My marriage to Elliott Wellington was a godsend for me but not for him. On our wedding night, he left me and went somewhere else. Later, I found out that the woman was none other than his ex-girlfriend, Patricia Adams. In the fourth year of our marriage, I finally made up my mind and asked for a divorce, but he pushed me against the door and roared like a madman, “Scarlett, I’m not the trash you throw away after playing with me!” This year marked the fourth year of my marriage to Elliott. In the past, I would definitely jog behind him or be at his beck and call. However, now, I found life increasingly hopeless and boring. After four years of marriage, I had been making an effort to play the role of a considerate wife in public. Elliott had been doing the same. He was seen as a rare ideal husband by my parents, an exemplary spouse by the media, and a caring president of a wealthy family by others. In short, in the eyes of outsiders, he was perfect. Therefore, after knowing that I had an argument with him, they habitually blamed me instead of him. To others, Elliott was such an exceptional husband that he was one in a million. But there was a reason they thought highly of him. I would have done the same thing six years ago. After all, that was when I fell in love with him. As a junior in college, I saw Elliott for the first time and was struck by how incredibly handsome he was. Since then, I always paid attention to him, arranging encounters while making him believe they were accidental. “Elliott, what a coincidence! Are you going to the library, too? “Elliott, you are coming to this cafeteria today, too!” … Finally, after a series of chance encounters, I exchanged contact information with Elliott. Then, I became one of the insignificant faces among his Instagram followers. How could an excellent person like him remember my appearance and name? But I didn’t give up. I sent him good morning and good night messages daily and occasionally shared interesting things that happened to me. However, Elliott was very aloof. He responded only selectively, and at times, I wouldn’t hear from him for several days. At that time, I thought I was too annoying and felt bad for a while. Until that day, I saw him kissing a girl under a tree. I later found out that she was the one that other girls on the campus confession wall envied for being with Elliott. But I was like a clown, sending him nonsense messages every day. He must find me annoying. Yesterday, instead of informing me directly, he told his secretary, Victor Hastings, that he was going to have dinner outside. I cooked a lot of delicious food and waited until dark before receiving a call from Victor. I had been married to Elliott for four years. During that time, I had nearly exhausted all my affection for him. Where he was and what he was doing now were completely unknown to me. I rarely inquired about his affairs and was unaware of most of them. If it hadn’t been for that message, I wouldn’t have even discovered that he went to his childhood sweetheart’s house on our wedding night. ​It was the same girl from college, Patricia Adams.​ However, he explained, “The company has a document that needs to be processed urgently.” At 1:30 in the morning, while lying on my bed in my bedroom, I could faintly hear the sound of raindrops falling outside. It was my first night as Elliott’s wife after our wedding. Yet, he was with another woman at that moment. I couldn’t calm down because he left with just one phone call. Feeling upset, I picked up my phone to scroll through Instagram, only to receive a text message from a number ending in “0814”. [Elliott is doing well here with me. Thank you.] These hurtful words stung my eyes and gave me a headache. But when Elliott came back the next day, I pretended to be ignorant, as if I had never received that message. “Aren’t you curious about where I went last night?” he asked while skillfully cutting the steak on his plate. Slightly startled, I smiled, “Didn’t you mention you went to the company to process a document?” He raised his eyebrows and said nothing more. I was unsure whether it was a test or a suspicion of me. I always felt that he had some secrets behind marrying me.

Lying on the soft, big bed, I recalled the four years of marriage. Despite having no feelings for me, Elliott was a good husband. After marrying him, I enjoyed a luxurious life, thanks to his position as president. I played cards and went shopping every day. My life was pretty comfortable. But I gradually lost my patience with this boring life and even attempted to escape because Elliott’s beloved wasn’t me. The bedroom door was pushed open, and a tall figure instantly loomed over the quilt. I knew Elliott was back. ​The clock ticked once and struck midnight.​ He came back early tonight. I felt the mattress dip behind me as a warm body pressed against my back. “I know you’re not asleep yet.” Elliott’s breath brushed my neck. I didn’t pivot around and said calmly, “I’m not in the mood today.” He still turned a deaf ear to my words, as domineering as ever. After we had sex, I listened to the raindrops falling outside. I pondered for a moment and said seriously, “Elliott, let’s get a divorce.” I wasn’t sure if Elliott heard me that night, but he didn’t return for the next two nights. It was normal for him not to come back home, so I didn’t dwell on it. I made an appointment with a friend to go shopping in a newly opened mall. While wandering around, we walked past Elliott’s company. It was a thirty-story building that housed many industries. As the owner of the building, Elliott had lived a high-profile “celebrity” life since his childhood. “Don’t you want to go upstairs and take a look?” I pulled my friend, feeling embarrassed. “No. Let’s continue shopping. There’s a great café up ahead.” To my surprise, I turned around and saw a very familiar figure at the front desk of the lobby on the first floor. My friend also saw her and drew me hurriedly. “Isn’t that your husband’s first love? Why is she here?” Having already decided to divorce, I was unwilling to get involved too much in Elliott’s affairs. I was about to grab my friend and leave this place. “What a coincidence!” A sweet voice sounded behind us. “Mrs. Wellington.” I sensed Patricia’s hatred from the form of address. If something hadn’t happened in her family that forced her to break up with Elliott, I wouldn’t have married him and become Mrs. Wellington. So, I could really turn a blind eye to her rude tone. “Yeah, what a coincidence,” I replied out of politeness. Patricia sized me up with burning eyes. “Would you like to go in for a cup of coffee?” She was referring to the coffee bar in the company’s lobby. I didn’t frequent it often and had only had a drink there once. However, she acted as though she were the building’s hostess, inviting me, the true hostess. My friend couldn’t help but retort, “Ms. Adams, there’s no need for coffee. After all, Mrs. Wellington and I are going to the café in front. Enjoy the free coffee in the lobby on the first floor yourself!” Before I could say anything, my friend pulled me away. “Don’t you want to know what happened between Elliott and me over the years?” Patricia’s voice kept echoing in my mind, and I was very curious about their past. “Don’t overthink. She is shameless.” In the café, my friend held my hand and comforted me. I shook my head. “I am fine. I’m just interested in what she said.” “You have to trust Elliott. The hardest part of a relationship is building mutual trust.” I had always believed in Elliott, but all I received in return were the duties of a husband and wife. As for everything else, I felt nothing. I suspected Elliott might have given Patricia some instructions, as she had the audacity to provoke me today. If he hadn’t doted on her so much, how would she have dared to confront me? After figuring it out, I became more determined to get a divorce.

I rarely saw Elliott these days. Either he returned after I had fallen asleep or left before I woke up. But I had long been accustomed to this kind of life. After getting up in the morning, I habitually made my own breakfast, browsed my phone, and laughed heartlessly. I had received plenty of provocative messages in the past few days. [Elliott will never fall in love with you.] [Elliott belongs to me alone!] And so on. I immediately knew it was Patricia trying to upset me, but she didn’t realize I had lost interest in such matters. My phone rang in the afternoon, and I answered Elliott’s call. “Let’s go to the steakhouse at Cedar Avenue tonight!” His voice on the other end of the phone was deep and magnetic. I hadn’t heard it for a long time, and I was distracted for a while. “Me and you?” I paused and asked again, “Just the two of us?” He seemed surprised by my questions and couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, I have already made a reservation.” I beamed with joy and agreed immediately, “Okay!” We could talk about divorce tonight. I was not sure if Elliott could predict the future or if it was because of something else. He stood me up. I waited in the steakhouse for half an hour, but he didn’t show up, so I took my bag and went home. Two hours later, he called me hurriedly. “I’m so sorry. I had an overseas video meeting. Are you home?” I held the phone and hesitated in silence for a while before replying, “Yeah.” In my opinion, divorce was a very serious matter and should be discussed face to face. Elliott should be back tonight. As I expected, there was a noise outside the villa at around eleven o’clock in the evening. Upstairs, I took out the divorce agreement I had prepared in advance. Elliott took off his coat while explaining inexplicably, “I’m sorry something delayed me tonight. Did you wait long?” He rarely cared about these before. “Have you had dinner yet? If not, let’s eat something together.” I felt mixed emotions, tugged at the corner of my clothes, and said, “Elliott, let’s get a divorce!” He seemed not to have heard clearly and asked, “What? “What did you say?” I replied calmly, “I said we should get divorced. You can be with your childhood sweetheart, and we should move on from each other.” It seemed that Elliott hadn’t heard me that night. He grew furious. His eyes widened instantly as he clenched his fists and growled, “Do you dare to repeat it?” I said fearlessly, “I said…” Elliott’s aggressive kiss prevented me from finishing my words. I punched his back hard until he let go of me just before I almost suffocated. I noticed his bloodshot eyes and a bit of blood at the corner of his mouth, which was from where my lip had been scratched. He wiped his lips as if removing something very filthy, then stared at me coldly and said, “Scarlett, I’m not the trash you throw away after playing with me!” Before I could say anything, the door was slammed shut. I brought up this matter in such a casual way, as simple as going to the supermarket to buy groceries. But Elliott’s reaction dissatisfied me very much! ​A divorce would allow him to be with his childhood sweetheart, would it not? If it had been someone else, they would have readily agreed to such a good thing. I believed people like Elliott should be more cunning. Despite the idea that it would be better if fewer people knew about this, I could no longer hide my excitement. I told my friend in advance. “What did you say? Do you want a divorce? “Are you going to abandon such an ideal husband? Give him to me.” I didn’t bother to explain to her how I spent the past few years. Even if I did, she certainly wouldn’t buy my story because, in her eyes, Elliott was simply perfect. “My marriage is not as good as you think,” I replied while holding the phone. My friend calmed down and advised, “But Scarlett, your marriage may not be as bad as you think! I regard Elliott as a reliable person.” I understand why she always spoke well of Elliott. During my junior year, I cried my heart out in depression because he had a girlfriend. When my friend invited me to go out and have fun, I either declined or appeared very gloomy once there. Later, I felt better. It wasn’t until my senior year that I got together with Elliott. She was the first one with whom I shared the news. I believed she genuinely wanted me to be happy after witnessing our relationship evolve into marriage over the years. Furthermore, he had taken good care of me and done nothing wrong. But it wasn’t a reason for me to compromise, right?

Several days passed. Elliott still didn’t come back, and I had no idea where he spent the night. It should be Patricia’s place. After all, she had recently sent me so many inappropriate messages to provoke me that I couldn’t even block them. She was the only one who had so much free time to upset me. Today was the day Elliott and I had scheduled for our monthly visit to his parents. In the past, we would go together, but this time, I had to go alone. After getting ready and dressed, I carried my latest bag and drove my own supercar to the Wellington Manor. It was in a serious and classic style, and there were several arches in the garden behind the gate. I walked through the front yard and saw Elliott’s grandmother, Laura Wellington, sitting in the center. “Laura, why did you come out today?” I approached her with a smile. She often gave me gifts and treated me like her own granddaughter. “Scarlett, you are here! Where’s Elliott?” “He is busy at work, so he asked me to come by myself.” I lied without hesitation. Laura hit her cane on the ground angrily. “He doesn’t care about you! How inconsiderate!” Elliott’s parents also criticized him. And so did I. Moreover, I even exaggerate the situation, hoping to destroy the good man image that Elliott had created completely. Suddenly, a deep male voice came from the door. “I do care about Scarlett!” It was Elliott?! I pivoted around and saw him. How could he say such shameless things? Wasn’t he afraid that I would record it and send it to his childhood sweetheart? I deliberately turned my eyes from him. “Elliott, you must take good care of Scarlett! After all, you chose her as your wife!” Elliott glanced over and said, “I know, Grandma. You all have seen whether I take good care of her or not!” To be honest, I couldn’t help but admire his eloquence. He kept telling his family how well he treated me, setting it up so that if we divorced in the future, the blame would undoubtedly fall on me. He was going to get me into trouble. I hurriedly grabbed Laura’s hand and complained aggrievedly, “Laura, you have to scold him for me. We had a quarrel these days, and I didn’t even know where he was!” She was very anxious. “What was going on?” “That’s not true, Grandma. We love each other. Scarlett was just joking!” He pulled me away from Laura with a fake smile. Then, he whispered in my ear, “You’d better not tell them these things. Otherwise, there will be consequences.” I rolled my eyes at him. His threat didn’t scare me. After dinner, we left the Wellington Manor. I didn’t plan to ride in the same car with Elliott. “I have something else to do. See you later!” I intended to go to the bar and have some fun with my friends. After being mostly homebound for four years of marriage, I was eager to enjoy my single life in advance. “Aren’t you going home?” Elliott watched me get into my red supercar. Home? It wasn’t home at all. Instead of replying, I started the engine directly. In an instant, a dark figure suddenly rushed into my front passenger seat. “What are you doing?” I glared at Elliott. He sized me up. “I am looking at my wife.” I was so upset by his words. “We are getting divorced. I won’t be your wife soon.” “Since we aren’t divorced, you are still my wife.” My plan was ruined by Elliott, so I had to drive back to the villa. The wind blew through the dark night, making the hair on his forehead even more disheveled. He appeared more attractive than before. As a student, he was immature and introverted, but now he exuded maturity and steadiness. Without Patricia, maybe I could really continue to live a happy life with him. “What are you thinking? The light turned green.”

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My brother brought his girlfriend home to meet our parents. However, I discovered that she underwent an abortion procedure at our hospital just last week. And my brother had been abroad for six months of study, only returning yesterday.

When my son was just five years old, the foundation of my marriage to Alex Short began to crumble because of the presence of Mona Mill and her child. Alex had once vowed that his attentiveness to Mona stemmed solely from pity since she was a single mother with a daughter. Yet, time and again, he chose Mona and her daughter over me and our son. Alex even neglected our son in favor of caring for Mona’s daughter.

On Christmas Eve, my parents took me home on the last bus. I cried loudly and insisted on leaving, so Farrell and Malinda had no choice but to take me out of the bus. The bus then had an accident that night. Farrell and Malinda were shocked.

I wanted to kill my daughter. I never believed that there were people who were born bad until my daughter was born. When she was two years old, her grandmother was feeding her and she said, “Baby, let me eat a bite of your banana.” She then poked her grandmother’s eyes with fork, and her grandmother was caught off guard and sent to the hospital. When her husband teased her by saying he would take the toy away, she simply threw the toy on the ground and crushed it, screaming as she did so. When she was four years old, her friend’s child came to our house to play. For some reason, the two children started quarreling. When we were trying to comfort them, my daughter went into the kitchen, took out a kitchen knife and threw it directly at the child, almost causing blood to splatter on the spot. She loved to see us panicking. The more we screamed, the happier she was, clapping her hands and giggling. Then she grew bigger and more terrifying. My husband said exhaustedly, “Let’s have a second child.” From the half-open door, a pair of eerie eyes stared at us.

The night before the engagement, my fiancé, Max Chase, sought to prove his devotion to Lilian Smith. He hired someone to kidnap me, whisking me away to the remote Chaosiford. My face was marred by scratches. My kidney was ripped from my body. My lifeless form was cast into a fetid pond. The news of my death was splashed across newspapers and swiftly carried back to Kinstoland. Upon hearing it, my mother, Lily William, was so gripped by despair that her hair turned as white as snow in one anguished night. Her heart finally succumbed to the overwhelming weight of her grief. Clutching her bouquet like a trophy, Lilian entwined her arm with my brother, Joey William. Together, they marched towards Max with the pomp and swagger of a victory procession. But then, my eyes fluttered open, and I found myself returning to the day I adopted Lilian. She stood at the door, timid, as she whispered my name, Natalie. Clad in an ill-fitting pink dress, she looked at me with awkwardness. Her petite face, no larger than a delicate palm, was etched with an intense yearning and a tender closeness. “Can I call you Natalie?” she asked. I would carry her voice with me until my dying day. It was this very voice that echoed through Chaosiford, calling out in the aftermath of the moment my face was marred by scratches. She proudly declared that Max and Joey had done it all for her. The physical agony from my past life was now left behind. But it was the phantom ache near my kidneys that tormented me most. My nails dug into my palms as I eyed the seemingly innocent girl before me. My voice was cold, “Whatever.” I harbored a kidney laced with toxins. A specialist once predicted that I would need a kidney transplant upon reaching adulthood, lest I not see past twenty. Among all potential donors, Lilian’s kidney matched mine with uncanny precision. The William family promised her a life of luxury if she agreed to the transplant, which she did. Her presence in the Moonlit Villa was a testament to this pact. Receiving my answer, Lilian stepped forward with joy, reaching out to grasp my wrist. Her voice was as sweet as honey when she said, “Natalie, don’t worry. As soon as I give you my kidney, you’ll be well again in no time.” Her joyous approach was a scene from my past life. A pang of guilt struck me for her because I knew that her kidney was destined for my salvation through transplantation. I granted her every wish. I resolved to also set aside a share of my belongings for her. With her sights set on attending a prestigious high school, Ksyford School, I urged my mother to arrange for her to transfer into my class. She confided in me about being an orphan with low self-esteem, so I made it known to all that she was my sister, elevating her status in the eyes of others. Even as she approached Max, my fiancé, at the birthday party, I cautioned Max to cherish her well with a playful yet earnest tone. Yet, all my efforts and sacrifices for her were met with nothing but her deep-seated resentment. In the moments before my death in that past life, she questioned why I had everything while she was abandoned at birth. Her jealousy drove her to take my fiancé and brother from me. I sneered. It took death for me to learn that the tale of the farmer and the snake was no mere fiction; some were undeserving of kindness. I brushed away Lilian’s hand. My eyelashes were lowered. “The William family will ensure your wealth, but you don’t seek my friendship. I have no need for it,” I said. Lilian halted in her tracks as an embarrassed flush crept over her features. Ignoring her, I ascended the stairs. My willingness held the power to transform her fate; it would decide if she could be the adopted daughter of the William family as my beloved little sister. Yet, should my heart withhold its blessing, she would stay forever in the margins as merely the orphan. Despite my rejection, Lilian’s enthusiasm remained unquenched. By dinnertime, she had donned the new clothes provided by my family. She eagerly learned about Joey and me from Rose Short, a nanny, and placed freshly squeezed juice before us with a flattering gesture. Joey scoffed. He left the orange juice untouched until the meal’s end. I caught the disappointment on Lilian’s face. Then, I pondered when Joey’s affection for Lilian began. He was so utterly captivated by Lilian that he was prepared to forge an alliance with Max, conspiring to exile me, his own sister, to the distant, untamed wilderness of Chaosiford. It was clear as day that Joey harbored a deep-seated loathing for Lilian when it all began. He even refused the juice she offered. At the very same moment as in our past life, Lilian appeared at my door, clad only in her pajamas. I stood at the threshold, gazing into her tear-filled eyes with an air of indifference. At this precise moment, Lily had just finalized the transfer arrangements for Lilian. Tomorrow, Lilian would walk through the gates of Ksyford School alongside Joey and me. I understood the worries that clouded her mind. Ksyford School was an institution masquerading as a key high school but more akin to an aristocratic college. Aside from a select few who were admitted for their exceptional academic prowess, the majority of the student body at Ksyford School was composed of those born into wealth or nobility. Lilian possessed neither the sterling academic record nor the distinguished lineage. Her presence there was akin to a rabbit venturing into a garden of tigers. She tentatively tugged at my sleeve. Her voice broke with emotion, “Natalie, I am an orphan, marked by inferiority from the very cradle.” I cast my gaze downward, focusing on the sleeve she clutched with desperate fingers. Her soft sobbing reached my ears. “I’m terrified that no one will like me.” After enduring her heart-wrenching sobs in our past life, I had promised her a family. I had assured her that she would have a share in all that I possessed. Consequently, the entire class was under the impression that Lilian was the youngest heiress of the William family. Yet, how did she choose to repay my generosity? She wept pitifully to my friends, claiming she was nothing more than a living donor for me. She alleged that I had coerced her into undergoing the transplant. A soft laugh escaped my lips as I gently reclaimed my sleeve from her grip. My gaze met the disappointment etched across her face. I said icily, “It’s unwise to make malicious assumptions based on events that have yet to unfold.” Her sobs ceased abruptly. She gaped at me. I furrowed my brows, gripping the door handle firmly. “I’m going to sleep,” I announced. She opened her mouth, perhaps to plead or to say something more. But I had lost all willingness to engage and closed the door softly but firmly. After a brief pause, there came a knocking on the door next to mine. Until Joey spat out the words “get out” with such venom, the incessant knocking on the door finally ceased. Joey had always possessed the soul of an introvert. He perpetually cloaked himself in silence and indifference. He had never been one to openly express his likes or dislikes. Most of the time, he favored the company of his own solitude. His apparent disdain for Lilian was a deviation from his usual demeanor.

As we prepared to leave for school, Lilian trailed behind me. Her curiosity was piqued as she peered through the car window. “Isn’t Joey joining us?” she asked. Once upon a time, before high school, Joey and I shared the same ride to school. Later, my old ailment seized me once again in the classroom. The driver waited for Joey, who was engrossed in a basketball game at the eastern campus. Lily rushed to my side at the hospital. After a public scolding of Joey, she flew overseas to handle a contract. From that day forward, Joey chose to ride his bicycle to school alone. His figure grew ever more distant. Lilian frowned as if she were piecing together a complex puzzle. Just as I had foreseen, when Lilian stepped forward and introduced herself, she was met not with the warmth of affection but with the cold sting of disdain. She possessed neither stellar grades to boast of. Nor did she come from a family of notable standing. Among the congregation of wealthy heirs, she stood out starkly. After Lilian finished her unremarkable self-introduction, Selena White, my friend, leaned in and whispered, “Who is she?” From my seat, I watched Lilian, whose discomfort was palpable on the podium, and I couldn’t help but let a sneer curl my lips. “She’s a poor soul, attempting to mingle with the wealthy,” I remarked. In a past life, under my protection, Lilian had seamlessly blended into my circle of friends. Thus, she was shielded from the sting of disdain. This time, I observed her floundering with a detached indifference. After school, Lilian was repeatedly detained by Mia Brown. The rationale behind this was to provide the freshmen with an update on their homework progression. Lilian reached out, clutching my sleeve. She gazed at me with eyes full of pleas. It was then that I noticed the bruises and scars marring her face. I arched an eyebrow and calmly asked, “What happened?” With an arm draped around Lilian’s shoulders, Mia chuckled. “Just a little extra tutoring for the new students.” Girls with dyed blonde hair prodded Lilian’s cheeks. They grinned and said with mockery, “It seems our new student isn’t too keen on integrating?” Lilian’s cheeks reddened under the sharp nails. Her sobs were choked back as she shook her head. It wasn’t until dinner that Lilian returned to the Moonlit Villa. She was exhausted. Passing the dining table, she asked why I hadn’t waited for her. Tears welled in her eyes. I did not miss the brief flare of resentment that sparked in her eyes. I tapped the tabletop and felt amused. I coldly retorted, “Do I have any obligation to wait for you?” As I turned away, Lilian called out, “Natalie William! “I’m willing to donate one of my kidneys to you. “Aren’t you even a little grateful?” Confusion furrowed my brow. I gestured towards her limited edition dress and custom-made leather shoes. I gazed at her calmly. “As part of our deal, my family has already provided you with a good life.” I enumerated the benefits Lilian had reaped. The William family had plucked Lilian from the orphanage, transplanting her into the grandeur of the Moonlit Villa. She had also earned her spot at Ksyford School, mingling daily with students whose names were synonymous with prestige. She got a share of my own possessions. Each piece of her clothing was a tangible emblem of the gifts we had bestowed upon her. Her cheeks flushed. Her voice melted into a gentle whisper. “I treat you as my sister, but you seem to despise me. Did I do something wrong?” I looked into her puzzled face. My voice was gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” It was I who had erred, failing to see people for who they truly were. The cruel twist of fate that orchestrated my tragic end was so devastating that it turned my mother’s hair stark white in a single night, and her heart, unable to bear the sorrow, simply ceased to beat. If given the chance to relive it all, I would cast aside all those who had once forsaken me, ensuring they met the retribution they so rightly deserved. I would begin with Lilian. Since Lilian coveted my background and yearned to be part of the wealthy elite, I would shatter her hopes. I would ensure she was reduced to nothing more than a distant speck to gaze longingly at the stars. Lilian was once again detained by Mia under the guise of tutoring. The driver calmly nodded, preparing to leave the campus. Through the car window, I caught a glimpse of Lilian trailing behind Joey. Joey remained indifferent as ever. However, Lilian bit her lip and fixed her gaze on me through the half-raised glass. The next day, Lilian began her journey to school with Joey. She sat in the backseat. Her arms were carefully wrapped around Joey’s waist. They acted as inseparable as conjoined branches and sped away from me. During morning reading, Joey escorted Lilian to the classroom door. His expression remained blank. In full view of everyone, Lilian called out to him in a sweet voice, “Joey!” Joey turned his head. A smile graced her lips. “Remember to pick me up after school!” I clenched my hands, watching Joey nodding gently and agreeing to her request. Upon receiving his answer, Lilian smiled broadly. From halfway across the classroom, she cast a smile towards me. Her face shone with an unmistakable pride. I knew the source of her pride. She took pride in the peculiar reality that Joey maintained a distant connection with me while he was nonetheless willing to chauffeur her to and from school. Selena nudged my arm and voiced her confusion, “Why does she call Joey?” I released my tightly clasped hands and calmly replied, “I don’t know.” I didn’t understand why Lilian called Joey. I was utterly perplexed as to why Joey had suddenly responded to Lilian. Regardless of his reasons, since that morning, Lilian was never detained for tutoring again. Upon returning to the Moonlit Villa, Lilian approached me with a blue doll in her hands. She feigned curiosity. “Natalie, did you make this doll for Joey? It’s so exquisite. It must have taken a lot of time!” I gazed silently at the doll she held. The poignant memory took me back to when I was just twelve years old. Night after night, I forsook sleep, pouring my heart into crafting the doll for Joey’s birthday. When I excitedly presented it to him, he merely uttered a cold “thank you” before placing it on the windowsill. Since childhood, I had been frail. Lily wrapped me in a cocoon of stringent control. Joey was my sole playmate, yet he disliked playing with me. I called him sweetly, offering him candies. His eyes narrowed with an unmistakable loathing as he commanded coldly, “Go away.” I never understood why Joey disliked me, yet I yearned for his affection. Thus, I went to great lengths to please him. Staying up to make a doll was one of those foolish endeavors. Reflecting on the phone call before my death in my previous life, I found it all so absurd. I snatched the handmade doll Lilian was flaunting. My eyes locked on Joey behind her. With an impassive expression, I tossed the doll into the trash. “It’s dirty.” The sincerity I had poured into that gift was wasted. It didn’t matter. I could throw it away just as easily as I could discard Joey without a second thought. Joey frowned, remaining silent. Lilian stood before me, preparing to condemn me. “Don’t you think you’ve gone too far? You’re using your mother’s favoritism to bully your brother!” Hearing this, I sneered. I finally figured out why Joey had always hated me. He believed our mother favored me. I turned to face Lilian, whose indignation clouded her features. A realization of why Joey, with his usual indifference, would stand up for Lilian dawned on me. What a profound family bond they shared. I pushed aside Lilian, who was blocking my path. My face was devoid of emotion. I turned and ascended the stairs in silence. Outside the window, a drizzle began to fall. Raindrops tapped against the glass with a crisp sound. It should have been the perfect environment for sleep, yet slumber eluded me. The memories of trying to win Joey’s favor as a child flickered through my mind unbidden. He always told me coldly to go away. My neatly trimmed nails dug deep into my palm. “I don’t want you this time,” I murmured to the memory of the young Joey. My voice was choked. “What kind of brother are you?” I had tried so hard to be kind to him. Yet, he took in false accusations and conspired with Max to send me to Chaosiford for Lilian, an adopted daughter of our family. My face was scarred by a razor blade. My kidneys were removed, and I was thrown into a fetid pool. Meanwhile, he held Lilian’s hand, walking her towards Max. The pain of having a kidney removed in my previous life resurfaced suddenly. I curled up, holding my waist tightly. A string of tears dampened the pillow as an uncontrollable moan escaped my throat. Once again, I was engulfed in the despair of being butchered. I was unable to extricate myself. A warm hand touched my forehead. An anxious voice abruptly pulled me from my reverie, “Natalie.” I opened my heavy eyelids to find Lily sitting beside the bed. She gently wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes. Her gaze was filled with love. “Mom is here.” This was the first time I had seen my mother since my rebirth. My nose tingled, and I couldn’t help but throw myself into her arms. She softly caressed my cheek. With a sigh, she asked, “What’s wrong, Natalie? Have you been wronged?” I shook my head gently. It wasn’t worth sacrificing myself for Joey and Lilian. “Dr. Blake said you had a high fever due to emotional distress,” Lily said. She handed me pills with a fearful sigh. “If Rose hadn’t come up to call you for breakfast and found something amiss, you would be in the ICU by now.” After a knock on the door, Rose entered with milk, placing it on the small table. She gestured towards the door. “It’s raining outside, but Mr. Joey William is still kneeling.” Anger lingered in Lily’s voice. “Let him alone. He must accept the punishment for his wrongdoings.” Joey had been kneeling in the courtyard for a long time. I approached him, holding an umbrella. He didn’t even raise his head. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Are you satisfied?” The umbrella handle dug into my hand. I lowered my eyelashes. “If Rose hadn’t discovered my high fever, I would be in the ICU now. “But you thought I was framing you, tricking Mom into coming home because of illness.” Joey suddenly lifted his head. Tears welled in his eyes. I half-squatted, examining him closely. I asked sincerely, “So, in your heart, even an adopted daughter brought into our family halfway through is more important than me, your biological sister? “You drive her to and from school, and you can even give her the birthday present I gave you.” Joey remained silent. I blinked, speaking to him softly, “Joey, you hate me, don’t you?” His eyelashes trembled slightly, but he never denied my words. So, it was true. Joey did hate me. I nodded, suppressing my tears. “That’s right! I don’t like you either. I won’t recognize you as my brother anymore!”

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Everyone dreamt of having a companion in their old age. But the person who would have grown old with me had long since passed away, and here I was, at seventy. My body was still spry. I could hike two mountains back-to-back without breaking a sweat. My mindset was youthful, too; I spent my days scrolling through my phone at home. Encouraged by the beauty industry and some of those younger ladies, I decided to get some work done. When I woke up, I felt like I’d turned back the clock thirty years. On the day I was discharged, my three sons came to pick me up. My eldest, Ryan Fleming, couldn’t stop praising me. My middle son, Steve Fleming, gave me a thumbs-up, his pride evident. And then there was my youngest, Barry Fleming, daringly teasing me, “Mom, you look younger than I do now!” Hearing that made my heart swell with joy. I caught a glimpse of my youthful face in the car window’s reflection and couldn’t help but clap my hands in delight. But while my sons knew about my transformation, my old friends had no idea. It took several weeks of mental preparation and letting my new look settle before I felt ready to face the world again. The moment I stepped out into the spotlight was on my seventieth birthday, and that was when my nightmare began. Determined to keep my spirited attitude and embrace activities that only the young would dare to try, I decided to shake things up. I abandoned the usual dinner gatherings and threw a party at my house, inviting friends and family to celebrate. On the day of the party, my sons seemed to have coordinated their efforts, each bringing along their wives or partners. The emcee read heartfelt messages, champagne flowed freely, and the atmosphere was electric. The number of people continued to rise, and among them, more and more middle-aged single men were appearing, providing ample opportunities for me to socialize. As I sat in the guest of honor’s seat, a parade of handsome and not-so-handsome men, tall and short, passed by me. I thought surely I’d find someone who caught my eye. But then the lights flickered. Ryan’s wife, Cailey Pratt, leaned against the couch, her glass of wine in hand, her gaze hazy and unfocused. That look in her eyes was all too familiar—it reminded me of how I used to look at my late husband. But then, to my shock, Cailey suddenly said to my son, looking at me. “Ryan, I don’t love you anymore.” “What?” Ryan exclaimed, stunned. “I don’t love you anymore.” Ryan gripped his wine glass tightly, and I widened my eyes in disbelief. Though most of the guests were family, I silently wished, “Let’s pretend we didn’t hear that.” Alanis Carell, my middle son’s wife, who’d never gotten along with Cailey, seized the moment. “Cailey, do you even realize what you just said?” I chimed in, “Cailey, you…” But Cailey cut me off, her eyes sparkling with affection as she stood in front of me. “Mom, you know what? I love you. “And I just want to…” Ignoring Alanis, Cailey continued, “Mom, I want to hug you! I love you so much…” I awkwardly smiled and opened my arms, embracing Cailey like a gentleman. I could feel her hugging me tighter and tighter, to the point where it felt like my ribs were about to snap. I had to twist away, and now my back was killing me. “Ow, Cailey, that’s enough!” I winced, trying to pry her off me. But Cailey wouldn’t let go. To everyone else, it looked like a heartfelt reunion between old friends. I waved my hand, trying to rouse my dazed son. “Ryan, Cailey’s drunk! Shouldn’t you take her home to rest?” Ryan nodded, a mix of frustration and confusion on his face, and he hoisted Cailey over his shoulder. As they stumbled away, I felt my face burn with embarrassment while the guests looked on in bewilderment. Their expressions were a mix of shock and disbelief, lingering until the party finally came to an end. I sat there like a zombie, unable to wrap my head around the fact that my son’s wife could harbor such twisted feelings toward me, feelings that bordered on obsession. During this surreal moment, some well-meaning souls even patted my shoulder, offering words of encouragement. “Hang in there,” they said, trying to offer support.

After the party wrapped up and my sons had taken their families home, I found myself alone, feeling both helpless and exasperated as I cleaned up the house. My mind drifted back to Cailey’s intense gaze—the way it felt like she wanted to devour me whole. The rich aroma of red wine still lingered in the glass, and I was too exhausted to resist. I downed it in one gulp. “What the hell was that all about?” I muttered, shaking my head. If I had known my charm was still alive and kicking, I might have skipped the plastic surgery. But then again, who wouldn’t want to feel thirty years younger? The next morning, I was jolted awake by a nightmare—Cailey’s loving gaze haunting me in my sleep. I never expected such a thing to make me feel so nauseous, and I ended up feeling under the weather for several days. With Alanis busy making a living and Barry still single, it fell on Cailey to take care of me. She cooked, cleaned, and even tackled the laundry. While this was nothing new, it felt more awkward than ever. One day, Cailey appeared with a bowl of oatmeal, a spoon poised in front of my mouth, gently blowing on it. Cailey smiled at me, “Mom, it’s time to eat.” Her tone was soft, and to anyone watching, we looked like a picture-perfect pair. But her words sent a chill down my spine, like a haunting melody I couldn’t escape. I had no choice but to oblige as she cheerfully fed me the lukewarm oatmeal. Cailey said, her enthusiasm bubbling over, “Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to the park. “There’s a new batch of roses, and I remember they’re your favorite.” Before I could even form a complete response, she was off, her hips swaying in a way that could make a willow tree envious. With Ryan often buried in work, sometimes late into the night, I worried about any rifts forming between them. So, I decided to pay them a visit. I knocked on their door and called out, “Ryan, guess who’s here? Your mom!” Inside, Ryan was busy cooking while Cailey stood beside him, her brow furrowed. “Am I not welcome? Why is everyone so quiet?” I asked, sensing the tension. Ryan glanced at me, but Cailey’s expression was one of distress. “What’s wrong? Did you two have a fight?” I asked, trying to soothe the situation as I nudged Ryan away from the stove. The flames were roaring, and as I cracked an egg into the pan, I teased, “You didn’t bully Cailey again, did you?” Ryan shook his head, exasperated. “Me? Bully her? Come on, Mom! Cailey’s got a mouth on her that could take down a lion.” He had a point. Cailey was the only daughter, spoiled by her parents. When she married into our family, she even tried to negotiate an extra 30 thousand dollars in gift money for marriage. I wasn’t having it and settled on 15 thousand dollars. Their relationship had been surprisingly harmonious. Even now, at nearly forty, Cailey hadn’t gotten pregnant, but they had never fought over infidelity. But the other night, everything changed when Cailey made that outrageous declaration. She had said she loved me! And that she wanted to hug me! At Ryan’s words, Cailey’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “No, Mom, I just want to be by your side. Ryan’s the one who’s been mean to me.” I said, “Why would he hit you?” “Because… because…” She stammered, unable to give a clear answer. My son, though big and burly, had never had a parent-teacher meeting over a fight in his life. Ryan rolled his eyes, nearly passing out, and shouted, “I didn’t hit her. She wants a divorce.” “Divorce?” I quickly covered Ryan’s mouth, hissing, “Son, don’t go spreading nonsense!” Up until now, their family had always been calm, never even a raised voice. But their situation hadn’t changed, and Cailey’s eyes still glowed with affection for me. With no other option, I decided to feign anger and said, “If this is about me, I’ll stay out of your lives from now on.” I lifted my skirt and turned to leave. Ryan, knowing me well, understood I was just trying to scare them and that I wouldn’t actually leave. But Cailey wasn’t the same. She suddenly burst into tears upon hearing my words, rushed over, and clung to me. “Please don’t go, Mom!” Cailey cried, sobbing uncontrollably. At my age, I thought I could still rely on my seniority to handle this situation, but it seemed not to be enough. They were indeed heading for a divorce, which meant dividing assets and a mandatory one-month cooling-off period.

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While we were in the midst of applying for our marriage license, Bryce Clark, my boyfriend of three years, received news that his neighbor, Patricia Adams, was about to give birth. Without any hesitation, he left me behind. “Patricia is about to give birth. I must take care of her. Let’s get the license another day.”

What was it like to find out your husband’s mistress was nine months pregnant? “Lily, let’s have two kids, one boy, one girl. How does that sound?” In my dream, I heard that familiar voice again, so warm and comforting it almost felt like paradise. But when I opened my eyes, the reality hit hard. The dark ceiling above seemed to press down, suffocating me with its weight. Jason Turner, next to me, pulled me closer, his face nestled into my neck, his slow, even breaths brushing against my skin. For a moment, I was still caught between the dream and reality. And then, right on cue, his phone lit up on the nightstand. The password was the day we got married. Just as I thought, it was a message from his lover, Brittany Cole. [Jason, I had my check-up today! Look at the baby’s picture!] Attached was an ultrasound. I could clearly see the fully-formed baby, the tiny, fragile life practically jumping off the screen, leaving a mark I couldn’t erase. This wasn’t the first time I’d stumbled across her texts. Just last week, I saw a message from an unknown number telling Jason she was nine months pregnant. I didn’t say anything then, and by the next day, he had already deleted it. [Still awake?] Jason must have noticed the light from his phone because he stirred slightly, mumbling as he pulled me closer. I turned to look at him. He was still asleep, his arm resting possessively over my stomach, like we were the perfect couple. For a moment, I was lost in thought. Our marriage had been a whirlwind. On paper, Jason was the ideal catch with a great family, successful career, and attractive appearance. Though cold and distant, he was always polite. During our first meeting, he was blunt. He wasn’t interested in love and wouldn’t have even come to meet me if his parents hadn’t pushed him. He made it clear that work came first, and while he couldn’t promise love, he could provide a comfortable life. If that was enough for me, we could go through the motions. It all seemed so perfect at the time. Our families were thrilled, and for the last three years, we had played our roles well. But now, as I lay next to him, his warmth so close, I felt nothing. My hand rested on my chest as I thought back to those three years, and suddenly, it hit me. This life wasn’t what I wanted. The next morning, I woke up like usual, planning to make breakfast, but to my surprise, Jason had already done it. “Come and eat,” he called out casually, his eyes glued to his phone, already immersed in work like nothing had changed. I sat down across from him, watching him for a moment before finally saying, “I want a divorce.” Jason froze mid-scroll, then looked up at me, his brow furrowed. “You went through my phone?” I nodded. “I’ll handle it,” he said flatly, his attention already shifting back to his phone. I kept my gaze on him. “Is there even anything left to handle?” Jason’s expression shifted, and he finally seemed to grasp what I meant. His head snapped up, and he put his phone down, walking over to me. He crouched beside me and took my hand, his voice soft, like he was trying to reason with a child. “Lily, I haven’t seen her since that one time. It was a mistake. I swear.” I just looked at him, saying nothing. Nine months ago, Jason had an affair. It wasn’t some secret that only I knew about. Both of our families had found out. Brittany had sent explicit photos of them together directly to his parents. His mom and dad, being the traditionalists they were, were furious. They didn’t even give me a chance to process anything before dragging both my parents and me into it, publicly shaming him and airing all our dirty laundry. In the chaos, I never really got a chance to feel anger or betrayal. I was too busy being suffocated by everyone else’s expectations. His parents had cried, blaming everything on the shameless mistress, and begged me to forgive him, saying that I should be understanding. My parents weren’t any better. My dad, all serious, kept telling me, “Do you know how hard it is to find a good man with a house, a car, and a steady job? It was just a one-time mistake. Marriage is about compromise.” My mom, with tears running down her face, had gone on a dramatic tirade, saying, “You want a divorce? Are you trying to make me sick with worry? Do you know how embarrassing that would be at your age? Thirty and divorced. What will the neighbors think?” That night, Jason came home looking exhausted, like he’d been through a long lecture from his parents. But when he looked at me, there wasn’t an ounce of guilt on his face. Our marriage had always been more of a partnership than anything else, civil, distant. But that night, it was like something snapped inside him. He held me tight, almost desperately, like he was trying to make up for something. After it was over, he leaned over me, gripping my chin, his voice low and tense. “Lily, let’s be real, this… this is your fault too…” I stared at him, waiting for him to finish. His voice cracked, and instead of continuing, he just pulled me into his arms, whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry. I was drunk. I thought she was you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” It was the first time he’d ever called me intimately, and I didn’t even know how to react. His apologies swirled around me, but all I could hear was the echo of our parents’ voices, telling me to forgive and forget. In some twisted way, I gave in. I even cried that night, but I let it go. The scandal slowly faded, and life went back to normal. If it hadn’t been for Brittany’s pregnancy, no one would’ve remembered what happened. “Are you serious?” Jason’s voice pulled me back to the present. Seeing my silence, he tried to smile, but it was strained, and his breathing became labored. The warmth in his eyes turned cold, sharp. Without warning, he grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight as his voice dropped low, trembling with anger. “Listen to me, Lily. I’m not giving you a divorce. Not now. Not ever. Over my dead body.” With that, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him, leaving me alone in the quiet, empty house.

“Find yourself a husband like Lily’s, tall, handsome, rich, successful, and completely devoted! I’m so envious!” At the company dinner that night, the mood was lively, and the conversation bounced around from topic to topic. Somehow, the discussion turned to me, and one of my single colleagues couldn’t hide her jealousy as she asked how I managed to snag such a great husband. With a slight buzz from the drinks, I smiled and said, “You’ll find your own happiness too.” “Yeah, but will it be as lucky as yours?” they joked, and laughter filled the room. By the end of the night, as we made our way outside, we were greeted by a torrential downpour. While everyone complained about the awful weather, Jason arrived to pick me up. He always looked impressive in his impeccably tailored suit, and tonight was no different. As he got out of the car with an umbrella, he greeted my colleagues with charm and ease, which only made them tease me more. “You’re so lucky, Lily! Your husband even comes to pick you up from work!” “Seriously, we have to watch you two flaunt your relationship while we’re stuck here!” Jason wrapped me in a warm embrace, said his goodbyes, and led me to the car. Once inside, he looked at me with a hint of frustration. “Why did you drink so much?” My head was spinning, and though I heard him clearly, I wasn’t in the mood to engage. When we got home, Jason carefully helped me onto the couch, took off my shoes, and gently washed my face. His movements were a blur, but I forced myself to focus on his figure. The compliments from my colleagues rang in my ears, and I suddenly felt a surge of determination. I reached into my bag and pulled out the divorce papers. When Jason came back with the hangover medicine, I handed him the documents. “I don’t want anything,” I said firmly. “This is the agreement I wrote up earlier.” Jason’s face fell instantly. Without a word, he tore the papers into shreds, his frustration evident. “I told you I’d handle this.” I shook my head. “But Jason, I can’t live like this anymore.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked coldly. “Do you even know what you’ll be giving up if you divorce me?” “I know.” His expression grew more troubled. After a tense silence, he said, “Stop making a scene.” He put the medicine down and tried to feed it to me. I refused and continued, “Jason, when we decided to be together, I genuinely wanted to build a life with you. But now, I just can’t accept this.” He looked at me with a deepening frown, his eyes turning red. We hadn’t had any other major issues besides the affair, and my firmness seemed to unsettle him. He had never shown anger towards me before, and this sudden intensity took me by surprise. I tried to lighten the mood, saying, “Honestly, if you’re with her now, the child won’t be a total outcast.” That seemed to set him off. He slammed the hangover medicine onto the floor and grabbed me by the waist, pressing his forehead against mine. “Lily, is your only reason for wanting a divorce my affair?” A shiver ran down my spine, and I dreaded revisiting the painful past. Jason’s face contorted with rage, veins bulging as he seethed, “I’d tear open your chest just to see if your heart is still in there or if it’s gone with that dead man!” His anger was something I had never seen before. This confrontation was far more intense than I expected. I had anticipated some argument, but his reaction was explosive. Even more surprising was the wounded look on his face as he continued, his voice harsh and mocking, “It’s been three years, and you still can’t forget him. How many times have I heard you call his name in your sleep? Tell me, what right do you have to be disgusted with me? What right do you have to ask for a divorce?”

The buzz from the alcohol had completely faded, and my ears were ringing with the impact of Jason’s words, each one slicing through me like a hot knife. In that instant, my heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. Memories I had desperately tried to bury surged back with overwhelming force. “Don’t know how to answer?” Jason sneered. “You think I don’t know anything? By the second year of our marriage, I already knew about your past. I even found that old newspaper about the firefighter who tragically died. His name was Leo Shaw, your childhood friend! I know all about him!” My mind felt like it was going to explode. Jason might have been expecting me to crumble, but strangely, as I looked at him, I started to feel more composed. I was stunned by his rage, which made me feel like I was the one in the wrong. Just then, his phone rang. “Who’s it?” he snapped as he answered. After listening, his expression softened slightly, and he quickly said he had to leave. After hanging up, he turned his back to me, still brimming with anger. “I’ve got urgent business and need to stay late at the office tonight.” He paused, clenched his fist, and said firmly, “Don’t bring up divorce again.” Feeling helpless, I retreated to our room. Seeing the framed photo on the wall reminded me of when we first met. At thirty, I was entering my tenth year of vacillation, still single since Leo’s death. Despite my friends’ jabs about being a perennial singleton, everyone around me seemed to be getting married and having children who were now even starting school. “Do you think Leo would want you to be alone down here?” During that period of relentless matchmaking pressure, my father’s persistent nagging was like sandpaper against my ear. “Dad, that’s kind of creepy,” I would always joke to brush it off. Leo was like a hidden part of my life, something I kept to myself. It was like when people said someone was still alive in your heart even after they were gone. He used to joke that his job required him to be ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good at any moment. Whenever he said that, I’d get all choked up. He’d tap my forehead with a playful grin and say, “I don’t want to die and leave you to marry someone else. That’s just silly.” It took me years to come to terms with his death. In my heart, Leo never really left, and I avoided thinking about him because those memories were too painful. Eventually, I gave in to the relentless ticking of time and the pressure from family and neighbors, and I started to manage my feelings with a bit more grace. So, when my parents, after attending yet another wedding and dramatically insisting I find someone quickly or face the consequences, demanded I get a move on, I agreed. I remember the day of my blind date with Jason. The cherry blossom tree planted outside my house was in full bloom. Leo loved those blossoms. That tree, right by my bedroom window, was his playground. He’d climb it and jump into my room with his trademark cheeky smile. Since his accident, that tree hadn’t bloomed again. But on the day of my date, not only was it covered in flowers, but it also had an abundance of buds. I felt like maybe this date was going to be different. They say countless women have tried their luck with Jason, but I was the lucky one who clicked with him right off the bat. The matchmaker couldn’t stop gloating about how envious the other women were of me. And honestly, she wasn’t wrong. Jason had a house, a car, a hefty bank account, and a prestigious job as a top lawyer. He’d even achieved financial freedom before most people even started thinking about it. And as if that wasn’t enough, he bought me a brand-new house even before we got married. “When we sign the papers, is it okay if I put only my name on the deed?” he asked, worried I might misinterpret his intentions. I shrugged. “It’s your money.” He grinned with confidence as he signed his name. “It doesn’t matter whose name is on the deed. What matters is that we’ll grow old together in this house.” I smiled back. “Of course.” At that moment, I’d made up my mind to move on from Leo. Although the memories still hurt, I knew I was ready to be devoted to Jason for the rest of my life. Time sped by, and three years of marriage had flown by in a heartbeat. I sighed deeply, thinking about Jason’s explosive anger earlier. I decided to call him. “Jason, Leo has been out of my life for thirteen years.” There was silence on the other end. I continued, “When we got married, I was fully committed to our future. I’m devoted to this marriage.” I just needed him to understand that some things couldn’t be compared. After a prolonged silence, Jason’s voice came through, rough and tired. “Can we just move past this?” “No, we can’t.” I heard him breathing heavily, likely smoking. Whenever he was stressed, he’d sigh heavily and retreat to smoke alone. Eventually, his voice came back, heavy with sadness. “Lily, even though we started this as a partnership, I fell in love with you.” The word “love” felt harsh to me. I replied, “You should focus on your work.” Before he could respond, I ended the call. It was only moments later that I realized he had asked one last question. “What about you?” In my mind, I could easily replay the moments we shared. Our relationship was smooth and loving, like when we first moved into our new house. With both of us busy, we hadn’t had time to clean or organize. His parents suggested I quit my teaching job to take up one of their arranged positions so I could manage the home better. I wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but Jason would come home, shower me with affection, kiss my face, and whisper how much he loved my cooking. “Be good, and accept the arrangement for me.” His affectionate persistence made me give in. “Fine, but my cooking isn’t that great.” He’d playfully tackle me with a teasing grin. “If it’s not good, then I’ll just eat you!” His flirtatious ways were hard to resist. There were countless such moments. He liked me to help him shave, tie his tie, and pick out his clothes. Every little thing was endearing, but I was unsure if I truly loved him. I remember on our second wedding anniversary, someone came by selling insurance. I bought a policy and listed him as the beneficiary. Yes, I tried to love him. But that fragile affection was ultimately shattered by his affair.

This was the first real standoff between Jason and me since we got married. Earlier in the day, I had finished drafting the divorce papers. Just as I was about to send them over, Jason texted, asking me to meet him for lunch at a restaurant near his office. I didn’t refuse. But when I got there and sat down, it wasn’t him waiting for me. Instead, sitting across from me was a young woman with a noticeable baby bump. Her appearance caught me completely off guard. Never in a million years did I expect Jason’s mistress to show up so brazenly. “You know who I am, don’t you?” Brittany spoke first, her voice full of confidence, as if she had every right to be there, like she was the one married to Jason. Honestly, I had only seen her in pictures before, the kind that lived on Jason’s parents’ phone. In person, she looked younger than I imagined. She was just a fresh-faced girl, barely out of college. My eyes lingered on her belly for a split second before I quickly looked away. Brittany lifted her chin, smug and confrontational. “You’ve known about me for a while now. I opened my Twitter just for you, and I know you’ve read my posts.” Every word out of her mouth, every gesture, especially the way she cradled her pregnant belly, was a glaring reminder of Jason’s betrayal. It should have felt like a slap in the face, a reason to fight for what was mine. But strangely, I felt none of that. Months ago, when I first discovered the affair, I was furious, hurt, blindsided. But now, nine months later, I was disturbingly calm. “My family has more money than yours! You think ignoring me will make me go away?” Brittany’s voice grew sharp when she noticed my indifference. She slammed her hand on the table, clearly rattled. “This is all your fault! Now he’s forcing me to get rid of this baby. Do you even care? It’s been nine months! This is a real life we’re talking about, and you’re just standing by, heartless! I hate you!” She was practically shouting, waving her belly in front of me like a badge of honor, trying to pin her problems on me. It was absurd, really. I could see right through her, the cocky bravado of a young woman who thought her youth gave her an edge. She probably believed her age alone made her special, untouchable. But the truth was, I didn’t care. I had no interest in whatever game she was playing or why she came here. I stood up, leaned in just enough to catch her eye, and tapped the table gently in front of her. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re the mistress here.” To me, she was nothing more than a bad joke, and I’d never had much patience for jokes or for clowns. “Wait, I’m not done yet!” Brittany’s voice trailed behind me as she lunged for my wrist. I wasn’t interested in dragging this out any longer, so I swiftly sidestepped her. She let out a frustrated yelp, but I didn’t bother to turn around. As I made my way to the door, I spotted Jason rushing over, completely out of breath, sweat dripping down his face. The moment he saw Brittany standing behind me, his expression soured. “Jason…” she called out to him softly, her voice trembling as if on the verge of tears. But before she could say anything more, he snapped at her, “Who told you to come here?” It was the kind of messy, public confrontation that Jason had to be dreading. His mistress and wife were meeting face-to-face. What a scene. He couldn’t even look at me. Instead, he strode over, grabbed Brittany by the arm, and tried to drag her away without a word. She resisted, her voice rising in a shaky protest. “What about the baby? You can’t just…” That set off a wave of whispers around the restaurant, and now everyone was staring. Jason’s face darkened with embarrassment as he hissed through gritted teeth, “Shut up!” Brittany fell silent, letting him pull her along as the onlookers continued to murmur. My appetite was long gone. With a sigh, I stood up and made my way out. Jason caught up with me outside, his expression torn between guilt and frustration. He grabbed my arm, his voice urgent. “I was taking her to get rid of the baby. She said she needed time to prepare, so I wasn’t paying attention. That’s when she must’ve gotten into my phone and found out where you were. “I’m sorry. I should’ve handled this better.” His words came out in a rush, panic creeping into his voice. “I’m such an idiot, letting her show up like that. Just give me one day, okay? I swear, she’ll never cross your path again.” He looked genuinely pained, his brow furrowed, exhaustion etched on his face. I believed he meant it, and maybe I should’ve said something in response. But inside, I felt nothing, not even the faintest spark of emotion. It was like I’d gone numb. I wanted to show I was upset or at least give him some kind of reaction, but all I could manage was a sigh. “I’ll send the divorce papers later. I’m going to stay at my parents’ place for a few days.” His expression shifted, frustration taking over as he tightened his grip on my wrist. “Lily, didn’t you hear what I said?” I looked down at his hand, and he noticed, loosening his grip, though he didn’t fully let go. I sighed again, feeling more tired than anything else. “Her social media. It’s all there. I’ve seen everything.” The shock in his eyes was almost comical. He stood there, stunned, as I pressed my lips together, offering him nothing more.

Brittany was right. I knew about her affair with Jason, the whole mess that came up after everyone pushed me to just deal with it. I tried to force myself to forget, so I started surfing the internet. I happened to notice someone had followed my social media account. I had a hunch and clicked on their profile. [I met him during my internship. Even though I knew he was married, a man like him, with all his good qualities, was incredibly tempting to me…] [My first kiss happened after we went out for a business event. I stole a kiss, and he told me not to mention it. Then I pretended to be too drunk to walk, and he carried me. He didn’t refuse, so I knew he had feelings for me…] [The first time we slept together, he was drunk. He kept mumbling about how his wife couldn’t forget her first love and was really upset. I did my best to comfort him that night…] [I know he has a wife, but so what? I’m younger and prettier than she is. If he’s willing to be with me, it means he’s tired of her. I know they were set up by their families. Arranged marriages are never about real feelings…] It was the dead of night, and every word from that post seared itself into my mind. I’d never forget the icy chill that washed over me, the suffocating weight of realizing how hollow my marriage truly was. The betrayal felt like a thorn lodged in my heart, making it impossible to breathe. I laughed bitterly at myself for forgiving Jason, for being placated without a fight, and for nothing about Brittany I found online. When I looked back, Jason was sleeping peacefully on the bed. In that moment, I wanted to wake him up and ask him what it was like with her, where they slept together, how long it lasted, and what he felt facing me afterward. But I didn’t do it. All those thoughts were stuck in the reality where I had made peace with him. The apologies from his parents and the advice from my own felt like a net of curses that trapped me. After that, I occasionally checked Brittany’s social media, but since I reconciled with Jason, she hadn’t posted anything new. I also convinced myself to deactivate my social media account to avoid being further affected. Now, Jason looked deeply shaken by my words. His forehead was lined with veins, and he seemed to age a bit in an instant. His voice trembled as he said, “You’ve always been so kind and understanding. You promised before not to pursue this. Why are you refusing now?” I didn’t know how to answer. He frowned deeply, his gaze steady as he said, “I love you, and I will love only you. I promise no one will treat you as well as I do or give you such a good life. Lily, believe me.” His face was tense, his grip on my hand tightening. I could even feel the sweat on his palms. He leaned in close, his voice soft and soothing like before, “Babe…” At that moment, I realized why I felt nothing. Over the past nine months, I hadn’t truly forgiven him. I was just trapped by those voices, constantly suppressing my feelings until I reached a breaking point. All that was left was numbness and self-healing. I didn’t want to get caught up in his pleading anymore. I said, “Let go. I need to go to work.” He gasped in pain, his eyes red, and reluctantly released me. He pleaded, “Babe, I’ll make this right. Just take some time to calm down.”

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In the fourth year of our life together, Malcolm Nelson’s old flame returned to the country after her divorce. Even worse, I was diagnosed with cancer, and I didn’t have much time left. During the few remaining days, I still tried my best to play the role of Malcolm’s good wife. Until the day I passed away, I did my best to be a good wife. And Malcolm, after reading the journal I left behind, completely broke down.