The night before our wedding, I found a photo on Ryan’s phone—him with a delicate, starry-eyed girl. I confronted him immediately. After an all-night smoking session, he confessed: “I rescued her on a mission. She’s depressed. I wavered… but I’ll keep my distance.” I swallowed my pain and forgave him. But at the altar, his teammate burst in: “Captain! Skye’s on a roof—she’ll jump if you marry!” The ring hit the floor as Ryan sprinted out. “Leave now, and we’re through!” I screamed. He hesitated—just for a second—but kept running. 1 The wedding hall descended into chaos. The whispers of the guests were like a thousand tiny needles piercing my eardrums. Our parents rushed over, a storm of confusion on their faces. Ryan’s teammate, Cole, stood by helplessly, his face flushed red. “Mia… I… Skye, she has depression. The last time she tried to jump, the captain was the one who saved her. She… she really depends on him. He’s the only one who can talk her down… It’s a matter of life and death. The captain had no choice. Please, don’t blame him…” Cole had been with Ryan’s squad for three years. He’d always been respectful, calling me “Mia” with a warm, easy smile. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I had no idea how many secrets he’d helped Ryan keep, or how entangled he was with this girl, Skye. A dense, suffocating pain spread through my chest. This was betrayal, real and sharp. My parents gripped my hands, their voices tight with panic. “What on earth is going on? Isn’t he on leave for the wedding? Who could possibly need him to go on a rescue now?” Ryan’s parents, mortified, started dialing his number, muttering frantically, “Mia, don’t you worry, I’ll get that brat on the phone right now. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll break his legs!” The diamond ring lay on the red carpet, kicked aside by passing feet until it rolled far away, much like my shattered heart. I stood frozen, the train of my wedding dress pooled on the floor like a cloud wilted by a storm. The wedding I had dreamed of a million times had turned into this humiliating spectacle. The groom had abandoned his bride in a hall full of well-wishers, all for another woman. For five solid hours, I made 108 calls. Ryan didn’t answer a single one. I watched my phone screen go dark, light up, and finally fade to black. The sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the chapel, casting mottled patterns of light on the floor. A beam landed on my empty ring finger, a touch as cold as ice. The guests gradually dispersed, leaving behind a battlefield of streamers and half-eaten reception food. Suddenly, the room started to spin. The last thing I heard was my mother’s terrified cry. When I opened my eyes again, the sterile smell of disinfectant filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV drip. Seeing I was awake, she said softly, “You have to take care of yourself now. You’re taking care of two.” I stared at the ceiling as silent tears streamed into my hair. From the moment he handed me a love letter on the high school track at seventeen, to the surprise of him taking a twenty-hour train ride just to see me when we were in different colleges, to the day he became a firefighter, his eyes red as he promised, “From now on, I’ll protect the people, but I’ll always protect you first.” Seven years. The memories flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. I looked at the poorly concealed excitement on our parents’ faces and managed a bitter smile. How was I supposed to tell them that our seven-year love story had just reached its end? At seven o’clock that evening, after disappearing for six hours, Ryan finally showed up. 2 His face was pale, and he looked at me with a flicker of guilt. “Mia, I’m sorry,” he rasped. “Skye… I couldn’t just let her die. Saving people is my duty.” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. “There are dozens of other firefighters. Did they really need you?” “She chose today, our wedding day, to jump. She wouldn’t come down until you arrived. What do you think her intentions are?” “Ryan, I’m not an idiot.” After a long silence, he took my cold hand, his voice strained. “Mia, in seven years, I’ve never asked you for anything. Just this once, I’m begging you, please don’t make a scene. Don’t let this get out and affect Skye’s reputation. Can you do that for me? I’m afraid… with her condition, she can’t handle that kind of blowback.” I stared at the desperate plea in his eyes. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron fist, the pain so intense I could barely breathe. He shouldn’t have been begging me. He should have been apologizing to me. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He hadn’t thought about how humiliated I would be, left alone at our wedding. He hadn’t worried about why I was in the hospital. His first words, his first thoughts, were all for Skye. Tears fell like broken pearls, landing on the white duvet and spreading into dark, wet stains. It took all my strength to force out a single word. “Fine.” He visibly relaxed. “Skye knows I was getting married now, and she’s very unstable. Let’s postpone the wedding for a while.” “I’ll stay with her while she gets treatment. Once she’s a little more stable… maybe three months. Just three months, and then we’ll have our wedding. Okay?” His voice was a careful, tentative probe. I had waited seven years. What was another three months? But looking at the undeniable concern for another woman in his eyes, I suddenly felt that I couldn’t wait another three months. I couldn’t wait another day. The little life inside me seemed to sense my turmoil and gave a gentle flutter. I placed a hand on my abdomen. A six-week-old life was hidden there—ours, yet it felt like it had nothing to do with him anymore. I slowly pulled my hand away, my voice as still as a dead pond. “Ryan.” “I don’t have the best memory, but I remember when I was seventeen, you handed me that letter on the track, so nervous you were tripping over your own feet.” “I remember the first time you held my hand. Your palm was slick with sweat, and you walked three whole blocks without daring to let go.” “I remember the day we graduated from college, you held me and swore you’d take care of me forever, that you’d make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years, you remembered I don’t eat onions, you remembered I need ginger tea during my period, you remembered every little habit… I always thought you cherished me, that you held me in the palm of your hand.” I looked up at him, and the tears finally broke free. “But today… today I don’t feel your love for me at all.” Seven years of memories surged through his mind as well. Ryan’s eyes reddened, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek. “But Mia,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “Skye… she can’t live without me right now.” She can’t live without me. That one sentence shattered the last remnants of hope I had. I looked at him and suddenly, I smiled through my tears. “Then go to her.” He stared, clearly not expecting me to say that. But in the end, he said nothing more. He just turned and walked out of my hospital room. The next day, as I was packing up to leave, I ran into Ryan in the hallway. 3 He didn’t even see me. All his attention was focused on the girl by his side. She was wearing a hospital gown, her face pale, half-supported in his arms like a frightened fawn. So this was the person who had made him abandon me at the altar. My gaze must have been too heavy, because Skye saw me first. She instinctively shrank behind Ryan, her fingers clutching the corner of his shirt. Only then did Ryan turn to me. His brow furrowed, his tone laced with impatience. “Mia, Skye is emotionally fragile. Whatever you want to say, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene at the hospital and scare her.” Skye peeked out from behind him, her voice a barely audible whisper. “Mia… Ryan and I… it’s not what you think. Please don’t misunderstand.” I clutched the ultrasound report in my hand, my knuckles turning white, but I managed a faint smile. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just here to handle my discharge paperwork.” With that, I turned my back on them and walked toward the payment counter. Ryan’s expression was strange for a moment, as if my calmness had thrown him off, leaving an inexplicable hollowness in his chest. He reached out to grab my arm, but I instinctively pulled away. My eyes caught on a small, fresh stain on his jacket. His gaze followed mine. Seeing me shrugging off my own coat, he took off his jacket, intending to drape it over my shoulders, but I dodged him. He froze, then followed me, trying to take my coat from my hands. “Let me take that. I know how much you love this coat. I’ll have it cleaned for you.” I shook my head and tossed the coat into a nearby trash can, my voice flat. “Just throw it away. I don’t like things with stains on them. You know me, I’m a bit of a perfectionist.” Seeing my cold expression, the flicker of a smile on Ryan’s face froze. He knew I wasn’t just talking about the coat. I was talking about us. He tried to speak again, but I had already paid and walked away. A short while after I left the hospital, my phone buzzed with a text from him: [Don’t be mad at me. I ordered you that Napoleon cake you said you wanted the other day. It’s on its way.] When the delivery arrived, I stared at the familiar pink box and suddenly laughed. Whenever he made me angry, he would buy me this cake to appease me. I mechanically took a bite. It used to taste so sweet. Now, it was just bitter and hard to swallow. That night, Ryan didn’t come home. The pain of severing a seven-year bond was worse than I had imagined. I lay awake until dawn, then finally got up and started packing. The matching couple’s hoodies in the closet, the photo frames lined up on the bookshelf, the sticky notes on the fridge… every object was a memory, sharp and piercing. I remembered the year we graduated. Ryan had just become a firefighter and was constantly busy. But he would use his days off to come see me, his eyes shining like stars. “Mia, as soon as I save up for a down payment, I’m going to marry you.” Three years later, he stood before me with a deed and a diamond ring, his voice trembling. “I did it. I’m giving you a home. I keep my promises.” The sun was so beautiful that day. I cried in his arms for a long time, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. We painted the walls together, assembled furniture together, and filled the balcony with sunflowers, my favorite. He said he wanted to make sure the sun would always shine in our home. But now, this home no longer had a place for me. As I sealed the last storage box, the sky began to lighten. Just as the moving truck I’d called arrived, both sets of our parents showed up. I hadn’t told them the details, so they couldn’t understand why two people on the verge of marriage were suddenly splitting up. My parents sighed but didn’t press, only saying, “You can always come home.” But Ryan’s mother clung to my hand, refusing to let go. “Mia, please, just give Ryan one more chance. What happened at the wedding… he was just confused for a moment…” I didn’t speak, just motioned for the movers to continue. Just as Ryan’s mom was about to wear herself out talking, the door opened. Ryan was back. 4 And he had brought Skye with him. She was wearing his jacket, clinging to his arm like a newly claimed kitten. The room fell deathly silent. Every eye was fixed on them. Ryan’s mother’s voice trembled. “Ryan… did you… did you do something to betray Mia?” His father was shaking with rage. “Who is this girl?!” Ryan didn’t answer. He just scanned the empty living room, his gaze finally landing on me. “You’re moving out?” “Yes,” I answered calmly. “Back to my parents’ place.” He seemed to relax. “Okay. I’ll come get you before the new wedding date.” He said it so casually, then turned and pulled Skye in front of him. “This is Skye. She’s a patient with depression I rescued on a mission. The department has asked me to look after her for a while to help stabilize her condition.” His straightforwardness made our earlier suspicions seem petty and small-minded. Skye offered a sweet smile and reached for his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am. Ryan takes such good care of me. He even brought me home for dinner today. Since everyone’s here, why don’t I cook? You can all try my cooking.” Ryan’s mother looked at me, her expression pained. “Mia, maybe… maybe we should all sit down and talk this through?” I was about to refuse when Skye cut in, a glint of defiance in her eyes. “You should stay too, Mia. The more the merrier, right?” SLAP! The crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. My eyes widened in shock as I saw my mom hit Skye across the face. “Mom!” My mother’s eyes were red as she glared at me, her voice shaking violently. “I gave birth to you. You think I don’t know you?” “You’ve been with him since you were seventeen. You’re twenty-four now! Seven years! For him, you quit your job at the design firm to be a housewife. You learned to cook his favorite dishes. You even know exactly where he keeps his socks… Do you think you would leave unless your heart was completely broken?” “I don’t care if you marry rich, but today he brought another woman into your home to humiliate you, and I will not stand for it as your mother!” “If you won’t stand up for yourself, I’ll do it for you!” My mother’s words hit me like thunder, and my eyes burned with tears. Skye clutched her cheek, her own tears welling up, but she didn’t dare cry out. Ryan immediately shielded her, his face dark with fury. “Mia! How old are you? Still running to your parents to tattle…” Before he could finish, I rushed forward and slapped him. “Ryan, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” Then, I pulled a piece of paper from the coffee table drawer and threw it at his chest. It was the ultrasound report. “Do you know what my biggest regret is?” Ryan picked up the paper. As he read the words, his pupils constricted. “Mia… you’re pregnant?”

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I sat in a corner of the library, my eyes fixed on the two figures not far away, sharing a pair of earbuds. A familiar stream of comments scrolled past the edge of my vision: [Chill, guys, Leo’s just helping her adjust the volume. He’s not even listening!] [That’s his childhood friend, Stella. They grew up together. He can’t just embarrass her!] I offered a faint smile, my gaze dropping back to the book in my lap. I didn’t stop turning the pages. Every time Leo was with another girl, the comments would instantly pop up, a ghostly chorus rushing to explain away the misunderstanding. They told me he was just a man of few words. That his unreturned messages and cold silences were all just part of his way of loving me. But I’ve decided I don’t want a man of few words anymore. … 1 We’d been dating for two years, and we didn’t have a single photo together. Every time I suggested taking one, he’d say he didn’t like putting his private life on display. And I believed him. After all, the comments were always there to back him up: [Leo’s the quiet, low-key type. It’s true he hates photos, it’s not because he doesn’t care about our girl!] [The reason he never posts on his feed is because he has over a hundred candid photos of her saved on his phone!] Time and time again, I let those disembodied reassurances convince me to keep loving him. Until today. I watched with my own eyes as Leo took off his varsity jacket and draped it over Stella’s shoulders. Stella beamed. “Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” Leo lit a cigarette, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “She won’t.” I was standing just around the corner, and I heard every word, crystal clear. The comments dutifully scrolled by, as if offering a comforting pat on the back. [He’s doing this for our girl’s own good! If he rejected Stella outright, she’d get suspicious about their relationship and ruin his plan to secretly protect Mia!] [He’s all bark and no bite! He just doesn’t want Mia to get a reputation for being petty and jealous!] I stepped out from my hiding spot. When Stella saw me, a flicker of mischief lit up her eyes. “Mia! You’re here! Want to grab dinner with us?” I shook my head, my voice flat. “No, thanks. I’m busy.” Leo glanced at me but said nothing. My hands were trembling as I walked out of the building, but the comments kept rolling. [Don’t go, sweetie! Leo was waiting for you to say something!] [Did you see the look in his eyes? He’s so heartbroken!] [I bet you anything he’s going to come and apologize tonight!] But I waited all night, and he said nothing. Instead, he reposted the voting link for Stella’s dance competition, complete with three little “Go for it!” emojis. In that instant, I felt like I had been demoted from his girlfriend to just another random follower on his feed. That night, I posted something on my own story. No words. Just a single photo. It was his varsity jacket, draped over the back of a chair in a deserted corner of the library. The comments on the post started pouring in. “Isn’t that Leo’s jacket? What’s it doing there?” But when I returned to the library the next morning, the jacket was still there, untouched. I almost laughed. The comments flickered to life again: [Leo was a wreck last night! He didn’t sleep a wink!] [He didn’t get the jacket on purpose! He wants our girl to realize he’s upset so she’ll come find him!] I sat down, carefully folded the jacket, and placed it in a paper bag. I stuck a sticky note on top: Here’s your stuff back. Don’t leave it with me again. The comments went berserk. [NO!!! MIA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!] [Don’t be mad anymore, he really, really loves you!!! AHHHHH—] I didn’t look back. This time, I was betting on myself. Not the comments, not Leo. Just me. 2 That afternoon, I didn’t go to the restaurant he always took me to. I didn’t order his favorite spicy chicken ahead of time, like I usually did. I just went to the library by myself and studied all afternoon. It wasn’t until dusk that my phone screen lit up. It was the first message from Leo all day. [Dinner tonight?] I glanced at it and didn’t reply. The comments immediately flooded my vision: [Answer him, sweetie! Leo’s already backing down!] [Why are you playing hard to get now? It’s a huge deal for Leo to message first!] [That’s just how guys are! They’re too proud to apologize, but this is his way of making up!] I turned off my phone screen and went back to my book. Not five minutes later, another message came in. [Where are you? I’ll pick you up.] I didn’t reply. I didn’t even open it. The notification light blinked for a while before finally going dark. That evening, I went for a run on the campus track. It was the first time I hadn’t told him where I was going. I had just finished one lap when I heard someone call my name. “Mia.” I stopped and turned. Leo was standing on the edge of the track, wearing that familiar black windbreaker. He walked toward me, a bottle of water in his hand. “I thought you said your cold wasn’t better yet, that you weren’t going to run?” “I’m in a good mood today. Felt like a walk.” He frowned, handing me the water. “Is your throat still sore?” I took the bottle but didn’t open it. The comments popped up again: [He won’t say it, but he’s worried sick! He searched the entire campus just to find you!] [He’s afraid to admit he’s worried you’ll think he’s being too emotional. Ugh, why does Leo always live by these stupid, unspoken rules?] [Sweetie, don’t be so cold to him. What if you break his heart…] I took a sip of water, my voice calm. “Did you need something?” He stared at me for a few seconds before asking, “Are you mad?” I didn’t answer. “Is it because of Stella?” I met his gaze. “Isn’t she your friend from childhood? What right do I have to be mad?” Leo was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, “She’s not my type.” I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Then what is your type?” His eyes darted away. He didn’t answer. I didn’t press him. I just said softly, “If you don’t like her, then keep your distance. Don’t give people the wrong idea, and don’t embarrass me.” “You’ve always known we’re just friends,” he said, his voice stiff. “I haven’t done anything to cross the line.” “But it makes me uncomfortable,” I said, looking right at him. “Do you get that? It doesn’t matter if you cross a line. Just the sight of you standing next to her is enough to make me miserable.” A heavy silence fell between us. The comments were in a frenzy: [Leo, say something! Our girl has spelled it out for you!] [Holy crap, Leo, if you don’t explain yourself now, it’s going to be too late!] [He’s totally panicking inside, but he doesn’t know how to express it… Just give him a little more time!] I waited. But no response came. Leo just stood there, his expression a mask of restraint, as if he were fighting a battle with himself, or maybe just completely lost. And I suddenly realized, that was the problem between us. He was always used to silence, and I was always used to speaking for him. Used to believing the voices of the comments, instead of the truth of his silence. I didn’t reply to any more of his messages that night. And he didn’t try to contact me again. Until two in the morning, when I saw her new post. It was a selfie from Stella. She was on the outdoor patio of a quiet, off-campus bar. Candlelight flickered in the photo as she flashed a peace sign at the camera. The top comment was glowing: [The person taking the pic is Leo, right? I get it, I get it~] I stared at it for a few seconds, then tossed my phone aside. The comments were still there, working overtime to explain it all away: [Leo wasn’t even looking at Stella! He’s just using her to make you jealous!] [Don’t believe the picture, he didn’t even take it! He was just passing by!] [He was sitting there thinking about you! He’s still waiting for you to back down first!] I stared up at the ceiling and slowly closed my eyes. After a while, you hear so many excuses that you just go numb. No matter how real they sound, they lose all their power. 3 The day after the exam, I was summoned by the dean’s office. They said my test paper had an unusually high similarity rate with Stella’s and required further investigation. In that moment, all I could feel was the biting irony. I was top of my class in every single one of my major courses. Why on earth would I need to copy from a girl who spent all her time filming dance videos and had never once shown up to an 8 a.m. lecture? When the day of the meeting came, I went alone. As soon as I pushed open the door, I saw Leo sitting inside, right next to Stella. The professor looked at me, his tone sharp. “Mia, have a seat. We’ve called you here today because Ms. Vance has reported you for cheating on the exam.” My world shrank. I looked at Stella. She had an expression of pure, innocent distress, but her voice was firm. “I’m not trying to target her, but I noticed her paper was just like mine. It could be a coincidence, or… she could have looked.” I scoffed. “Are you sure you weren’t the one looking at my paper?” Stella flinched as if I’d struck her. “That’s not what I meant… How can you be so vicious?” I turned to Leo. He said nothing. His eyes were downcast, as if he were deep in thought, or maybe just trying to escape. The comments materialized on cue: [Don’t blame him! Leo’s holding back so he doesn’t make Stella resent you more!] [He’s waiting for everyone to leave so he can comfort our girl in private!] [Mia, don’t misunderstand! If he spoke up now, it would only make your situation more awkward!] I stared at his face for a long time, until the professor asked, “Do you have anything to add?” Leo spoke slowly, his voice measured. “…I didn’t see Mia cheat. But I can’t rule out the possibility that the high similarity score is her own responsibility.” The room fell silent. My ears rang as if I’d been struck by lightning. Stella lowered her head, hiding a triumphant little smile. The professor nodded. “For now, we’ll record this as ‘suspected academic dishonesty.’ You’ll submit a written self-criticism, and your next exam will be proctored under full surveillance. If a similar issue arises, it will be permanently noted on your academic record.” My fingertips were ice-cold as I walked out of that office. The comments scrolled past my ears, one after another: [Leo didn’t mean it! They forced him to say it!] [He would never hurt you! This is all part of his strategy!] [He’s sacrificing you this one time so you won’t be truly suspected later! It’s for your own good!] What I didn’t know was that after I left, Stella tugged on Leo’s sleeve, feigning distress. “The way you spoke just now… she’s definitely going to misunderstand you.” Leo didn’t say a word. Stella leaned in closer, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “If she dares to pick a fight with you over this, I’ll be the first to say you deserve better.” “You deserve so much better.” He didn’t push her away. And I, through the glass wall of the dean’s office, saw her hand rest on his shoulder. That night, I posted again. No words. Just a picture of a sheet of paper, filled with my handwritten apology. Someone asked in the comments if I’d been set up. Someone else shared it, saying, “Even the top students stumble sometimes.” Only Leo… He liked the post, then quickly unliked it. As always, the comments rushed to his defense: [Leo was just afraid that liking it would be seen as taking sides! He totally screenshotted it and looks at it every day!] [He liked and then unliked it so you wouldn’t get cyberbullied! He’s just pretending to be cold to protect you!] I put my phone on silent and turned off all notifications. I knew then that some things weren’t worth waiting for an explanation. The next morning, Leo found me and said he wanted to have breakfast with me. I told him no, I was going to the library to study. “I’ll walk you.” “No, thanks. I want to be alone.” He frowned, watching me for a long time, but in the end, he didn’t press. He just turned and walked away. But as I watched him go, I saw that his shoulders were relaxed. As if he’d finally been freed from the burden of performing an emotional role he never wanted. That night, Stella posted a photo from a trendy Japanese restaurant near campus. She was wearing new earrings, and the caption read: “Thanks for celebrating with me, Leo.” The comments were a flood of “Get together!” and “You two are so cute!” I stared at the picture for a long time, my phone growing hot in my hand, my fingertips cold. The comments were still there: [Don’t believe her post! Leo didn’t even eat anything, he was just passing by!] [He was only with her as a favor! He only has eyes for you!] [Mia, don’t be rash! Don’t misunderstand Leo again…] This time, I didn’t even look at the comments. I just quietly deleted the post he had never truly liked. And cleared the chat history he had never truly answered. It was time he got a taste of what it felt like to be completely erased.

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Ever since I got my own phone at five years old, I’ve been getting messages from a stranger. She calls me Mom. At three o’clock this morning, she messaged me again. “Mom, I dreamed of you again. The attic is leaking, and my stepmom made me soak up the water with a rag. But the rag was too small. I’ve been wiping all night, but it’s still wet. Mom, I’m so cold and hungry right now. I miss you so much…” I tilted my head, watching the rain lash against the windowpane, and typed back a serious reply: “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Where are you? Mommy will bring you something yummy to eat!” 1. “Who are you?” A message shot back almost instantly. I was confused. I blinked my big eyes and pouted. “Weren’t you the one who called me Mom?” Why is she asking who I am now? To prove I was a responsible mother, I even added a cute and patient little smiley face at the end. 🙂 But I waited for a long, long time. My daughter never replied, and I drifted off into a hazy sleep. The next morning, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the first thing I did was fumble for my phone. There was a new message on the screen. From my daughter. “You’re not my mom. My mom passed away five years ago.” I looked down at my own round little tummy and puffed out my chest, planting my hands firmly on my hips. “That’s rude! I’m only five years old, and I’m alive and kicking!” A moment later, it hit me. Her mom must have disappeared five years ago. My mommy says that when people disappear, they come back as new people. And I’m exactly five years old. Maybe I really am her mom. Whenever we play house, I’m famous among all the other kids for being the best mommy! I was just about to share this brilliant discovery with her when a new message arrived. “I don’t know who you are, but thank you.” “This was my mom’s old phone number. Today is my 18th birthday. If it’s not too much to ask, could you… could you wish me a happy birthday?” I slipped my feet into my bunny slippers, recorded a voice note in my squeaky little voice, and sent it to her. “Happy birthday, sweetie! Be happy and eat yummy candy every day!” Then another thought struck me. Every year on my birthday, Mom and Dad give me presents. So my daughter must need a big birthday present too, right? I started typing again. “It’s your birthday! What present do you want from Mommy?” “Mommy likes cute dolls and chocolate. What do you like?” The girl on the other end hesitated for a long time before replying. “Could you… could you send me a few painkillers?” I didn’t know what painkillers were. But I knew that people only take medicine when they’re sick. I quickly typed back, “Sweetie, are you sick?” “My stepmom locked me in the attic last night…” she began, as if she was afraid I’d misunderstand. “She said I stole money and locked me in the attic and beat me. My body hurts all over. All I want is a painkiller.” Stepmothers sounded awful. Just like the evil queen in Snow White. I huffed, my cheeks puffing out as I messaged my daughter. “Your stepmom is a mean, mean monster! Don’t worry, sweetie. Don’t be scared. My dad is super strong. I’ll get him to go bite your stepmom to get revenge for you!” I immediately asked for her address and scampered downstairs to find Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper. “Mrs. Gable! Lily needs a courier!” Then I grabbed the medicine box from the cabinet, got down on the floor, and started rummaging through it with my little bottom stuck in the air. The boxes were a kaleidoscope of colors, but I couldn’t read any of them. I looked left, I looked right, but nothing seemed right. Mrs. Gable saw my little face scrunched up in concentration and chuckled. “Lily, honey, what are you doing with the medicine box?” I looked up at her. “Mrs. Gable, which one of these is for pain?” Her expression immediately turned serious. She scooped me up from the floor, her hand gently touching my forehead and palms. “What’s wrong, Lily-bug? Are you hurt somewhere?” I shook my head obediently. “I’m not hurt. But it’s my daughter’s birthday, and I need to send her some painkillers!” Mrs. Gable, thinking I was playing with one of my dolls, smiled and gently corrected me. “Oh, sweetie. On birthdays, we eat cake, not painkillers.” Her words were a revelation. I slapped my forehead. Of course! For her birthday, I needed to send my daughter not just painkillers, but also a little cake and some sweet, sweet candy. That way, the medicine wouldn’t taste so bitter. 2. I immediately asked Mrs. Gable to help me order a cute little cake. She had no idea what I was up to, but she thoughtfully placed the order for me anyway. I chose an adorable unicorn cake, bought two boxes of painkillers, and added a bag of my most treasured, super-secret stash of cream-filled candies that I hardly ever let myself eat. I packed everything into a cute pink bag and had a courier deliver it to my daughter’s school. “To my dearest sweetie, Mommy got you lots of presents. Remember to eat a piece of candy after you take the medicine so it won’t be bitter. Happy Birthday!” After the order was complete, I made sure to ask the courier, “Sir, is my daughter okay?” The courier let out a soft sigh. “That poor girl… she was covered in bruises, all black and blue. Looked like she’s been abused. Her clothes were full of patches, and her face was so pale. It was heartbreaking to see.” My heart twisted into a knot as I listened. What mother wouldn’t worry about her daughter? A little while later, my daughter sent me a photo of her eating the cake. “Thank you. This is the first time I’ve had a birthday cake since my mom died. The cake is delicious, and the candy is so sweet.” “You’re welcome, sweetie! From now on, Mommy will get you a cake for every single birthday!” “Thank you, Mom.” Gleefully, I opened my phone and searched online: How to raise a daughter. The internet said you have to spoil your daughter, give her all the most wonderful things in the world… I nodded in understanding, my gaze slowly falling upon my little pink piggy bank. When my mom walked into my room with a strawberry milkshake, I was whacking my piggy bank with a small toy hammer. Clang! Clang! Clang! Coins scattered across the carpet like fizzy candy, and I was on all fours, picking them up one by one. “This one is for candy for my daughter… this one is for a new dress… this one is for the newest toy… and this one is for Daddy, so he can go teach her stepmom a lesson!” My mom leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing on her lips as she listened to my muttering. “Lily-bug, why did you smash your favorite piggy bank? Is there a new toy you want to buy?” I scrambled up and threw my arms around her legs excitedly. “I have a daughter now, so of course I have to provide for her!” Mom was stunned. “Where did you get a daughter?” I held up my phone, pointing to the text messages on the screen. “I found her myself! She’s a poor, pitiful girl with no mommy, and her stepmom bullies her.” “I read online that raising a daughter is very expensive. I have to start working hard now.” Mom looked at me, a helpless expression on her face, and tried to explain patiently, “Honey, there are a lot of bad people in the world. Not everyone loves you like Mommy and Daddy do. What if the person on the other end is a scammer?” But I didn’t believe her. “No way. If she was a scammer, she would have asked for lots and lots of presents. But my daughter only asked for a single painkiller.” “Her mommy left her. If I, her new mommy, don’t take care of her, her stepmom will bully her to death!” Mom sighed. “No, she won’t. The police will help her.” I shook my head. “The police can’t help everyone. But I’m her mom. I’ll protect her.” Just then, my dad walked in. The briefcase in his hand thudded to the floor. “What? My baby is a mother?” “But Lily, you’re still so little. You don’t even know how to tie your own shoes yet…” “You don’t have to know how to tie shoes to be a mommy!” I retorted, tilting my head. “To be a mommy, you just have to wipe away tears, share your candy, and…” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed both of my parents on the cheek. “And you have to say ‘I love you’ a hundred times every single day!” “I know I can be a good mommy!” 3. My parents, left speechless by my declaration, let out a soft sigh. “Alright, then. We believe you can be a good mommy, too.” “But we need to make sure you’re safe. So, we’re going to do a little background check on this girl, okay?” I didn’t really understand what they were talking about. All I knew was that my daughter was a good, sweet girl, and my parents would definitely love her too. That night, my daughter sent me a picture. It was a dark, cramped attic, with a single, thin quilt spread out on the cold floor. “This is where I sleep every night.” Looking at that dark, miserable attic, my heart ached for her. I turned and took a picture of the star projector in my own room. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. I’ll share my starlight with you!” She replied with a smiling face. “Okay!” Then she sent another photo. It was a faded family portrait. In it, she was smiling brightly, held by a beautiful woman who had a distinct mole on her ear… I scrambled out of bed and looked at my own ear in the mirror. Then I ran to show my mom. “Mommy, look! I have the same mark on my ear as my daughter’s mom!” I carefully took a picture of my ear and sent it. “My grandpa told me that when people pass away, they come back to this world with a gift. See? I have a mole in the exact same spot as your mom!” The phone was silent for a long time. Finally, the girl on the other end replied softly. “Will you… will you stay with me forever, then? Mom.” “Of course!” I knew, deep down, that this was different from playing house. This time, I had a real daughter. And I would always be there for her. Later that evening, my grandma and grandpa sent me some gift money. Without a second thought, I generously transferred it all to my daughter. The girl on the other end was shocked. “Why are you giving me money?” I told her, “Because you’re my daughter! It’s a mommy’s job to give her daughter an allowance!” She immediately sent the transfer back. The chat bubble showed she was typing, but it took a long time for the message to come through. “Thank you, but I really can’t take your money. My dad is a sailor, and he sends money for my tuition and living expenses to the school. I can eat at the school cafeteria…” “Mom, all I need is for you to be here for me, to listen to me talk every day. That’s enough.” My eyes welled up. My daughter was so thoughtful and mature. “Okay. From now on, you can tell Mommy anything!” Suddenly, my phone started buzzing. It was a call from my daughter. I froze, not knowing what to do. What if she finds out I’m only five? Will she not let me be her mom anymore? After a moment of panic, I answered the call. From the other end, I could hear the drip-drip-drip of rain hitting the floor, and then an older girl’s voice. “Hello? Thank you for being willing to be here for me, in my mom’s place.” I tried to lower my voice, but I couldn’t hide the squeaky, childish tone. “It’s what a mommy’s supposed to do!” Her voice trembled. “Thank you. Right now… besides Ginger, you’re the only one who’s here for me.” I tilted my head. “Who’s Ginger?” “He was my mom’s cat. He’s nine years old now, a real old man.” My daughter sent a picture over. The orange cat in the photo was a round, fluffy ball, but the tips of his fur were turning white. You could tell he was an old-timer. I gasped in delight. “Wow, what a cute kitty! From now on, you’ll have me and the kitty with you. So don’t you be sad anymore, okay, daughter?” “Okay,” she whispered. “I won’t be sad.” And so, we started talking on the phone every night. She would share stories about her day at school, telling me that growing up was a journey full of both joy and challenges. And I would pick up the new fairytale book my mom bought me and read her the latest stories. My mom and dad would stand in my doorway, looking a little jealous. They’d shake their heads and say with a sigh, “See? The moment our daughter has a child of her own, she forgets all about us old folks!” “Lily, are you not sleeping with Mommy again tonight?” I looked up, my little face beaming with excitement. “Mommy, my daughter’s name is Autumn! Isn’t that a beautiful name?” “She sounds like a lovely princess!” My dad nodded with a weary smile. “Yes, yes. Your daughter is better than my daughter.” I pouted in protest. “Your daughter is pretty great too!”

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The head table at the Stewart Industries annual gala was a sacred space, reserved exclusively for core family members. So when I walked into the ballroom, I was surprised to see my husband, a man famously aloof, with a young, unfamiliar woman seated beside him. The girl offered a sweet smile and greeted me. “Good evening, Mrs. Stewart. I’m Julian’s new assistant, Alice Reed. It’s my first time at an event like this, so please bear with me.” I glanced at the head table. The seat that should have been mine was now occupied by her. Julian looked up and saw me, his expression unchanged. “Stephenie, this is Alice. I brought her tonight to give her some exposure.” I knew, in that moment, that this man was no longer worth my breath. As Stephenie Stanley, the jewel of the Stanley family, I would never stoop to squabbling over a man with his flavor of the month. It was beneath me. 1 I kept my eyes fixed on Alice. The girl immediately put on a wounded expression. “Mr. Stewart said he was just showing me the ropes… I’ll go find another table right away…” She said the words, but her body remained perfectly still, showing no intention of leaving. I looked at Julian. He was in a hushed conversation with the CFO, completely oblivious to our little drama. Alice added, “I accidentally tore my dress, and Mr. Stewart was kind enough to let me wait here for a replacement.” Only then did I notice the small tear in the hem of her skirt. My heart plunged into an icy abyss. The head table at a Stanley family event was reserved for blood relatives and their spouses. When Julian and I first married, even my own cousin was politely asked to move when he tried to sit there. In the business world, Julian Stewart was known as a block of ice. He kept everyone at a distance, his boundaries absolute. He wouldn’t even clink glasses properly with a female board member he’d worked with for years, let alone arrange for a replacement dress for a junior assistant—such a personal gesture. When had this man, so defined by his principles, started making exceptions for others? I remembered our engagement night, what he told me: “The Stanley family rules are my rules.” The focus in his eyes then had made me believe in him, in his principles. Now, something was silently crumbling. But I, Stephenie Stanley, was no pushover. “Get up.” My voice was quiet, but it cut through the low hum of the head table, silencing it instantly. Alice clearly hadn’t expected me to challenge her so publicly. The hand holding her dinner knife froze over her napkin. “Mrs… Mrs. Stewart…” Her eyes reddened instantly, and she cast a helpless, pleading look at Julian. Julian finally looked up, his brow furrowed. “Stephenie, she’s just sitting here for a moment. It’s not a big deal.” He paused, then added, “She’s just an intern. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” “Julian,” I interrupted, my fingertip tapping lightly on the table. “Do I need to repeat the rules of this family to you?” The entire table held its breath. Alice finally grasped the gravity of the situation. She scrambled to her feet, knocking over a champagne flute in her haste. “I’m… I’m so sorry…” she stammered, a few strands of hair falling from her meticulously styled bun. Julian rubbed his temples. “Just go to the powder room for now.” I watched his attempt to smooth things over and found it utterly laughable. I gestured to the head butler. “Please escort Ms. Reed to one of the side lounges. And have all the place settings at the head table replaced.” As I turned, I caught a glimpse of Alice’s clenched fists, the tips of her ears burning red with humiliation. And Julian? He was checking to see if she’d been cut by the broken glass. “The gala is cancelled,” I announced to the room. “Please, enjoy the rest of your evening.” I walked toward the exit without a backward glance. Julian caught my arm. “Stephenie, are you angry?” “She’s just an intern. Why humiliate her in public?” I looked at the way he was defending her and suddenly wanted to laugh. My husband was pleading with me on behalf of another woman. “Julian,” I said, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle on my sleeve, “are you sure you want to have this conversation here?” He understood my meaning immediately. I was forcing him to choose, right here, in front of everyone: defend the little assistant, or preserve the dignity of our marriage. Julian took my hand and walked with me out of the ballroom. “This is the first time an outsider has ever dared to sit at the Stanley family table.” My voice was soft, but it made Julian’s spine go rigid. He knew exactly what I was referring to. Who in our world didn’t know about Julian Stewart’s boundaries? Countless heiresses and socialites had tried to get close to him, only to be coldly rebuffed. Female assistants sent by business partners never even made it past their probation period. He let out a low chuckle, his fingertips tracing my tense jawline. “So, the great Stephenie Stanley does get jealous?” His warm lips pressed against my forehead. “She’s just a clueless new hire. I’ll have her transferred to a branch office tomorrow.” Julian tilted my face up, his eyes, magnified by his glasses, were focused and deep. “There will only ever be one mistress of my life, and that is you.” I stroked the diamond ring on my finger and said nothing. Don’t disappoint me, Julian. 2 The very next day, Julian disappointed me. I’d seen the way Alice looked at him during the gala, the little spark in her eye that gave away her ambition. I had thought that publically ejecting her from the head table would have been lesson enough. But then I was scrolling through my social media feed this morning and saw Alice’s post from the Maldives. “Thank you, Mr. Stewart, for the special reward! My first time flying first class~” The post included a picture of a first-class boarding pass and a screenshot of her chat with Julian. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. I knew that flight number. It was the route for Julian’s private jet. So, when Julian said “transfer,” he meant a transfer to the Maldives branch office. The bitter irony was that today was supposed to be our wedding anniversary. He had told me yesterday he was too busy with work and we’d have to reschedule. A sharp pain, like a needle, pricked my chest. I grabbed my phone, ready to call him. But then I stopped. To lose my composure over someone like her was beneath me. I dialed my travel agent. “Michael, I need you to book out every single five-star hotel room in Tahiti. For today.” The next day, while Alice was still posting selfies from the Maldives, every single employee in the company—except for her—received an all-expenses-paid, seven-day vacation package to Tahiti from me. Even the cleaning staff got one. My executive assistant, being the pro she is, made sure everyone posted about it. 【Thank you, Mrs. Stewart! This is what it feels like to work for the real boss!~】 【[Heart.jpg] Off to Tahiti!】 The posts were all accompanied by photos of first-class tickets and five-star hotel confirmations. The entire company played along with gleeful enthusiasm. In the corporate world, everyone knows which way the wind blows. Within an hour, the entire business community was buzzing about Stewart Industries’ lavish company retreat. The Director of Marketing posted a video of a stunning blue ocean in the 500-person company-wide group chat and then tagged Alice. 【@AliceReed How come you’re not here? Even the entire finance department made it.】 The chat went silent for three seconds. 【Oh, wait, my bad. I just remembered, I don’t think Alice got a ticket.】 He followed it with a “my lips are sealed” emoji. The group exploded. 【I heard there’s a typhoon in the Maldives right now.】 【The weather here is amazing! I just saw Mrs. Stewart going snorkeling.】 【Alice must be holding down the fort at the office, right? Poor thing, working so hard.】 Reading the messages, a satisfied smile touched my lips. When they all returned a week later, the gossip was still flying. “Did she really think she was the lady of the manor?” “Mrs. Stewart’s move was savage.” “The only person in the entire company left to watch the office… hahaha.” Alice frantically tried to wipe away her tears, accidentally knocking over her makeup bag in the process. The clatter of a lipstick rolling across the floor drew even more knowing glances. When Julian returned, he found Alice standing outside his office, clutching an envelope. “Mr. Stewart,” she said, her voice trembling, “I’d like to transfer you the money for the flight.” Julian frowned and took the ticket receipt. “The company group chat is going crazy.” Tears streamed down Alice’s face. “They’re saying… they’re saying I was the only one left behind…” She choked back a sob and showed him her phone, the screen filled with pictures of her colleagues partying in Tahiti. Alice’s fingers dug into the fabric of her skirt, her voice a barely audible whisper. “I honestly didn’t think Mrs. Stewart would be so upset…” She lifted her red-rimmed eyes, looking like a frightened rabbit. “Mr. Stewart, I’m willing to apologize to her in person… I’ll get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness if that’s what it takes.” Julian rubbed his temples. He never looked at employee social media, but the corporate retreat report from HR was currently flooding his inbox with pictures of Tahiti. A report in which Alice Reed was conspicuously absent. “Come home with me,” he said.

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1 Just because my wife’s new favorite, Jack, wanted to see some jet ski action, Isabel planned the entire company retreat at a secluded resort on the Atlantic coast. Jack suggested a jet ski race for everyone, but having just had a liver transplant, all I wanted was to go back to the hotel and rest. Isabel flew into a rage. “It’s just one race. Are you really going to humiliate me in front of the whole company?” Shaking with anger, I slammed my fist against the jet ski. “Have you forgotten how precious this new liver is?” Isabel froze for a second, then immediately softened, handing me a thermos of warm broth. “I’m sorry, Neo. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll take you back.” But when I woke up again, I found myself strapped to a jet ski, floating over a bed of massive, jagged reefs. The next second, Jack gunned the engine. I was flung into the churning waves, my body half-submerged in the violent sea. Choking on saltwater, I frantically pressed the emergency button on my watch. “Dad,” I gasped into the device, “get the Coast Guard to lock down this entire area. Someone is trying to kill me, and I want them to pay.” 2 Jack just laughed, turning to Isabel. “So, what’s Neo’s dad do? He sounds like a big shot!” Isabel didn’t answer, but her assistant doubled over with laughter. “His dad’s just a retired old man. Spends his days bird-watching in the park.” She even mimicked looking through a pair of binoculars. The group on the shore erupted in laughter. Jack wrapped an arm around Isabel’s waist, looking smug. “He only had a liver transplant, not brain surgery. Why’s he starting to talk nonsense?” “Oh, let’s just get him back,” he added with false concern. “We wouldn’t want to actually scare him to death.” Isabel chimed in immediately. “See how kind and considerate Jack is? Not like some people, who get one little surgery and act like a total princess.” I gripped the jet ski’s handlebars, ignoring their mockery. Massive waves crashed over me, making the machine buck violently. Nausea rose in my throat. The safety strap dug into my incision, but I could only grit my teeth and hold on. I clung to the handles, screaming toward the shore. “Isabel! I just had surgery! My wound hasn’t healed! This is dangerous!” A wave slapped me across the face. “Don’t you remember? I’m terrified of the water!” The memory flooded back. A college trip to the beach. Isabel had been collecting shells and was swept away by a rogue wave. Without a second thought, I had jumped in, fighting the current to drag her back to shore. I remember her kneeling on the sand, drenched and sobbing, clinging to my hand like a child. “Neo, you saved my life! I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you!” After that day, I developed a crippling phobia of water. I couldn’t even get into a bathtub. The vow from that day echoed in my ears, a bitter, hollow joke. Now, I was helpless, tossed about by the waves, while the woman I had saved was laughing in another man’s arms on the shore. I felt like my heart was going to beat its way out of my chest. Isabel’s face grew darker, clearly furious that my “uncooperative” behavior was embarrassing her. Jack quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, smoothing things over. “Oh, come on. Neo’s just a little timid! A few more practice runs and he’ll get the hang of it! You’re always saying how capable he is, just that he lacks a young man’s nerve. Today’s the perfect chance for him to learn!” Jack’s fawning words made my stomach churn. Ever since Jack joined Isabel’s company, he had become her gold standard for what a “real man” should be. Day after day, she’d lecture me: “Look at how amazing Jack is! He’s a shark at work and knows how to handle people. You should learn from him!” She seemed to have forgotten that when she was chasing me, she used to say, “I love how calm and quiet you are. You’re not like those other macho guys.” Now, all my supposed virtues had become flaws that needed fixing. Another wave slammed into the jet ski, throwing me violently. The machine pitched forward, and my chest crashed into the hard console. A sharp, blinding pain shot from my chest through my entire body. “Aaargh—” I screamed, a cold sweat instantly drenching me. My hands trembled as I tried to steady the machine, but another monster wave hit, nearly flipping it vertical. 3 Isabel’s colleagues stood on the shore, smirking as they yelled out to me. “Hey, boss! Isn’t this exciting? Having fun?” “Wow, you’re so brave for a first-timer! Amazing!” Jack, still clinging to Isabel’s arm, called out in a sickeningly sweet voice, “How’s it feel, Neo? Isn’t it just the best?” Isabel stared at me with cold disgust. “It’s the same thing at every company event. It’s either too sunny or too tiring. Now we give you a chance to have some fun and you act like a coward. You’ll never fit in.” She turned to Jack. “See? This is the difference. The first time you tried this, you were fearless. Not a buzzkill like him.” Jack sighed with faux sympathy. “Oh, well. Maybe he’s just a little timid. But that won’t do. There are plenty more company events to come. He can’t just hide in his hotel room every time, can he?” The pain in my wound was a twisting agony, like a knife being turned in my gut. A warm liquid, my own blood, trickled from the incision, mixing with the seawater. Every jolt tore at the stitches, the pain so intense that my vision started to black out. I stretched a trembling hand toward the shore, my voice a hoarse rasp. “Isabel, stop it! I don’t know how to drive this! Which one is the brake?! My stomach… it hurts so much. The stitches are going to tear!” My face was as white as a sheet, my body soaked in a cold sweat. But Isabel just watched, a mocking smile playing on her lips. Jack hesitantly tugged on her arm. “Maybe we should stop? He is injured, after all. If this keeps up, something bad might really happen.” He pretended to plead for me, but a smirk he couldn’t control danced on his lips, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. Isabel snorted. “He’s scared now? Where was this attitude earlier? He needs to be taught a lesson, get that stick out of his ass! Always acting so high and mighty.” Another wave crashed down, slamming me against the edge of the jet ski. A jolt of pain made my vision go black, and I could feel warm blood gushing from the wound. Jack’s eyes lit up. He clapped his hands together. “This is getting boring just watching!” He pulled several high-pressure water guns from a bag. “Let’s play a game! Whoever hits Neo with the water gun gets a big reward!” “A thousand dollars for a shot to the chest!” he added excitedly. The colleagues around him cheered and eagerly grabbed the water guns. 4 Weakly, I looked at them and pleaded with Isabel one more time. “Isabel… you make me those special broths every day to help me heal. You said we’d go hiking as soon as I was better.” Cold sweat and tears streamed down my face. “Last week, at my check-up, the doctor said the transplant was a success. You said you’d take me to see the Grand Canyon once I recovered.” Isabel’s expression darkened, and her voice softened. “Maybe we should stop? This game is stupid anyway.” She turned away, avoiding my gaze, her tone uncertain. “Let’s play something else?” Jack threw his water gun down, his face thunderous. “Isabel! What is this? You’re backing out on me again?” He kicked the water gun on the ground. “Forget it! And you can forget about the company’s bid this year, too!” Isabel panicked, grabbing his wrist. “No, no, no, I was just talking.” She forced a placating smile. “Let’s keep playing, okay? We’ll keep playing.” Jack shook her off, his eyes narrowing. “Forget it! I’m not in the mood anymore!” He turned to leave. Isabel, her forehead beaded with sweat, rushed to hug him from behind. “Jack, don’t be like this.” She cooed at him, completely forgetting about me, still stranded in the sea. The twisting pain in my wound intensified. I could feel my life slipping away. Isabel quickly pulled out the keys to a luxury sports car she had prepared. “Baby, don’t be mad. I bought this just for you!” Jack’s eyes lit up, but he still played hard to get. “Is this really for me?” “Of course, it’s for you!” Isabel quickly had someone bring the car around. “It’s the one you wanted!” Jack caressed the keys, finally smiling. “Now, that’s more like it.” He shot a smug glance at me, still adrift in the water. “So… is the game back on?” Isabel took the hint immediately, eager to please. “Of course! We’ll play however you want!” She turned and shouted at me, “Did you hear that? You better cooperate!” The pain in my abdomen was so severe I could barely speak. On the shore, the two of them had already picked up their water guns again, ready for the next round of their “game.” High-pressure streams of water shot toward me. The icy jets hit my wound, and the pain sent a wave of blackness over my eyes. “Isabel! Why?” I curled into a ball on the jet ski, my voice a ragged whisper. “Why are you doing this to me?” Isabel glanced back impatiently. “What do you know! Jack is the heir to the Sterling Corporation! If I make him happy, his father will throw some money our way, and our company can finally go public!”

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I ran into a burning building to save my wife. The smoke inhalation left me with the mind of an eight-year-old. When everyone suggested she divorce the man I’d become, my wife, Sophia, swore she would care for me like her own child. But just as I’d grown completely dependent on her, I overheard her talking to Larry, the man she’d hired as my live-in caregiver. “Just be patient,” she’d said, her voice a low murmur. “Ethan’s a simpleton now. Divorcing him at this stage would be a financial disaster for us.” “Once I’m pregnant with your child,” she continued, “the entire Blackwood Industries will be ours for the taking. And after that… whether he has a little fall off a cliff or accidentally drowns… well, that’ll be our story to tell.” The bouquet of roses I was holding slipped from my grasp. The moment the petals scattered across the floor, the love I had for her shattered along with them. I thought our love was a fortress we’d built together. I never imagined I was the only one living inside. In the crushing weight of that disappointment, I decided. I would divorce her. But when I confronted her, the woman I’d found wrapped in another man’s arms told me it was all a misunderstanding. That she still loved me. … The moment the doctor confirmed my cognitive functions were back to normal, my heart pounded against my ribs. Leaving the hospital, I went straight to the best florist in town, eager to surprise Sophia. I never, ever expected this to be the surprise waiting for me. My gaze fell to the scattered rose petals on the floor, each one a shard of glass in my heart. I shoved the door open, my shadow falling over the two figures tangled on the bed. Sophia didn’t even bother to untangle herself from Larry. Instead, a sly, seductive smile played on her lips as she crooked a finger at me. “Ethan, sweetie, where did you go play today? Do you want to help your big sis with a little something?” The teacup I’d picked up from the hall table flew from my hand, shattering against the wall beside them. I strode to the edge of the bed. They exchanged a flicker of a glance, a spark of fear in their eyes. Sophia quickly sat up, her voice a careful, testing purr. “Oh, did Ethan figure out our little game? Do you want to play with us?” Her probing tone was the splash of cold water I needed. It snapped me out of my rage and back into reality. Sophia was currently in charge of the company. If I pushed them too far right now, who knew what they were capable of? I forced the ice from my face, replacing it with a look of wide-eyed, childish innocence. “Ethan went to get pretty flowers for Sophy,” I mumbled, my voice thick with a manufactured pout. “But… I dropped them when I came in.” I looked down, fidgeting with my fingers, channeling every ounce of panic I felt into the performance. My mind was a chaotic mess. The car accident yesterday had caused temporary amnesia, and for a terrifying moment, I’d forgotten how to act like the simpleton they believed me to be. Sophia glanced at the ruined flowers on the floor and let out a derisive snort. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll give you some money to buy more later. But right now, I need you to go to the store and buy me some—” Larry cut her off, pulling her back into his arms. He tilted her chin up with one hand, a smirk playing on his lips. “Big sis? I like the sound of that. How about you try calling me that in bed sometime? Might make me even wilder, you know.” They flirted openly, completely ignoring my presence. So, they don’t suspect a thing. Larry’s hand slid slowly beneath the sheets. Sophia’s head lolled back, a soft, breathy moan escaping her lips. The sight of their languid, intimate kisses sent a jolt through my brain, like a flash of lightning. And then the memories I’d temporarily lost came rushing back, a tidal wave of degradation. This past year, scenes like this had played out in front of me countless times. Often, in the middle of their… activities, Sophia would call me in from the living room where I’d be watching cartoons. Sometimes it was to fetch them a glass of water. Other times, it was to send me out to a specialty shop for lubricant or toys. I never understood what they were for. I just knew that if I did what she said, I’d get a full dinner that night. The memory of it now was so vile it made my stomach churn. As I gagged, Sophia shoved Larry away and swung her legs off the bed, striding toward me. A sour, intimate scent—their scent—wafted over, clinging to her. I couldn’t stop my nose from wrinkling in disgust. That small expression was enough to ignite her temper. The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re simple, not deaf!” she snarled, her face twisted with fury. “Now get out and buy me some lube. And if you don’t come back, you can just die out there for all I care.” Larry quickly got up and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Hey, don’t get worked up,” he murmured soothingly. “He’s just a fool. We’ll get rid of him as soon as Blackwood Industries is ours.” Sophia nodded, leaning back against him. The rage I’d been suppressing finally boiled over. I swung a fist, connecting solidly with the corner of Larry’s mouth. Sophia stared at me in shock before rushing to check on Larry’s injury. Seeing it was just a split lip, she whirled on me, her voice a furious whip. “Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you today? Disobeying me, hitting people… Do you want to be locked up again?” When she first brought me home, I’d been confused and clumsy, making a mess of the house. Enraged, she had slapped me and locked me in the dark, musty storage closet. I screamed and cried and apologized until my voice was gone, but she never opened the door. For three days, I was starved, terrified, and forced to relieve myself in a corner until the stench made me vomit. She only let me out when my mother insisted on taking me to a rehabilitation clinic. After that, the fear of the closet made me obedient. Sophia learned to use it as a threat, locking me away whenever I failed to please her. Over time, it became my own personal hell. I reverted to my old coping mechanism. Clapping my hands over my ears, I scrambled under the dining table. “No! No! Ethan’s sorry! I’ll be good!” “Here’s the money.” Sophia tossed a few bills that fluttered down onto my face. “Now get out and buy what I told you to. You can use what’s left to get a burger.” She turned and slammed the bedroom door shut. A moment later, the sound of their soft, shameless moans began again. I didn’t go to the adult store. I walked out of the house and hailed a cab, giving the driver the address of my former secretary, Nina. As the city lights blurred past the window, a bitter sting pricked my eyes. We’d been together for five years, married for three. Our families called us the golden couple; our friends called us a match made in heaven. I never could have imagined that the moment I was hurt, she would bring another man into our home. The excuse she gave my parents was that she needed someone strong to help manage me. In reality, he was there to warm her bed. Disappointment washed over me, a cold, heavy tide. The four years of our courtship played like a movie in my mind. After we married, I turned down every late-night business dinner so she wouldn’t feel neglected. But she was the one who encouraged me, telling me a man’s world was outside the home and she would always be my support. When I did come home late, no matter the hour, she would have a warm bowl of soup waiting for me. When my parents were hospitalized one after another, she refused to let the hired nurses do everything. She ran herself ragged at the hospital, insisting it was her duty as a daughter-in-law. She loved me, she said, so she was willing to do anything for me. Every time I saw her selfless devotion, I was filled with a profound gratitude, a fierce desire to protect her for the rest of my life. We were so in love. How did we end up here? Was it simply because I was injured saving her? Did that give her the right to betray me? I felt like I was missing something crucial, a piece of the puzzle that remained just out of reach. Just as I was lost in thought, the taxi pulled up. Nina opened her door, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw me standing there alone. She rushed forward to steady me. “Mr. Blackwood… Ethan, how did you get here by yourself?” The formal “Mr. Blackwood” slipped out, and for a second, the light in her eyes flickered and died. It returned just as quickly, replaced by a warm, gentle smile as she led me inside. I sat on the sofa, my gaze sharp as I looked at her. “I need an update on the company’s current status.” Nina began her report as if no time had passed at all. “The company isn’t doing well, sir. If it weren’t for your father’s backing, Blackwood Industries would have already lost its position as a market leader. Future prospects are…” She trailed off, her professional mask slipping as she studied me, a hopeful, cautious question in her eyes. “Mr. Blackwood… are you… back?” When I nodded, tears welled in her eyes and traced paths down her cheeks. Sophia had fired her shortly after I was diagnosed. Everything she knew now came from old colleagues still loyal to me. She told me that as soon as Sophia took over, she began systematically replacing my entire executive team. Hearing this, I frowned. It was all too convenient, too planned. It was as if Sophia had been preparing for this all along. Seeing the doubt on my face, Nina voiced a suspicion she’d had since the beginning. “Sir, the official report says your condition was caused by smoke inhalation. But I was at the hospital. You had a head injury. Isn’t it possible it was… deliberate?” A head injury that didn’t match the official medical report. It was more than suspicious; it was a smoking gun. To keep Sophia and my parents from discovering I’d recovered, I made Nina swear to secrecy. I also asked her to discreetly investigate the discrepancy in the medical records. With a plan in place, the crushing weight on my chest eased slightly. Right on cue, my phone rang. It was Sophia. I answered, and her furious voice erupted from the speaker. “Ethan, where the hell are you? It’s been two hours! You could’ve bought gold in that time!” … The second I walked through the door, Sophia snatched the bottle of lubricant from my hand. She twisted the cap off and, with a vicious grin, squeezed the contents all over my head. In moments, the cold, sticky gel was running down my face and into my collar. She watched my humiliation, a cruel laugh bubbling up. “Isn’t this a fun game, Ethan?” I shook my head, and she slapped me again, hard. “Don’t you dare tell anyone,” she hissed, her face close to mine. “Or I’ll make you play games like this every single day.” I nodded quickly, obediently. My compliance seemed to satisfy her. She pointed a manicured finger toward the bedroom. “Go clean up in there.” I stood in the doorway, staring at the chaotic mess of tangled sheets and discarded clothes. My hands clenched into tight fists. I bit the inside of my cheek, a raw, venomous hatred coiling in my gut. If I found proof that she was behind what happened to me, I would make her pay. After mechanically tidying the bed, I retrieved the pinhole camera I’d bought on my way back and installed it in a dark corner of the room, hidden behind a bookshelf. Once it was done, I went back to the living area. Larry was setting plates of food on the dining table. He shot me a mocking look. “Sophia, let’s let Ethan eat at the table with us tonight.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Sophia’s face, but as Larry untied his apron, revealing he was wearing nothing underneath, her expression softened into a coquettish smile. She wriggled onto his lap, her body moving against his. Their intimacy made me feel like an intruder in my own home. After a soft moan, Sophia pointed to an empty chair and glared at me. “Well? Do I have to personally invite you to sit down?” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and sat, keeping my head down as I shoveled food into my mouth. And just like that, with me sitting right there, the rhythmic creak of the chair began, accompanied by their soft, shameless moans. Perhaps my silence as an audience member displeased them. Sophia rapped her knuckles on the table, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Ethan, all this… exercise… is making your big sis tired. Why don’t you be a good boy and feed me?” Her question was a command. After all this time with her, I knew her every nuance. But the hatred burning inside me made it impossible to play along, to serve her while she flaunted her betrayal. When I didn’t move, she shot up from Larry’s lap and swept my bowl off the table, sending it crashing to the floor. “Then eat on the floor where you belong!” she shrieked. “You’re just a pathetic fool! How dare you defy me? Are you asking for it?” The humiliation was a physical blow. I stared up at her, my eyes blazing with fury. “You told Mom and Dad you’d take care of me,” I choked out. “You’re being mean!” “Mean?” She let out a chilling laugh. “Oh, sweetie, you haven’t seen anything yet.” She gestured to Larry, who grabbed me and shoved me to the floor. She then picked up clumps of rice and meat from the shattered bowl and began forcing them into my mouth. His hands pinned my arms, making it impossible to struggle. “Sophia,” I snarled through a mouthful of food, “you will pay for this.” She just sneered and had Larry drag me to the storage closet, throwing me inside. As the door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness, my mind was flooded with images of their fists and feet, of the pain and the terror. I fumbled for my phone, its weak light illuminating the walls. They were covered in gouges and scratches. My own fingernail marks. Stained with dried, blackened blood. Seeing that, the very last ember of love I had for Sophia was extinguished. If she was going to be this cruel, then I would show her no mercy. … That night, after the camera feed showed they were both sound asleep, I used the spare key to let myself out of the closet. I went straight to the study. Rummaging through the desk drawers, I found it: my real hospital file. 【Patient suffers from decreased cognitive function due to a subdural hematoma, caused by external trauma…】 Ever since I’d come home, my nightmares had been filled with fire, with the suffocating feeling of being trapped and helpless. I’d always assumed it was a lingering trauma from the smoke inhalation, a phantom memory of being too weak to stand. It never once occurred to me that I hadn’t been able to save myself because I had been attacked. Whenever I woke up from those nightmares, I would seek out Sophia. Just holding onto her arm was enough to make the fear recede. That was the real reason my parents could never convince me to leave with them. I sat there for a long time, the truth settling in my stomach like a block of ice. Then my eyes fell on another file—the falsified one. The one that matched the story she’d been telling everyone. Could it be? Was the injury… intentional? As I reeled from the implication, I heard two sounds simultaneously: a notification on my phone and the click of the study door opening. I glanced at my phone first, then looked up. Sophia stood in the doorway, her face a mask of panic as she scanned my expression for any sign of recognition. But she was too late. The moment I heard the door, I had wiped my face clean, reverting to my blank, simple-minded stare. Seeing nothing amiss, she walked over and gently took the files from my hands. Her voice was a soft, cooing lie. “Sweetie, what are you doing in here? You’re supposed to be in the closet thinking about what you did.” I didn’t speak. I just stared at her, watching the guilt flicker in her eyes. She nervously touched her nose. “Your mind will get better soon, I promise. In a little while, I’ll take you abroad to see the very best doctors, okay?” Her empty promises finally drew a reaction from me. A cold, knowing smile spread across my face. “If I go abroad with you,” I asked, my voice chillingly clear, “will I ever come back alive?” The color drained from Sophia’s face. Her probing gaze shifted to one of pure, unadulterated panic. “What are you talking about? Of course you’ll come back! You’re my Ethan. I would never, ever leave you alone in a foreign country.” It was then I realized she wore a mask for me, a carefully constructed illusion of a loving wife. The confrontation at dinner had put her on high alert. After locking me in the closet, she had dragged Larry into the bedroom, her voice a frantic whisper on the hidden camera’s feed. She was worried I was acting differently, terrified the blood clot in my brain had dissolved and I was regaining my senses. Larry had initially tried to calm her, but then he remembered the punch I’d landed on him that afternoon, and his face had darkened. To secure their absolute control over Blackwood Industries, they hatched a plan. In three days, they would take me abroad. There, they would stage an “accident,” and I would die. My death would be a tragic story of their own making, a tale no one would question. After all, a man with the mind of a child is curious about everything. It would be my own fault, a tragic consequence of my condition. Watching the recording of their conspiracy, I knew for certain: everything that had happened was their doing. In the past year, I’d been in every room of this house, but the study was the one place Sophia had strictly forbidden me from entering. So I’d waited until they were asleep, searching for the truth. I hadn’t even been in here for five minutes before she appeared. A classic case of a guilty conscience. I was done pretending. I held up my phone, playing the video of their bedroom conversation for her to see. “I know about your plan,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “I heard everything you said about how you’re going to kill me.”

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1 Our new intern Valerie boasted about pulling all-nighters, earning office-wide admiration as the “hustle queen.” But while she thrived, I—the disciplined one—was crumbling. Dark circles deepened under my eyes with each of her sleepless nights. When she bragged about two hours of sleep, my heart pounded like a drum. My doctor was shocked. “Your organs are failing like a 60-year-old’s,” he warned. “This will kill you.” But I slept eight hours nightly. Why was I dying? Confronting Valerie only drew colleagues’ scorn. “If you’re so tired,” my boss sneered, “maybe the night shift suits you better.” She won a major deal by being available 24/7. I collapsed dead on my night shift. Then I woke up—back to Valerie’s first week. This time, I emptied a bottle of sleeping pills into her coffee. … “Hannah? What are you doing?” I had just finished grinding the pills into a fine powder and stirring them in when Valerie materialized behind me like a ghost. My hand jerked, and I fought to compose myself, turning around as if nothing had happened. “Valerie, what kind of coffee is this? Is this your secret? How can you work all week without a wink of sleep and still not be tired?” I forced a smile, but inside, I wanted to claw that perfect face of hers to shreds. Because I was the only one who knew the truth. The reason she was never tired was because she was siphoning her exhaustion directly into me. The first day Valerie started, she’d volunteered to organize a mountain of expense reports. It was a stack of files half a person high, yet she finished it in a single all-nighter. The boss was grinning from ear to ear. “Great work, Valerie! Go home and get some rest today!” But Valerie, who hadn’t slept a wink, was radiant. “No need, sir! I only need three hours of sleep a night!” I was standing right there, and I remember my head feeling foggy, my eyelids as heavy as lead. Later that day, I fell asleep in a meeting and got a harsh scolding from the boss. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it, just that I hadn’t rested well. But Valerie’s work hours grew longer and longer, from staying until 1 AM, then 3 AM, until finally, she stopped going home at all. The boss praised her dedication. She just smiled humbly. “I was born this way. I don’t need much sleep.” Meanwhile, my condition worsened. The circles under my eyes were so dark they looked like bruises. I could fall asleep standing up. Once, while I was at the copy machine, my vision suddenly went black. When I came to, Valerie was kneeling beside me, her face a mask of concern. “Hannah, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?” I looked at her glowing face, then at my own haggard reflection in the glass of the machine, and a chill snaked down my spine. Later, she accompanied the boss on a business trip and went seventy-two hours without sleep. The morning she returned, I woke up with a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. It was so intense I fell to my knees, gasping for air. I called the boss to ask for a sick day, only to be met with his cold laughter. “Sick again? Hannah, your performance has really been slipping lately! Look at Valerie! She’s been pulling double shifts without a single complaint. Maybe you just don’t want your bonus this year!” I dragged myself to the hospital, where I was told my body’s vital functions were deteriorating rapidly, worse than those of a sixty-year-old. Devastated, I confronted Valerie, but no one believed me. My colleagues thought I was jealous. The boss, in a fit of rage, banished me to the night shift. I died without ever understanding how she did it. “Oh, it’s just a regular coffee concentrate! You can buy it online. Is something wrong, Hannah?” Valerie’s voice pulled me back to the present. I realized my fingers were digging into her wrist. “You’re hurting me…” she whimpered. Our colleagues immediately swarmed us, their fingers pointing at me. “Hannah, why are you bullying her? Valerie already told you, she’s special. She doesn’t need sleep. You can’t get that from drinking a cup of coffee.” “Yeah, Hannah, look at the bags under your eyes. You’re the one staying up all night. A little self-discipline would do you more good than coffee!” Their faces were full of scorn. None of them knew I was in bed by 10 PM every single night, my routine as regular as a clock. “I’m just concerned about Valerie’s health,” I said, releasing her. “Pulling all-nighters like that can kill you.” I walked back to my desk, but I kept an eye on her out of the corner of my vision. Only when I saw her drain the entire cup of coffee did I relax. Sure enough, before the end of the workday, Valerie started yawning. I seized the opportunity. “Valerie, you’re nodding off. Maybe you should head home and rest?” She was about to refuse, but other colleagues, worried she might actually collapse, chimed in and urged her to leave. She had no choice but to abandon her plans for another all-nighter. That night, at 10 PM sharp, I went to bed. Let’s see you stay awake now, after a full dose of sleeping pills, I thought. 2 The next morning, I woke to bright sunlight streaming through my window. For the first time in weeks, my body felt light and refreshed. A wave of joy washed over me. The sleeping pills had worked. But a second later, a sharp pain shot through my temples. My vision went black, and my knees slammed into the floor. A violent nausea roiled in my stomach, as if I’d spent the night chugging cheap liquor. I knelt over the toilet, dry-heaving, my hands trembling as I pulled up Valerie’s social media feed. Her latest post was from 3 AM. “Still going strong at the club! A Long Island Iced Tea and three shots of tequila down, and I can still party all night!” I stared at the screen, a metallic taste rising in my throat. She used alcohol to fight off the sleeping pills. No wonder I felt like I had a raging hangover. She hadn’t slept at all. She’d been drinking all night. When I finally dragged myself to the office, I found Valerie, her makeup flawless, holding court as the center of attention. “Valerie, you were out until 4 AM and you still look this good? You’re incredible!” “Seriously, I’d be dead on my feet!” Valerie tossed her hair, unable to hide her smug satisfaction. “What can I say? I’m just built different. Alcohol doesn’t really affect me.” Her eyes darted to me, and she covered her mouth in mock horror. “Oh my god, Hannah, you look terrible! Don’t tell me you were out all night again?” Every head in the office snapped in my direction. “She looks like a ghost!” someone blurted out. I stood in the doorway, my face chalky white, my lips a sickly shade of gray, the dark circles under my eyes like deep bruises. “I…” I started to speak, but a wave of dizziness hit me, and I nearly fell. Valerie rushed to steady me. “Hannah, you have to take care of yourself. You can’t let your… nightlife… affect your work. You’ll slow down the whole team.” Her words shifted the atmosphere instantly. “So that’s why she’s always so tired lately. Her nights are more exciting than her days.” “She acted so professional before. The second she gets a promotion, her true colors come out.” “Who knows what she’s doing all night? Probably busy chasing guys.” The whispers came from all sides, but I didn’t even have the strength to argue. Looking at Valerie’s phony, concerned face, I couldn’t figure out how she was doing this. But I couldn’t just wait around to die. Suddenly, an idea came to me. I went straight to the boss’s office and handed in my resignation. He slammed his hands on the desk. “Hannah, you’ve been sleeping on the job for weeks! I should have fired you already, and now you have the nerve to quit?” “Fine! You walk out that door today, and I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted in this entire industry!” I didn’t hesitate. I walked out without looking back. My colleagues didn’t bat an eye at my resignation. Only my supervisor, Diane, stopped me. “Hannah, I trained you myself. I know you’re not the kind of person they’re saying you are. Is there something going on that’s affecting you?” My nose stung, and I nearly burst into tears. Diane had been my mentor, the only person who still seemed to believe in me. “You fought your way out of a small town and worked yourself to the bone to make it in this city. Are you really going to give all that up now?” I clenched my fists. Of course I wasn’t. But before my career, my future, my dreams… I had to stay alive. “I’m sorry, Diane. I have to resign.” Back at my apartment, I drew the curtains, turned off all the lights, and prepared for a long, deep sleep. If sleeping pills didn’t work, then I would just cut myself off from Valerie completely. Surely, she couldn’t transfer her exhaustion to me then. 3 I slept until the sun was high in the sky. When I woke up, I felt fantastic. “Did it work?” I shot up in bed, feeling an unprecedented lightness in my body. For a moment, I was so overcome with relief that I started to cry. Valerie’s dark magic couldn’t touch me anymore! But just as I finished getting dressed and opened my door, ready to go out and celebrate with a good meal, a sudden, crushing pain seized my chest. My vision went black, and I collapsed. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital. “You’re awake. Your neighbor found you just in time,” a nurse said, frowning at me. “You had symptoms of a heart attack. If you keep pushing yourself like this, you won’t last another six months.” I ignored her, grabbing my phone and opening the company group chat. The Boss: “Valerie worked for 24 hours straight to get the proposal done before the client left. That’s what true dedication looks like!” Below his message was a long chain of praise and congratulations from my former colleagues. I stared at the screen, a bone-deep chill spreading through me. I had already quit. Valerie and I weren’t colleagues anymore. Why was I still being affected? A profound sense of hopelessness washed over me. Was there no escape? “Young people these days have no regard for their own lives!” the doctor grumbled as he reviewed my chart. “We had another young professional die of exhaustion last month. Just like you, she swore up and down she wasn’t staying up late.” My head snapped up. “She said she wasn’t?” “That’s right. Claimed her colleague was working 24/7 and transferring the fatigue to her,” the doctor scoffed. “Ever heard such a strange thing? Probably just pulling all-nighters playing video games and too embarrassed to admit it.” I grabbed his sleeve. “What was her name?” Her name was Laura. I found her address from her old company’s records and went to her home. Her mother answered the door. “Ma’am, I was a friend of Laura’s. I wanted to ask… how did she pass away?” The woman’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She ushered me inside. The first thing I saw was a photo of Laura on the mantelpiece. Her face was pale, the shadows under her eyes dark and bruised—she looked exactly like I did now. “My poor daughter. We never knew why she died,” her mother sobbed. “I was with her every night, we went to bed on time, but every morning she was more and more exhausted. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong.” My heart began to pound. “Did she ever mention a colleague named Valerie?” Laura’s mother shook her head, confused. “I don’t know. She just said someone at her company could work around the clock without sleeping. How is that possible…? This was the last photo taken of her. Here, look.” The moment I saw the picture, the hair on my arms stood on end. In the photo, Laura looked terribly ill, clearly forcing a smile. And in front of her, standing beside their boss with a champagne flute in her hand and a radiant smile on her face, was a familiar figure. It was Valerie. In that instant, my back went ramrod straight. I understood. I finally knew how Valerie was transferring her fatigue to me and to Laura. The truth was hidden right there. After I was discharged, I reapplied for my old job as if nothing had happened. When Diane saw my condition, she was horrified. “Hannah, are you sure you’re well enough to work? I can just mark you down for an extended leave.” I shook my head, my voice weak but firm. “No. I need to come back.” Diane looked like she wanted to argue but eventually relented. In the few days I’d been gone, the company had been turned upside down.

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The day the star salesman came to get his team-building expenses reimbursed, I rejected the claim without even looking up. “Can’t do it. The budget’s been used up.” He stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “It’s the first of the month! How can there be no money? We have a hundred-dollar budget per person!” But I held my ground. He finally lost his temper and stormed off to complain to the big boss. “Sir! You can’t let her get away with this! She’s intentionally trying to screw over my team!” “If she won’t approve the budget, how am I supposed to keep morale up?” “This isn’t just penny-pinching; she’s trying to tank the whole company!” Seeing that things had finally blown up, I rose with a calm smile and pulled the last six months of receipts from my desk drawer… 1 When Rick Harrison’s expense report landed on my desk, I didn’t even raise an eyebrow. My fingers danced across the keyboard, typing the last digit of a spreadsheet. Only after saving the file did I pick up the thin sheet of paper. His flamboyant signature sprawled across the bottom, and the amount in the box was a glaringly large number. “Can’t be approved.” I pushed the form back towards him, my voice flat and steady. “This month’s budget has already been exhausted.” The smug grin on Rick’s face froze, as if he hadn’t quite heard me. “What? Sarah, say that again.” I finally looked up, meeting his gaze directly. “I said, the administrative budget for this month… is gone.” “Impossible!” He slammed his palm down on my desk, drawing the eyes of the entire office. “It’s the first of the month!” “The company standard for team events is a hundred dollars a head per month. The sales department has over a hundred people. That’s a ten-thousand-dollar credit line, and you’re telling me it’s gone?” A younger salesman standing behind him immediately chimed in. “Yeah, Sarah. Our team just won a huge contract. What’s wrong with a celebratory dinner?” “You’re new here, maybe you don’t get how things work, but you can’t just shut us down like this.” “Seriously, she has no people skills.” “So petty.” “It’s not like we do this every month!” The murmurs from his team buzzed around me like a swarm of flies. I ignored them, my focus remaining locked on Rick. Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, his confusion morphed into fury. His face flushed a deep red as he pointed a finger at my nose. “Sarah, are you deliberately trying to make my life difficult?” “Don’t think for a second that sitting in that chair gives you power over the sales department! We’re the ones making money for this company, not taking crap from some bean-counter!” I leaned back in my chair, letting his spittle fly, my tone still infuriatingly calm. “Mr. Harrison, rules are rules.” “Your team’s overages from last month were automatically deducted from this month’s budget, as per financial policy.” “Therefore, as of midnight on the first, this month’s budget was already zeroed out.” My words echoed clearly into every corner of the office. An immediate, deathly silence fell, broken only by the hum of the central air conditioning. The expressions of my colleagues, who had been enjoying the show, shifted. There was pity, a little scorn, but mostly, the detached indifference of people who were glad it wasn’t them. They probably thought I was insane. A new accountant, daring to go head-to-head with the company’s golden boy, the untouchable top salesman. What could possibly cost that much? they were likely thinking. She probably just doesn’t want to release that much cash at the beginning of the month. Rick was speechless, choked by my logic. His chest heaved. He had likely never encountered a situation where his usual tactics hit a wall of solid steel. Finally, he squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth. “Fine, Sarah. You just wait.” 2 He snatched the expense report, crumpled it into a tight ball, and slammed it into the trash can by my desk before storming out and letting the door crash shut behind him. The sound was so loud it made the pen holder on my desk tremble. The tense air in the office finally loosened with his departure. Someone shot me a quick “good luck with that” look before rapidly ducking their head and pretending to be busy. Expressionless, I retrieved the wadded-up paper from the trash can, smoothed it out, and filed it away in a dedicated folder. They all thought this was the first time I had angered Rick, that I was just a naive greenhorn who didn’t know how to play the game. Only I knew this wasn’t the first time at all. Rick’s expense reports were a creative work of fiction, filed with a frequency that was simply breathtaking. Dinners and karaoke nights were standard, but he’d even had the audacity to submit receipts from high-end spas and massage parlors. Each time, he’d just toss the slips on my desk with a charming smile. “Sarah, it’s all for team morale. Just cover it for now, and I’ll get the paperwork pushed through right away.” His “pushing it through” meant never mentioning it again. When I first started, I hadn’t yet figured out the lay of the land and had fronted over two thousand dollars of my own money. That sum still sits on my personal ledger like an unclaimed bad debt. I had asked him about it twice. The first time, he laughed it off, saying he forgot and would handle it in a couple of days. The second time, he was holding court in the middle of the office, surrounded by his underlings, boasting about a million-dollar contract he’d just signed. I simply walked over and quietly reminded him about the reimbursement. In front of everyone, he slammed his coffee mug down on the table. The sound wasn’t deafening, but it was enough to silence the entire sales department. He looked at me as if I were an annoying child, his voice slow and dripping with undisguised contempt. “A couple grand? Is that why you keep hounding me? I close million-dollar deals. You think I’m going to stiff you for that?” A wave of suppressed snickers rippled through the department. Their stares felt like needles piercing my skin. From that day on, I never mentioned the money again. They all thought I’d backed down, that I was a coward who could be silenced by a single sharp word from the star salesman. Rick, in turn, became even more brazen, taking my compliance and personal expense for granted. I never said a word in my defense. I just kept collecting the evidence, piece by piece. I was waiting for him to roll his snowball of lies until it was so big he could no longer hide it himself. I was waiting for the day when all his bad debts would explode at once, nailing him—and his so-called “achievements”—to the company’s ledger for good, with no chance of recovery. I looked at the folder, at the carefully smoothed-out receipts that documented his greed, and a cold smile touched my lips. Patience, Rick. That day is coming very, very soon. 3 The next day, my desk became the epicenter of a storm. At 5:59 PM, Mike, Rick’s most trusted lieutenant, dropped a two-foot-high stack of documents on my desk with a loud thud. “Sarah, urgent. These fifty contracts have to be mailed out tonight. The clients are waiting.” I glanced at the wall clock. The minute hand ticked over to twelve. The office filled with the sounds of people packing up to leave for the day. Mike’s voice cut through the noise, dripping with unconcealed provocation. I said nothing. I just pulled the mountain of contracts towards me and began the tedious process of verifying addresses, checking signatures, and sealing each one in a courier envelope. The office emptied out. The lights went out one by one, leaving only the stark white glare of the lamp above my head. Outside, the city sank into darkness. My desk was the last remaining pinprick of light in the entire office building. By the time I dragged my exhausted body out of the building, it was nearly midnight. And that was only the beginning. When I went to the breakroom to get water, someone would always “accidentally” bump into me. Scalding hot water would splash onto the back of my hand or drench a stack of freshly printed documents. The apologies were always flimsy and insincere, accompanied by a few stifled giggles from the sidelines. I would just blot the soaked pages with paper towels, lay them out to dry on the radiator, and watch the ink bleed into illegible smudges. The breakroom became their stage. Rick and his cronies would make a point of gathering there whenever I was heating up my lunch. “Man, look at what some women wear to work. Looks like she got dressed in a barn…” “All she does is pinch pennies. No wonder she’ll be stuck as a junior clerk for life.” “I know, right? No awareness at all. Treats the company’s money like it’s her own household budget, counting every last cent.” “Someone like that will never get anywhere.” Their voices were pitched at the perfect volume for me, and everyone else within earshot, to hear everything. I’d just take my container from the microwave, turn, and walk away, their laughter growing louder and more unrestrained behind me. The rumors started to spread, silent and venomous. There were a few different versions, but they all boiled down to one thing: Me, Sarah, was holding a grudge because Rick had publicly put me in my place. I was abusing my position to block the entire sales department’s reimbursements in a petty act of revenge, threatening to derail the company’s bottom line. Colleagues who had been neutral, even friendly, began to look at me differently. They started deliberately avoiding me, ducking into another hallway if they saw me coming. They’d rather wait for the next elevator than share the small space with me. I was completely, utterly isolated. I had become the office pariah. A small-minded, vindictive woman with no “big-picture” thinking, who was letting a personal feud threaten the company’s very survival. Through it all, I continued to arrive on time, process the mountains of work on my desk, and ignore the deliberate obstructions and glares. My silence, in their eyes, was an admission of guilt, a stubborn refusal to see reason. Seeing that I still wouldn’t “admit my mistake,” Rick finally lost his patience. That afternoon, I watched him and several of his key salespeople walk into the office of our boss, Mr. Peterson. I knew he was about to play his trump card. 4 Half an hour later, the internal line rang. A cold, female voice came through the receiver. “Sarah, Mr. Peterson wants to see you in his office.” I put down my pen, smoothed my clothes, and walked over. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I stepped into a room thick with tension. Mr. Peterson sat behind his large desk, his brow furrowed. Rick stood beside him, a subtle, triumphant glint in his eyes. He even shot me a look of feigned sorrow and helplessness. The man could act. “Sarah,” Mr. Peterson’s voice was heavy, laced with clear annoyance. “What on earth has been going on with you lately?” I remained silent, waiting. “Rick has told me everything. You’re just approving an expense report. Do you really need to be this difficult?” “The sales team is in an uproar. Morale is at an all-time low.” “Several of my top performers have come to me saying they’re losing motivation, that they’re thinking of leaving!” Mr. Peterson’s fingers tapped a sharp rhythm on his desk. “Do you have any idea what it costs to train a core salesperson?” “They are the heart of this company! They’re the heroes who put food on all of our tables!” He paused, his tone growing sharper. “Rick and his team are out there fighting tooth and nail for deals, and they have to come back to the office and beg you for a little team-building money?” “What are you doing? You need to have more of a service mindset! Don’t be so rigid!” “The rules are just guidelines, Sarah. People are what matter! Do I really need to teach you that?” Every word was a judgment. I looked over at Rick. He could no longer hide his glee. The corner of his mouth curved into the smirk of a victor. His eyes were full of contempt and mockery, as if to say, See? You can’t win against me. So, this was it. The rot in this company went this deep. The “heroes” could ignore the rules. The “heart” could do whatever it wanted. He probably had no idea how much company money was being siphoned off, written off as the small cost of “maintaining morale.” My own heart turned to ice, but my expression remained unchanged. I lowered my gaze to my own clean fingernails and spoke calmly. “Okay, Mr. Peterson. I’ll be more careful.” No excuses. No arguments. Mr. Peterson seemed satisfied with my “cooperation.” His expression softened, and he waved a dismissive hand. “Alright, you can go. I know you’re very capable. Just work on communicating better with Mr. Harrison. I expect you two to cooperate from now on.” I nodded, turned, and pulled open the door. Outside, the entire sales department was “coincidentally” loitering nearby. The moment I stepped out, all eyes snapped to me, like a volley of poisoned arrows. Rick and his team followed me out, their faces beaming with undisguised, triumphant smiles. I knew that look. It was the look of the strong crushing the weak, the thrill of stepping on an ant that dared to challenge them. The very air in the office had changed, thick with suffocating ridicule. I could feel their stares on my back, peeling my skin, breaking my bones. I walked back to my cubicle, step by step, and sat down. It was terrifyingly quiet. Even the sound of keyboards had stopped. Everyone was watching a silent play, and I was the lone clown. I clenched my fists under the desk, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they stung.

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On the day we honored my father’s memory, my wife’s childhood sweetheart “accidentally” pushed my mother off a cliff. Her scream echoed before vanishing—no body was found. Grief-stricken, I reached for my phone, but Seraphina stopped me, gripping our son Leo by the throat. “Take the blame,” she hissed. “A few years in prison won’t kill you. But Adrian? He’s a lawyer—he can’t have a record.” She dangled Leo over the cliff, his small body bruised. “Choose: confess or I drop him.” I confessed. In prison, chains pierced my collarbones. Brine-soaked lashes split my skin nightly. Inmates used me. But thoughts of Leo kept me alive. When released, I found them—Seraphina and Adrian entwined on the couch, their newborn nearby. “You expected loyalty?” she sneered. “From a prison whore?” Leo recoiled from my touch. “I hate you! Only Uncle Adrian is my dad!” Their perfect family, built on my ruin, shattered me. Five years of hell—for this. Black hatred swallowed me whole. 1 My eyes burned, but not a single tear would fall. I suppose when you reach the absolute depths of despair, even crying becomes a luxury you can’t afford. But I couldn’t give up. I had to stay near my son. So I swallowed my pride, chewing on the jagged edges of my humiliation. “What do you want to do about… us?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Seraphina nonchalantly flicked a strand of hair from her face. “As long as you know your place, I don’t mind keeping a well-behaved dog around.” She paused, her gaze raking over my tattered clothes and scarred body. “Consider it compensation for the five years you lost. Don’t be ungrateful.” Her words were like needles, piercing straight through my heart. I lifted my head, my eyes finding my son. The moment our gazes met, he whipped his head away, as if the mere sight of me would contaminate him. A fine, sharp pain spread from my chest through my entire body. I couldn’t believe it. This was my sweet, obedient boy, now looking at me with nothing but resentment. To save him, I had been dragged to prison before I could even bury my own mother. How many times had I been beaten unconscious, only to be jolted back to life by the single, burning hope of seeing him again? And my sacrifice had only paved the way for someone else’s happiness. My lips twitched into a pained smile. I tried to sound dignified, but my voice trembled uncontrollably. “Seraphina… let’s get a divorce.” At that, she let out a short, sharp laugh. It was followed by the stinging crack of a slap across my face. I stood there, stunned, the imprint of her hand burning on my cheek. Her voice was laced with venom. “A worthless piece of trash like you wants to divorce me?” she spat. “You’re a freak nobody would even pay to fuck! You’d just come crawling back, begging me to take you in!” I stared at her, the woman I once loved, now a stranger spitting poison. My voice dropped to a plea. “Seraphina, I don’t want anything. Just… just give me back my son.” My words seemed to ignite something not in her, but in Leo. He scrambled backward, clinging to Adrian’s leg as if for dear life. “I hate you!” he shrieked. “I don’t want to go with you! I hate dirty things! I want to stay with Daddy Adrian forever!” The innocent words of a child, yet they sliced me to the bone. Adrian patted Leo’s back reassuringly, his other hand sliding possessively around Seraphina’s waist. He looked at me with the smug air of a victor. “Finn, my friend,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Forgive him. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled him a bit these last few years. Don’t take it to heart.” He adjusted his glasses. “While you were away, I took good care of Sera and Leo. You can rest easy.” I opened my mouth, but the words “thank you” felt like ash on my tongue. As if remembering something, Adrian pulled a check from his wallet and held it out to me. A check for five thousand dollars. “I hear it’s tough finding work after… you know. Think of this as a little something from me to you.” His fingers went limp, and the check fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf. His eyes gleamed with undisguised provocation. A vein throbbed in my temple. I exhaled slowly and bent down to pick it up. Before my fingers could touch the paper, a small shoe stomped down on my hand, grinding it into the floor. 2 “Don’t you dare touch my Daddy Adrian’s money!” “Get out of my house, you stinking beggar!” Leo’s face was red with fury as he stomped his foot again and again. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my hand, forcing a smile. “Leo, you’ve grown so much. Dad missed you.” Tears welled in my eyes, whether from longing or guilt, I couldn’t tell. “I know you’re angry I was gone for so long. That’s my fault.” This face, the one that had appeared in my dreams every single night, was finally right in front of me. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out, wanting to pull him into a hug. He scrambled away in terror. “The murderer is trying to grab me!” he screamed. “Dad, save me!” His high-pitched cries were like daggers, leaving me shredded and bleeding. My hand hung in the air, useless, as I watched my son flee into the arms of another man. Seraphina’s face darkened. She lunged forward and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You think a monster like you deserves to be Leo’s father?” she snarled. “You’re a filthy animal! You should have rotted in that cell!” I stumbled backward and fell, the impact jarring my bones. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of my mouth, dripping onto the plush carpet. I felt nothing. I mechanically picked up the check. Looking at the insultingly small sum, I let out a laugh that was closer to a sob. Five years of my freedom, a lifetime of my innocence, and this is all it was worth to them. I pushed myself to my feet and, right in front of them, tore the check into tiny pieces. “I don’t need your pity.” Seraphina’s expression turned thunderous. She snatched a heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. “You ungrateful bastard!” she screamed. “I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” The ashtray shattered against my temple. Warm blood instantly blurred my vision. Agony ripped through me, but I clamped my jaw shut, refusing to cry out. Leo clapped his hands, cheering. “Good job, Mommy! The bad man is bleeding!” Adrian watched the show for a long moment before stepping in, his concern as fake as his smile. “Sera, that’s enough,” he said softly, putting a hand on her arm. “Finn just got back. He doesn’t know the rules yet. Let him learn his lesson the hard way.” He glanced at Leo. “Besides, he is the boy’s biological father. This isn’t good for the child.” Seraphina, panting, gave me another two kicks for good measure before she relented. “If Adrian hadn’t spoken up for you, I wouldn’t have let you off so easily! Now get on your knees and thank him!” Adrian shook his head, pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and offering it to me. “Wipe the blood. You’re scaring the boy.” I swatted his hand away. He didn’t seem to mind. “Now that you’re back, we’re all one big family,” he said smoothly. “Let’s not have any bad blood between us.” He paused, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, a flicker of malice in his eyes. “We don’t have a spare room at the moment. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the doghouse for now.” The rage that had been simmering inside me boiled over. I clenched my fists. “Adrian, don’t push me too far!” I growled. “Or are you not afraid of me telling them what really happened that day…” “He has a place to sleep, and that’s more than he deserves!” Seraphina’s shriek cut me off. “One more word out of you and you can get out! You’ll never see your son again!” I looked at Leo, who was watching the scene with a disturbing excitement on his face. The fight drained out of me. I just nodded. Seraphina pinched her nose in disgust and threw a filthy blanket at me. “Go wash up! You stink. The smell is giving me a headache.” The blanket, matted with dog hair and mud, felt like a shroud of shame. Leo giggled and clapped. “The bad man has to use the same things as the doggy! Serves you right!” I limped towards the backyard, every step a fresh wave of pain. A sudden downpour began, the cold rain washing over me, mingling with my blood, but it couldn’t wash away the humiliation that clung to me like a second skin. I curled up in the damp, mildew-scented blanket, pulling it tight around me, trying to hold on to the last shred of my dignity. 3 The night grew cold. I was shivering uncontrollably in the dark. Suddenly, a blinding light hit my face, forcing my eyes open. Adrian stood over me, holding a flashlight. At his side, his Doberman snarled, baring its teeth. “Sorry, Finn,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “It seems Cerberus here wants his bed back.” He paused, his gaze flicking towards the open sewer grate nearby. He was waiting for me to break. My body trembled, but this time with rage. “Adrian, you’ve gone too far! Aren’t you afraid of retribution? Of a little thing called karma?” He let out a short, contemptuous laugh and squatted down, his voice a low, venomous whisper. “Retribution? I’m sleeping with your wife, I’ve claimed your son, and I control your family’s fortune. Does that sound like retribution to you?” He leaned closer. “Finn, a man this pathetic might as well be dead.” With a roar, I lunged, grabbing the front of his designer shirt. “You think I won’t tell everyone you’re the one who framed me?!” Adrian burst out laughing, easily shoving me off. “You really are an idiot!” he sneered. “There were no cameras on that mountain. Your mother’s body was never found. Who’s going to prove I did anything?” I stared at him, my throat tight, my eyes burning with helpless fury. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, his voice turning icy. “Besides, who in their right mind would believe a convicted murderer?” It was like being struck by lightning. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It was all a trap. A carefully constructed nightmare designed just for me. “You bastard!” I screamed, throwing myself at him again. He sidestepped, and I crashed to my knees on the concrete. The sharp pain was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. “Give me back my son!” I howled into the rain. Just then, a sharp voice cut through the storm. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Seraphina rushed over, shoved me aside, and shielded Adrian, her eyes wide with a concern that made my stomach churn. Behind her, Leo, like a furious little lion, charged at me and sank his teeth into my wrist. The pain was so sharp it made my scalp tingle. He pummeled my chest with his small fists. “You big bully! Don’t you hurt my daddy! I’ll kill you!” My whole body shaking, I tried to embrace him, but he picked up a rock and threw it, hitting me squarely on the forehead. Blood poured into my eyes, hot and sticky. I fought through the pain, my voice a strangled sob. “Leo… Dad didn’t kill anyone.” “Shut up!” Seraphina’s shriek pierced the night. She lunged and punched me hard across the face. “If you spout that nonsense again, I’ll rip your tongue out!” The blow sent me sprawling. My head cracked against the stone steps, and my vision swam with black spots. The cold rain mixed with my blood, seeping into my clothes, a bone-deep chill that had nothing to do with the weather. I lay helpless in a growing pool of my own blood, my gaze fixed on my son. “Leo…” I rasped. “Dad… is not a bad man.” His response was the cruelest blow of all. “Cerberus! Get him! Avenge my daddy!” His childish voice was filled with a terrifying glee that ripped my soul to shreds. The Doberman, with its gleaming white fangs, leaped. Its teeth sank into my calf, and a jolt of pure agony made my body convulse. Leo jumped up and down, pointing. “That’s what you get for bullying my dad! Bite him! Kill him!” The beast tore at my leg, its claws digging deep, bloody gouges into my arms as I curled into a ball, protecting my vital organs but offering no resistance. Blood snaked across the wet concrete. And in that moment, I finally understood. The sharpest blade in the world isn’t the torture of an enemy. It’s the hatred of a loved one, plunged directly into your heart.

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The moment I found out my brother was the tragic, manipulative ex in some real-life romance drama, he was in the bathroom trying to kill himself. I kicked the door open. “Get downstairs and buy me a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos,” I ordered. “And some Cool Ranch Doritos. And a Coke.” My brother, Leo, froze. “But—” “I’ll count to three!” He shot up from the water. “Okay, okay! The Cheetos—you want the regular kind or the lime-flavored ones?” Just then, a stream of text scrolled across my vision. [LMAO, I thought the tragic ex was supposed to be some dark, brooding, manipulative genius. Turns out he’s just terrified of his big sister!] [That’s the terrifying power of a big sister right there!] [Hahaha, this supposed supervillain knows his sister’s snack preferences by heart. He’s definitely done this run a thousand times!] 1 The bathroom door hung crookedly on its hinges from the force of my kick. My brother scrambled to hide the fruit knife behind his back. I shot him a withering look, pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my pocket, and slapped it into his hand. “Five bucks for your trouble. Not a penny more.” “Can’t you just order delivery?” he mumbled, his lower lip trembling. “Delivery is unhealthy!” He blinked, clearly bewildered by my logic, then grabbed a towel from the rack and headed out, muttering under his breath, “And I suppose spicy Cheetos are the pinnacle of nutrition.” After he left, I glanced at the fruit knife he’d hidden by the tub. It was clean. I flashed back to a few minutes ago, when I was lounging on the sofa, binge-watching a show. Suddenly, lines of text had materialized in front of my eyes. [Your sister’s just chilling here, completely clueless. You better get a move on, your brother is about to do something stupid again!] [She probably doesn’t even know. Her brother is the ‘tragic villain’ in a romance novel. He goes completely off the rails because he can’t accept that the female lead started dating the male lead as his replacement.] [But I heard the sister always resented her ungrateful little brother…] [Forget it, Kristen, you should just run. In a little while, your villainous brother is going to destroy himself, and he’s going to take you down with him!] I blinked. Excuse me? This sounded suspiciously like one of those trashy web novels I’d been seeing online. But wait. My brother was going to die soon, and I was going to die with him? No way. A fortune-teller once told me I was destined for a long and prosperous life. I exercise daily, drink milk tea from a thermos for my health, and even mutter a little eulogy for the souls of the rice grains I’m about to consume. How could I possibly end up with an early grave? Unacceptable. Leo returned with my Doritos, Cheetos, and a yogurt drink, placing them by my side. “They were out of Coke, so I got you a yogurt instead.” With that, he started tiptoeing back toward the bathroom. “Make dinner,” I said without looking up from my bag of chips. “I want orange chicken and sweet and sour ribs.” Leo’s shoulders slumped. He let out a long-suffering sigh and obediently shuffled toward the kitchen. 2 Half an hour later, the table was laden with all my favorite dishes. Leo watched me nervously. “Dinner’s ready.” “Coming,” I nodded, putting away my snacks. He seemed to be in a hurry, taking only a few bites before putting down his chopsticks. He sat across from me, lips pressed together, watching as I devoured a rib while my eyes were already locked on the orange chicken. A rule in our house since we were kids: the younger one can’t leave the table until the older one is finished. So, I ate. Slowly. My mind, however, was racing, trying to figure out how to stop my brother from framing the main characters of this story. The pop-up comments seemed confused by my behavior. [Kristen’s got a crazy appetite today. She’s eaten five whole dishes by herself!] [Yeah, didn’t she always complain that her brother’s cooking was disgusting? Why is she eating for so long this time?] [Is it just me, or is Kristen acting really weird…] I frowned, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Who said my brother’s cooking is disgusting? It’s delicious!” The moment I said it, I felt a burning gaze on me. When I looked up, he quickly averted his eyes. Leo pushed a plate of food closer to me, his voice a little hoarse. “I’m glad you like it.” I stared at his downcast eyes and the tips of his ears, which were flushed a bright red. A lump formed in my throat. I was always so busy with work. When was the last time I’d actually taken a good look at the little brother who’d been by my side through thick and thin? 3 I blinked away the sudden sting in my eyes and shoveled a few more bites of rice into my mouth. When I was finally done, Leo cleared the table with practiced efficiency. After everything was clean, he headed back to the bathroom. And locked the door. I walked over and knocked. “Leo, hey. Can you take Bear for a walk? It’s late and I’m a little scared to go out by myself. Hurry up.” Silence. I turned, walked to the balcony, and nudged the sleeping Samoyed with my foot. Leo had found him in a dumpster when he was twelve. He was too scared to bring him home, afraid I’d be angry, so he used his own lunch money to feed the little stray. He’d raised him from a tiny fluffball into the big, dopey creature he was today. Bear, rudely awakened, grumbled and let out a couple of grumpy barks. The bathroom door creaked open. Leo’s face was blank as he wordlessly began searching for the leash. “Bear, come!” The comments exploded. [What villain? This is clearly his sister’s most loyal golden retriever!] [Framing the male lead can wait. If big sister wants orange chicken, she gets orange chicken. Walking Bear is more important than framing the male lead…] [Wait a second… I’m getting the feeling Kristen is actively trying to stop him from framing the male lead.] [Agree. In the book, today was the day he was supposed to do it. If she can just get him past midnight, maybe the male lead will be safe?] Whether it was true or not, I had to try. 4 Outside, Leo walked Bear while I trailed behind, sipping on a freshly squeezed orange juice I’d just bought. The smell of barbecue from a nearby stall was too tempting to resist… By the time I’d bought my skewers, the dog was gone. And so was my brother. A jolt of panic shot through me. I imagined him holding up a bleeding wrist, crying to the female lead about what the hero had supposedly done to him. I was about to call him when a voice cut through the darkness. “Kristen.” A streetlight in the park had flickered out, and standing in the dim light was a boy and his dog. Leo held up his phone, its flashlight beam cutting through the gloom. “I’ve been waiting for you. Let’s go home.” A warmth spread through my chest, but on the surface, I just huffed. “What’s the rush? Can’t you walk any slower?” “Okay,” he said, shortening the leash, his tone cautious. “Sorry, Kristen. Bear was running too fast.” He slowed his pace. The beam of his phone, however, was now aimed entirely at my feet, silently lighting the path ahead. By the time we passed through the dark stretch of the park, I could tell his arm was stiff from holding the phone at that angle. He seemed terrified of me. Under the warm yellow streetlights, Leo held the leash in one hand and my half-finished orange juice and uneaten skewers in the other. I, on the other hand, walked with a serene expression, lightly tugging on his sleeve. For the next two hours, I dragged him around the park, loop after loop, until even Bear couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed on the path, playing dead. Only then did I finally relent. The second we got home, I pointed at Bear. “He stinks. Give him a bath.” 5 Leo’s dark eyes stared at me, unblinking. I, however, was yawning so hard my jaw ached. I flopped onto the sofa and pretended to pass out. Finally, he took a deep breath, put the leash back, and dragged Bear by his hind legs into the bathroom. Just as he finished washing and blow-drying the dog, I pointed to a grease stain on the carpet from my chips. “Leo,” I said, my voice full of righteous indignation, “that rug was expensive. It has to be hand-washed. Don’t you dare put it in the machine.” He just nodded. He deftly rolled up the dirty rug and replaced it with a clean one. A moment later, I heard the sound of him scrubbing in the bathroom. And so it went. Under my “supervision,” Leo mopped the floors, washed the windows, and took down the curtains to be laundered. Finally, when there was absolutely nothing left to do, he walked over to where I was dozing on the sofa. “Kristen,” he said softly. “I’m done.” It was an hour before midnight. I couldn’t let him sleep. With a jolt, I sat bolt upright. “I want some dragon fruit,” I said, my voice raspy. “It’s in the fridge!” A smile lit up his face, his eyes sparkling. “Wait right there, sis. I’ll get it for you.” Watching his retreating back, I frowned so hard I could have crushed a fly between my eyebrows. For some reason, I could have sworn I heard a note of pure, unadulterated joy in his voice. 6 He returned with a plate of perfectly cubed dragon fruit, looking refreshed and cheerful. I, on the other hand, felt like the one who’d just done a full day of chores. Seeing my silence, his smile faltered. He ducked his head, looking wounded. “Kristen, the dragon fruit is ready. I changed the sheets on your bed and lit the aromatherapy candle for you… If there’s nothing else, I’m going to go get ready for bed.” The comments started buzzing again. [Damn, it’s after eleven and this dude is still determined to frame the male lead!] [Well, his sister already treats him like dirt. Now she’s worked him like a slave all day. Of course he’s resentful.] [This is probably when he decides the female lead is his only salvation!] [Kristen, think of something, quick!] 7 “Pick out the seeds for me,” I blurted out. Leo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The… the seeds from the dragon fruit?” he asked in a small voice. I cleared my throat and, under his incredulous gaze, nodded. And so I watched him sit on a small stool, painstakingly picking out the tiny black seeds from each cube of fruit. His features were becoming more and more like our mother’s. Ten years ago, Mom died of cancer, and Dad remarried. People always say that a new mom means a new dad, and in our case, it was brutally true. Less than six months after Mom’s death, we were homeless. Lost in thought, I didn’t notice he was done until he pushed the plate in front of me. He was smiling, looking at me like a puppy waiting for praise. “All done, Kristen. Eat up!” I took a bite. “It’s so sweet!” After I’d eaten half the fruit, Leo again said he was going to bed. But then his phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Lana. [Why is the female lead calling him?] [I remember! In the book, after the villain cuts his wrist, he calls the FL and tearfully tells her he’s ‘setting her free’ to be with the ML. That’s what makes her think the ML hurt her precious ‘white moonlight’ and she starts to hate him!] [But he didn’t do it this time… so my baby Julian won’t be framed, right?!] Julian? So that was the male lead’s name? It sounded familiar… Leo stared at the screen for a long time. My own heart started to pound. But then he answered, and in front of me, he made a few minutes of idle, meaningless small talk. I watched the clock on the wall tick past midnight and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. After Leo hung up, his gaze on me darkened. “We’ll always be together, right?” The question came out of nowhere. I opened my mouth to answer, but he quickly looked away. “I’m… I’m going to bed, Kristen. Good night.” And he fled. I didn’t think much of it. I peeked through the crack in his door and saw the light go out. Silence. He must have been exhausted and fallen straight to sleep. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. I grabbed my comforter, made a makeshift bed on the floor outside his room, and lay down. This way, if he tried to leave, I’d wake up immediately. 8 In a state between waking and sleeping, my mind drifted back ten years. I had just been accepted into a top junior high school. I came home, acceptance letter in hand, only to find my mother’s cold body. And my brother, kneeling beside her, numb and silent. That very night, our father brought home a beautiful woman. She was his first love. They had been together since high school but had broken up over a misunderstanding. Now, they were back together. The woman—our new auntie—was incredibly kind to us. She cooked delicious meals, helped Leo with his homework, took him to amusement parks, and would gently apply medicine to his bruises after our father punished him for bad grades. She bought me pretty dresses. She would tell me, in the same soft voice as my mother, that I was the most beautiful girl in the world. The feeling was so familiar, so warm. We both grew to love her, though we were too shy to call her “Mom.” But in our hearts, she already was. Then, she brought home a little boy. He was about Leo’s age. Our father told us he was our real brother. I didn’t understand then. How could our auntie’s child be our real brother? But after the little boy arrived, she had no time for us anymore. Leo’s room became the new boy’s playroom. My academic awards were folded into paper airplanes and scattered everywhere. Leo spent his allowance on a dinosaur toy for the new boy, only to have it thrown in the trash. The little boy cried hysterically, screaming that he was hurt. Our auntie held him tight, her eyes glaring at me and Leo with disgust. “He doesn’t like these things. Stay away from him!” When our father came home, he didn’t even ask what happened. He just made us kneel all night as punishment. From that day on, I knew. We didn’t have a mother, and we didn’t have a father. We were crammed into the smallest room, eating their leftovers, cleaning the house and doing laundry like servants. On the little boy’s birthday, he was the center of the universe, dressed in a custom-tailored suit, surrounded by adoring relatives. The living room was overflowing with flowers, cakes, and piles of presents. Leo and I hid in a corner, watching from afar, completely out of place. 9 The next year, I became a boarding student. When I came home for winter break, I found Leo covered in bruises, kneeling on the floor and scrubbing, his body burning with fever. When he was done, he staggered to the kitchen to cook. I held his feverish body and begged our father to take him to the hospital. Our father, who was on the floor playing with the little boy, just snorted. “That little brat stole money from your aunt and broke my son’s new toy. He deserves it!” “No… it wasn’t me…” Leo sobbed, tugging at my sleeve. Our auntie, sitting nearby admiring her new manicure, shot me a look of pure loathing. “Your brother is a delinquent. If we don’t teach him a lesson now, he’ll grow up to be a menace to society!” That night, I took Leo to the hospital by myself. While we were gone, our auntie had someone throw all of our clothes and belongings out onto the street. Our father watched in cold silence, his approval implicit. I was twelve. Leo was eight. After that, I dropped out of school to support him. I collected cans, washed dishes, handed out flyers… whatever it took. Under my strict upbringing, Leo thrived. He was always at the top of his class, a ray of sunshine so handsome his classmates called him the “campus heartthrob.” He was obedient and responsible, handling all the cooking and cleaning without complaint. He never gave me a moment’s worry. He was such a good kid. How could he have become the “vicious villain” the pop-up comments described? And Julian… how could he be the hero everyone felt sorry for? 10 But I overestimated my ability to stay awake. When I opened my eyes, the sun was already high in the sky. The door to my brother’s room was open. The bed was empty. Where was he? Did he sneak out while I was asleep to cause trouble? A surge of anger propelled me to my feet. But when I checked the bathroom, it was spotless. My toothbrush had toothpaste already on it, the washing machine was churning with a load of clothes, and my white sneakers were soaking in a basin. This was a far cry from the scene I had imagined: my brother lying in the tub, blood streaming from his wrist, whispering with his dying breath: Julian… did this to me… “Kristen?” Leo’s clear voice came from behind me. I turned. He was holding a tray with breakfast and a glass of juice, looking completely normal. “Hurry up and wash your face. Lunch is ready.” I stared at him for a long moment. I numbly brushed my teeth and walked to the table. As I drank the freshly squeezed juice and watched my brother across from me, a wave of pure, unadulterated joy washed over me. It was past midnight. He really wasn’t going to do it. I had succeeded. My intense staring seemed to unnerve him. “…Kristen? Is the juice not right? I can make you a new one. What flavor do you want?” Just then, the doorbell rang. Leo didn’t seem surprised. He glanced at me, grabbed an extra set of utensils, and went to open the door. Standing outside, holding a bouquet of roses, was the female lead. The moment Lana saw my brother, her eyes lit up. “Leo! I’m here to pick you up!” Leo didn’t speak, but his ears turned bright red. What the hell? I thought. “I’m so sorry, Leo,” Lana said, turning to me. “I didn’t know Julian would say those things about you. Anyway, Kristen, Leo and I have plans to go to an auction today. Do you want to come with us?” She added, “I heard there’s a special mystery item. If you like it, just let me know. I’ll definitely bid on it for you.” Lana was like a little ball of sunshine. She wasn’t shy around me at all, even shoving the bouquet of roses into my arms. Leo seemed used to her chattering. He pushed a glass of juice toward her and said calmly, “My sister’s very busy. She doesn’t have time to go play with you.” [The drama is about to explode!] [It’s over! It’s over! Because the male lead called the villain ‘ill-mannered,’ the villain is going to auction off the female lead’s private photos and frame the ML for it!] [You bastard villain, I’m going to kill you!] [Kristen, say something!]

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