streaming down my face, “Ryan, I’m not a harbinger of doom. I want to have parents too…” Emma was stunned, hurriedly trying to explain, “She’s lying! I didn’t say she was a harbinger of doom! I didn’t…” “Slap!” This time, it was Ryan who hit her. He hit her hard, causing her to fall to the ground, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Emma held her face, looking at Ryan in disbelief, “Brother… you hit me?” “You’d rather believe an outsider than your own sister?!” Ryan looked at her with extreme disgust and said coldly, “That kind of filthy talk does sound like your style.” Emma cried bitterly, feeling wronged. She shouted at Mrs. Parker, “Mom! Tell me who’s right and who’s wrong!” But Mrs. Parker just frowned and said nothing. As Emma cried, her face gradually showed helplessness,anger, and intense hatred.

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I recently noticed that my daughter’s mood has become unpredictable. She would get extremely excited or deeply disappointed over a single comment from her school teacher. After my repeated questioning, she finally admitted, “You’re a bad mom. I like my dance teacher more as my mom.” “If only Miss Diana could be my mom, Dad would definitely smile more,” she pouted. I frowned, my woman’s intuition screaming inside: That woman is seducing my husband, and worse, she’s trying to manipulate my daughter psychologically. My name is Olivia Wilson, 31 years old, married, and the only daughter of a small business owner. I have an MBA from overseas and currently work as a marketing manager in a company. To outsiders, I seem to be living an enviable life: born into a wealthy family, highly educated, and happily married with a child. But only I know that deep down, I’m actually a very insecure and weak person. Growing up in a single-parent family has made me cold and indifferent towards others. I’m not as devoted to my family as I am to my work. My husband is handsome and capable, and my daughter is sweet and well-behaved. The only flaw is that after giving birth, I immediately threw myself into a demanding project at work, missing the best time for postpartum recovery. As a result, I now have stubborn belly fat and a C-section scar that I can’t get rid of, which has become a big regret for me. Jack, however, doesn’t seem to mind. He often hugs me from behind and whispers, “Darling, you’ll always be the most beautiful in my eyes.” He’s said this to me twice before: once during our wedding vows, and once when I had a major hemorrhage due to breech position during childbirth. I was in the ICU then, tears blurring my vision, my body reeking. I asked him, “Honey, am I ugly now?” He kissed my hand gently, without any disgust, and said I was the most beautiful woman in his heart. Jack’s deep affection and tenderness have kept our marriage in a state of mild warmth since we got married. Now, our daughter Lily is four years old and in middle class at kindergarten. He takes on the responsibility of being a good father and husband. Since I’m usually busy with work and he often works night shifts as a programmer, he’s the one who picks up our daughter from school. One day, I saw a parenting forum on my phone suggesting that parental companionship is the most important factor in a child’s growth. After reading it, I felt guilty, realizing I hadn’t spent enough time with my daughter lately. So I left work early that afternoon and called Jack: “Honey, I’ll pick up Lily today. It’s Blue Bell Kindergarten, Middle Class 3, right? Is it still the east entrance for pick-up?” I admit I haven’t done enough in terms of spending time with our child, and Jack only picks her up from school because my work hours clash with her school dismissal time. But when we get home, I’m the one who cooks. For Lily’s healthy growth, I even got a nutritionist certificate in my spare time, just to prepare balanced and nutritious meals for them. I rarely visit my daughter’s kindergarten, having been there only once for a parent-teacher meeting. Due to a timing mistake, and unable to reach Jack on his phone, I ended up standing at the gate for an hour and a half before realizing other parents were already leaving. Lily came out with her little backpack, looking surprised to see me there to pick her up. Her big, bright eyes flashed with astonishment. As she approached, I quickly took her backpack and told her I had been waiting for her for a long time. My daughter pouted and said, “Silly mommy, today teacher gave me extra dance lessons. You didn’t even know!” I crouched down, feeling guilty. Jack hadn’t told me clearly, so I had come at her usual dismissal time. However, at that moment, I suddenly noticed a trace of chili oil at the corner of her lips. Although it was just a tiny bit, my keen eye caught it. As a certified nutritionist, I strictly forbid my baby from eating any junk food. Spicy snacks and chips are off-limits, even though she loves them. I held her small hand and sniffed it. Despite having been washed, the strong artificial flavor couldn’t be masked by the hand soap. My face darkened. “Lily, did you eat spicy snacks?” Seeing my anger, she immediately deflated, puffing up her cheeks and refusing to admit it. “Honey, didn’t Mommy teach you to be an honest child? No lying, okay?” I tried to stay calm, knowing that children this age need effective guidance rather than harsh criticism. Under my gentle coaxing, my daughter finally spoke up. She said the spicy snacks were given to her by their dance teacher, only to her, and she was told not to tell her parents or other kids. “If only Miss Diana could be my mom, Dad would definitely smile more,” my daughter said with a pout. I raised an eyebrow, my grip on her delicate wrist unconsciously tightening as I angrily said: “What did you say? Do you know how much it hurts Mommy to hear you say that?” She suddenly jerked her hand away in a fit of temper, tears of petulance glistening in her eyes. She grabbed the water bottle from my hand and threw it on the ground: “She buys me fried chicken and spicy snacks, and plays with me. You can’t give me anything.” I stood there in shock, watching my usually well-behaved daughter become increasingly spoiled and even break the water bottle. I began to realize how much I had failed in my role as a mother, to the point where my daughter thought another woman would be a better mom. However, her childish words inadvertently revealed some shocking facts to me: My husband had shown fondness for another woman in front of her.

And to win over my daughter, she was pulling out all the stops to please her. This Miss Diana, I vaguely remembered, was the dance teacher at the kindergarten, named Diana Lee. My daughter loves dancing. Diana has been teaching Lily since the junior class. I had seen her in a class photo before and even joked with my husband: “Look at this teacher, she’s so pretty and fresh-faced. She looks like an older sister among the kids.” Jack, however, said she was already thirty years old. Seeing my surprise, he inadvertently added: “She used to be a yoga instructor. Her kid is already over three years old, but I must say, she’s maintained herself really well.” At that moment, a flash of surprise crossed my mind: why did Jack know so much about this teacher? But I just laughed it off. Perhaps it was because Jack often went to the kindergarten to pick up our daughter and had heard some things. Looking back now, there were clues all along. However, the caution ingrained in me from my family background made me reluctant to disrupt our family harmony without concrete evidence. What if, what if Lily was just saying things out of anger? What if that teacher was already married? After all, she was supposed to be a role model. I tried to comfort myself, afraid of wrongly accusing someone of something they didn’t do. Children’s Day was coming up in a few days, and my daughter was going to perform a “Fairy Dance” on stage. Diana was in charge of rehearsing their class performance. I decided to go and see her in person to investigate. It was already quite hot in our small southern city in June, but I didn’t dare wear a dress. I stuck to my usual outfit of a shirt and cropped pants. I hadn’t recovered well after my C-section, leaving scars on my abdomen and stretch marks extending to my legs, which made me very self-conscious. But as I entered the kindergarten, I saw her graceful figure from afar, by the stage. Even without beauty filters, she looked exactly like in the photo, perfectly embodying the “fair, young, and slim” aesthetic. I was momentarily stunned, involuntarily thinking how beautiful she was. If I hadn’t given up the best time for postpartum recovery due to work, I probably wouldn’t be so different from her. Miss Diana was wearing a white crop top, with several cute little buns in her hair, her curvy figure looking very alluring. At that moment, she was patiently crouching by the stage, gently encouraging: “Darlings, do you all remember the dance steps for when you go on stage?” “Yes, we do!” the children chorused in unison. The most excited voice among them was my daughter Lily’s. She had pointy elf ears attached to both of her little ears, and the shimmering purple eye shadow made her big eyes sparkle. I stood in the shade of a nearby tree, just tenderly watching my daughter, my most precious connection in this world. As for the incident from a few days ago, I only felt guilt and self-reproach towards my daughter. After thinking about it all night, I decided to sacrifice some work time when possible to spend more time with Lily and be part of her childhood. Rather than having her constantly thinking about adopting an outsider as her mother. At this moment, Diana seemed to notice my presence. With a wide smile, she walked towards me. “Excuse me, ma’am, which child’s parent are you? Why don’t you go sit in the audience area?” Perhaps due to her dance training, her figure looked even more stunning up close. Her slender waist seemed like it could be encircled by one hand, and there was even a small diamond piercing in her belly button. I snapped back to reality and quickly smiled apologetically, “Oh, I’m Lily Thompson’s parent…” But I was oddly stunned when I saw her expression upon hearing this. Because I clearly saw a glint of cunning in her eyes. “Are you her grandmother?” I frowned at her. Although I hadn’t recovered well after giving birth, I didn’t have any age spots or anything on my face. I clearly looked like I was in my early thirties. How could she mistake me for a grandmother? “…I’m her mother.” Diana feigned surprise, her voice still sweet: “Oh, so you’re Lily’s mom. I’m sorry, some of the other kids have grandmothers who come to pick them up, and they look very young too. Lily’s dad usually picks her up, so you don’t come often, right?” Her slightly passive-aggressive words instantly woke me up, reminding me of why I came here. My thoughts gradually became clear. No wonder Lily likes her. Women like her, both in appearance and tone, are extremely captivating and easy for people to warm up to. Thinking back to what my daughter said yesterday, I felt dispirited and listless throughout the entire kindergarten event. The camera in my hand captured snapshots of my daughter’s small figure. But my peripheral vision lingered long on Diana’s flower-like smile. We’re both thirty years old… but she’s maintained herself so much better than I have. Thinking of Lily’s closeness to her, I couldn’t help but feel an immense sense of panic, with tears welling up in my eyes. I have to say, if all my suspicions were true, my daughter would probably be very happy to have such a gentle and beautiful stepmother in the future. Jack would be happier too. Then what am I… Am I just a nuisance that others want to discard?

I was distracted for many days, feeling increasingly uneasy. Even Jack noticed that something was off with me. Seeing that I kept rejecting his advances, he asked curiously: “Honey, what’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” I shook my head. He had done everything well, perfectly, without anything to criticize. However, the calmer the surface of a lake appears, the more likely it is to hide turbulent undercurrents beneath. This seemingly uneventful life continued for another two weeks. I didn’t want to dwell on these trivial matters anymore. My new work was already keeping me extremely busy, but I didn’t complain. Because my boss had promised that after completing this project, I would have more free time. Then I could spend more time with my daughter. Tuesday was a rainy day. Just before I got off work, my daughter called me from the kindergarten’s landline. Her small voice on the other end sounded excited: “Mom, you don’t need to pick me up after school. I’m going to Nini’s house for a birthday party. Her mom said she’d pick us up.” I quickly responded with a couple of “oh”s, asking her why she didn’t tell me earlier so I could have bought a birthday gift for her classmate. Going empty-handed would be impolite. My daughter’s voice was filled with pride: “Miss Diana already took me shopping. She helped me pick out a gift, a crystal music box. It cost over $100!” So expensive? I was stunned, my suspicions growing stronger. Why would a kindergarten teacher help a student buy such an expensive gift for someone else? Miss Diana… it’s her again. Whenever my daughter talks about anything related to kindergarten, that woman’s name is always on her lips. As if she’s been bewitched. I had also privately asked other children, who all eagerly told me that Lily was their dance teacher’s favorite student. “She praises her every day. When others fail at doing the splits, they get punished to stand, but not her. Miss Diana is so gentle with her.” But I knew in my heart that my daughter didn’t have any particular talent for dance, nor was she diligent in practice. With this in mind, a flood of questions left me restless. I could only softly remind her to “be careful” before hanging up. My daughter on the other end seemed eager to end the call and quickly hung up. I held the phone in silence for a long time, then turned to my colleague and said: “Lisa, could you help me continue with this list? I have an urgent matter and need to leave work early.” My colleague looked troubled, “Olivia, you’ve been in charge of this overseas project all along. Even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t do it. I’m afraid I might mess things up for you.” My mind was in chaos, but I still didn’t want to jeopardize the company’s task or disappoint my boss’s trust in me. So it wasn’t until after 8 PM that I finally finished the list, exhausted. I didn’t even have time for dinner before rushing off to pick up my daughter. I looked through my daughter’s classmate directory and saw that Nini lived in Dream World Villa, Building 13. I quickly drove there. Nini’s house was very spacious. Because of the birthday party today, the doors were wide open, but strangely, there weren’t many people inside. The Filipino maid in the villa told me that Nini and the other classmates had all gone to the back bay to see the blue tears tide, a bioluminescent phenomenon. I quickly grabbed her and asked: “Did Lily go too? The girl with pigtails, wearing a red polka dot puff-sleeve dress.” The maid seemed to think for a moment, then replied, “Oh, I’ve seen her. She’s the child Miss Diana brought, right? They didn’t go to the beach, they’re talking in the house.” Everyone else had gone to play, why was she keeping my daughter in a room… I had an ominous feeling. Ignoring the maid’s attempts to stop me, I rushed into the house with my bag. I stopped at the door of the only noisy bedroom, frowning as I heard sounds coming from inside—

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I had just joined the freshman group chat when I received a friend request. [Lucas] I glanced at the real Lucas beside me, who was lounging lazily on the couch, picking at his feet while watching a beauty pageant show. Why would he suddenly add me as a friend? I accepted the request, and the person got straight to the point. [Hey freshman, want to date?] “Bro, I heard you want to date me?” Not only was my brother surprised, but my stepmom also rushed in from the kitchen where she was washing dishes and gave him a slap. She grabbed her son’s ear. “You little rascal, can’t you behave? Your sister is off-limits, do you want a beating?” Lucas and I aren’t related by blood. He’s my stepmom’s son. When I was fourteen, our families merged, but it wasn’t as dramatic as in TV shows. We got along well and lived in peace. Lucas and I were especially close, even more than real siblings. After my college entrance exam, following Lucas’s advice, I applied to the same university as him. The only difference was that he was a graduate student, while I was an incoming freshman. Lucas, who had just been inexplicably beaten by his mom, was quite indignant. But when he turned to me, his tone softened, with a hint of grievance. “Ava, you didn’t say this just to get my mom to hit me, did you…?” “Of course not.” I handed him my phone. The childish person on the other end was still entertaining himself. [Freshman, what admission batch are you in? I’m currently a graduate student, and I’ve already been recommended for a Ph.D. program.] [Freshman, I saw the photos in your moments, they’re all so pretty. Do you have any no-makeup photos? Those are more real.] [Freshman, do you want to see my photos? I guarantee you’ll be very satisfied.] The moment I handed the phone to my brother, another message popped up. [If you want to see, it’s $5 per photo ] I could feel my brother’s anger about to burn through the ceiling. That person shamelessly added another sentence. [I, Lucas, am the acknowledged campus heartthrob at our school ] My brother was so angry he wanted to smash my precious phone, but remembering he had worked part-time jobs to save up and buy it for me, he couldn’t bear to. He just tossed the phone back to me. “This bastard, don’t let me find out who it is, or I’ll use him as a lab rat. I’ll sterilize him first, then crack his skull open.”

I opened my phone and carefully examined that account, comparing it to my brother’s account. If I hadn’t already added my brother, even I might not have been able to tell the difference. Even the Snapchat account was strikingly similar, with only a few digits different. From the Snapchat space to the message board and signature, everything was identical. “I just joined the freshman group, and he immediately added me. Looks like this isn’t his first time.” My brother nodded at my words. “So how do we deal with this bastard?” “Hold off until school starts.” My brother exclaimed, “By then, how many girls will he have victimized in my name!” “If we expose him now, he’ll just stop targeting me. Can you catch him? He’ll just block me and move on to the next victim, won’t he?” My brother was a straightforward engineering guy. Ask him to unravel the mysteries of the universe, easy. But ask him to handle intricate matters, it’s like asking for his life. “So how do you plan to respond?” I typed a few words on the keyboard, then deleted them. “Bro, give me five bucks.” My brother almost kicked me. “Did your IQ drop to zero after the college entrance exam? You’re not really going to pay for my photos, are you?” I was thinking, compared to dating and scamming for emotions, this kind of scammer would definitely prefer to have a sucker willing to give him money. This would be the best way to keep him around. “I can’t give you much, don’t let that idiot enjoy too much.” Though my brother complained, he still sent me a $50 gift on Snapchat. After all, Snapchat payments weren’t mainstream, and he was afraid I’d give too much to that scammer. “I know what I’m doing.”

I sent the scammer ten bucks, and sure enough, he sent over two fleeting photos. Both were photos of my brother. [How about it, satisfied? I think I’m more than a match for you.] This scammer was really shameless. I played along. [Wow, I’ve seen you before!] My brother wasn’t a good student in his early years and barely made it into a community college. After my stepmom married into our family with him, he saw me studying all the time and was influenced by me. From community college to bachelor’s to master’s to PhD, he became a model student. Not only did the school love to brag about such talent, but even the school forum was full of his glorious deeds. The scammer was smug. [Your brother is very outstanding.] He asked another question, [What batch are you in, freshman? I don’t like community college students.] Our school has programs from community college to doctoral level. But I hadn’t expected that not only would he impersonate my brother, he would also discriminate based on education level. Didn’t he know my brother himself was a community college student? “I can’t hold back anymore.” My brother was also fuming beside me, “Don’t even mention you, I already want to take a knife to him.” My stepmom, who had been listening on the side, also pieced together the situation. “Did you offend someone? Otherwise, why would they only impersonate you and not others?” My brother said bluntly, “Don’t pull that victim-blaming stuff. I’m just eating, sleeping, and doing research. When would I have time to offend anyone?” I nodded vigorously in agreement. “Then how do you explain this?” my stepmom asked. “I’m being impersonated and you want me to provide evidence? What kind of injustice is this? I’m more wronged than Dou E,” my brother shouted angrily at the sky. He suddenly lowered his head, looking a bit dejected. “No wonder I haven’t had a girlfriend in all these years of college. Has this impersonator taken all my potential girlfriends?!” My stepmom and I burst out laughing. I comforted my brother. “Once school starts, everything will be clear.”

At the welcome party, my brother was giving a speech as a representative of the graduate students. I specifically sent a message to the scammer. [Lucas, I see you, you’re so handsome!] That scammer, either stupid or dumb, replied without hesitation while my brother was still speaking on stage. [Of course] I hadn’t had time to laugh when I felt a chill. I turned around to see the instructor behind me, looking at me coldly. The welcome party was held during our Freshman Orientation Week, and we weren’t allowed to bring phones, even at night. However, my brother insisted I take photos for him to show off, so I secretly brought it. There were quite a few people who brought phones to the event. As long as it wasn’t too blatant, everyone turned a blind eye, including the instructors. But I don’t know why the instructor singled me out among all the people. “How many times have I said, no phones allowed. Give it to me, you can get it back after the party is over.” I handed my phone to the instructor, left with no choice but to stare blankly at my brother on stage. School had just started, how had I already made enemies? Olivia sat down in the empty seat beside me. “Ava, did I miss anything interesting?” Olivia was my roommate, a cute girl, though her style was a bit outdoorsy. I didn’t mind that. My dad had stressed a million times that I should get along well with my roommates, otherwise even he, as the dean, couldn’t help me. “You missed quite a show.” Olivia paused slightly, “What show?” “The show of the instructor confiscating my phone,” I was bitter, poor little me. Olivia smiled, with a hint of sweetness. “Don’t worry Ava, Instructor Ethan is very nice. He’ll give it back to you later. Besides, we’re college students now, not middle or high school students. They shouldn’t be confiscating phones anymore.” I nodded. My brother came off stage and immediately pulled out his phone, probably wanting to ask me for his handsome photos so he could post them on social media and show off.

When the instructor returned my phone to me, it was already late at night. As a small punishment, he only gave it back during room inspection. He also said something out of the blue. “You’re so young, don’t get involved in those messy things.” I nodded and took the phone, my two big ears letting his words go in one and out the other. I just took it as a lecture and didn’t take it to heart. Another roommate, however, listened very carefully. Emma echoed the instructor, saying, “The instructor is right. Some people are poor but have no dignity, getting involved in all sorts of messy things, making people think they’re so hardworking.” The instructor gave her a stern look. “Don’t cause trouble, get along well with your roommates. You still have four years together.” I turned on my phone, which was already out of battery. As soon as I plugged it in, I immediately messaged my brother. Sure enough, my narcissistic brother had already sent hundreds of messages, asking me to quickly send him the photos. [What photos? The instructor took my phone away before I could take any] [What’s your instructor’s name?] I suddenly understood what my brother wanted to do. The instructors at our school, except for a few higher-ups, were all student officers from the school. They were veterans who had returned to school, with military training experience, but essentially still students. Perhaps my brother knew some of them. [What, trying to pull strings for your little sister?] Seeing me tease him, my brother didn’t hold back either. [My sister is strong and brave, resourceful and clever. I’m sure she looks down on her brother’s back door.] [No, I’m begging you!!!] We always joked around like this when talking. As I was sending messages, I laughed out loud. Emma, however, snorted coldly. “Don’t bring that smile you use to attract customers into the dorm. It’s a bad influence.”

I turned my head to look. Emma was folding clothes and organizing her wardrobe, seemingly not chatting with anyone else. “Are you talking about me?” I asked her. Emma paused slightly, then continued her actions. “Whoever reacts strongly is who I’m talking about.” I even started to wonder if I had offended this sister somehow, but I had only been in school for three days, with Freshman Orientation Week starting on the first day. How could there be such deep grudges already? Anyone would think I had a feud with her in a past life. Olivia came into the room carrying a water bottle, seemingly sensing that the atmosphere in the dorm wasn’t right. “You two… what’s wrong?” Emma laughed coldly without saying anything. Olivia tried to mediate, “Natalie couldn’t come to school because of COVID prevention measures, right? But it seems her packages will arrive tomorrow. She wants us to help her pick them up.” Natalie, bed three, couldn’t return to school because of a COVID outbreak in her hometown before the semester started. I nodded in agreement, but before I could say “okay,” Emma circled back to the previous topic. “The two of us can go. We shouldn’t let certain people go. Who knows, they might be infected without even knowing it.” I put my phone on the desk, not caring about my brother who was still clamoring. “Emma, if you have something to say, just say it directly. Don’t beat around the bush here.” Just as Emma’s anger was about to fully ignite, Olivia stopped her again. “Emma, it’s too late. You two shouldn’t argue.” Being stopped, Emma was like a dog held back by its owner, becoming even more reckless and arrogant. “Me, arguing? If the instructor hadn’t said anything today, I would have still thought of her as a goddess. Looking good but doing these things, aren’t you ashamed?” Instructor, I heard this word and wondered if the instructor confiscating my phone tonight was for some other reason. Olivia continued to persuade her, “Alright, Emma. We have to gather early tomorrow. Let’s go to sleep.” I held back my anger and got into bed. In the Freshman Orientation Week group chat, I found the instructor Ethan who had confiscated my phone today. I sent a friend request. The instructor hadn’t accepted me yet when that impersonator appeared again. [Freshman, are you guys in Freshman Orientation Week? Don’t get too tanned, I, Lucas, don’t like dark skin] I held my forehead and sighed. This guy, impersonating someone else, always had the other person’s name on his lips. Which normal person would constantly say their own name?! I ignored him. I continued to joke with my brother. [Big bro, do you have anything going on tomorrow?] My brother had always been hardworking. He was probably still in the study room at this hour, and likely wouldn’t have any free time tomorrow either. But these days of the enemy being in the dark and me in the light were really too uncomfortable. [Nothing, what’s up] My brother sent another picture, a screenshot of a chat record. At the top of the photo was the name of the chat partner, “Ethan.” In the chat record, my brother used all the flowery language he could muster in his life to describe me as a delicate flower who was bullied and in poor health. Ethan also repeatedly promised that he would definitely protect me well, and that he also deeply hated campus bullying. It seems Instructor Ethan quickly succumbed to my brother’s tyranny. [Bro, I didn’t expect your skills were still sharp]

After lining up, I sensed something was off. Our class stood under the national flag for a long time. Other classes had already gone to practice marching, but we were still standing at attention. Instructor Ethan stood in front of us with his arms folded, looking at us coldly for a long time. “Other classes, nothing happens. But in our class, everything happens!” We were speechless, afraid of angering the instructor again. “How many times have I said that phones are not allowed during Freshman Orientation Week? Yet someone still brought one last night. I want you to know that you are a collective! When one person makes a mistake, the whole class is punished!” “Today our class won’t practice. We’ll just stand at attention to let you know the taste of disobeying military orders!” The back door my brother found for me, is this how it works? I really shouldn’t have trusted him. Perhaps we had been standing for too long, arousing the curiosity of other classes. A tall, slender man walked over. His military uniform fit him well and looked neat. His tanned skin made him look particularly healthy and handsome. Unlike my brother’s handsomeness, he had more of a wild and resolute air about him, as if he could wrestle with wild wolves for four or five rounds at any moment. The shoulder badges of other instructors were ordinary ones issued by the school’s “Military Enthusiasts Association.” Most of these instructors were students trained by veterans, and some had no military experience at all. But the shoulder badge of the man who walked over read: Special Forces Unit. The morning sun was not kind either. Under the sunlight, I couldn’t see very clearly, but I knew that these shoulder badges couldn’t be faked. Once used, they were real. Instructor Ethan glanced at the man and politely returned a smile. Instructor Ethan glared at us again. “What are you standing there for? Say hello to the Chief Instructor!” “Hello, Chief Instructor!” On the day of the Freshman Orientation Week opening ceremony, I was standing at the back and couldn’t see clearly who was who. I had thought the Chief Instructor would be a middle-aged person, but I didn’t expect him to be so young. The Chief Instructor laughed, showing his big white teeth, which were even more noticeable against his tanned skin. “What’s going on here, Instructor Ethan? Everyone’s playing statues here, why didn’t you invite me to join?” I heard the warning tone in his voice. The Chief Instructor was implying that Instructor Ethan wasn’t training us and was trying to slack off. Instructor Ethan heard it too and hurriedly explained. “Chief Instructor, someone in our class did something wrong last night. I’m giving them a small punishment today.” The Chief Instructor’s smile faded. “Who made the mistake? Step forward.” “Reporting, it was me.” I stepped sideways out of the formation, looking at the Chief Instructor. “What mistake did you make!” “Bringing a phone during Freshman Orientation Week!” “Ten squats!” Ten squats weren’t difficult, but we had been standing at attention for too long. Our legs had almost lost feeling. The sudden squats were something I couldn’t adapt to at all. I fainted on the seventh squat.

When I woke up, I was in the infirmary. Beside me was that tanned man, the man who had caused me to end up in the infirmary. “Student, you’re awake.” He seemed to have been watching me, observing when I would wake up. I nodded while lying on the bed. “Chief Instructor, do I need to go back for training?” He shook his head, “No need.” Great, I want to sleep, sleep to death, sleep until the end of time. Seeing me fall asleep in a second, he laughed. “You’re quite carefree. Aren’t you going to ask why I’m not letting you go?” I mumbled with my eyes closed. “Isn’t it because you caused this?” He shook my shoulder, and I opened my eyes. In front of me was a phone, with the screen showing my bed. On the bed, there was clearly a pair of men’s underwear thrown there! I widened my eyes. “My bed!?” He nodded. I finally understood, “So you pulled me out of class for this?” He nodded again. “Why are you helping me?” That pair of men’s underwear looked a bit wrinkled, not new. If Emma went back to the dorm and saw it, with her big mouth, probably the whole school would say I was a pervert. His eyes were really beautiful. I just looked for a moment and didn’t want to look away. He didn’t shy away either, looking back at me. I suddenly remembered, “You’re not the back door my brother found for me, are you?” He gave me a sincere and natural smile. “Ethan, that’s my name.”

“Could it be Emma?” After hearing all the bizarre things I told him, Ethan suspected that the person who put the men’s underwear there was my roommate Emma. The dorm keys, apart from the area aunt, were only held by the four roommates. Olivia got along well with me, and Natalie hadn’t returned to school yet, so it seemed only Emma was left. Ethan then refuted his own guess, “But if it was Emma, wouldn’t that be too much like a thief crying ‘stop thief’?” I agreed. Although Emma was always at odds with me, it was just verbal attacks. I hadn’t seen her engage in any scheming. Ethan gently patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, your brother and I have been good friends for over ten years. I’ll help you. This kind of person is too dangerous on campus.” “Chief Instructor, I want to go back to the formation.” Ethan frowned slightly, “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” On the field, everyone had been training for a long time and was resting in place. Seeing me return so leisurely, they seemed quite disgruntled. Emma was the first to roll her eyes at me. Olivia got up to come and greet me, but was pulled back by Emma. Ever since that pair of men’s underwear was thrown on my bed, I no longer trusted them, even Olivia who still seemed to get along with me. My spot was still empty, so I sat down. “After hooking up with this one, now hooking up with that one. Who can outlive you?” Emma was being sarcastic again. “You’d better explain clearly. Who did I hook up with?” Olivia tugged at Emma’s sleeve, “Emma, everyone’s here.” “So what if everyone’s here? It’s not like others can’t see. Fainting in front of the Chief Instructor, letting the Chief Instructor carry you out, and in a princess carry no less. Others would beg for such luck.” I gave her a cold look. “Emma, if you could carry me, you could go to the infirmary with me and enjoy an hour of air conditioning too.” Emma was certainly not happy with that. She was afraid of getting sunburned and had applied layer after layer of sunscreen. While I had comfortably enjoyed an hour of air conditioning in the infirmary.

I went to the cafeteria to get food, while they went to help Natalie pick up her packages. I originally wanted to go too, but Emma repeatedly rejected me, which actually gave me a chance to rest and eat directly. I asked for an extra chicken leg and hid in a corner to eat frantically. “Quick, look at the school’s Reddit!” The girls at the table next to me suddenly called out. The girl in pink opened her phone and looked for a while, then said in an indescribable tone, both mocking and disgusted. “Who’s so amazing that they even stole Kevin’s underwear? I’m dying of laughter hahaha” That pair of men’s underwear had been thrown away when Ethan discovered it. Even if they returned early, they wouldn’t be able to see it. We weren’t allowed to bring phones during Freshman Orientation Week. I had learned my lesson and couldn’t check the gossip immediately. It was so difficult. But with this table of gossip sisters, I turned into a mouse in a melon field. Blue girl: “Who’s Kevin? Why are the comments not pitying him but laughing at him instead?” Pink girl: “Kevin, you don’t even know him? Let me give you a hint. What’s the surname of that strictest graduate student supervisor in our graduate school?” Professor Cheng, my brother’s graduate supervisor. I had heard my brother mention that Professor Cheng had a child who was particularly troublesome and always came to the lab to bother the professor. The professor had no choice but to throw the kid to several graduate students to teach. The kid was tortured by various science and engineering experts every day, but instead of retreating, he became more and more courageous. He skipped grades one after another and was directly admitted to our school. Kevin was famous mainly because he was already a sophomore, but only sixteen years old. Stealing an upperclassman’s underwear, and still being underage. The consequences would certainly be serious. He might even be labeled as a “pervert.” My brother sent me a message on WhatsApp. [Ding ding, my beautiful, kind, and generous sister, do you have any new gossip today?] I knew my brother was talking about that impersonator. I opened the chat with the impersonator. No wonder there was no movement today. It turned out I hadn’t replied to his message last night. He was quite temperamental. I looked at that ridiculous message on the screen. [I, Lucas, don’t like dark skin.] I replied to him, [Lucas, if you want to see if I’m dark or not, you can come to the training field and take a look!] This impersonator wouldn’t dare to meet in person. If he dared to meet, I would confront him in real life. Sure enough, he replied instantly. [You’re too eager. I don’t like people who are too eager. Minus 10 points] Deducting points? This trick I’ve only seen in elementary school trendy chat videos. He sent another message. [Favorability: -10 points] Great, I’m completely defeated. I think the person on the other end is either an idiot or a complete fool. How could such a person perfectly impersonate my brother?

When I returned to the dorm, they had already brought back all the packages. Natalie wasn’t here, but there was a large pile of packages scattered around. The outer packaging looked quite luxurious, seemingly not cheap. Olivia marveled at these things. “Natalie’s family must be rich to buy so many things.” I felt Emma glance at me, “Better keep an eye on them, in case certain people steal them.” I couldn’t be bothered to explain to her. My dad is the dean of the school, my stepmom is in finance, my brother is in scientific research, and even all our distant relatives are landlords. I’m the only useless one in the whole family. [Ava, your package has arrived. Go pick it up quickly] My brother sent me a message. [What package? Why isn’t it in my name?] Our school has self-service package pickup. If it was my own package, the message should have been sent to my phone. [My mom was worried you’d be too busy with Freshman Orientation Week, so she insisted I pick it up for you. But I’m about to leave for field research with my supervisor and don’t have time to help you pick it up] [Okay] I put on my Bluetooth earphones and went out. But I could still faintly hear Emma’s unforgiving voice from inside the room. “I told you she was jealous. Now who knows which admirer she’s going to seduce to buy things for her.” My stepmom, afraid that I would be affected by that impersonator pretending to be my brother, had bought many luxury goods for me. In my stepmom’s view, if a woman has money, it can deter many people. But she overlooked one point: excessive flaunting of wealth can also invite dissatisfaction. I hugged seven or eight eye-catching luxury brand packages from LV, Gucci, Chanel… feeling particularly uncomfortable. So I asked the courier at the pickup station for a large black plastic bag, unpacked all the packaging, and stuffed everything usable into the plastic bag to carry back. When I entered the room, Emma was taking a shower, and only Olivia was eating at the table. “Ava, what are you carrying in that big bag?” I casually put it under the table, “Local specialties sent from home.” As soon as I finished speaking, the phone in my pocket rang. “Miss Li, this is the courier from just now. It seems you left one package behind. Could you come back again?” “Okay.” I hung up the phone and went out again. The sky inexplicably started drizzling, and I hadn’t brought an umbrella. I could only pull up the hood of my sweatshirt. There was a crowd of people at the entrance of the pickup station. I immediately spotted one particularly tall man wearing an army combat uniform. The courier looked at the few kids in front of him with a serious face. “Your Chief Instructor is here too. If you don’t admit your mistake, I’m really going to call the police.” I pushed through the crowd. The courier looked at me, “Miss Li, it’s like this. Your package was lost. I had just put it on the table waiting for you to come pick it up, but…” “Your package?” Ethan turned his head to look at me. Maybe it was mine, but all the package information was with my brother, so I wasn’t sure if it was mine. But since the courier had called and said it was mine, it should be correct. I nodded. Ethan handed me the tablet in his hand. This was the surveillance footage from the pickup station. Because it was raining, several cameras were particularly blurry and basically nothing could be seen. Only one was barely usable. Those with similar figures to the ones in the video were all in front of me. Ethan stood tall and straight. Just standing in front of others, he had an invisible aura of authority. He said in a cold voice, “If you took it by mistake, just return it to the other person. We won’t pursue this matter.” From the line of people, a slightly chubby girl stretched out her hand. In her palm hung a delicate diamond necklace that looked quite expensive. Ethan took the necklace from her hand, about to return it to me, when he was grabbed by the arm by that girl. “Why must it be hers? Why don’t you think it’s mine!” Everyone looked at her in surprise. The courier was particularly exasperated, saying in a somewhat mocking tone, “Can’t you read the name on the package yourself? Do you recognize the name?” The girl’s face turned red, and even the frame of her glasses was a bit crooked. “Lucas, he’s my boyfriend!” she shouted loudly. Ethan and I looked over almost at the same time. My brother, that straight-laced science guy, had the looks but not the luck in love. And even if he really was in a relationship, how could we, his closest people, not know about it? “Student, your boyfriend’s name is Lucas?” I asked. Lucas, this name was as uncommon as it could be. I hadn’t heard of a second Lucas in our school. I suddenly thought of that impersonator in my phone. Could it be that the impersonator had been scamming people in the school all along? That would be too brazen! I originally thought the impersonator would only scam for emotions or money, not possible to meet in person.

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