After Mom won over Dad, she decided to stay in this world forever. The three of us lived happily together. But then Dad fell in love with his secretary. Mom told Dad, “If you keep seeing her, I’ll leave.” But Dad replied, “You don’t even have a family to go back to. Where can you go?” And when Mom really left, Dad lost his mind. I pushed open the bedroom door. Mom was lying quietly on the bed. It looked like she was sleeping. I walked over and gently called out, “Mom.” But she didn’t open her eyes like she always did, pulling me into her arms. I put my hand near her nose, but there was no breath. I knew then, my mom… was gone.

Mom once told me she was a “Mission Achiever.” She said she completed her task, and that’s why she chose to stay in this world forever. When she said this, her eyes were full of smiles. Back then, I didn’t understand what “Mission Achiever” meant, but I still asked, “Mom, what was your task?” Mom held my little hand and said, “It was to win over your dad, make him fall in love with me, and then have you!” “Erin, you are Mom’s greatest gift.” She gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek and said she never regretted staying. But after that, Mom didn’t smile like that anymore. Because Dad had fallen for his secretary. People said Dad was going to leave Mom and me soon. I got so mad, I chased them away and hugged Mom. At that moment, I thought: Even if Dad didn’t want Mom anymore, it didn’t matter. Because Mom still had Erin. She was my mom, so she would always be with me.

Usually, it was Mom who helped me take off my pajamas, get dressed, and brush my teeth. Mom would say, “You’re ten years old now. You still need me to help you? Aren’t you afraid your friends will laugh?” I would pout and say, “They’d just be jealous that my mom takes such good care of me.” But now that Mom was gone, I had to dress myself. When I came to the table, Ms. May had already made breakfast. Ms. May asked, “Why hasn’t your mom gotten up yet?” I replied, “Mom’s still sleeping.” Ms. May was the nanny Mom hired. She paid her ten years’ worth of wages upfront to take care of me. Before, we never had a nanny. Mom did everything around the house herself. She was a superhero. She’d do all the chores, put me to bed, spend time with Dad, and still find an hour to study her law books in the study. She was preparing for the LSATs. Dad didn’t understand. He would say, “Why are you working so hard when you’re already so busy and tired?” “I’m taking care of you; why not just relax and enjoy life?” But Mom would gently, yet firmly, shake her head and say, “Ryan, this is my dream.” When she said that, her eyes were shining. I thought Mom looked so beautiful at that moment. I imagine Dad thought so too. He reached out, pulling Mom into his arms, nuzzling her neck like a puppy. Mom’s face turned red, and she pushed Dad away, saying, “Erin’s right here.” I knew Mom and Dad were about to play their “game.” They never let me join. I wanted to ask Mom to include me this time. But Dad’s eyes landed on me and said, “Erin, go out.” I got scared and left quietly. Most of the time, Dad treated me well. But when he looked at me that way, I couldn’t help but obey. For a while, things at home were peaceful. Dad even encouraged Mom to study for the LSATs and stayed up late with her. But the day before the exam… Dad took all of Mom’s documents and locked her in the room. It wasn’t until after the exam had passed that Dad came back home with me. Mom looked at Dad, her eyes blazing with anger. “Ryan, do you know I’ve spent a year preparing for this?!” “Do you have any idea how important this is to me?!” Dad walked up to her, ignoring her struggles, and held her tightly in his arms. He softly said, “Merry, I’m sorry, but I did it for our family.” “I just want you to stay home, so I can hold you whenever I want.” “And Erin feels the same way.” When he said that last part, Dad looked at me. I remembered what Dad told me earlier that day. “Once Mom becomes a lawyer, she’ll always be out on business trips, dealing with clients, and she’ll forget all about you.” “And if she meets someone better, she might leave us and never come back.” What Dad said terrified me. I didn’t want Mom to leave. So I grabbed Mom’s hand and said, “Mom, don’t be mad at Dad. I don’t want to lose you either.” Mom looked at me, and it was like all the strength drained from her. She softened in Dad’s arms. Her dry, cracked voice finally broke the silence. “Don’t let this happen again.” Dad smiled, satisfied. Everything went just the way I had hoped. But when I looked into Mom’s eyes, now dimmer than before, I couldn’t shake the feeling… that I had done something terribly wrong.

After breakfast, I went back to the bedroom, shut the door, and quietly looked at Mom. At ten years old, I already understood life and death. But I wasn’t afraid. Mom had told me she was eighteen when she traveled to this world. In her original world, she was still lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes. She said that after she completed her mission, the system gave her two choices. She could return to her old world or stay here. She wanted to go back and see her mom, but she couldn’t bear to leave Dad and baby me behind, so she stayed. I once asked her, “Mom, will you always stay with Erin?” Mom said, “Of course.” I held on to that promise for so long. Now, I just gently tapped her nose and whispered, “Mom, you liar.” Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I knew it couldn’t be Dad. He hadn’t been home in a long time. Outside, I heard Lynn’s voice calling, “Erin, come open the door. I’ll take you home.” “I’ll be your mom now.” I shouted back, “Get out! You’re not my mom. You’re the homewrecker who ruined my family!” After Mom stopped preparing for the LSATs, she devoted herself entirely to taking care of Dad and me. We were so happy. I thought we’d stay that way forever. But then Lynn showed up. She was Dad’s new secretary, always clumsy. Dad started complaining about her more and more. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t just fire her if she annoyed him so much. But then Dad started coming home later and sometimes didn’t come back at all. And Lynn even started showing up in his social media posts. Mom and I saw them together once when we were out shopping. Mom dropped the vase she was holding. Dad heard the crash and looked over. For a split second, he looked panicked. He let go of Lynn’s wrist and ran after us. But Mom grabbed me, covered her mouth, and ran. That night, Mom and Dad had a huge fight. I hid behind the door, listening to Dad explain himself. He said he was just helping Lynn, that she was lonely and needed someone to talk to. He swore nothing was going on, that he only saw her as a sister. But I thought Dad’s words were so fake. There’s a boy in my class, Charlie, who’s always claiming girls are his “sisters,” but everyone knows he’s dating all of them. I saw Mom smirk, her face full of disbelief, and then she told Dad, “If you see her again, I’m leaving.” Dad, who had been calmly explaining, suddenly got angry when he heard that. He shouted, “You don’t even have a family here! Where can you possibly go?” Dad knew exactly what he was saying. He knew Mom had given up her chance to return to her world, the one she came from. She had nowhere else to go. No one to turn to. I remembered once when Dad made Mom mad, and she stormed out, bag in hand. I was so scared, begging Dad to go after her. But Dad just crossed his legs, reading his paper, and said, “She’ll be back. Where else would she go?” That night, Mom came home, her eyes red from crying. She lifted the bags in her hands and said, “Ryan, I got us some food.” She opened the takeout containers. Ah. My favorite crab cakes, and Dad’s favorite chive wontons. I happily ate, but when I looked at Mom, I saw her quietly eating an old bun from the fridge. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like eating anymore. I realized then, if Mom had somewhere else to go, she’d have taken the first flight or train out of here. But her family was in another world. She had no choice but to stay. And Dad knew that. So he made sure she would always stay in line.

Outside, Lynn knocked on the door for a while, but soon the noise faded away. I thought she was gone. But about an hour later, I heard the sound of someone picking the lock. On the security monitor, I saw a strange man. I felt scared. Mom had told me that if there were ever strangers at the door when I was home alone, I should find an adult. Since I couldn’t go to Mom, I ran to the kitchen to find Ms. May. “Ms. May, there’s someone outside, and I don’t know him.” Ms. May swallowed nervously and grabbed a knife, holding my hand as we waited by the door. Soon, the lock clicked, and the door opened. There was Lynn, smiling sweetly as she handed the locksmith twenty bucks. “Thanks, sir.” Ms. May frowned, “Miss Lynn, how could you do this?” Lynn shrugged. “Erin, your dad asked me to come and get you.” “You’ve been avoiding me, so I had no choice.” She reached out to grab me. Without thinking, I bit down hard on her hand. I shouted, “I’m not going with you!” “You can forget it!” Lynn screamed as blood welled up in her hand. I finally let go. Lynn, furious, shoved me to the floor and stormed out. My hand scraped against the floor, and blood started to trickle out. Ms. May rushed to get the first-aid kit. Even though it was Ms. May who bandaged me, I couldn’t help but whisper, “Mom… it hurts.” But my mom couldn’t hear me anymore. Before, she was always there—always with Dad, always with me. But now that she was gone, I finally understood what it meant to miss her. I remembered when I was six, during the holidays, Dad took me and Mom back to the family home for a big family gathering. Dad’s relatives were all there. Uncle John, Aunt Lisa, Uncle Mark, Grandpa, Grandma… So many people, bustling around. But Mom was there alone, just with me. That day, she worked tirelessly, cooking a huge meal all by herself. Everyone else sat down to eat, but she was still in the kitchen, busy. Uncle John and Uncle Mark both complimented Dad, saying, “Ryan, you really married a wonderful, capable woman.” Dad smiled proudly. Mom wiped the flour off her forehead and gave a small smile, keeping her head down. When she finally sat down at the table, most of the food was gone. I told her I was tired, so she only had time to take a few bites before leading me upstairs. As we reached the top of the stairs, Mom paused, turning to look back. Curious, I looked too. Grandpa and Grandma were handing out red envelopes to the younger kids. Uncle John, Uncle Mark, and Dad were discussing work, while the aunts and cousins played cards. They were all one big family. Mom stared for a long time. I tugged on her hand and asked, “Mom, what’s wrong?” She snapped out of her thoughts and looked down at me. Behind her was the loud chatter of people and the warmth of family lights, but her eyes looked so sad, so lonely. “Erin, do you think my mom is doing something right now, too?” It was only then that I realized my mom missed her mom, too.

After Ms. May finished bandaging my hand, she glanced toward Mom’s room and frowned. “It’s almost dark, and your mom still hasn’t woken up?” I replied, “Mom’s really tired. Let her sleep a bit longer.” Ms. May sighed. “It’s been days now, and your dad hasn’t come home to check on her.” My dad hadn’t been home for a long time. He said he was on a business trip, but he had actually gone on vacation with Lynn. Lynn had smugly flaunted those pictures in front of Mom, telling her to divorce Dad and make room for her. I saw the sadness fill Mom’s eyes, turning them red. The place in those photos—Mom had wanted to go there for ages. She had begged Dad to take her, but he was always too busy. Yet somehow, he found the time to take Lynn first. When Mom showed Dad the photos, his face changed immediately. He insisted, “Those pictures are fake, edited. They mean nothing.” But in that moment, Mom’s eyes were full of sorrow. She softly said, “Ryan, what did you promise me when we got married? That you would love only me, that you’d be faithful.” “Otherwise, why would I have stayed here at all?” Dad responded, “Haven’t I treated you well? I’ve given you a multimillion-dollar house, a diamond ring worth hundreds of thousands, designer clothes. Haven’t I given you everything you wanted?” Mom shook her head and whispered, “We just don’t understand each other anymore.” She started throwing Dad’s clothes and shoes out of the house. Dad, humiliated, said he wasn’t coming back. And after that day, he really did move out. Not long after, Lynn’s apartment caught fire, and she moved in with Dad. When Mom found out, she didn’t cry. She just held me gently. Mom said that she had finally understood—people change, love changes, and promises only hold weight when they are first made. But she had realized this too late. There was no going back now. 8 That night, I squeezed my own toothpaste onto my brush, brushed my teeth, and wiped down my small body with a towel. Then I climbed into bed beside Mom and hugged her. Even though her body had already grown stiff, and her skin was cold, as long as she was still lying there, I felt a kind of happiness. Once, I had asked Mom, “Mom, what was your mom like?” My mom didn’t have a dad. Her mom had been her only family back then. Mom said that her mom was very strict with her, always scolding and punishing her when she didn’t do her homework. I furrowed my brow, confused. Why would Mom still miss her mom after that? Sometimes, when Mom had nightmares, she didn’t call out Dad’s name. She cried out, “Mom.” Mom’s voice softened as she told me more. “But when I was sixteen, and I was diagnosed with leukemia, my mom stopped being so hard on me.” “She quit her job, sold our house, and spent every single day taking care of me by my bedside.” “My mom loved me very much.” As she spoke, her voice was tinged with both pride and sadness. I knew then that Mom had never really forgotten about her mom. Because when she came to this world at eighteen, she was still just a young girl herself. On the day Mom discovered Dad had taken Lynn on vacation, she sat by the window and cried quietly. Mom said she shouldn’t have let love cloud her judgment, making her give up everything—even her own mother, who she would never see again. 9 Mom had actually asked Dad for a divorce. A month after Dad moved out, Mom messaged him, asking him to come home. Dad showed up in a black suit, looking more handsome than ever with his slicked-back hair. That day, Mom cooked a whole table full of dishes. Dad seemed pleased with himself and said, “Have you finally made up your mind?” I sat eagerly at the table, watching them, hoping they would make up. But then Mom put down her chopsticks and said, “Ryan, I want a divorce.” I was old enough to know what divorce meant. Divorce meant Dad and Mom would be apart forever, and we would hardly ever be together again. When Dad heard those words, his expression changed instantly. “Merry, you want a divorce over something so small?” “Is this really necessary? I didn’t do anything with Lynn. I still love you. Can’t you be a little more forgiving?” Mom calmly responded, “This isn’t something small to me.” “You broke your promise, you betrayed our love. How can I just overlook that?” Dad started to panic but got angry instead, saying, “And where will you go if we divorce?” “Besides Erin and me, who do you even know here?” Mom’s voice cracked as she replied, “I’ll go out and meet people. If I have no money, I’ll wash dishes and mop floors. I’ll manage to raise Erin on my own.” Dad scoffed and tossed a final remark over his shoulder as he walked out the door, “Go ahead and try.” Over the next few days, Mom sent out countless job applications, but every single one was rejected. Mom didn’t give up and submitted some resumes hundreds, even thousands of times. Finally, someone told her, “Ms. Merry, Ryan Dane has put the word out. No one’s going to hire you.” Soon after, a lawyer arrived at our door with some documents. Mom asked, “What’s this?” The lawyer replied, “This is a comparison of your assets with Mr. Dane’s.” “If you go to court to fight for custody of your daughter, I’m afraid you won’t stand a chance.” He adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry to say, but you don’t have any winning arguments.” Mom’s face went pale. I clung to her clothes but didn’t dare say a word. Soon, Dad’s relatives flooded the house. They surrounded Mom, bombarding her with accusations. “Ryan is such a good catch. You still want to divorce him? You won’t get another chance like this.” “You’re so ungrateful. What does Ryan even see in you?” Mom coldly responded, “Don’t bother trying to convince me. I’m going to divorce him.” Someone softened their tone, trying to appeal to her emotions. “Merry, think about your daughter. She’s so grown up now. How would she feel if her parents divorced?” Mom hesitated. A chorus of voices followed. “That’s right. Children need a stable home.” “Everything should be for the sake of the child. What’s so hard to forgive?” One of them nudged me forward and asked, smiling, “Erin, do you want your parents to get divorced?” “If they do, you’ll be a child without a mom.” I couldn’t hold back my tears. I hugged Mom tightly, terrified, and pleaded, “Mom, please, don’t leave Dad. Don’t leave me.” Mom gazed at me, dazed, her eyes welling up with tears too. “Fine.” It was just a soft whisper, barely audible, like a sigh. Mom gave up. I thought this would be enough to keep her with me forever. But I didn’t understand then—some birds can’t be caged. Their wings sparkle with freedom, and no cage can hold them.

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Just one month after my parents’ unexpected passing, my husband proposed a fake divorce. He claimed he was fighting for an inheritance and didn’t want me to get caught up in it. To protect my safety, he said we’d remarry once he secured the inheritance. I agreed on the surface but laughed coldly inside. He thought I didn’t know, but he and his mistress had already planned everything on his backup phone. There was no inheritance – what he really wanted was the $2 million my parents had left me! At 1:30 AM, after sorting through my parents’ belongings, I returned to our apartment complex. Seeing the lights on in our unit, I felt a warmth in my heart. During this difficult time, even though I tried to stay strong on the outside, I longed for a moment to quietly lean on someone for support. “Yale, I thought you said you’d be away on a business trip for a week. Why are you back already?” I asked as I opened the door, spotting Yale sitting in the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, playing on his phone. He seemed to be looking at something amusing, his smile growing wider. Hearing my voice, he locked his phone and walked over, taking the suitcase from my hand. “The trip was originally planned for three days, but something came up at the company, so I came back early,” he explained. “You probably haven’t eaten yet. There’s a sandwich I brought back on the table. Eat up, and then I need to talk to you about something.” “I’m not hungry. What did you want to tell me?” I grabbed a glass of warm water and sat on the living room couch, waiting for him to put my things away in the bedroom. After setting down the suitcase, Yale sat next to me and pulled me into his arms. “Honey, I need to go back home to fight for my family inheritance.” Leaning against his chest, feeling the warmth he provided, I asked, “Do you need my help?” Yale straightened my posture and looked into my eyes intently. “No need, I can handle it myself. But to protect your safety and prevent other competitors from using you to threaten me, I need to pretend to divorce you for a while.” Hearing this, I was stunned. I shifted away from him slightly. Confused, I asked directly, “Pretend to divorce? What do you mean? Do we really need to get divorced?” “Honey, listen to me. The divorce would just be for show. We’d only get the divorce certificate, but we’d still live together,” Yale explained. “Abby, you have to trust me. I swear on our eight years together, as soon as I get the inheritance, we’ll remarry immediately. I promise.” Yale held my hands, his eyes full of sincerity. “Let’s forget about it. We don’t need that money anyway,” I said. Yale’s after-tax monthly income was $1,000, and I made $1,500. It wasn’t a lot, but we lived in an apartment my parents had bought for me before our marriage, and my car was also a gift from my dad. When they were alive, my parents often helped us out financially. Besides Yale’s monthly car payment of $450 and $200 he sent to his parents, we didn’t have many big expenses. “Plus, after my parents passed away, the inheritance I received is enough for us to live comfortably just from the interest in the bank. You don’t need to do this,” I added. Yale lowered his head and remained silent for about three or four minutes before speaking again: “Abby, you know that my parents married against my family’s wishes years ago, which led to them living in poverty all these years. They’ve always felt guilty that they couldn’t buy us anything when we got married. Now that there’s finally a chance to divide the family assets, they just want to help us out a bit.” “The neighbors keep saying that they finally had me, only for me to become a live-in son-in-law to a rich family. They feel like they can’t hold their heads up high.” “Abby, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault for not being capable enough, making you and my parents lose face.” I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. Should I tell him his parents wouldn’t feel guilty about him being a live-in son-in-law? After all, they often asked me for money behind Yale’s back. Or should I say that I wouldn’t feel ashamed because of him? Even when others teased him, no matter how much I argued in his defense, it was still his pride that got hurt. “Honey, can you give me some time to think about it?” Considering his feelings, I lowered my head.

Yale and I were college classmates. I majored in nursing, while he studied accounting. We shouldn’t have had any connection, but a friend of mine in the kickboxing club was his classmate. That’s how we met. He pursued me for a whole year after that, and I was moved by his sincerity and agreed to be with him. I had told him that I wanted to return to my hometown after graduation. As an only child, I couldn’t move far away. He joked that I shouldn’t worry, he could move in with my family. When we graduated, he received an offer from a prestigious company, and I became a nurse at a hospital. In our fourth year of working, we naturally held our wedding ceremony. After knowing each other for nine years, perhaps I should trust him. Yale went on another business trip. After considering for a week, I decided to agree to his request for a “fake divorce.” Thinking that he would return from his trip tomorrow afternoon, which happened to be my day off, I rarely felt motivated to do a deep clean of our home. We had a housekeeper who regularly cleaned the house, but Yale and I cleaned the study ourselves because it contained company documents. While cleaning, I noticed Yale’s backup phone sitting on the desk next to a potted plant, in danger of falling if bumped. I knew this backup phone was the one he usually used for gaming. Afraid it might fall and break, I picked up the phone intending to put it in the drawer. Then I remembered the game he had recommended to me recently, so I set down the cleaning cloth and decided to take a break. As I was logging into the game, a SnapChat message popped up. I meant to swipe it away, but accidentally opened it instead. Looking at the dense, intimate chat history, I finally understood. He didn’t want a “fake divorce” – he wanted a real one. If I were the protagonist in a tragic novel, I might ask on Twitter: “My parents passed away unexpectedly just a month ago, and I discovered my husband is cheating. Do I not deserve love?” Unfortunately, I’m not. So after the initial anger and heartbreak, I quickly pulled myself together. I ordered a new phone of the same model as Yale’s backup phone, smashed it into two pieces, and placed it on the computer desk along with the fallen potted plant. I opened my phone’s camera, recorded a video of the scene, and sent it to Yale with the message: “Honey, I’m so sorry. While cleaning, I accidentally knocked over the potted plant and your phone fell to the ground. Was there any important data on your phone? I’ll take it for repair right away, but I don’t know if the data can be recovered. I’m really sorry, honey.” I cleaned up the remains of the potted plant and the new phone, then took the intact backup phone to see my best friend, Summer. Summer is my childhood friend who studied law and opened her own law firm after graduation. Since he wants a divorce, let’s make sure he leaves with nothing. As I was driving, Yale replied to my message. He told me to just throw away the broken phone, saying there was no important data on it. He asked me not to feel guilty and said he would bring me a gift when he returned from his business trip. I don’t know when the person sleeping next to me became so shameless, or perhaps he had always been shameless and just hid it well before.

After reading the chat history, Summer cursed loudly in her office. If she wasn’t worried about alerting Yale, she would have called him directly to curse him out. As for me, perhaps the shock was too great, and my body activated its self-protection mechanism, allowing me to deal with the situation calmly. Summer hugged me in anguish, hoping I would cry and not keep it all bottled up inside. But I really couldn’t cry. Seeing her cry so miserably, without her usual polished city woman look, I felt Yale truly deserved to die. Leaving him with nothing was too lenient; he should be beaten up. I hired a private investigator to follow Yale, hoping to find something that could ruin his reputation. I called Yale and told him that Summer was going through some issues, so I needed to stay with her for a couple of days. I agreed to the divorce and said we’d discuss the details when he got home. I moved into Summer’s place. Summer held back her anger, and I suppressed my disgust as we stayed up late reviewing all the chat histories and transfer records from Yale’s SnapChat account. Fortunately, our efforts paid off. In Yale’s conversations with the other woman, there were descriptions of him accepting bribes from business partners. I felt a surge of excitement. I knew Yale was finished! On the third day, when I returned home after work, Yale was already busy in the kitchen wearing an apron. Who would have thought that a man with such a down-to-earth, family-oriented image would start cheating just six months into our marriage with a recent college graduate from his company? “Abby, go wash your hands first. Dinner will be ready soon,” Yale called out from the kitchen without turning around when he heard the door open. “Okay.” I washed my hands and sat at the dining table, trying to compose myself. Before seeing him, I could still remain calm. But face-to-face, my anger surged, and I just wanted to tear off his mask. After dinner, Yale brought over a divorce agreement. “Abby, we need to make this look real, so I’ve drawn up a divorce agreement. But don’t worry, it’s just for show,” Yale explained nervously as he watched me flip through the contents. He had the audacity to split my parents’ inheritance with me?! “Honey, why did you include my parents’ inheritance in this? Isn’t that a mistake?” I glared at him, wanting to kill him on the spot! “Sweetheart, your parents passed away without leaving a will, so legally this is considered marital property. Most of our assets are from before our marriage, so if we don’t split this $2 million inheritance, people might get suspicious. Don’t worry, it’s just on paper. All of this is yours, and I’ll transfer it back to you as soon as we remarry,” Yale hurriedly came over to embrace me, expressing his sincerity. Hah, believing he’d return the money was as likely as believing a meat bun stolen by a vicious dog would come back intact.

“Honey, you’re not planning to turn this fake divorce into a real one and take the money, are you?” I pulled away from him and continued flipping through the agreement. Yale moved closer and patted my hand. “Honey, what do I need to do for you to trust me? How about I transfer my car to your name?” I rolled my eyes, thinking to myself that who knows if the car would be seized when his ill-gotten gains are confiscated. Pretending to go along with it, I said, “Honey, I believe you. After all, you swore on our eight years together. If you can’t keep that promise, you’d be ruined and deserve a miserable death, right?” I noticed his body stiffen for a moment, though he quickly recovered. “Honey, I can sign the agreement, but we’ve always had such a good relationship. People won’t believe we’re suddenly getting divorced, will they?” I nestled into Yale’s arms and spoke softly. “There’s no way around it, the timing is tight,” Yale said, stroking my hair. Disgusted, I sat up straight and pouted at him, “Honey, I have a good idea.” “How about this: we’ll have a fight later, and I’ll accuse you of having an affair. Then I’ll beat you up a bit. I’ve trained in kickboxing and have medical knowledge, so I’ll avoid vital areas.” “When the neighbors hear us fighting, they’ll definitely call the police. Since we’re married, and it’s not a severe case of domestic violence, the police will just give a warning. You can say you forgive me. If we do this two or three times, everyone will sympathize with you, and they’ll understand when you ask for a divorce.” How wonderful to be able to beat him up openly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Yale hesitated. “Then let’s forget about the divorce. Otherwise, people will start rumors if I get divorced right after my parents passed away,” I turned away, ignoring him. “Don’t be angry, we’ll do it your way,” Yale quickly pulled me close to comfort me. “Okay, let’s go to the entrance. We’re about to start. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” I led Yale to the foyer and began shouting. “Yale, do you have any conscience? My parents just passed away, and you want to divorce me!” “When my parents were alive, they even gave you money to help support your parents back home, and you dare to cheat on me so soon after we got married! You’ve lost your heart to a dog!” “Yale, people like you deserve to be ruined!” I shouted out all my true feelings and vented my anger through physical force. Yale yelped and cried out, and every time he tried to explain, I silenced him with my fists. The neighbors who watched the commotion kindly called the police and stood at the stairway trying to persuade me to talk things out calmly. I chased Yale from the entrance to the hallway and back into the apartment. When I stopped, his face was bruised and swollen, looking quite pitiful. “Honey, I’m sorry. There were too many people watching, so I couldn’t go easy on you. Otherwise, they might have thought we were just acting. Are you okay?” I apologized while tending to Yale’s wounds. Yale was groaning in pain, even flinching as I applied medicine. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you slap me twice? It breaks my heart to see you like this.” My tears fell on cue – the Academy owes me an Oscar. Yale was about to scold me, but seeing me cry so heartbrokenly, he quickly came over to comfort me. “Abby, it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that much. You did this for me, don’t cry.” Seeing Yale grimacing in pain while trying to comfort me, I felt a pang in my heart. Yale, this is just the interest on your deception.

The police arrived quickly, but since Yale and I had already reconciled, they just gave us a warning and left after we explained the situation. “Honey, let’s not get divorced. How could I bring myself to hit you again next time…” I cried, my eyes red and swollen. “Huh? There’s going to be a next time?” Yale’s eyes widened. “At least twice, right? Otherwise, how will people believe us after just once? Honey, let’s forget about it. Let’s just live our life together. You know I don’t mind that you don’t earn much,” I secretly provoked Yale, afraid he might not want to be hit again. “Fine, I’ve already been hit once, so one more time is okay. But that’s really the last time, alright?” he said. It seems the temptation of the inheritance and the other woman was quite strong if he was willing to be beaten again. After this injury, Yale stayed home for a week to recover. The injuries weren’t severe, but his bruised face made him too embarrassed to go out. I also took good care of him, attending to his needs. You have to fatten the pig before slaughtering it, right? Meanwhile, the private investigator uncovered some news: Yale’s family had no plans to divide any inheritance. Instead, his younger brother owed a large sum to loan sharks!

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In my last life, Mrs. Margaret White, my teacher, led the bullying against me, simply because I scored better than the boy she favoured. She spread rumours in class, saying I cheated and was involved in a relationship. She would say, “Some people’s marks have suddenly shot up, but we all know how they got there.” She’d add, “Some people spend all day not studying and only know how to lead people astray!” She stoked the flames, getting the whole class to turn against me, and in the end, it drove me to depression and forced me to drop out. This time, however, I was back on the day she started spreading the rumour about me cheating. I raised my hand and said: “Miss, last time I handed in my homework, I saw you sitting on Max Turner’s lap. Is that how you improve his grades?” The mock exam results had come out, and I had moved up thirty places. I’d gone from the bottom of the class to the middle. Alice Bennett stared at my paper, “Liv, you’re smashing it!” Alice is my best friend, always encouraging me. We were inseparable in school. In my previous life, when I was depressed and dropped out, she tried her hardest to convince me to stay. After I took my own life, she nearly fainted from crying. Now that I had another chance at life, I looked at the test paper on my desk, but I wasn’t particularly happy. I knew trouble was coming my way. Mrs. White strode into the room, her stiletto heels clicking as she swayed her hips. “I’ve put the class rankings on the board. You can check after class.” “But first, I want to talk about two students, Olivia Williams and Max Turner.” Mrs. White walked over to Max’s desk. Max sat alone, near the front. She pretended to comfort him, patting him on the shoulder. “You didn’t do so well this time, Max. Olivia’s overtaken you.” Max nodded, but from where I sat, I could see him nudge Mrs. White’s lower back with his elbow. Disgusting. Alice immediately jumped to my defence, “What’s that supposed to mean, Mrs. White?” Mrs. White snorted, her expression turning condescending. “Students falling behind is fine. As the form tutor, it’s my job to focus on those who need to catch up. As long as they want to learn, it’s no problem.” “But what concerns me are those with ulterior motives.” “How someone’s grades improved so quickly, I’m not sure. I don’t want to investigate, and frankly, I’m too tired to bother. I’ll spare her the embarrassment by not naming names.” I stared at Mrs. White as she twisted the truth on the podium, and it brought me right back to the last time. Once or twice, I had outscored Max Turner. She began calling me out during assemblies, saying, “Some people’s marks have suddenly shot up, but we all know how they got there.” Then I borrowed a book from the library, and the student council president, Samuel Turner, helped me. Mrs. White saw this. She spread another rumour, “Some people never study and just spend their time seducing others!” She led the class in isolating me. In lessons, she wouldn’t ask me questions. After class, she refused to mark my homework. Even when I handed it in, she wouldn’t grade it. It got worse—she stopped giving me study materials, and when the school counted the class roll, I wasn’t included. Teenagers can be simple and cruel. When a teacher dislikes a student, how can that student have any friends? At that point, Alice was the only one who still talked to me, but Mrs. White eventually transferred her to another class. After that, I was completely alone. Rumours spread, the teacher hated me, my classmates bullied me, and eventually, I dropped out due to depression and ended my life. And all of it because I scored better than Max, the teacher’s favourite. This time, the story started the same way. So I raised my hand and said, “Miss, last time when I handed in my homework, I saw you sitting on Max Turner’s lap. Is that how you improve his grades?” Mrs. White’s face went pale. “What on earth are you talking about, girl?” “Not only do you cheat, but you’re a liar too!” I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Miss, what are you on about?” “Weren’t you unsteady on your feet, and Max was just helping you out? You accidentally ended up on his lap, didn’t you?” Mrs. White’s face flushed from blue to white, then back again. “Yes, I wasn’t steady on my feet.” Of course, that wasn’t what had happened, but my intention was only to give her a little warning. Still, the students started buzzing. After all, we were teenagers. Mrs. White quickly shouted, “Alright, enough! Quiet down, let’s get back to class!” After the lesson, Mrs. White hurried out without even stopping to talk to Max. Once she left, my classmates swarmed around me. “Olivia, is what you said really true?” “Did Mrs. White and Max actually… you know?” “She does walk like that… I always thought she was a bit much.” I calmly packed my books away. Alice was watching me with concern. I finished tidying up and grabbed Alice’s arm, “Let’s head to the toilets.” As we walked away, I turned to the nosy crowd. “The teacher said she was just unsteady on her feet. That’s all I know, so don’t drag me into it. Mrs. White already doesn’t like me.” Then I pulled Alice along, leaving the gossip behind. When someone spreads rumours about you, the best way to fight back is to start an even bigger, juicier rumour—especially if it’s not entirely false. Mrs. White was implying that my grades came from cheating, so I hinted at something just as inappropriate. Students love gossip. Even the slightest hint of a scandal draws them in. And what’s more explosive than a cheating scandal? A teacher-student affair. I had planted the seed. If they were curious, they could find out for themselves. Let’s just hope Mrs. White keeps her secrets well hidden from these curious teenagers. On the way to the toilets, Alice Bennett seemed like she had something she wanted to say to me, but she kept hesitating. When we finally got to the toilets, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Liv, I’m worried Mrs. White is going to come after you.” “She won’t. Why would she, unless she has something to hide?” “But… did she really sit on Max’s lap that day…?” I quickly shushed her. “Careful! Walls have ears!” Alice looked around nervously and nodded, grabbing my hand as we hurried out of the toilets. High school is supposed to be wonderful, the time we’ll remember forever. Alice tugged me along, glancing back to urge me. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late for class!” I felt a twinge of guilt. I was using her. It wasn’t just that walls might have ears; they did have ears. I had noticed there were other girls in the next stall when I mentioned Mrs. White. I said it on purpose—I wanted her reputation ruined. I wanted her to go through exactly what I went through. Every bit of it.

Rumours about Mrs. White began to spread throughout the school. She tried to change her appearance, dressing in plain, casual clothes and swapping her stilettos for flats. It seemed like she was attempting to repair her image. But, of course, the rumours only grew. “Mrs. White’s not wearing heels anymore. Do you reckon she’s pregnant?” “Definitely. My mum wore flats and loose clothes when she was pregnant with my brother.” “So, who do you reckon the father is?” “Do you even need to ask?” The students whispered and laughed, filling the corridors with gossip. Mrs. White clearly heard them, as she yelled for everyone to be quiet, dragging the group of whisperers outside for a telling-off. You could hear her scolding them down the whole corridor. The next day, she returned to her usual attire, as if to prove she wasn’t pregnant. But it was useless. Mrs. White no longer called Max into her office as often. Instead, she frequently summoned me. “Clean the office, Olivia.” “Take this pile of books to Mrs. Thompson’s office.” “Get me some water.” She treated me like a servant. Worse still, she always made me do these tasks during lessons. At St. Edmund’s, we had weekly quizzes for every subject, and the form tutor invigilated. Mrs. White waved my quiz results in the air as she stood at the front of the class. “Some students keep visiting the teacher’s office, but instead of improving, their grades are slipping.” Then she held up Max Turner’s paper alongside another student’s. “Look at these students who don’t spend their time in the office. As long as they want to learn, they’ll make progress.” “But some students like to pull stunts to get the teacher’s attention. And after all that attention, they still let the teacher down, even turning on them. It breaks my heart!” It was a clever move. I couldn’t attend lessons properly, which meant I couldn’t keep up. Naturally, my grades started slipping. But, of course, no one else knew that she was pulling me out of class to do her errands. Just then, Mrs. Holy Thompson, the head of discipline, walked past our classroom. Seeing me standing, she asked, “What’s going on here, Margaret?” Mrs. White let out a dramatic sigh, “Well, Olivia’s grades were improving, but now they’re dropping again. I’m worried about her.” Mrs. Thompson took a look at my quiz paper and frowned. “Olivia, this isn’t good enough.” She handed me some extra revision papers. “Come to my office after class. I’ve got a set of past papers for you. Make sure to copy them and share them with the class. It’ll be good practice for everyone.” I nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.” Mrs. Thompson was a well-respected teacher in her fifties. Even the headmaster deferred to her. She smiled and left, leaving Mrs. White fuming. “Well, thank Olivia, everyone. Without her, where would we get these past papers?” Mrs. White’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. But the class wasn’t having any of it. They sincerely shouted, “Thanks, Olivia!” I pressed my lips together and gave a small bow. “Sorry for holding the class back.”

I thought this would be the end of it, but after school, Max Turner blocked my way. I secretly turned on the recording device in my pocket. “What do you want?” Behind him were a few of The Ashford Boys, puffing on cigarettes. Max stepped closer. “What do I want?” “You don’t know what you’ve done? You don’t know who you’ve crossed?” I shouted back that I had no idea. One of The Ashford Boys let out a low whistle. “You’ve crossed Lord Turner!” “Gutsy, aren’t you, going up against Max?” I turned to Max, “So, you’re ‘Lord Turner,’ then?” Max lit a cigarette, smirking. “Who else would it be?” Just then, the headlights of a car shone into the alley. Mrs. White stepped out. She sashayed over to Max, who quickly put his arm around her waist. The boys whistled and cheered, calling her “Mrs. White” and even “sis-in-law.” Mrs. White smirked. “Don’t call me that. You’re not my students, are you? Only Max gets to call me that.” She shot me a cold look before turning to Max. “Do what you want, just don’t kill her.” I understood her meaning clearly—anything goes, as long as I don’t end up dead. Mrs. White drove away, and Max’s group closed in. One of the boys dumped a cup of milkshake over my head, and before I could react, someone grabbed my hair, pulling me to the ground. They dragged me across the pavement, throwing my books out of my bag and stomping on them, spitting and cursing. Max gave the order, “Strip her, take some photos.” A few of them started ripping at my clothes, pulling off layer after layer until only my undergarments remained. I struggled and kicked, and they kicked me back. Suddenly, a police siren blared in the distance, and Max’s group panicked, snapping a few photos before running off. Once they were gone, I scrambled to put my clothes back on and checked my recording device. Still intact. When I looked up, I saw Samuel Turner standing at the end of the alley, watching me. In my past life, he had only helped me pick up a book in the library, but that was enough for Mrs. White to accuse me of seducing him and cheating on my exams. The rumours had destroyed my reputation. Seeing him now, I felt a mix of guilt and confusion. I had never meant to drag him into this. But right now, I must’ve looked a mess. “Did they leave?” Samuel asked quietly. I nodded, realising that he must have been the one to scare them off. He nodded towards the recording device in my hand. “Is it broken?” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” “Hand it over, then.” I stared at him, confused. He adjusted his glasses. “It’s mine. Give it back.” Samuel took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. I suddenly noticed the striking resemblance between him and Max. Especially in their eyes. “I helped you. Don’t you think you owe me something?” I had a suspicion about what he wanted, but I wasn’t sure. I decided to take a gamble. “You want to destroy Max Turner. We can work together, but I’m not giving up control.” Samuel blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing. “Whoever said you were stupid? You’re sharper than I thought.” “Alright. How do you want to work together?” “I want Mrs. White to lose everything. And as for whatever Max does along the way, I’ll record it all and hand it to you.” Samuel held out his hand. “Deal?”

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After David finished his undercover operation, it was as if he had become a completely different person. He would often sit by himself, staring out the window, his eyes clouded with a sadness and melancholy that seemed impossible to shake. He no longer lifted our daughter in the air, spinning her around, calling her his little princess. He didn’t come home with surprise bouquets anymore, and even when I tried to be affectionate, he would awkwardly pull away. Then, on the night of Grace’s accident, I saw him standing in the rain, tenderly but desperately kissing another woman. I was still in a meeting when I got the call about Grace’s accident. Hearing the words “died on the spot” felt like a lightning bolt had struck straight through my chest, leaving me shattered. I rushed to Greenwood Memorial Funeral Home, nearly losing my mind, only to see my daughter’s twisted body lying on a cold metal table. The yellow floral sundress I had lovingly put on her that morning was now her burial shroud. The room was chaotic. Some people tried to comfort me, others were questioning what happened. The truck driver was nervously explaining, “She ran across the street! It wasn’t my fault, she came out of nowhere!” I collapsed on the floor, screaming in despair, “She would never run across the street! Where was her father? Where is he?!” “Mrs. Harris, your daughter got off the City Metro Bus alone. We didn’t see any adult with her,” the officer said gently, his voice full of pity. I had always been the one to take Grace to her after-school arts program, except for this one time when she carefully asked if her dad could take her instead. Since David had come back from his year-long undercover work, he had grown distant, cold toward both Grace and me. He spent hours staring off into space, avoiding eye contact, and had stopped calling me “Emma,” switching to the more formal “Mrs. Harris.” He’d make excuses to sit in the car smoking, and when Grace tried to cuddle, he seemed uncomfortable, sometimes even annoyed. Grace, once showered with his affection, didn’t understand why her daddy had changed. In her innocent way, she thought spending time with him might help. I agreed, sent them off, and went to my meeting. I never imagined that this one small decision would cost my daughter her life. I kept calling David, but all I got was a busy signal. With my mother-in-law Carol gravely ill and my parents far away, I was left to face the weight of this tragedy alone. Eventually, with my signature on a piece of paper, Grace was reduced to a small box of ashes. I returned to Pine Ridge Estates, holding her urn like a lifeless shell of myself, only to be stunned by what I saw. David was standing there in the pouring rain, gently tilting another woman’s face up and kissing her deeply. The woman was small and frail, slowly sinking into his embrace as he held her tightly. They kissed with such intensity, they didn’t even notice me standing there, watching. In my mind, scenes of Grace’s horrific death blended with the sight before me, creating a surreal, grotesque picture. At that moment, I didn’t know whether to feel rage or sorrow. I had no energy to scream or confront him. I just stood there, completely numb. I should have seen it coming. David’s job was always unpredictable, and when I married him, I knew I’d have to manage the household on my own. For seven years, I worked during the day and cared for my ailing mother-in-law at night. I took care of every detail of our new home by myself, even carrying tiles up six flights of stairs to save a few hundred dollars. When the neighbors tried to take advantage of me, I had to grab a kitchen knife just to defend myself. Later, during my pregnancy, I fainted in the bathroom and wasn’t found for seven or eight hours. I went through prenatal checkups alone, always feeling out of place among the couples at the clinic. When my water broke in the middle of the night, I took a cab to Saint Mary’s Hospital by myself and signed my own paperwork. In my saddest moments, David wasn’t there. In my happiest moments, he still wasn’t there. I was like a lone ranger, and when people asked where my husband was, I could only give vague answers due to the nature of his work. Eventually, people started to assume I was a widow.

I always told myself it was worth it. He loved his job, and I loved him. We had good times too. When he wasn’t too busy, he’d drive two hours just to buy me a small cake. He’d come home from work with a bouquet of roses. When I was recovering from childbirth, he stayed up all night taking care of Grace, changing diapers, feeding her, handling the housework like a pro. He used to cup my face in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine, and say, “Emma, you’ve done so much. Without you, we wouldn’t have this family.” “I’ll always love you.” Then he left for a year. I didn’t know exactly what his undercover work involved, but I once ran into him at a fish market, chopping fish with the skill of someone who’d seen more than he should. We pretended to be strangers that day, and for a whole year, I heard nothing from him. When David came back, it was like he was someone else. He could go an entire day without saying a word. He stopped caring about anything in the house. At night, he’d lie next to me in bed, but it felt like a chasm separated us. Our home was filled with awkward silences. I tried to bridge the gap between us, but David avoided me at every turn, eventually looking at me with a cold, almost mocking expression. “I never realized how much you wanted sex,” he said once, his tone dripping with sarcasm. It was only now that I finally understood what had gone wrong between us. I stood there for a long time, until the girl finally noticed me. She panicked, pushing David away, her face flushed with embarrassment as she hid in his arms. For a brief moment, David looked flustered too, before quickly regaining his composure. He shielded the girl behind him, calmly saying, “Emma, she’s innocent. Don’t take this out on her. I’ll explain everything when we get home…” “No need,” I said coldly, staring at the man I once loved. I asked slowly and deliberately, “I told you to take Grace to her after-school program. Where were you?” “I got a work call,” David replied, looking guilty. “I couldn’t get away. I saw Grace get on the bus. It was just two blocks after she got off, she knows the way.” A stabbing pain shot through my chest, bending me over as tears mixed with the rain on my face. Grace was only four years old, and he had left her to take a half-hour bus ride alone, then walk another mile. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the world could be, but he still chose to ignore the risks for his own daughter. “Was that work call to kiss this woman?!” My voice rose as I pointed at the girl trembling in his arms. She looked young, probably a college student. She bit her lip nervously, startled by my accusation. David instinctively held her closer, whispering reassurances before turning back to me with irritation in his voice. “Emma, stop scaring her. You used to be more understanding of my job’s demands…” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I lunged at him, slapping him hard across the face. The girl screamed, touching David’s face in concern, her expression filled with sympathy. “We’re getting divorced,” I said, my voice cold and final. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away. Two hours later, David returned. When he saw that I had packed up most of the house, he frowned deeply. “I’m exhausted, can you stop acting like a child and throwing tantrums?” “You think this is a tantrum?” I asked, my voice drained of emotion. I was too tired to even argue anymore.

“David, do you even care about this family anymore? If you did, Grace wouldn’t have—” “Tiffany is like a sister to me,” David interrupted harshly. He fell silent for a long time before he finally began to tell me about the girl. “She’s been taking care of me this whole year. She’s done so much for me.” As he talked about Tiffany, his face softened. “She’s just a kid. She knew I was married, but she couldn’t help falling for me.” “She loves watching superhero shows, has a thing for saving people. She’s gotten into some dangerous situations trying to help me.” “She’s carefree, always wearing short skirts and not caring if they ride up. She even complains that I’m too strict about it.” “We spent so many nights huddled together for warmth, holding hands, legs tangled. She’d talk endlessly about her little problems—like missing credits for graduation or annoying roommates…” He smiled wistfully, as if reliving a more carefree time in his life. “I know our relationship has crossed a line,” he finally admitted, closing his eyes as if in pain. “She’s young and doesn’t understand, but I should. I’ve already cost her a year of her life. I can’t keep holding her back.” It was hard to breathe. Did David even realize what he was saying? He was standing there, telling his wife about his love affair with someone else. It felt like I was the one intruding on his and Tiffany’s love story, as if I was the third wheel, forcing him to give up his true love just to fulfill his responsibilities to our family. David remembered all that Tiffany had done for him. But what about me? Didn’t my seven years of love, my seven years of loyalty, mean anything? After a long silence, I managed to speak. “I’ll give you your freedom.” I grabbed my suitcase and pushed past him, heading for the stairs. David caught my hand, meeting my gaze with a hint of desperation. “Emma, I swear, tonight was the last time I’ll ever see her. I still love you. I want us to give Grace a complete family…” “Don’t you dare mention Grace!” I lost control and hurled my bag at him. The sharp edge of a decoration inside the bag sliced his face and neck, and blood started dripping down. He stood there, stunned, as I walked out without looking back. I rented a small apartment near my office. While dealing with lawyers and packing up my things, I also handled the painful task of arranging Grace’s funeral. In the midst of all this, the hospital called. “Mrs. Harris, your mother-in-law’s condition has worsened. Please come as soon as possible.” My heart clenched, and I quickly grabbed my bag and rushed out. Carol was in the final stages of cancer. Ever since I married David, I had taken on the responsibility of caring for her—handling her daily needs, fetching her medication, and managing her treatments. I couldn’t relieve her pain, but I did everything else I could for her. For seven years, through rain or shine, I made sure to be by her side at the hospital at least four days a week. But for the last two days, with everything happening after Grace’s death, I hadn’t been able to visit her. My mind had been consumed with my own grief and the chaos surrounding it. When I arrived at the hospital, I hurriedly pushed open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Tiffany sitting at Carol’s bedside, smiling brightly as she fed her soup. She wasn’t dressed the way David had described—no short skirts, nothing carefree about her. Instead, she wore long sleeves and pants, modest and neat, looking like the picture-perfect girl next door. Seeing her, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of admiration. Carol seemed completely at ease with her, the two of them chatting happily, almost like mother and daughter. “…Mom,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from exhaustion. Carol turned to me with a warm smile, waving me over. “Emma, come here! This is Tiffany, David’s colleague’s sister. Did he tell you about her?” Tiffany froze when she saw me, her face immediately showing her nervousness. She slowly stood up from the chair, awkwardly fidgeting like a scared rabbit. She mumbled, “We… we’ve met before…” I didn’t say anything, and as the silence stretched, Tiffany’s eyes grew red, tears welling up as she hurriedly ran out of the room, only to bump into David, who had just entered. Seeing him, Tiffany let out a sigh of relief, clutching his sleeve like a lifeline as she hid behind him, her eyes still full of fear. David was holding a medical report in his hand, his brow furrowed as he looked at me accusingly. “Emma, if you have issues with me, that’s fine. But my mom has never done anything to you. Is this how you’ve been taking care of her?” He threw the report onto me, and the words “critical condition,” “organ failure,” and “imminent death” stared back at me from the page. Before I could even speak, Carol’s voice boomed from the bed, “You shut your mouth!” “Without Emma, I’d have died in this hospital with no one to look after me a long time ago! You, on the other hand, barely visit me once in a blue moon. What gives you the right to accuse her of anything?!”

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My mum had been widowed for years, but all of a sudden, she turned into a hopeless romantic. She became the other woman, fully aware of the man’s marriage, and in the end, she actually succeeded in winning over a married man. After living through it once, I swore I wouldn’t let my family be her emotional collateral again. But then, she ended up killing the man she loved with her own hands. 1、 Granny sighed with both concern and frustration. “What on earth is your mum thinking? Leaving you at home with a fever like this and running off, completely neglecting you.” I lay weakly on the hospital bed. “Mum’s gone to bring food to Mr. Dean. Granny, don’t be too hard on her.” “It’s just a fever,” I muttered, trying to make excuses for her, “I’ll be fine after taking some medicine.” I was pale, my voice hoarse, yet I still defended my mum. Mr. Dean was Mum’s new match from an arranged date. After my dad passed away two years ago, Granny had introduced James Dean to her. Mum fell for James at first sight, but she had no idea he already had a wife. James’s wife, Martha, was terminally ill. She wanted to find him a good woman who could take care of him and their son after she passed. It was her dying wish. And so, James had reluctantly agreed to start dating again. As absurd as the whole situation was, Mum sympathized with James. She thought it showed he had a strong sense of responsibility. Granny had scolded everyone involved—Mum, James, and the matchmaker. If it hadn’t been for me ending up in the hospital with a fever, Granny might have never found out they were still seeing each other. Mrs. Daisy Fletcher, our neighbour, sighed as she stood nearby. “If that poor child hadn’t crawled out of the house on her own, who knows what would’ve happened.” “She hasn’t even gotten a new stepdad yet, but it seems she’s already got a new stepmum.” Granny stroked my head gently and sighed again. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I lowered my head. But inside, I was laughing coldly. In my past life, Mum had thrown one sentence at me before rushing out of the door: “Lizzy, you’re old enough now to understand. Mr. Dean needs me, and I’ve got to help him.” She’d hurried off to bring James his food, leaving me at home, burning up with a fever that wouldn’t break. I’d tried to call for an ambulance, but I couldn’t find my phone. By the time she’d taken me to the hospital, the damage was done—my brain was permanently affected, and I became… slow. But this time, I’d fought through the fever, dragged myself to the door, and crawled out into the hallway, where I was lucky enough to run into Mrs. Fletcher… The door to my hospital room creaked open, and Mum barged in, already complaining. “Mum, why didn’t anyone tell me Lizzy had been taken to the hospital?” Mrs. Fletcher, who had long lost patience with Mum, didn’t hold back, not even in front of Granny. “All you ever think about is men. You’ve got no time for your daughter, do you?” “If I hadn’t found Lizzy when I did, her brain might have been damaged beyond repair, and you’d be none the wiser.” “You’re so desperate to please that man, you don’t even care about your own daughter anymore?” Feeling the stares of everyone in the room, Mum flushed with embarrassment but stayed silent. Granny, though annoyed, tried to soften things. “Well, Lizzy said she couldn’t find her phone. Why don’t you give her a call?” Mum, quick to take the lifeline, pretended to rummage through her bag. When she finally pulled out her phone, mine tumbled out with it. A look of guilt flashed across her face. “Ah, I must’ve picked it up by mistake.” And then I understood. Mum knew full well I was burning up with a high fever. But to avoid being disturbed, she’d taken my phone, cutting off my only way to call for help. Granny immediately grasped the situation, her expression turning thunderous. Mrs. Fletcher let out a loud, cold laugh. 2、 During my hospital stay, no one treated Mum with any kindness. After the first couple of days, when she made a brief visit to see me, she spent most of her time rushing off to see James, almost forgetting I existed. Soon enough, I was discharged from the hospital. On that day, Granny made sure to call Mum, warning her to come and collect me. Mum showed up reluctantly. Thanks to Mrs. Fletcher’s talent for gossip, it wasn’t long before Mum’s affair became the talk of Maplewood Estate. As we walked in, I could hear the neighbours gossiping. “I heard from Daisy that Lizzy’s mum’s seeing someone new.” “Well, that’s her choice, but couldn’t she find someone who wasn’t married with kids? Shameful.” “When her husband was alive, he treated her so well. And now she’s neglecting poor Lizzy like this. Disgraceful.” “Ah, she’s back. Best not say more…” Mum, though fuming, couldn’t deny the truth of their words. Granny’s expression grew darker, her silence ominous like the calm before a storm. In my past life, after I became slow, Mum had played the victim, always crying about how tough life was for a widow with a daughter to raise. Everyone pitied her. No one knew that when I’d had a raging fever, Mum was busy trying to please James and his family. Back at home, Granny finally confronted Mum. “So, what’s really going on between you and James Dean?” Mum shifted uncomfortably. “James has had it hard, you know. His wife can’t bear to leave him and their son behind. He just wants to give her peace of mind.” “Mum, do you have any idea how rare it is to find such a responsible man? He’s been so good to his wife, even as she’s dying. Just think how happy we’ll be once we’re married.” “I have to help him, Mum. I can’t let him carry the burden alone.” Mum’s face radiated determination, as if she were some kind of saint. Granny’s legs wobbled, and she sank into the sofa. “This is being a homewrecker. People will talk behind your back for the rest of your life.” “James might be struggling, but what about Lizzy? Doesn’t she deserve better?” By this point, Mum had heard enough. The guilt she’d been carrying had long been replaced by irritation. “James is a single father. He has to work and look after his wife and child. He’s exhausted. I’m just helping out by bringing him food and doing a bit of housework.” “And besides, Lizzy’s fine, isn’t she?” Mum had been spoiled growing up, never having lifted a finger to do chores. Even after marriage, Dad had treated her like a queen, and she’d rarely had to do much housework. Now, out of some misplaced sense of affection, she was playing housekeeper for a man who wasn’t even her husband. What a grand display of love. Granny lost her temper and slapped Mum hard across the face. Mum clutched her cheek, stunned. Then she burst into tears, lamenting how hard it had been since Dad died. While they were distracted, I grabbed Mum’s phone and scrolled through the records. Dozens of bank transfers. Some for thousands, some for tens of thousands. All paid to the hospital. “Mum, Dad’s gone. I can’t lose you too.” Mum panicked, but I held tight, refusing to let her take the phone back. Granny’s anger dissolved as she took the phone from me, her hands trembling. She scanned the screen, reading the records carefully. Her expression softened as she squeezed Mum’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. If you’re ill, we’ll get you treated, even if we have to spend everything we have.” Mum looked down, her lips pressed together in discomfort. 3、 Granny was frantic. She immediately demanded to see Mum’s medical records. Mum, of course, had nothing to show. She stammered and fumbled for an explanation. Granny, not suspecting anything, grabbed her arm. “Come on then, we’re going to the hospital. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Mum’s here with you.” Terrified of the humiliation, Mum glared at me before finally admitting the truth. She had spent Dad’s compensation money. The day Dad died, he’d been driving by The Thames Riverbank when he spotted a child drowning. He saved the boy but didn’t have enough strength left for himself. He drowned. The boy’s parents were wealthy and influential. They gave Mum a two-million-pound compensation payment in private. She hadn’t told anyone about it. That money should have lasted her comfortably for years. But Mum’s romantic obsession had taken over. One day, she found James crying, guilt-ridden that he didn’t have enough money to treat Martha. Seeing him vulnerable, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. So, she decided to help. That was how it started, and soon she had spent over a million on his wife’s medical bills. Later, when Granny and the family struggled financially, Mum didn’t offer a single penny. I only discovered all of this after I died. My soul had wandered aimlessly, watching as Mum and James stood hand-in-hand at Martha’s grave. James had gazed at Mum with deep affection. “Thank goodness for your late husband’s inheritance, Lizzy. It made sure Martha left us with dignity. You’re an angel to our family.” Mum blushed and leaned on James’s shoulder. I had wanted to tear her apart. But my soul slowly faded away… Granny, after hearing the whole story, didn’t even seem angry anymore. Just… disappointed. In her youth, she had lived through the hardships of the post-war period and had seen plenty of men abandon their responsibilities. So, she had always taught me and Mum to love ourselves first before loving anyone else. But Mum clearly hadn’t absorbed that lesson. “Your late husband’s life paid for that money. And this is how you’ve wasted it? Even if you’ve lost your senses, how could you not think of Lizzy?” Granny dragged Mum to The Royal Bank, forcing her to transfer half of the compensation to me. That was one million pounds. I had already looked at Mum’s spending history, though. She had poured hundreds of thousands into Martha’s hospital bills. After transferring that one million, there was hardly anything left. Perhaps realising this, Mum began struggling in front of the cashier. “This is life-saving money! Why are you taking it from me?” she wailed as if she were the victim of a terrible injustice. The bank fell silent. People began taking out their phones to record us. One woman, with a face full of righteousness, stepped in front of Mum to defend her. “Girl, if you’re being wronged, just call the police. This is a law-abiding society; we’ve got nothing to fear!” Granny seemed momentarily stunned by the situation. But I quickly caught on, and my tears began to flow. “Mum, this is Dad’s compensation. Granny said it should be saved for my education. Why did you spend it all on Mr. Dean? Dad, I miss you so much. If you were here, I could go to university…” Sobs wracked my body as I struggled to speak. The people around us began whispering. Their eyes now turned suspiciously towards Mum. Mum, growing desperate, snapped, “Lizzy! Mr. Dean is my friend. What’s wrong with spending some money to help his wife?” “This is all my fault for spoiling you and making you so selfish.” I pretended to be frightened and kept my voice steady. “But you’ve already spent half a million. Last time, you even said Mr. Dean was going to be my new dad. But I don’t want him to be!” Mum, speechless, stood frozen at the counter, weeping uncontrollably. The security guard tried to calm her down, but it was no use. The bank had no choice but to call the police. When the officers arrived, I took the opportunity to speak up. “Officer, I believe my mum is being scammed.” The officers grew serious and escorted us to the police station. James Dean was also summoned. He looked every bit the part of a nondescript middle-aged man—dishevelled hair, a worn expression, and nowhere near as distinguished as Dad had been. I explained the situation simply. “I think he’s been manipulating my mum, tricking her into paying for his wife’s treatment.” Mum was even more panicked than James. “No, no! It was my choice! He didn’t trick me.” Granny glared at James with disgust. “Officer, this man has been using some kind of charm to make my daughter lose her senses. It’s like she’s not herself anymore.” The officer fixed his stern gaze on Mum. “Was this a loan or a gift?” If Mum admitted it was a gift, the police would dig deeper into the case. After all, Mum had no family ties to James, and they’d only known each other for a short time. To anyone looking, this would seem like a clear case of fraud. But James spoke first. “I borrowed it from Sarah.” I interjected. “Where’s the IOU, then?” James hesitated. “It was a verbal agreement. I’ll write one up now.” After that ordeal, Mum looked at me with a coldness that cut deep. Funny, wasn’t it? Her own daughter had become a stranger to her. In my past life, James had spent Mum’s money without a second thought, never once mentioning paying it back. Mum had been delighted, thinking it meant he didn’t see her as an outsider. With the police’s mediation, Mum reluctantly completed the transfer. Granny, not trusting her, insisted that both of us move back into her house. Mum, still bitter, refused. Later, I heard that she couldn’t stand the neighbourhood gossip anymore and had moved into James’s house. She loved him and wanted to save him. So, she began living in his house, paying the bills, doing the laundry, cooking, and looking after his children, all while covering Martha’s medical expenses. People even praised her for it, calling her a “selfless lover.” But, Mum… now that half your money’s gone, will you still be the hero? 4、 That summer, I found peace living at Granny’s house. Without Mum around to constantly drone on about James, my world was finally calm. And Granny made sure to spoil me with delicious meals every day. I was content, focused only on distancing myself from Mum and respecting the fate of others. Uncle Rob still lived with Granny as well. “Big news!” he shouted one morning, bursting into the room with a wide grin. “I finally got the job!” Uncle Rob had just finished his master’s degree and had been job-hunting for months. Ironically, the company that hired him was the same one James worked for. At the time, Martha’s health was deteriorating fast, and James was frequently taking time off to visit the hospital. It seemed like he was on the verge of being fired. Mum had pitifully begged Uncle Rob to help James with his workload. Out of sibling loyalty, Uncle Rob had agreed. But, just as in my past life, the constant overwork had taken a toll on his health. He’d worked himself into the ground with months of overtime. And then he’d dropped dead. Grief-stricken, Grandpa had a stroke, leaving him paralysed. Granny’s hair had turned white overnight. Mum had shed a few tears before returning to James’s side, taking care of him and his family, saying, “James is really struggling with everything. Someone needs to be there for him.” She had left us to handle Uncle Rob’s funeral on our own. I remembered those days vividly—Uncle Rob bringing back treats for me, Granny dressing me up in pretty clothes, and Grandpa taking me for long walks in the park. This time, I would protect my family. That day, someone had recorded Mum’s outburst at The Royal Bank and posted it on TikTok. The marketing accounts quickly picked it up, twisting the story into sensational headlines: “Woman Becomes the Other Woman for Love – What’s So Special About This Man?” “Widow Spends Her Late Husband’s Million-Pound Compensation to Save Her Lover’s Terminally Ill Wife.” The marketing accounts must have paid well because Mum actually agreed to give her side of the story, providing an audio interview for the added drama. “I don’t care if my family doesn’t understand,” she said. “Yes, I love James Dean, but I still have my dignity. I’m not some homewrecker. I just wanted to help fulfil Martha’s final wish.” “The medical bills, I paid them willingly. It was my choice. I just wanted to ease James’s burden a little. He works so hard.” “I know I’m not being scammed. Martha told me herself, before she passed, that James and his son would rely on me after she’s gone.” The interview quickly made the rounds among people who knew Mum. Soon, familiar faces began calling. Grandpa, furious, could barely contain himself. He’d always been a man of pride, and now people were mocking the family, saying we had no moral compass. Granny, too, regretted not raising Mum with more discipline. She’d believed girls should be spoiled, never made to do housework, and given the best of everything. When she’d vetted Dad, she had tested him harshly, only agreeing to the marriage because he was responsible and kind-hearted. Granny had been so sure that Mum, having experienced the best kind of love, wouldn’t fall for some shallow fling. But despite it all, Mum had gone completely off course. 5、 After the summer holidays, I entered my final year of Sixth Form. If everything went well, I could get an automatic offer to university. Returning to school was tough. I wasn’t sure I could maintain my previous academic level, but I knew I had to give it my all. I moved into the school dorms, only coming home once every two weeks. When I did, Uncle Rob joked that I was becoming a rare sight, like a national treasure. But the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. “I’ve been working for two weeks straight,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Finally got a break.” Instantly, I grew anxious and insisted that we go to the hospital for a check-up. The results were as expected—I was simply tired, but Uncle Rob’s health was riddled with problems. He hadn’t even been working that long, but he already looked like he was being ground down. Uncle Rob shrugged it off. “Every young person’s got a bit of wear and tear these days.” But I refused to take it lightly. In my past life, it was overwork that had killed him. I pressed him for details about his job, not letting him get away with vague answers. Uncle Rob hesitated for a while, then finally told me the truth about the overtime. Immediately, I ran to Grandpa and Granny to report what was happening. Granny picked up the phone and called Mum, giving her an earful. Mum broke down into sobs. “Martha’s had several close calls, Mum. James is struggling so much. He’s terrified of not being there for her final moments.” “It’s all going to be one family in the end anyway. Can’t you help me help him?” Granny couldn’t hold back the curses any longer. “Are you out of your mind? What’s James Dean got to do with us? Your brother is young, but his health is falling apart, and you don’t even care?” Mum tried to justify herself. “He’s young. He’ll recover. Mum, are you sure I’m really your daughter?”

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Simon and I had been together for ten years, and we were finally getting married. But after we moved in together, his cat always seemed to hate me. Simon brushed it off, telling me I was reading too much into it. “It’s just a cat,” he said. But then, one night in the study, I saw something that shattered that illusion. I clearly saw his cat transform into a young woman, tangled in his embrace. In a soft voice, she whispered, “I don’t like your girlfriend. Do you really have to marry her?” I stood frozen at the doorway, feeling dizzy. Not because of the pair entwined in front of me, but because flashes of memories and visions overwhelmed me. The past, the present, and even the future. In those swirling images, I saw my entire life unfold. It turns out I’m just the villainess in a sugary romance novel. The novel is called I Became a Cat and Stole My Crush’s Heart. In the story, the heroine, Mia Yates, secretly loves the male lead, Simon Shaw. She thought they were destined to never be together—until a car accident changes everything. Mia wakes up, only to find she’s turned into a cat. Simon, unaware of her true identity, adopts her, and Mia becomes his treasured pet. One day, she mysteriously returns to her human form—in Simon’s bed. From that moment on, their story unfolds with stolen glances and hearts racing. As for me? I’m the villain, Simon’s malicious fiancée. I’m supposed to compete with a cat for his affection. Out of jealousy, I even plan to throw acid on Mia’s face, only for Simon to stop me just in time. In the end, I get my comeuppance and spend the rest of my life regretting my actions behind prison bars. Simon and I are about to get married, which is why we’ve moved in together. But ever since I arrived, Mia the cat has made her hostility toward me abundantly clear. Every time Simon and I are in the same room, she screeches at the top of her lungs or knocks things over to steal his attention. She never lets me near her. Every time I try to pet her, she scratches me. I thought she was just being defensive, like any cat might be with a stranger. I figured she’d get used to me eventually. But now, I finally understand. She’s no ordinary cat; she’s a woman pretending to be one. Certain things are cute when a cat does them. But when it’s a human? It’s far from charming.

The next morning. I sat at the breakfast table, watching Mia nestled beside Simon. He carefully cut his breakfast into small pieces and fed her bit by bit. How did I never see it before? I took a sip of milk and casually said, “Simon, don’t you think it’s time Mia was spayed? She’s always so agitated—getting her spayed might calm her down.” As soon as I said that, Mia’s fur bristled in outrage. She hissed at me, then quickly retreated into Simon’s arms, meowing pitifully. Sure enough, Simon stroked her back gently to comfort her before looking at me with irritation. “I don’t want to put her through that kind of surgery. It’s not right to take away her right to have kittens.” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, you want Mia to have kittens? Maybe I can help by finding her a tomcat or two.” At that, Mia’s cries grew even louder. Simon’s face darkened. “Bella, why do you have to be so cruel to her? She’s just a cat! Can’t you see she’s just not used to you yet?” Just a cat? He’s been telling me that for ages, using it as an excuse whenever Mia acts out. But he knows perfectly well that Mia is no ordinary cat. He knows her every action is designed to push me out. Yet he still clings to his comforting delusion. I didn’t bother arguing with him. After breakfast, I drove to Mia Yates’ old house. Mia wasn’t always a cat. She used to be just a regular university student. She fell in love with Simon when he taught a few lectures at her university. But after she turned into a cat, the human body she later gained was beautiful—innocently alluring. Whose body was this? Could a ‘miracle’ like this only happen to Mia? These thoughts consumed me as I drove around her neighbourhood, asking about her. Sure enough, those who are hateful often have a tragic backstory. Her mother, I learned, never cared much for her. She favoured Mia’s brother and constantly pressured her to find a wealthy husband, one who could provide a dowry to buy her brother a house. Mia’s attraction to Simon? Well, that had a lot to do with his money. I smirked. Rich, is he? What if Simon lost everything? Would Mia still care for him then? On my way home, I stopped by The Bark & Purr Pet Shop. As soon as I walked in, a brown blur came bounding toward me. “Max!” Max, my beloved Labrador. I had to send him away because Mia hated him. Simon made me rehome him. Of course, I never actually gave him away. I’d just been keeping him at the pet shop, hoping Mia might accept him one day. Now? I couldn’t care less what Mia thinks. I knelt down and stroked Max’s head. “Max, I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave you again.” He seemed to understand, nuzzling into my hand. I hugged him tighter, relieved.

When I brought Max back, Simon predictably lost his temper. “Why did you bring that dog here? You know Mia is terrified of him!” I held Max close, not even looking at Simon. “You have Mia. I need Max with me.” He snapped without thinking. “How can that dog compare to Mia?” Anger flared up inside me. “So your precious cat gets to stay, but my dog gets kicked out?!” He stood there, speechless, before storming off with Mia, slamming the door behind him. “You’re impossible, Bella.” For the first time in our relationship, we had a real argument. It wasn’t that we never disagreed before. I’d just always been the one to compromise, to make concessions for him. But now? I didn’t mind this feeling. For once, I was standing up for myself. That night, Simon didn’t come home. And I didn’t care. Max and I slept soundly. The next morning, I made breakfast for both of us. Afterwards, I got ready for work. The Oxford Research Institute was always busy, and I had taken time off to plan our wedding. Well, there wouldn’t be a wedding anymore.

When I arrived at the institute, I could tell people were surprised. “Bella, you’re back! Weren’t you on leave for wedding prep?” “Yeah, where’s Simon?” Everyone knew about our relationship. We were both researchers at the institute. I made small talk and brushed off their questions. There was plenty of work piled up, and before I knew it, the morning flew by in a blur. Just as I finished, Jessica grabbed me for lunch. “Bella, I’ve got so much gossip saved up! No one else around here cares about celebrity news—they’re all too busy staring at data all day. I need to spill the tea!” Jessica, with her bubbly personality, was a rare exception in our research-focused environment. I smiled. “I’m all ears. I need a break from science talk.” She hugged me. “You’re the best, Bella!” But we didn’t get far before someone interrupted us. “Bella, there’s an urgent meeting. You need to come right away.” The person’s serious tone left no room for delay, so I hurried back to the conference room. Dr. Knight was furious when I arrived. “Who’s responsible for this project? How did such a massive data error go unnoticed?” The room was tense, and several people cast nervous glances my way before someone spoke up. “Uh… it’s Simon’s project, Dr. Knight.” I knew why they were all looking at me. Simon wasn’t qualified for the position he held. The institute had only promoted him to keep me on board. And over the years, he’d been rising through the ranks quickly—thanks to me. Dr. Knight was still fuming. “Where is he? I’ve told everyone repeatedly that this experiment needs constant supervision, especially at such a critical stage. Where was he yesterday?!” Mistakes like this usually led to demotions. Someone tried to make excuses. “Maybe he’s just been overwhelmed with the wedding plans.” “Isn’t Bella the one who took time off for the wedding? So why is she here, and Simon’s nowhere to be found?” “He’s got connections. That’s why he can get away with anything.” “Wish I had that kind of backup. Mess up this badly and still keep your job.” I listened to the murmurs of discontent, knowing full well the resentment Simon had caused by coasting on my reputation. I stood up and faced them. “If Simon’s responsible for this error, then he should be demoted as per the rules.” The room fell silent. Dr. Knight stared at me, surprised. In the past, I’d always covered for Simon, fixing his mistakes. But not anymore. The meeting ended, and as the others filed out, Dr. Knight pulled me aside. She looked at me thoughtfully. “Bella, you’ve been here for years. Your talent and dedication are the best I’ve ever seen. I’ve always worried that these personal matters were holding you back.” I nodded and smiled, reassuring her. “I understand, Dr. Knight. Don’t worry.” I took over Simon’s project. That afternoon, while I was working on the experiment, Dr. Knight’s words echoed in my mind. She had said, “I hope you keep moving forward, Bella. Your path shouldn’t end here. You’re meant to lead humanity to the next level.” My blood surged with excitement at the thought. By the time I left the institute, night had already fallen. But I wasn’t tired at all. In fact, I felt energized, surrounded by the work I loved. 4 When I got home, Max came bounding over to greet me. I patted his head, but my attention was drawn to Simon, who was sitting in the living room with a stormy expression on his face. “Why was I demoted? Did you have something to do with this?” he demanded. I felt a pang of sadness. Was this really the man I had spent over a decade with? I stayed calm. “Your project had a major issue, Simon. It’s only natural that it was handled according to the rules.” But he still didn’t believe me. “I ran those numbers multiple times—they were flawless. Dr. Knight has had it out for me for ages. I bet she had someone tamper with the data!” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Simon, when are you going to stop blaming everyone else for your mistakes? When will you finally learn to take responsibility?” He stared at me in shock before a sudden realisation seemed to hit him. “Oh, I see how it is,” he sneered. “This was all about you taking over my project, wasn’t it? You wanted me out of the way so you could get ahead.” His words struck me like a slap to the face. I looked at him, my voice breaking. “Is that really what you think? After everything we’ve been through for the past ten years?” “I…” Simon faltered, reaching out as if to wipe the tears from my eyes. But at that moment, a sharp hiss pierced the air. We both turned to see Max cornering Mia, growling low and threatening. It looked like any second he would tear her apart. Simon rushed over, pushing Max aside. “Get away from her!” He scooped Mia into his arms and turned back to me. “Bella, I’m willing to forget everything that happened today, but I’m warning you—keep your dog away from Mia. I won’t ask again.” Without waiting for a response, he stormed into the study, slamming the door behind him. I slid down the wall in defeat, feeling completely drained. Max nuzzled me, his head resting on my lap. Simon never used to be like this.

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My boyfriend’s uni mate got into trouble with loan sharks. I tried to stop him from getting involved, but I never imagined that she’d be pushed to the brink and take a bottle of sleeping pills to end her life. My boyfriend carried on as if nothing had happened, and we were preparing for our wedding. Until one night, when he was drunk, he caressed her photo tenderly and forced me to swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills. He told me that it was my cold-heartedness, my selfishness, that had driven her to take her own life. If I had the chance to live again, I would never interfere in their mess. “Darling, how much money do you have left? Sophie’s family is in trouble again. You know we’ve always been close, and those people said if she doesn’t pay up today, they’re going to take her away and sell her off.” I blinked, still caught in a daze, the lump in my throat not yet gone when a large hand tugged at my sleeve. I had come back to life, back to the very day Tom Shaw was running around, borrowing money for Sophie White. Sophie was his uni mate—sweet and delicate, just like her name suggests. She was soft-spoken, with perfectly drawn features. But she had a father who gambled away everything. Word was he’d racked up an impossible debt over the years and ended up killing himself when he couldn’t repay it, leaving behind a beautiful daughter constantly hounded by loan sharks. To be fair, Tom had always been good to me. Everyone knew he loved me more than life itself. So, in my previous life, when Tom was scrounging for money for Sophie, saying she was like a sister to him and he couldn’t stand to see her in such a mess, I didn’t suspect a thing. But Sophie’s father owed over eight million pounds. That kind of money isn’t easy to come by, especially since those loan sharks were criminals. If Tom got too involved, he might lose more than just money—he could lose his life. Of course, I didn’t want my soon-to-be husband getting mixed up in that, so I gave him my savings, but on one condition: he had to stop helping Sophie and focus on our wedding. But I never expected Sophie to take sleeping pills and end her life. When I heard the news, I felt genuinely sorry for her. A young girl, barely out of her teens, with such a tragic fate. Tom only showed a brief moment of sadness. He didn’t say much to me about it. But what I could never have imagined was that he’d kill me for Sophie. Now, looking at Tom, who stood anxiously in front of me, all I could hear in my mind were his words before I died. “I told you, Sophie and I weren’t what you thought we were. Why, why couldn’t you just help her!” “Your family is well-off, aren’t they? You people with money would never understand this kind of desperation. Lucy Thompson, you’re such a cold-hearted, selfish person!” “You could stand there and watch her die, and you still expect me to marry a woman with a heart of stone like yours? People with money—none of you are any good!” I couldn’t help but laugh. My family, with its multimillion-pound income, had only one child—me. My parents never approved of Tom, who came from a modest background. They wanted me to marry someone who was our equal, but I was hopelessly in love with Tom. They cut off my finances, hoping I’d eventually give in. But Tom had grown so bitter towards me for not asking my parents to save his dear Sophie. Eight million pounds. Was I really expected to sell everything and sacrifice myself for him and his precious Sophie?

Seeing me silent, Tom cupped my face with an intensity I once loved. Now, that same touch made my skin crawl. “Darling, you know me. I just want to help her because I feel sorry for her. You know Sophie is sweet. She even said she likes you.” I brushed his hand away, my voice cold. “My parents cut me off ages ago to be with you. Where exactly am I supposed to get this money you need?” Tom didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm in my voice. “Darling, you’re an only child. Just explain the situation to your parents. They’ll help you, won’t they?” I asked him flat out, “Do you like Sophie?” There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes, quickly replaced by composure. “Of course not, darling. Everyone knows you’re the only one I love. Sophie’s just a close friend. I only want to help her because she’s in a difficult spot. Don’t overthink it.” I stood up and didn’t even look back at him. “She’s your friend, not mine. I have no obligation to fix her family’s problems.” Tom’s brow furrowed. “Lucy, you’ve always been so kind. Why are you suddenly so heartless? You’ve got money. Your parents are still alive and well. But Sophie—her mum died when she was little, and her father left her with all this mess. How can you be so indifferent?” As he spoke, he pulled out his bank card, didn’t say another word to me, and walked straight out the door towards Sophie’s house. I couldn’t believe the nerve of him, using guilt and moral blackmail to make me feel responsible for Sophie’s troubles, as if I were the villain in this story. I calmly packed my bags and sent him a text: We’re over. Then I blocked him from everything. Let’s see how long he lasts without my support this time around. Right now, Tom’s company was at a critical stage of development. In my past life, I begged my parents for help, drank so much at business dinners that I ended up with a stomach ulcer—all for him. And what did I get in return? Did he even really love me? On all those nights when we were so close, was he thinking of me, or his poor Sophie?

I returned home with my suitcase. My parents were visibly shocked to see me. My dad crossed his arms and scowled. “If you’re back because of him, don’t even bother coming in. Your mum and I are sick of it.” Seeing my parents, both healthy and still in their prime, made my eyes well up with tears. In my previous life, after Tom killed me, what kind of despair must they have felt when they saw my body? Overcome with emotion, I broke down at the door. My mum nudged my dad and frowned. “This is your fault, speaking so harshly. Look at her, she’s in pieces.” I buried myself in my mum’s arms and cried until I couldn’t anymore. The regret, the anger—everything came pouring out. “There, there, our darling girl. What happened? Did that Tom Shaw hurt you?” I nodded. “I broke up with him. I don’t love him anymore. I just want to come home.” The look on my parents’ faces was a mix of disbelief and joy. It was almost comical. As if afraid I might change my mind, my dad asked cautiously, “You mean for good, right? No getting back together?” I laughed through my tears and nodded. Then I told them everything. My parents were furious. “I told you that Tom wasn’t a good guy,” my dad said. “What kind of man runs a business and needs his fiancée to handle all the social events? You did all that for him, didn’t even come home, and he had the nerve to blame you?” I couldn’t help but feel guilty under their gaze. How on earth did I lose myself so completely over a man in my last life? “Well, you’re home now, and that’s all that matters.” Mum gently patted my back, comforting me just like when I was a child. After the whirlwind of events that day, I was exhausted and quickly fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up the next day, it was already noon. I opened my phone to find twenty missed calls from Tom, and a new post from Sophie on her Facebook. In the picture, she was sitting in Tom’s car, her eyes red from crying as he tenderly wiped away her tears. The caption read: No matter what happens, you’ll always be by my side. Even though I had prepared myself for this, seeing it still made my heart ache. Tom and I had been together for six years. People joked that if we didn’t get married, they’d stop believing in love. But feelings change, don’t they? My phone buzzed with a message from Sophie. Lucy, I’m so sorry for posting that on Facebook. You know how complicated things are with my family right now. Tom was just looking out for me last night. I heard you broke up with him, but please don’t let it be because of me. I’d feel terrible if that were the case. I didn’t reply. This kind of passive-aggressive guilt trip didn’t deserve my time. She posts something like that and then sends me this message—what does she want me to do? Am I supposed to beg Tom to stay with me, or storm over to her house and slap her? Sophie White and Tom Shaw—two of the most despicable people I’d ever known.

I once saw a conversation between Tom and Sophie. You’re so good, Tom. Lucy’s so lucky to have you. Lucy’s so fortunate. A perfect family, a boyfriend who adores her. I wish I could have what she has. And Tom? He ate it up. He insisted she was like a little sister, always delivering her lunch or coffee. When my best friend Chloe heard that I’d broken up with Tom, she insisted on dragging me out to celebrate. Watching her burst with energy, I found myself in a surprisingly good mood. “You’ve no idea how much I hated Tom,” she said, laughing. “Since you got together with him, it’s like you forgot all about me. You’re the poster child for ‘love makes you blind’!” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, smiling. “I know, I know. I was wrong. I was blind. Satisfied?” Chloe nodded, then pulled me through all the luxury stores. It struck me how much I’d changed since being with Tom. I’d lost touch with who I used to be, a woman who lived life on her own terms. But because his business was just getting off the ground and money was tight, I hadn’t gone shopping at any of my favourite stores in years. “Wait, isn’t that Tom?” Chloe exclaimed suddenly. I followed her gaze. There he was, walking with Sophie, dragging a suitcase behind him, acting suspicious. I didn’t want to get involved, but Chloe’s curiosity got the best of her, and she dragged me over to see what they were up to. They walked into a second-hand luxury store. A sneaking suspicion began to form in my mind. “Isn’t that the bag I got you for your birthday two years ago?” Chloe pointed to a high-end, limited-edition handbag in the shop. I frowned. When I left Tom’s place, I hadn’t packed everything. I’d planned to have a moving company pick up the rest. But here he was, selling my belongings for cash to help Sophie. I stormed into the shop. Tom saw me and immediately looked guilty, then quickly switched to relief. “Lucy! What are you doing here? Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I was going to explain everything—” Smack! I slapped him across the face. Tom’s eyes filled with shock. Sophie rushed over to check on him. “Lucy! How could you hit Tom? You—” Smack! I slapped her too. “Hitting you was just an afterthought.” Chloe stood by, grinning as if she were watching the best show ever. Everyone in the shop gathered around to see what was going on.

“Lucy Thompson, you witch! Why are you hitting Sophie? What has she done to deserve this? Why are you targeting her?” Tom pulled Sophie behind him, shielding her like a mother hen protecting her chick. I pointed at the bags on the counter. “You sold my bags without asking, didn’t you?” Tom’s face flushed. “I… I was only borrowing them. It’s not like I wasn’t going to give them back.” “Borrowing my bags? Funny, I don’t recall giving you permission. We’re not together anymore. This is theft.” “Lucy, you’re so shallow. They’re just handbags. You can buy more. But a life? You can’t replace that. Are you really going to stand by and watch someone die just because of a few designer bags? Does that make you happy?” Tom grew more and more worked up, acting like I was the villain here and not him. I marveled at how shameless he could be. “Are you really trying to guilt-trip me?” “Too bad—I don’t have a conscience.” People around us started whispering, and a few even took out their phones to film the scene. “First off, we’re over. Secondly, these are my bags. Lastly, if you want to help your precious Sophie, go right ahead. But what’s it got to do with me? Do you expect me to raise your future kids too?” Tom was speechless. He knew he was in the wrong. Seeing the crowd gathering, he must have realised this wouldn’t end well for him. Reluctantly, he muttered, “This one, this one, and that one—those are the bags I bought you. I have the right to sell them.” Chloe and I exchanged looks, our jaws practically on the floor. Since when do men reclaim gifts after a breakup? “Fine. Whatever.” I didn’t want to waste any more energy on him. I turned to the shop owner and said, “The rest are mine. Can you give me an estimate on how much they’re worth and wire the money to my account?” Tom’s company was struggling for funds. There was no way he could scrape together the money to help Sophie, so here he was, resorting to this pitiful scheme. “Lucy, are you really breaking up with me? Think about it. You’re already 28. Don’t you know how old you are? If you break up with me now, who else would want you? You should be asking your parents for five hundred grand to pay off Sophie’s debts, and then we can move forward with our lives.” He was so serious, as if breaking up with him would leave me penniless and hopeless. “Tom, you’ve lost it. Lucy is way out of your league.” Chloe chimed in, “Besides, my brother is 32, single, six-foot-two, and looks like a young George Clooney. Lucy without you? She’s going to do just fine. You can run along with your scheming little Sophie now.” With that, Chloe grabbed my arm, and we strode out without a backward glance.

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My birth mom died in childbirth trying to have a baby boy, and not even two months had passed before Grandma Annie brought my stepmom Monica into the house. I thought Monica would give me a baby brother, but it turned out she couldn’t have children. Grandma Annie forced her to divorce my dad. As Monica was packing up to leave with nothing but her clothes, she suddenly asked me, “Do you want to come with me?” My mom, Lucy, was the typical traditional woman from a rural area. She was simple, hardworking, and a little naive. Since childhood, she had been bossed around by her family, and after marrying into my dad’s family, she continued to serve others. She didn’t really like me. To her, I was a constant reminder of her failure. She couldn’t give birth to a boy. After I was born, there were no special meals for her, no eggs, no sugar. Grandma Annie didn’t care, and Dad, Robert, was always away. Mom didn’t blame them, though; instead, she constantly blamed me for not being a boy. Being a girl was the biggest mistake in her eyes, the reason why she could never hold her head up. Her unhappiness became my burden to carry. One time, Dad bought a beautiful dress from the city, the nicest I had ever seen, with butterflies embroidered on it. It was clean and bright. Grandma Annie took one look at it and her face dropped, “What’s a girl need with new clothes?” I never had new clothes. I only wore hand-me-downs from aunts or cousins. A few days later, on New Year’s Day, I saw that very dress on the neighbor’s little girl. “It looks so pretty on her,” I heard Grandma Annie say while counting some money. “I even bargained for a few extra bucks. Now we can buy more meat.” Mom, Lucy, stared at the cash in Grandma’s hand and nodded in agreement. “Exactly. What’s a dead weight like her doing in such fancy clothes? She’s no princess.” In the end, I didn’t get to wear that dress or taste the extra meat that was bought. Dad looked at me, then at the meat in his bowl, sighed, but said nothing. He had no son and was the talk of the town. He could only blame me for that. At dinner, Grandma Annie, chewing on her food, pointed at Mom and said, “If you don’t give us a grandson this year, you’re out of here.” Mom, embarrassed, smiled awkwardly and agreed. After a few months, she got pregnant again. Her belly was pointed, and Mrs. Wilson, who had two sons, told us it must be a boy. Grandma Annie was overjoyed. That very day, she killed a chicken and made a pot of rich soup for Mom. She pulled up a stool, sat by Mom’s side, and stared at her belly. “Lucy, you better take care of yourself and that baby. My precious grandson needs to be born healthy.” While watching, Grandma glanced at me sweeping in the corner and asked, “Do you think your mom’s having a boy, Erin?” I nervously nodded, feeling uncomfortable with Grandma calling me by my name. “Yeah, it’s a brother. I even dreamed about playing with him yesterday.” Grandma’s face lit up, and she went to the kitchen to fetch me an egg. “After he’s born, you better not fight with him over anything, understand?” I ate the first egg of my life. It was so delicious. Is this what my brother would get to eat every day? Grandma even gave Mom money for a checkup. They took the early bus to the nearest town, rattling all the way there. After the checkup, the doctor frowned, giving me a once-over. “This girl is malnourished. You should feed her better.” Mom tugged me away. “We don’t have much money. She’s a girl. She’ll be married off anyway. It’s a waste.” Back home, Grandma Annie cut another piece of pork just for Mom. I stared at it, drooling. With my chipped bowl filled with nothing but cabbage, I tilted my head up and asked, “Is my brother coming next month? I can’t wait to play with him.” Grandma smiled, adding a few pieces of meat to my bowl. “Soon, Erin. You’ll get to play with him very soon.” The day we’d all been waiting for came, and Grandma called the best midwife from the village. She boiled a big pot of water early that morning. But then things took a turn. They say the first baby is hard to deliver, but after that, it’s supposed to be easier. Not for my mom. She had been struggling in labor for five hours, and my baby brother just wouldn’t come out. The midwife said it was a dangerous delivery and could take a while. Grandma Annie paced outside, anxiously asking for updates every few minutes. Bowl after bowl of bloody water was carried out of the room, and the midwife finally came out with a grim expression. “It’s critical. We need to decide who to save—the mother or the child.” Grandma Annie cursed under her breath, blaming my mom for not protecting her precious grandson. “It’s got to be my grandson! You have to save him!” A while later, the house fell silent. My mom had stopped screaming, and there was no newborn cry either. The midwife came out and told Grandma that the baby was stillborn. Mom hadn’t survived either. Grandma Annie collapsed in loud, uncontrollable sobs, and Dad, who had just returned, silently smoked a cigarette. A few days later, they buried my mom and my brother in a small coffin. Within half a year, Grandma Annie brought Monica into our home.

Monica was from out of town. She didn’t have any family and was working alone around here. Dad, Robert, gave her some money and quickly arranged a small wedding. Monica didn’t seem to like me much. She had a stern face like Lucy, and she wouldn’t let me touch her things. But at least she didn’t lash out at me like Lucy did when she was in a bad mood, looking for reasons to yell at me. Shortly after the wedding, Monica and Dad left to work, leaving Grandma Annie and me to take care of the empty house. The eggs from our chickens? I never saw them. I went to school on nothing but thin cabbage soup. Every morning, though, Grandma Annie would cook an egg—for Jacob, my cousin, who was the same age as me. He never ate it right away. He’d bring it to school and wave it in front of me, savoring every bite. “Your family’s eggs are the best, Erin.” Jacob was in my class and was a troublemaker. He either threatened me into doing his homework or broke his pencils and used mine. One day, I chased him home from school. He hid behind Grandma. “Grandma! Erin’s bullying me!” Grandma’s face turned cold as she patted Jacob on the head. “Erin, don’t bully your cousin. You’re the older one.” But I was only two months older than him. I wanted to explain, but the words were stuck in my throat like fish bones. Grandma didn’t care. She led Jacob to the kitchen with a smile. “Come on, sweetheart. Have another egg so you can grow up to be important.” After dinner, I approached Grandma and said, “Grandma, Jacob broke my pencil. Can I buy a new one?” Grandma frowned and scolded me. “Still holding on to that? Now you’re asking for things too? What does a girl need with all that schooling anyway?” The next day, Jacob showed off a new pencil, bragging, “I told Grandma, and she bought me this one. It’s expensive! You could buy ten cheap ones with this.” I ignored him, carefully pulling out the “pencil” I had found last night—it was actually Monica’s eyebrow pencil, but it would do. As I traced my name on the paper, I could hear Jacob’s mocking laughter. It made me wonder, why did everyone have high hopes for Jacob, who was always at the bottom of the class? And why didn’t anyone care about a girl like me who was top of the class? I lowered my head, too afraid to meet her eyes, nervously twisting the hem of my shirt. “I didn’t have a pencil… so I used it to write… I’m sorry.” The moment I finished speaking, I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the punishment I was sure would come. I expected her to yell or hit me, but instead, she sighed. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a few pencils. “Don’t use my makeup for that anymore. Here, take these.” I held the pencils in disbelief, my mouth slightly open. I remembered how Grandma Annie always said I should respect Monica. “Thank you, Mom.” The word “Mom” felt strange coming from my mouth. Monica didn’t smile, though. She scolded me instead. “I’m not your mother. Focus on your studies. Go out there and see the world. Understand?” I thought about it for a moment, then went to my room and brought out my collection of bright red certificates. I handed them to her. The cold look on her face softened a bit as she placed the certificates at the bottom of a wooden box and fished out a few candies for me. “This is more like it. I’m not your real mom, Erin. You have to rely on yourself, okay?” I nodded, not fully understanding, but the sweet taste of the candy filled my mouth, a rare treat.

On New Year’s Day, while we were eating dinner, Grandma Annie began pressuring Monica to have a son. “You’d better not end up like Lucy, with no luck and only a worthless girl to show for it.” Monica barely looked up from her food, pretending not to hear. Grandma didn’t give up. She turned her attention to Dad. “Look at you, Robert. You can’t even hold your head up because of that girl.” She set down her bowl and started yelling at me. “What good is raising a daughter? She’s just going to belong to someone else eventually.” I stayed silent, stirring my food without looking up. “Mom, we’re eating,” Dad tried to defend me. Grandma’s face turned sour, and she started rehashing old grievances. “If you’re still kneeling outside the family shrine next year, don’t you dare come crying to me.” In our town, families without sons weren’t allowed to participate in the ancestral rites. After the New Year, Monica and Dad decided to stay for a few months to help with the busy season on the farm. Grandma Annie made it clear that she was expecting Monica to get pregnant soon. Our daily routine didn’t change much, except Monica would sneak me a few candies whenever I won an award at school. Meanwhile, Grandma would head to Monica’s room every day, pressing her about having a child. I thought this would all end once Monica got pregnant. I was even excited, hoping I’d finally get a baby brother and that Monica would become my real mom. But one afternoon, while I was walking home from school, I heard Grandma wailing from a distance. “You’re trying to end the family line!” Grandma was sitting on the ground, crying and pointing at Monica, who stood there, helpless. Dad was trying to calm Grandma down while the neighbors gathered around, whispering to each other. It turned out that Monica couldn’t have children. A local herbal doctor had visited the village, and Grandma, eager for a solution, brought him some eggs to see if he could help. After taking Monica’s pulse, the doctor shook his head and told Grandma that Monica had a cold womb and probably wouldn’t ever have kids. Grandma, furious, threw a fit, demanding that Dad divorce Monica. “It’s bad enough that you gave us a useless girl! Now you want to stay married to a woman who can’t even have kids?” Lindsay, my cousin’s wife, was watching the drama unfold. She whispered to Mrs. Wilson, “Robert has the worst luck. First, his wife dies, and now this one can’t have kids either.” After a day of arguments and pressure from the neighbors, Dad finally gave in and agreed to talk to Monica. That night, I listened from the other room, the dim candlelight casting shadows on the walls. I couldn’t see their faces, but I could hear the sadness in their voices. “We should get a divorce. It’s my fault,” Dad said, his voice shaking as he pulled out their marriage certificate. Monica stayed quiet for a moment before taking the certificate. “You promised me a home.” Dad clenched his jaw, pulling out a stack of cash from a drawer and placing it neatly on the table in front of her. “It’s my fault, but I need a son. You know how my mom is.” Monica didn’t take the money. She started packing her things instead. “We’ll go to the city tomorrow and finalize the divorce. Keep the money. Buy something for your daughter.” I stood by the door, gripping the broom tightly, my heart heavy with fear and a strange sense of sadness. “Is Monica really leaving?” I thought to myself. There would be no more candies when I did well in school, no more small gestures of kindness, and no more soft-boiled eggs waiting for me at the bottom of my soup bowl. Monica stepped outside to take down the laundry. She saw me standing there and, for the first time, smiled at me. She walked over and handed me a small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. “Do you want to come with me?” she asked. I didn’t know what to say, my hands tightening around the broom handle. “I… I don’t know.” She didn’t seem upset. Instead, her smile grew warmer. “Call me if you change your mind. And make sure you keep studying.” The next morning, before the sun had risen, Monica left the house with her few belongings. She and Dad went to the city to finalize the divorce. I slipped that small piece of paper into my book, hiding it away. No one else could know about it.

A few months passed, and Grandma Annie found Dad a new wife. She had been married before and came with a daughter who was older than me. I was expected to call her “Maya.” Grandma liked her because “she’s got good childbearing hips.” The day after the wedding, Maya handed me a pile of clothes and told me to wash them in the river. The ice on the river had just melted, and the water was freezing cold. Carrying a wooden bucket nearly as big as me, I dragged it step by step to the riverbank. Sometimes, the holes I made in the ice would freeze over again, and I’d have to break them open with a hammer, plunging my numb hands back into the icy water. By the time I hauled the bucket back home, my hands were raw and shaking. Maya looked over the clothes and scoffed. “You’re old enough to know how to wash clothes. You want my mom to do it for you?” The new stepmom, Sarah, soon had a baby boy—Jimmy. Grandma, who didn’t care much for Maya before, now tolerated her bullying me. Maya became bolder, bossing me around and treating me however she pleased. Dad was thrilled to have a son and spent most of his time in the city working, leaving me to fend for myself. I was forced to move into a drafty shack outside, while Maya took over the warm, spacious side room. Sarah didn’t like me either. She’d bark orders while holding Jimmy in her arms, and when I didn’t move fast enough, she’d pinch me. Grandma Annie’s world revolved around her precious grandson now. To her, girls were worthless. “Erin, don’t provoke your mom. You know how bad her temper is.” Every night, after washing the dishes for the whole family, I would crawl into my creaky little bed, feeling the cold wind blow through the cracks in the walls. I missed Monica and the candies and soft eggs she used to give me. The year I graduated from elementary school, I got accepted into a middle school in the city. But the tuition was expensive. Maya’s grades were terrible, and she barely managed to get into the worst high school. Jealous, she would complain to Sarah. “Mom, Erin’s tuition is so expensive. We should save that money for Jimmy.” With Maya constantly whispering in their ears, Grandma and Sarah planned to send me to the worst middle school nearby, keeping the money for Jimmy. I wasn’t ready to give up. One night, I sat next to Dad and pleaded with him. “Dad, I want to go to the city for middle school. I promise I’ll make you proud.” Dad looked into my eyes but didn’t say anything. Later that night, I overheard them arguing. Sarah’s sharp voice cut through the thin walls. “It’s a hundred bucks a semester! Why not save that for Jimmy? He’s your son.” “But she’s got potential. I think she could do something with her life.” “She’s a girl, Robert! She’s going to marry off eventually. Have you forgotten that?” Dad’s voice grew quieter. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” The next morning, after breakfast, Dad stood in front of me. “Erin, we don’t have the money. Any school is a good school.” I don’t know how I managed to stay calm. I just said, “Okay.” As Dad walked away, Maya grinned at me, her eyes full of mockery. “What happened to our little genius? Not going to the top middle school anymore?” I ignored her, clutching the small piece of paper Monica had given me. I ran to the town office, pretending I needed to make a call to the school. My heart raced as I dialed Monica’s number. When I heard her voice on the other end, I felt my eyes fill with tears. “I’ve made up my mind. I want to go with you.” The next day, Monica appeared at the entrance of the village, looking just as I remembered. I led her straight to my dad. He was stunned. “What are you doing here?” “I’ve decided to adopt Erin.” Dad hadn’t expected this. He sounded defeated as he asked, “Why?” “She wants to go to the top middle school, and I’m willing to take her.” Grandma Annie heard the commotion and came running, holding Jimmy in her arms. Her sharp voice pierced the air, “I raised her, and she’s worth a lot in dowry money. You can’t just take her!”

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As I opened my eyes, I found myself on the Isle of Wight, alongside four girls from Wellington High School who had bullied me. They had taken over the only house on the island, waiting for me to throw myself into the sea. But only I knew that the only way to escape was to use the rules to eliminate the others. “Day one: anyone who doesn’t have a shower today will be the first to be eliminated.” “Let the game begin.” This was the note I just found in a message in a bottle. I stared at the note, lost in thought. Today, we five were deposited on this island. The only silver lining was the two-storey cottage, which, of course, was commandeered by Chloe and her gang. Even after taking over, her sidekick, Sophie, came up to me, pretending to be sweet, and said, “Sorry, there are only four rooms. You might want to look for other buildings on the island.” I couldn’t tell if she was serious or just taunting me. But this island was barren; apart from the cottage, there was nowhere else to go. Staying here would mean starving to death, freezing, or possibly being swept away by the waves. But I knew they were hoping I’d just throw myself into the sea. I was seriously considering it when my legs dipped into the icy water, and I felt something cold brush against me. It was the message in a bottle I mentioned earlier— Its appearance felt oddly timed, and I couldn’t help but glance at that cottage. At that moment, the girls who had tormented me were likely inside, laughing. Back in school, Chloe had led her group in surrounding me, wrinkling her nose and fanning the air in front of her. “Ugh, you smell so bad! Why don’t you wash?” “Such a poor smell, how can you get rid of it?” Then they dragged me into the toilet under the pretense of washing away the poor smell, dousing me with two buckets of cold water. The cold was bone-chilling. My legs were shaking, and soon, Chloe came over and slapped me across the face twice. If I went to borrow their bathroom, wouldn’t it be… I could already imagine the humiliating taunts they’d hurl at me. Standing at the edge of the island, I watched the sunset paint the horizon, finally gathering my courage to walk to the cottage door.

The door swung open to reveal Emily, who looked surprised to see me. “What? There’s no room for you here!” She laughed and was about to close the door when I stuck my hand in the frame. “Can I have a shower?” A strange expression crossed Emily’s face. I recognised that familiar smirk in her eyes. Then she turned and shouted towards the interior, presumably to Chloe and the others, “Look who wants to have a shower!” The room fell silent for a moment before erupting with laughter like thunder. I stood outside, feeling the breeze snake around my exposed skin. I should’ve seen this coming… Just as I was about to turn and leave, Chloe’s voice came from behind the door: “Let her in!” “That poor smell definitely needs a wash.” The door swung wide open, and I entered, greeted by Emily’s mocking gaze. “You can use the public bathroom at the corner upstairs,” Jessica pointed out. I nodded and hurried up the stairs. The laughter from downstairs didn’t stop; I could vaguely hear their remarks. “Make sure you clean yourself well before you set off.” A chill ran down my spine… What did the elimination entail? Would it mean “setting off”? I felt a surge of vengeful satisfaction. After a quick wash, I didn’t dare linger. I rushed downstairs, and the four of them seemed puzzled by my haste. Jessica blocked the staircase, frowning as she scrutinised me from top to bottom. “Can’t you even wash properly? You’re down so quickly.” “Should’ve said, we could’ve helped you wash,” Emily chimed in with a laugh. “Enough.” I was shocked that this stopping remark came from Chloe. “You go to the island’s edge and see if any boats pass by. Maybe you can get in touch.” So they wanted me to help. I nodded, keeping my head down as I left the cottage. As the door closed behind me, my heart raced. If the rules were real, when would the elimination take place?

I sat at the island’s edge as darkness fell. The sea looked like a vast black hole under the night sky. I shivered, wondering if I might pass out from the cold. In the distance, I heard a shout: “Lucy!” I turned to see Chloe and the others running towards me, but Jessica was nowhere to be seen. Just as I felt a pang of curiosity. Chloe and her group reached me, and she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. I felt a ringing in my ears. “Jessica is dead; you did this, didn’t you?!” A strange sensation surged within me at the news. I covered my face and looked up. “What happened to her?” Sophie, likely shaken by the recent events, lost her usual bravado in front of me. “She said she was going for a shower and didn’t come out for ages. When we checked on her, she was already dead.” “She was the last one to wash?” “Yes.” A fire ignited in my chest. The rules were real.

“Because Jessica said today that you wouldn’t wash, you killed her!” Chloe yelled. Her accusation reminded me that Jessica had been the first to act when they doused me with water in the toilet. Feigning deep thought, I replied, “I didn’t have the means to kill her.” “But I heard some islands can be quite cursed.” The sea breeze whipped fiercely, and I noticed the fear flashing in their eyes. I lowered my head at the right moment. “Since she’s dead, it’s fine for me to stay in her room, right?” They opened their mouths, seemingly in disbelief that I dared to occupy a room where someone had just died. Before they could respond, I turned and walked back into the cottage. I dragged Jessica’s body outside in front of them. Jessica showed no signs of having been beaten, her complexion was not discoloured; she looked as though she had simply dropped dead. “Maybe she just stayed up too late?” I said it casually, not knowing if they’d believe me. After dragging Jessica outside, I returned to the cottage, my stomach growling audibly. “Is there anything to eat?” Emily looked somewhat reluctant, but now that Jessica was dead, we had become allies of fate. She pointed to the snacks on the coffee table. “That’s all there is.” The coffee table held only half-eaten snacks; did the cottage not even have basic staples? I nibbled on some, lost in thought.

The next day, while they were still asleep, I made my way to the island’s edge. Following yesterday’s routine, I submerged my legs in the sea, and upon feeling the message in a bottle, I quickly picked it up. “Day two: food supplies are hidden in the forest.” “Day two: no eliminations.” I looked at the dense trees behind the cottage, nervous about encountering unknown creatures. But eyeing the demands on the note, I steeled myself. I didn’t run into any beasts, so I easily retrieved a pack of noodles and a box of eggs to take back to the cottage. Chloe was stunned, her eyes wide. “Where did you get that?” “From the island’s edge; someone left it there.” Jealousy flashed in their eyes as I placed the items in the fridge. As I closed the fridge door, I remarked, “If you want to eat, you’ll have to cook it yourselves.” Noodles and eggs. That’s another story. One day, I brought noodles with eggs for lunch, and they laughed at me for bringing “poor food,” then, in front of everyone, they dumped my meal into the bin. Emily stood nearby, arms crossed, and joked, “Eating bin scraps is the same as what you made. Why don’t you try it?” That day in the cafeteria, my humiliation was exposed before the entire school. I wondered if they remembered that day about the noodles and eggs. But thinking of them now having to eat what they once derided as “bin scraps” brought a sense of satisfaction.

In the following days, I took advantage of their sleeping hours to sneak outside. Unfortunately, the messages in the bottles had not contained any elimination for several days. As I watched my noodles dwindle, I’d return to the supply area, picking up another pack and lying about having found it at the island’s edge. Days passed like this. In this isolated environment, Chloe and the others’ attitude towards me softened somewhat. I sometimes wondered if the bullies I once knew were the same people standing before me now. Until one day, as usual, I ventured into the forest. But that day was different. Branches behind me rustled as if something had brushed against them. I turned cautiously, spotting the branches swaying; perhaps it was a small animal. Thinking nothing of it, I walked towards the supply hut. Inside, there were many supplies, yet I only took the eggs and noodles. As I walked out with my loot, I was suddenly enveloped by three dark figures. It was Chloe and her two friends. A wave of fear surged through me. If they had been following me the whole time, they must have seen me at the island’s edge retrieving the message in the bottle. Chloe’s face twisted with rage, as though she could devour me whole. Emily pushed me to the ground as I stumbled. Chloe crouched down and locked eyes with me. “So this is the food you’ve been getting from the island?” She raised her hand and slapped me across the face again. “You’re trying to hog all the food, aren’t you?” Another slap landed on my other cheek. “I knew it; you’re not so generous after all.” With that, Chloe’s hand found my throat, gripping it tightly. As I struggled for breath, my legs kicked out helplessly. She had never changed; she was always the one who bullied me. This predicament only temporarily tied us together; we would never be friends. Just before I could fully suffocate, Chloe let go. I knew she was still afraid of killing someone. Once I could breathe again, I held my neck and gasped for air. “I was just afraid everyone would eat all the food at once.” I forced myself to sit up, still uncomfortable. “Honestly, that’s how it is.”

Emily supported Chloe, her eyes cold as they gazed at me. “Then let me ask you, how did you find this place?” “When you locked me outside, I had to find somewhere to stay.” “You looked for a place to stay in the forest?” I shrugged, “The island’s not that big; I almost considered diving into the sea.” As soon as I said this, I realised I might have gone too far. The three of them had bullied me for a long time, and I was just making a joke, but they might have genuinely hoped for something darker. I stepped back slightly. Sophie, who hadn’t spoken until now, took a step forward, her expression devoid of emotion. Just as I thought she would side with Chloe, Sophie shook her head at her. “Everyone is on this island; let’s not complicate things.” Chloe shot me an angry glare, unwillingly turning to leave. Emily followed behind, grabbing four or five instant meals from the fridge before joining Chloe. Back at the cottage, they had heated the meals, and the aroma of rice filled the air. I clasped my stomach, realising I hadn’t eaten yet. Seeing my actions, Chloe raised an eyebrow, reverting to her old domineering self. “Lucy, you’re not eating anything today; this is your punishment.” “Survive today, and I’ll forgive you. How about that?” Emily wore a smirk, clearly having fanned the flames in Chloe’s mind. Suddenly, I felt a surge of rebellion, disregarding their objections and marched straight to the fridge, grabbing a meal. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Emily placed her hand on the meal, trying to snatch it from me. In the tussle, the meal ended up on the floor, rice scattering and sticking to the ground. “Have you lost it?” Emily huffed, stamping her foot and crushing the rice. Chloe watched our scuffle with narrowed eyes. “If you want to eat, you can get down on the floor and clean it up.” She raised her hand and slammed my head down onto the floor. I shot my head up, feeling a sense of defiance for the first time. But looking at Chloe and Emily with their arms crossed, and glancing at Sophie in the distance, I realised I was outnumbered. What was it if I didn’t eat for a day? I wouldn’t starve to death. I bolted outside, unable to suppress the anger swelling within me. At that moment, it felt like a switch had flipped in my mind—I thought of a place. I reached the island’s edge, the sea calm and serene. There were still no signs of any boats. I knelt by the shore, reaching into the water, hoping to salvage something. When my fingers brushed against a familiar cold object, I felt elated. “Day six: the last person to eat will be eliminated.” Seeing the familiar elimination made my heart soar with joy.

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The new pack of rubbers had been stolen again and again. Furious, I poked holes in every packet, determined to make that sneaky thief pay. Little did I know that just over a month later, my long-widowed mother-in-law started suffering from constant morning sickness. I began to suspect my husband, Andrew, was cheating on me. One morning, as I was tidying the bedside drawer, I noticed that several of the rubbers I bought during the last sale were missing. But Andrew and I hadn’t been intimate for weeks. I suddenly remembered that the bed linens had been changed more than once recently. I was shaking with anger, gripping the box in my hand. How dare he bring someone into our home! “Emily, why didn’t you separate the laundry? My white shirt’s been ruined—look at it!” Andrew’s voice came from the hallway. Still fuming, I yelled, “From now on, do your own laundry! I’m done.” “What’s wrong with you?” he muttered irritably. “Your temper’s getting worse every day.” Then Margaret, my mother-in-law, heard us and began wailing from the living room, “Oh, what have I done to deserve this? A daughter-in-law like you!” Storming out of the bedroom, I pointed at Andrew, standing uselessly on the balcony, and shouted, “You sit at home all day doing nothing, and you’ve got the nerve to complain?” “Who doesn’t have the wife doing housework? A man’s job is to earn money!” Margaret slammed the door behind her as she entered, glaring at me. “You can’t even manage the washing properly. Useless! I don’t know what Andrew saw in a woman like you.” Her sharp words only made my blood boil more. When Andrew and I got married, my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, felt sorry for Margaret, raising him all on her own, so they didn’t ask for anything. In fact, they even provided a house as a wedding gift. We had agreed I wouldn’t live with her, but Andrew insisted, saying she was too old to live alone in Derbyshire Village, and brought her to live with us shortly after the wedding. I had endured her endless criticism and meddling for Andrew’s sake, but I was done with it now. “My salary’s three times his, and the house you’re living in? It’s mine. What right do you have to insult me?” Andrew rushed over to comfort his mum and then glared at me. “Emily, apologise to Mum.” I looked down at the two of them on the floor, feeling more disgusted than I ever had. “Apologise? For what? This house, the car—what’s here that you’ve actually contributed to?” Andrew gritted his teeth and then, with a sickly sweet tone, approached me. “Honey, I know you do more, but Mum’s old now. Can’t you just be a bit more patient?” Margaret sat on the floor, smug, clearly expecting me to apologise. I scoffed, muttered a firm “No chance,” and slammed the door behind me as I left. That same day, I ordered a small camera online. If Andrew was cheating, I was going to catch him in the act and make sure he left with nothing. That day, I had just arrived at the office when my phone alerted me that someone was in the camera’s range. I scoffed, opened the monitoring app, and prepared to catch Andrew in the act. But to my shock, the screen showed my mother-in-law, Margaret, tangled up in bed with Colin Harris, Sophie’s father-in-law!

Not long after I arrived at work the next day, my phone alerted me that someone was in the room caught on camera. I smirked, ready to catch him red-handed. I opened the live feed on my phone, expecting to see Andrew with someone else. But what I saw instead shocked me beyond belief: Margaret—my mother-in-law—and Colin Harris, Sophie’s father-in-law, were in my bed! Shaking, I rushed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and tried to calm down. The absurdity of the situation was too much. The sounds coming from my phone made me feel sick. I quickly shut it off and leaned over the toilet, heaving. The thought of what had happened on my bed made my skin crawl. Furious, I couldn’t believe Margaret’s brazenness. It was bad enough she was acting like this, but why in my bedroom? I picked up my phone, ready to send the footage to Andrew and Sophie. Let them deal with their parents. But suddenly, I felt dizzy. Holding onto the door for support, I tried to get help but blacked out before I could make it out. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. “Doctor, what’s wrong with me?” “You had a miscarriage,” Dr. Richard Evans said curtly, looking at me with a strange mix of annoyance and pity. I sat up in shock. “I was pregnant? How is that possible? I’ve always been healthy—why would I miscarry?” “It was food poisoning. The tests show that someone had been putting large amounts of bacteria-laden pigeon droppings in your food.” I thought he was joking and denied it instantly. “That’s ridiculous. Who would put something that disgusting in my food?” Dr. Evans gave me a knowing look and continued. “In all my years at St. Bartholomew’s, I’ve come across a few strange remedies. There’s an old wives’ tale that says if you mix pigeon droppings into a tonic, it’ll guarantee a boy.” My heart dropped. Margaret had been giving me that herbal tonic every night. She’d said it was to boost my health. Now I realised it had nothing to do with that—she just wanted a grandson to carry on the Thompson family name. But her plan had backfired. Instead of ensuring a grandson, she had caused the death of her own grandchild. I laughed bitterly as tears streamed down my face. I placed a hand on my stomach, knowing that I had lost something precious—something I didn’t even know I had. Still dazed, I called Andrew to come to the hospital. The selfish man took all morning to show up, pretending to care, though his impatience was written all over his face. “What’s wrong, love?” “I had a miscarriage.” Andrew paused, barely reacting. “What happened?” I glared at him, fury burning inside me. “Your mother did this! She poisoned me with that tonic she insisted I drink every night. She killed our baby.” Andrew chuckled as if it was no big deal. “That tonic? All the women in my village drink it. No one else had a problem. The doctor must’ve made a mistake.” I threw the test results in his face, my hands clenched into fists, barely able to resist hitting him. “Tell your mum to pack her things and get out. I don’t want to see her in our house again.” Andrew sat at the edge of my bed, still smiling as though nothing had happened. “Mum meant well. She’s just desperate for a grandson. Don’t be so harsh. She’s lived here for so long—she wouldn’t know how to adjust if we sent her back to Derbyshire Village.” It was like he didn’t care at all that we had lost our child. Disgust rose within me. I had never been more disappointed in him. That was when I made up my mind. I was going to leave him, but not before making them both pay.

While I was still recovering in the hospital, Margaret showed up with a big bag of fruit. It was strange. She was notoriously stingy, so for her to buy all this… I knew something was up. “What are you doing here?” I asked coldly. I wasn’t ready to show my cards yet, but I couldn’t hide my disdain. “Oh, it’s nothing much. There’s just something I wanted to talk to you about.” I scoffed. Typical. She only came when she needed something. But the nerve of her! After everything she had done, she didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge her part in my miscarriage. Instead, she was here asking for help. “What is it?” I asked, barely able to mask my irritation. “When I spoke to the doctor earlier, he mentioned that your miscarriage might affect your chances of having another child in the future.” “So?” “Well, the Thompson family has always depended on Andrew to carry on the line. We can’t let it end with him, can we?” I froze, gripping the sheets tightly to keep from slapping her. “What are you suggesting? That Andrew divorces me?” She laughed nervously, sensing the danger in my tone. “No, no. You’ll always be our daughter-in-law. I was just thinking, perhaps Andrew could, you know, have a child with one of the village girls. Just to keep the family line going. Don’t worry, the child would call you ‘Mum.’” I stared at her, stunned. The audacity. She expected me to raise someone else’s child—her grandchild—from Andrew’s affair? “So you came here to tell me Andrew’s about to cheat on me, and I’m supposed to just accept it?” “It’s not cheating! It’s just having a child. You can’t let the Thompson family end, can you? Just be sensible and accept it.” I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. It wasn’t that I couldn’t stand up for myself—it was the overwhelming sense of helplessness that comes from dealing with someone so shameless. Andrew would never send his mother back to the village, and I couldn’t live with her anymore. We were at an impasse. “I don’t care,” I said finally. “Go talk to Andrew. If he’s fine with it, then I am too.” Margaret beamed, clearly thinking she had won. As soon as she left, I let out a bitter laugh. I had made my decision. I wasn’t going to tell them about the footage I had from the camera. If they wouldn’t let me have peace, then none of them would.

Back at home, I secretly poked holes in all the rubbers we had left. If Margaret wanted a grandchild so badly, she could have one with Colin Harris. Let’s see how Andrew and Sophie liked being “family.” I went back to work the next day and checked the video feed during my break. They couldn’t resist, and I saved every clip of their sordid little affair. Margaret was getting older. I figured it would take a while for my plan to work. But sometimes fate lends a hand. She had been feeling queasy for days and had no appetite. That evening, I made sure to cook something extra rich and greasy. The moment I set the food on the table, she bolted for the bathroom, gagging. Andrew, ever the doting son, followed her to check on her. “Mum, are you alright?” Margaret tried to dismiss it, but I could see the doubt flash across her face. She’d been through this twice before, after all. I couldn’t help but smirk. Still, I played innocent, bringing out a bowl of tonic. “Mum, you’ve barely eaten anything these last few days. Have some soup—it’s good for the body.” Margaret’s face turned pale at the sight of the tonic. She gagged again and ran back to the bathroom. Andrew stood helplessly at the door, rubbing her back. I leaned against the counter, my voice dripping with false concern. “You know, Mum’s symptoms are a lot like pregnancy. Andrew, do you think you might be getting a little brother? Maybe the Thompson family won’t be three generations of single heirs after all.” Margaret’s face went white, and she looked genuinely terrified. Andrew shot me an annoyed glance. “Stop talking nonsense. Dad’s been dead for years. Mum’s been faithful all this time. There’s no way she could be pregnant.” But Margaret’s panic was palpable. She lashed out, screaming, “Shut your mouth if you’ve got nothing good to say!” Watching her unravel was the most satisfying thing I had experienced in months. “Oh, don’t be mad. I’m just worried about your health. Here, have some tonic. You always said it’s good for the body.” I held the bowl out toward her, and she batted it away, spilling the hot soup on my hand. “Margaret! What are you doing?” Andrew gasped, rushing to my side. “Emily was only trying to help.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. We should probably take Mum to St. Bartholomew’s for a check-up though, just to be sure. Don’t worry, Andrew. Even if we have to sell the house, we’ll make sure she gets the best care.” Andrew was overwhelmed with gratitude, but Margaret looked guilt-ridden, trying to come up with excuses not to go. No matter what Andrew said, she refused. I pressed on, knowing I was pushing her into a corner. I was dying to see Andrew’s reaction when the truth came out. “Mum, it’s just a check-up. What are you afraid of? My uncle died of a perforated ulcer last year, and it started just like this.” With no other choice, Margaret finally agreed to go. The test results came back. Margaret was pregnant. “Mum, what’s going on?” Andrew looked at the test results, trembling with rage, his eyes turning red as he glared at his mother. “Who’s the father?” Margaret looked down, guilt etched on her face. “The test results must be wrong. I’m too old to be pregnant!”

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