My ex-husband, the pilot, died saving me. For five years, I’ve spent every night in my dreams dying to be with him. Until the ninth time I was rescued from slitting my wrists, my mom reluctantly showed me my sister Ava’s wedding photo. “Christina, your husband is actually still alive. He’s just marrying Ava the day after tomorrow.” I looked up in disbelief. My mom avoided my gaze and continued. “That car accident five years ago was actually something we planned with Guillermo. And the child you had prematurely after your severe depression that year is still alive too. Ava’s been taking care of him. You should let go now.” I couldn’t believe it. Trembling, I demanded: “Mom, you’re lying to me, right? Ava has a long-distance boyfriend…” My mom impatiently interrupted. “Her boyfriend has always been Guillermo! One’s a pilot, one’s a flight attendant—they’re together all the time. It’s normal they developed feelings.” “They were kind-hearted and couldn’t bear to hurt you, so they chose to fake his death.” “They should have had bright futures ahead, but because of you, they’ve had to hide all this time.” “I really can’t stand it anymore. Stop making a scene and just give her a break!”

I clenched my fists, my whole body trembling uncontrollably, my nails digging into my palms. “Mom, why? I’m your daughter too! Why did you wait until now to tell me?” “Could you really bear to watch me hurt myself over and over for five years because of guilt and self-blame?” She slammed the wedding photo onto the bedside table with a “crack,” glaring at me with disappointment all over her face. “If I really didn’t see you as my daughter, you wouldn’t even be alive today!” “How many times have I dealt with your mess? You act out once, I save you once. Every time you slit your wrists, I have to send you to the hospital.” “I’m over sixty years old, taking care of you every day. Do I owe you something?” She took a deep breath and stabbed those knife-like words deep into my heart again. “Let me make this clear—the day after tomorrow when Ava has her wedding, you stay put and don’t cause trouble.” “If you have any conscience left at all, you should let go and let Ava live a good life. Do you understand?” “Don’t forget, these past years it’s been Ava raising your son for you! She doesn’t owe you anything!” “It’s one thing for you to torment me, but don’t you dare make things difficult for her. She’s already so understanding and has had it hard enough!” I laughed through my tears, completely breaking down. “Mom, do you know how many injections I endured for IVF, how much I suffered to get pregnant with that child?” My mom didn’t even lift her eyelids, her brows full of impatience. I didn’t wait for her to speak, continuing my hysterical sobbing. “During that time, I was drowning in the news that Guillermo died saving me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him covered in blood. I wanted to stab myself to death.” “It was that child who held me back. I didn’t dare die—I was afraid of killing two people, taking his flesh and blood with me.” Tears fell like broken beads, one after another. “I went to prenatal checkups alone, signed consent forms alone, lay on the ultrasound table alone, listening to the child’s heartbeat and crying until I couldn’t breathe. But I was willing, because that was my only light to keep living!” “And what happened? You told me the child died prematurely!” My mom’s face paled for a moment, but she still didn’t say anything. Looking at her cold face, I suddenly found it laughably absurd. “Now you tell me the child didn’t actually die, that Ava’s been raising him.” “During these five years when life was worse than death for me—when I was slitting my wrists, they were celebrating the child’s birthday; “When I was jumping off buildings, they were at the amusement park as a family of three; “When I was self-harming to vent my longing for the child and Guillermo during my severe depression, he was holding Ava and living sweetly!” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, are you now saying I should be grateful to Ava for raising my child? Grateful that she slept with my husband?” My mom’s face turned white, then she suddenly clutched her chest. “Do you even see me as your mother? You can’t keep your man’s heart, and you run here to question me? Are you trying to kill me?” “Richards still calls Ava his aunt. We all just told him his mother went somewhere far away. He’s been raised so well by Ava! Much better than being with you!” Before she finished speaking, she collapsed to the floor, pounding it and wailing. “Why is my life so bitter! Ava is obedient and considerate, afraid I’ll suffer and be exhausted. “Christina is constantly trying to kill herself, giving me no peace even in my old age!” The door suddenly burst open and my dad rushed in. Seeing my mom sitting on the floor crying, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face.

“Bitch! What did you do now?” His eyes were bloodshot, his finger pointing at my nose. “If you want to die, find some place where no one is and die there! Don’t let us know even if you’re dead! Stop tormenting us!” I covered my face, staring at him blankly! This father who used to let me sit on his shoulders, who cried harder than me at my wedding. Right now, the way he looked at me was like looking at a pile of garbage in the way. I clutched my chest hard, gasping for air several times before finally squeezing out a sound. “Mom, Dad, just go. From now on… just pretend you only ever had Ava as a daughter.” Both of them froze at the same time. My mom stopped crying, kneeling on the floor looking at me, seeming to want to say something but ultimately saying nothing. My dad slowly lowered his raised hand, his lips moving, his expression complex. Watching this scene, I suddenly remembered the first time I was rescued from slitting my wrists—my mom had held me and cried her heart out! “Christina! If you die, how am I supposed to live? You can’t be this selfish, you can’t break my heart!” But now, as she climbed up from the floor, she said coldly: “I haven’t wronged you in the slightest! If it weren’t for worrying you’d actually die and Ava would feel guilty and unable to move on for the rest of her life, I’d be too lazy to deal with you again and again!” “Since you’re saying these things today to threaten your father and me! Then we’re leaving right now! From now on, you figure things out yourself! We’ll pretend we never had you!” The two left one after another, and the world seemed to be left with only me again. I curled up under the covers, burying my face in the pillow, crying my heart out. I don’t know how long passed before my phone vibrated. It was a message from my dad. “Christina, no matter what, we’re your parents. Even if we really did something wrong, you shouldn’t have treated your mom that way. You’re thirty years old—you should be mature now. “Go back and reflect on your behavior, then go apologize to your mom.” “You’re the older sister. It’s normal for you to give way to Ava. Not to mention you’re the one who couldn’t keep your man’s heart—who can you blame for that?” “As for Richards, everyone had good intentions. Ava will treat him as her own. Richards growing up with Guillermo is better than being with you, right? Look at yourself these past years, constantly trying to kill yourself. Richards would really suffer if he were with you.” “Stop making your mom sad. We’re old and can’t take this kind of stress.” Looking at this message, I found I couldn’t cry anymore. My eyes were painfully dry. It’s always been like this since I was little. In elementary school, Ava wanted the hair clip I’d saved half a year of allowance to buy. Mom said “give way to Ava,” and I did. In middle school, Ava wanted to join the school choir. Mom said “Ava has a good voice, let her have it,” and I withdrew. In high school, Ava wanted to go overseas for summer camp. There was only one spot. Dad said “your grades are better than Ava’s, let Ava go this time, you’ll have other chances,” and I nodded. I gave way for eighteen years. I thought I’d given up enough, until I met Guillermo. It was my twentieth birthday. I sat alone on the school rooftop, letting the wind blow. He had just finished a flight, ran up in his pilot’s uniform, out of breath, handed me a half-melted cake and said: “I heard it’s someone’s birthday today. I went to three stores to find your favorite ice cream cake.” I asked why he was so good to me. He said: “Because you’re worth it.” No one had ever said that to me before. Guillermo let me know that I didn’t have to give way. The first time he held my hand, his palm was covered in sweat, his ears red as cooked shrimp. He told me: “Christina, you don’t need to fight for anything. I’ll bring the best of everything to you.” I thought I finally had someone I didn’t need to give way for. But in the end, even he wanted me to give way. I flipped my phone face down on the bed, curled up under the covers, and cried without making a sound. I lay in the darkness with my eyes open, nails digging into my arm. It hurt, but not as much as the hole in my heart. Finally, I still couldn’t accept it and sent Guillermo a message. “I know everything now. Let’s meet.”

Five years—over eighteen hundred days and nights. I had filled this chat box with longing, breakdowns, pleas, and despair. “Guillermo, today is the 37th day since you left. I miss you so much.” “Guillermo, I dreamed of you again today. Please don’t go, okay?” “Guillermo, the child is gone. I have nothing left…” “Guillermo, why didn’t you take me with you?” Every single message was like throwing a stone into an abyss—not even an echo. Only this one got a quick reply: “Okay.” The response I’d waited five years for appeared at this moment, but it wasn’t the answer I wanted. No explanation, no small talk, just an “okay” that pushed me to the breaking point. I couldn’t control my rationality anymore. I grabbed the glass from the bedside table and smashed it on the floor, then stepped on it barefoot. Glass pierced into my sole, the pain drilling deep, but it wasn’t even one ten-thousandth of the pain in my heart. When Guillermo came in and saw me crouching in the broken glass, blood all over my feet, his pupils contracted sharply. “Christina!” He practically lunged over, his knee slamming onto the floor with a “thud,” broken glass piercing through his pants, but he paid no attention. His hands trembled as they held my ankles, trying to pull me out of the glass shards, but his hands were shaking too much to grip steadily. “What… what are you doing?” He looked up at me, his eyes already red. Those eyes, those eyes I’d dreamed about for five years, were now filled with heartache, panic, and something complex I couldn’t read. He carefully cradled my foot. Blood gushed from where the glass had pierced in. His voice changed with panic. “Call a doctor! You’re bleeding so much… how could you…” He couldn’t continue. My tears splashed onto the back of his hand. His whole body froze. He slowly reached out, wanting to wipe the tears from my face, but his fingers stopped an inch from my cheek and withdrew. “Christina, don’t do this anymore. I’m begging you!” I looked at him, at those eyes I’d traced in my dreams countless times. They were right in front of me now but felt as foreign as a stranger’s. “You and Ava—when did it start?” My voice was calmer than I expected. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why torture me by faking your death?” “If you’d just told me honestly, I would have accepted it.” Guillermo’s lips trembled violently, his Adam’s apple rolling up and down, finally squeezing out only: “I’m sorry.” He tried to help me up. I shoved him away, my arm hitting the bed frame. I grunted from the pain. His hand froze in midair, his whole body kneeling in the broken glass as if nailed to the spot. Then he raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face. “It’s all my fault!” His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, his eyes so red they seemed ready to bleed. “I deserve to die! But Christina… we can’t go back anymore.” “Ava is pregnant. I have to be responsible for her, fulfill my duties as a husband. I owe her that.” All the blood in my body turned cold at once. “Tell me,” I trembled as I repeated, “when did you two start? Let me give up, please?” Guillermo closed his eyes, as if recalling some unbearable past. “It was… during those days when you were taken away by those thugs to save me.”

“After you came back, you had nightmares every night. Every time I touched you, you’d scream, you’d go crazy. “I knew it wasn’t your fault, but I’m a man, I have… desires. The more you acted that way, the more I…” He didn’t finish, but I understood. “Later, Ava came to the house to keep you company. That night I came home drunk from a business dinner. She was lying on the couch wearing your pajamas… I couldn’t help myself.” “After that, it happened more and more. I felt more and more ashamed to face you. I started lying that I was working overtime, lying to you that… that I’d lost my ability to have children. When you went for IVF, I felt guilty, but I couldn’t stop you.” “After you got pregnant, I wanted to live a good life with you. But Ava started going on blind dates, started getting close to other colleagues. She said if I didn’t make a statement, didn’t make a choice, she’d just marry someone random.” “I had no choice.” He lowered his head like a criminal confessing, “I really had no choice… so I arranged that car accident.” After listening, I didn’t cry or make a scene. My heart felt like a piece had been carved out, cold wind howling through it. “What compensation do you want?” He looked up at me, guilt and pleading in his eyes, “The house, money, whatever—name it.” “Okay.” I heard my own voice, so calm it didn’t sound like mine. “I want my child. You already have your own child. Give me back my child, okay?” After a few seconds of stunned silence, he nodded. “Christina, actually Ava mentioned giving Richards back to you too. Don’t worry, she raised him really well—obedient and well-behaved. Once Ava and I finish our wedding, I’ll bring him to see you.” I said okay and watched him leave. For the first time, I felt life had something to look forward to again. But just as I finished treating my wound and got anti-depressants before returning to my hospital room, I saw the last person I wanted to see. Ava sat on the couch, as if waiting for me. Seeing me, she didn’t even bother to stand up, getting straight to the point: “Christina, I heard you want Richards back?” I nodded. She smiled, “Fine. Then come be my bridesmaid tomorrow. As long as you come, I’ll let Richards call you mom. You probably don’t know yet, do you? This child only listens to me now.” As she spoke, as if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she opened her phone and held it in front of me. “Look, I only said it once and he remembered.” On the screen, a tender little face appeared. It was my child—eyebrows like mine, lips like his father’s. But that little mouth opened and closed, crisply calling out, “Christina, bitch!” I felt like someone had slapped me across the face. My whole body trembled uncontrollably as I pointed at her. “You… how could you teach a child to say such things?” But the cold smile on her lips instantly transformed into grievance. Her whole body staggered backward, supporting herself on the armrest with one hand while the other covered her belly, pleading in panic. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault… please don’t hurt my child…” Before I could react, the door burst open. Guillermo rushed in, shoving me aside and lunging to protect her. “Ava, are you okay?” I was pushed backward, my forehead slamming hard into the corner of the bedside table. Ava nestled in his arms, tears streaming down her face, shaking her head grievously. Then he carried Ava away in a panic, leaving only one sentence. “I’m warning you, stay away from Ava from now on. I won’t let you hurt her.” I lay on the floor, blood from my forehead dripping onto the white tiles one drop at a time. Everything started going black as I slowly lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I hastily changed into the bridesmaid dress Ava had left behind and rushed to their wedding venue! But when I arrived, my parents and Guillermo, who were greeting guests, all looked as if facing a great enemy! My dad instinctively blocked Ava. My mom snorted coldly, her face stern as she demanded: “Christina, didn’t you say you were going to die? What are you doing here!” Guillermo frowned tightly, and the little boy behind him suddenly rushed over, smashing a bottle of red wine on me! “You’re that bitch Christina, aren’t you?” “What are you doing here? Are you trying to steal my dad back from Ava? “Get lost! Today is their big day. I won’t let you ruin it!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “402158”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

When my fiancé and my best friend drugged me and forcibly dragged me into that notorious New York mob boss’s penthouse suite, I finally let out a sigh of relief: “Finally home.” My fiancé thought I was delirious from fear and grabbed my chin viciously: “Bitch, our company’s survival depends on this deal!” “I heard Mr. Holt had a first love who died, and your face happens to look somewhat like hers.” “Be a good girl and serve him well. Once we land this contract, I might be generous enough to throw you some cash!” My best friend covered her mouth with a coy laugh: “Exactly! You should be grateful for the chance to serve Mr. Holt. Don’t be ungrateful.” As the drug took effect, I was roughly shoved through that gold-trimmed door. No one noticed the mockery flooding my eyes as I leaned against the leather sofa. The Mr. Holt they spoke of—that ruthless, cold-blooded man—was actually my father. Today, they personally delivered me back to my dad. Tomorrow, they’ll learn what it means to wish for death.

The drug crawled through my veins. Even moving a finger made my bones ache. I forced my eyes open, my vision settling on the hand-carved golden iris pattern on the ceiling. That was the Holt family crest. Before I turned eighteen, this flower was embroidered on the collar of every custom nightgown I owned. Beyond the door, Ethan’s voice dripped with greed. “Summer, is the intel reliable? Will Theodore Holt really come to this suite tonight?” My best friend Summer couldn’t hide her excitement: “Paid two hundred grand for information from his driver. He’ll be here at eleven sharp.” “When he opens that door and sees a woman who looks exactly like his first love lying in bed…” She sneered. “No man refuses meat served on a platter.” “Maybe Mr. Holt will be so pleased he’ll hand us that billion-dollar development project in the south district!” Listening to their gleeful whispers outside, I bit down hard on my tongue. The metallic sweetness instantly flooded my throat. I’d worked myself sick with exhaustion and stress for Ethan’s pathetic company. I’d treated Summer like my closest friend. In return, they rolled around in bed in the apartment I rented with my own hard-earned money. And now they didn’t hesitate to pimp me out like a prostitute, putting a price tag on me and sending me to someone else’s bed. My stomach cramped violently. My nails broke off in the leather sofa, but the pain didn’t compare to one ten-thousandth of what churned in my heart. But they didn’t know—my father was Theodore Holt. His first love was my mother. But years ago, my dad had an affair with some starlet. My mother slit her wrists, and in my rage, I ran away from home. These years, my father and I maintained an unspoken agreement not to disturb each other’s lives. He just kept depositing money into my bank account, afraid I might suffer. Ethan and Summer thought I was some helpless orphan squandering her parents’ inheritance. That’s why they dared to use me as a bargaining chip so brazenly. But while my dad was a bastard who betrayed my mom, he doted on me obsessively. Years ago, when some rich kid merely made a lewd comment to me, my father bankrupted him directly. If he saw me stripped naked and offered up as a plaything on his own bed by these scumbags… By then, even begging for death would become a luxury for them. “Oh, right!” Summer deliberately raised her voice: “Once we land the Holt contract, we should finally have our wedding. Let’s get that diamond ring Olivia was eyeing but couldn’t afford.” Ethan laughed indulgently: “Sure. We’ll use the money from selling her to buy you a diamond ring.” I stared at the ceiling, the coldness in my eyes nearly freezing over. The intel was correct. My dad would definitely come here, because today was his and my mother’s wedding anniversary. My mother committed suicide in this room years ago. Every year he came here to remember her. Every year on this day, countless people sent him women. This year’s surprise just happened to be me. The next second, the door suddenly burst open. Ethan strode over and grabbed my hair roughly. My scalp burned with tearing pain. “Olivia, don’t blame me. Blame yourself for being powerless and deserving to be sold cheap.” “Tonight, even if you get screwed to death, you better make Mr. Holt happy!” Powerless? I looked at his smug face and my lips curved into an arc. “Ethan, you’d better pray that after tonight, you can die with some dignity.” “Still talking back!” Summer stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. My ears rang instantly. “Get her changed! Mr. Holt will be here any minute!” Summer smiled viciously as she tore off my jacket and forced me into a sheer, barely-there lingerie nightgown. “Just like a cheap whore.” Summer patted my face with satisfaction. I lay on the waterbed, experiencing ultimate humiliation, slowly clenching my fists. Stripping a daughter naked and sending her to her father’s bed. Truly unprecedented.

Next, Ethan and Summer grabbed me from both sides and dragged me out of the suite like a dead dog. At the end of the hallway, a dozen bodyguards stood with hands behind their backs, their oppressive presence hitting like a wave. The man in front strode forward. I half-closed my eyes and recognized him. Hugo Smith. Seven years ago, he was just a low-level bodyguard not even qualified to open doors for me. While I’d been wandering outside these years, he’d apparently become my father’s capable right-hand man. Ethan and Summer’s earlier arrogance vanished instantly. Replaced by obsequious, fawning smiles. “Mr. Smith, we’ve brought the girl for you.” Hugo glanced down at them condescendingly. His gaze was like an ice-cold blade, finally settling coldly on me. “You know Mr. Holt’s rules?” “The women sent to him must be completely clean.” Ethan nodded frantically, bowing so low he nearly touched the ground. “Yes, yes! Absolutely clean, absolutely obedient!” Hugo snorted coldly, looking me up and down: “Perfect. Mr. Holt’s in a bad mood tonight. He needs something to vent on.” “If this woman doesn’t serve him well, you two will be buried with her.” Ethan shuddered and shoved me forward roughly. “Cat got your tongue? Answer Mr. Smith yourself!” I steadied myself, a cold laugh escaping my throat: “You’re really asking for death.” Ethan flew into a rage and backhanded me viciously across the face. “Bitch! I told you to answer properly, what the hell are you playing at!” I stumbled from the blow, my knees hitting the cold marble floor hard. The skimpy lingerie was torn, leaving me in complete disarray. Ethan hissed through gritted teeth: “Useless trash! You dare put on airs in front of Mr. Smith?” Hugo watched this spectacle coldly and finally spoke again. “Mr. Holt despises disobedient things most.” “The last one who dared throw a tantrum in front of him—her ashes were scattered in the moat to feed the alligators long ago.” Ethan and Summer’s faces turned deathly pale, their breathing stopping for a second. I kept my head lowered, but from an angle they couldn’t see, I slowly curved my lips upward. After my mother died, my dad chopped up that woman who’d challenged her and fed her to the fish. Since then, he both loved and hated women, torturing them mercilessly. My father’s methods remained as brutal as ever. Thinking this, a bloodthirsty excitement flickered in my eyes. My abnormal reaction didn’t escape Hugo’s notice. He narrowed his eyes slightly, a hint of amusement flashing through them. “You’ve got guts.” “Other women would’ve pissed themselves hearing about feeding alligators.” He looked me up and down, his tone carrying some satisfaction. “Mr. Holt’s in a foul mood tonight. He needs someone with a hard spine to take it out on.” “Your fearless attitude might just suit Mr. Holt’s taste.” “If you can let the old man vent properly, maybe those of us below can catch some benefits.” Hearing this, Ethan’s eyes lit up instantly. He thought my half-dead appearance had actually caught Hugo’s eye, and his courage swelled again. He grabbed my hair and forced my head up. My scalp tore with pain, but I bit my lip hard and didn’t make a sound. “Look, Mr. Smith! This face, this body—guaranteed to satisfy Mr. Holt!” Ethan’s eyes darted, then he lowered his voice, trying to build connections and fish for information. “Mr. Smith, may I ask… why is Mr. Holt in such a bad mood tonight?” “Also, I heard Mr. Holt’s been looking for some white moonlight. What kind of goddess is she?” “Give us a hint so we can find women matching that standard for Mr. Holt in the future…” The next second, Hugo’s gaze turned sharp, looking at Ethan like a cold corpse. “Mr. Holt’s private affairs—you think trash like you has the right to ask?” Ethan’s face instantly turned liver-colored. “Yes, yes, yes, I deserve to die for asking!” To cover his guilt and fear, he vented all his rage on me again. He kicked me viciously in the abdomen. My stomach churned violently. I curled into a ball from the pain. “Bitch! Get in there and serve him properly!” “Once you’re inside, even if you have to wag your tail like a bitch, you better make Mr. Holt comfortable!” He shoved me hard and I pitched forward. I gripped the cold doorframe, enduring the stabbing pain in my abdomen, and slowly straightened up. Ethan had just asked why Theodore Holt was in a bad mood? I sneered silently. Probably because misfortunes never come alone. Seven years ago, on the day my mother died, I’d pointed at his nose and cursed him to die without descendants. None of his women outside managed to give him children. On one side, a rebellious daughter who was his only flesh and blood. On the other, his dead wife. Whose mood would be good? And just to please him, even his own daughter had to be pimped out like a prostitute and sent to his bed. Theodore Holt, I really want to see this. When that door opens, how will you explain this to me?

I pushed open the rosewood door. Crystal chandeliers overhead, handmade Persian carpets worth a fortune beneath my feet. The air was filled with top-grade agarwood incense, luxurious enough to suffocate. Seeing this scene, Ethan’s eyes nearly popped out. “Fuck… how many hundreds of millions is that painting on the wall worth?” Summer’s eyes filled with greed. “Any random vase here could buy our entire office building!” Ethan laughed obscenely: “Once this bitch serves Mr. Holt well tonight, maybe he’ll reward us with a few things to play with!” I leaned against the door, expressionless. My gaze swept over the massive oil painting on the wall. The woman in it had gentle eyes. That was my mother. On the sandalwood table beside it, a family photo was partially visible. Seeing me stare fixedly at the oil painting, Hugo narrowed his eyes and warned coldly: “Put away that disgusting look.” “A piece of trash who sells herself—you just happen to look somewhat similar and caught some luck.” Seeing I had no reaction to his mockery, he lost patience and grabbed my wrist. His eyes swept lewdly over my torn nightgown: “If Mr. Holt hadn’t specifically requested clean women, I’d screw you right here!” I curved my lips into a mocking smile. “This is how Theodore Holt manages his men? Looks like you really should be sent to the moat for a good lesson.” Hugo flew into a rage and raised his hand to slap me. Just then, Ethan let out a shocked gasp. “Wait… why does the girl in this photo look so much like you when you were little?” He reached out to grab the photograph. “Touch Mr. Holt’s things and you’re asking for death?!” With a sharp, furious shout. A woman walked in wearing twelve-centimeter Louboutin heels. Vivian Jo. A partner under the Holt Group. She once volunteered to seduce my dad, and I watched him throw her out. But I never expected her persistence to pay off—my dad actually kept her around. When her gaze fell on my face, that pride instantly transformed into poisonous jealousy. “This face…” She grabbed my chin condescendingly, her eyes revealing extreme madness: “A lowly plaything putting on airs like this—those who don’t know might think you’re the mistress here!” “Kneel down and answer me properly!” I shook off her hand forcefully, my eyes flooding with unconcealed coldness: “Get your filthy hands off me! What makes you think you can make me kneel! Before you touch me, you’d better think carefully whether Theodore Holt will chop you up and feed you to the fish.” Vivian laughed in extreme anger, her face contorting. “Seeking death!” She swung her hand to slap me hard. I jerked my head aside. Her slap missed and she stumbled awkwardly. “Who do you think you are?!” Vivian shrieked hysterically: I smiled faintly: “What if I said I’m the one woman Theodore Holt can never have in this lifetime? Would you believe me? After all, these years he’s humbly begged to see me countless times, and I’ve always refused. That counts as another kind of ‘never having,’ doesn’t it?” As my words fell, the entire room became silent as death. Vivian froze for a moment, then the malice in her eyes erupted completely. “Let’s see how you’ll be unattainable after I ruin you today! Someone hold her down for me!” Ethan rushed forward and pinned me down hard on the cold marble floor. “Ms. Jo, please calm down! This bitch is shameless trash who doesn’t know her place!” “She’s got cheap bones. Do whatever you want with her—cripple her if you like, I’ll take responsibility!” Summer quickly followed, stomping hard on my hand braced against the floor. Ten fingers connected to the heart. Cold sweat instantly soaked my spine. Vivian sneered and picked up a paper knife. She slowly crouched down, using the cold blade to lift my chin. “‘Never having’? It’s just because you happened to be born with a face you shouldn’t have.” The blade slid along my skin, bringing the tremor of death. A drop of crimson blood slowly slid down the silver blade and splattered on the floor. “How beautiful it would be to carve the word ‘whore’ on this face!” Vivian raised the paper knife high, about to stab down viciously. Extreme danger closed in. I jerked my head up and screamed that name: “Theodore Holt, get the hell out here! If something happens to me, you’re going to hell too!”

As my words fell, an eerie silence followed. Then came Vivian’s uncontrollable laughter and mockery: “What a shameless bitch, already acting like a whore before even seeing Mr. Holt!” “But Mr. Holt’s name isn’t something a bitch like you can call! You’re asking for death!” The next second, her eyes grew even more vicious as she drove the knife point into my face. Searing pain exploded like an electric current. “Hold her down! Hold her down tight!” Without hesitation, Ethan pressed down on my hands, smashing my entire face toward the cold floor. The sound of finger bones completely shattering. Excruciating pain made my vision go black. Cold sweat instantly soaked my back. The man I’d once loved with everything I had was now personally sending me to the slaughterhouse, acting as the executioner’s most loyal accomplice. A burning line spread from the corner of my eye to my temple. Blood instantly blurred my vision. Vivian let out a deranged laugh: “Let’s see how you act superior after I ruin this face!” Ethan fawned obsequiously: “Exactly, Ms. Jo! If you’re still not satisfied after carving her up, just take some nude photos. Let’s see how she seduces men after that!” Summer sneered: “Just cutting her face is too easy on her.” “Why not strip her naked and throw her in the fountain at the entrance? Let her know the consequences of offending Ms. Jo!” I listened to their celebration, a metallic sweetness surging in my throat. Every wound they inflicted on me would become an epitaph carved on their tombstones. My father’s methods would teach them what it meant to be unable to live, unable to die. The next second, Ethan reached out toward the neckline of my nightgown. I struggled violently, the last of my strength exploding in this moment. But Ethan’s knee ground even more viciously into my spine. My bones made an unbearable grinding sound. “Stop struggling. You’re just a piece of rotten meat ready for slaughter.” Ultimate humiliation engulfed me. Vivian’s smile grew increasingly cruel. She grabbed the last shred covering me and yanked hard. Her other hand pulled out her phone and quickly opened a live streaming app. “Just throwing you out isn’t enough. I’m going live so all of New York can see just how cheap this bitch really is!” At this critical moment! With a deafening crash. That million-dollar rosewood door was pushed open from outside. A towering figure wrapped in thunderous fury walked in. “Who gave you permission to make trouble here!” The madness on Vivian’s face instantly transformed to delight. Holding her phone, she spoke in a cloying voice: “Mr. Holt! Perfect timing! I was just disciplining a presumptuous new toy for you!” Ethan quickly looked up, wagging his tail like a lapdog: “Mr. Holt! We specifically found you a woman who looks exactly like your first love, absolutely clean!” “We only ask that you consider our sincerity and give us a chance with that western suburbs project!” My dad’s footsteps stopped. His gaze passed through the crowd and landed on me lying in a pool of blood. He saw my face covered in blood and tears. That commanding presence instantly crumbled.

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After the SAT exam ended, my boyfriend Ethan’s mother gave his old books to my brother Mason. Mason found Ethan’s secret crush diary among the pile of books. The notebook was thick, documenting three years—a full one thousand and ninety-six pages. Mason cleared his throat and read teasingly in my ear: “March 1st, gave the strawberry milk to Sophia, but she refused it again. Had to give it to that Vivian girl instead.” “March 2nd, bought two movie tickets, but Sophia didn’t show up. Didn’t want to waste them, so I had to go watch it with Vivian.” The last page read: “Failed to confess to Sophia. In a fit of anger, I accepted Vivian’s confession.” Mason laughed breathlessly. “Vivian, how embarrassing! You chased Ethan for 10 years, and he only agreed to date you to spite the girl he actually liked!” I silently clenched the hem of my school uniform, my face flushing red with embarrassment. I turned and went back to my room, opened my wish journal, and crossed out the wish about attending the same university as Ethan.

This was the scene Mason saw when he chased after me. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, continuing to mock me: “Vivian, you’re so petty. So what if Ethan deceived you once? Someone as outstanding as him—you were never good enough for him anyway.” “If it wasn’t for Sophia rejecting him, would you have ever had a chance to take her place? This is what they call a blessing in disguise, understand?” “Not really.” Mason rolled his eyes at me and sneered: “Stop pretending. There’s no point explaining to someone as stupid as you. Anyway, if I were Ethan, I definitely wouldn’t like someone as dumb and plain-looking as you either.” “After all, when you stand next to Sophia, you don’t even qualify to be background decoration.” I raised my hand to hit him, but he made a face at me and quickly ran away. This diary was Ethan’s heart and soul. After thinking it over, I felt I should return it to him. So I sent him a message on SnapChat. Ethan was always slow to reply to messages. Sometimes a single message would take over ten hours, or even a full day, before he’d send back a brief response. Even after we started dating, this situation didn’t change at all. I’d always consoled myself that it was just his personality, and I shouldn’t take it to heart. Until I saw the diary, where Ethan would stay up all night waiting for Sophia’s messages, and could drop anything he was doing to reply to her instantly. That’s when I realized. It wasn’t that he was aloof—it was just that I wasn’t important to him. As expected, this message sank like a stone. A day passed with no activity in the chat window. I decided to deliver it in person. The next morning, I stood at his front door. Through the clean glass window, Ethan sat at the table eating breakfast, exchanging conversation with his mother. My hand hovered above the doorbell. Before I could press it, Ethan’s voice passed through the window and clearly reached my ears. “I don’t want to apply to NYU anymore. I’m probably going to apply to Harvard instead.” My hand gripping the diary suddenly tightened. Then I heard his mother ask: “Didn’t you and Vivian agree to go to NYU together? Why the sudden change to Harvard? Is this Vivian’s idea?” “No, it’s my own decision. I haven’t told her.” His mother’s expression immediately darkened. “You’re dating Vivian, and not only are you not applying to the same university, you’re not even discussing it with her? Is this how you treat your girlfriend?” Her tone was sharp, and Ethan also lost his temper for the first time. He slammed his teacup on the table. “What era are we living in? Who says dating means you have to apply to the same university? That’s so backward.” “Besides, with Vivian’s grades, it’s questionable whether she can even get into NYU. Why do you have to bind us together?!” I stood there helplessly, my fingertips digging deep into my palm. I remembered the encouraging words Ethan had said at school about how I could definitely get into NYU. My nose stung uncontrollably. So those words were all lies. He looked down on me just like everyone else. I suppressed the urge to cry. Before he pushed the door open, I left the diary on the windowsill and fled in a hurry.

After that day, I didn’t say another word to Ethan. Instead, he changed his usual behavior. The messages he sent in those two days nearly matched two months’ worth. Yet he never mentioned the diary. On the night scores were released, Ethan’s house suddenly lost internet connection, so he had to come to my house temporarily to use ours. Mom washed a plate of fruit and placed it in front of him—some tropical fruits she normally wouldn’t buy. She smiled and told Ethan not to be nervous. Mason also busied himself massaging Ethan’s shoulders, serving him water, extremely attentive. Then he looked at me sitting alone in the corner with nothing and laughed: “Don’t secretly cry later if you didn’t do as well as Ethan. I get so annoyed every time I hear you cry.” “You brat, is that any way to talk to your sister?” Ethan laughed and pinched his arm. He scratched his head: “Oh, she’s used to it. She’s thick-skinned. These little comments don’t hurt her at all.” “She always says she’s better looking than Sophia. I tell her she’s being narcissistic but she won’t believe it. Ethan, you tell her—doesn’t she fall far short compared to Sophia?” Mason had also seen that diary, so naturally he knew he was deliberately trying to embarrass me. Ethan froze for a moment, then glanced at me sideways. I lowered my head, so embarrassed I wanted to escape immediately. In the end, he took the initiative to break the awkward tension, half-joking: “Stop making fun of your sister. I’m sure she wouldn’t ask such a question.” “Alright, everyone stop dwelling on this. It’s almost time to check scores.” At eight o’clock sharp, both Ethan’s and my score pages appeared simultaneously. In an instant, the atmosphere became extremely tense. Ethan and I had received the same score. My parents’ first reaction wasn’t excitement, but to scrutinize the screen repeatedly, then ask me where I’d copied from. Mason first praised Ethan effusively, then said to me with a grin: “You didn’t even get caught? Vivian, your cheating skills are off the charts. You should teach me sometime.” The emotions I’d been suppressing finally erupted. Tears streamed down uncontrollably. I violently pulled back my chair and yelled at them for the first time: “I didn’t cheat! I earned this score with my own ability!” Everyone was clearly stunned. After playing the role of the good girl for eighteen years, they’d already carved my compliant image into their bones. They obviously didn’t believe I would suddenly lose my temper. Under their shocked gazes, I got up and ran outside. Before opening the door, I heard Ethan’s voice. He was defending me: “Uncle, Aunt, you’ve misunderstood Vivian. She works very hard at school. This SAT score is what she deserves. We should be happy for her.” … I’d barely taken two steps outside when Ethan followed me out. He walked alongside me, and after a few words of comfort, suddenly asked: “We’ll be filling out college applications in a few days. Where are you thinking of applying?” If this had been before, when Ethan asked this question, I would have said NYU without hesitation. But that day, his conversation with his mother had left a thorn in my heart. I didn’t answer immediately, but threw the question back to him. “Where do you want to go?” Even though I already knew the answer. He paused, then replied: “…I’ll probably go with NYU.” After meeting my gaze, Ethan immediately looked away, afraid I might see through him. My chest ached as if pierced by countless needles. Two seconds later, I looked away, my voice hoarse: “Same as you.” “That’s great then. We can go together.” After he spoke, his eyes looked forward again. I stared at him. The words about breaking up that I’d been contemplating swirled on my tongue several times, but I couldn’t bear to say them. On the way back, Ethan and I parted ways. I knew he was lying to me. And I was lying to him too. Ethan didn’t want to apply to the same university as me. I would fulfill his wish—I wouldn’t apply to either Harvard or NYU. Cowardice and unwillingness made me unable to speak the word “ending,” so I would use this method to say goodbye to him properly. This relationship that was impure from the start—I didn’t want it anymore.

We had to return to school to fill out college applications. Afraid others would discover our relationship, Ethan specifically told me beforehand to avoid suspicion and not to approach him at school. I nodded in agreement. His absence would actually make it more convenient for me to act. By the time I finished filling out the application, it was already noon. Ethan was waiting for me far from the school. As soon as we met, he asked: “Did you put NYU as your first choice?” I lied without changing my expression: “Yes.” “I also applied to NYU.” My throat tightened. I stared at his smile, momentarily dazed, unable to process it. Wasn’t Ethan doing everything possible to avoid me, to not apply to the same university as me? What did this mean now? It wasn’t until the evening when the school organized an alumni dinner that I suddenly understood. It wasn’t for me—it was for Sophia. Sophia had also applied to NYU. Naturally, Ethan wouldn’t pass up this golden opportunity to get close to her. Most of the dishes on the table were very spicy. Unable to handle spicy food, I had few options, so halfway through the meal, my stomach was still empty. There was one last slice of pizza left on the plate. The second I reached for it, Sophia also extended her hand. Our eyes met in mid-air. I was starving. The frustration bottled up inside me made me unwilling to yield. Sophia seemed to sense this and was too proud to withdraw her fork. In the standoff, a hand with distinct knuckles reached across in front of me. And placed that slice of pizza in Sophia’s bowl. Ethan set down his fork and looked at me sideways, his tone gentle: “Sophia hasn’t eaten much all evening. Let her have this slice. If you want some, I’ll buy you more on the way home.” Glances from all directions landed on me. I understood the mockery in them, as if saying competing with Sophia for food was overestimating myself. I immediately lowered my head in embarrassment and pretended to be busy eating several bites of spicy stir-fried meat. The spiciness spread from my tongue, sliding into my stomach, all of it burning with pain. I somehow felt like laughing. I wanted to say that actually, I hadn’t eaten much either. But when I caught his gentle gaze as he glanced at Sophia, in the end I said nothing. I couldn’t compete with her anyway, could I? Why invite humiliation? After the dinner ended, they suggested going to karaoke. When Ethan saw Sophia was going, he eagerly signed up too. I didn’t want to participate and be a third wheel, so I called a rideshare home. The spasms in my stomach made it impossible to straighten up, and fine beads of sweat covered my forehead. I leaned against the seat back, enduring the pain while typing out a message. When the driver reached the destination, the words in the chat box were just being sent out. I had officially broken up with him. At midnight, Ethan sent me a SnapChat message telling me to come downstairs. I threw on a thin jacket and went out. He was sitting on a bench in the park, a pile of cigarette butts at his feet. This was the first time I knew he smoked. It was different from the person I knew. Ethan’s expression was gloomy. He didn’t look to be in a good mood. Thinking about last night’s dinner, he’d probably been rejected by Sophia again. Seeing me standing in front of him, he got straight to the point: “Vivian, why are you breaking up with me?”

I didn’t quite understand. Wasn’t this the result Ethan had always wanted? He liked Sophia, not me. What was wrong with me proposing a breakup? I thought about it and finally answered: “Because of that slice of pizza tonight. I was a bit sad I didn’t get to eat it.” “Just because of one slice of pizza?” “Yes, just because of that.” Ethan laughed bitterly at my response. “Didn’t I say Sophia hadn’t eaten much, so I let her have that slice, and that I’d buy you more on the way back?” “Why do you have to fixate on that one slice? Vivian, why are you so petty? What was so special about that pizza?” His words placed all the blame on me. But he didn’t know that some food only has appeal in specific settings. Once removed from that context, there’s no desire to touch it. It’s true for food, and for people too. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “That slice of pizza wasn’t special. What was special was your attitude.” “She wasn’t the only one at the table who hadn’t eaten much. I hadn’t either. But your gaze only stayed on Sophia, so you could only see her.” “You like her. I can’t force you to like me. I just don’t want to force myself anymore.” Ethan was smart—he understood immediately what I meant. He remained silent for a long time, then frowned and said: “You saw my diary?” “Yes.” He rubbed his brow, his voice unable to hide his exhaustion: “That was all written a long time ago. When filling out applications, I chose NYU for you. Isn’t that enough to show my attitude?” Seeing that I remained silent, Ethan’s patience ran out. He asked me one last time: “I’ll ask you one last time, Vivian. Are you sure you want to break up with me?” I nodded firmly: “Yes.” “Fine. You said it yourself.” “When you get to NYU, I won’t wait for you. And you’d better not regret it when I’m with Sophia.” I agreed to everything. Ethan stared at me intently, his eyes turning red from frustration. After accumulating enough disappointment, he left. After that day, we never contacted each other again. Our relationship instantly hit rock bottom. Mason would sometimes deliberately bring up Ethan at the dinner table, saying he and Sophia had finally achieved their happy ending. “Ethan and Sophia are the perfect match! Both talented and beautiful—just standing there, you can’t look away. So much more pleasing to the eye than standing with you! Tsk tsk tsk, too bad you didn’t see it in person.” I kept my head down eating, showing no reaction. He couldn’t help but poke me. “Hey, don’t you have anything to say about this?” “Oh, congratulations.” My tone was flat. The day the acceptance letters arrived, I received a call from the delivery person and went downstairs. I ran right into Ethan, who had also come to pick up his letter. His gaze flashed over me, deliberately pretending not to see me. I kept my distance from him, walking one behind the other to the delivery person. When the acceptance letter was handed to him, the delivery guy smiled: “After delivering all day, you’re the only one from NYU in this area. Not bad, young man.” Ethan’s body suddenly trembled. He immediately turned to look at me. I knew what he was thinking at that moment. So under his bewildered gaze, I stepped forward with a smile: “Vivian Walker, Cornell University.”

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Before the holiday break, my colleagues swarmed around me, pleading persistently: “I heard you got a new car. Can you take us to the West Coast for vacation?” “You’re the steadiest driver! We trust you! We definitely won’t let you lose out on gas money!” Soft-hearted as I was, I gave in and drove all nine people in our team on a thousand-mile road trip—for free. The entire journey was over a thousand miles. I drove nonstop, alone, until my hands were trembling from exhaustion. Everyone in the car just ate, drank, and had fun. No one ever offered to take over. On the day of the carnival, a few drunk men rushed over from the roadside, wrenched open my car door, and dumped two huge buckets of water directly into the driver’s seat. Water flooded into the control panel. The car started billowing white smoke. Trapped inside, I screamed for help: “Don’t leave! Pull me out!” But my colleagues—who’d been thanking me profusely just moments before—all fled without a shred of mercy. I spent over forty days in the ICU. My parents sold our house to save me and destroyed their health in the process. Yet this group of people never came to visit. Instead, they viciously slandered me in the company group chat. Savannah even sent a voice message: “I warned him not to drive long distances, but he just had to play the hero and show off!” My colleagues chimed in one after another: “He almost got us all killed. So selfish!” “Who’d dare go anywhere with him again!” No matter how I tried to explain, no one would listen. The company fired me outright, citing unauthorized organization of activities. I died filled with resentment. When I opened my eyes again, I’d returned to one week before the holiday. Looking at these people surrounding me with fake smiles and flattery, my eyes turned ice-cold. In this life, I will never be soft-hearted again. For every betrayal and injury, I will repay them double!

The pothos plant on my desk was still alive. There was no scar on my left hand. Savannah walked over from the break room in her high heels, holding a latte. She bent down and leaned close to my ear: “Adrian, didn’t you request annual leave to go on vacation to the West Coast? It’s right during the carnival festival too. Why don’t you take us along? We can split the gas!” I saved the email I was typing as a draft and closed the screen. “I’m not going anymore.” Savannah blinked. “What? But your leave was already approved. Didn’t you book a hotel too?” I picked up the water glass on my desk and took a sip. “I canceled it.” “I canceled everything.” I stared at the blinking cursor on my computer screen. I couldn’t type a single word. All I could see were scenes from my previous life. I remembered every second of those three minutes when the fire burned up from beneath my feet. After the seatbelt buckle got soaked with water, it wouldn’t release no matter how hard I pressed. I yanked at it until my nails flipped back, until the flesh on my fingers was rubbed raw, but I still couldn’t get it undone. The smoke came first, choking me so badly I couldn’t even open my eyes. Then the heat rose layer by layer. I screamed until my voice went hoarse, until I couldn’t make any sound at all. The car door was open. Savannah had left it open when she ran. I could see the road outside. People were running on the road, filming videos, screaming. But no one came to pull me out. In the end, it was a DoorDash delivery guy who happened to ride by on his motorcycle. Without a word, he rushed in, used a blade he carried with him to cut the seatbelt, and dragged me out of the driver’s seat by force. That guy’s arm got burned too. Later, when I was in the ICU, I asked my dad what his name was. My dad shook his head. He said the guy left right after putting me down. Didn’t even leave a phone number. Eight colleagues. Two thousand miles. Free rides, food, and lodging. In the end, the one who saved me was a stranger. I pulled my thoughts back and glanced around the office. Twelve desks, nine people seated. Savannah sat diagonally across from me. She was looking down at her phone. After I rejected her just now, she went back to her seat without another word, but I knew what she was thinking. It was the same in my previous life. After being rejected the first time, she stayed quiet for about half an hour, then started round two. Sure enough. She put down her phone, turned to look at me, and changed her expression. “Adrian, are you under too much work pressure lately? I think you really need to get out and relax. Look at those dark circles under your eyes.” “Yeah, I’m a bit tired,” I said. “Then you should definitely go out and have fun.” Savannah stood up and walked to my cubicle, resting one hand on the back of my chair. “The West Coast is great. The carnival is so lively. You’d be so bored going alone. If we all go together, we can take turns driving so you can rest too.” Take turns driving. In my previous life, she’d said the same thing. Two thousand miles, eight people, and I was the only one who ever touched the steering wheel throughout the entire trip. Eight people, eight excuses, each more ridiculous than the last. “I’m really not going,” I said. “I withdrew my leave request too. I’ll just stay home this weekend.” Savannah’s hand slid off my chair back. Her mouth fell open. “You… you withdrew your leave too?” “Yeah.” “But that was your annual leave. If you don’t use it, isn’t that a waste?” “I’ll save it for later.” Savannah looked at me for a few seconds, then smiled. “Alright then, rest well.” She turned and went back to her seat. I knew this was just the beginning.

At lunchtime, the break room started getting lively. I sat alone at a small table in the corner with my lunch box. I used to eat with Savannah. She said she didn’t like eating alone, so I waited for her every day. Now that I think about it, in three years, when did she ever wait for me? Voices drifted over from the microwave area, intermittent but clear enough for me to hear every word. “What are you guys doing this weekend?” It was Maya, the youngest in our team, who’d just graduated and joined last year. “I want to go to the West Coast for vacation. It’s right during the carnival, but plane tickets are so expensive—over three thousand dollars round trip.” “Didn’t you say Adrian was driving there? Just ride with him,” Marcus chimed in. Maya lowered her voice, though not by much: “He said he’s not going anymore. He even withdrew his leave.” “Huh? Why’d he suddenly cancel?” “No idea. Savannah asked him but he didn’t say why.” “Then what do we do? Plane tickets are too expensive, and the train takes forever.” “Driving would be the most economical, but he’s the only one in our team with a car.” “And it’s a brand new car too. If we split the gas money, we could save a lot over two thousand miles.” At this point, several people glanced in my direction simultaneously. I pretended not to notice and kept eating. The lunch box contained fried chicken pieces and baked mac and cheese my mom made last night. The chicken was crispy, but I couldn’t taste anything as I chewed. In my previous life at this time, I was excitedly sending everyone the trip itinerary, wishing I could plan every day’s route and every meal’s restaurant. I’d even bought sunscreen and waterproof bags for everyone in advance. Eight sets. Cost me nearly a thousand dollars. Savannah had said: “Adrian, you’re so thoughtful. Whoever marries you will be so lucky.” Followed by a string of laughing and heart emojis. Thoughtful. Thoughtful enough to nearly burn to death in a fire. After finishing lunch, I washed my lunch box and put it back in my bag. As I passed Savannah’s cubicle, she was talking to Maya. When they saw me coming, both fell silent at the same time. The air went quiet for about two seconds. Savannah spoke first: “Adrian, finished eating? What was in your lunch today?” “Fried chicken.” “Smells so good. Next time have your mom make me some too.” In my previous life, she’d said the same thing. My mom really did make it for her. For three years. Every time Savannah came to my house, my mom treated her like half a daughter, making a whole table of food, and insisting she take home two containers when she left. Savannah said she’d had no mother growing up. My mom felt sorry for her. Later, when I was lying in the ICU, Savannah posted in the employee group chat saying I’d insisted on driving my new car to take her to the carnival and nearly got her killed. When my mom saw that message, she was at the ICU entrance signing a critical condition notice. “Maybe some other time,” I replied flatly and walked back to my cubicle. Behind me, Maya said something quietly. I didn’t turn around.

At 2:30 PM, our manager held a brief meeting. It was supposedly to discuss wrapping up the second quarter projects, but it was really just a formality since most of the work was done. Only some finishing touches remained. Halfway through the meeting, Manager Mr. Smith casually asked: “What are everyone’s plans for the weekend? Is the on-call schedule set?” Savannah raised her hand: ” Mr. Smith, I’ve arranged the on-call schedule. I’m on duty this weekend. Maya and Marcus will rotate the other days.” The manager nodded. Then Savannah’s tone shifted, becoming very natural: “By the way, Mr. Smith, a few of us in the team wanted to go to the West Coast for vacation and catch the carnival, but plane tickets are too expensive, and so is renting a car. Adrian was originally going to drive there, but suddenly he’s not going anymore, so we’re stuck.” As she said this, her eyes swept over me—quick, but I caught it. Everyone else’s gazes drifted toward me at the same time. Mr. Smith glanced at me: “Didn’t Adrian request annual leave? Why aren’t you going now?” “I changed my mind. I want to rest at home.” “Young people shouldn’t just rest at home. Take advantage of your time off and go out.” Mr. Smith smiled and didn’t say more. But Savannah didn’t stop. “Exactly, Adrian. If you don’t go, none of us can go. Your car is so spacious—it can easily fit eight people. Splitting the cost over two thousand miles would be way cheaper than plane tickets.” The way she said it, she wasn’t asking me—she was deciding for me. Kiera immediately chimed in: “Right, right! Adrian, your car is so big. Take us with you. Plus, it’s not safe for you to drive that far alone. With more people, we can look out for each other.” Look out for each other. In my previous life, when the car caught fire, all eight of them ran faster than rabbits. Look out for what? Watch me burn? “I said I’m not going.” My voice came out louder than I’d intended. The conference room went quiet for a moment. Savannah’s smile stiffened briefly, then quickly recovered. “Alright, alright. If he doesn’t want to go, don’t force him.” She waved at everyone, her tone light as if discussing something trivial. But I saw Kiera’s mouth twitch downward. Marcus leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen on the table. He didn’t say anything, but his expression clearly read: Fine, so you won’t help us, huh. Less than an hour after the meeting ended, Savannah posted a message in the employee group chat. “Everyone! Regarding the weekend trip, I’ve organized the details. Colleagues who want to go to the carnival, please reply below. I’ll figure out transportation, don’t worry.” A string of names immediately followed. Maya, Marcus, Kiera, Helen, Leo, Peter, Nathan. Seven people. Plus Savannah herself made eight. Exactly the same as my previous life. The only one who didn’t reply was me. Savannah posted another message in the group: “Adrian, do you want to reconsider? It’s more fun with more people. You’d be so bored at home alone.” I didn’t respond. About half an hour later, Savannah stood up from her seat and walked to the conference room doorway, tapping on the door frame. “Everyone, come in for a minute. Quick meeting, won’t take long.” She called it a “quick meeting,” but she stood in front of the projection screen with a marker in hand. The whiteboard already had a title written on it: “Weekend Carnival Trip Plan.” The handwriting was neat. Clearly prepared in advance.

I sat in the back row, watching her. “I checked, and plane tickets are sixteen hundred to two thousand one way. Round trip would be three to four thousand. Too expensive.” Savannah wrote a number on the whiteboard and crossed it out. “I also checked buses, but there’s no direct route. You’d have to transfer twice, and just the journey alone takes over thirty hours. Total waste of time.” Another cross. “For renting a car, an eight-seater van costs twenty-eight hundred one way, fifty-six hundred round trip. Split among us, that’s seven hundred per person. Cheaper than flights, but still not cheap.” She paused, tapping her marker on the board twice. “The most economical option, actually, is a self-drive. Gas plus tolls for two thousand miles would be about a thousand dollars. Split eight ways, that’s only a bit over a hundred per person.” At this point, her gaze moved from the whiteboard and naturally settled on me. Not just her—everyone was looking at me. I was the only one in the team with a car. Everyone knew that. I sat in my chair, twirling my pen, my face expressionless. “But the problem is,” Savannah put down her marker, “Adrian is the only one in our team with a car, and his is electric. Charging is even cheaper than gas. If he could take us, splitting the charging fees among everyone, it might not even cost a hundred dollars.” Kiera was the first to speak: “Less than a hundred dollars! That’s such a steal!” “Exactly,” Maya followed up. “Buying plane tickets myself would cost thousands. Adrian, please take us.” Marcus said, “Your car fits eight people comfortably anyway. I saw it once—the back row can fold down into a bed.” “Adrian, you’re the best. Please help us out.” “We’re all colleagues. This little favor is nothing.” “You’re not even paying for gas. You’re just giving a few people a ride.” One after another, talking over each other. I waited until they finished, placed my pen on the table, and slowly straightened up. The conference room fell silent. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not going to the West Coast anymore. And I’m not lending my car either.” Savannah’s hand holding the marker froze. Kiera’s mouth gaped open. Marcus leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting from expectation to shock. “Why?” Savannah asked. Her voice was taut. “No particular reason. I just don’t want to go.” “What about the car? Can’t we drive it ourselves? We don’t need you to drive.” “No.” Savannah bit her lip. After a long moment, she spoke: “Adrian, you weren’t like this before.” I looked at her. I wasn’t like this before. Right. Before, I would have smiled and agreed, then driven two thousand miles alone, booked hotels alone, made all the plans alone, and taken all the blame alone. “People change.” After saying that, I picked up my phone and walked out of the conference room. I’d barely sat down at my desk when my phone vibrated. It was the department group chat. Savannah had posted a message, @-ing my name. “Adrian, I don’t know what you’re upset about, but everyone has been preparing for this trip plan for a long time. You’re the only one with a car but you’re unwilling to help everyone. I respect your decision. But I want everyone to know—it’s not that I didn’t try.” Silence for about ten seconds. Then Marcus posted an emoji: a thumbs-down. Kiera followed with a sighing emoji. Maya didn’t post an emoji, but she liked Savannah’s message. I stared at that message for five seconds. In front of the whole team, Savannah had pinned me in the position of being “unreasonable.” In my previous life, she’d done this after I got burned. In this life, she’d done it early. But in my previous life, I hadn’t taken screenshots. This time I did. I was about to lock my screen when Savannah sent another message. Not in the group this time—a private message. “Adrian, I don’t want our relationship to sour. But think carefully. I’m the one who arranges the on-call schedule. Next month’s project assignments go through me too. Do you really want to oppose the entire team?” I looked at that line of text, my finger hovering above the screen. This wasn’t a request anymore. This was a threat!

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To earn medical expenses for my six-year-old autistic son, my wife Anna took on the high-risk job of river dredging through my brother Brandon’s introduction. During a flood season, she and my brother accidentally fell into the water and drowned. Three months after they left, my son also died from prolonged refusal to eat and stress-induced exhaustion. To prevent others from repeating my son’s tragedy, I took care of my wife’s parents while burying myself in study. I developed a specialized treatment plan for severe autism, and later opened a charity clinic to help autistic children free of charge. Until that day when I suddenly received a call for help. “Is this Dr. Smith speaking?” “My daughter also has severe autism. Can you save her?” I froze, because on the other end of the line was the voice of my wife who had been dead for ten years. On the phone, the woman pleaded almost humbly: “Dr. Smith, please, you’re our last hope.” A man’s voice came from beside her, tearful: “Dr. Smith, my daughter’s name is Lucy. She’s four years old with severe autism, and she’s contracted uremia. She refuses medical treatment—she’s terrified of doctors. Now she has multiple organ failure, and the hospital has issued a critical condition notice.” “We’ve asked everywhere. In the whole country, only you can save her!” I’d received no less than a hundred such calls in ten years. My charity clinic was the last lifeline for countless families with autistic children. Every time, my answer had been yes, and I never charged a penny. But this time, suppressing the chill rising from my very bones, I interrupted her directly: “The child’s name, age, and parents’ names.” The phone went quiet for a moment before the woman spoke: “The child’s name is Lucy. She’s four years old. My name is Anna, and her father’s name is…” “Brandon.” I finished for her. The line went dead silent, as if surprised I would know. Anna, Brandon. These two names, after ten years, stabbed viciously into my heart once again. I felt instantly transported back to that funeral ten years ago. The venue was packed with people. The coffin sat beside an open grave as people stood in silence, holding black umbrellas. Anna’s mother collapsed on the coffin, crying until she could barely breathe: “Anna! My daughter! How could you die—” Anna’s father stood beside her, eyes red, supporting her, his voice trembling: “Don’t cry, don’t cry… let Anna leave this world in peace…” Several relatives reached out to pull Anna’s mother back, some offering tissues, some patting her back, murmuring: “I’m so sorry for your loss.” I stood to the side holding three-year-old Lorne, feeling completely hollowed out. Lorne, uncomfortable from my tight grip, patted my face with his small hand: “Daddy, hurts…” Anna’s voice took on a tentative tone. “Dr. Smith, you… you know us?” I didn’t answer, only heard Anna urgently whispering to Brandon on the other end, then promising me again: “Dr. Smith, money is no object. We’ll give you whatever we have!” “As long as you’re willing to help, we’re willing to donate… no, to pay you one million! Please!” One million. Back then, when Anna abandoned our son who also had autism, she took the two hundred thousand dollars in death benefits—my son’s lifeline—and faked her death to escape. How resolute she had been then. Now, to save her daughter with Brandon, Anna was truly generous. My fingers gripping the pen turned white from the pressure as I spoke, word by word. “I’m sorry, this child—I won’t save her.” “Why?!” Anna’s voice suddenly shot up, full of disbelief. “We can pay more! Two million! Dr. Smith, you’ve always been…” Anna couldn’t finish her sentence. I hung up directly. The phone slipped from my trembling palm and hit the desk with a dull thud. Finally, the whole world was quiet.

When I pushed open the front door, the aroma of food hit me, but my stomach only churned. In the dining room, Anna’s parents were already seated at the long table. Across from them, as always, was an empty seat with a clean place setting. Anna’s mother carried a casserole, carefully spooning creamy mashed potatoes onto the plate in front of that empty seat. She cut up a piece of gravy-covered steak and placed it there, murmuring: “Anna, time to eat. I made your favorite roast beef today.” Ten years, rain or shine. They believed Anna had died heroically in flood relief efforts ten years ago, her body never recovered. A hero. So for these ten years, at every meal, they left a place for Anna, with food set out. As if she were still alive, just away on a trip. I stared at that plate of steaming food, hatred churning inside me. The daughter they worshipped day and night was actually living well in another city at this very moment. And Anna and Brandon were humbly begging me to save their daughter. I changed my shoes and walked over step by step. “Smith, you’re home? Hurry and wash your hands for dinner, today…” Anna’s mother looked up at me with a kind smile. But her words cut off abruptly. Because I walked straight to that empty seat, and under their shocked gazes, I picked up the food left for Anna, turned around, and threw it—plate and all—into the kitchen trash. The crash of breaking dishes exploded in the silent air. “Smith, have you lost your mind?!” Anna’s father shot to his feet, trembling with rage. Tears instantly streamed down Anna’s mother’s face as she looked at me in disbelief: “Smith… what are you doing? That’s… that’s food left for Anna…” I turned around and looked coldly at them, at these pitiful old people who’d been kept in the dark for ten years. I couldn’t tell them that their proud daughter wasn’t dead at all. Anna just found my autistic son and me to be burdens, so she and my best friend planned a fake death and ran away together. I couldn’t say a single word of it. I could only vent my ten years of accumulated resentment in the cruelest way. “Dead people don’t deserve to eat.” That night, I didn’t return to my room. I sat in my son’s room. Everything in the room remained exactly as it was when he left. His crooked drawing of our family still sat on the desk. I picked up the worn, matted stuffed toy from the bedside. This was a birthday gift Brandon had given my son. My son loved it. In his final moments, he clutched it tightly in his arms, calling over and over: “Mommy… Mommy…” I held that toy and sat there all night, until dawn squeezed through the curtain cracks and shone coldly on my face.

The next day at the clinic, Eve made me a cup of hot tea. As she handed it over, her slender fingers paused on the white ceramic cup. Her expression was gentle as always, but her tone carried a trace of concern: “Dr. Smith, yesterday’s call… you really refused?” “I’ve never seen you like this.” Eve was my deputy and my most capable partner. She knew how much I’d sacrificed for this charity clinic, and she knew I treated every patient like my own child, never giving up before. I picked up the teacup without answering. The warm liquid slid down my throat, but couldn’t warm that frozen heart. “Take it slow. There’s always hope.” Seeing my pale face, Eve habitually tried to comfort me. I forced a slight smile in response. Hope? My hope died ten years ago. Before I could speak, the office door burst open. A young rehabilitation therapist rushed in frantically: “Dr. Smith, Miss Eve, something’s wrong—someone’s kneeling outside!” Eve and I exchanged glances and immediately headed out. The afternoon sun was vicious as fire, baking the ground until white heat rose from it. Outside the clinic entrance, a large crowd had gathered, mostly parents picking up their children. In the center of the crowd, a woman knelt upright on the scorching cement. Behind her stood a man, helplessly holding a child, his face full of anxiety. It was them. Anna and Brandon. I put on a mask and slowly walked through the crowd to stand before them. “Dr. Smith! You’re finally willing to see us!” The moment Anna saw me, she crawled forward on her knees two steps, crying, her voice pitiful: “Please, save my daughter! As long as you’re willing to help, we’ll give you any amount of money!” Brandon also chimed in with red-rimmed eyes and a hoarse voice: “Dr. Smith, we’ve asked around. Only you can save her. Please have mercy!” My gaze fell on the child in their arms. Lucy. She wore soft, comfortable cotton clothes. Her face was pale, but she still showed signs of careful nurturing. Her features resembled Anna’s. But my son Lorne… When he died, he wore faded old clothes, washed until they were white. He was so thin he was just bones. His tiny body curled in my arms, his last weak breath still stubbornly calling for the woman who’d abandoned him. “Mommy…” My heart felt like someone had torn it open with a dull blade, blood pouring out, the pain almost making me unable to stand. The surrounding parents began whispering. “Dr. Smith has always been so soft-hearted, why this time…” “Right, what a pitiful child. They’ve been kneeling here so long.” I took a deep breath, suppressing the metallic taste rising in my throat. Under everyone’s puzzled gazes, I looked down at Anna kneeling on the ground and said coldly: “Stop dreaming.” “I’ll save anyone else, but not this child.”

The moment those words fell, the entire scene went dead silent. Anna, kneeling on the ground, jerked her head up, her eyes full of disbelief. Brandon behind her also froze, his lips trembling, unable to speak. “Why?” Anna’s voice shook. “Dr. Smith, how have we offended you? As long as you save the child, money is no problem!” “One million! No, five million! We’ll transfer it to you right now!” She thought I was demanding a higher treatment fee. The surrounding parents exploded in discussion, voices surging like a tide. “Five million! Why won’t Dr. Smith agree?” “Exactly. Dr. Smith never charges us anything to treat our children. What’s wrong today?” “Still, you can’t gamble with a child’s life…” These people who had once received my kindness now looked at me with reproach. I ignored them, my gaze still coldly fixed on Anna’s face. Seeing me unmoved, Anna seemed to have all her strength drained. She collapsed to the ground crying, her voice shrill: “You have no heart! How can you be so cruel!” “She’s just a child! You’re refusing to save her! This is murder!” Brandon also stepped forward with red eyes, pointing at my nose and roaring: “Do you have any medical ethics at all! We came seeking medical help, not charity! If you won’t save her, we’ll call the police!” He actually pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services. Soon, a police car came roaring up. Two officers listened to Brandon’s embellished accusations, looked at Anna crying her heart out on the ground, and finally approached me with difficulty: “Um… Dr. Smith, is it? Given this situation…” Eve immediately stepped forward, blocking me, calmly presenting the clinic’s charity certification documents: “Officers, we’re a charity organization. All assistance is voluntary and doesn’t fall under medical dispute jurisdiction.” The police looked at the documents and immediately understood. They sighed and shrugged at Anna and Brandon: “We can’t get involved in this. Providing help is a favor, not an obligation. We can’t force it.” With their last hope shattered, Anna’s face instantly turned deathly pale. In the deathly silence, I suddenly let out a low laugh. I walked back in front of Anna and looked at that face—both familiar and strange—asking word by word: “Anna, do you really not know why I won’t save your daughter?” Under her incredulous gaze, I slowly pulled down my mask.

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The first thing my foster brother Joey did after getting his driver’s license was ask to borrow my sports car to pick up girls. I said no, so on my wedding day, he drove off with my wedding car. Amidst the roar of the engine, he sent me a voice message, sounding carefree. “William, I’ll take your bride to the wedding venue first. You can just grab an Uber.” The scene fell silent. I turned to look at Mia’s father, Carter, standing at the back of the crowd. He avoided my gaze and simply said, “William, don’t misunderstand. Joey and Mia already know each other well. It’s just a car ride, nothing serious. Let’s not delay the wedding.” I nodded, then spoke directly to my assistant. “Call the police. Someone just stole a car in broad daylight and is suspected of kidnapping.” “Also, notify the bank. I’m withdrawing my guarantee on that two hundred million dollar loan for the Carter family.” The moment I finished speaking, Carter’s expression changed instantly. He rushed over to stop me, his tone full of negotiation. “William, let’s talk this through. It’s our wedding day—let’s not make a spectacle for outsiders.” I replied with a cold laugh. “So you do know it’s a wedding. The bride just ran off with some other guy, leaving the groom to Uber to his own wedding. You’re not worried about being a laughingstock?” The smile on Carter’s face completely collapsed. “This is indeed Mia crossing the line. I’ll call her right now and tell her to come back!” But after three consecutive calls, Mia didn’t pick up. Just as Carter was sweating bullets, Joey sent me a message. In the video, he had Mia, disheveled, pinned against the passenger seat. “William, look—Mia’s so excited she’s hyperventilating. I’m just giving her mouth-to-mouth.” I held my phone right up to Carter’s face. “Is this what you call ‘nothing serious’?” “Since she has Joey, I’ll make it easy for both of you.” As soon as I finished speaking, police cars surrounded the Rolls-Royce in the distance. Mia hurriedly got out of the car, her face still flushed. “William, what’s the meaning of this?” “Joey was just joking with you. We’re all family here. You really want to send your own brother to jail?” Joey stood beside her looking utterly wronged. “Don’t blame William. It’s all my fault for not knowing my boundaries. Don’t fight because of me.” Hearing this, Mia got even angrier. “See how understanding Joey is? Besides, I gave him the car keys. I was the one who asked him to take me for a ride. If you’ve got the guts, have the police arrest me too.” Since she was defending Joey so adamantly, I’d grant her wish. I yanked out the dashcam and handed it to the police. “Officer, you just heard them. One’s the principal offender, the other’s an accomplice. Not only did they steal the car, they were speeding and parked on a non-motor vehicle road.” “Please handle this according to the law.” Seeing I was serious, Mia completely panicked. Her voice carried a barely detectable tremor. “William, I’m your wife. Are you really going to send me to jail?” I waved my phone at her. “The wedding’s been canceled. Didn’t you know?” Carter stood beside her, frantically gesturing for her to apologize. Mia froze for a moment, her face instantly losing all color. After a pause, she came before me and took my arm proactively. “William, are you jealous?” I didn’t respond. She pressed the car keys into my hand. “What happened just now was my fault. I promise you, I’ll never do something so thoughtless again. Please don’t be angry, okay?” “The wedding’s about to start. Let’s hurry to the venue.” I pushed her away roughly. Staring at her ingratiating smile, my voice was ice-cold. “If you want me to drop this, it’s not impossible.” “The police are right here. Tell them what really happened just now. You know what I want to hear.” Mia frowned deeply, trembling all over. Under everyone’s gaze, she slowly spoke. “Just now, Joey stole the car keys. I was tricked into getting in the car with him.” Since she stepped forward to identify him, the police wasted no time and took Joey away directly. The police car drove off with its sirens blaring. Carter also cautiously approached me. “William, are you satisfied with this resolution? Then about our two families’ wedding…”

I straightened my cuffs and glanced indifferently at Mia, who looked like she’d lost her soul. “The wedding will be postponed. As for the two hundred million guarantee, I’ll communicate with the bank.” With that, I turned and got in my car to leave. After this fiasco, Mia settled down considerably. For the first time ever, she made a lunch box herself and brought it to my office. I knew she was trying to make me happy, to keep a tight grip on this cash cow. But I didn’t care. After all, Mia and I had been together for seven years. Back when my grandmother was critically ill, Mia stayed by her bedside to care for her. The night before Grandma passed, I held her hand and swore I would treat her well for the rest of my life. As long as she didn’t court death, I could let bygones be bygones. But then I saw Joey’s new social media post. That’s when I realized how laughable my previous thinking had been! In the photo, Joey—who should’ve been in detention—was standing in the garage of the wedding house I’d bought. Behind him, my limited-edition Rolls-Royce was covered in green paint. The dozen or so sports cars in the garage, each worth millions, hadn’t been spared either. Joey had even added a cheeky caption. “Now this is living!” Rage instantly flooded my brain. I called Mia directly. “Why is Joey at my house?” She was silent for a moment. “William, Joey is your brother. After something this serious happened, he didn’t dare go home. He’s just staying at our place for one night. Don’t be so petty.” I was petty? I laughed in disbelief. I sent her the photo from Joey’s social media directly. “Since you’re so generous, your family can cover all the damages.” Mia’s displeased voice came through. “William, you’re so rich. Why do you care about such small matters?” “I know you’ve always looked down on Joey, but you’ve really gone too far this time.” I couldn’t be bothered arguing with her and simply hung up. It seemed I’d given Mia too much kindness lately, so much that she’d forgotten her place. Now she was bringing an outsider into my home and actually expecting me to pretend I didn’t notice? As if! After I hung up, Mia didn’t send messages to soften up like before. I knew she was using this method to resist me. But I didn’t care. I called the police directly. “911? Someone broke into my private residence and deliberately damaged my personal property. Initial estimates show my personal losses exceed one hundred million dollars!” Soon, I followed the police back home. Only then did I discover it wasn’t just the garage. Joey was standing in front of my wine cabinet with his delinquent friends playing drinking games. Those precious wines I’d collected from around the world—they’d taken a few sips, then smashed the bottles all over the floor. I pulled out my phone and started recording them. I also notified my assistant to bring people over for appraisal. Joey looked at the living room full of police and waved dismissively with a smile. “It’s all a misunderstanding. This is my brother’s house. We’re brothers—we can settle this ourselves.” I let out a cold laugh and called him by name directly. “Joey, you’re just a driver’s son. You’ve been riding on the fact that your dad once saved my dad’s life. Our family raised you all these years—that debt was paid off long ago!”

I pointed at the two empty rows on the wine cabinet. “You guys really know how to pick. These bottles were ones I bought at a European auction for eighty million dollars. If you can’t pay up today, I’m sending you all to prison!” Seeing this, Joey’s drunk friends instantly sobered up. They waved their hands frantically, trying to distance themselves. “This has nothing to do with me! Joey said to treat this place like our own home and invited us to hang out!” “We didn’t touch those cars either. I have video proof. Joey did it all by himself. He lied and told us he was the heir to the Jones family fortune, and said the Jones family wouldn’t care about this small amount of money!” Before he could finish, Joey punched him. “You bastards, you’re selling me out?” Several of them got into a brawl until a police officer shouted them to a stop. Perhaps realizing things couldn’t be salvaged, Joey knelt before me with a black eye. “William, I’m sorry. I know I was wrong.” “Could you please, for my dad’s sake, let me off just this once?” I said nothing. Since childhood, Joey had always competed with me. Competing over grades, over the number of awards. Later in college, it became about stealing everything from me. Stealing gifts, stealing recommendation spots—I didn’t care about any of that. Even on my wedding day, when he drove off with my luxury car and my bride, I didn’t really do anything to him. But now, all the resentment accumulated over the years finally erupted. This time, I absolutely wouldn’t let him off! “Can’t pay? Then I’ll contact my lawyer to file a lawsuit.” “The sports cars and wines are worth over a hundred million. Looks like you’ll be spending the next twenty years in prison.” I patted his shoulder, my tone light and airy. Watching his face turn deathly pale, I felt immensely satisfied. At the same time, Mia had already rushed to the villa. When she saw Joey’s black eyes, she pushed me hard without asking any questions. “William, you actually hit someone in broad daylight? Do you have any respect for the law?” “The law? This is my house. He broke in, smashed my cars and wine, and now in front of the police, who’s the one without legal awareness?” Mia was stunned. At this moment, Joey grabbed her clothes like a drowning man clutching at straws. “Mia, I really didn’t mean it. I just wanted to show my friends around, but William not only wants to sue me, he wants me to go to prison for twenty years. Please save me!” Hearing this, Mia looked at me again, her tone no longer as harsh as before. “Joey’s just a bit playful. These material possessions—we can just buy more. Why make such a big deal out of it?” “Fine. You compensate for all the damages at market value, and I’ll let him go.” Meeting my gaze, Mia hesitated for only a second before gritting her teeth and agreeing. “I’ll pay.” With her commitment, the police left after having both parties sign documents, citing private mediation. I instructed my assistant, who’d arrived late. “Renovate the entire villa from top to bottom. As for the compensation, once the lawyer determines the total amount, transfer it directly from Carter Group’s accounts. If that’s not enough, liquidate company shares until it’s covered.”

After all, three years ago, Carter Group was on the verge of bankruptcy due to failed financing. That’s when Carter came to me for help. I agreed to support Carter Group. But the condition was that I had to be the largest controlling shareholder of Carter Group. Over three years, I invested a lot of money into Carter Group. Including recently when they wanted to buy land in the east district to enter real estate development—I was the one who guaranteed their bank mortgage loan. Now, Mia wanted to swallow such a huge compensation payment for another man. I could make her go bankrupt! Behind me came Mia’s disdainful laugh. “William, whether you have the ability to touch my family’s company accounts remains to be seen!” She pulled out a document from her bag and threw it in my face. “Open your eyes and look clearly—who exactly is the controlling shareholder of Carter Group now!” The sharp edge of the paper cut a bloody mark across my cheek. The contract actually stated that Mia had transferred all my shares to Joey’s name a week ago. Not only that, she’d also transferred over a dozen of my subsidiary companies to Joey. The seal on the signature was my grandmother’s private seal. I suddenly remembered—before Grandma died, she’d given her private seal to Mia. Back then, she treated Mia as family, so she entrusted her with the seal that could influence major company decisions, hoping Mia would work with me to grow the Jones Group. I never expected she’d exploit this loophole and turn it into leverage against me! “I endured your foul temper all this time because the paperwork hadn’t been finalized. But now everything’s settled. William, you’re nothing but a penniless bum now!” Mia surveyed the mess in the room, speaking lightly. “As for the compensation, we’ll just process it through those subsidiaries of yours. You’ve made quite a bit of money over the years, but in the end, it’s all been a wedding dress for us!” “Consider this your apology gift to Joey.” Joey, looking like a petty villain who’d just won, came before me. “William, the wheel of fortune turns. You’ve been the heir for so many years—it’s time for a change. But given our relationship, I won’t let you sleep on the streets. Carter Group happens to need a security guard. You can start right away.” I stared at the two of them without speaking. Mia waved her hand, and several bodyguards entered from outside. “I can give you one chance now. As long as you kneel here and repent for three hours, our wedding can proceed as scheduled.” The floor was covered with broken glass from wine bottles. Kneeling for three hours would probably cripple both legs. Mia was deliberately trying to humiliate me. Seeing I didn’t move, she smiled disdainfully. “Don’t worry. Even if you become disabled, I can support you for life.” Joey pressed down on my shoulders, forcing me to kneel. He even pulled out his phone and started a livestream, pointing the camera at my face. “William, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and kneel!” I couldn’t hold back anymore and punched him in the nose. Mia screamed, about to stop me. But the bodyguards who’d been standing around suddenly surrounded her instead. In her bewildered gaze, I shook my slightly numb right hand and said coldly: “Mia, you’ve misunderstood something.” “Grandma’s private seal can indeed authorize shareholder transfers, but only if we’re officially married. But you’re an outsider who hasn’t even entered the Jones family. Your actions constitute commercial theft, and I have the right to pursue all your illegal activities.” “As for Carter Group, the moment it lost me as its backer, it was already being carved up. I didn’t even need to lift a finger.” As I finished speaking, her phone vibrated frantically.

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In my past life, Ethan fell into ruin because of me—imprisoned, his family destroyed. Before he died, he spat blood and begged me: “In the next life, please don’t cling to me anymore.” Reborn back to senior year before everything went wrong, I decided to grant his wish. I distanced myself from him, endured bullying, and quietly planned to leave for a distant land. Yet when I was humiliated, he watched coldly from the sidelines. When I was slandered, he kicked me while I was down. He said: “An ungrateful wretch—I’m sick of her.” But when I finally boarded the plane to leave, he came chasing after me like a madman. The day Uncle Wilson brought me home, he said to Ethan: “Lily is a hero’s daughter. From now on, you must take good care of your sister.” Because of that one sentence, Ethan took care of me for ten years, from age eight to eighteen. I suffer from selective mutism—emotionally closed off, learning difficulties, lacking even basic self-care abilities. When I was ten, classmates locked me in the equipment room while Ethan wasn’t around, watching me break down. When Ethan found out, he blinded one of the perpetrator’s eyes. For this, the academically excellent boy not only received disciplinary action but was also made to kneel all night by Uncle Wilson. At twelve, I got my first period during the school sports meet. Face flushed, he bought me my first pack of sanitary pads and stammered through asking the school nurse to teach me about it. At fifteen, I was tricked by bad people to a hotel and nearly assaulted. He rushed in desperately and pulled me out from those thugs who carried knives and guns. Back then, his voice trembled with urgency as he struck my palm: “Will you ever follow strangers again?! Running off like that! Never listening!” He hit hard. I cried from the pain, but I didn’t blame him. Because that hand of his was covered in injuries from saving me. He was so good to me, yet I distanced myself from him when I turned eighteen. All because at a class dinner, drunk, he said: “Lily’s such an idiot. When she was little, I thought she was cute and was willing to take care of her. Who knew she’d still be this ‘cute’ at eighteen? If her parents hadn’t died saving my dad, I wouldn’t bother with this burden!” From that day on, I woke up an hour earlier every morning, took the bus to school alone, avoiding his schedule. At school, I ate lunch by myself, no longer joining his group. When Morgan, the girl pursuing him, cornered me in the hallway to bully me, I no longer looked to him for help. Instead, I kept my head down and silently endured Morgan’s malice. I became even more silent and obedient. Whether at school or home, I stopped causing him any trouble. But now he blocked my bedroom door: “Lily, how long are you going to avoid me?” I gripped my backpack straps and ducked under his arm. He suddenly pinned me against the wall: “Just because I said something stupid when I was drunk, you’re going to hold a grudge this long?” I knew his drunken words weren’t genuine resentment—it was because we’d argued that day. Despite my mutism, I also cared about beauty. That day I’d shortened my school skirt like Morgan did and happily showed it off to Ethan. His face darkened: “Who said you could wear such a short skirt? Change it back!” After all, I’d painstakingly altered the uniform myself, and he wouldn’t let me wear it. I clutched the skirt protectively: “Why can Morgan and the others wear it but I can’t?” “Can you compare yourself to her? Don’t you know your own situation?” Actually, I knew he meant that my mental state wasn’t fully developed, I couldn’t protect myself properly, and a short skirt would attract bad people. But in that moment, emotions got the better of me and I scratched three marks across his face. Feeling depressed, he vented with those harsh words while drunk. Returning to the present, I whispered: “Yes, because of those harsh words.” Then I pushed past him and walked out. He pounded the wall behind me: “Lily, you’re really heartless! I’ve taken care of you like a slave for ten years! If I really thought you were a burden, why would I act like your dog? Isn’t what you’re doing now breaking my heart?” Bang. Uncle Wilson’s bedroom door opened. He yawned and said: “You two leaving this early? Ethan, drive slowly and take good care of Lily.” Ethan and I stopped arguing abruptly. Neither of us wanted the adults to notice, so we had no choice but to leave the house together. At the door, Morgan greeted Ethan cheerfully: “Ethan, good morning.” Morgan had been chasing Ethan for three years. After learning they lived in the same neighborhood, she waited at his door every morning. But Ethan always treated her like she was invisible. Of course, except when she was bullying me—then Morgan also treated me like I was invisible. Seeing both our faces tense, Morgan’s lips couldn’t hide her excitement: “Did you two fight?” Ethan ignored her, steadying his bicycle and asking me: “Lily, you’ve decided. Continue this cold war, or ride with me to school?” I said nothing, head down as I walked past him. He didn’t try to stop me either, gritting his teeth: “Fine, don’t regret this!” Then he looked at Morgan: “Morgan, get on.” Morgan gasped with delight and climbed onto Ethan’s bike. The boy rode past me quickly, the puddle water splashing and dirtying my school skirt hem. I watched his cold, retreating back and Morgan’s smugness, suppressing the deep ache in my heart. Ethan, don’t worry. This lifetime, I won’t hold you back anymore.

He didn’t know—I’ve been reborn. In my past life, Ethan married me out of responsibility. After marriage, my mutism grew worse for certain reasons. During episodes, I became paranoid and violent, attacking Ethan with fists and scratches multiple times. A perfectly good professor, his face covered in scratches from me. Yet toward me, Ethan never uttered a word of complaint. Unexpectedly, Ethan’s rivals reported him for raping a mentally ill woman under the guise of marriage. Just like that, the prestigious Northbridge University professor was arrested on rape charges. Uncle Wilson and his wife begged me to testify in court, but with my severe illness, I couldn’t even speak, which only further confirmed the charge that he violated my will. After Ethan was imprisoned, I entered a psychiatric hospital for treatment. When my condition improved slightly, I went to court to clear his name. But by then, his reputation was destroyed, his job lost, and all his pride had been ground away in prison. The night I picked him up from prison, he drove in silence. With his shaved head and ill-fitting old clothes, those eyes that once shone with youth were filled with exhaustion from being dragged down. Filled with guilt, I asked him for a divorce. Then, a car out of control came speeding toward us. Before impact, Ethan instinctively shielded me with his body. He died. Before dying, spitting blood, he said: “Lily, if you truly feel sorry for me, don’t cling to me in the next life. I’m so tired.” His parents lost their only son. Within half a year, they both passed away. And I, this burden, destroyed Ethan and ruined Uncle Wilson and his wife who raised me. After burying Ethan’s parents, I found a deserted place and quietly left this world. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at eighteen, senior year. Ethan wasn’t imprisoned, wasn’t dead. He stood vividly on the table, drunkenly spouting harsh words. In my past life, I was heartbroken for a long time after hearing those words. But after rebirth, I smiled and called my mom’s nominal younger brother—my uncle. I just had to wait one month, then leave the country with my uncle. …… When I arrived at school, first period hadn’t started yet. Morgan sat on Ethan’s lap, the two sharing a cookie, incredibly intimate. Classmates around them teased: “Congratulations to campus beauty Morgan—after three years of pursuit, you finally caught the top student.” “I always said Lily was bad luck—killed her parents and cursed Ethan. Now that the idiot’s away from Ethan, he and Morgan finally got together!” “Ethan, you won’t protect Lily anymore, right?” “Then we…” Morgan’s girlfriends glanced at me with sinister glee, their intent to torment clear as day. Since freshman year, Morgan had been jealous of my relationship with Ethan, constantly undermining me openly and covertly, even bullying me when Ethan wasn’t around. Their malicious stares pierced me. I couldn’t help shrinking back, instinctively looking toward Ethan. But Ethan’s words were brief and cruel: “Don’t go too far. I have to answer to my parents.” I kept my head down and quickly passed through that crowd of malicious gazes, only to see my desk piled with garbage—sticky soy sauce mixed with moldy bread firmly stuck to the surface. People around me snickered. I felt lost, frozen for a long time before starting to clean it up. I heard Morgan say: “Ethan, you don’t feel sorry for her, do you? You always protected her before. Now you’re my boyfriend. I won’t allow you to be soft-hearted toward other girls, even an adopted sister!” Ethan said indulgently: “What adopted sister? Just an ungrateful wretch who can’t even speak properly. I’m sick of her.” My hand paused. My heart felt a faint numbness. Morgan’s beautiful, delicate shoes appeared in my vision. Crash! Dirty, sticky garbage was swept onto my head. Frightened, I fell to the ground, helplessly wiping at my hair covered in soy sauce and mold. The surrounding students laughed louder. I looked up indignantly, but what awaited me was Morgan’s heavy slap. “Try looking at me like that again.” Morgan’s delicate face filled with mockery. “Lily, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? Let your sister-in-law treat you to breakfast.” Two male classmates pinned my hands behind my back. I knelt humiliatingly in that pile of garbage, sharp glass shards piercing my knees. “Ah, it hurts…” Morgan grabbed that ball of black moldy bread and tried to shove it in my mouth. I struggled but couldn’t break free, biting my lips tightly, my face covered in the garbage’s soy sauce and mold: “Mmph!” Years of habit made me instinctively look toward Ethan. A flash of reluctance crossed the boy’s brow. He mouthed: “Just give in and I’ll save you.” He permitted Morgan to hurt me, waiting for me to beg him for help. I withdrew the tears from my eyes and suddenly rammed into Morgan’s stomach. “Morgan!” Ethan caught the off-balance Morgan in alarm. Just then, the homeroom teacher’s voice rang out: “What’s going on here?”

The homeroom teacher seemed like a lifeline to me. Seeing the filth on my face, she asked sternly: “Who’s openly bullying a classmate in class? Morgan, was it you?” Morgan rolled her eyes, clutching her stomach: “Teacher, you can’t favor Lily just because she’s sick. She’s the one who rammed into me.” Seeing Morgan’s pain didn’t seem faked, the teacher looked at me critically: “Lily, you explain.” But I’m naturally mute. Except when facing Ethan and his parents when I can communicate normally, when interacting with others, being able to say ten words in a sentence is already good. I stammered: “It’s not, I… I…” The powerlessness of being unable to defend myself made me anxious. Just then, Ethan stepped forward and said: “Teacher, let me explain.” Like a beam of light shining on me, I looked at Ethan hopefully, thinking he would give me justice. But Ethan said: “Lily had an episode this morning and made a mess of her own desk. Morgan kindly tried to help, but she not only wouldn’t listen, she rammed Morgan with her head.” His tone was lazy: “That’s what happened. No one bullied Lily. She attacked someone while sick.” In an instant, my mind went blank. He knew full well that when facing false accusations, I had no ability to defend myself. Yet now, he cruelly threw dirty water on me. The teacher was disappointed: “Lily, you’ve let me down! Go stand in the hallway and reflect on yourself!” The teacher’s criticism stung. I stared blankly at Ethan, lips trembling: “Why?” He didn’t give me any look, carrying Morgan to the infirmary. Only when passing me did he raise his eyes: “The teacher told you to go stand in the hallway. What, didn’t understand?” My heart throbbed with dull pain. Ethan, my knees are bleeding. Can’t you see? After class, the crowded hallway was full of malicious stares. “Look at her face, so disgusting!” “Doesn’t it look like a pile of shit stuck to her face?” The mockery was endless. Someone even picked up the disgusting bread from my desk and threw it at me. I trembled all over, completely breaking down. My condition felt like a flood about to breach the dam, ready to become hysterical any moment. I didn’t want to hurt others during an episode, so I shakily fumbled through my bag for my medicine. Finally finding it, someone snatched it away. “Give it back!” I looked up sharply to see Morgan’s mocking expression. And Ethan stood beside her, not stopping her. I stood up and rushed toward Morgan, only wanting to get the medicine back. But Ethan instinctively kicked me away, as if I were some uncontrolled wild dog: “You want to hurt people again?” His force wasn’t great, but that kick shattered my heart. Seeing me fall, Ethan looked away with reluctance: “Lily, if you apologize to Morgan, I’ll have her return your medicine. After all, you were in the wrong first. She’s doing this just to get your apology.” He wasn’t someone who couldn’t tell right from wrong. Who was at fault—he knew perfectly well. Ethan was doing this just to force me to give in. He was so excessive, yet I didn’t even have the right to hate him. After all, I truly owed him my life. Thinking of what I owed him in my past life, I stood up and left dejectedly: “I won’t take it.” The boy’s footsteps moved forward unconsciously, but ultimately pride won out and he didn’t chase after me. I went to clean the filth from my body, trying to make myself somewhat presentable. Just as I’d finished washing my face, Morgan came over twirling her delicate hair. “What spell did you cast on Ethan to make him care about you so much? Eagerly sending me to bring you medicine.” I didn’t want conflict with her, but she blocked my way: “Hey, you’re usually so quiet, but today you dared to ram me with your head?” Morgan was angry about my resistance today. I looked up, meeting her eyes directly: “I’m not afraid of you anymore.” In my past life I feared her, endured her bullying without telling anyone, because I didn’t want to cause trouble for the Wilson family. Morgan sneered: “Is that so?” She handed me the medicine: “I’m done teasing you. Here.” I reached for the medicine, but in the next moment, Morgan suddenly grabbed my hand and dragged it across her own face, falling to the ground pitifully: “Lily, I kindly brought your medicine back to improve our relationship. Why did you hit me?” Absurd. I didn’t understand why she did this and was about to leave when I suddenly saw Ethan’s disappointed gaze.

“Lily!” Ethan stood at the bathroom door, fists clenched: “You’re angry at me—why hurt someone else?” I panicked, finally understanding I’d been set up by Morgan. “Ethan, is this who I am in your eyes?” Being wrongly accused by others, I felt nothing. Being misunderstood by him, my heart felt like it was being cut. Yet I didn’t even have the right to blame him. I walked past him. He grabbed my wrist: “Illness isn’t an excuse for immunity. Apologize to Morgan.” His grip was strong. I couldn’t break free, my heart covered in grievance: “She slandered me. Why do you only believe her and not me?” “Whether it’s slander, you know in your heart!” Ethan’s voice was warm with anger. “Besides me, no one will indulge you!” He turned his head. On his fair neck remained the scratches from our previous argument, confirming the evidence that I liked to scratch people. Reminding me of the past life’s Ethan, who would always hold me tightly during my episodes, constantly apologizing, saying he hadn’t taken good care of me. Yet I would frantically drag my sharp nails across his face, again and again. Outsiders all laughed that Professor Wilson was henpecked, married to a fierce wife. But he never spoke a bad word about me to outsiders. “I won’t apologize.” I could apologize to Ethan, even kneel and kowtow. But I wouldn’t apologize to Morgan. Ethan gritted his teeth: “Fine, you asked for this.” He restrained both my hands behind my back: “Morgan, however many times she hit you, you pay back tenfold.” Boom! Prolonged ringing made my consciousness hazy. I looked at the boy before me in shock. His expression was serious, not joking at all. Until Morgan’s slaps fell like sudden rain. One, two… “Ah!” The burning pain on my face and the humiliation of being slapped left me breathless. Morgan hit even harder. After ten slaps, Ethan didn’t give me another glance. He tenderly took Morgan’s hand: “Does your hand hurt?” Morgan smiled and linked arms with him: “It doesn’t hurt.” “That’s good.” I stood there for a long time before forcing my injured mouth into a smile: Ethan, you didn’t need to restrain me. Because I wouldn’t have fought back. After school that day, Ethan and I went home separately. Uncle Wilson anxiously watched at the door. Seeing me finally return with injuries on my face, he criticized Ethan: “What dinner? You didn’t even notice your sister was being bullied?” Aunt Wilson asked with concern: “Lily, did you fight with your brother? Why haven’t you been coming home together these past few days? Is someone bullying you at school?” Ethan said coldly: “She had an episode and hit herself. She’s so fierce—who would dare bully her?” “Kneel down!” Uncle Wilson was furious. “I told you to take good care of your sister. Is this how you take care of her?” Ethan threw down his chopsticks and walked to the living room to kneel: “She doesn’t need me. Stop being presumptuous!” He rarely defied his elders like this. It made Uncle Wilson raise his hand to slap him. I spoke up to stop him: “Brother’s right. I hit myself. I’m tired and want to go upstairs to rest.” Hearing this, Ethan’s bowed head lifted, his gaze complex as he looked at me. Aunt Wilson sighed: “Ethan, you know Lily’s condition. When there are conflicts, you need to accommodate her more.” “Haven’t I accommodated her enough? Can’t she feel sorry for me even once?” Uncle Wilson said helplessly: “Stubborn boy! If you don’t treasure your time with Lily now, you’ll regret it eventually! Do you know she’ll soon…” “Uncle Wilson!” I stood at the stairs, interrupting him. Uncle Wilson held it in uncomfortably, but ultimately didn’t tell Ethan I was leaving. But how smart was Ethan? That night, he came into my bedroom carrying hot milk. This had been his habit for ten years—heating me a cup of milk before bed. But since we started our cold war, I hadn’t drunk hot milk. “Lily, you’re hiding something from me.” A declarative sentence. My tone was stiff as I turned away: “No.” He turned my face back, leaning close: “How long are you going to keep this up with me? You think I felt good treating you like that today?” His intimate breath brushed my face. I blushed and dodged: “I need to sleep.” Ethan’s throat moved. After looking around, his gaze landed precisely on a suitcase. He walked over. I panicked—inside that suitcase were all my documents for going abroad! I grabbed his hand. Ethan’s face darkened as he met my eyes: “Move.” I knew if he was determined to look, I couldn’t stop him. Fortunately, Morgan’s voice came from downstairs: “Ethan! Ethan!” Without thinking, he turned and left.

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In the third year of our long-distance relationship, I stumbled upon Ethan’s alternate account. In his post, he shared a story about being saved during his youth. At the end, he asked in distress: [What should I do if I can’t forget my first love? It’s seriously affecting my feelings for my girlfriend.] The comments section had criticism and mockery. Some offered advice too. One comment said: [Sleep with your first love once, and you’ll realize she’s nothing special.] Ethan didn’t reply, but he liked the comment. 0 When I received Ethan’s message. My mind was still stuck on the post I’d just seen. My heart felt like it was blocked by a stone, heavy and suffocating. Ethan sent me several photos. “Had a team dinner today, happened to come to that trendy restaurant you mentioned before.” “The food’s pretty good. I’ll bring you here next time.” Coming back to my senses, I called Ethan. His voice carried a smile. “Serena? What’s up?” “There’s a long weekend coming up. Are you coming back?” Ethan hesitated for a few seconds. “I have work commitments this holiday. I won’t be able to keep you company.” My heart sank a little more. I changed the subject. “Who are you having dinner with?” He paused on the other end. “Company employees, three or four people.” The dishes in the photos looked exquisite and delicious. The portions weren’t much—not enough for one person to finish, but too little if there were many people. Just right for two. I asked jokingly, “Is that enough food? You’re not on a date with someone else, are you?” Ethan sounded a bit helpless. Even without seeing him, I could imagine him frowning. “What are you overthinking now?” “Do you need me to put someone on the phone to prove it to you?” Long-distance relationships severely lack security. Over these years, no matter how much I checked up on him, I never involved other people. As long as Ethan said something, I believed him. But this time was different. I picked up my cold tea and took a sip. “Sure.” The phone went silent. A light, cheerful female voice came through, growing closer. “Ethan, I won a couples bracelet in the lucky draw. Help me put it on.” Ethan coughed uncomfortably, his words coming fast and urgent. “Didn’t you want to go to the beach? You can go with friends. I’ll reimburse you.” “I’ve got something to deal with here. I’ll contact you later.” The implication was clear. He wasn’t coming back, and he didn’t want me to visit him either. Ethan had always been generous with me. Almost as soon as he hung up, he transferred money to me. I stared at the dark screen for a while. Suddenly I remembered that when I saw restaurant recommendations recently, one mentioned giving a mystery box gift for good reviews. My fingers moved, opening a review app. The latest review was from ten minutes ago. [My boyfriend took time out of his busy schedule to bring me here! Love it.] The photos matched the ones Ethan sent me exactly. The last picture. It was a girl’s selfie, smiling brightly, intimately holding onto an arm. I couldn’t sleep that night. Following that review’s user ID, I found her account on another social platform. There wasn’t much content, but the contrast was stark. In the past, everything was full of complaints. Rent was too expensive, neighbors too noisy, working part-time was exhausting, her boss was always picking on her. In the photos she posted, you could vaguely see peeling, moldy walls in her place. Crumpled dresses piled on a worn-out sofa. Until a month ago. She moved into a high-end apartment, spacious and bright, elegant and grand. Her closet was filled with all kinds of clothes, plus several expensive handbags. The boxed lunches from before became various Japanese cuisine, Western food, and specialty restaurants. In the scattered comments, someone asked if she’d struck it rich. [I ran into a neighbor boy from before. He’s doing really well now.] [Wow! A reunion romance with a younger guy?] She replied with a shy emoji. As dawn approached, I booked a ticket on the earliest flight. 0

In the departure lounge. My best friend called, her tone dejected. “What do you think someone’s doing when they don’t reply to messages? Are there still people who don’t check their phones all day?” I looked at my chat window with Ethan. The screen full of green bubbles, occasionally getting a few words in response. I thought for a moment and said, “People have a desire to share. If they’re not sharing with you, they’re sharing with someone else.” “If he can resist contacting you, it means you’re not that important.” The airport announcement happened to come on. My friend asked where I was going. I told her the truth. Her emotions came and went quickly, her tone teasing. “You and Ethan are so far apart, north and south, and you still want to stick together during a two-day weekend. I’m kind of jealous.” I opened my mouth. My explanation turned into a lie. “I’m not going to see him. It’s a last-minute business trip.” From freshman year until now, a full seven years. This relationship took up a huge part of my life. Even at this moment, I was still covering for Ethan. Even trying to convince myself. Attributing all suspicions to coincidence. I’d been to Ethan’s place many times. But this time I stood at the door for a long while before entering the passcode. Very subtle changes, but I noticed them at a glance. There was a small succulent on the balcony, a blanket on the sofa. The refrigerator that was always empty whenever I visited was now filled with vegetables and fruit. Plus several boxes of yogurt in different flavors. I sat in the lounge chair on the balcony, scrolling through chat records with Ethan. They seemed endlessly long. In my heart, the process of falling in love was extremely precious. In our second year together, my phone mysteriously went black. After getting it fixed, I discovered that more than half our chat history was gone. I tried many methods but couldn’t recover it. I was so sad and heartbroken. Ethan held me and comforted me for a long time. “If it’s lost, forget about it. We see each other every day anyway, and we’ll always be together in the future.” That’s what he said. But from that day on, he sent hundreds of messages daily, as if to make up for what was lost. Later, when I got a new phone, the first thing I did was back up our chat history. Back then, every line was filled with obvious love. From far away, it gradually, bit by bit, became shallow. All those overlooked things suddenly surged into my heart. Ethan’s initial active updates, squeezing out time during busy moments to video call. His endless sharing turned into “I’m busy,” “in a meeting,” “eating,” “sleeping.” Perfunctory. Mechanical. Recently, our contact had been sparse. The waiting time felt exceptionally long. Two hours later. Sounds came from the entrance. The curtains were half-drawn. I didn’t make a sound, quietly watching the two people entering. Ethan was carrying several shopping bags, bending down to change his shoes. The girl kicked off her shoes carelessly and jumped onto his back. “I’m exhausted from shopping all morning. My legs are so sore. Help me massage them.” Ethan held one hand behind him, steadily setting her down on the sofa. The motion was so natural, as if he’d done it many times. “You’re the one who wanted to go shopping, and you’re the one complaining about being tired.” He sat down next to her. “Where does it hurt?” The girl raised her hand and pointed, smiling as she placed her feet on Ethan’s lap. Her skirt rode up. Ethan lowered his head, gently kneading and pressing. He’d ask from time to time if it hurt, his expression full of affection. The silver bracelet on his wrist gleamed painfully bright. “I don’t want to go home today. Will you let me stay?” From my angle, I could see the fondness and attachment in the girl’s eyes. The ambiguous atmosphere gradually fermented. Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his lips parting slightly. I finally couldn’t help but speak. “Ethan.” 0

Time seemed to freeze. The girl looked over in shock, meeting my gaze without any evasion. Ethan stiffly turned around slowly, forcing out a smile. “Serena, how did you get here?” After saying it, he probably realized his tone was stiff and softened a bit. “Why didn’t you tell me in advance? I would have picked you up.” I didn’t say anything. The atmosphere became somewhat awkward for a moment. Ethan walked over, grabbing my hand to explain. “Don’t misunderstand. This is Tara. She helped me pick out gifts for business partners today.” I smiled. “Being a boss isn’t easy for you. You even have to give your employees massages.” Ethan looked at my expression, maintaining surface composure as he told Tara to leave. “Thank you for today. You can go home now.” Tara bit her lip, her tone dejected. “Alright, Mr. Miller. I won’t disturb you two then.” Only the two of us remained in the room. Ethan crouched in front of me, his words sincere. “Tara’s used to being casual. I forgot myself for a moment. Even if you hadn’t come today, I wouldn’t have let her stay.” I stared at him for a few seconds. “I’m a bit hungry.” Ethan exhaled, relaxing considerably. He ruffled my hair. “Then I’ll take you to eat. What do you want?” “Hot pot.” When we reached the entrance, Ethan’s footsteps suddenly stopped. “Let me change clothes. Can you wait a moment?” I nodded. Ethan quickly walked into the master bedroom. Click—a soft sound as the door locked from inside. I suddenly realized that changing clothes might just be an excuse. There was probably something he needed to hide that he didn’t want me to see. Twenty minutes later. Ethan came out changed, the bracelet on his wrist gone. He was as considerate as ever. The dishes he ordered were all my favorites, and the sauce he mixed for me suited my taste perfectly. Ethan barely ate, several times probing my intentions for coming. He thought my sudden appearance was due to distrust. What used to be a pleasant surprise was now suspicion. “We’ve been together for so many years. Do you really think I’m that unreliable?” Seeing my silence, his patience ran out. “Serena, I think we need a different way of getting along.” “Like when we’re apart, we can be like friends. That way everyone will be more relaxed.” I heard this less than an hour after we met. After staying up all night and traveling over two thousand kilometers. Actually, I was very tired, physically and mentally exhausted. Ethan said the daily check-ins and video calls made him feel very tired. The occasional missed contact, the screen full of messages and missed calls made him feel oppressed. He even felt love was being worn away bit by bit. “Serena, I love you. I want to marry you and start a family. Life is still long. Can’t we save our love for later?” Ethan’s gaze was very calm. A kind of helpless yet unavoidable weariness. It made me feel like my love was a burden, that even loving him was wrong. “Okay.” Ethan didn’t react. I looked into his eyes and repeated, “I think what you said makes sense.” Just like that, we seemed to reach some kind of consensus. But I knew clearly this relationship should end. That night, I made up a random excuse to sleep in the guest room. Ethan didn’t ask much. At the crack of dawn, I was woken by some commotion. Opening the door, Ethan was on the phone in the living room. “Don’t be nervous. We’ll see each other soon.” “If you’re not used to wearing heels, you can hold them and change at the hotel.” In a suit and tie, refined and elegant. Hearing the noise, he hung up. “Did I wake you?” “A friend’s getting married today. I’m a groomsman, so I need to head over early.” An unexpected kiss landed on my forehead. “Get some more sleep. I’ll come back to keep you company once things are done there.” 0

“I’ll go with you. Soak up some wedding joy.” Ethan froze, his expression somewhat unnatural. I lowered my eyes, adjusting his tie. “Not convenient? Or do you not want people to know you have a girlfriend?” Ethan sighed, probably thinking I was being unreasonable again. “I might not have time to keep you company. You don’t know any of those people. I’m afraid you’ll be uncomfortable.” “It’s fine. Do your thing, don’t worry about me.” We didn’t speak the whole way. Ethan drove, lips pressed tight, fingers constantly tapping the steering wheel. This was his tell when he was irritated. The groom’s house wasn’t far. I waited in the car. Close to the bride pickup time, a group of people came out from the stairwell. Ethan walked at the back, typing on his phone. He handed me a warm breakfast. “It’ll take some time at the bride’s house. You can take a nap in the car.” I acknowledged and said nothing more. The bride’s house was on the tenth floor. I didn’t take the elevator, slowly climbing the stairs. The main door was wide open, decorated with festive red double happiness characters. You could hear the commotion inside even from the hallway. “Today’s three pairs of groomsmen and bridesmaids are all couples. The final game is a passionate three-minute kiss, or you’re not taking the bride!” I could faintly hear Ethan’s voice. “Tara and I aren’t what you think. Can I drink instead? You decide how many glasses.” The jeering continued nonstop. “What do you mean ‘what we think’? Is Mr. Miller shy?” “Last time I went to your office, I personally saw her coming out of your lounge wearing your shirt.” “What’s embarrassing about kissing your own girlfriend? Hurry up, don’t delay the auspicious time!” Standing in the corner. Watching the person I’d been with for seven years being pushed together to kiss someone else. Every long-distance meeting was especially precious. We just wanted to be together, even doing nothing felt happy. Only now did I realize belatedly that distance doesn’t just divide feelings and hearts. It divides lives too. Without me noticing, I’d already been excluded. When Ethan got in the car, there was still a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth. I pretended not to see it. After arriving at the hotel, he arranged a seat for me then hurried away. I’d also fantasized about wedding scenes. It seemed we were just one step away from school uniforms to wedding dresses. Many people asked me, when will you and Ethan end the long-distance? You’ve been together seven years, time to get married, right? I always instinctively made excuses for Ethan. No rush, too busy, waiting until things are more stable. Pulled from my thoughts, on stage it had already reached the bouquet toss. The blue bouquet had several white ribbons hanging from the bottom. When Ethan caught it, even he looked surprised for a moment. Everyone shouted for him to propose to Tara. Ethan instinctively looked at me, unconsciously taking a step forward. Tara tugged his sleeve, her face full of pleading. Just a few seconds. Ethan turned and gave the bouquet to Tara. The moment he turned his back, I got up and left the hotel. I had to admit, people do change. We’re all rushing along our paths. Spending a lifetime together is luck; drifting apart is the norm. Distraction and detachment in a relationship don’t deserve forgiveness. Not even for a second.

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My best friend Sophia’s pregnant with my husband Ethan’s child. She’s already three months along. Meanwhile, I’ve just been beaten by him until I miscarried, now lying in a hospital bed. Ethan told me that as long as I accept it, Sophia’s child can call me Mom. I smiled and nodded, then turned around and married the most dangerous man in River City. Everything they’ve inflicted on me—I’ll make them pay back tenfold, a hundredfold. My best friend Sophia posted on Ins that she’d decided to put herself up for sale tonight, going back to that life. Cassandra panicked and rushed to the Blue Baron, determined to pull Sophia out of that hellhole again. When she hurried over, she saw a room full of familiar faces outside the private room door. Including her husband of three years since their remarriage—Ethan. He was gripping Sophia’s arm, demanding answers. “Sophia, you’ve got some nerve coming here! Isn’t the money I give you enough? Why would you degrade yourself like this!” In an instant, Sophia’s eyes turned red. “Ethan, I told you I don’t want you involved. Can’t you understand that?” “I don’t want to be entangled with you anymore. I don’t want to be the other woman! I don’t want to hurt Cassie anymore!” She trembled as she cried. Ethan forcibly pulled her into his arms. “It’s my fault for putting so much pressure on you.” He looked down at her, his usually cold eyes now filled with deep affection. “Let’s tell her the truth, okay?” “No! I won’t!” Sophia pushed him away violently, shaking her head in panic. “Please stop trying to take care of me. I can’t hurt Cassie! Just go!” Ethan stared at her. “Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll leave!” She looked up, her voice firm. “Ethan, listen carefully. I don’t love you anymore. Not at all—mmph.” The next second, the man pulled her forcefully into his embrace, dominating her lips with a kiss. Sophia cried while trying to push him away, but she couldn’t. Gradually, she stopped struggling and kissed him back even more intensely. When the kiss ended, Sophia leaned against him, gasping for breath. A friend nearby spoke up. “Sophia, Ethan loves you so much. Can’t you feel it?” “Three years ago, you said you were afraid of hurting Cassandra and insisted on breaking it off with Ethan. If he hadn’t stood outside your building all night a year ago, you probably wouldn’t even agree to see him again!” “Ethan loves you so much. If you keep degrading yourself in places like this, he’ll go crazy.” “Listen to Ethan. Tell her the truth. Cassandra’s pregnant anyway—she can’t leave Ethan! At worst, Cassie can be the first wife and you the second. You two sisters serving one husband—what’s wrong with that?” Sophia refused. “No, don’t tell her. Ethan, I’ll do what you say. I’ll stay by your side and stop degrading myself.” Ethan looked down, gently wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. “You’ve suffered so much, Sophia.” Outside the private room. Watching this scene, Cassandra felt like someone was choking her throat. She even forgot how to breathe. In the dazzling lights, she remembered her past with Ethan. She and Ethan were neighbors, from age five to thirty. Ethan had protected her for a full twenty-five years. The Wilde and Hart families were well-matched. They’d had an engagement since childhood. Ethan was dark and rarely smiled, but he gave all his tenderness and favoritism to Cassandra. She loved eating scrambled eggs with locust flowers. Every season, the germaphobic Ethan would personally climb trees to pick them for her. She loved dancing. He hated it, but still learned for a whole month before her birthday ball, just to dance the first dance with her. When she was bullied, he could appear out of nowhere, fight five people at once, and shield her behind him so she wouldn’t get hurt. Sophia was a poor student she’d met in her junior year of high school. Her parents worked away from home year-round. She lived with her elderly grandmother. Even her tuition depended on school aid, and she barely scraped by for three meals a day. Cassandra felt sorry for her and took the initiative to befriend her, bringing her into her social circle. Later they became good friends. Ethan’s attitude toward Sophia also changed from initial distance to eventually sharing his favoritism with her for Cassandra’s sake. After college graduation, when Sophia was about to sell her body for money, it was Cassandra who rushed in to save her regardless of everything. Later she arranged work for Sophia, keeping her by Ethan’s side as his secretary. On Cassandra and Ethan’s wedding day, Sophia held the train of the wedding dress and cried her heart out. But in the first year after marriage, Ethan cheated. Cassandra didn’t know who the woman was. When she arrived, Ethan had locked that woman in a room. No matter how hysterical she became, he refused to let her in. She could only break down and seek comfort from Sophia, saying she wanted a divorce. It was Sophia who convinced her to let it go since it was in the past. Later, she forgave Ethan. For the next three years, everything was calm. Ethan also treated her better and better, not daring to hurt her in the slightest. This morning, after getting the ultrasound results and learning she was pregnant, she’d wanted to tell the two most important people in her life this good news. But she never imagined that the woman Ethan cheated with three years ago was her best friend! Three years later, they were at it again! Sadness surged over her like a tide. She staggered back a few steps and accidentally knocked over a vase nearby. “Crash!” The vase shattered on the floor. The private room door was yanked open. “Who’s there!” Seeing it was her, the person froze. “Mrs. Wilde…” Everyone in the private room looked toward her. One by one, until finally, Ethan looked at her too.

“Cassie, you saw everything.” Ethan instinctively shielded Sophia behind him. “I couldn’t control myself. On our wedding night, I said something came up at the company and didn’t come home. Actually, it was because I saw Sophia crying so sadly at the wedding. I couldn’t let her go, so I went to her apartment.” “I took her three times that night. That’s why I had a hickey on my neck the next morning. I told you it was a mosquito bite, but it wasn’t.” Cassandra froze. Before she could speak, Sophia had already broken down. “Enough! Stop talking! Ethan, if you say one more word, I’ll never speak to you again!” After screaming, she turned and grabbed Cassandra’s hand, crying and trembling. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t help myself. I really didn’t want to hurt you!” Cassandra could no longer suppress her anger and slapped her across the face. “Why would you do this to me! I treated you as my best friend! I gave you everything, and you even had to steal my husband! Why!” “Cassie, we truly love each other… We just can’t control it…” As soon as she finished speaking, Cassandra slapped her again. “You truly love each other? Then what do these ten-plus years between him and me mean!” This slap was harder. Sophia fell to the ground. Ethan rushed forward and shoved Cassandra aside. “Enough, Cassie. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Sophia’s health isn’t good. Don’t touch her again.” Cassandra fell to the ground, sharp pains shooting through her lower abdomen. But he turned to pick Sophia up. “Sophia, are you okay?” “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Go check on Cassie!” “Why do you still push me toward her at a time like this! You’ve yielded for so many years. Don’t push me away again!” Watching the boy who had once protected her growing up now protecting someone else. Cassandra finally understood everything. Actually, all the signs had been there. Later, when he made locust flower cakes, there was always a portion for Sophia. He remembered she liked sweet things and would add extra sugar. When going out shopping, he knew Sophia got cold easily and always kept a jacket in his bag. He said it was for Cassandra, but she never wore it because she was afraid of heat, not cold. That jacket was always on Sophia. She loved steak. Sophia didn’t. So every time they went to a Western restaurant, Ethan would arrange for someone to bring Chinese food specifically for Sophia to enjoy alone. Sometimes Cassandra would get jealous. He’d just pinch her cheek. “Silly girl, they say your best friend is like a second mother-in-law. If I want to marry you, don’t I have to win her over?” Cassandra had believed him. Now she realized she’d been a fool. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No need to keep pushing each other away. Since you truly love each other, Ethan, I’ll fulfill your wishes. Let’s divorce.” “Cassie, I love you too. You know I won’t divorce you.” Ethan grabbed her arm, his eyes cold, his tone even colder. “As long as you apologize to Sophia, I’ll forgive what you did today. Sophia has depression. She can’t handle stress. If you don’t forgive her, she’ll do something to hurt herself again tonight!” “I should apologize?” Cassandra laughed. “She stole my husband, and you want me to apologize to her?” “Ethan, she’s the mistress. I will absolutely never apologize to a mistress!” Hearing the words “the mistress,” Sophia suddenly pushed Ethan away and grabbed a bottle from the table, smashing it hard against her own head. “I’m the mistress! I was wrong! I shouldn’t have been the mistress! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Bright red blood flowed from her forehead, but she didn’t stop. She grabbed another bottle and continued smashing it against herself. “Cassie, I was wrong, Cassie! Please forgive me.” Again and again, her forehead became a bloody mess. Ethan grabbed her hand, his eyes full of heartache. “Stop! Sophia, stop! You’re not the mistress. You’re not! I love you, so you’re not!” This statement dealt Cassandra a fatal blow. She never imagined that the Ethan who had announced at his eighteenth birthday coming-of-age ceremony in front of everyone that he would marry Cassandra when he grew up. Now said he loved her best friend Sophia. Seeing this scene, their friends couldn’t help but speak up. “Cassie, things have already come to this point. Why don’t you just let them be together?” “Yeah, we’ve brought up divorce before, but they both refused. They didn’t want to hurt you.” “Aren’t you two best friends? Can you bear to see Sophia suffer like this? She’s been wronged for three years too, forcing herself into depression.” Their friends looked at Cassandra with indignation, as if she were the only culprit behind everything. “Since you all think this way, I have nothing to say.” She turned to leave, but Ethan immediately had someone block her path. “Stop! You think you can just walk away after doing this to Sophia?” Cassandra bit her lip, tears blurring her vision. “Then what do you want?”

“Sophia smashed herself four times. I want you to pay back tenfold.” Ethan carried Sophia out of the private room. She trembled in his arms. “Do it. Forty bottles. Not one less.” Leaving those words, he walked away without looking back. Sophia tried to say something. “Don’t do this… Ethan…” “Don’t plead for her anymore. Otherwise, I’ll make it a hundredfold.” Hearing this, Cassandra couldn’t help but laugh. But as she laughed, she started crying. The man who’d sworn to protect her for life now wanted to hurt her! Seeing her cry, their friends didn’t comfort her. They all left one by one. Only she and two bodyguards remained in the private room. The bodyguards looked at each other, reluctant to act. Cassandra knew Ethan too well. Whatever he decided, no one could change. If she didn’t finish these forty bottles today, she wouldn’t be able to leave the Blue Baron. So she accepted her fate. “Do it.” “We’re sorry, Mrs. Wilde.” After apologizing, the bodyguard picked up an empty bottle and smashed it hard against Cassandra’s head. “Bang!” The glass bottle exploded, shards cutting her face. The second time, her head was bleeding! The third time, shards pierced into her scalp, the pain multiplying! The fourth, the fifth… After being hit countless times, she could no longer feel the pain. But something seemed to be flowing down her thighs. She looked down in a daze and saw blood. In that moment, she didn’t feel sad. She only felt relieved. The bodyguard quickly stopped and called Ethan in panic. “Mr. Wilde, Mrs. Wilde, she—” “Begging for mercy? Tell her—forty times, not one less! I’m with Sophia at the doctor right now. Don’t call me again!” The call was cut off. The bodyguard froze. Just as he was hesitating whether to continue, the woman in front of him collapsed to the ground like a broken doll. “Mrs. Wilde!” When Cassandra woke up, the first thing she felt was pain from her forehead. Everything else seemed not to hurt anymore. The doctor was checking her IV drip. “Mrs. Wilde, you’re awake? Don’t be too sad. You can have another child.” Cassandra didn’t answer. Her dark eyes shifted around. The doctor thought she was looking for Ethan and quickly explained, “Mr. Wilde will be here soon. We’ve already told him about your situation.” “How long have I been at the hospital?” “About six hours.” Six hours? Ethan hadn’t come. In his heart, she wasn’t that important at all. Cassandra’s nose stung, but she held back her tears. The hospital room door opened. Ethan walked in. The doctor left, thoughtfully closing the door behind him. Seeing the injuries on Cassandra’s forehead and her pale face, Ethan’s heart ached. He choked up. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” “I wanted to tell you this morning. Didn’t get the chance before you beat the child out of me.” Cassandra’s tone was flat, as if talking about something unrelated to herself. “Now it’s fine. No need to say it anymore. The baby’s gone anyway.” “Cassie!” Ethan reached out to hold her, his voice still gentle. “If I’d known you were pregnant, I wouldn’t have done that to you!” “You saw it yourself. Sophia really is sick. I’ve thought about not dealing with her. But all these years she’s been between us. I can’t ignore her. You understand, right?” “She’s always loved me silently without asking for anything in return. Her life was hard enough before. I don’t want her to suffer. You’re her good friend. You should understand!” Cassandra had miscarried. The child was beaten out of her by Ethan. He came to the hospital to see her, yet every word was about how much he felt for another woman. Cassandra should have felt pain. But perhaps because this was her second time being betrayed, she didn’t feel any pain at all. “I know. I understand.” She pushed him away and asked softly, “How is she? Is she okay?” “You still care about her? Does that mean you accept her?” The hope in his eyes pierced her heart, but Cassandra still nodded. “Yes. You’re right. She’s sick. You should be with her.” She turned away, giving him only her back. “I’m tired. Go be with her.” “Cassie, you’re so wonderful! My love for you isn’t wasted. I’ll go tell Sophia. She’ll be so happy!” Ethan walked toward the door. When he reached it, he left one more sentence. “Oh, Cassie, don’t be too upset about not having a child. Sophia’s pregnant too, already three months along. She said as long as you accept it, her child will be your child.” He left. The hospital room door closed. Inside was deathly silent. Learning that Sophia was pregnant with Ethan’s child, Cassandra thought she would be shocked, heartbroken. But her heart was already like stagnant water, feeling nothing. She picked up her phone and called her lawyer. “The divorce papers I left with you three years ago can take effect now.”

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When my online gaming boyfriend found out I scored a 1590 on the SATs, he dumped me. “With grades like that, going into a STEM major? She’s probably a literal ogre.” He snickered, mocking my looks to his frat brothers, forgetting his mic was still hot. A second later, our teammate lifted his rifle and gunned him down. “Talk trash to a junior from my department, consider yourself unlucky.” Fast forward to the start of the semester. I stared at the 6-foot-2, drop-dead gorgeous guy standing in front of me, completely speechless. Bro, with a face like that, calling someone else a scumbag… isn’t that a bit hypocritical? After the SAT scores were released, I pulled an all-nighter gaming. My parents were too busy calling every relative we knew to brag, so they left me alone. By the time morning rolled around and I got a call from Mason, my voice was completely hoarse. He cut straight to the chase: “Riley, let’s break up.” Mason and I had met randomly in an online lobby. He was a painfully average player but had a lot of money—a total pay-to-win whale. Plus, he was a smooth talker. The night after the SATs, he asked me out, and we made it official. I didn’t expect it to crash and burn in less than a month. “Okay,” I agreed, not bothering to cling to him. We hadn’t even met IRL yet. I just treated it like my Tamagotchi had died. Mason seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “We can still game together, right?” I said sure. Right after we finished a match, Mason changed his profile picture. I didn’t think much of it and was about to log off. Suddenly, an unfamiliar, teasing voice came through the headset: “Yo, Mason, what’s with the new PFP? You break up?” Mason’s mic was still open. Before I could warn him, I heard him scoff: “Obviously! Do you know she scored a 1590 on her SATs? And she’s going to Stanford for Computer Science!” “With grades like that, doing a STEM major? She’s probably a literal ogre. If I didn’t dump her before we met IRL, I’d probably die of fright.” The other guys in our squad went dead silent. Mason sounded confused: “Hey, why aren’t you guys moving—” Bang! Bang! Bang! The God-tier player on our squad suddenly fired three consecutive shots, blowing Mason’s head off in-game. Mason instantly raged: “Are you insane?! Why the hell did you team-kill me—” His voice abruptly cut off. He finally realized his mic had been hot the whole time. A lazy, nonchalant voice drifted through the headset. “Talk trash to a junior from my department, consider yourself unlucky.” Wait, what??? This teammate almost never used voice chat, but his skills were absolutely insane. In my head, he was always the cold, untouchable pro. Who would have thought the first time he ever spoke, it would be to defend me? Right then, my phone started buzzing like crazy. It was my best friend, Chloe. I exited the lobby and picked up, instantly bombarded by her frantic screaming. “Riley Evans! You! Are a literal god!” “You got a 1590! You’re valedictorian! You have to carry me through life now, ahhhhh!” I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Stop yelling. Your girl just got dumped.” Chloe: “?” I gave her the rundown of what just happened. “He probably thought I was ugly.” Chloe was furious: “??? Is he clinically insane? If the Prom Queen of West High is an ogre, what the hell are the rest of us?!” “Whatever.” I didn’t want to waste energy on him. Thinking back to what that God-tier teammate had said, I sent him a private message: “Hey, senior? Thanks for today! Can I get your number? I’ll treat you to food when the semester starts!” A minute later, the aloof senior blessed me with a single word: “Sure.” Getting publicly executed by a teammate completely destroyed Mason’s ego, and he rage-quit the lobby immediately. But that night, Mason sent me a message. “Log on. Let’s run it again.” It seemed he was determined to win his pride back. Talk about a bruised ego. I glanced at his new teammate. “This gamer tag looks familiar.” A lazy voice drifted through my headset: “He’s a paid pro-carry.” I jumped slightly, rubbing my ear in surprise. This guy… we had played together for so long, and he barely ever typed a word. But ever since he stood up for me, he seemed too lazy to type and just exclusively used voice comms. I wasn’t quite used to it yet. Looking at the expensive new gear Mason had equipped, I felt a bit nervous. “Can we win?” He was dead set on making a comeback, spending real cash to buy a victory. The senior asked lazily, “Do you want to beat him?” I didn’t hesitate: “Duh!” So what if he’s a trust fund whale? I heard a low chuckle. “Alright.” Nine minutes later, Mason and his expensive pro-carry both got sniped in the head. Mason screamed an obscenity over the mic and instantly logged off. I sat in deep thought for a long time before finally texting the senior: “Senior, if I go to Stanford for CS, will I become as cracked at this game as you?” “…Not necessarily.” The senior graciously typed a few extra words for me. “Depends on your raw talent.” Ah. I understood. “Well, I’m covering your breakfast for a month!” He went back to his aloof self and didn’t reply. After the scores were finalized, my life became a blur. Doing college prep interviews, picking dorms, getting my driver’s license… I was so busy I barely touched the game for over a month. Out of nowhere, Mason messaged me. “Riley, we had an amicable breakup. You don’t have to literally quit the game just to avoid me, you know.” Me: ??? What kind of delusional nonsense was he typing? When I finally logged into my neglected account, I realized the rumors were already flying. Several of my regular squadmates instantly spammed me. “Riley! You’re finally back!” “It’s just a breakup! It’s not the end of the world!” “Guys like Mason who only care about looks are shallow anyway! Good riddance!” I was totally lost. “No, I’ve just been super busy lately.” But no matter how much I explained, nobody believed me. After a few minutes of confusion, I finally figured out why—Mason had a new girlfriend. “That low-level account he’s carrying around is his new girl. I heard her PFP is actually her, a broadcast journalism major.” I spectated them for a bit and cringed. She was painfully bad. Even with his pay-to-win items, it was agonizing to watch. Hats off to Mason for having the patience to peacefully coax and carry her. To bleach my eyes, I grouped up with the senior. Sometimes he seemed incredibly busy, and other times he seemed like he had nothing but free time. I was very blunt about my needs: “Senior, my eyes are bleeding. Mind flexing some plays to cleanse my vision?” Five minutes later, we loaded into a match and absolutely decimated the enemy team. I felt so much better. I was perfectly satisfied, but right as I was about to log off, that deep, lazy voice echoed in my ears again. “Looks like you really liked him.” I thought I was hallucinating. “What?” He elaborated, “They all said you cried so hard you lost your voice the day he dumped you.” Me: “…” “But now he’s got someone new, and they look pretty happy. You should let it go. Crying over a jerk like that isn’t worth it.” Me: “…” This was absurd. I kept my face deadpan. “Why would I be hung up on him? Stanford has a massive ratio of guys to girls in the CS department. You think I’ll have a shortage of options?” Senior: “…” Realizing that might have sounded a bit arrogant, I corrected myself: “Actually, let’s not be too greedy. I just want the most handsome one!” The line was quiet for a long moment before a low chuckle broke the silence. “You’ve got some high ambitions.” Late August rolled around, and I dragged my suitcase onto campus for freshman move-in day. The California sun was relentless. There wasn’t a single breeze. I pulled my baseball cap lower and kept walking. Stanford was great and all, but the campus was so massive I felt like I was walking halfway to my grave. Suddenly, a guy jogged over from nearby. “Hey, freshman? Are you an English major?” I looked up, and he froze for a second, his ears rapidly turning red. “Thanks, but I’m in the Computer Science department. Do you know where their check-in booths are?” His eyes widened in shock. It took me asking a second time for him to snap out of it. “Oh! Just go straight down this path and take a left at the end. That suitcase looks heavy, want me to walk you there?” I politely declined and kept walking until I finally found the spot. A few guys were slouched lazily in folding chairs under the canopy. When they saw me stop, one of them let out a low whistle. “Hey, freshman, you looking for Liam too? Tough luck, he just stepped out to the advisor’s office. Come back later.” Liam? Who? “No.” I handed over my ID. “I’m here to check in.” The guys slouched under the tent all whipped their heads around in absolute shock. “Holy shit?!” As soon as I got settled into my dorm, I got a text from Chloe. “Rileyyyy I miss you so much waaaaah! Thinking about not seeing you every day is breaking my heart!” “Chloe, just to remind you, your college is literally across the bay.” “I don’t care, I don’t care!” Chloe whined. “Do you know you made the Campus Confessions Instagram page on your literally first day?! Now I have a million more people trying to steal my gorgeous bestie!” Me: “…Campus Confessions?” I tapped the link she sent, and sure enough, someone had taken a candid photo of me and posted it. Emmm… At the time, I was dragging my suitcase, sweating like a dog under the sun. I didn’t even notice anyone taking a picture. “BRO! Are the freshmen really this gorgeous this year!?” “If I call her the Campus Queen, nobody can object, right? What major? English?” “Drop the Insta handle! I am begging!” “Give up, guys, she’s a CS major! How the hell did those nerds get so lucky! FML!” “??? No way? The CS department already has Liam Wright, how did they pull someone of this tier too? They get the absolute hottest guy AND girl on campus? Where is the justice?” Liam Wright? That must be the Liam those guys mentioned at the booth. Seems like he’s pretty popular. Oh right, I almost forgot to text my senior. “Senior, I checked into campus!” A little while later, he replied: “Was busy earlier, didn’t see this. You arrived?” “Yep! You go do your thing, my roommates just got here, we’re gonna go grab food.” A few minutes later, he sent a short list. “These spots near the West Gate are pretty good.” Man, having a ‘local’ is the best! So convenient. My roommates were all in different majors, but they were super nice. After introducing ourselves, we headed out. We had just sat down at a restaurant when Mason randomly sent me a photo. My heart jumped. —It was the exact candid photo from the Campus Confessions page!

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