My husband’s female colleague called again, deep in the night. Another body needed urgent cremation. Already exhausted from days of work, my husband got up and left without a word. He didn’t return until the sky was beginning to lighten. “Audrey was swamped. Good thing I was still awake.” I didn’t respond. I just stared at the ceiling. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice a soft murmur. “I know I’ve been neglecting you lately, but it’s my job. I had to go.” “How about we take a trip after this busy stretch? Just you and me.” I remained silent, pulling away from his embrace. My voice was cold when I finally spoke. “Let’s get a divorce.” … Finn’s hands froze. He forced me to face him, his grip firm on my arms. The skin under his eyes was bruised with the dark shadows of sleepless nights. “Quinn, don’t be like this… I know you’re tired. I’m tired, too.” “But this is my duty. You understand that, don’t you?” I avoided his gaze and pulled my hands free. His voice trembled, but he tried to keep it soft. “Is this because I haven’t been home for dinner? Or… because I forgot your birthday last month?” “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. Once I’m through this crunch, we’ll take a long vacation. Just the two of us, okay?” He stroked the back of my hand, the same way he always did to soothe me after a fight. I remembered our first year of marriage; I was miserable at work, suffering from insomnia, and he would sit with me just like this, never complaining, just whispering, “Quinn, I’m here.” Thinking about it now felt like a cruel joke. “Don’t touch me,” I said. His hand froze mid-air, the exhaustion on his face morphing into bewilderment. “What’s wrong with you? Is it just because I had to go to work in the middle of the night again?” “Quinn, life and death are serious matters. If I don’t go, do you expect them to just leave a body lying there?” “I don’t care what you say. Divorce.” I repeated it. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was absolute. His eyes instantly turned red, as if he were seeing me for the first time. “You’re serious?” I turned my back to him. “Nine a.m. tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the courthouse.” Finn laughed, but it was a wounded sound. “Quinn, you have to give me a reason. Is it because of my overtime? Or do you think Audrey and I are…” “Leave her out of this,” I cut him off. “It’s you. You make me sick.” The color drained from his face. His lips trembled, but no sound came out. “Is that really what you think of me?” he finally choked out, his voice raw. “Audrey and I are just colleagues.” I didn’t want to hear any more. I got up, left the bedroom, and closed the door behind me. He didn’t follow. He didn’t try to explain further. I heard the sound of a glass shattering on the floor, followed by a muffled curse. A few moments later, my phone rang. It was Audrey. She was Finn’s senior from college. And his first love. The phone rang for a long time. Finally, I answered. Her voice on the other end was weary. “Quinn, Finn just called me. I wanted to explain…” “We’ve been taking on a lot of cases from the west side of the city recently…” I didn’t have the patience to listen. I hung up. I sat on the sofa, remembering six months ago. He had come home late from a work trip then, too, so tired he collapsed beside me without even taking off his clothes. He’d touched my face with his eyes closed and whispered, “Quinn, I’m so glad you’re here.” Back then, I really believed we could make it for a lifetime. The sun rose completely. When I woke up, Finn was gone. The living room was spotless. Even the jacket he’d worn last night was hanging neatly on the coat rack by the door. A glass of honey water sat on the coffee table, still warm. Next to it was a sticky note. Wait for me to get back. I’ll make you your favorite barbecue ribs. I picked up the glass, walked to the kitchen, and poured the water down the sink. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from him. Quinn, I’m at work. Did you drink the honey water? I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, another one came through. I’ll spend more time with you once this is all over. There’s really nothing between Audrey and me. I stared at the screen for a long time before typing out a single line. Nine a.m. Don’t be late. Then I blocked his number. At eight-thirty, I was standing outside the county courthouse. People came and went, mostly in pairs. Some were holding hands, whispering sweet nothings. Others stood apart, their faces grim. I leaned against a pillar, watching the street. Nine-thirty. He didn’t show. I took out my phone, unblocked his number, and called. It rang three times before he hung up on me. A surge of anger flared up. I redialed. This time, it went straight to a “number unavailable” message. I waited another half hour. Just as I was about to try again, a strange number called me. I answered. A young woman’s voice spoke rapidly. “Is this Mrs. Quinn Harris? This is City Central Hospital. Your husband, Finn Harris, was in a car accident. He’s in emergency surgery. We need you to come and handle the payment immediately.” I froze, the words not quite registering. The voice on the other end was still urgent. “Mrs. Harris? Can you hear me? Mrs. Harris!” I hung up and hailed a cab. By the time I arrived, Finn was out of surgery. A crowd was gathered outside his room. Several people in dark blue uniforms were huddled together, talking in low voices. One of them, a young woman, saw me and rushed over, her eyes red. “Where have you been! Do you have any idea that Finn was calling your name right before they took him into the OR?” “How is he?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the hospital room door. The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What are you doing!?” I ignored her and walked towards Finn’s bed. He didn’t look too bad. One eye was swollen shut, but the other was fixed on me. “You’re here… Don’t worry, I’m okay.” I clenched my fists, then pulled the divorce papers and a pen from my briefcase. “Sign this. Otherwise, I’m not paying your medical bills.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. The people around us stared, mouths agape. The woman who had yelled at me earlier lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Finn was on the phone with you when he got distracted and crashed!” she screamed. “And you’re using this to threaten him? Are you even human?!” Audrey’s face was grim as she put a hand on my shoulder. “Quinn, Finn and I are just colleagues. If you really don’t believe me, I can quit. But you can’t do this to him. He only has you in his heart.” My cheek stung. I violently shook her hand off. “Who asked you to speak?” I walked back to Finn’s bedside. “If you don’t sign, you can wait for the hospital to kick you out.” Tears streamed from Finn’s open eye. “Why?” I looked at him, my voice heavy. “Because you disgust me.” Finn’s sobs grew more intense, his chest heaving. “I won’t sign. I’d rather die than sign. I love you, Quinn. I haven’t done anything to betray you. I already bought the tickets to Aspen. You said you wanted to go skiing…” A few of the younger women in the room started to cry. A pang of pain shot through my own chest, but it was fleeting. Gritting my teeth, I held the papers out again. “Sign.” Audrey snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds. “Quinn! How could you? He just got out of surgery! Even if you want a divorce, you can’t do it like this!” I shot her a venomous glare. Before I could speak, Finn intervened. “Audrey, don’t talk to her like that. It’s my fault. I haven’t been a good husband.” He weakly reached out and tugged at the hem of my shirt. I instinctively took a step back. “Don’t touch me.” Finn’s face grew even paler. “I’m not divorcing you over something so trivial. I already requested my vacation time to spend with you…” Audrey stepped forward again. “I’ll just resign when I get back to the office. My conscience is clear. There is absolutely nothing going on between us.” Her righteous declaration instantly painted me as the hysterical, unreasonable wife. The others glared at me with indignation. I suddenly found the whole scene absurdly funny, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “You’re right. There’s nothing between you. I just don’t want to be married anymore, okay?” Finn looked at me, tears streaming silently down his face. “Quinn, whatever it is, can we please just talk about it after he’s recovered? I’m begging you,” Audrey pleaded, her voice low and earnest. I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Finn. “Sign, or I walk out of here right now. Your choice.” The woman who had slapped me lunged forward again, but someone held her back. “Are you a monster?! He just cheated death! How can you provoke him like this?!” “It’s his life,” I said, my voice calm, almost bored. “It has nothing to do with me.” Finn started coughing violently, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Audrey quickly pressed the call button. A nurse hurried in, frowning at the scene. “The patient needs to rest. Family members, please control your emotions.” A dead silence fell over the room. Finn stared at me through clenched teeth, but he still didn’t give in. “I’m calling our parents,” I said. “Do what you want.” With that, I turned and walked out. I walked in a daze until I found myself at the funeral home where Finn worked. “Are you Quinn?” An older man I didn’t recognize approached me. “You know me?” I asked. He scratched his head, hesitating. “Mr. Harris has a picture of you as his phone’s wallpaper. I’ve seen it.” I forced a smile. “Can you show me where Finn usually works?” He sighed. “Come on, I’ll take you.” The room was cold. I looked around, tapping on surfaces, and accidentally kicked a lighter. It was a brand I’d once mentioned to Finn. I remembered Audrey having one just like it. The older man spoke up. “Last night, Finn really was handling an emergency. I shouldn’t be meddling, but he’s a good man.” I didn’t say anything. My phone rang. It was Finn’s colleague. “Quinn! Where the hell are you? Both of your parents are here! Get your ass back to the hospital!” “Did you hear me?!” I clutched the lighter, my heart a frozen wasteland. When I got back to the hospital, both sets of parents were there, their faces grim. The moment I walked in, my father slapped me.

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My life at thirty was a train wreck. I quit my job after being passed over for a promotion, and my CEO boyfriend and I broke up right after he proposed. I couldn’t even face going home for the holidays. Then, on the darkest day of my life, I met my eighteen-year-old self. I thought she’d be utterly disappointed in me. Instead, she shrieked with excitement. “You’re so rich you can just buy whatever you want!” “Oh my god, you even slept with a guy that hot!” “You’re so awesome! Wait, no, I’m so awesome!” “Future Me, are you living the dream or what?” 01 The biggest fight of our lives erupted right after my CEO boyfriend, Dominic, proposed. “You knew who I was from the start, didn’t you?” he said, his voice cold. “Failing to get that promotion is about your performance. What does that have to do with me?” The absurdity of it stole my breath. How could it not have to do with him? Everyone at the company knew office relationships were forbidden territory. To protect his authority, I had agreed to be a ghost, pretending we were practically strangers even if we ran into each other right outside the office building. But him? My voice trembled with rage. “Dominic, when you made a show of having lunch with Isabelle in the company cafeteria, or when you took walks with her, did you ever once think about keeping your distance?” “Why do you think the senior managers gave Isabelle such high marks? Because they saw you two were close! They thought she was the one you were grooming, and they were all trying to kiss up to you!” Dominic’s brow furrowed, as if my logic was completely alien to him. “You’re being ridiculous. We’re colleagues. I can’t just ignore her, can I?” I sucked in a sharp breath, the air cold in my lungs. “The whole company is whispering that you’re promoting Isabelle, and you’ve said nothing. Meanwhile, I’m your fiancée, and I have to hide in the shadows like a thief.” “I landed our most difficult clients. I pulled all-nighters for weeks to meet the company’s core targets this year. My KPIs were double what was expected. And for what?” He shot back, his voice just as sharp. “I didn’t pull any strings for anyone. The promotion list was decided by a vote from the senior managers. I gave you a completely level playing field. It’s not my fault you didn’t seize the opportunity.” Staring at his self-righteous expression, the man before me felt like a complete stranger. A horrifying doubt began to creep in. Was it really true he hadn’t cheated? That he hadn’t given her a leg up? Dominic would never tell me. He would never explain, never apologize. “Let’s break up,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “And I’m quitting.” His face turned to stone. Three words escaped his lips, cold and final. “Suit yourself.” 02 The air was brutally cold the day I left Dominic’s apartment. I felt like a complete failure. I was thirty years old. My entire world had been tangled up with Dominic for so long. He had just proposed last month. I’d been at the company for eight years, on the cusp of building a reputation as an expert in my field. In a single night, it was all gone. I wandered the streets like a stray dog, spine ripped out, my eyes hollow and aimless. The clamor of a crowd drew my attention. A fight had broken out. “Hey! Officer! This guy’s drunk and he’s hitting his wife! Right here on the street!” a young voice pierced the noise. People were muttering, “What kind of man hits his wife?” but they all kept a safe distance, a circle of spectators unwilling to get involved. The man, reeking of alcohol, was still shouting. “It’s my right to discipline my wife! Nobody can tell me what to do!” In the center of the chaos, a young girl had a death grip on his arm. She was the one who had called the police and was refusing to let go until they arrived. “This chick’s a total badass,” she yelled. “Scumbags like him should be locked up, and she should divorce him ASAP!” I stood on the periphery with everyone else. My heart ached for the woman, but I wouldn’t step in. I wouldn’t get dragged into that mess. Society, and Dominic, had taught me well. Keep your head down, protect yourself, and mind your own business. But as I looked at the girl through the crowd, my heart skipped a beat, a hard, painful thud. Her face was so young, so defiant, so full of a reckless, beautiful ignorance of the world’s cruelty. It was, unmistakably, my face. At eighteen. As if she felt my gaze, the eighteen-year-old me whipped her head around. Our eyes met, and for a split second, she froze too. After she finished with the police, she rushed over to me. “You… you look just like me. What year is it?” “It’s 2037.” Her young mind processed it in a flash. “Whoa! Holy crap! I time-traveled! So this is what I look like at thirty!” She grabbed my freezing hand, her own full of life, and blurted out, “Future Me! What are the odds?” 03 We compared IDs. We verified family details. Slowly, I accepted the impossible reality. The younger me, whom I’ll call Anna, accepted it instantly. She latched onto me and wouldn’t let go. I never knew I was such a little firecracker at eighteen. She was a chatterbox, her words spilling out in an endless, energetic stream. “So, how much money do you have? Being thirty must be awesome. No more school, right?” “I have some savings, yes. And no more school.” “Wow! Whoa, that coat looks expensive! You’re so capable. Wait, no, I’m so capable.” I didn’t feel capable. I had to find a hotel for the night. I’d given up my old apartment when Dominic and I moved in together. He always said the housing market was unstable and buying wasn’t a smart move, so I still didn’t have a place of my own. My life had become so intertwined with his that now, without him, I was completely adrift. I’m sure Dominic knew that. He was waiting for me to be the first one to break. I was such a failure. The holidays were approaching, and I didn’t want to go home. How could I explain to my parents that the son-in-law they were expecting had vanished into thin air? But Anna was buzzing with excitement. “I’ve never been to a bar! Can you take me? It’s so weird, I just turned legal drinking age and then poof, I’m here!” Looking into her blazing eyes, I swallowed the bitterness of my own life. “Alright, let’s go to a bar. What else do you want to do?” “Ever stayed in a five-star hotel? I’ll take you tonight.” 04 Anna wanted a bar, so I took her to the one Dominic and I used to frequent. It was upscale, quiet, and good for conversation. I ordered Anna my favorite cocktail. Her eyes darted everywhere, filled with a boundless curiosity. “So what’s your boyfriend like?” she asked, the hundredth question in a long series. Just as I was about to give a noncommittal answer, I saw him. Dominic. Sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, a thunderous look on his face. And next to him sat Isabelle. I pointed. “That’s my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, as of today. And he might be cheating on me with the woman next to him.” Anna’s eyes widened. “What the hell? Guys like that exist? I’m gonna go slap him!” I grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Whoa, easy there, my little ancestor. Let it go. He’s a CEO, you can’t just pick a fight with him.” She looked at me in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you living like such a doormat? He’s the one who cheated! He’s the one in the wrong!” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “We already broke up. Besides, they’re just having a drink. There’s no actual proof of anything. What right do I have to make a scene?” “And he’s a CEO,” I continued, “his reputation is everything. If you embarrass him now, he’ll make my life hell later…” “I’m gonna pour this drink all over him right now!” Anna declared. “I’ll demand to know what’s going on! What’s he gonna do, have me arrested? Is there no justice in the world?” It took all my strength to hold her back, to convince her not to do something reckless. I quietly explained the complicated web of our relationship. Dominic was my boss, then he became the CEO. We had been dating in secret. “When I was just starting out, Dominic taught me a lot. He was a mentor and a friend. Keeping it secret was for the best, for both of us.” “If our relationship went public, one of us would have had to leave. I want to stay in this industry, and everyone at the top knows Dominic. I don’t want to burn everything to the ground…” The world never knew. I had never officially stood by his side. Even when we were planning our wedding, there were no plans to go public. In public, we were strangers. While I was talking, Anna was busy snapping pictures and recording a video. “Seriously? That scumbag. So he can’t be seen with you, but he can get cozy with another woman? You’re not going to expose him?” 05 “Wait a second,” Anna said, her voice sharp. “Why is it that if you go public, you’re the one who has to consider quitting? Why doesn’t he step down? Has he brainwashed you completely?” The more she heard, the more she felt something was wrong. The more she saw me as a pushover. She pulled on a face mask, grabbed her cocktail, and, ignoring my protests, strode purposefully towards Dominic. She tipped the glass, pouring the sticky, colorful liquid all over his head. “You absolute scumbag,” she spat. Dominic froze, dripping. “What the…?” I rushed forward and grabbed Anna’s hand. Dominic’s gaze shifted to me, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Is this a friend of yours? Did you put her up to this, to humiliate me in public?” Isabelle, seeing the dangerous glint in Dominic’s eyes, spoke up. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft and trembling. “My name was on the promotion list, and Anna’s friend is just upset for her. It’s only natural.” She bit her lower lip, looking fragile and timid. “But the company’s evaluations are completely fair and impartial. And Mr. Croft and I just happened to run into each other to discuss some work… Anna, how could you resort to such a vulgar tactic?” A sharp crack echoed through the quiet bar, cutting off her saccharine, victim-playing monologue. Anna had lunged forward and slapped Isabelle across the face. “You phony bitch, drop the act! You got what you wanted, so stop pretending to be innocent.” Isabelle shrieked, clutching her reddening cheek, and instinctively tried to shrink into Dominic’s arms for protection. “You… you hit me!” But to everyone’s surprise, Dominic didn’t embrace her. He irritably pulled his sleeve from her grasp and said coldly, “You should go.” Isabelle stared for a moment, then could only nod meekly. But as she turned her back to Dominic, she shot me a look over her shoulder. Her lips were curved into a provocative, victorious smirk. Anna saw it too. Her fury reignited, and she raised her hand to strike again. That’s when Dominic’s voice cut through the air, dangerously stern. “Anna, that’s enough! What’s gotten into you?” He had called out to both of us at once. Anna froze. And I stared at Dominic, my heart pounding. 06 Dominic had the owner clear the bar. I pulled Anna behind me, shielding her. This was the first time I had ever confronted him in public. “Was she wrong?” I demanded. “My performance was the best this year. I brought in the biggest deals. I drank so much for this company that I ended up in the hospital on an IV drip. And Isabelle gets the promotion and still plays the victim.” “And now you two are sitting here, having a drink. Doesn’t that just prove she’s your person? Are you protecting her?” The words were acid in my mouth, burning on their way out. Dominic’s dark eyes stared at me. “Is this promotion really that important? If you marry me, you can have anything you want. Why are you so obsessed with this one title?” “Isabelle’s promotion doesn’t get in your way. Why are you making such an unreasonable scene? If word of this gets out at the office, how am I supposed to maintain my authority?” “You’re thirty years old, not three. Can’t you think about the consequences?” “Then what were you two doing here just now?” I shot back. “Celebrating her promotion? Or celebrating your return to single life, toasting the fact that you can now chase after a younger woman?” He hated hearing things like that. “I am not cheating on you. We were maintaining a perfectly safe distance. Can you please drop your baseless jealousy?” He reached for me. “If you still want to marry me, come home.” He was always so damn commanding. I flinched away from his touch. Anna surged forward, planting herself between us. “Are you out of your mind? You let her get hurt because of some other woman? Why on earth should she marry you?” “And what ‘safe distance’? Have you heard of basic respect? You were practically on top of each other! A man and a woman, drinking alone together. I guess as long as you’re not caught in bed, it’s not cheating, right?” She lunged and slapped him. Caught off guard, he took the full force of it. His clothes were soaked, and now a red handprint was blooming on his cheek. The once-invincible CEO looked utterly pathetic. And through the sharp, stabbing pain in my chest, a laugh bubbled out of me. “Dominic,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I mean it. Thank you for all your guidance in my career over the years. But I don’t want to marry you anymore.” “We’re over.” Leaving him there, a mask of pure shock on his face, I took Anna’s hand and walked away.

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My mother-in-law had a stroke and collapsed, blood pooling on the floor. I calmly grabbed a mop and cleaned the spreading stain. As her son-in-law, I deliberately let the golden six-minute window for stroke intervention pass. In my last life, I was the first to find her. I immediately called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital. But the surgery required a signature from a direct family member. When I called my wife to come and sign, she accused me of being jealous of her time with her first love, convinced it was just a ploy to get her to come home. She refused to sign. My mother-in-law died without receiving timely treatment. My wife, Jessica, missed her mother’s final moments and pinned all the blame on me. When I wasn’t looking, she attacked me with a kitchen knife, hacking me to death. “This is all your fault! My mom was so old, and you, her son-in-law, couldn’t even take care of her! Since you failed your duty to her in life, you can go to hell and continue serving her there!” I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day my mother-in-law collapsed. … My eyes snapped open again, and there she was, lying on the floor. I’ve had a severe fear of blood since I was a child. My first instinct was to call my wife. But as I unlocked my phone, the memory of her slashing at me with that knife flooded my mind, vivid and inescapable. The phantom pain was still there. My finger froze. I stopped myself from calling Jessica and dialed her cousin, Rebecca, instead. She picked up almost immediately. “Honey, you have to come home! Mom fell, she’s bleeding from her head, there’s so much blood! What do I do? You know I can’t handle blood, please, come back quick!” I feigned panic, pretending I’d dialed the wrong number, my voice thick with a desperate, choked sob. “Don’t panic, I’m on my way,” Rebecca said, her voice calm and steady. Her house was close, less than a ten-minute walk away. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I threw it open, putting on a look of surprise. “Rebecca? I… I thought I called Jessica.” She didn’t explain, just told me to pick up my mother-in-law and follow her. By the time we reached the hospital, the blood had soaked through my shirt. “Who’s the patient’s next of kin? It’s an emergency, we need a signature from a direct relative!” a nurse rushed out of the ER, clutching a critical condition notice. “I’m her son-in-law, I’ll sign.” “No, it has to be a direct blood relative.” She then looked at Rebecca. “I’m her niece,” Rebecca explained. The nurse frowned. “Does the patient have any other family?” “Nurse, please, just start the surgery. I’ll contact the next of kin,” I pleaded. The nurse hesitated, then rushed back into the ER with the form. Right there, in front of Rebecca, I pulled out my phone and called my wife. The first call went to voicemail. The second call, the same. The third call finally connected. I put it on speaker, and Jessica’s impatient voice filled the hallway. “What is your problem? Are you trying to die? Stop calling me!” “Jessica, Mom fell. She’s bleeding a lot, and they need a signature from a direct relative. You need to get to Peace Memorial Hospital now!” The same cold indifference as last time. The image of her wielding that knife flashed in my mind, and my gaze turned to ice, but I kept up the act. Jessica shrieked into the phone. “If Mom fell, you take her to the hospital! Why are you calling me? I’m not a doctor! You know I’m with Ryan, so you’re just jealous and making this up, aren’t you? Well, it won’t work! Are you completely useless? Can’t you survive for five minutes without me?” Then, a soft male voice murmured in the background. “Jess, I’m scared…” Before I could say another word, she hung up. The strangers in the hallway were looking at me with pity. I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white, forcing a bitter smile. Rebecca was furious, pacing back and forth in front of the ER. “Call her again!” she snapped. “I refuse to believe some man is more important than her own mother!” It was just like my past life, except last time, I had hidden in a stairwell to make the calls alone. This time, everyone here was my witness. I did as she said, dialing again in front of everyone. This time, it rang twice before being disconnected. When I tried again, I found she had blocked my number. On the outside, I looked devastated. Inwardly, a massive wave of relief washed over me. I collapsed onto a hallway chair. Rebecca kicked a nearby chair in frustration, then pulled out her own phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Jessica’s number. I looked up at her, my face a mask of gratitude. The call connected instantly. Rebecca didn’t waste a second. “Jessica, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing! Get your ass to Peace Memorial Hospital! Now!” The background on her end was noisy, like a party. “Becca? Wow, that Mark is really something else. He actually got you in on his little drama? I expect this nonsense from him, but you too? I’m busy right now, I don’t have time for these games! Every single time I come to see Ryan, he pulls a stunt like this, making up excuses to get me to come home. And this time he dragged you into it! Can’t he be independent for once? I have to go, bye!” Before Rebecca could get another word in, Jessica hung up. Rebecca stared at her phone, stunned, then began dialing again and again. But all she got was the cold, robotic voice of the service provider. She went from anger to helplessness to pure disappointment. Finally, Jessica blocked Rebecca’s number too. Rebecca couldn’t contain her rage any longer, screaming curses at the silent phone. I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In reality, I was hiding the smile I couldn’t suppress. A nurse from the main desk sighed, walking over with a sympathetic look. She handed me her phone. “Here, try mine. A life is on the line.” I took it, looking at her with profound thanks. The call went through. The moment Jessica heard my voice, she exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you? If you want to die so badly, just do it! Can’t you live without me? The sound of your voice makes me sick! We’re getting a divorce as soon as I get back. I can’t take this anymore, you pathetic idiot!” She slammed the phone down. The pity from the onlookers had now curdled into anger. “What’s the point of having a daughter like that? Her own mother is dying, and she’s off with her side piece!” “What a disgrace to women. Disgusting.” When you’re hurting, you can swallow any amount of pain as long as no one sees. But the moment someone shows you a shred of kindness, the dam breaks. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. A man who had been watching the whole spectacle handed me a business card. I glanced at it: Arthur Wallace, Divorce Attorney. I discreetly slipped the card into my pocket. After what felt like an eternity, the light above the operating room finally went out. The doctor emerged, pulling off her mask with a weary sigh. She looked at Rebecca and me and shook her head. “She was too old, and she lost too much blood. We did everything we could.” She didn’t say another word, just walked past us. The funeral should have been arranged by Jessica, but Rebecca forbade anyone from contacting her. “That ungrateful child doesn’t deserve to be called my aunt’s daughter. It’s a tragedy my aunt loved that monster her whole life, only to raise a viper!” Rebecca’s eyes were blazing with a fire she could barely control. She was the most respected and capable person in the family, so no one argued. So, Rebecca and I made the arrangements. Just when I thought Jessica wouldn’t show, she did. It was the day of the burial. We were all gathered, about to leave for the cemetery, when Jessica’s furious roar came from the doorway. “Mark, get your ass out here! Who gave you the right to do this? You’re so desperate to trick me into coming back that you got everyone to lie for you? Fine! You’ve really outdone yourself!” The moment I saw her, the paralyzing terror of my death in the last life washed over me. I clutched the funeral portrait of her mother, my body shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down my face. “Have you lost your mind?” Rebecca screamed, stepping in front of me. “We called you over and over again! And what did you say? You were with that worthless man and refused to listen! And now you show up and put on this act for who? Get out! Our family doesn’t have a monster like you! Get out!” It was the first time I’d ever seen Rebecca so furious. “Becca, what has he done to you all?” Jessica cried. “What poison has he fed you to make you all lie to me like this? No, I have to ask my mom. I need to know what she was thinking, going along with this ridiculous charade!” She started shouting for her mom, looking around wildly. Rebecca closed her eyes and let out a deep, pained sigh. She carefully placed the urn on the altar, then strode over to Jessica, grabbing her and dragging her in front of it. “Kneel! You were looking for your mother? She’s in there! How ignorant, how stupid can you be to think we’re all lying to you? How dare you!” Rebecca was so emotional that her husband, David, tried to calm her, placing a hand on her arm. But he seemed to freeze, then awkwardly pulled his hand away. Jessica stared at the urn on the altar, then at the portrait in my hands, and collapsed to the floor. She clawed at her hair, sobbing hysterically. Suddenly, her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto me with a venomous glare. She lunged at me like a wild animal, screaming. “It’s all your fault! My mom was so old, and you, her son-in-law, couldn’t even take care of her! Since you failed your duty to her in life, you can go to hell and continue serving her there! Die! Die! Die!” I was caught completely off guard. Her hands closed around my throat, squeezing with terrifying strength. A woman in a rage is a fearsome thing. Even as a grown man, I couldn’t break her grip. Just as my vision started to black out, the pressure on my neck released. I scrambled away, gasping for air. Rebecca and another man had pulled Jessica off me. I shakily wiped the tears from my eyes. Rebecca slapped Jessica hard across the face. “Snap out of it!” But Jessica was seeing red. She was about to lunge at Rebecca when her phone rang. The ringtone was a custom recording of Ryan’s voice. It was his unique caller ID. It was clear how much she loved him. Even in this state of pure rage, she calmed down enough to answer his call. “Hello? Okay. I’m on my way. Don’t be scared.” She hung up and started for the door.

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While tidying up, I found the newly bought pack of sanitary pads had been opened. Without a moment’s hesitation, I had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and send them to Alexander Prescott. His call came almost immediately. “Another tantrum? What’s it this time?” I bit my lip, my voice cold. “A pad is missing from the pack in my drawer.” “Fine. Have it your way,” Alexander’s voice was a cocktail of anger and impatience. “Just don’t come crawling back when you regret it!” The line went dead. Regret? Never. My only regret was being blind for so long, and allowing the woman who once took the business world by storm to suffer years of humiliation. … I was packing my suitcase when Isabelle ran in, tears streaming down her face. She was Alexander’s current assistant, and his first love, the one that got away. “Sera, I’m so sorry. I came by to drop off some files for Alex the other day, and I got my period unexpectedly. I just borrowed one of your pads,” she sobbed. “I never thought it would cause such a misunderstanding. Please, don’t divorce him. If you do, I’ll never be able to clear my name.” Listening to her half-hearted apology, a cold smile touched my lips. “If I don’t divorce him, how am I supposed to make room for you?” Isabelle’s voice hitched. “Sera, how can you say that? I never wanted to interfere in your marriage, I…” “You didn’t want to,” I cut her off, “or you couldn’t?” Years ago, when the Prescott family was searching for a bride for Alexander among the city’s elite debutantes, Isabelle, as the illegitimate daughter of the Miller family, was the first to be dismissed. Now, seven years later, the Miller family was bankrupt. Her return was only possible under the guise of being his assistant, a way to get close to him again. Isabelle cried even more pitifully. “If you won’t believe me, then I’ll just resign, alright?” “Suit yourself.” I threw Alexander’s earlier words back at her and went back to my packing, ignoring her completely. In the two years since Isabelle joined the company, I’d threatened divorce as many times as she’d threatened to quit. Now that the divorce was real, she was still playing the same old card: feigning retreat to gain sympathy. Alexander had long grown tired of my “jealous antics,” yet he remained utterly defenseless against her damsel-in-distress act. “Sera, please don’t go. Please don’t divorce Alex,” she cried, her voice tragic and innocent. She grabbed my arm, shaking it dramatically like some heroine in a soap opera. “Hit me, if it will make you feel better. Just please, stop being angry.” With that, she pulled my hand towards her own face. I watched her clumsy performance, my brow furrowed as I began a silent countdown. Ten, nine, eight… Before I even reached seven, Alexander’s frantic figure burst into the room. “Stop it!” he roared at me. “Seraphina, you’ve gone too far!” “Isabelle was our classmate, for God’s sake! How could you hit her?” Just like every other time, Alexander arrived right on cue, convicting me without a trial. I shook my head and gave a bitter laugh. His hero-saving-the-damsel routine was certainly getting more polished. I set down my luggage and rose slowly. First, I turned to Alexander. “If your eyes are failing you, Alex, make an appointment with an optometrist.” “Hit her? I wouldn’t want to dirty my hands.” “You…” His own words caught in his throat. I then turned to Isabelle. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t hear a knock, nor did I get up to open the door.” I stared directly into her eyes. “So, please tell me, how did you get in?” Her face went pale, and she stumbled, nearly falling. A strong arm caught her by the waist. Alexander steadied her, his voice laced with concern, before turning back to me with a glare. “Isabelle is my assistant. I gave her the password to the door for work. What, are you going to nitpick about every little thing now?” His eyes were filled with contempt. “Your jealousy is suffocating, Seraphina.” The word hit me like a lightning strike. I stood frozen. He thought I was suffocating? Wasn’t the suffocating part the way Isabelle had infiltrated our marriage over the past two years, with his silent approval and indulgence? It was invasive, and it knew no bounds. It started with dropping off files, then moved to casually staying for dinner, then overnight. Using my personal clothes without asking, taking my sanitary pads. The list of “little things” was endless. Our marriage for two had become a movie for three. And I was the extra. I blinked back the tears and looked up at Alexander. “Since this marriage is causing both of us so much pain, let’s just sign the papers and end it.” He frowned, pushing the divorce agreement aside. “Alright, stop making a scene.” “Apologize to Isabelle, and we’ll let this go. We can all still be good friends.” Hearing the word “friends” from his mouth again dredged up a flood of painful memories. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I, Seraphina Vaughn, would rather die alone than be friends with someone who bullied me!” An apology? Not in this lifetime. Back in school, I had hidden my family’s wealth to try and fit in. That decision made me a target for Isabelle. On the first day, she threw my books and backpack into a filthy pond behind the school. My uniform pants were slashed with a knife. Later, under pressure from my family, the school forced Isabelle to make a public apology and was about to expel her. It was Alexander who convinced me. “Come on, Sera. Let it go. She knows she was wrong, just forgive her.” Blinded by my love for him, I endured the humiliation, shook her hand, and even asked the school to let her stay. Looking back, his bias towards her started back then. I was just too in love to see it. Isabelle’s face grew even paler, tears falling like broken pearls. “I was wrong. I overstepped. I shouldn’t have presumed on our past friendship to try and be your friend.” Her voice was a pathetic whisper. “I forgot that I’m just a lowly employee at your company now. I’m worthless. I’ll leave.” Alexander’s eyes instantly reddened. He pulled Isabelle behind him, shielding her as he yelled at me. “I gave you the title of Mrs. Prescott so you could have dignity, not so you could bully people!” He turned back to Isabelle, patting her trembling shoulder. “Don’t say that about yourself, Isabelle. In my heart, you’ve never been just an employee.” He gazed at the fragile woman before him, his eyes burning with passion. “You have always been the most special person to me.” Watching my legal husband declare his undying love for another woman, I didn’t fly into a rage as I usually would. I just felt a deep, chilling cold. With her degree from some no-name university abroad, Isabelle was nowhere near qualified to be the assistant to the CEO of Prescott Corp. It was Alexander who had overruled everyone to keep her. He gave her an unheard-of salary and a unique brand of favoritism, one that pushed his own wife to the sidelines. She called him “Mr. Prescott” but called me by my first name. She claimed it was a sign of closeness, but it was clear she thought I wasn’t worthy of the Mrs. Prescott title. I could handle her thinking that, but I never imagined Alexander felt the same way. The absurdity of it all was laughable. Me, the sole heiress of Vaughn Industries, needing the “Mrs. Prescott” title to throw my weight around? The regret for the proud woman I had lost to love was sharp and painful. In that moment, the last flicker of hope for my marriage was extinguished. “Alexander, sign the divorce papers soon,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Don’t force me to take this to court.” With that, I picked up my suitcase and walked out without a backward glance. When I walked through the door of my family home, my parents were excitedly watching a travel show about the Northern Lights. They quickly turned off the TV when they saw me. Traveling the world had always been their dream, but their only daughter was a fool for love, so obsessed with a man that she refused to come home and take over the family business. I walked over, took the remote out of the drawer, and turned the TV back on. Then I pulled out my phone and booked two tickets to Finland. But they didn’t smile with the surprise I expected. They just looked at me with worry in their eyes. I knew I couldn’t hide it. “We’re… getting a divorce,” I said, the words falling into the sudden silence of the vast living room. After a long moment, my parents came over and gently took my hands. “Whatever you decide, we support you. We just want you to be happy.” “Your mother and I are always your safety net.” My eyes welled up, and the years of pent-up sorrow came pouring out with my tears. They had been against my marriage to Alexander from the start, but they had relented because of my desperate pleas. I squeezed my father’s hand and then took my mother’s, our three hands clasped together. I forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” They weren’t convinced. They insisted I change my flight from the next day to a week later, so they could spend more time with me. At their suggestion, I booked a family portrait session, an annual tradition that had always been the highlight of our year. After marrying Alexander, I had invited him many times, but he always declined, citing work. The next morning, we arrived at the photo studio early, only to see a familiar figure: Alexander. Isabelle was with him. She was leaning on his shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “Alex, thank you for canceling that important meeting to come take pictures with me.” Alexander smiled and gently tapped her nose. “You silly girl. You’re the most important person to me. Who else would I spoil?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. So, it was never about being busy. It was about me not being worthy of his time. “Sera, what are you looking at?” my mother asked. “Nothing, I thought I saw someone I knew,” I said, turning to block her view and guiding her away. Inside the studio, I held my father’s hand on one side and linked arms with my mother on the other, smiling like a carefree child. Click! The photographer captured the warm, happy moment. In that instant, I felt reborn. I had found what was most important in my life again. “Oh,” my mother had just stepped out to use the restroom when my father suddenly clutched his stomach, his face contorted in pain. “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach again?” I helped him to a nearby lounge and simultaneously called our family doctor and 911. While we waited for the ambulance, Isabelle appeared. “So this is why you were so willing to divorce Alex,” she sneered. “You found yourself a new sugar daddy.” Her greedy eyes scanned my father from head to toe. “This old geezer might have some class, but he’s ancient. He’s nothing compared to Alex.” She clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. I’m impressed you can even bring yourself to touch him for money.” My father understood immediately who she was, the woman who had destroyed my marriage. He struggled to get up, to defend my honor, but a sharp pain sent him collapsing back onto the sofa. Seeing my father’s agony, I snapped. I marched over to her and slapped her hard across the face. CRACK! “Watch your filthy mouth,” I snarled. “That’s my father!”

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I was born with “pain transference.” My specialty is weaponized empathy. Whatever pain someone fakes in my presence, they feel for real. When a two-faced girl pretended I pushed her and cried about how much it hurt, the next second, she was screaming as if every bone in her body had shattered. When a con artist threw herself in front of my car, wailing that her back was broken, her vertebrae instantly dislocated, paralyzing her on the asphalt. Over time, people learned to treat me with a healthy dose of fear. No one dared to fake an illness or play the victim in my vicinity. Until, for the sake of a family merger, I was engaged to a brilliant, aloof maestro of surgery. At our engagement party, his “little sister” from med school clutched her stomach, her face slick with cold sweat as she cried. In front of the city’s medical elite, she clung to my fiancé’s sleeve and whimpered: “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The elegant ballroom fell silent. My fiancé removed his gloves. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait.” “A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” The champagne flute in my hand paused mid-air. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead.” “Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” 1 For the sake of a dynastic union, I was engaged to Dr. Julian Barclay, a brilliant and aloof surgical prodigy. He was the youngest chief surgeon in the medical community, his future limitless. Our two families were titans, and the engagement party was a lavish affair. Everyone who was anyone in the city was there. I stood in the center of the grand hall, wearing a couture gown, my arm linked with Julian’s. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Just as we were about to exchange engagement rings, the doors were thrown open. A frail girl in a white dress stumbled in. It was Monica, Julian’s junior from medical school. Her face was as white as her dress. Clutching her stomach, she rushed towards us. In front of hundreds of guests, she grabbed Julian’s sleeve, tears instantly streaming down her face, her skin glistening with a cold sweat. “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The entire hall fell silent. Every eye was fixed on the three of us. I looked at Monica’s pathetic, damsel-in-distress act and sneered inwardly. Stomach cancer? Just yesterday, I saw her post a picture on Instagram of herself devouring a spicy hot pot. Today, she was having a terminal cancer flare-up? Julian’s cool, indifferent expression shattered. He didn’t hesitate to pull his arm from mine, turning to support Monica. “Monica, what happened? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Monica sagged into his arms, breathing weakly. “Julian, I know today is a big day for you. I didn’t want to bother you. But it hurts so much, I feel like I’m going to die. I just wanted to see you one last time.” Her speech was so heartfelt, so moving, that a few of the guests actually started dabbing their eyes. Julian’s own eyes reddened. He pulled the engagement ring, the one meant for me, from his finger and tossed it unceremoniously onto a nearby table. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait. A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” He didn’t even offer me an apology before sweeping Monica into his arms, ready to leave. I paused, my champagne flute held steady. I watched Monica, nestled in his embrace, shoot me a triumphant, provocative smirk. Fine. You want to play games? I swirled the champagne in my glass and spoke, my voice calm and deliberate. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead. Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” Julian stopped in his tracks and glared at me. “Seraphina, what the hell are you talking about? Monica is already so sick, and you’re cursing her? How can you be so vicious?” The moment he finished speaking, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from Monica’s throat. “AAAAAHHH!” The sound was so piercing it seemed to shatter the crystal chandeliers. Monica thrashed out of Julian’s arms, crashing to the floor. She curled into a ball, clutching her stomach like a boiled shrimp, her white dress instantly soaked with sweat. She writhed on the ground, her head banging against the marble. “It hurts! It hurts so much! Somebody help me! My stomach is exploding! My insides are on fire!” She screamed, clawing at her own belly, her nails digging bloody furrows into her skin. Julian was horrified. He dropped to his knees, trying to restrain her. “Monica! What’s wrong?” Lost to the pain, Monica bit down hard on his wrist. Julian grunted in pain but refused to let her go. He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Seraphina! What did you do to her?” I stood my ground, looking down on them. “What could I do? Didn’t she say she has terminal stomach cancer? This is what a flare-up looks like. Surely a great doctor like you would know that.” The guests began to whisper. “That girl’s screams… they don’t sound fake.” “Could she really have terminal cancer?” “How tragic.” Julian no longer had time to argue with me. Monica’s eyes were rolling back in her head, foam flecked her lips, and her breathing grew ragged. “Monica, hang on! I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” Ignoring the bite on his wrist, he scooped her up and ran for the door. At the threshold, he turned back, his gaze pinning me. “Seraphina, if anything happens to Monica, I will make you pay.” I just smiled coldly and drained my champagne. “Let’s be clear, Julian. You’re the one who publicly abandoned me for another woman. As of now, our engagement is void. You’re not breaking it off. I am.” Julian froze for a second, then snarled, “Fine! I wouldn’t want a cold-blooded woman like you anyway!” And with that, he was gone. Dead silence filled the ballroom. Everyone stared at me. I set down my glass, walked onto the stage, and took the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies, but the engagement party is canceled. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy the rest of the evening. It’s all on my tab.” Then, I gathered the skirt of my gown and walked out, leaving a sea of stunned faces behind me. I knew with absolute certainty: Monica was a dead woman. My power of pain transference had never once failed. If she dared to fake terminal cancer, I would make her experience it for real. Magnified by ten. 2 Julian rushed Monica to his own hospital, City Central, straight into the emergency room. Her screams echoed through the entire ER. He pulled some strings and ordered an emergency full-body CT scan. He stood in the control room, his eyes glued to the monitor. When the images appeared, the attending physician gasped. “Dr. Barclay… this… this is impossible!” Julian shoved the doctor aside. On the screen was a massive, irregularly bordered tumor in her stomach. But that wasn’t all. Her liver, lungs, even her bones were riddled with metastatic lesions. It was real. Stage-four stomach cancer, spread throughout her entire body. Incurable. Julian’s legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed. “How can this be? She had a full physical just last month at this very hospital. All her markers were normal!” The physician sighed. “The images don’t lie. With this level of metastasis, she has three months to live, at most.” From the ER, Monica’s screams continued unabated. They gave her painkiller after painkiller, but even the highest dose of morphine couldn’t touch the pain. She had ripped the bedsheets to shreds. Julian burst into her room, grabbing her hand. “Monica, don’t be afraid. I’m the best surgeon there is. I will save you!” Ignoring the other doctor’s advice, he scheduled an emergency surgery. He was going to open her up and cut the tumor out himself. The operating light flickered on. Julian scrubbed in, scalpel in hand. The moment he made the first incision, he despaired. Her abdominal cavity was filled with cancerous fluid and nodules. Her stomach was a necrotic, pulpy mess. There was nothing to cut, nowhere to start. His celebrated surgical skill was a joke. Julian’s hands began to tremble, and the scalpel clattered to the floor. He leaned against the operating table, buried his face in his hands, and broke down sobbing. Meanwhile, I had returned to the Vance family estate. The moment I walked in, a teacup flew past my head, shattering at my feet. My father was on the sofa, his face crimson with rage. “You insolent girl! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Calling off the engagement in front of all those people! What about the Barclay family’s dignity? What about our family’s dignity?” I looked at him coldly. “Julian abandoned me for another woman. Did you want me to get on my knees and beg him to stay?” My father slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “She was a patient! Julian is a doctor! Saving lives is his duty! Not only did you show no understanding, you said those vicious things! You will go to the hospital right now, apologize to Julian, and apologize to that girl!” I stood my ground. “No.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “If you don’t go, you are no longer my daughter!” When I still didn’t move, he clutched his chest, his body swaying. “You… you’re trying to kill me! Oh, my heart… I think I’m having a heart attack!” He collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. My mother rushed to his side, then turned to me. “Seraphina! Are you trying to give your father a heart attack?” I looked at my father’s clumsy performance and sneered. He got a full physical twice a year; his heart was as strong as an ox. And now he was pulling this stunt to make me back down. I walked over to the sofa. “A heart attack, is it? It’s very painful. Are you sure you want one?” My father faltered for a second, then cried out even louder. “You ungrateful child! You really are giving me a heart attack!” I nodded. “Alright. As you wish.” Instantly, the color drained from my father’s face. His eyes flew open, his hands clawing at his chest. His lips, once ruddy, turned a sickening shade of blue. He gasped, but no sound came out, only a rattling in his throat. He tumbled off the sofa, his body convulsing on the floor. My mother was stunned. “Honey? Honey, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me!” My father’s eyes had rolled back. He was unconscious. I calmly took out my phone and dialed 911. “Yes, Vance Estate. We have a case of acute myocardial infarction. Bring a defibrillator. Hurry.” Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics performed CPR on the spot. “No heartbeat! Charging! Clear!” Thump! My father’s body arched off the floor. It took three shocks to get a faint, thready pulse. The paramedics, sweating, loaded him onto a gurney. “Family needs to come now! We could lose him any second!” My mother followed, crying. As she left, she shot me a look of pure terror. She had suddenly remembered my terrifying “gift,” my “crow’s beak” that had followed me since childhood. The house fell silent. The maids hid in corners, not daring to breathe. I sat on the sofa and poured myself a cup of tea. Faking an illness? In my presence, no one gets away with it.

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While I was trying on wedding dresses, my boyfriend, Ryan Sterling, told me he was too busy to join me. But then, I turned around and saw him in the bridal shop, helping another woman try on gowns. “This is Amelia Thorne, a neighbor I grew up with. She’s getting married soon too, so I’m just helping her pick out a dress.” I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t make a scene. I knew he disliked it when I did. Late that night, his phone rang. “Amelia’s fiancé suddenly ran off. I need to go check on her.” He ignored my pleas to stay and left, abandoning me, who was terrified of the dark, without a second thought. Twenty minutes later, he called. “Scarlett, I have to marry Amelia first. If she’s unmarried and pregnant, she’ll be shamed.” “She’ll divorce me after the baby is born. Our wedding will just be postponed by a year, that’s all.” If that’s how it is, then you go and marry your Amelia. I won’t wait. 1 “Ms. McKay, this gown looks absolutely stunning on you.” The bridal consultant gushed, practically climbing over herself to praise me, clearly desperate for me to choose their boutique. “Ms. McKay, when will the groom be joining us? Would he like to try on the matching tuxedo?” “He’s busy today, maybe another time,” I replied, trying to keep a cheerful facade. I’d called my fiancé, Ryan Sterling, several times, but he’d either said he was swamped or simply stopped answering. Changing into another gown at a different boutique, I emerged from the dressing room, only to hear Ryan’s voice. “Amelia, you look absolutely gorgeous in this dress.” That genuine, heartfelt praise… it had been so long since I’d heard anything like that from Ryan. He turned, seeing me, and his expression flickered, a complex mix I couldn’t quite decipher. “Ryan, you said you were busy. Who is this? Are you… trying on wedding dresses?” I kept my voice level, the anger and questions bubbling just beneath the surface. “This is Amelia Thorne, a neighbor I grew up with,” he explained, a little too quickly. “She’s also getting married soon, so I’m just helping her pick out a dress.” “You said you were swamped,” I pressed. “I just finished up, then came over. What, do you think I’m lying to you?” A few other customers and consultants started whispering, their eyes darting our way. “Just go home, Scarlett. I’ll explain everything later tonight.” I went home and waited, but he didn’t return until late evening. “I’m going to throw these clothes straight into the washer. They’re a bit dirty.” He always just tossed his dirty laundry on the sofa for me to deal with, but tonight, he was unusually particular. “I’m going to shower quickly, I’ll be right out.” I noticed the bareness of his neck and couldn’t help but ask, “Where’s that good luck charm I got for you?” “Oh, I don’t know, it must have fallen off somewhere. You can just get another one, can’t you?” He looked away, evasive, before ducking into the bathroom. When I pulled his shirt from the washing machine, it reeked of strong perfume – the exact scent I’d smelled on that woman this afternoon. There was even half a lipstick print on the collar. When Ryan emerged from the bathroom, he saw the shirt in my hand and his face clouded. “What, are you starting to interrogate me now?” “Were the perfume and lipstick from that woman this afternoon? What exactly is your relationship with her?” Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to be so direct, because he froze for a moment. “She was trying on dresses this afternoon, we bumped into each other. What else is there to say?” he scoffed. “Or do you think I’m messing around behind your back?” As he spoke, he snatched the shirt and threw it onto the sofa. A glass of water was knocked to the floor with no warning, shattering into a thousand pieces. One shard, as if by cruel design, sliced my arm. Blood slowly seeped out. “Why are you so careless? Can’t you even avoid broken glass? Always so clumsy.” 2 His words were nothing but blame, devoid of any concern, just like every other time. “Could you… get me some antiseptic and a bandage, please?” “I don’t know where those things are. Just do it yourself.” With that, he swaggered over to the sofa and plopped down. I’d taken such good care of him these past few years that he’d become utterly useless. By the time I’d cleaned and bandaged my wound and returned to the sofa, his phone rang. “I have to go out. Amelia’s fiancé just ran off.” He made to rush out, but I grabbed his arm. “Please don’t go. Doesn’t she have other friends? Does it have to be you? It’s so late, and I’m scared to be alone. You know I hate the dark.” He didn’t even glance at me, forcefully batting my hand away. His hand landed exactly on my freshly bandaged wound. Blood immediately began to soak through. He frowned, looking at it briefly. “Things have priorities, Scarlett. If you’re scared of the dark, just leave the lights on.” Without a backward glance, he slammed the door shut. So, my pain and my fear were just minor inconveniences? I sat on the sofa, waiting, until the middle of the night. Then I started calling him, frantically. It was the twelfth call before he finally picked up. “When are you coming home?” He sighed, an irritated sound, punctuated by Amelia’s faint sobs in the background. “Can you just chill? I’ll come back when this is sorted. Why are you rushing me?” Before I could reply, his tone softened slightly. “Scarlett, our wedding might have to be postponed. I… I have to marry Amelia first.” 3 “Are you joking, Ryan? We’re getting married soon!” “I’m not joking. Wait for me to come home, and I’ll explain.” The news hit me like a bolt of lightning, completely blindsiding me. I didn’t know if he was serious or just playing a cruel joke. I cried and waited for him, eventually drifting off to sleep without him ever coming home. “Scarlett, wake up. I brought you your favorite steamed buns.” Ryan nudged me awake. My eyes, swollen from crying, fixed on him, desperate for an explanation. “Eat first, Scarlett. We’ll talk after you’ve eaten. You’ve been waiting all night, you must be starving.” Ryan was unusually gentle today. He reached out and offered a steamed bun to my mouth – beef. “Ryan, I don’t like beef. I prefer the pork and chive buns from that place.” Four years of chasing him, three years of being together, and he still didn’t know me. “Why are you so picky? I waited in line forever to get these for you, and you’re still complaining?” He picked up the bun and tossed it directly into the trash. “Fine, don’t eat it then.” “Ryan, yesterday… you were just kidding, right?” A glimmer of hope, a desperate wish that it was all just a bad joke. “Scarlett, I was serious yesterday. I’m going to marry Amelia.” “But… we’ve already booked the venue. Why this sudden change?” I grabbed his hand, my voice rising to a frantic pitch. “Scarlett, listen to me. Amelia’s pregnant.” 4 “Is it… your child?” My eyes widened, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. “No, it’s her boyfriend’s. They were supposed to get married, but he just up and left her. If I don’t help her now, she’ll be a laughingstock.” It sounded ridiculous. She was abandoned, so he had to marry her to help her? “Couldn’t you think of any other way?” “Scarlett, it’ll just be a fake marriage. She’ll divorce me after the baby is born. Then we can still get married, it’s just… waiting an extra year, that’s all.” Just one year, he said, so casually. But why should I have to wait an entire year for someone else? “I won’t agree.” “Can you stop being so cold-blooded? We’re only postponing our wedding by a year. If Amelia doesn’t get married, she’ll be shamed.” Ryan was angry and agitated, but couldn’t he hear how absurd he sounded? “Fine. If you don’t agree, then there won’t be any possibility of us getting married, ever. Think it over carefully.” His words were laced with threat, as if he was certain I couldn’t live without him and would inevitably cave. And he was right, in a way. All these years, I’d revolved around him. When we argued, I was always the first to back down. Everyone knew how much I loved him. But now, that very devotion had become his weapon against me. “I still won’t agree.” He ignored my answer and left without another word. “Principal Reynolds, I’m planning to resign. I’ll send my resignation letter to your email shortly.” If his mind was made up, then I wouldn’t cling to him any longer. 5 Principal Reynolds, as usual, asked for my reasons. I told him I wanted to go home and be with my parents. He didn’t press, only reminded me to ensure a smooth handover so the students’ grades wouldn’t be affected. “Don’t worry, Principal. I’ll handle everything.” In a week, tops, I’d be done with the handover and back with my parents. Ryan could marry his Amelia, and no one would stand in his way. Hanging up the phone, I started packing my luggage. It was best to move out of this place as soon as possible. A knock at the door interrupted my packing. When I emerged from the bedroom and opened it, there stood Amelia. “Scarlett, I came to apologize. Can we talk inside?” “No. Say whatever you need to say out here.” If I’d known it was her, I wouldn’t have even opened the door. “Scarlett, Ryan must have told you, I really had no other choice. That’s why he came up with such an idea. Please don’t blame him.” I barely listened to her words, my eyes fixed on the good luck charm around her neck. “Oh, this? Ryan put it on me. He said you specially got it for his safety.” A smug look crossed her face. “He said since I’m pregnant, I really need to stay safe and sound, so he gave it to me. You don’t mind, do you?” I reached up and touched the identical charm around my own neck. How could I not mind? Ryan had fallen seriously ill once, and I was so frantic. I’d knelt for an entire day at the temple to get that charm, wishing only for both of us to be safe. “Whatever. If he wants to give it to you, I can’t stop him.” “Scarlett, do you even know that Ryan doesn’t actually like you?” Her voice held a hint of challenge. She held her phone out, displaying a video. 6 “Ryan, how’s that girlfriend of yours?” “Not great. She’s boring, just cleans and cooks all day, like a housemaid.” “Hahahaha, then why are you even with her? You might as well just hire a maid.” Ryan slung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “It’s just because my parents like her. She’s dutiful, and she’s crazy about me, and she’s pretty enough. I guess I can make it work.” The video ended with a burst of laughter that stung my ears. So, I was just a ‘make-do’ for Ryan, never truly loved. The sadness overwhelmed the anger, and tears, traitorous tears, started to fall. “Scarlett, if I were you, I would have left ages ago. I couldn’t ‘simp’ for someone like that.” She scoffed, mocking me. “Didn’t you know? He’s always liked me, ever since we were kids. If you know what’s good for you, just get lost.” The elevator door chimed open. Amelia suddenly leaned in close, whispered something quickly, then stumbled backward. “Amelia, are you okay?” Ryan rushed out of the elevator. “Ryan, I just wanted to apologize to Scarlett, but she got so agitated and pushed me. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” Amelia leaned into Ryan’s arms, her eyes brimming with tears, looking utterly helpless and pitiful. Ryan immediately scooped her up. Before leaving, he shot me a hateful glare. “Scarlett McKay, I never realized you were so vicious.” 7 I watched them leave, without even the energy to defend myself. I ripped the good luck charm from my neck and threw it into the trash. When I truly started packing, I realized I had a surprising amount of stuff. Two or three hours later, I was only halfway done. Just as I planned to sit down and rest, my phone chimed. It was a video from Ryan. The video was taken by Amelia. It showed Ryan sitting beside her hospital bed, meticulously peeling an orange for her. So Ryan could tolerate the smell of oranges. For three years, because he’d said he didn’t like the scent, I’d never eaten an orange at home. But now, he was peeling one for Amelia with his own hands. A wave of injustice surged through me, uncontrollable. Why did he have to treat me this way? “Scarlett, could you make some home-cooked meals and bring them over? Amelia’s pregnant and can’t eat takeout. And come apologize.” Without waiting for my reply, Ryan quickly hung up. The call lasted only a few seconds. Despite the throbbing in my arm, I cooked a few dishes and packed them. This would be my final repayment to Ryan. Back in my freshman year, I’d been cornered in an alley by some thugs. Ryan had bravely intervened, chasing them off. He’d taken a beating for it. That incident sparked an irrepressible affection in me. Because he’d been my hero, I’d always forgiven him. But now, this was the last time. When I arrived at the hospital, Ryan was gently and carefully combing Amelia’s hair. I remembered how I’d begged him to blow-dry my hair, only for him to burn a large patch of my scalp. He’d just irritably called it a hassle. The contrast was truly laughable. “Scarlett, thank you for making food for me. I really can’t stomach takeout.” Ryan took the food containers and carefully spoon-fed Amelia, bite by bite. “Ugh, why does this taste so awful?”

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I, Vivian, reconciled with Matt Thorne five years after our messy breakup. The last time, it hadn’t been amicable at all. He announced his new girlfriend the very next day after we ended things. This time, he pursued me again, and I said yes. Some say a reformed bad boy is worth more than gold. Others say a broken mirror can never truly reflect again. I say, “There are only three possibilities for a broken mirror to mend: either there was no mirror to begin with, or it was never truly broken, or it was never truly mended. Guess which one I am?” 1 After we got back together, Matt was better than before, or rather, he cared more. He frequently updated his social media with declarations of love, always tagging me. Years ago, I might have thrilled at such grand public displays. Now, I felt a little flat. After all, I wasn’t the first woman to appear on his feed, and perhaps not the last. The same old expressions, the unchanging phrases, the identical sentiments. It was quite uninteresting. I remember when we first started dating, a simple “I love you” from him could send me into raptures. And his “Let’s break up” had kept me awake for nights. I had even prepared to swallow my pride and beg him to take me back, only to wake up the next morning and see his announcement: a photo of intertwined hands against a hotel backdrop. I cried endlessly, lost weight, suffered insomnia, and my hair fell out. I had practically cried myself dry over that relationship, eventually feeling disoriented. To avoid painful memories, I even gave up a good job I’d found locally, leaving my hometown to start afresh alone. The harshness of that breakup was still vivid, so my friends scoffed at my reconciliation with Matt. Whenever they asked about our progress, they couldn’t help but warn me. “Don’t take it too seriously. In this world, whoever gets serious first loses.” “Vivian, there are plenty of other fish in the sea!” “As long as you’re happy.” Honestly, I wasn’t overthinking it. Perhaps I just have a stubborn streak that won’t give up until hitting rock bottom. Regardless, I was walking down this path again, unsure of what lay ahead. 2 I didn’t reply to any of his social media posts, even though I’d seen his tags long ago. In my free time, I’d even ‘like’ posts from some ‘gym bros’ – my feed was full of things that weren’t exactly sophisticated. I was careless, thinking I was browsing on a secondary account, so I felt somewhat unrestrained. Until he commented under one of my likes, “Does he have a better body than me?” and then deleted it instantly. He pretended nothing had happened, maintaining a calm facade, never even mentioning it. He wasn’t like this before. He used to dislike me adding other men on social media, he hated it when others chatted me up, and he was always extremely possessive about my male acquaintances. Once, he even threw a fit because someone brought me food, though I insisted it was just a thank-you. He gave me the cold shoulder for days. Later, I understood that men truly know the darker aspects of other men. But this time, he was surprisingly patient. Though, I suddenly noticed he started spending more time at the gym. He used to go three days a week; this week he’d already been five. One weekend afternoon, while I was scrolling through videos, he suddenly walked up behind me, grabbed my hand, and pressed it against his abs. Then he asked, “How does that feel?” I smiled. So that was it. He wasn’t indifferent; he cared even more, but he’d learned to be discreet, or was willing to change himself to accommodate me. You see, everyone changes in love; it just depends on how much you care. At least, for now, Matt didn’t want to break up. That was the signal he was sending me. I reached out, tracing his abs and waistline, and gave a small nod of approval. “Just wondering if it’s all for show, or if it actually works?” He scooped me up from the balcony and carried me back to the bedroom, disproving my skepticism with his actions. 3 I woke up early the next day, roused by Matt’s commotion in the kitchen. I’d lived alone for so long, I was no longer used to having an extra person around. And his breakfast, as always, was inedible, which only added to my irritation. He looked at me, a little embarrassed, and smiled. “They’re not very familiar with me yet. It’ll be better after I make them a few more times.” Do you understand? He was hinting that he wanted to come over more often. Because last night, I’d hesitated about him staying over, only relenting when I realized his pants were dirty and he truly couldn’t leave. I said nothing. I was still adapting to us being back together, let alone having another person in my daily life. I looked at the burnt bacon on the table, and my thoughts drifted. The day before Matt and I broke up, it was also because of a piece of burnt bacon. I had made two servings of bacon and eggs, one for me, one for him. I was new to cooking, so it wasn’t very good. His boss ate it and rudely made fun of him. Matt texted me, complaining, “Why can’t you even do this one small thing right? I don’t want to talk to you.” At the time, he was a fresh intern, and new graduates often felt a natural reverence and desire to please their superiors. I understood he’d be upset after being publicly ridiculed. I could even accept him not answering my calls all day. It was only when I heard nothing from him all night that I started to panic. He wasn’t a very mature person; he often acted like a difficult little boy around me, but he hated silent treatments. So, then, I wasn’t worried about his anger, but his safety. At three in the morning, he replied: “Let’s break up.” No name, no reason, a sudden, out-of-the-blue breakup. Looking back at the messages from just the day before, it read: “Vivian, my boss praised me! I’ll take you out for a nice meal later!” “Love you, love you! I literally can’t live without you!” “Hehehehe, I’m awesome, right?” How did I feel then? Saying the sky fell wouldn’t be an exaggeration, because I was so, so deeply in love with him. I was still caught in the throes of new love, and at the moment of the breakup, I couldn’t even make any other expression besides bewildered emptiness. That day, I stared out the window, recalling our three years together. I firmly believed that being loved wasn’t an illusion. There must have been some misunderstanding I hadn’t noticed. As the sun burst over the horizon, I resolved to salvage the relationship. I spent the entire night convincing myself not to regret not trying harder. I drafted long speeches in my head, thought of countless apology templates, and even swore I’d never eat bacon again. But just before I left the house, I scrolled through his social media. A photo of intertwined hands against a hotel backdrop, with my initials still clearly visible on his wrist. The caption read: “New beginnings.” I thanked my own hesitation, for not adding more fodder for laughter to his new chapter. 4 I tossed the bacon in the bin. He quickly interjected, “I was just about to throw it away. Burnt food isn’t good for you, after all.” Seeing his cautious demeanor was like looking in a mirror; I saw my past self through him now. Was he as unperturbed then as I was now? I looked at him and smiled, saying, “No, I don’t eat bacon anymore. It makes me sick, and I feel unwell all day.” He pressed his lips together, his eyes and voice already tinged with melancholy when he spoke. I knew that both of us were recalling that burnt bacon from before our breakup. It was no longer just a piece of bacon. For me, it symbolized loss, being broken up with, and abandonment. I watched him stalk into the kitchen, almost defiantly, and dump the entire bag of bacon he’d just bought into the trash. Then, he had to save face with, “Right, cured meats aren’t good for you if you eat too much.” I simply gave him an enigmatic smile. After working in my room for half the day, I came out near noon to find Matt gone. He had ordered food and thoughtfully transferred it from the takeout boxes to plates. A cute sticky note was attached: “You were too focused on work, so I didn’t disturb you. No need to wash up after eating, I’ll be over tonight.” Over again tonight? He was certainly persistent. I picked up the sticky note, took a photo, and casually tossed it into the trash. As the paper dropped into the bin, I suddenly remembered how enthusiastic I used to be about collecting such small tokens of love. I had a notebook filled with excerpts of all the messages we’d exchanged, tucked between countless notes and letters he’d written me, and various pressed leaves. I cherished them as proof of his affection. Later, they became instruments of my torment after the breakup, until I finally burned them myself. 5 Around noon, as I was doing the dishes, Matt texted me, asking if I had eaten. It was then that I realized I hadn’t sent him that photo. I dried my hands, found the picture, and clicked send: “Just ate, thanks for the lovely lunch.” He called me immediately, his tone plaintive. “Forgetting about me because you were busy this morning is one thing, but how could you forget to share with me when you were eating food I prepared?” “You prepared it?” He laughed. “I ordered the takeout and plated it myself. How is that not ‘prepared by me’? Just you wait. Tonight, I have to come over and prepare a feast for you.” I was thinking of how to refuse, as I still felt like I hadn’t fully adjusted to his frequent intrusion into my life. He suddenly remembered something and asked, “Are you busy tonight? Aaron and the guys want to have dinner with you.” Aaron was Matt’s college roommate. We used to be quite close; after all, we’d been together for so long. But after breaking up with Matt, I’d cut off contact with everyone connected to him. I was silent for a while, and Matt, thinking I didn’t want to go, quickly added, “Hmm, if it’s inconvenient, never mind. We’ll find another time to get together.” “Tonight is fine. I’m free. Text me the place.” “Okay, I won’t text you. I’ll pick you up. I’ll be downstairs around 5:30.” At 5:10, I saw his car parked downstairs. He had the window down, smoking, his profile not looking much different from a few years ago. The only difference was that since we’d reconciled, he hadn’t smoked in front of me. I was already ready, but I still sat on the sofa until 5:40 before heading down. The moment he saw me, he immediately extinguished his cigarette. I noticed the empty pack on his dashboard. He hastily explained, “I forgot to check the time. I just thought I’d have a couple of puffs.” I asked him, “Why didn’t you call when you arrived early?” “Once, I came to pick you up early, and you saw me from upstairs. You bounced down the stairs like a little rabbit, so surprised and happy.” He said this, glanced at me, then continued, “I thought it might happen again today.” Oh, he knew I’d seen him from the window. Since getting back together, this was the first time I felt that we were constantly playing a game. Probing, hesitating, strategizing—these were the unavoidable challenges of love. “I’m twenty-nine now. Am I still expected to act like an immature young girl?” He mumbled a subtle assent, slowly steering the car forward, his expression unreadable. 6 Besides Aaron, Ben was also there, another one of Matt’s college roommates. Everyone was very enthusiastic upon seeing me, as if the five years of no contact between us simply didn’t exist. Matt’s face flushed easily when he drank, and after two beers, his face was bright red, but his hand never let go of mine. Aaron teased him, “Dude, you’re even eating with your left hand. Are you going to starve yourself? What, scared Vivian will run off?” Ben chimed in, “Relax, man, everyone knows Vivian was crazy about you. When you two broke up, she camped outside our dorm for days. When she couldn’t find you, she came looking for us. I was actually scared of getting cornered by her.” Yes, that first week after the sudden breakup was the hardest. When I couldn’t find Matt, I started harassing his roommates, desperately asking if he’d been back, or who he was getting close to. It was nearing college graduation, and everyone was swamped with job hunting, yet they had to put up with my harassment. Looking back, it was pretty pathetic. I picked up a glass of wine from the table and raised it to the two across from me. “Just youthful foolishness, gentlemen. Please bear with me, and don’t be angry.” I chugged the wine in one go, astonishing the three men at the table. Throughout the meal, Aaron and Ben kept repeating the same old lines. “Matt, it wasn’t easy for you and Vivian to get back together. You really need to cherish her and not make any more mistakes, because not everyone gets a second chance.” “Come on, let’s toast to true lovers ending up together.” “It’s so great, it’s really great that you two are back together.” When the evening ended, I dropped Matt off at his place. I stood at the door without going in. “I have plans tomorrow, so I’m leaving now. Will you be okay by yourself?” He asked me, “If I said I didn’t want to be alone, would you stay with me?” I looked at him, saying nothing. He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Just before we left, they all said you’ve changed a lot, completely different from before. I originally wanted to argue, but looking at you now, I realize I have no defense. Vivian, you’ve changed.” Yes, of course I’d changed. Who could remain unchanged in the river of time? Appearance, personality, values – which of these isn’t shaped by the crucible of experience? Hadn’t he changed too? He hugged me for a long time without speaking. Just as I started to feel tired and tried to push him away, I felt something warm trickle into the hollow of my neck. Matt murmured in my ear, “You’ve changed… is it because of her?” Which ‘he’? Or ‘her’?

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That year, at eighteen, I fell ill saving Jasper. Everyone in our circle said I was his lifeline. Until, Jasper’s mistress confronted me. The young, beautiful girl looked at me with pity, then showed me a video. In the video, Jasper’s friend asked, “Are you really going to marry that sickly girl? What about the canary you keep outside?” Jasper didn’t even lift an eyelid. His voice was flat. “She’s like a porcelain doll; you can’t even touch her. What normal man can put up with that?” “I’m only marrying her to repay an old kindness.” So it was just to repay a debt. I didn’t cry or make a scene. Before the wedding, I boarded a flight to America. Later, I heard that on the wedding day, the Thorne family heir, unable to find his bride, went completely mad. 1 The day Jasper’s mistress confronted me, was our six-year anniversary. The young, beautiful girl wore a vibrant red dress, high heels, radiant like a crimson rose, even carrying the heady scent of roses on her. She was the polar opposite of me. Her eyes, as she looked at me, were filled with pity. “Jasper doesn’t love you at all.” “Since you can’t even satisfy his needs, are you going to shamelessly cling to him?” I didn’t speak, but my hands, hanging at my sides, trembled uncontrollably. This girl, Clementine, had just shown me a video. In the video, Jasper’s childhood friend asked, “Are you really going to marry that sickly girl? Didn’t you say it was just for fun? Did you actually fall for her?” “And what about the canary you keep outside?” Jasper was sprawled on an expensive leather sofa, not even lifting an eyelid at the question. His expression was languid. “She’s like a porcelain doll; you can’t even touch her. What normal man can put up with that?” “Besides, even if she were an angel, after all these years, I’d be tired of playing with her, wouldn’t I?” My heart felt clutched in someone’s hand, throbbing painfully, as if it would burst with just a slight squeeze. I didn’t believe the man in the video was Jasper. He always cherished my delicate health, treating me with the utmost tenderness. Even in moments of passion, he was restrained and controlled. Even when Jasper rarely lost control, he would only gently clasp my waist and tell me, “My dear Summer, you are mine for life.” Jasper wouldn’t treat me this way. But the video continued to play. That face, the one I knew so well, moved its lips, slowly uttering the cruelest words. “I’m only marrying her to repay an old kindness.” The words “repay an old kindness” drifted lightly, yet they crashed heavily into my heart. With my tear-prone constitution, my eyes were already brimming. I bit down hard on my lip, determined not to show my discomfiture in front of Clementine. “It’s just a video. I don’t believe it.” The Jasper in this video was a completely different person from the Jasper this morning. This morning, before he left for work, he had gently kissed my forehead. “Summer, wait for me to get off work.” Videos can be faked. I’ve known Jasper for ten years; no one understands him better than I do. Jasper isn’t this kind of man. 2 Clementine seemed to have anticipated my reaction. She chuckled softly. “You really are as stubborn as I imagined.” She pulled down the collar of her dress, revealing a smattering of ambiguous kiss marks on her slender neck. When my gaze fell on those marks, I felt as though I’d been burned. Jasper loved leaving these bruised marks on my neck, and these were almost identical to Clementine’s. Clementine’s eyes held a challenging glint. “Jasper left all these on me, little by little. Hasn’t he been telling you lately that he has to work overtime because of company matters? But do you know? Jasper didn’t go to work overtime at all. He came to see me. Jasper is a man with normal needs. It’s no wonder he finds you so uninteresting in bed.” After those words, all the arguments I’d mentally constructed in Jasper’s defense suddenly vanished. Clementine was right. Jasper had strong physical needs, but my delicate health prevented me from satisfying him. Afterwards, he would always relieve himself. I once leaned on his knee, asking softly, “Doesn’t it bother you, holding back?” Jasper’s fingers traced my cheek, a light laugh escaping him. “As long as you’re here, Summer, what’s a little discomfort?” I foolishly believed him. I thought Jasper’s love for me transcended mere physical intimacy. I never imagined he was keeping a pampered mistress outside, to fulfill the needs I couldn’t meet. Clementine flaunted the ring on her finger, flashing a taunting smile. “Does this ring look familiar to you, Miss Peterson?” My gaze suddenly froze when it met the diamond ring. This was Jasper and my engagement ring. Jasper had recently told me he was taking it for cleaning and maintenance, preparing for the wedding, which was why I had taken it off. Clementine seemed quite pleased with the change in my expression. Her voice was sweet, unable to hide the boastful tone. “You don’t know? I just mentioned to Jasper that I wanted to try on this ring, and he took it from you.” My heart suddenly ached with a dull pain. So Jasper cared so much about Clementine’s casual words. He even gave her our engagement ring. Clementine noticed my mortified expression, and her smile became even brighter. “You’re truly pathetic.” She slipped off the ring and tossed it to the ground like trash, her eyes clearly malicious. “I’m tired of wearing it anyway. Here, you can have it back.” I didn’t pick it up. I just watched her calmly. “You’re much younger than me, but you might not understand one thing. A cheating cat never just steals one fish.” Clementine was too young. She didn’t understand that once a man cheats, he’ll always do it again. Just like me, I would never be Jasper’s exception. 3 I chased after Jasper for four years, but he only saw me as the girl next door. Jasper was never short of women; he always preferred the seductive type, naturally not noticing a young girl like me. That year, when I was eighteen, Jasper and I were both kidnapped. The kidnappers demanded fifty million in ransom from the Thorne family. The family reported it to the police, but the kidnappers found out. The ruthless desperadoes threw Jasper and me into a water dungeon. The dungeon was damp and dark, and the murky water even harbored venomous insects. Jasper was extremely weak, barely breathing. It was I who cut my wrist, feeding him my blood drop by drop, until rescuers finally arrived. After we got out, Jasper completely shed his former playboy image. He found out it was all the doing of his paternal half-brother. Those kidnappers ended up in his hands, their fates utterly miserable. His half-brother was confined to a villa in the suburbs and died of despair. Everyone said the Thorne family heir was ruthless and vengeful. All the women Jasper had kept around him were gone. I became the only woman by his side. The blood loss in the dungeon had damaged my constitution. I developed a chronic illness; two steps would leave me breathless, and intimacy had to be gentle. Jasper cherished me, and even in passion, he was tender and restrained. In moments of intimacy, I once asked Jasper, “Didn’t you used to prefer the sexy type?” “Don’t you feel a disconnect now, being with me?” Jasper buried his face in my chest, laughing softly. “My dear Summer, with you by my side, what need would I have for other women?” He would often say this, his hand moving to cup my breast. My face would instantly flush, and I would softly scold him, “Stop being a hooligan!” 4 Jasper returned exceptionally late today. I sat on the sofa all night, an open photo album beside me. It contained all our photos since we first met. I flipped from the first page to the last. In these ten years, Jasper truly hadn’t changed at all. I thought I would be the exception that would make him change his ways. But I wasn’t. No one could be Jasper’s exception. The current Clementine was just like I was back then—briefly, Jasper’s exception. Jasper leaned down and embraced me. “It’s so late. Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I said nothing. He lowered his head to kiss me, but I turned my head away, dodging him. Jasper chuckled softly, not annoyed. “What’s wrong? Who upset you? Or are you mad I came home late, Summer?” I looked at him calmly, saying nothing. “Don’t look at me like that, I won’t be able to resist.” Jasper’s eyes darkened. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. “The company has been busy lately. Next time, I’ll come home earlier to be with you, okay?” It was the same excuse again. We were close, and I smelled the scent of roses on him, the same rose perfume Clementine wore. My heart inexplicably ached. Jasper was lying again. He seemed to notice my distractedness. Jasper reached under my clothes, his hand caressing my bare skin. In the past, I would have immediately gone weak-kneed and begged for mercy, but this time, I was unusually calm. “Jasper, I don’t want to marry you anymore.” His movements stiffened, and his hand moved away from my waist, clearly losing interest. “The wedding is in a few days. Don’t make a fuss, okay?” He added, “Summer, the company has a lot going on lately. I don’t have the energy to coax you.” A dense pain bloomed in my chest. Was Jasper busy with company matters, or was he busy coaxing Clementine? My heart ached so much. Even cutting my wrist and bleeding out in the dungeon hadn’t hurt this much. Tears welled in my eyes. I suppressed a sob, asking, “Jasper, do you still love me?” “Do you really want to marry me?” The string of questions seemed to irritate Jasper. He rubbed his brow impatiently. “Summer Peterson, when did you become so dramatic?” He continued, “What more do I need to do to prove my love? Should I rip out my heart and show it to you? Just settle down and stop annoying me, okay?” Suddenly, Jasper’s phone rang. He answered irritably. “What is it?” I couldn’t see the caller ID, but I heard a girl’s tearful voice on the other end. It was Clementine. Jasper frowned, his brow furrowed with impatience. But he suppressed his volatile temper, patiently coaxing, “Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.” Jasper stood up and left in a hurry. “Something came up at the company. I’ll be back later to be with you.” The moment the door closed, my heart went completely cold. 5 Jasper never returned that night after he left. I waited alone until dawn. My fingers unconsciously slid across the screen, and I scrolled through Clementine’s social media post. The man in the photo had a peaceful, utterly exhausted sleeping face. Clementine’s face was half-visible, her smile bright, and there were intimate hickey marks on her neck. Her caption read: “Met a hooligan at the bar last night. Luckily, big brother saved me, so I rewarded him with a little sweet treat.” I rubbed my reddened eyes, suddenly feeling utterly pointless. Jasper and my wedding date was set for the fifth of next month. He had once said he would give me the grandest wedding in the world. But with only a week until the wedding, Jasper still hadn’t taken me to choose a wedding dress. He was too busy with Clementine, so busy he’d even forgotten about it. I numbly realized that promises truly only held meaning when love was present. When he returned the next day, he only told me, “I’m going abroad for business negotiations. It’ll probably take four days. When I get back, I’ll take you to pick out your wedding dress.” Jasper was lying to me again. Clementine’s latest social media post showed her wearing a pink ski suit, helmet, and mask, revealing only a pair of round, almond-shaped eyes. The caption read: “Big brother took me skiing in Iceland to see the Northern Lights! One last hurrah before the wedding.” The location was Iceland. I clutched my chest, the pain so sharp I almost cried. During those agonizing days in the dungeon, Jasper, his breath weak, had coaxed me, “Once we get out of here alive, I’ll take you to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, okay?” But he ultimately broke his promise. 6 My best friend, Hannah, video-called me then. “Summer, have you decided? Are you staying to get married here or coming to San Francisco for treatment?” Hannah had never been keen on my relationship with Jasper. She didn’t believe a playboy like Jasper would truly settle down and marry me. She now lived in San Francisco and had found a medical facility there that would be perfect for my treatment. I hadn’t made up my mind before, but now I smiled and agreed, “Okay, I’ll go to San Francisco.” Hannah on the other end of the video looked delighted. “That’s great, Summer! You’ve finally come to your senses!” After calming down, her voice became serious. “Summer, are you really giving up on Jasper?” I nodded, my voice remarkably calm. “Yes.” “I’ve given up.” Hannah sensed the heaviness of my mood and didn’t ask further, simply saying we’d talk more when we met. I went home and burned all our photos. I got rid of all the gifts he’d given me. The ring Clementine didn’t want, I tossed it in the trash. I didn’t want a ring someone else had worn. And along with it, I didn’t want Jasper either. The house was empty, leaving only some insignificant items. After doing all this, I booked a flight for the day of the wedding. I never expected that the wedding I was discarding like trash, someone else would snatch up like a treasure.

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Six years into our marriage, I brought up divorce with my child-free wife. She broke down, promising to have children for me, until I produced a breast pump. Next to it was a prenatal scan, showing twins. “Found it in your box when we were moving.” “Those twins you asked me to look after, they’re yours, aren’t they?” 1 During the move, I stumbled upon a box tucked away beneath a pile of clutter. It was my wife Audrey’s box, and the lock easily gave way. The first thing that caught my eye was a well-used breast pump. Though meticulously cleaned, the fine scratches etched onto its surface were a silent testament to prolonged use. A sharp pang gripped my chest, and a knot of confusion tightened in my gut. I’m a cardiologist; Audrey is the head nurse in our hospital’s pediatric department. She always used to say she’d seen enough “little monsters” to never want children of her own. She was resolute about being child-free. I’d always dismissed it as a casual complaint, never taking it for anything more. Early in our marriage, she’d gotten pregnant unexpectedly. I’d pleaded with her, again and again, to keep the baby. But she was unyielding, eventually choosing to terminate the pregnancy. Though heartbroken, I prioritized her well-being. To prevent further emotional or physical distress, I underwent a vasectomy at her suggestion. Children were out of the question for us. So, how did she come to possess a breast pump? Could it have been an accident, a mix-up? My curiosity compelled me to dig deeper, until a prenatal scan report emerged. My mind reeled, a thunderclap in my skull, and my fingertips went numb. It was a prenatal scan, showing twins, both with strong heartbeats. A corner of the name was torn, but the age on the report matched Audrey’s. I could no longer convince myself that so many striking similarities were mere coincidence. My deeply trusted, child-free wife, it seemed, might secretly have two children. I’d intended to confront her, to get answers as soon as she returned. But Audrey said the night shift at the nurse’s station was hectic, and she didn’t come home. The next day, I drifted through my morning surgeries at the hospital in a daze, barely holding it together. As I stepped out of the operating room, Audrey strode into my office, her steps light and airy. The moment she saw me, she launched herself forward, pressing a warm kiss to my neck. “My darling husband, you’ve worked so hard! Guess what delicious treat I made for you today?” With a flourish, she presented a lunchbox. Inside, braised pork hocks steamed, the soybeans cooked to a tender mush. She insisted it was nourishing. But the sight of it did nothing for my appetite. She arranged my chopsticks, chattering away. “Those twins in our department are worse than ever. You’re the only one in the country who can do this surgery.” She flashed a smile, her eyes narrowing to alluring slits. “I know you’re swamped with surgeries, but could you pull some strings for them?” The bright sunlight streaming through the window should have made me sweat, but a chill seeped into every pore of my body. It was completely out of character. Knowing Audrey as I did, she’d seen countless partings between life and death. She had never shown favoritism to any patient. Yet, for these twins, she’d brought it up to me more than once. She’d told me they had a rare heart condition, and their single father was struggling to raise them. She worried he wouldn’t be able to bear it if something went wrong. She was more patient with these twins than any other child, checking on them multiple times each night. When their condition worsened, she’d even stayed by their bedside all night. Was this truly the behavior of a nurse towards strangers? Unless they were her own. 2 Looking at that incredibly familiar face, I yearned to demand answers, to unleash a furious argument. But in that moment, it all felt utterly pointless. Three years ago, I’d been sent abroad for a year and a half of advanced training. A year and a half, with a time difference, was more than enough time for her to have a pair of twins. My mind felt tangled in a web of tightly wound ropes, a throbbing mess I couldn’t untangle. I couldn’t fathom it. Audrey and I had started our relationship because she’d been smitten with me at first sight. Working in the same hospital meant our paths crossed frequently. Sought after by countless admirers, she’d only had eyes for me, shedding her usual reserve to pursue me relentlessly. Her unwavering care had gradually melted my heart. For years, our relationship had been harmonious. We were the quintessential model couple in everyone’s eyes. Colleagues often remarked that I had both a thriving career and a fulfilling love life, truly living the dream. I’d believed it myself. It turned out to be a cruel illusion. What I got in return was her having children with another man. She was the one who initiated things with me, yet she was also the first to betray me. This seemingly perfect marriage, it was time for it to end. I pushed the lunchbox away and rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling utterly exhausted. “I can’t pull any strings,” I said, my voice heavy. “It wouldn’t be fair to the other patients waiting.” Audrey’s face instantly changed, her tone laced with urgency. “It’s just a word from you, how can you not pull strings? Those twins can’t wait any longer. The hospital follows the principle of emergency aid, so let the other patients wait!” I couldn’t believe those words were coming from the head nurse of the pediatric department. The old Audrey, even when faced with a child tragically disfigured in a car accident, remained unfazed. She’d simply say, “It’s destiny.” Now, for those twins, she was willing to utter words so contrary to medical ethics. She didn’t notice my distress. She leaned down, clutching my hand tightly. She swayed, her voice a playful whine. “Please, darling, just this once, can’t we bend the rules? I’m begging you.” In the past, a little coaxing from her was enough for me to grant any request. But now, her almost pleading tone made me deeply uncomfortable. I forced a bitter smile. “Seeing you this anxious, someone might think you’re their mother.” I felt Audrey stiffen, her forced chuckle strained. “Oh, where do you get these ideas? I’m the head nurse, you know. I just can’t bear to see two little lives die waiting. It’s too sad.” Fearing I might press further, she quickly stood up, awkwardly adjusting her clothes. “I need to get back to work. Please, think about it. We definitely need to get them moved up the queue.” It sounded like a command. Her patience had clearly worn thin. I said nothing. As she left, her phone remained on my desk. A powerful premonition urged me to pick it up. I entered her birthday, and the phone unlocked. Almost instinctively, I tapped on her online shopping app, searching through her purchase history from three years ago. 3 The purchase record for that breast pump nailed me to a pillar of shame, utterly immobile. What followed was an endless list of baby bottles, swaddling blankets, diapers, and countless other infant items. Each new discovery felt like another hole being gouged into my heart, bleeding profusely. Audrey likely never imagined that the keepsakes she couldn’t bear to discard would one day become the fuse that exposed her betrayal. My unconditional trust in her over the years had left her utterly unguarded around me. She hadn’t even bothered to delete her shopping history. Putting the phone down, I felt suffocated, unable to breathe. Numbness spread from my fingertips, engulfing my entire body. My brain felt like it was being repeatedly clawed at by a giant hand, torn to shreds. Fragmented memories began to coalesce in my mind. It turned out those details I’d noticed before weren’t figments of my imagination. One time, idly scrolling through social media, I stumbled upon a new post from Audrey. The photo showed a pair of strikingly similar-looking boy and girl, holding cotton candy, their smiles radiant. Audrey’s caption read: “My little darlings are all grown up~” I was confused. Audrey had told me she was away for advanced training, so how could she be posting something like this? When I clicked on her profile, it all vanished. It was as if it had been my imagination. I called her, delicately bringing up the topic. Hearing my query, Audrey chuckled. “It must be a glitch with the app. I’ve had it happen before. You don’t honestly think I’d have a pair of twins behind your back, do you?” I found it a little humorous myself, and dismissed it. Then, on another occasion, while searching for a file, I found a rental agreement in Audrey’s folder. The name on it was Audrey. While she often worked late shifts, she always came home, no matter how late. It made no sense for her to rent an apartment elsewhere. When I asked, she explained she was helping a colleague who was experiencing financial difficulties, so she’d lent a hand. At the time, I thought she was kind-hearted and even transferred thirty thousand dollars to her, worried she didn’t have enough money. Now, looking back, I was a colossal fool, completely oblivious. I was being sold out and still counting the money for them. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of heels on the floor. Audrey burst through the door, her movements frantic. Her first instinct was to snatch her phone. She started to leave, then hesitated, turning back to me. “Did you… did you look at my phone just now?” she asked, a tentative edge to her voice. I feigned confusion, lifting my head. “No, why?” Audrey visibly relaxed, offering an awkward laugh. “Nothing.” This only solidified my suspicion that she had something to hide. 4 That evening, I lingered at the office for an extra hour before heading home. My mind was in turmoil, and even the simple act of unlocking the door felt like it sapped all my strength. Pushing the door open, the house was dark. A few candles flickered on the dining table, their flames casting dancing shadows on Audrey’s smiling face. “You’re back, darling. I’ve been waiting for you.” Audrey was wearing a black, backless nightgown, her voluptuous figure looking even more alluring in the candlelight. A simple sway of her hips was enough to captivate. I knew she was inviting me. But I merely shrugged off my coat, utterly devoid of interest. Seeing my lack of response, she pressed herself against my back. Her breath caressed my neck, hot and insistent. “Do you want to be a father?” Her sudden question made me freeze. As if she’d gotten the reaction she wanted, her embrace tightened. “You should get your vasectomy reversed. The success rate is really high. We could have a child.” I found it laughable. I’d nearly begged her on my knees to keep our child. She hadn’t budged an inch. The day she underwent the abortion, I sat withered on the surgical waiting room bench, my eyes red and swollen from tears. In my mind, I could almost hear the incessant cries of my unborn child. Those cries, which should have been sweet, lisping calls of “Daddy.” But it was all impossible now. For Audrey’s sake, I’d stifled my grief and undergone the vasectomy. Before I even had a chance to fully recover, I had to return to the operating room to treat patients. Exhausted, my body had barely healed properly. It’s fair to say I’d nearly sacrificed my life to fulfill Audrey’s desire to be child-free. When my parents pressed us for grandchildren, I’d lied, claiming it was my fault, to spare Audrey any trouble. Because of this, my parents were deeply disappointed in me, almost to the point of being admitted to the hospital. My in-laws, upon learning it was “my” fault, were relentless. If they couldn’t get money from me, they’d point fingers and call me an incapable man, blaming me for their lack of grandchildren. They found fault with everything I did, even instigating Audrey to divorce me. For her, I had weathered every storm, no matter how fierce. Now, what did she mean by asking these things? Audrey pulled me to the dining table, leaning on her elbows, watching me with amused interest. “I always feel like something’s missing between us. I’ve thought about it, and it must be a child.” She continued to talk, never pausing, as she served me food. “Once you become a father, you’ll definitely understand a parent’s heart. You won’t be so cold towards patients anymore.” My fists clenched, and my breathing grew heavy. It all came back to this. This entire elaborate dinner was still about those twins. Looking at the mountain of food she’d piled onto my plate, I pushed it back towards her. “Being child-free is actually quite nice,” I said, my voice cold. “You eat. I’m not hungry.” Audrey’s smile froze, instantly replaced by anger. “Owen, what do you mean? I spent all this time cooking, and you won’t even touch it?” “I’m tired. I’m going to rest.” Through the closed door, Audrey’s grumbling reached my ears, word for word. The truth was, I deeply wanted children, but not with Audrey.

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After marrying Frederick’s older brother, Arthur, I feigned frigidity, repeatedly turning him away. The next time Arthur went to take a cold shower, I saw the comments. [The female side character is so disgusting. She married the male lead’s brother but is still obsessed with the male lead.] [Poor male lead’s brother. He’s clearly better in every way than the male lead, but he’s always sexually frustrated.] [Once the male lead’s brother finds out the female side character’s unrequited love for his brother, he’ll divorce her.] [After the divorce, the female side character will foolishly drug the male lead, exhausting the last bit of goodwill her ex-husband had for her, ending up miserable.] Me: ? Just then, Arthur suddenly emerged from the bathroom. I shakily held up the “toy.” “Honey, let’s do it…” 1 Arthur’s eyes darkened slightly. A thick bath towel wrapped around his lower half showed no obvious contours. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that his gaze was dangerous. I dared to, my hands trembling as I tore open the box. “H-honey, wanna…?” Arthur exhaled, then stepped towards me, snatching the item from my hand. His face betrayed no emotion. The way he stroked my head was stiff. “Valerie, don’t force yourself.” With that, he pulled up my blanket and pajamas. Then he went to sleep in the guest bedroom. But the moment Arthur turned, I clearly saw beneath the bath towel… The master bedroom door clicked shut. I stared at the ceiling and sighed, the comments from moments ago flashing through my mind. A wave of apprehension washed over me. 2 I had indeed always liked Frederick, Arthur’s younger brother. I thought I had hidden it well. But those comments actually knew the secret I had kept buried in my heart. Could… could the comments be true? Was I just a dramatic female side character? And Frederick was the male lead, destined not to be mine? Thinking this, my heart ached inevitably. To marry into the Vance family, I had deliberately used a trick, slipping a drug into a drink. I never expected the waiter serving the drinks to mix up the two Vance brothers. By a strange twist of fate, Arthur and I ended up in bed together. Afterwards, he offered to take responsibility, to marry me. My father, suddenly having climbed the social ladder by attaching himself to the Vance family, was overjoyed and naturally agreed. The only one unhappy was me. I cried and went to Frederick, telling him that I liked him. He looked at me with a complicated expression and said, “Valerie, we can’t be together anymore.” I had no choice but to follow my father’s arrangements and marry Arthur. After the marriage, I found Arthur’s desires alarmingly intense. As long as he wasn’t working overtime, he would be in bed precisely at ten o’clock. Then he’d approach me from behind, whispering in my ear, “Today, is it okay?” But my first time had left me with severe PTSD, so I could only feign frigidity. Every time Arthur stared at me with those hazy eyes, I would tremble uncontrollably. But without exception, I would push his arm away and shake my head. Arthur would reply in a pained voice, “Okay… I’ll go shower.” He wouldn’t say what he was doing in the bathroom. And I wouldn’t ask. But we both knew perfectly well. It wasn’t that I wanted it both ways. It was because in the second month of our marriage, Frederick suddenly gave me subtle hints. This gave me new hope. I couldn’t help but wonder: did Frederick like me a little too? Coupled with my existing PTSD, I began to openly reject Arthur. But now. The comments shattered my illusion. Frederick was the male lead, and I was just a side character. Then who was the female lead? Never mind, it wasn’t important. What was important was that I would end up miserable. Thinking this, I shivered. As if I had foreseen my tragic end. 3 The next day. I woke to find a glass of honey water on my bedside table. A note was tucked under the glass. Arthur’s handwriting was, as always, restrained: “Company matters, breakfast is on the table. May be back late tonight, no need to wait for me.” I stared at that note for a long time. One year of marriage. He was like this every day. No matter how late I slept, there was always honey water when I woke up. No matter how cold I had been the day before, he was still as gentle as ever the next day. Sometimes I even wondered if this person had no temper. But I knew perfectly well that he did. It was just all bottled up in those cold showers. I stared at the water glass. A strange tightness in my chest. The comments said I would exhaust Arthur’s last bit of goodwill. So, how much did he have left now? [The male lead’s brother is truly a good person. What a shame, he’s only there to be a foil for the male lead.] [Doesn’t anyone think this repressed, self-controlled older man is incredibly appealing?] [Laughing so hard. Once tasted, now perpetually starved.] [If you’re feeling stressed, you can always check the male lead’s brother’s zipper.] I suddenly felt inexplicably guilty. Arthur was only five years older than me. How was he an “old man”? I mentally grumbled at these comments, not forgetting to defend Arthur. 4 At eight in the evening, Arthur returned. He stood by the entryway, changing his shoes. He visibly paused when he saw me sitting on the sofa. “Why aren’t you in the bedroom?” I clutched the cushion in my hands, trying to make my expression look natural. Succinctly, I said, “Waiting for you.” Arthur’s movements as he changed his shoes faltered. He looked up at me, his eyes holding something I couldn’t quite decipher. I quickly added, “Um… have you eaten? I made some noodles.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. In our entire marriage, Arthur had never let me into the kitchen. Last night I’d brought out the “toy.” Today, I was cooking for him. Such obvious attempts to please were unmistakable to anyone. Arthur’s gaze fell on the rather sad-looking bowl of noodles on the dining table. He was strangely silent for a few seconds. Just as I thought he would politely decline, he suddenly said, “Okay.” I watched Arthur sit at the dining table and slowly eat the entire bowl of noodles. I sat opposite him. Just thinking about what was going to happen tonight made my palms sweat with nervousness. After eating the last bite, Arthur put down his chopsticks and looked up at me. “Valerie.” “Hmm?” “What happened?” Arthur was a strikingly handsome man with strong features. Being stared at by him gave me an inexplicable sense of intrusion. Caught off guard by his gaze, my heart gave a violent leap. I quickly stammered, “N-nothing… nothing at all…” Arthur said nothing. He just watched me quietly. That gaze made me feel utterly exposed. I thought of his intense self-control last night. Then I remembered the comment about my “miserable end” and gritted my teeth, blurting out: “Honey.” “Tonight… let’s sleep together.” 5 The air was silent for a few seconds. Arthur lowered his eyes. I suddenly couldn’t discern the emotion in his gaze. The comments, however, exploded as if they’d eaten a pot of toads: [Huh?? Hold on! Why did the female side character suddenly change her tune?] [Didn’t she self-righteously think the male lead liked her, and was saving herself for him??] [Female side character proposes a friends-with-benefits arrangement.] [She seems to have forgotten her cold persona, lol.] My fingertips trembled when I read the second comment. So Frederick didn’t like me at all? Then why did he say those ambiguous things to mislead me? Just as I was lost in thought, staring at the comments, Arthur’s voice suddenly sounded in my ear. “Valerie, you don’t have to force yourself.” “I’ll always respect you in these matters.” My brow twitched. An inexplicable guilt welled up in my heart. It was I who had drugged him, inadvertently leading Arthur to drink it. He was forced to marry me. After marriage, it was because of my unrequited love for Frederick that he slept alone. From beginning to end, this should have been my fault. Yet Arthur still thought I was the one being wronged. He was still thinking of me. Just like how he discreetly handled my father’s troubles for me. How he managed everything that might affect my mood. I suddenly felt like I was completely blind. Arthur suddenly approached, taking my hand and examining it carefully for a few seconds. He blew softly on a tiny scratch on my index finger. “Next time, don’t use knives. If you really want to cook, I’ll find someone to teach you, okay?” I nodded silently. Arthur led me back to the bedroom. I lay down, watching him. Noticing he was preparing to go back to the spare room, I couldn’t help but ask, “Can’t you really stay with me?” Arthur paused. After a long moment, he slowly said, “I’ll go get my pajamas.” I idly listened to the sounds from the bathroom. After some time, Arthur finally emerged. He lay down beside me, like a corpse. I stealthily edged closer. Arthur suddenly spoke. “Get some rest.” Me: “…” Oh. Sleeping chastely. The comments exploded again: [Bro, your wife’s thighs are crying for you. Are you going to do anything?] [Why was he in the bathroom for half an hour? So hard to guess.] [Suspected homage to Plato.] [Don’t make the fierce beast laugh.] 6 Even though Arthur rejected me, I knew he was just holding back. Well, of course. Rome wasn’t built in a day. For the past year, I’d been feigning frigidity. Such a sudden change, it was no wonder Arthur was overthinking it. After careful consideration, I asked the housekeeper to prepare lunch early, intending to deliver it to Arthur later. As long as I wasn’t being dramatic and dutifully played the part of Arthur’s wife, I should be able to avoid the miserable ending the comments predicted, right? Near noon, as soon as I arrived at the company, someone recognized me. I carried the lunchbox to Arthur’s office. He seemed to be in a meeting. I sat idly on the sofa, waiting for him. The door suddenly opened. I instinctively stood up, my gaze hopeful towards the doorway. The next second, my expression froze. It was Frederick. The comments became active the moment he appeared: [Here comes the little bitter gourd male lead. He suffered so much with his mother since childhood. Finally returned to the Vance family, but he’s not valued by his father.] [The male lead is only a department manager because he’s an illegitimate child.] [Exactly. He’s clearly very capable, but he’s always been suppressed by his brother.] [Oh, it’s okay. After the male lead gains power in the later stages, with the female lead’s help, he successfully gets his share.] In the blink of an eye, Frederick walked up to me. He calmly observed the changes in my expression. He smiled. “Are you very unhappy to see me, Valerie?” Hearing that endearment so suddenly, my ears flushed. It was what he used to call me often. After I married Arthur, he rarely used it. But today, he suddenly called me that again. I distanced myself. “Don’t call me that. I’m… your older brother’s wife now.” If the comments were to be believed, my tragic end stemmed from my lack of clarity and boundaries. So, upholding my boundaries now was also a way of saving myself. But Frederick’s face immediately darkened. “Is that so? Weren’t you always quite averse to that title? Now you’re eagerly running here to deliver lunch. Have you fallen for Arthur?” His sarcastic tone stung me. While I couldn’t exactly say I’d fallen for him, Arthur was indeed a very good person. Seeing my silence, Frederick’s tone grew a bit more agitated. “Didn’t you say you’d do anything for me?” He then added, “Then would you mind putting this in Arthur’s study?” I looked down. A small listening device lay quietly in Frederick’s palm. I was a little confused, not quite understanding what Frederick meant. The comments shared my confusion: [What? What are you doing, male lead? Playing dirty?] [Is this how the male lead in the original story became the head of the Vance family??] [Actually, the male lead didn’t do anything wrong. He just really wanted to get ahead and was too eager to gain his father’s approval.] [Oh, it’s okay, after the male lead gains power in the later stages, with the female lead’s help, he successfully gets his share.] I didn’t take the listening device. Frederick directly slipped it into my bag. I was stunned for a few seconds, then immediately tried to fish it out of my bag to return to him. But Frederick suddenly pressed down on my hand. “Valerie, you don’t want to see me always suppressed in the Vance family, do you?” His voice was low, carrying a hint of pity. “Big brother has everything – family assets, status, and… you.” He added, “But what about me? I only have you.” I looked up, meeting Frederick’s eyes, brimming with deep affection. I had to admit, it was very similar. Similar to how he used to look at me when I liked him. [The male lead is performing again.] [This trick, the female side character fell for it eight hundred times.] [Every time the female side character wavers, the male lead pulls this stunt. He really treats people like fools.] [Haven’t you noticed? The male lead only shows affection when he needs to use the female side character.] 7 My heart violently constricted. So all those times Frederick had been hot and cold with me this past year—all those hints that made me mistakenly believe he liked me too—it was all because… I could be used by him? I pulled my hand out from under Frederick’s, taking a step back. A flicker of surprise crossed Frederick’s face. “Valerie?” My voice was very soft. “Frederick, I can’t help you.” Frederick’s eyes instantly turned cold. He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled. There was an indescribable sinister quality to it. “Valerie, do you really think Arthur is a good person?” He continued, “He only married you because he slept with you and felt obligated to take responsibility. Do you really believe he likes you, an illegitimate child?” I froze. Everyone could use my status as an illegitimate child to hurt me. But Frederick couldn’t. Because he, too, had grown up under the stigma of being an illegitimate child. And more importantly, he knew how I had been locked out in the snow by my older siblings when I was a child. If Frederick hadn’t saved me, I might have frozen solid. My eyes suddenly felt a little sore. I saw Frederick raise his hand helplessly, as if to wipe away my tears. Just as his fingertips were about to touch me, the office door suddenly opened. It was Arthur. Arthur had clearly just finished a meeting. He stood at the doorway, looking at Frederick and me for half a second. I abruptly stepped back, wiping my own tears. Arthur slowly shifted his gaze from me to the displeased Frederick. “Meeting in Conference Room Three.” 8 Frederick left. Only Arthur and I remained in the spacious office. But an inexplicable sense of oppression settled over me. He must have seen it all, just now, right? What would Arthur think? Would he misunderstand? Or… My mind raced with speculation. But Arthur merely took off his suit jacket and sat on the sofa. “Aunt Betty told me you came to bring me lunch. Would you like to eat something with me?” I lowered my eyes, concealing my emotions. Arthur didn’t ask. He didn’t even care why I had been crying just now. I forced a smile. “I’ve eaten. I want to go home now.” Arthur was silent for a few seconds, then gave me a long, deep look. Slowly, he said, “Okay, be careful.”

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