For six months, I was away on business. Six months, while my fiancé, Ethan, moved into our new home all by himself. He’d even send me a token $50 each month, a little joke he called “rent for my wifey.” It was all cute and games until his Instagram stories shifted from solo dinners to beautifully plated meals for two. A friend texted me, laughing, You better get back there before someone poaches him! I just laughed it off. But the comment stuck with me. So, I booked a flight, planning to surprise him for his birthday. But now, standing in front of our new apartment, the keypad code was stubbornly, repeatedly wrong. I was just about to call him when the door swung open. A young woman stood there, wearing an apron and holding a spatula. She frowned, looking me up and down, before a saccharine smile spread across her face. “Oh, honey, I think you have the wrong place. This is my home.” 1 I froze for a second, my apology automatic. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I must be on the wrong floor.” “No worries,” she chirped, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Just be more careful next time, sweetie. You wouldn’t want to walk into the wrong home again.” She called me “sweetie” one more time before shutting the door in my face. I looked up. The plaque on the door clearly read 1015. This was it. The spacious downtown apartment Ethan and I had bought together. We hadn’t even had a housewarming party before my work trip pulled me away for half a year. But I was the one who oversaw the entire renovation. I’d been here countless times. I knew I wasn’t mistaken. I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan, my voice sharp. “Ethan, did you change the code to the apartment? And why is there a woman living here?” His voice on the other end was choppy, full of static. Just then, the elevator dinged open, and there he was, juggling grocery bags. “Zoe, the signal’s terrible here. I’ll call you back later.” He hung up without a second thought, then looked up and saw me. Our eyes locked. “There you are, Ethan!” The door to our apartment opened again, and the young woman bounced out, her voice a playful whine. “You were taking forever! I heard the elevator and came right out to get the door. See how much I care about you?” I hadn’t eaten all day, rushing back here on an empty stomach. A bitter, acidic pain churned in my gut. “Ethan,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “you had better have a very good explanation.” 2 “Oh my gosh, Zoe! I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you earlier!” The woman, whose name I would learn was Amber, clasped her hands together in a theatrical plea for forgiveness. Ethan dumped the groceries in the kitchen and cleared his throat, his expression a mask of awkwardness. “Zoe, I didn’t know you were coming back early, I forgot to tell you. This is Amber, she’s an intern at my company. You know how it is, the internship is six months, and they’re on a shoestring salary. She’s from out of town, no place to stay. After paying for a room, she’d have no money left for food. I found her crashing at her desk a few times. I’m her supervisor, I felt sorry for her, so I decided to rent the spare room to her temporarily.” Amber, who had started setting up a hot pot on the dining table, stuck her tongue out playfully. “It’s true! Ethan’s been a lifesaver. If it weren’t for him, I’d be sleeping on the street. Please don’t be mad at him, Zoe. Look, to repay his kindness, I was just about to celebrate his birthday for you! But I’m totally useless in the kitchen, and I couldn’t let the birthday boy cook for himself, so I figured a hot pot would be a nice treat. You’re back just in time! You can join us.” Amber couldn’t have been long out of college, radiating a bubbly, almost naive energy. But I heard the boast in her words loud and clear. She couldn’t cook, which meant Ethan had been cooking for her. She was celebrating Ethan’s birthday for me. Was she trying to audition for the role of my replacement? Ethan and I met in college. He pursued me for three years before I finally said yes. We’d done everything by the book: dating, the proposal, even setting the wedding date. Our parents had helped us buy this very apartment. And now, he was pulling this stunt? 3 “Oh, Zoe, we only have guest plates and chopsticks. You don’t mind, do you?” Amber arranged a set of matching, ‘his and hers’ bowls for herself and Ethan, then shot me a bright smile before waltzing into the kitchen to help him wash vegetables. Their laughter and playful banter drifted out, painting a perfect picture of a happy young couple. And there I was, a stranger in my own home, perched awkwardly at the edge of my own dining table. The sight of the bubbling pot made my stomach churn. I had no appetite. “Ethan, you said you’re renting to her,” I said, my voice cutting through the cozy kitchen scene. “Where’s the lease agreement?” Ethan’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Zoe, it was just a formality to help her out. We didn’t need to sign a contract.” “Right,” I scoffed. “And the rent?” “Amber transferred it to me. I can send it to you if you want. But honestly, she’s been looking after the place while you were gone. If anything, we should be paying her a maintenance fee.” I almost laughed out loud at his audacity. Amber chimed in, twisting a strand of her hair. “So, should I start sending the rent to you now, Zoe? Ethan was so considerate, he knew I was broke, so he only charged me $50 a month. I haven’t even paid this month’s yet. Here, you can add me on Venmo, I’ll send it to you right now.” She held her phone out, her bright eyes fixed on mine, glittering with an unmistakable challenge. “$50?” I stood up, my gaze locking onto Ethan’s suddenly evasive face. The anger I’d been suppressing boiled over. “This is a 1,800-square-foot luxury apartment in the heart of downtown, a few minutes’ walk from your office. A place like this rents for at least five grand a month, and you’re letting her stay for fifty bucks? Ethan, are you renting out a room, or are you renting her?” He flushed, a mix of shame and anger. “Zoe! It’s my birthday! Did you come back to celebrate with me or to start a fight? There is nothing going on between Amber and me. She’s my subordinate. What’s wrong with helping her out? Why are you so jealous? A dirty mind sees dirt everywhere.” 4 Being attacked like that was the last straw. “This isn’t just any apartment, Ethan!” I shot back, my voice shaking with rage. “This is our marital home! We’re not even married yet, and you’re already renting it out. What, are you having second thoughts about the wedding?” His face went pale, and his tone softened. “No, of course not, Zoe. It’s not a big deal. I’ll ask Amber to move out before the wedding.” Meow. A soft sound made me look down. A small tabby cat was rubbing against Amber’s slender legs. She scooped it up, cooing, “Oh, my sweet baby.” Then she turned to Ethan, her eyes welling up with tears. “Ethan… we found this little guy on the street together. He finally has a home. We’re both so used to it here. After you get married… does that mean we’ll be homeless again?” The two of them, the girl and the cat, looked like a portrait of pitiful abandonment. Ethan’s jaw tightened. He looked at me, his voice strained. “Zoe, it feels cruel to just kick them out like this. Maybe… maybe we could postpone the wedding for a little while? Just until Amber finishes her internship and saves up enough to find a place nearby?” It felt like I’d been hit over the head. The man standing in front of me was a complete stranger. For an intern and a stray cat, he was willing to rent out our home for pennies. And now he wanted to postpone our wedding? It all clicked. Three months ago, I’d called him late one night, around 9 PM, just missing him after a long day at work. I could hear the sound of a running shower, and he told me he was in the middle of one. But over the water, I’d heard a distinct meow. I asked him when he got a cat. Back when we were together, I had wanted a dog, but he claimed he was allergic to pet dander, so I’d dropped it. He’d insisted I was hearing things and rushed off the phone. The pieces clicked into place with a sickening dread. The cat was already here three months ago. Which meant she was already here three months ago. He wasn’t allergic to pet dander. He was just allergic to me getting a dog. A wave of nausea washed over me. The very sight of him made me sick. 5 “Ethan, you want to postpone our wedding… for an intern and a cat?” I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts. “Fine. You want to postpone? You can call my parents and your parents right now and explain why. If you have the guts to tell them the real reason, I’ll do more than postpone. We can call the whole thing off.” Ethan’s face was a mess of conflict. He didn’t dare take the phone. He’d spoken impulsively, moved by Amber’s crocodile tears, but he knew he couldn’t actually go through with it. Forget my parents; his own would skin him alive. “Oh, no… it’s all my fault,” Amber sobbed, seeing Ethan’s resolve crumble. “It’s me and the cat. We’re causing all this trouble for you. We’ll leave right now.” She dramatically scooped up the cat and made for the door. “Wait, Amber!” Ethan rushed after her, grabbing her from behind. “You don’t know anyone in this city! Where would you even go?” “But… but I don’t want you to fight with Zoe because of me,” she whimpered into his chest. “Amber, you’re just too sweet, too considerate. That’s why people take advantage of you,” he said, stroking her hair. He then turned to me, his voice firm. “Zoe, let’s both take a step back. What if we just rent another apartment nearby to use as our marital home?” I snatched my water glass off the table and hurled its contents at the two of them. “Ah! Zoe, you’ve gone too far!” Ethan shielded Amber from the water, glaring at me as if I were the one trying to tear them apart. “Are you insane, Ethan?” I screamed. “We bought this apartment! Who in their right mind buys a home and then goes and rents a different one to get married in? Did you leave your brain at the office? If you’re so desperate to live with your little intern, then you can go rent her a damn apartment yourself! Stop freeloading in my house, you shameless piece of trash!” I guess he thought my claws had been permanently retracted. He was wrong. “What are you talking about, living together? We’re not!” he stammered, still trying to deny it. Amber, her damsel-in-distress act vanishing, glared at me. “You know, Zoe, I shouldn’t say this, but you and Ethan aren’t actually married yet. His family bought him this apartment as a wedding gift. He has every right to do what he wants with it. If you keep acting like a shrew, you might just find yourself without a fiancé or a place to live.” Her defiant words struck me like lightning. It all made sense now. A glance at Ethan’s guilty face made me laugh, a cold, sharp sound. “Wait a second. You seem to have one very important detail wrong. Who ever told you his family bought this place…”

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Working the early shift today. While waiting for passengers to board, I was scrolling through my phone and came across a post: [Question: 8 months pregnant, but the baby most likely has health issues. How can I maximize my profit from this situation?] I frowned. If the baby isn’t healthy, don’t have it. Maximizing profit? Is this person insane? But the top comment, with dozens of likes, was even more chilling: [Buy a plane ticket. Take labor-inducing drugs right before you board. Make sure you go into labor on the plane.] [Flight attendants aren’t doctors. Just blame the baby’s condition on whoever helps you.] [Kick up a fuss, get public opinion on your side, and you’ll get a huge payout. If you’re lucky, you could even use the media attention and your disabled child to become an internet celebrity!] What the hell? Do our lives as flight attendants not matter? Just as I was about to report the post, a message came through on our crew group chat: “Attention crew: a passenger on this flight is 6 months pregnant. Please take note.” 1 I’d just replied “Roger that” when the chief purser announced that boarding was beginning. I quickly put my phone away and composed myself. Soon, a pregnant woman, holding the small of her back, walked towards me. Her information had been in the group chat. The disturbing post was still echoing in my mind, but professional habit took over, and I greeted her with a warm smile. “Hello, you must be Ms. Miller, correct? Your seat is right here. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call us.” After getting her settled, I breathed a sigh of relief. She seemed pleasant enough, and her belly wasn’t that big. I silently chided myself for reading such dark things online. Pregnant passengers were common, and all I needed to do was follow standard procedure. The other passengers began to board in a steady stream. Just as the cabin was nearly full, Ms. Miller suddenly reached out and stopped me. “Excuse me, this seat is a little too small. Can you do something about it?” I paused for a second. “I’m sorry, Ms. Miller, but today’s flight is fully booked. There are no extra seats available.” “And you’re in the first row of economy, which is the most spacious seating in this section.” Ms. Miller nodded. “Oh, so it’s the most spacious in economy.” “Yes, ma’am. Our ground staff specifically arranged this seat for you.” After my polite reply, I prepared to continue with pre-flight checks. But Ms. Miller grabbed my sleeve again. “Then why couldn’t you put me in business class? Isn’t that more spacious?” My stomach dropped. Was she looking for trouble? I kept the smile plastered on my face. “Ms. Miller, business class is a separate ticket purchase. And as I mentioned, today’s flight is completely full, so there are no empty seats in business class either.” She finally nodded again. “Oh, so no empty seats at all.” “That’s right, ma’am.” Just as I finished speaking, a passenger called for assistance, so I turned and headed towards the back of the cabin. This time, she didn’t try to stop me. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. A passenger who could communicate was a good passenger. But just as all the passengers were seated and we were starting to check the overhead bins, I was cornered at the lavatory door. Ms. Miller’s gentle expression was gone, replaced by a furious glare. “You lied!” I was taken aback. “Ms. Miller, is there something you need?” “I just went and looked. Business class isn’t full at all! Why won’t you let me sit there?” I instinctively glanced towards business class, my mind racing as I mentally tallied the passengers. “Ms. Miller, there is a mother in business class who purchased two seats. Her baby is only four months old, so she’s holding him. The empty seat you see belongs to the baby.” My explanation did nothing to pacify her. She just snorted. “Why does her baby get to sit in business class? I have a baby in my belly, too! Why won’t you move me? Her one baby is taking up a whole seat, and I’m two people! Why can’t we have a seat?” 2 I patiently explained, “Because she purchased business class tickets. The right to use that seat for this flight belongs to her and her son.” “So, she paid for it. I paid for my ticket too, so why can’t I?” “I’m sorry, Ms. Miller, but the price for economy and business class is different.” “I paid my money! I want to sit in business class!” I forced the smile to stay on my face. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but to sit in business class, you would need to pay the fare difference of three hundred dollars.” As soon as I said that, she spun around and stormed off. I sighed internally. Finally, she was gone. I hoped that would be the end of it. But of course, my fears were realized. I had just finished checking one section of overhead bins when I heard a baby wailing from business class. A passenger holding an infant rushed out. “What is wrong with you people? How can you just give away a seat that I paid for?!” “I paid for it first! She says she paid the difference, so she gets to sit there? How can you sell the same seat twice? Are you that desperate for money?” Her outburst drew the attention of the surrounding passengers. Whispers rippled through the cabin. “Seriously? They sold the same seat twice?” “It’s probably the baby’s seat. They figured the infant wasn’t using it, so they could sell it again.” “That’s just awful!” I frowned. Remembering Ms. Miller’s behavior, a sense of dread washed over me. I rushed towards business class. Sure enough, Ms. Miller was already settled in the business class seat. She had even changed into a pair of slippers. Seeing the angry faces of the other business class passengers, I immediately approached her. “Ms. Miller, I’ve already explained to you, this seat belongs to the little boy next to you. We don’t have any available seats in business class.” “I have a little one in my belly, too,” she retorted. “I’ll be gracious and let her little one share the seat with mine.” “Besides, you just said I could pay the difference.” I was stunned. “Ms. Miller, I said you could pay the difference to upgrade, but I also explained that today’s flight is full, so there are no seats available in business class to upgrade to.” “Furthermore, we cannot process upgrades once the cabin is fully boarded.” Ms. Miller simply ignored me, muttering, “I see an empty seat right here. I’m already being very generous by letting that baby sit with me. Don’t push your luck!” Her complete reversal of the situation left me speechless. How did she manage to reply to every sentence without actually addressing anything I said? Did the pregnancy hormones go to her brain? Just as I was about to call for a security officer, Ms. Miller suddenly clutched her stomach. 3 I froze, my eyes instinctively darting to her belly. The post I had read this morning flooded my mind. A sense of alarm shot through me. “Ms. Miller, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Without a word, she shot up from her seat and bolted towards the lavatory. I immediately followed, my heart pounding as I stood outside the door. “Ma’am, are you feeling alright? If you’re not well, we haven’t taken off yet. We can call for the ground medical team.” I strained my ears, trying to hear what was happening inside. I could faintly make out the sound of a suppressed moan. The words from this morning’s post screamed in my head. It can’t be. She’s only six months pregnant, right? I can’t be this unlucky. As I was debating what to do, the lavatory door swung open. Ms. Miller’s face appeared before me. Startled by the sudden movement, I froze for a second before asking, “Should I call the ground medical team for you? We haven’t closed the cabin door yet, we can still get you emergency assistance.” But Ms. Miller’s face was a mask of fury. “Emergency assistance? Are you sick? Are you trying to jinx my baby? It was just morning sickness! What’s all the fuss about?” “But…” “But nothing! I’m tired. Get me a blanket. I need to rest.” “Of course, ma’am.” Watching her walk back to her seat in the first row of economy, a deep sense of unease washed over me. One minute she was demanding a business class seat, and the next, everything was fine? People don’t change that quickly. But her belly… it really didn’t look that big. Not like someone who was over eight months pregnant. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Just as I was grabbing a blanket to take to her, a colleague next to me let out a soft gasp. I instinctively turned to look. She rushed out of the lavatory, her face pale. “Blood! Why is there blood in the lavatory?” My blood ran cold. I ran inside. Sure enough, there was a ring of blood on the floor next to the toilet. My mind raced, replaying who had used the lavatory recently. Three men and Vivian Miller. That ruled out a period. Could it be… As I cleaned the floor, I pulled out my phone and opened the post from this morning. As soon as I saw it, my face fell. The post had been updated. [What do I do? The plane hasn’t even taken off yet, and I don’t think I can hold it in anymore! I’m already bleeding a little!] [If I go into labor now, won’t the flight attendants just call a doctor? Then they’ll find out what’s wrong with my baby!] A new comment had appeared right below it: [Has the cabin door closed yet? If it has, you’re fine. It takes them time to reopen it, so a doctor won’t be able to get on board in time!] [I suggest you wait until the door is closed, then start pushing. The plane will still be on the ground. That way, by the time the flight attendant delivers the baby, the paramedics will have arrived, and you’ll get immediate medical care.] [You get to pass the blame and get medical help! It’s a win-win!] With every sentence I read, my expression grew darker. The comment had been posted just three minutes ago. Was this really just a coincidence? Just then, I spotted a folded piece of paper in the corner. I picked it up instinctively. When I unfolded it and saw what it was, my mind went blank. 4 It was a prenatal check-up report, but the date was from two months ago. It looked like it had been left in a pocket and gone through the wash, so the ink was faded and blurry. But I could clearly make out the name: Vivian Miller. Two months ago, she was 24 weeks pregnant. That meant she was now over 32 weeks pregnant. It matched. It matched the post. So now I could be certain: Vivian Miller had lied about how far along she was. Domestic airlines don’t have strict restrictions on pregnant passengers, so her lying about her due date was highly suspicious. Eight months. A baby with health problems. Stomach pain. Bleeding… The keywords swirled in my head. I took a deep breath to calm myself and typed a reply to the post on my phone: [As a mother, aren’t you heartbroken that your child isn’t healthy? How can you be thinking about profiting from your child’s suffering?] [And the flight attendants are trying to help you, yet you want to harm them? That’s repaying kindness with evil!] After sending the comment, I heard the announcement to prepare for cabin door closure in my earpiece. Damn it, I thought, and sprinted towards the door. If the door closed, it would be just like the post said. Reopening it would take time, and we would be forced to deliver the baby ourselves. I reached the cabin door just as my colleague was securing the safety latch. I grabbed her arm. “Wait! Just a little longer!” She looked at me, confused. “Wait for what? It’s time!” Although I was almost certain Vivian Miller was the one who wrote the post, a small part of me held onto a sliver of hope. What if it wasn’t her? As I was trying to stall for time, my phone buzzed. The post had been updated again: [Of course you can say that, you’re not in my shoes! I don’t even know who the father of this baby is! Are you going to raise it for me?!] [I was originally planning on selling it. I even had a buyer lined up. Then the check-up revealed the problems. What rotten luck! I had to return the deposit!] [This baby owes me that money!] [And I can’t stand flight attendants anyway. They act so high and mighty, but they’re just glorified waitresses. What makes them any different from the rest of us working-class stiffs?] [Isn’t there a popular saying online? ‘I am myself first, and then a mother.’ Since this baby isn’t going to live, it might as well become fertilizer for my life!] A surge of raw fury erupted within me. Not everyone deserves to be a mother. Now I was sure. This person was Vivian Miller. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Then I contacted the captain directly. “We have a passenger going into labor. Please contact the control tower immediately!” My colleagues all stared at me, bewildered. “The only pregnant passenger we have is six months along. How could she be going into labor?” I was about to pull out the crumpled prenatal report from my pocket when a panicked voice came through my earpiece. “The head! The baby’s head is coming out!”

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It was a torrential downpour. I was stuck in traffic, blocked by a rear-end collision up ahead. Just as I was about to make a U-turn and get out of there, I saw my husband, Phillip, step out of the front car. He held an umbrella over a woman, pulling her into his arms and comforting her in a soft, gentle voice. “I’m here. Don’t worry.” My breath caught in my throat. I remembered Phillip’s apology to me just this afternoon. “My darling wife, something urgent came up at the office. I really can’t make it back.” He had been so full of guilt, promising me, “From now on, I will be with you for every single anniversary. I swear it!” The man who was swearing his undying loyalty this afternoon was now holding another woman, arguing with the driver of the other car. “You need to apologize to my wife, right now!” My hands trembled on the steering wheel as I picked up my phone and dialed Phillip’s number. 1 I watched as Phillip pulled out his phone. The moment he saw my name on the screen, his expression shifted. The woman he was holding glanced at the phone, saw my contact name, and her eyes instantly reddened. She clutched the lapel of his coat. “Phillip,” she whimpered, “you promised you’d be with me today.” Her ankle was swollen. “My foot hurts so much.” And then, I watched as Phillip hesitated for a few seconds before declining my call. A moment later, a text message appeared on my screen. [Honey, I’m still swamped.] [I’ll call you back as soon as I’m done, okay?] I could see him staring at his phone, the pale white light reflecting off his anxious face. When I didn’t reply, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and held the woman even tighter. Today was our seventh wedding anniversary. The restaurant we had booked called to check in. “Ms. Erwin?” “The cake your husband ordered for you has arrived. Shall we put it in the refrigerator for you?” The bakery that makes my favorite cake is all the way across town and notoriously hard to book, but every year, Phillip would place the order two months in advance. Halfway through our candlelit dinner, he’d bring it out and we’d make a promise for the year to come. “Yes, please,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm. I watched as the tow truck hauled away the damaged cars. Phillip had settled things with the other driver, and the gridlocked traffic was finally starting to move. As I drove past him, I saw Phillip glance at his phone again, then put it away and look up. Our eyes met. In that instant, I saw his expression freeze. A second later, my phone rang again. It was Phillip. I didn’t answer immediately. Just as he had let me wait, I let him wait, too. I let it ring and ring. When he called for the fifth time, I finally pressed the answer button. “Honey,” he said, a barely concealed panic in his voice. “Are you at the restaurant yet?” He was testing me. “The restaurant just called to say the cake arrived,” he continued, his tone laced with a practiced cheerfulness. “I really, really wanted to be there with you. If it wasn’t for this project, I would have dropped everything to be by your side. You have to forgive me.” Listening to his voice, a dense, sharp pain spread through my chest. Still, I said, “Okay.” Phillip asked where I was. For a moment, I considered getting out of the car and confronting him right there. But I pushed the impulse down. “I’m right at the entrance,” I told him. He let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve asked Mia to join me,” I said, “so I have to go.” Later, sitting across from me, my best friend Mia sighed wistfully. “Your Phillip really is a romantic. The flowers, the gifts, the cake—always right on time, every year.” “I used to hate that son of a bitch,” she said, taking a bite of her food. “But you have to admit, the bastard really pulled through and made something of himself.” Mia had never approved of Phillip. In her eyes, he had married up. But love isn’t about status. Now, watching even Mia sing his praises, I found it all so absurd. So absurd, in fact, that I actually laughed out loud. “Oh, the bastard pulled something, all right,” I told her. “Phillip is cheating on me.” 2 The fork and knife clattered to the floor. Mia’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide with disbelief. I repeated myself, my voice flat. “Phillip. Is cheating. On me.” I pulled out the video I’d recorded and placed my phone in front of her. “So,” I said, “I’m probably getting a divorce.” It finally dawned on her that I wasn’t joking. She slammed her fist on the table, her face contorted with rage. “Where is that bastard right now? Take me to him! I’m going to kill him!” The truth is, the moment I saw Phillip shielding that woman, a part of me wanted to storm out of the car and demand an explanation. But I never fight a battle I haven’t prepared for. I wouldn’t let myself be the one at a disadvantage. What if he’d already slept with her? If I stormed out then and there, all I would accomplish is becoming a spectacle for sympathetic onlookers before completely blowing things up with Phillip, leaving the third party to reap all the rewards. I refused. Even in a moment like this, I was weighing the pros and cons. “I need to find out who that woman is,” I told Mia. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, or even as young as me. In fact, she looked more like Phillip’s older sister. And yet, for this utterly unremarkable person, I had seen raw pain and deep affection in Phillip’s eyes. “I’ve already got someone looking into it,” I said calmly. “I’m sure the truth will come out very soon.” Phillip came home just before dawn. He leaned in to kiss my lips, his hand sliding up my waist, trying to slip off my nightgown. I grabbed his wrist, my eyes snapping open to meet his, which were clouded with desire. I wanted to ask him, Didn’t she satisfy you? But I swallowed the sarcastic words and the nausea rising in my throat. I just frowned. “I don’t feel well.” Instantly, his expression shifted to one of deep concern. The moment his forehead touched mine, I was hit by a wave of perfume that wasn’t his. The cloying scent was so overpowering that I couldn’t control it anymore. I shoved him away, scrambled out of bed, and ran to the bathroom, collapsing over the toilet and retching until the world spun. “What’s wrong?” Phillip’s frantic voice came from behind me. “You were fine yesterday! How did you get so sick all of a sudden?” He placed his hands on my shoulders, and the touch sent another wave of revulsion through me. I heaved again, my eyes stinging. When the sickness finally subsided, I told him, my voice raw, to get away from me. Tears streamed down my face, hot and involuntary. My throat felt like it had been scraped with razor blades, making it painful to even speak. “Phillip, I just want to sleep.” I ignored the flash of hurt in his eyes as he stood there, helpless. A part of me desperately wanted to lay it all out, to ask him what game he was playing, who this performance was for. But I couldn’t. A cold, rational voice in my head reminded me that Phillip and I were too deeply entangled, our lives and finances woven together over the years. I had to be fully prepared. “I’d like some congee,” I told him. My stomach has always been weak. To take care of me, Phillip had learned to cook, specifically my favorite Cantonese dishes, and he’d perfected the art of making congee. “As long as I’m around,” he used to say, “I’ll never let you end up in the hospital with gastritis again.” Back then, those words were the sweetest promises. Now, they were knives, twisting in my heart, leaving me a bloody, mangled mess. I thought I was giving him an out, a simple task to perform. But he was stubborn. “We’re going to the hospital first,” he insisted. “If you’re okay, I’ll come back and make you congee.” He brought me my coat. “But I have to know that you’re really okay.” 3 I went with him. Sitting in the passenger seat, I noticed a tube of lipstick that wasn’t there before. Before I could say a word, Phillip snatched it and tossed it out the window. “A colleague came back with me, and I gave her a ride home,” he explained, looking at me. “I couldn’t say no. Honey, I promise, it won’t happen again.” The shade of lipstick was the same one the woman in the rain had been wearing. I nodded, not bothering to reply, and simply leaned back against the seat, feigning sleep. It wasn’t a long drive to the hospital, but Phillip’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing. He kept declining the call, but the person on the other end was persistent. The incessant buzzing was giving me a headache. As he was about to decline it again, I opened my eyes. “You should probably get that,” I said. I saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “What if it’s something important?” He was out of excuses. He answered the call, his voice unnecessarily loud. “I’m with my wife.” He was posturing. “This had better be an emergency, or I swear, you’ll regret it.” There was a long silence on the other end, then the sound of someone crying. I saw Phillip’s expression change subtly. Before I could get a better look, he slammed on the brakes. My head whipped back, hitting the headrest hard. The world spun, and I nearly threw up again. “Honey, are you alright?” he asked. We had arrived at the hospital entrance. He unbuckled my seatbelt. “Let me get you inside first.” His mind was clearly elsewhere. I didn’t bother asking any more questions. When my number was finally called, I was about to follow Phillip to the examination room when I saw her. The woman from the rainy night was standing in the hallway, her eyes red, clutching her stomach and calling Phillip’s name. Phillip froze completely. The sharp pain I’d felt before was gone. Seeing her show up here, I feigned confusion and asked Phillip, “Do you know her?” The woman stared at Phillip with a defiant look. His hand, which had been holding mine, fell away. He offered a clumsy, transparent explanation. “Honey, she’s a client from the project I’m working on. She’s not from around here.” I hadn’t asked who she was. But he kept talking. “She doesn’t know anyone. I’ll just help her with a quick check-up and be right back.” He pressed the examination form into my hand. “Call me if you need anything.” The woman’s tears turned into a triumphant smile. She called out to me, “Hello, sister-in-law.” I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Phillip. I threw down one last challenge. “You dare walk away and see what happens.” “Phillip,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “If I tell you not to go today, will you still go? Even if I get angry? Even if I throw a fit?” We had made a promise to each other. If one of us was sick, that person came first. Nothing, no matter how big, was more important than the other’s health. I wanted to know, right then and there, how much I still weighed in his heart. I saw him struggle. Then, his eyes pleaded with me. “Honey, don’t make this hard for me.” The heart that had been suspended in mid-air finally plummeted, shattering into a million pieces on the floor. I saw the woman shoot me a look of pure provocation. I had lost. Utterly and completely. “Go, then,” I said, no longer trying to hold him back. I just watched as he walked away, glancing back every few steps to tell me, “Call me if you need anything.” She had won, completely and utterly, just by standing there. I felt pathetic and ridiculous. Sitting in the doctor’s office, looking at the ultrasound of a child who had arrived at the worst possible time, my eyes began to burn. The heat was so intense I almost cried out. The doctor advised me to keep the baby, explaining that my uterine wall was thin. If I went through with this, I might never be able to be a mother again. I stared at the black-and-white image, my heart still aching. A part of me wondered if I should forgive him, if I should give this child a family. But then I picked up my phone and saw a new message from Phillip.

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I signed up for a companion app, hoping it would pair me with a special new friend. Instead, the first word she called me was “Mom.” But I’m only five. That’s okay, though. I can be a good mom. I downloaded a new smart app today. It said you could create your very own AI persona. Sounded cool. My little hands tapped away at the screen until a prompt popped up. [Create a Private Companion or a Public Profile?] What did that mean? I had no idea. Might as well go public. I waited patiently, my heart buzzing with excitement, hoping the app would give me a really special friend. Yesterday, my friend Daisy was bragging about her new pen pal from another country. Hmph. I could be way cooler than her. But when the screen lit up with the word “Mom,” I just stared, my eyes wide. I’m only five. Still, it was okay. I’m always the mom when we play house. I could be a good mom. This must be a girl who had just become an adult. She told me it was her eighteenth birthday and she was hoping for a “Happy Birthday” from her mom. “Happy birthday, my sweet daughter.” Voice-to-text. Sent. But birthdays need presents! I remembered the fancy coming-of-age parties I’d seen, and I knew I didn’t have time to prepare anything like that. So I asked her, “What do you want for a present? I can get you anything.” She hesitated for a long time before typing back timidly, “Well… could you maybe send me a pack of pads?” Oh! It was that special time for girls. I knew about that. My mom has it too, and you have to be extra gentle and take good care of yourself. I got her address and scrambled downstairs. “Maria! Maria, can you call a courier for me?” After shouting, I darted into my mom’s room and rummaged through her stash of sanitary pads. They were all in colorful packages, so I just grabbed two of each kind. Then I ran to the kitchen, yanked open a drawer, and took out some ginger-and-honey tea bags. They always make a tummy feel better. Maria, our housekeeper, watched me scurrying around, a warm smile on her face. “Lily, sweetie, what are you doing with all that?” “It’s for my daughter!” I announced happily. “It’s her birthday today!” As the words left my mouth, I remembered something crucial. Birthday cake! And KFC! KFC is my absolute favorite, but Mom and Dad always say it’s junk food, so I only get it on my birthday. That meant she had to have it too. I immediately had Maria call and place an order. She looked completely baffled, but she did it anyway. I ordered a bunch of Family Buckets and sent another message. “You can share this with your friends. Happy birthday!” Once the order was complete, I asked the courier through the app, “How is she doing?” He replied that she lived in a really rough part of town, in a tenement building, and that she looked deathly pale. I felt a pang of sympathy for her, but also a swell of joy. I had a daughter! Not a doll from a game of house, but a real, live daughter. I immediately went online and searched “how to raise a daughter.” I found out that at eighteen, she should be in college. I also saw a forum post that read: [$500 a month isn’t enough to live on.] So I sent her a transfer for $1,500. She was floored. “Why are you sending me money?” “Moms are supposed to give their daughters an allowance,” I typed back matter-of-factly. The chat bubble showed she was typing for a long, long time. Finally, a message came through. She’d sent $1,200 back. “I’m in a really tight spot right now… can I keep this for now? I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.” She was so considerate! “What’s your name?” I asked. She told me her name was Chloe, and that she was an orphan who’d been working odd jobs since she turned sixteen. But because she wasn’t legally an adult, she could only find temporary gigs. She’d recently lost her job and was completely broke. I was confused. “If you don’t have money, where do you live?” “I’ve slept under bridges, at construction sites… right now I’m renting a room,” she replied. “The rent is super cheap, only $50 a month. But even that’s becoming hard to pay.” “Don’t worry,” I told her. “It’s a mom’s job to take care of her daughter. I’ll send you $1,500 every month from now on.” I’d done my research, after all. All the older girls online said the job market was brutal. Even college graduates couldn’t support themselves. I was a mom now. I couldn’t be too hard on my daughter. A little while later, my mom came home from shopping. She knocked on my door. “Sweetheart, Maria told me you sent someone sanitary pads. What’s that all about?” “I sent them to my daughter!” I chirped, bouncing on my heels. Mom jumped. “Your daughter? Where did you get a daughter?” I held up my tablet, pointing at the screen. “The phone matched me with her! She’s this poor, sweet girl, and it’s her birthday today, but she’s on her period, so I sent her some supplies.” Mom’s expression was strange, but she spoke patiently. “Honey, you know there are a lot of scammers online. They trick people into giving them money.” I didn’t believe her. “The courier said her place was awful, and she’s an orphan with no one to look after her. If I don’t help her, she’ll end up like that poor girl in the storybook, the one who had nobody and froze in the snow!” “You mean the Little Match Girl?” Mom asked. “Yes! That’s the one!” I nodded vigorously. Mom covered her face with her hand, looking exhausted. “Sweetheart, real life isn’t a fairy tale.” “I know that,” I said, my face serious. “In a game, you can respawn. But in real life, when you die, you’re gone forever.” My eyes started to well up with tears. I hugged my mom’s leg and looked up at her. “I don’t want my daughter to die.” Mom sighed, finally giving in. “Alright. But you can’t give her too much money, okay?” I nodded. “She’s a good girl, she’s easy to take care of. She only needs $1,500 a month.” My monthly allowance is ten thousand dollars. It’s not a lot, but it’s more than enough to support her. Mom finally agreed, and my tears turned into a grin. Having a daughter was a big responsibility, and I took it very seriously. But I was still in kindergarten, so I could only chat with her in the evenings. Today at snack time, the teacher gave us two little cupcakes. I saved one, and paired it with a carton of milk, asking Maria to send it to her via courier. Dad chuckled. “The delivery fee costs more than the cupcake.” “That’s not the point!” I huffed. “The point is, I’m worried she’s not eating properly.” Dad looked at me, intrigued. “You think about her a lot, don’t you?” I nodded, scooping a spoonful of pudding into my mouth. “Yeah. I think about her every day.” Mom smiled. “It’s true what they say. The only person who can tie a mother down is her child.” I giggled. That evening, Mom came into my room to read me a story, but I turned her down. She looked me up and down, her eyes wide with disbelief. “But you love it when Mommy reads you a bedtime story.” I gently pushed her towards the door. “I do. But now I have a daughter, and I have to read her a bedtime story. So you can’t read to me anymore.” Mom looked a little crestfallen. “So, you have a daughter now and you don’t need your mommy anymore?” I patted her leg reassuringly. “Mommy, you’re a grown-up. My daughter is still a baby, she needs more care. It’s not that I love her more than you, it’s that she needs me more.” After sending my pouting mother away, I climbed into my bed and pulled out my tablet to read to my daughter. “The little bunny, Pip, lay on the soft grass, gazing at the stars. Suddenly, a shimmering star fell from the sky and landed in the forest. He hopped over and found the star, its light flickering weakly. Pip used a flower petal wet with dew to mend the star’s light, and it flew back into the heavens. Pip fell asleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of playing with his new friend among the constellations…” My daughter must have loved it, because when I woke up, I saw she’d sent me an emoji. A smiling, happy face. Hehe. She liked my story. Dad warned me to be very careful. No sending pictures of myself, and absolutely no sneaking out to meet her. As much as I wanted to see my daughter, I knew it was dangerous for a kid to go out alone, so the thought never even crossed my mind. But my daughter was amazing. She was living all by herself and she’d already found a new job. “I got a job at a bubble tea shop! I’ll get my first paycheck next month. It’s my first ever long-term job.” Her words were full of joy, but my heart felt heavy. She was so young, already struggling to make a life for herself. It made this old mom’s heart ache. Now that she was earning money, she told me I didn’t need to send her an allowance anymore. But I kept sending it, telling her to save the extra or buy herself something nice. I told her I’d stop once she was more stable at her job. But she always sent $1,200 back, only keeping $300 a month. Sigh. I blew a kiss at the screen. My baby was so easy to take care of. But gradually, she seemed to get busier. My messages would sit on “read” for hours before she’d reply. At night, I’d start reading her a bedtime story and fall asleep before she even had a chance to listen. Sigh. I sat on the sofa, hugging my stuffed bunny, feeling gloomy. Mom came over and wrapped her arms around me. “What’s wrong, my little Lily-bug?” “I don’t get to talk to my daughter as much anymore,” I mumbled, my face full of woe. “We used to chat all afternoon after I got home from school, but now we barely say a few words before bedtime.” Mom stroked my hair, her head tilted in sympathy. “And that makes you sad?” I nodded. “Yes. I’m very sad.” “You know, Lily,” Mom said softly, “the bond between a mother and daughter is like a journey where you slowly walk further apart.” I looked up at her and shook my head honestly. “No, I don’t know.” Mom choked for a second, then cleared her throat and continued. “Well, to put it simply, the older she gets, the less she’ll be in touch. She’ll have school, then a job, then she’ll want to have fun. She’ll need friends, a partner, maybe even her own children. Her life will get bigger and bigger, so the space for her parents gets smaller and smaller. And we… we have to learn to let go.” I cupped my face in my hands, rested my chin on them, and let out another heavy sigh. “Okay. I get it.” I had to learn to be a less clingy mom. Today was a great day because my daughter told me she had the whole day off. In the morning, I put on my little backpack and announced to my dad, “I’m not going to school today.” Dad looked confused. “Why not?” I beamed, spreading my arms wide. “Because my daughter has the day off! We can play all day long!” Dad glanced at his phone. “But it’s Wednesday, Lily. You don’t have a day off.” “Then I can take a sick day!” I pouted. “It’s not fair, she barely ever gets a holiday.” But he just grabbed my little backpack, plopped me in the car, and said with an infuriating grin, “Nope. Today, you’re going to learn about one of life’s most important lessons: you don’t always get what you want.” Ugh, stupid Dad! At kindergarten, I zoned out while the teacher tried to show us how to draw. Daisy sidled up to me curiously. “Lily, what’s wrong?” I glanced at her, my voice listless. “I miss my daughter.” She tilted her head and pulled out her Barbie doll. “You didn’t bring yours? You can borrow mine.” I looked at the curly-haired doll and just waved my hand dismissively. Sigh. She wouldn’t understand. The second school was out, I grabbed my tablet and messaged my daughter. “How was your day off? Did you have fun?” “I spent the whole day in bed, just playing on my phone,” she replied. “It was pure bliss.” I scratched my head. She finally gets a day off, and she doesn’t go out and do something fun? On weekends, Mom and Dad take me to amusement parks or ice skating. We do anything but stay home. I didn’t get it. I must have taken too long to reply, because her next message was hesitant. “Do you think that’s… pathetic?” I’m a very honest kid, so I asked her honestly. “Why didn’t you go out? It was such a rare day off, what a waste.” “It’s not a waste,” she said, and then added, a little embarrassed, “Going out costs money, and… I’m just really tired from work. I just wanted to rest at home.” It dawned on me then. This was probably the most affordable way for her to rest. “You’re such a good girl,” I praised her. I wanted to say that I could pay for her to go out, but then I remembered she said she was tired. Maybe she really did just want to stay home. I had to respect her choice. I patted my own little chest, satisfied with my mature handling of the situation.

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1 I’ve always faced things head-on. When I found my firefighter fiancé’s phone buzzing with flirty texts from a stranger, I didn’t hesitate—I confronted Cole. After a heavy silence, he confessed: “I rescued her during a call. She’s depressed. I was tempted, but…” His eyes pleaded. “Jasmine, we’ve been together since high school. I’ll keep my distance.” Heartbroken but trusting, I forgave him. The wedding went ahead. Then, as we exchanged rings, his teammate burst in: “Captain! Raven’s on a rooftop—she’s going to jump!” The ring slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. Cole bolted like lightning, never looking back. I screamed after him, voice breaking: “If you leave, we’re done!” He broke his promise after all. … The wedding hall dissolved into chaos. The whispers of the guests were like a thousand tiny needles piercing my eardrums. Our parents rushed to my side, their faces etched with confusion. Cole’s teammate, Sam, stood awkwardly to the side, his face beet red. “Jasmine… Raven… she has depression. The last time she tried to jump, the Captain saved her. She… she really relies 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…” Sam had been on Cole’s team for three years. He’d always been respectful, calling me “Jasmine” with a warm, easy smile. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I had no idea how many secrets he’d helped Cole keep from me, or what his connection was to this girl, Raven. A dull, crushing ache spread through my chest. The betrayal was real, a physical weight. My parents held my hands, their voices frantic. “What on earth is going on? Isn’t he on leave for the wedding? Who could possibly need him to save them right now?” Cole’s parents, mortified, were already on the phone, trying to reach him. His mother kept muttering, “Don’t you worry, Jasmine, I’ll get that boy back here right now. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll break his legs!” The diamond ring lay on the red carpet, kicked aside by the shuffling feet, a perfect metaphor for my shattered heart. I stood frozen, the train of my wedding dress pooling around me like a storm-beaten cloud. The wedding I had dreamed of a million times had turned into this humiliating nightmare. The groom had abandoned his bride at the altar, for another woman. Five hours. One hundred and eight missed calls. Cole didn’t answer a single one. I watched my phone screen light up and dim, over and over, until it finally went black. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the chapel, casting mottled patterns of light on the floor, on my bare ring finger. The light felt ice-cold. The guests gradually dispersed, leaving behind a mess of confetti and half-eaten food. Suddenly, the world started to spin. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was my mother’s panicked scream. When I opened my eyes again, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. A nurse was changing my IV drip. Seeing me awake, she spoke softly. “You’re caring for two now. You can’t afford to get so worked up. You need to take care of yourself.” I stared at the ceiling, silent tears tracing paths into my hair. From the moment I’d accepted a love letter from Cole on the high school track field at seventeen, to the time he’d taken a twenty-hour train ride just to surprise me during our long-distance college relationship, to the day he became a firefighter, his eyes red-rimmed as he swore, “From now on, I’ll protect the people, but I’ll always protect you.” Seven years. The memories flashed through my mind like a sped-up movie. I looked at the poorly concealed excitement on our parents’ faces and managed a bitter smile. A fresh wave of tears welled in my eyes. How was I supposed to tell them that this seven-year marathon of love had finally reached its end? 2 At seven in the evening, after disappearing for a full six hours, Cole finally showed up. He looked pale, and his eyes were full of guilt. “Jasmine, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Raven… I couldn’t just let her die. Saving people is my duty.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “There are other firefighters. Did they really need you, specifically?” My voice was sharper than I intended. “She chose today, of all days, to jump. And she wouldn’t come down until you got there. What do you think her intentions are, Cole? I’m not an idiot.” He was silent for a long time, then took my cold hand in his. His voice was raw. “Jasmine, in seven years, I’ve never asked you for anything. Just this once, I’m begging you. Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. Don’t cause any trouble for Raven, okay? I’m afraid with her condition… she couldn’t handle the blowback.” I stared at the desperate plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, the pain taking my breath away. He shouldn’t be begging me for favors. He should be apologizing. A person’s first reaction is always the most honest. He hadn’t thought about how humiliated I was, left alone at our wedding. He wasn’t worried about why I’d ended up in the hospital. His first words, his first thoughts, were all about Raven. Tears fell like broken pearls, splashing onto the white sheets and spreading into dark, wet stains. It took all my strength to force a single word from my throat. “Fine.” He visibly relaxed. “Raven is very unstable, knowing that I was getting married. Let’s postpone the wedding for now.” His voice was careful, testing the waters. “I’ll stay with her while she gets treatment. Once she’s a bit more stable… maybe three months. Just three months, and then we’ll have our wedding. Okay?” I had waited seven years. Another three months shouldn’t have mattered. But looking at the concern for another woman shining in his eyes, I suddenly felt that I couldn’t wait even three more months. The tiny life inside me seemed to sense my turmoil and gave a soft flutter. I placed a hand on my abdomen, where a six-week-old secret was hidden. It was ours, his and mine, but it felt like it had nothing to do with him anymore. Slowly, I pulled my hand back. My voice was as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “Cole.” “I don’t have the best memory, but I remember when I was seventeen, and you handed me that love letter on the track field, so nervous you were walking with your arm and leg on the same side moving together.” “I remember the first time you held my hand, your palm was sweating so much, and you didn’t let go for three whole blocks.” “I remember on our college graduation day, you held me and said you’d take care of me for the rest of my life, that you’d make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years, you remembered that I hate cilantro, that I need ginger tea during my period, you remembered all my little quirks… I always thought you cherished me, that I was the most important person in your world.” I looked up at him, and the tears finally broke free. “But today, I can’t feel your love for me anymore.” Seven years of memories swirled in my mind. Cole’s eyes reddened too. A single tear escaped and traced a path down his cheek. “But Jasmine… Raven needs me right now.” She needs me. Those three words shattered the last of my illusions. I looked at him and suddenly, I laughed, a broken, tear-filled sound. “Then go to her.” He stared, clearly not expecting me to say that. But in the end, he didn’t argue. He turned and walked out of the hospital room. 3 The next day, as I was packing my things to leave the hospital, I ran into Cole in the hallway. He didn’t even see me. All his attention was focused on the girl beside him. She was wearing a hospital gown, her face pale, and he was half-supporting, half-carrying her, like a frightened fawn. So this was the woman who had made him abandon me at our wedding. My stare must have been too intense, because Raven saw me first. She instinctively shrank behind Cole, her fingers clutching the hem of his shirt. Only then did Cole turn to look at me. His brow furrowed instantly, his tone laced with impatience. “Jasmine, Raven is not stable. Whatever you have to say, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene at the hospital. You’ll scare her.” Raven peeked out from behind him, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. “Jasmine… there’s really nothing between me and Cole… 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 check out.” With that, I turned and walked toward the billing office, ignoring them. Cole’s expression was strange for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected me to be so calm. An odd, empty feeling stirred in his chest. He reached out to grab my arm. As I instinctively turned, my eyes fell on a faint smudge on the lapel of my favorite trench coat, which I was wearing. His eyes followed mine. He saw me take off the coat. He started to take off his own jacket, intending to drape it over my shoulders, but I stepped away. He froze, then followed me, reaching for the coat in my hands. “Give it to me. I know how much you love this coat. I’ll have it cleaned for you.” I shook my head and tossed the coat directly into a nearby trash can. My voice was flat. “Just throw it away. I don’t like things that are stained. You know me, I’m a bit of a perfectionist.” Seeing my cold expression, the smile on Cole’s face froze. He knew I wasn’t just talking about the coat. I was talking about our relationship. By the time he opened his mouth to say something else, I had already paid my bill and was gone. Not long after I left the hospital, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Cole. [Don’t be mad at me. I bought you that napoleon from the bakery you like. It’s on its way.] When the delivery arrived, I stared at the familiar pink box and laughed. Whenever he’d made me angry in the past, he’d always bought me this pastry 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, Cole didn’t come home. Untangling myself from a seven-year relationship was more painful than I had imagined. I lay awake until dawn, then finally gave up and started packing. The matching couple’s hoodies in the closet, the framed photos on the bookshelf, the sticky notes on the fridge… every object was a thorn of memory. I remembered the year we graduated. Cole 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. “Jasmine, as soon as I save up enough for a down payment, I’m going to marry you.” Three years later, he stood before me with the deed to a house and a diamond ring, his voice trembling. “I did it. I’m giving you a home. I kept my promise.” The sun was so bright that day. I hugged him and cried for a long time, feeling like the happiest person in the world. We painted the walls together, assembled furniture, and filled the balcony with sunflowers, my favorite. He said he wanted sunlight to always fill our home. But now, this home had no place for me. As I closed the last storage box, the sky outside was beginning to lighten. When I called for a moving truck, both sets of our parents arrived. I hadn’t told them the details about Cole, so they were still confused as to why a couple who was about to get married just two days ago was suddenly separating. My parents sighed but didn’t press. They just said, “Come home whenever you want.” But Cole’s mother grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go. “Jasmine, please, just give Cole one more chance. What happened at the wedding… he was just confused for a moment…” I didn’t say anything. I just motioned for the movers to continue. Just as his mother was about to wear out her welcome, the door opened. Cole was back. And he had brought Raven with him. She was wearing Cole’s jacket, clinging to his arm like a newly adopted kitten. The room fell deathly silent. Every gaze was fixed on them. Cole’s mother’s voice trembled. “Cole… did you… did you do something to betray Jasmine?” His father was shaking with rage. “Who is this woman?!” Cole didn’t answer. He just scanned the empty living room, his eyes finally landing on me. “You’re moving out?” “Yes,” I answered calmly. “Back to my parents’ house.” He seemed to relax a little. “Okay. I’ll come get you before the next wedding.” He said it so casually, then stepped aside, pulling Raven in front of him. “This is Raven. She’s a patient I rescued who suffers from depression. The department has asked me to look after her for a while to help stabilize her condition.” His straightforward explanation made our earlier suspicions seem petty and small-minded. Raven offered a sweet smile and reached for his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you. Cole 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 taste my cooking.” Cole’s mother looked at me, her expression pained. “Jasmine, maybe… maybe we should all sit down and talk this out?” I was about to refuse when Raven cut in, her eyes glinting with a provocative light. “Yes, Jasmine, you should stay too. The more the merrier, right?” Smack. The sharp sound of a slap echoed through the room. My eyes flew open in shock. My mother had just slapped Raven across the face. “Mom!” My mother’s eyes were red, her voice trembling. “I gave birth to you. You think I don’t know you? You were with him from seventeen to twenty-four. Seven years! You quit your job at the design firm to be a housewife for him, learned to cook his favorite sweet and sour fish, you even knew exactly where he kept his socks… If your heart wasn’t completely broken, would you leave?” Her voice rose, filled with a mother’s righteous anger. “I don’t care if you marry a rich man or a poor man, but today, he brings this tramp to our home to humiliate you, and I will not stand for it! If you won’t fight back, I will!” Her words hit me like a thunderclap, and my eyes burned. Raven clutched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn’t dare cry out. Cole immediately shielded her, his face dark and menacing. “Jasmine! You’re a grown woman! Are you still running to your parents to complain—” I didn’t let him finish. I surged forward and slapped him across the face. “Cole, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” I then snatched a piece of paper from the coffee table drawer and threw it at him. It was the ultrasound report. “You know what my biggest regret is?” Cole picked up the paper. When he saw what was written on it, his pupils contracted. “Jasmine… you’re pregnant?” I watched the wild joy ignite in his eyes. I watched him lunge towards me, shouting, “I’m going to be a father!” and I was struck by the bitter irony of it all. He had forgotten about Raven standing right there. He had forgotten his desertion at our wedding. He had forgotten his coldness over the past few days. It was as if a baby could erase everything. But those moments of abandonment, those sleepless nights, that shattered trust… how could they just be forgotten? I shoved him away, my eyes blazing. “Don’t celebrate too soon!” My voice was a raw shout. “This baby… yesterday, when you came to the hospital begging me to help you protect Raven, I scheduled the abortion.”

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In the third year of the Scorch, the ozone layer had vanished, forcing all of humanity into the subterranean Citadel. As a primary investor in the Citadel, my husband and I lived on the privileged Level Two. Then one day, he brought a girl back from the Warrens of Level Three, a fragile thing wasting away from sickness. “Rory,” he said, his voice urgent as he rushed past me, the girl cradled in his arms. “Life on Level Three is brutal. Anya is sick. I couldn’t just leave her to die.” I watched him go, my gaze dropping to the polished floor. “You haven’t forgotten the population caps, have you?” I reminded him quietly. “Level Two has strict limits. One resident per registered slot.” He didn’t even spare me a glance, his tone dripping with self-righteousness. “I know. That’s why you’ll have to take Anya’s place in the Warrens for a while. Just until she’s better. Then I’ll bring you back.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen, rooted to the spot. Once he had disappeared into the guest room, I stepped out onto our private balcony, my hand trembling as I dialed the secure line to Level One. “I’ve made my decision,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. “I want to join the Apocalypse Recovery Project.” … 1 The voice on the other end was electric with excitement. “Aurora, that’s fantastic news! Level One needs talent like yours!” The Citadel was a three-tiered world. Level One was the top-secret heart of the Citadel, home to our best scientists and engineers, the core of our entire civilization, completely sealed off from the rest. Level Two was the residential zone for the Citadel’s founders and benefactors. And Level Three, over the years, had degenerated into the Warrens—the Citadel’s dark, lawless underbelly. I had just hung up when Lucas emerged from the room. He rubbed his temples, a weary look on his face. “Anya’s very ill. She needs medical supplies, urgently.” “So what are you going to do?” I asked without turning, terrified that if I faced him, the tears would finally fall. Lucas’s voice was low, determined. “Cure her, of course. Whatever it takes. I’ve already called for a doctor.” Three years into the Scorch, medical resources were more precious than gold. Each family was allotted only one doctor’s visit per year. A month ago, when my own fever had spiked to 104 degrees, leaving me dizzy and seeing black spots, I’d gritted my teeth and endured it, unwilling to use our one chance. But now, for a girl he just met, Lucas was squandering it without a second thought. He was completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me. “Rory,” he said, his tone still maddeningly calm, “I’ve arranged for a transport. They’ll be here in three days to take you to the Warrens to assume Anya’s residency slot.” I squeezed my eyes shut. When I turned to face him, my fingertips darted to the corner of my eye, swiping away a single, traitorous tear. “Lucas, did you even think about me in all of this?” His response was just as cold. “Rory, you know I can’t stand by and watch someone suffer. It’s not who I am.” A bitter, humorless smile twisted my lips. There were thousands of people suffering. Why was it always her? He must have seen the look on my face, because he pressed on. “I was passing through Level Three the other day, and I saw her. She was like an angel, Rory, singing for the children in the Warrens. How could I let a light like that be extinguished?” I took a step back, the trembling in my voice impossible to hide now. “So you sacrifice me instead? You trade me away to the Warrens?” Level Three wasn’t just poor; it was a chaotic hellscape teeming with the desperate and the violent. There was no guarantee I would even survive down there. Lucas’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Don’t be so dramatic, Aurora. It’s not a sacrifice. It’s a temporary arrangement.” Just then, a knock echoed at the door. The doctor. Lucas hurried to let him in, leaving me standing there, forgotten once again. I leaned against the sofa for support, my body suddenly weak. Through the crack in the bedroom door, I could see the girl on the bed, her lips pale, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. A sudden, hacking cough erupted from the room. Lucas practically dragged the doctor inside, his focus entirely on her. There was no wind in the Citadel, but a bone-deep chill had settled over me. It was late, long past midnight, when the doctor finally left. Lucas, in a brief moment of acknowledging my existence, found time to deliver his final command. “You see how sick she is. She needs absolute quiet to recover. In three days, you have to go. If you’re still here when the Level Two Wardens do their next population check, we’ll all be in trouble.” I lifted my exhausted eyes to meet his, a bitter taste filling my mouth. At that exact moment, my phone buzzed with a new message. [Ms. Shepherd, a liaison will arrive in three days to escort you to Level One. Welcome to the project.] 2 I silently blanked the screen and forced a brittle smile. “Fine. I’ll leave.” Where I was going, however, was no longer his decision to make. He let out a sigh of relief and leaned in to place a quick, dry peck on my forehead. “I knew you’d understand, Rory. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back before you know it.” I subtly wiped the spot his lips had touched. That night, Lucas stayed by Anya’s bedside, a devoted sentinel. I sat on the living room sofa, sleep evading me as memories, sharp as broken glass, tormented me through the long, quiet hours. Lucas had been a scholarship student my father sponsored. He was so brilliant that my father paid for him to study abroad with me in California. Back then, he was the boy who would cross half of Los Angeles just to buy me a specific piece of cake, the boy who would wait outside my dorm every night with a warm container of food because he knew I hated the campus cafeteria. Now, Lucas couldn’t bear the thought of a “pure, white jasmine flower” like Anya being crushed in the wasteland. But he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten the promise he made seven years ago, at my father’s deathbed. He had sworn to protect me, to ensure that the Shepherd family’s rose would never wither. The Scorch hadn’t come yet. His vows were meant to last an eternity. Now, those same vows had grown thorns, each one piercing my heart. How could someone who was once so good turn so rotten, so suddenly? I couldn’t understand it. But I understood one thing with chilling clarity: whatever path lay ahead, I would be walking it alone. The next morning, Lucas was in the kitchen at dawn, a rare sight. He was simmering a nutrient-rich broth for Anya. I ignored him completely, walking into my study and pulling out my suitcase. The small noises must have woken Anya. After a night of medical care, she was conscious. Her eyes met mine. And then, she went berserk. She scrambled off the bed and threw herself at my feet, banging her head on the floor like a terrified, cornered animal. “Please, don’t hit me! I-I’ll be good, I swear! I’m very quiet, please don’t hit me!” I stared at her, stunned. A frantic rush of footsteps sounded behind me. “Rory! What are you doing to her?!” Lucas stormed into the room, scooping the trembling girl into his arms. His eyes, fixed on me, were bloodshot with fury. He had never lost his composure like this. Not even three years ago, when the Scorch began and our own child was lost in the chaos of the evacuation. He had remained a pillar of stoic grief. But now, for a girl he barely knew, he was turning on me. Anya clung to him, tears streaming down her face. “Please… please don’t send me back to the Warrens… I can sing for you…” Lucas held her tighter, his voice a low, gentle murmur. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Lucas is here.” Then he turned his head, his words for me laced with steel. “She was horribly abused on Level Three, Rory. Don’t you dare try to intimidate her!” I let out a long, slow breath, a wave of profound exhaustion washing over me. “I used to think you were blind, Lucas. Now I see I was the one who couldn’t see.” Blind enough to waste my entire youth on a man like him. For a moment, he looked stunned, a flicker of some unreadable emotion in his eyes. I didn’t wait for him to process it. I turned and walked away. It turns out, when you’re hurt enough, you don’t even have the energy left to fight. Back in my study, I opened an old silver locket. Inside was a photo of the three of us: him, me, and our daughter. The sight of our brilliant, long-lost smiles stung my eyes. The day of the great migration into the Citadel, our daughter had slipped, falling into a fissure that split the earth. There was nothing left to bury. I had cried until my throat was raw and my tears ran dry, and only then did Lucas finally show up. The memory sent a fresh wave of sharp, familiar pain through my chest. Just then, the door creaked open. It was Lucas. He saw me caressing the locket, his expression complicated. “It was an accident, Rory. If our daughter were still here, she wouldn’t want you to be so sad.” He held out a bowl of the broth. “Here, eat something. Your stomach is always giving you trouble.” I snapped the locket shut, a self-mocking smile on my face. “Don’t bring me Anya’s leftovers.” Seeing his peace offering rejected, Lucas’s patience snapped. He slammed the bowl down on my desk. “For God’s sake, Rory, I’m just asking you to stay in the Warrens for a few months! Are you going to hold this grudge forever? Anya is a delicate girl, and she survived down there for three years. Why can’t you?” I slowly raised my heavy eyelids. “Then why don’t you go?” He blinked, not comprehending at first. When my words registered, his face flushed with anger. “I’m the head of this household! If I leave, what kind of a home would this be?” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “Let me remind you, Rory. If you dare make things difficult for that poor girl, don’t expect me to ever come get you.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I walked to my bookshelf and let out a cold, hollow laugh. Three years in the apocalypse, and he still didn’t get it. Lucas, have you forgotten? Without me, you wouldn’t even have the right to breathe the recycled air of Level Two. 3 Before the Scorch, I was a lead researcher at Caltech. A rising star. For Lucas, I gave up a guaranteed spot on Level One, choosing instead to bring him with me to the relative comfort of Level Two. Not only had my family’s money funded a significant portion of the Citadel’s construction, but without my credentials, he wouldn’t have even qualified for a slot in the Warrens. Of course, in this new world, talent was the most valuable currency of all. On my second-to-last night, I was organizing my research files deep into the night when a sound pulled me from my work. A soft, rhythmic creaking from the bedroom, followed by her breathless sighs and his low murmurs. The sounds of intimacy, a sound I hadn’t shared with him in years. My fingers trembled. Fighting back a wave of nausea, I walked out of the study. The sounds grew clearer, painting a vivid, sickening picture in my mind. Then, I heard Lucas’s voice, thick and husky. “Anya… give me a child…” My hand froze on the doorknob. After our daughter died, the Citadel Directorate had granted us a special procreation permit to help repopulate. But what had Lucas said back then? He’d said our daughter was his only child, that he would never have another. So, it wasn’t that he didn’t want another child. It was that he wanted to give that chance—my chance to be a mother again—to Anya. The realization hit me, and all the remaining warmth in my heart turned to ash. I walked back to the study like a zombie, the last vestiges of my love for him finally, irrevocably gone. At dawn, Anya came to my study, her face a mask of doe-eyed apology. “Rory… I hope we didn’t disturb you last night?” “Get out,” I said, my voice flat and cold. Her eyes instantly welled with tears. “I-I didn’t mean to be so loud… I could sing for you, to make up for it? My specialty is—” I didn’t want to hear another word. I stood up and physically pushed her toward the door. As we struggled, a small, laminated photo slipped from her pocket and fluttered to the floor. I picked it up. It was a signed promotional photo. I vaguely recognized her now; before the Scorch, Anya had been a minor pop star. She smiled, a picture of innocence. “Do you want me to sign something for you, too? Lucas used to love coming to my shows!” A frown creased my brow. I flipped the photo over. On the back was a candid snapshot of Anya and Lucas, laughing together. And at the bottom, a date was neatly inscribed: March 21, 2060.

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1 I married into the Clarke family as the bride of their guardian deity, a merman. The only problem? He had issues in the bedroom. After he kicked me out of bed for the hundredth time, I’d had enough. In a fit of anger, I asked the clan elder to dissolve our contract. Just then, a series of comments popped into my vision, like a live-stream chat. 【He just doesn’t want their first time to be during his heat, right…?】 【Did she seriously not notice he hides in the pool the moment she enters the room?】 【But if a merman holds back his heat for too long, he’ll die! If she won’t do it, the female lead is about to make her grand entrance!】 I froze for a second, then my hand drifted towards his magnificent, shimmering tail… “What are you doing?” Adrian Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. His iridescent, slender fish tail tightened reflexively in the water, but his voice was as cold and detached as ever. A pang of guilt hit me. I quickly hid the annulment contract behind my back. “I just came to see if you were sick…” The pop-up comments scrolled frantically. 【Oh, he’s sick alright! He needs you to get in the pool with him to get better!】 【I can’t believe these two are so dense. With a setup this steamy, this is all we get to see?!】 【It’s because she’s always thought he hated her. If she hadn’t been caught planning to go out drinking tonight, he’d be so wrapped around her finger there’d be no room for the female lead.】 “Can you leave?” Adrian sank deeper into the water, only his faintly defined collarbones visible above the surface. “Oh.” He really did despise me. I’d grown numb to hearing those words. But the pop-up comments seemed to read my mind. 【He doesn’t despise you! If you keep staring, he’s going to drag you into that water!】 【A human would drown if they went in the water before mating with a merman. He’d never let that happen to her…】 【Still, a merman’s tail is his most sensitive part. His wife just touched it. He’s probably dying of pleasure right now!】 The cool, smooth sensation still lingered on my fingertips. I looked at the comments, my face flushing scarlet all the way to my ears, and fled the room. That evening, Adrian finally emerged from his chambers, wrapped in a bathrobe. His tail had transformed back into human legs. “There’s a clan ritual tonight. We’ll go together.” As the clan’s guardian, his presence was mandatory every year. Me? I was a different story. Every year, I was forced to stand in a corner as punishment until dawn. “I don’t want to go. Find someone else.” Adrian’s eyes fell. I expected him to revert to his usual self—a cold silence, a mumbled “do as you please,” and a swift exit. But after a long moment, he did something unusual. He stepped closer, his eyes shimmering with a watery vulnerability. “Please… just this once.” A new comment flashed across my vision. 【The most skilled hunters always appear as the prey!】 【Such a shame. His seductive gaze is wasted on a fool. Not only will she reject him, but she’ll tear up the contract right in front of his face…】 【The author is so cruel to him! Good thing he sees her messing around later. After he loses control and the female lead saves him, this side character’s role is pretty much over.】 【Oh, she’ll be back. At the end, when she’s cast out by the family and used as a living sacrifice…】 A chill ran down my spine. My mouth moved faster than my brain. “Fine… but only because you begged me.” I thought he’d be angry, but a flicker of joy ignited in his eyes. Could the pop-up comments be true? Did Adrian actually like me? He felt my intense gaze and awkwardly turned his head away. I found this fascinating. My hand, as if with a mind of its own, drifted to the small of his back. “So… can I see your tail again?” Adrian froze completely. The pop-up comments, which had been scrolling wildly, fell silent for a half-second. 【Did I hear that right?! Not only did she agree to go to the ritual, but she wants to see his tail?!】 【Ahem… you can’t blame her. She skipped every clan lesson about this. She has no idea that’s a merman’s mating proposal…】 Adrian, still in the pool, was breathing heavily, as if he were about to drown. But he was a merman, an ancient deity from the depths of the sea… “You! You have no shame!” I was stunned. Adrian was not at all what I had imagined. 2 I licked my lips awkwardly. “Fine, don’t show me then.” 【She’s calling your bluff! Adrian, don’t be a coward!】 【If you push her away now, you’ll just be back in the pool later, crying and hugging that doll of her…】 It was hard to imagine Adrian crying. And what doll? I was so absorbed in the comments that I didn’t notice Adrian had grabbed my hand. “Not here… I can only transform in the water.” I was too shocked to speak, letting him lead me back into his chambers. This was the first time we’d had any physical contact since our wedding day. As the Clarke family’s guardian deity, Adrian had slumbered at the bottom of the sea. The Clarkes had built their maritime empire over generations, their legends of the mermen growing more fantastical with each telling. But I was a skeptic. I had to see for myself. So, I went diving. I had no idea. Mermen were real. Adrian was sleeping among the lush seaweed, his upper body bare, his long, iridescent tail refracting the light into a rainbow of colors. He looked like a god. No, he was a god. I’ll admit it: I was smitten. I was so captivated that I almost used up all my oxygen. Suddenly, just an inch from my face, Adrian’s eyes snapped open. They were clearer and more brilliant than the ocean itself. “You’re about to die.” That was the first thing he ever said to me. After he brought me to shore, I begged the clan elder to arrange our marriage. I was blinded by lust at the time, never imagining that after the wedding, I wouldn’t even get to touch his hand… but now… The tips of Adrian’s ears were blood-red, but he obediently slipped into the water, his long, slender tail materializing. “Come here.” He was too far away. I held out my hand to him. Adrian slowly pressed his face against my palm, his voice tinged with a hint of grievance. “A merman is not a pet…” My heart exploded. He was just like a puppy! His warm, moist breath tickled my palm. I instinctively pulled my hand back, but he seized the moment, pulling me into the water with him. I let out a startled cry, my body plastered against his. “You… are you trying to rebel?!” My tongue was tied in knots. A cunning glint flashed in Adrian’s eyes. He looked like a predator who, after a long, patient hunt, had finally caught his prey. “I told you.” His voice was a low growl. “A merman is not a pet.” My heart pounded. I don’t know if it was the rising water temperature, but my head was growing fuzzy. Suddenly, a shrill ringing pierced the air. I scrambled to turn off my phone, but my wet hand accidentally hit the answer button. “Babe, I’ve got something good for you!” my best friend’s voice chirped. “A six-foot-two college hunk, table’s booked. You’re gonna love him!” I felt an unprecedented wave of pressure from behind me. I quickly hung up. By the time I turned around, Adrian had already wrapped himself in a bathrobe and left without a word. 【He’s so mad. As if he’s not six-foot-two himself, hahaha.】 【Looks like the plot is back on track. A leopard can’t change its spots!】 3 【If she’d just turn back to him, Adrian would be her loyal dog. He’d just lick her hand and give a little woof.】 【Yeah! Can some human model really have as many tricks as our little merman?】 How would I know how many tricks Adrian had… Besides, who said anything about a model! I called my best friend back. “Don’t call me for this stuff anymore. I’ve got a strict one at home now.” There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a burst of hysterical laughter. “June Clarke, are you hallucinating from starvation? Didn’t you say you haven’t had a decent meal since you got married?” Well… she wasn’t wrong. “Things have changed. Gotta go. I’m off to reclaim what’s rightfully mine!” “What the hell are you on about…” I hung up before she could finish and set off. According to the pop-up comments, tonight’s ritual was where Adrian was supposed to meet the female lead for the first time. I had to see for myself what kind of sacred being she was. On the way, the clan elder called. “June Clarke! Where are you messing around now?! You were the one who begged for this contract, and now you’re making excuses to skip the ritual?!” Marrying a merman was a tradition in our clan. But the merman lineage had been broken for centuries, leaving only the slumbering Adrian, so the tradition had faded. After Adrian reawakened, many in the clan coveted this marriage. After all, a woman who had been intimate with a merman, aside from not growing a tail, was said to become like one of them. Not to mention, Adrian was far more handsome than the portraits of his ancestors… He was a hot commodity. “Elder, don’t worry.” I found a place to pull on my diving suit and checked all my equipment. “The ritual is in the same waters as always, right?” The last time I’d been in these waters was when I first met Adrian. The memory made my heart race. I quickened my pace towards the sea. 【Is she really going?】 【This was supposed to be the first meeting between the male and female leads. How is this supposed to work with three people?】 My husband is about to fall in love with someone else? Who gave him permission?! I hopped on my jet ski and sped off. A large ship was anchored in the target area. “Elder, am I late?” Before the elder could speak, a middle-aged woman pointed a finger at me. “Your presence here pollutes the sacred waters! The clan’s shipping routes have had unprecedented problems this year. You must have angered the Merman God, bringing this heavenly punishment upon our family!” The elder frowned. “That’s enough!” So, not sleeping with Adrian brings heavenly punishment? I pulled on my mask, about to jump into the water, when someone stopped me. “Only one human is allowed in the ritual waters. Someone has already gone down in your place. You can wait on the ship.” My hand froze. After a moment, a wide smile spread across my face. “I am Adrian’s wife. Why should I wait here?” Splash! To everyone’s astonishment, I dove headfirst into the water. The calm surface of the sea instantly churned into a massive whirlpool, pulling me deep into its depths… 4 The whirlpool looked fierce, but it didn’t harm me in the slightest. After some time, I saw Adrian in the distance. A slender figure floated nearby. As I got closer, I realized there was a thick, shimmering barrier between them. The woman’s oxygen was running low, but she showed no intention of leaving. “I can help you, just look at me…” the woman signed frantically towards Adrian. Adrian’s brow was furrowed in extreme displeasure. “Not needed.” I could hear his voice, cold and distant. The woman must have heard it too. I swam closer. Just as I was about to touch the barrier, the woman grabbed my arm. “How did you get down here?!” she signed. “It’s dangerous. I’m enough. You should go back.” The next second, as my fingertips brushed against the barrier, I felt a powerful suction pull me straight through. Adrian’s condition was even worse than yesterday. Faint scales had begun to appear on his neck, opening and closing with each breath. “What are you doing here?” he grumbled, not looking at me, but the tips of his ears were bright red. “If I didn’t come, someone else would have snatched you away.” I opened my mouth and found I could speak freely, just like Adrian. The woman outside, watching this, turned red with frustration. Or maybe it was from lack of oxygen. “Aren’t you going to save her? She’s about to die,” I said. Adrian glanced at me from the corner of his eye, then slumped against my arm, completely limp. “I don’t know her.” He leaned against me, unmoving, until the woman finally gave up and floated to the surface. 【What’s happening?! Wasn’t the female lead supposed to save him? Why did she just leave?】 【Is the first steamy scene going to be underwater?】 【Is our little merman going to do it with her until she suffocates?】 Reading the comments, my heart hammered against my ribs. Just as I was mentally preparing myself, Adrian suddenly pulled away. “I’ve delayed you today. Let’s go.” I was surrounded by water, completely bewildered. What did he mean, he’d delayed me? I was all ready to go, and now he wanted me to leave? “Are you in a hurry to go see that girl?” Adrian’s back stiffened. Suddenly, the surrounding water began to churn violently. 5 I was swept into even deeper waters… It was pitch black all around, like being trapped in chaos. Suddenly, a faint, eerie light appeared before me. Of course. A merman belongs in the deep sea. In this moment, Adrian radiated a dangerous divinity. “Adrian?” I called out tentatively. The only response was the powerful flick of his tail fin. He wrapped me in a tight embrace. “Adrian, what’s wrong with you?” I wasn’t a sea creature. In a place like this, it was impossible not to feel a sense of panic. I pushed against him with all my might. Adrian’s dangerous, predatory pupils instantly became moist and chaotic. “I was wrong… don’t push me away.” 【The main couple is officially dead. Is he apologizing for accidentally letting the female lead go down the drain today?】 【Serves you right for leaving her in a huff. You almost lost your wife!】 【I don’t care anymore! I am the First Emperor of Qin, and I demand to see their underwater play!】 My heart softened. I let myself fall back into his arms. “I’m human. I’ll die here…” It was as if Adrian had blocked out all sound. He extended the sharp fin on his elbow and sliced a large gash in my wetsuit.

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I never thought it was possible to travel through time, to leap ten years into the future. But here I am. Thirty years old, stripped of all dignity in the dead of night, clinging to my husband’s body like some shameless woman, begging him to make love to me. “Curtis, please… just give me a child.” He shoved me away, his voice cold and distant. “Not tonight, Jena. Ava is only twenty. She’s sick, and I promised her brother I’d take care of her.” The thirty-year-old me might have accepted this. But the twenty-year-old me? Never. I threw the divorce papers at him. “Let’s get a divorce. You like them young? Fine. But you don’t deserve me.” 1 The moment Curtis pushed me away, my soul was ripped from its thirty-year-old vessel and then violently shoved back in. I was twenty again, trapped in a thirty-year-old’s body. There were fine lines around my eyes, but the eyes themselves burned with the clear, bright fire of my youth. He was about to leave. My voice, as cold as ice, stopped him. “Wait.” Curtis paused, his impatience a palpable thing in the room. “Jena, are you done? Ava’s brother died for me. She’s just a kid, and she’s running a 102-degree fever. You think I shouldn’t go?” He scoffed. “There’s a limit to your jealousy, you know.” “I’m not stopping you,” I said, my voice flat and emotionless. “But let’s get a divorce.” The words came out before I could even think. I didn’t know how I’d time-traveled, but the twenty-year-old me would never tolerate a husband with such blurred boundaries. I wouldn’t swallow my pride and suffer in silence. The thirty-year-old me might have been weighed down by a decade of compromises, but the twenty-year-old me had nothing to lose and all the courage in the world to start over. Curtis’s hand, which had been adjusting his shirt, froze. A look of disbelief, then amusement, crossed his face. “Jena, have you lost your mind?” I frowned. “Why do you assume I’m throwing a tantrum? He saved your life, yes. If you feel you owe him, then pay that debt with your own life, but don’t you dare drag me into it.” He sneered. “So, just because I won’t sleep with you tonight, you want a divorce? Jena, don’t be so ungrateful.” “Ungrateful?” I stood up straighter, my voice firm and serious. “It’s precisely because I’m not content. You can’t fulfill the basic needs of a partner, so what’s wrong with me wanting a divorce?” For the twenty-year-old me, even granting him this much of an explanation was a monumental effort. The thirty-year-old Curtis demanded far too much. “A divorce?” He still didn’t believe me. “Jena, can you please be reasonable for once? Now you’re resorting to threats? I don’t want to hear this kind of talk from you ever again.” As if on cue, his phone rang again. He answered it, his voice instantly melting into a gentle murmur, a stark contrast to the harsh tone he used with me. “Ava, I’m on my way.” “You’re not going anywhere,” I said, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. “We haven’t finished talking.” The thirty-year-old me loved this man. But the twenty-year-old me? I didn’t know him at all. He glared at me, a silent warning in his eyes. “Don’t push me, Jena. If anything happens to Ava because of this delay, I swear, you and I are finished.” I met his gaze without flinching. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to her. But you’re not going to delay me, either. If you have no objections, my lawyer will be in touch tomorrow.” “Do whatever you want,” he spat, slamming the door behind him. He was so certain I wouldn’t go through with it. He thought he had clipped my wings so thoroughly that I wouldn’t dare to fly. This time, he was wrong. After he left, I stumbled to the bathroom, still reeling from the impossible reality of time travel. The woman in the mirror was both familiar and a stranger. It was me, but not me. The corners of her eyes were etched with the passage of time, her skin no longer holding the tight, radiant glow of my twenties. A thirty-year-old woman. No job. No identity of her own. Pathetically hoping a child could solidify her position and hold onto a man whose heart had long since strayed. It was laughable. Utterly, tragically laughable. 2 Ten years of memories flooded my soul, a salty, bitter torrent of pain. At twenty, Jena had just won the national collegiate photography award, the golden trophy gleaming in her hands. An offer from the Paris College of Art sat on her desk. Back then, I stood in the spotlight, radiant and confident. Curtis was just one of many admirers in the crowd. After my graduation ceremony at twenty-two, a runaway truck had barreled towards me. It was Curtis who shoved me out of the way, without a thought for his own safety. His love felt so immense, so selfless. At twenty-two, I thought I had found my salvation. I believed, for the first time, that someone in this world truly loved me. I made peace with the world, with my past. I clipped my own wings, gave up my dream of studying abroad, and at twenty-four, I became Mrs. Thorne. For the first two years of our marriage, Curtis had treated me like a precious treasure, convincing me with a thousand sweet reasons to give up my career. But slowly, that love had soured. Just as the thirty-year-old Jena had betrayed the twenty-year-old me. But when did it all change? Was it after my third miscarriage, when he brought a young woman named Ava home, introducing her as the sister of the man who had died saving him? A man who hadn’t saved him at all, but one of his close friends. With that as his excuse, he began a flirtatious, ambiguous relationship with her, and the thirty-year-old Jena was expected to just accept it. “What a joke,” I muttered, my fingers scrolling uncontrollably through the phone. My bank account balance was pitifully low; Curtis only gave me a basic living allowance. The chat history with my parents was filled with their requests for money. But what shocked me the most was the memo app, filled with pathetic little notes: “Remember Curtis hates cilantro.” “Pick up suit from dry cleaner’s.” “Mother-in-law’s birthday, prepare gift.” … Smack! I slammed my hand against the mirror. A web of cracks radiated from the point of impact, shattering the reflection of the thirty-year-old Jena into a thousand pieces. In every shard, the twenty-year-old me glared back in fury. “How could you let yourself become this?” The tears finally broke free. At twenty, I had sworn in my diary to become one of the world’s greatest architects and photographers. And now? My camera was collecting dust, my dreams were molding in a dark corner, and my self-respect was being trampled under Curtis’s feet. The thirty-year-old me had become the very person I had always despised. My heart ached for her, but I hated her even more for betraying all my hard work, all my ambition. This was not the life I was meant to live. 3 After pulling myself together, I started organizing. One pile of documents for the divorce lawyer, another for reviving my dreams. My phone screen lit up. A message from Ava. “Mrs. Thorne, looks like your husband loves me more. I win.” The twenty-year-old me had no use for the title “Mrs. Thorne.” I was all thorns and sharp edges. I would never tolerate such a provocation. I would return it, doubled. I took a screenshot and sent it directly to Curtis’s work group chat. The twenty-year-old me didn’t care about propriety. I didn’t care about consequences. I just did what I felt I had to do. As expected, the group chat exploded. The notification sounds chimed relentlessly. I watched the screen with cold eyes as new messages popped up one after another: “What’s… going on?” “Has Ms. Vance lost her mind?” “Maybe we shouldn’t get involved in Mr. Thorne’s private affairs…” Every message was hesitant, dripping with shock and gossip, but no one dared to say anything outright, all too afraid of Curtis. A few brave souls sent a facepalm emoji, then quickly retracted it. Suddenly, my phone began to vibrate violently. The name “Curtis Thorne” glared from the screen. I held down the power button and shut it off. The world went silent. Ten years ago, when Curtis was pursuing me, he would have done anything I asked. But now, he had ways of getting what he wanted. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before my mother showed up at the door. 4 “Jena, did you have a fight with Curtis?” I ignored her. The thirty-year-old me might have made peace with this woman, but the twenty-year-old me hadn’t. My mother frowned. “Listen to me. No matter what happened, you need to apologize to Curtis first.” I looked at her, my voice arctic. “What’s the matter? Afraid he’ll stop giving you money?” The color drained from her face. Her fingers nervously twisted the strap of her handbag. “How can you talk to your mother like that? I’m only trying to help you…” “Help me?” I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Is that what you said when you and Dad divorced and dumped me at my uncle’s house?” The memories flooded back, a suffocating tide. When my parents divorced, my mother, out of love, took my older sister. My father took my younger brother, his heir. I was five years old, and I was a burden. I clung to their clothes, but they pushed me away without a second thought. “We can only take one each. We’re sorry. But don’t worry, as soon as we’re back on our feet, we’ll come for you.” I waited from the age of five until I was an adult. They never came. My sister’s words were cruel. “Jena, you’re just like your name. A wild thing nobody wants.” My brother echoed her. “Yeah, you’re as common as a weed. You’re just extra.” My childhood was filled with the harsh face of my aunt. “You useless freeloader, eating our food. Your own parents don’t want you. Why don’t you just go die?” My cousin would rip up my homework. I had to wash the whole family’s clothes in the freezing winter, my hands covered in chilblains. Back then, I envied my sister and brother. They were with our parents, eating what they wanted, getting what they wanted. I endured endless hunger. I had parents, a sister, a brother, but it was as if they were all dead. “Things were tough back then,” my mother’s voice trailed off. “I couldn’t support two children on my own.” “Tough?” I shot up from my seat. “Then where did the money for my sister’s study abroad program come from? Who bought my brother’s car? When I was at my uncle’s, so poor I couldn’t even afford sanitary pads, where were you?” Tears welled up in my mother’s eyes. “Your sister is having a hard time now. Her husband’s business failed…” “What does that have to do with me?” Her marriage failed? What about the thirty-year-old me? Was I supposed to sacrifice my dignity for this hollow semblance of family? I grabbed her purse and hurled it at the door. “Get out!” The contents spilled across the floor. A few receipts for designer handbags caught my eye. I picked one up. It was from the day before. They didn’t want me back. They just wanted my rich husband’s money to satisfy their own greed. My mother scrambled to grab the receipts. “No, that’s not…” she stammered. “Jena, Mom will make it up to you in the future.” “Take your things and get out.” The five-year-old Jena, digging through trash cans, needed a mother’s love. The twenty-year-old me had long since outgrown that need. I knew the only person who could save me was myself. Never anyone else. I tore the receipts to shreds. “From now on, whether you live or die has nothing to do with me.” Less than half an hour after my mother left, my father called. I stared at the word “Father” flashing on the screen, a knot tightening in my stomach. “Honey, your brother’s getting married. We’re still short 800,000 for the bride price…” I laughed out loud. “What? Your precious son can’t afford a wife?” “What kind of attitude is that!” he yelled. “Curtis Thorne is loaded. 800,000 is nothing to him.” “If he can’t even afford the bride price, maybe he doesn’t deserve to carry on the family name. If he’s destined to be the end of the line, why force it?” I hung up and blocked his number. The world was quiet, but the war between the twenty-year-old me and the thirty-year-old Jena raged on. I had worked so hard, pushed myself so relentlessly, never bowing my head to anyone, all to escape this life and build a better one. And the thirty-year-old her had sunk right back into the mire. How could you betray all those years of my effort? Marriage hadn’t been my salvation. It was a cage, more suffocating than the one I had escaped.

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I’m not into men. I’m into ghosts. My friends think I’m insane. “Ghosts aren’t real,” they say. But then I moved into my new apartment. And I met him. He was lounging in my bathtub, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “You seem to like me an awful lot,” he purred. “So… want to try it with a ghost?” The thing that pressed into me was bone-chillingly cold, but I clung to it, refusing to let go. In this world, only a ghost could awaken my most primal desires… 1 The first thing I did when I got home from work was light a stick of ritual incense in the small, empty room I kept just for this purpose. A silent invitation. A desperate hope of attracting a male spirit. It’s a habit I’ve maintained for nearly a decade. My friends can’t stand it. They never visit. They plead with me to stop chasing fantasies and find a proper boyfriend. But I have absolutely no interest in ordinary men. I crave something cold, something ethereal and damp with the scent of the grave. Only a ghost can stir the deepest, most primitive desires of my soul. And tonight, on this otherwise unremarkable evening, it seemed my wish had finally come true. I was soaking in the bathtub, the water steaming around me. One moment, my mind was clear; the next, a strange, heavy dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred. I shook my head, a spike of panic rising. Was I running out of oxygen? I struggled to sit up, my limbs feeling like lead. That’s when I felt it. An icy touch against my throat. Through the swirling mist, a strange man materialized before me. He wore a long, black robe, cinched at the waist with a simple sash. The collar hung open, revealing a wide expanse of chest so pale it seemed inhuman. His hair and eyes were a stark, ink-black, and his lips were colorless, as if drained of all blood. Strands of long hair drifted around his face, moving as if stirred by an unseen wind. I forced my mouth open, my own voice a strained whisper. “Who… are you?” A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. He lifted a finger and drew two words in the air. Steven. The spectral letters shimmered for a few seconds before dissolving into droplets that vanished into the bathwater. I was stunned into silence, my mind reeling. In his right hand, he toyed with a small wooden talisman. My talisman. The one I kept in the summoning room. He’d appeared out of thin air in my bathroom. His otherworldly appearance, the floating words, and the fact that he was holding my summoning charm… No human could do these things. The realization hit me like a lightning strike. A violent tremor ran through my body, not of fear, but of pure, ecstatic excitement. A wide, uncontrollable grin spread across my face. “You’re… you’re a ghost.” “Clever girl,” he murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic whisper. “So…” His fingers began to trace a slow, cold path down my throat. “Want to try it with a ghost?” The icy sensation traveled downwards, over my collarbone, across the curve of my breast, past my stomach, and continued its descent. From the moment I knew what he was, my heart had been hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. A desperate, burning need ignited within me, a wildfire of pure lust. This was what I had prayed for, yearned for, for a decade. He was everything I had ever imagined. The cold aura, the damp, grave-like scent clinging to him… The sight of him alone was enough to make me lose control. My breath came in ragged gasps. I cursed my weak, trembling body. If I’d had any strength, I would have pounced on him already. With a final surge of effort, I reached forward, grabbed the lapels of his robe, and pulled him down. “I do.” 2 Steven let out a soft ‘tsk’. “So impatient.” The next thing I knew, he’d lifted me from the water as if I weighed nothing and set me down on the cool marble of the bathroom counter. His hands were colder than the ceramic sink, and everywhere he touched, my skin felt as if it had been pressed against ice. But this strange, alien sensation only fanned the flames of my desire higher. Steven let his robe fall open, revealing the landscape beneath. My breath hitched, and tears of pure, physiological arousal pricked my eyes. He took my right hand and pressed it where it belonged. “Cold? Are you scared?” I shook my head frantically. Scared? How could I be scared? I wanted to pin him to the floor and explore every inch of him. He saw the raw hunger in my eyes and a pleased smile graced his pale lips. He wrapped his hands around my waist and effortlessly turned me around, so I was no longer facing him, but the mirror. He embraced me from behind, his long, slender fingers tilting my chin up. “Look at yourself,” he whispered, his voice a silken temptation. I saw my reflection in the mirror—flushed, wanton, completely undone. “Please…” I begged. Steven chuckled, his chest pressing hard against my back. But the moment our bodies made full contact, a piercing scream of agony erupted right beside my ear. “Aaargh!” The cold presence behind me vanished. Stunned, I whirled around. Steven was gone. The bathroom was empty, save for me. It was as if he’d never been there, just a fever dream born of steam and longing. But then I saw it—a faint, reddish mark on my collarbone, the ghost of a bite. And I noticed something else. A faint golden light was pulsing from my left wrist. I lifted my hand and stared at the simple red cord tied around it. My best friend, Sara, had given it to me a few days ago. It looked like a cheap, ordinary trinket. She must have enchanted it without telling me. Sara had always been fascinated by esoteric arts, spells, and charms. It was just like her. I never imagined her little protection spell would end up hurting Steven. Frustrated, I ripped the red cord from my wrist and threw it on the floor. 3 After that night, I spent hours online, researching every summoning ritual that seemed even remotely plausible. But Steven never appeared. His brief, electrifying visit had only solidified my obsession. I had to have him back. “Kayla? Kayla…?” “Huh?” I snapped back to reality to find Sara standing in front of my desk. After college, we’d been lucky enough to land jobs at the same company, though in different departments. She looked at me with concern. “Kayla, what’s up with you lately? You seem a million miles away.” “Oh,” I forced a smile. “It’s nothing. Just not used to my new mattress. Haven’t been sleeping well.” Sara pinched my cheek gently and pulled a small packet from her pocket. “These ginseng slices are great. My mom sent them from back home. You can make tea with them. Good for your energy.” We’d been friends for too long to stand on ceremony. I took them with a grateful nod. I dropped a few slices into my thermos and headed to the breakroom to get some hot water. As the water filled the cup, it happened again—that familiar, heavy wave of dizziness. My head swam, and my limbs felt weak and useless. I braced myself against the counter to keep from falling, reaching out a trembling hand to turn off the tap. But another hand, appearing from nowhere, beat me to it. My heart leaped with joy. I looked up. “You finally came back.” Steven stood there, wearing the same style of robe as before, only this time it was white. His skin was even paler than the fabric, a shade no living person could possess. He glanced at my wrist, noting it was bare. In a flash, he closed the distance between us, his cold hands clamping onto my waist, his thumbs stroking my skin in slow, deliberate circles. His voice was a low, petulant murmur. “If I weren’t as powerful as I am, that little trinket of yours would have torn my soul to shreds.” Guilt washed over me. I was speechless. “I’m sorry.” It truly had been an accident. If I’d known the red cord had protective properties, I would have sooner died than wear it in his presence. He pulled me into his arms, his lips brushing against my ear. “Is a verbal apology all I get? You should show me you’re sorry… with your actions.” A tingling, electric sensation spread from my ear down my neck. It was only then that I remembered where I was. This was the office, not my home. I tried to pull away. “No… not here… my colleagues are right outside…” The breakroom door was always open. Anyone sitting nearby could see right in if they just looked up. As much as I craved him, I wasn’t ready to become an office legend. But Steven ignored my struggles. He dragged me into the small supply closet at the back of the room. “Don’t worry,” he purred. “They can’t see us in here.” He was right. People rarely came into this closet. My frantic heart began to slow, the panic giving way to a thrill of illicit excitement.

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My wife, Isabella, signed over half of her shares in the family company to an intern. An intern named Kevin. He wasted no time flaunting it on his private social media, a smug post for all our circle to see. “A huge thank you to my incredible boss for believing in me! Finally got my hands on some real equity. Muah~” The words hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t speak. My fingers fumbled as I dialed Isabella’s number. “You gave away your shares?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. Isabella’s tone was breezy, almost careless. “Oh, Joshua, Kevin isn’t just some random person. Think of it as a… performance incentive. Besides,” she added with a light laugh, “it’s just one company. We have plenty.” A cold fire began to burn in my gut. “You have ten minutes,” I said, enunciating each word with chilling precision. “Get those shares back.” She hung up on me. Three minutes later, every single supplier for Harrison Corp—her family’s empire—simultaneously terminated their contracts. If she enjoyed giving away companies so much, I didn’t mind helping her give the whole damn thing away. 1 With their entire supply chain in freefall, the Harrison family patriarch, old man Harrison himself, panicked. He arrived at my estate in his wheelchair, a rare and desperate visit. “Joshua,” he began, his voice raspy with age and anxiety, “did that foolish girl Isabella do something to upset you?” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Don’t you worry, my boy. I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget! If she’s not to your liking, I have ten other granddaughters. Pick one! Any one you like!” He gripped the arms of his wheelchair. “Just… don’t take it out on the company. An old man’s heart can’t take this kind of stress.” I calmly lifted a cup of coffee to my lips, letting the silence hang in the air before I spoke. “For a pretty boy, your granddaughter was willing to throw away a fortune. Half her stake in the company, gone, just like that.” I met his gaze. “Tell me, shouldn’t I be angry?” The old man’s face went rigid. His cane slammed against the marble floor with a sharp crack. “That spendthrift brat! How dare she! Joshua, you have my word. I’ll make her get those shares back this instant!” He left in a storm of fury. It wasn’t long before my phone started ringing. Isabella. I ignored it. Twenty more calls followed, one after another, until I finally blocked her number. Less than five minutes later, she burst through my front door, her face a twisted mask of rage. “Joshua Kensington! Have you lost your mind?” she shrieked. “It was a small piece of one company! Is that worth all this? Was it really necessary to get Grandpa to cut off my allowance? When did you become so… so vindictive?” I was genuinely surprised. Vindictive? This was the same woman who, not so long ago, had curled up in my arms, whispering shyly that she loved me. The transformation was staggering. I rolled a smooth, polished obsidian worry stone between my fingers, its coldness seeping into my skin, a welcome anchor in the storm of my anger. “Every share, every asset we own, is marital property, Isabella. You gave it away without my consent. Did you think of me at all?” I paused, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “You have ten minutes. Get the shares back, or I swear I will burn the entire Harrison empire to the ground with you in it.” Fear flickered in her eyes. She knew I wasn’t bluffing. “You’re a monster,” she muttered, but the fight had gone out of her. After a moment of tense calculation, she sighed. “Fine.” Her gaze fell, and a glint of silver shimmered at the corner of her eye. A tear. I knew the script. This was my cue to rush over, to hold her, to wipe away her tears and tell her everything would be okay. In the past, I would have. But now, I just turned my attention back to the documents on my desk. We’d been married a year, and she couldn’t even respect the most basic boundaries. She had earned my silence. The shares were transferred back quickly. Most of my anger subsided with their return. The rest of it vanished after I walked into her dressing room and systematically smashed every piece of her jewelry. The glittering graveyard of diamonds and pearls scattered across the floor was, in its own way, beautiful. I took a picture and sent it to her. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” She didn’t reply. She didn’t come home that night. I knew she was protesting, throwing a tantrum in her own way. But for the first time, I found that I no longer cared. 2 In an attempt to court new investors, the Kensington and Harrison families co-hosted a lavish business gala. It was a critical evening, the culmination of months of work. And Isabella, in her infinite wisdom, had put Kevin in charge of managing it. The result was an absolute catastrophe. The CEO of a major tech firm, a man I’d personally courted, was seated in the last row like an afterthought simply because he’d worn a designer shirt instead of a full suit. A venture capitalist who was prepared to pledge a fifty-percent stake in a new project was literally barred from entry by an overzealous security guard following Kevin’s muddled instructions. One by one, our most important guests walked out, their faces etched with disappointment and disgust. I couldn’t believe it. How could Isabella entrust such a vital event to a complete novice? I shut the gala down immediately and began the humiliating process of calling each slighted executive to offer my personal apologies. I was in my office, composing a message, when the door was kicked open with such force it slammed against the wall. Isabella stood there, her beautiful face contorted with fury. “Joshua, what the hell is wrong with you? How could you humiliate Kevin in front of everyone like that?” she screamed. “I know you have a problem with him, but to sabotage him publicly? You’re disgusting!” She stood there, in my office, in front of my staff, and trampled all over my authority. Her face was so full of venom, I couldn’t reconcile it with the woman I had married just a year ago. My assistant, hearing the commotion, rushed in, trying to gently steer Isabella away. Isabella shoved her back. “Get your hands off me,” she snarled. “Do you have any idea who I am? You don’t have the right to touch me.” I cleared my throat, a quiet sound that cut through her tirade. My assistant immediately stepped back. There was no need to lower myself to her level. “Who are you?” I asked coolly. “From the way you’re acting, I’d assume you were my enemy.” I leaned back in my chair. “You know Kevin’s capabilities. Do you honestly believe he was qualified for this job?” She was struck speechless, her mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. She just stared at me, cornered. “You,” I said, pointing a finger at my assistant. “Tell us. What exactly happened at the gala tonight?” As my assistant recounted the litany of failures—the insulted guests, the logistical nightmares, the catastrophic mismanagement—Isabella’s face grew darker and darker. Her eyes darted around the room, and her hands twisted the hem of her designer dress into a knot. But her pride was the last thing to die. “It was Kevin’s first time,” she insisted, her voice tight. “He’s inexperienced, yes, but he’s incredibly capable. This was a learning experience. He’ll know what to do next time.” Her naivete was so profound it was almost comical. I let out a short, bitter laugh. “A learning experience? Do you have any idea how much money, how much goodwill, you just lit on fire to ‘train’ him?” I stood up, my patience gone. “Get out. I don’t want to see you right now.” We had spent six months preparing for this night, and Kevin had demolished it in three hours. She stood there, her face pale, hesitating. Just then, Kevin himself appeared at the doorway. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he tugged pathetically at Isabella’s sleeve. “It’s all my fault,” he whimpered, a masterclass in feigned misery. “I’m always causing trouble for you, getting you dragged into things.” He looked up, his expression a perfect blend of vulnerability and defiance. “I know I’m not good enough. It’s okay. I’ll resign. I won’t make things difficult for you.” His performance was flawless. Anyone would have felt a pang of sympathy. Isabella’s features softened instantly. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her voice a gentle coo. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one will dare touch you.” She then shot me a look of pure hatred, as if I were the villain in this twisted little drama. A bitter taste filled my mouth. For a man she’d known less than three months, she was willing to declare war on her own husband. 3 To appease the furious investors, I had Kevin officially removed from all project management roles. Under immense pressure from her grandfather, Isabella relented. But her version of relenting was to immediately take Kevin to a high-end real estate office, determined to buy him a lavish gift as compensation. They toured the most expensive development in the city, the exclusive Riverside Estates. Kevin’s eyes glittered with greed as he walked through one opulent mansion after another. He finally stopped in front of a sprawling villa overlooking the river. He feigned a bashful reluctance. “Oh, Bella,” he said, using her pet name, “this villa is stunning. But… do I really deserve something like this? It’s so expensive. I don’t want you to spend so much on me.” For someone who claimed he didn’t deserve it, his feet seemed cemented to the ground. Isabella, glowing from his fawning, was about to wave her black card and buy the most luxurious property on the lot when the sales manager politely intervened. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Harrison, but this particular villa has already been reserved by Mr. Kensington.” “Reserved?” Kevin blurted out, his mask slipping for a second. “So what? I want this one today. I’d like to see who dares to try and take it from me.” “Is that so?” a cold voice cut in from behind them. “Then by all means, let’s see who dares to take what belongs to Joshua Kensington.” When Kevin saw me, his face fell. A flicker of pure malice crossed his features before he quickly rearranged them into a mask of tearful martyrdom for Isabella’s benefit. “Mr. Kensington is right,” he said, his voice trembling. “A person like me could never deserve a house like this. No matter how hard I work, I’m just a wage slave. We’re worlds apart, him and I.” He turned to Isabella, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Bella, please, don’t fight with him over me. I’ll let Mr. Kensington have the villa.” With just a few sentences, he’d painted me as the villain and himself as a magnanimous saint. Isabella, predictably, exploded. “We are all human! Why should you be treated as less than him?” she cried, rounding on me. “He works so hard, and you do nothing but persecute him! You heartless capitalist, you’re not worth a fraction of what he is!” Her face was a stranger’s now, her anger a weapon aimed directly at my heart. “You fought me over the shares, and now you’re fighting me over a damn house? For a man of your stature, you’re unbelievably petty, Joshua!” she spat. “You’re a greedy, grasping snake!” The irony was breathtaking. She was the one trying to take what was mine, yet she called me greedy. A thief crying foul. My voice was ice. “Whether it’s the company shares or this villa, I paid for them with my own money. They are not up for debate.” I took a step closer, my eyes locked on hers. “And don’t you forget, even that black card in your hand… I gave it to you.” The hand holding the card trembled. Her chest heaved with suppressed fury. Her resentment for me was a palpable thing in the room. But whatever affection I once had for her had curdled into something cold and hard. When we married, her eyes shone like stars. She’d told me I had shown her a world she’d never known and that she would love me forever. Her sincerity had moved me, and I had poured everything into our marriage—my support, my resources, my connections. I had single-handedly elevated the Harrison family into the upper echelons of society. I loved her, so I gave without expecting anything in return. I never imagined I was just nurturing a viper in my own home. 4 Isabella didn’t get the villa. That was the final straw. She didn’t move out—that would have been too much for her grandfather to bear—but she moved into the guest wing of the house. Our war was now cold and silent. We lived under the same roof, ate at the same table, and worked in the same world, but we never spoke a single word. One morning at breakfast, her phone rang. It was Kevin. His voice was choked with sobs. “Bella, please, you have to help me,” he cried. “I don’t know what to do! My life is over!” Isabella’s entire demeanor softened. “Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed. “Tell me what happened.” “I don’t know what Mr. Kensington told your grandfather,” Kevin wept, “but the old man just had me fired. And Mr. Kensington… he put the word out. He told everyone that if any company hires me, they’ll be making an enemy of him. I’m blacklisted, Bella. The entire industry has shut me out.” His voice broke. “Please, talk to him. Ask him to let me go. I’m just a nobody. Beg him to give me a chance to survive!” Isabella’s brow furrowed, her face turning as black as thunder. “Don’t you worry,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “I’m here. Let’s see who dares to fire you.” She slammed the phone down and whirled on me, grabbing the collar of my shirt. Her eyes were bloodshot with rage. “Have you gone too far? Are you trying to utterly destroy him?” she hissed. “He’s just a young man from a poor background, trying to make something of himself! He’s hardworking, dedicated, and you won’t even leave him a path to live? And running to Grandpa to tattle? How childish can you be?” Her fury washed over me, a scorching heat that threatened to consume everything. I ripped her hands away. “Isabella,” I said, my voice tight with restraint, “I have warned you again and again. You keep pushing my limits. Don’t blame me for what happens next.” My eyes were cold steel. “I am a man of my word. If I do something, I admit it. But I will not have you or anyone else pin their filth on me.” She stared at me, her eyes filled with disbelief. It was clear she didn’t believe a word I said. We were locked in a stalemate, the silence crackling with unspoken accusations. Finally, her face crumpled with a look of profound disappointment. She gave me one last, long look. “I was blind to ever marry a man like you,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. Then she turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The vast house fell silent. My heart felt like it was being slowly fried in oil. I, Joshua Kensington, had built an empire, but my own marriage was a wasteland. Isabella went straight to her family’s home and had a screaming match with her grandfather. The old man was so incensed he collapsed and was rushed to the ICU. Even with her grandfather in the hospital, she doubled down, insisting that Kevin be reinstated at Harrison Corp. She began to flaunt their relationship, taking him to every event, showering him with attention. In no time, Kevin became a fixture in our social circle, the subject of hushed whispers and knowing glances. Everyone assumed they were having an affair. Isabella made no effort to deny it. On the contrary, she started taking him on “business trips,” traveling the country on the company dime. They only ever booked one hotel room. I later heard that her expense reports even included receipts for several boxes of condoms. When that news reached me, a chilling cold spread through my entire body. It was the final, definitive proof. The girl who had sworn to love me forever was gone. And if that was the case, she could expect no mercy from me. Isabella, you chose to betray me. Now, you will pay the price.

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