1 Doug had promised to take me to Iceland. Flights and hotels were booked, but a late-night call changed everything. He unpacked his winter gear, replacing it with light windbreakers. “Audrey needs Key West to clear her head,” he said flatly. “We’ll see the lights another time.” The next day, Audrey sent a taunting voice note. “Doug said Iceland was too cold for you. We’re having the best time here.” Her laughter grated as I sat alone, staring at the two divorce agreements on the table. He had signed them on our wedding day, three years ago. I had called him paranoid then. Now, I uncapped my pen. I dialed his number, waiting through endless rings. “Have fun,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m signing the papers.” Silence stretched for three seconds. Over the ocean breeze, Audrey’s playful voice called to him. Doug just sighed. “Bridgit, stop throwing a tantrum.” He forgot I never feared the cold. I only feared lacking resolve. Five minutes after I emailed him a scan of the signed papers, my phone lit up with his call. I declined it. It rang again. This time, I swiped to answer but remained silent. “What is the meaning of this?” His voice was tightly controlled, strained against the background noise of crashing waves and Audrey’s distant laughter. “Exactly what it looks like.” “Bridgit,” he muttered, grit in his tone, “don’t force me to have an argument with you in front of other people.” “You are already in Key West, Doug. You promised me Iceland. For three years, we’ve pushed this trip back. And you didn’t even bother to ask me before you let Audrey’s phone call ruin our plans.” There was a heavy pause on his end. “Her depression flared up again. The doctor recommended a change of scenery. She is a lifelong friend, Bridgit, I couldn’t just abandon her.” “I am your wife.” “Can you please be reasonable for once? She didn’t mean any harm. She even sent you a voice note because she was terrified you would misunderstand.” “She sent me a voice note to gloat that you thought I was too fragile for the cold, and you think she was doing me a favor?” He didn’t answer. The sound of the tide rushed through the speaker. Audrey’s voice floated over, closer this time. “Doug, look at this shell! It’s so beautiful, can you take a photo of me with it?” “Bridgit, we will talk when I get back,” Doug said, his tone softening slightly. “Keep the papers safe. Don’t do anything reckless.” “I am not being reckless. Three years ago, when you signed those papers, you told me I could walk away whenever I wanted. I thought it was a joke back then. Now I realize you were just building yourself an exit.” The silence on the line stretched out. “Bridgit, is there anything I can do that will actually satisfy you?” “What have you actually done?” He was entirely silenced. Audrey’s voice came closer, practically pressing against the microphone. “Doug, the ice cream is going to melt. Oh, is Bridgit on the line? Bridgit, I am so sorry! Am I interrupting you guys?” I didn’t bother to reply. I hung up. Doug booked the earliest flight back to Chicago the following morning. The door code hadn’t changed, and he let himself in. I was sitting on the sofa, sorting through some work documents. He threw his suitcase by the foyer, walked over, and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. The screen showed a photo of the two of them smiling by the Florida coastline. “I deleted them,” he said, sitting down opposite me. “You can have whatever compensation you want. Just stop talking about divorce.” “I don’t want anything from you.” He stared at me, his eyes dark. “Then tell me, what makes you think I don’t love you? I bought you this townhouse, the designer bags, and whenever your family needed help, wasn’t I always the first one there? Bridgit, have some decency.” “Is that what love is to you?” “Then tell me what it is.” “Keeping your promises,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “And not putting me behind Audrey at every turn. Three years, Doug. This is the third time.” “The first time, you said she was heartbroken and needed a companion to travel. The second time, she had a minor family crisis and you rushed to her side. Now, it’s her mental health. What will it be next time? Will you even bother to consult me, or will you just leave a note?” His Adam’s apple bobbed, but no words came out. “I want a divorce,” I said, standing up. “This isn’t a threat to get your attention. It’s just that after three years, I can finally see what the next thirty years of my life would look like with you.” “You talk as if it’s so easy. How are you going to manage on your own? The house, the car…” “The agreement states the townhouse goes to me, you keep the car, and we split our savings down the middle. Did you even bother to read it?” “No,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I didn’t want to. Bridgit, do you really want to leave me this badly?” “You were the one who let go first.” He stood up, reaching his hand out as if to touch my shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” I said, taking a step back. At that moment, his phone buzzed. A message from Audrey flashed on the screen before he could grab it. Did you make it home safe, Doug? The sunset here is stunning, but it feels so empty without you. Doug slammed the phone face down. “Why does she still have your personal number?” I asked. He remained silent. I looked at the copy of the unsigned agreement on the table. The version he had signed three years ago was already tucked safely in my purse. “Audrey stayed at our place last year, remember? You told me she had nowhere else to go, so I prepared the guest room. But when I was washing the sheets after she left, I found a black hair tie under her pillow. It wasn’t mine.” His face paled instantly. “You told me you were working late until midnight that night, but you actually came home at ten. I was in the bedroom, and I heard the two of you talking in the living room. She told you she still loved you. And you told her you knew.” He parted his lips, but no sound came. “And do you know why I didn’t say anything?” I let out a soft, tired laugh. “Because the very next day, I found a receipt in your coat pocket for a designer jewelry box. You bought it for her birthday.” “It was just a birthday gift…” “You remembered her birthday perfectly. But you forgot mine twice.” He fell completely silent, his hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists at his sides. “The papers are on the table. Sign them and send them back to me by the end of the day.” I picked up my bag and walked toward the door. “Bridgit!” he called out behind me. I paused but didn’t turn around. “I really…” “Don’t tell me you love me,” I said, turning the doorknob. “You only love the security of having someone waiting for you at home. It was never about me.” The door clicked shut behind me. As I waited by the elevator, I heard the faint, heavy thud of something being thrown against the wall inside the apartment. I didn’t stop. I pressed the down button. My phone vibrated with another voice note from Audrey. I deleted the chat history without opening it. When the elevator doors opened, a text from Doug popped up on my screen. Three words. I agree. That evening, he sent a follow-up message asking when we should finalize the paperwork at the courthouse. Tomorrow, I replied. Fine, he wrote back. When I arrived at City Hall the next morning, he was already there, leaning against his car and smoking. There were several crushed filters by his shoes. He stubbed out his cigarette when he saw me walk up. “Let’s get this over with.” The process was quicker than he had anticipated. The clerk stamped our documents, handed us our respective copies, and murmured a flat, rehearsed congratulations before moving on to the next file. Outside the grand stone steps, Doug stopped. “Do you have a place to stay?” “Yes.” “Do you need money?” “No.” He stared at me, his jaw set in a hard line. “Did Audrey tell you we were getting a divorce?” “She has nothing to do with this.” “She called me last night,” I said, wrapping my wool scarf tighter around my neck. “She congratulated me on my freedom and promised she would take excellent care of you.” His expression twisted into something akin to horror. “She said that to you?” “Yes.” “There is nothing between us, Bridgit. I swear.” “Well, now there can be. You’re single.” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His phone began to ring. He glanced at the screen and immediately declined the call. “Answer it,” I said quietly. “I am not your wife anymore.” He didn’t pick up, shoving the phone deep into his pocket. “Let me drive you home.” “No need.” I turned toward the subway entrance. He took two steps to follow me, then stopped. The Chicago wind was brutal, stinging my eyes, but I didn’t look back. On the day I moved my things out, Doug sent a moving company to assist. He didn’t show up himself, sending his assistant, Toby, instead. Once the truck was loaded, Toby stood near the door, looking highly uncomfortable. “Mr. Vance asked me to let you know that you can keep the downtown apartment. The deed will be transferred to your name in a few days.” “There’s no need. The agreement gave me the townhouse, which is more than enough. Tell him I don’t want it.” “But Mr. Vance said…” “Whatever he told you to say, don’t. Just head back, Toby.” Toby nodded quietly and left. The downtown apartment was a place Doug had purchased before our marriage. He had intended it for his parents, but they preferred their quiet life upstate, so the place had remained empty. As I was sorting through my things, I found a cardboard box with yellowed tape that read Bridgit’s College Keepsakes. Inside were dozens of love letters he had written to me during our university days, tied together with a simple rubber band. The first one was from our freshman year, describing how he had fallen for me after watching me feed a stray cat near the library. I let out a soft laugh, refolding the paper carefully before putting it back. At the bottom of the box was a cheap silver ring we had bought from a street vendor for ten dollars. During our sophomore year, he had saved up for months to buy an expensive diamond ring to propose, but I had insisted he return it because we couldn’t afford it. He had bought the silver band as a placeholder. “Just use this for now,” he had murmured, slipping it onto my ring finger. “When I make it big, I’ll buy you the biggest diamond in the city.” He did make it big, eventually. But the silver ring had long since been relegated to the back of a drawer. My phone rang. An unrecognized number. I picked up, and Audrey’s sweet, dripping voice filled my ear. “Bridgit? Do you have a minute?” “Speak.” “Doug hasn’t been doing well these past few days. He’s been drinking constantly, and he won’t listen to me. After all, you two were married. Don’t you think you should…” “His drinking habits are no longer my concern.” “How can you be so cold-blooded?” she gasped. “Cold-blooded?” I let out a sharp laugh. “He was married to me for three years, and you hovered over our marriage the entire time. And now you call me cold-blooded?” “I never tried to get between you! We are just friends! Why is your mind always so twisted?” “Then explain Key West.” “He came because he wanted to! I didn’t force him. Besides, he only changed the destination because he was worried you’d freeze in Iceland. Why can’t you see he was trying to protect you?” “Audrey.” “What?” “Who pays the rent for your apartment?” The line went silent. “Last October, you told me you had nowhere to go, and Doug had you stay at our place for three days. After you left, he rented an apartment for you right downstairs in our building. Do you remember that?” Her breathing grew ragged. “I ran into you in the lobby on the day you moved in, wheeling your pink suitcase. You smiled and said what a coincidence it was. I didn’t call you out then because I wanted to see if Doug would be honest with me.” “And did he?” “He never said a word. But I checked his bank statements. He paid your rent every single month for a year.” “He was just pitying me…” “Then you should call him right now and tell him to stop drinking. I’m sure he’ll listen to you.” “Bridgit, you’re just jealous! You hate that he treats anyone else with kindness!” “Yes, I was jealous. But now we are divorced, so you should be thrilled.” She didn’t reply. I hung up. That evening, I received a text from Doug. Audrey called me. What did you say to her? I didn’t answer. Another text followed: She was hysterical, claiming you were bullying her. I typed out three words: Go comfort her. The message marked as read, but he didn’t respond. At two in the morning, my doorbell rang. Through the security camera, I saw Doug leaning heavily against the doorframe, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, smelling strongly of alcohol. I opened the door. He stared at me, his lips trembling before he managed to speak. “Bridgit… I made a mistake.” He leaned toward me the moment the door opened, his scent of whiskey and stale smoke making me turn my face away. “Stand up straight.” He stumbled, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself. “Bridgit, listen to me…” “I’m listening.” “I was wrong.” “About what?” He frowned, trying to find the words, but his mind was too clouded. “If you don’t even know what you did wrong, why are you here apologizing?” “I shouldn’t have gone to Key West. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I shouldn’t have let her move into the building, and I shouldn’t have lied about the rent…” “And?” “And what?” “You texted me last night accusing me of bullying her. Doug, you came to defend your little friend, and now that you’re drunk, you come here to beg for forgiveness? Do you have a split personality?” He parted his lips, his face turning pale as the alcohol took its toll. “I didn’t mean it like that… I was just drunk…” “Then come back when you’re sober.” I tried to step back to close the door, but he lunged forward, jamming his foot into the doorframe. “Bridgit, please don’t close the door.” “Move your foot.” “No.” I pushed the door hard, and he let out a sharp grunt of pain, but his foot remained firmly in place. “Are you out of your mind?” “Probably,” he whispered, his eyes red and swimming with tears. “I was out of my mind to sign those papers. I went to the building manager today. You returned the keys to the downtown apartment. You won’t live in the townhouse I bought, and you’re transferring money to my account every month to cover your half of the mortgage. You’re cutting me out so cleanly, Bridgit. Did you plan this all along?” “I am paying my half because the agreement gave me the townhouse. I pay my own bills.” “Then why won’t you live in the downtown apartment?” “Because it belongs to you.” “Is it really mine? I transferred it to you, don’t you get it?” “I don’t want it.” He stared at me for a long time before letting out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh that made his shoulders shake. “You always told me you hated receiving gifts because they felt like an obligation. When I bought you those designer bags and jewelry, you kept them, so I thought you had changed. But you hadn’t. You only accepted them to keep me at a distance, so you could calculate exactly what you owed me when you left.” “You’re overthinking it.” “Am I?” He pointed a finger at his own chest. “I am standing here like an idiot, begging you not to shut me out. Just give me one honest answer, Bridgit. Do you still love me?” “No.” He fell completely still. His foot slowly slid out of the doorframe, and he took a step back, his hand still resting weakly against the wood. “Say that again.” “I don’t love you anymore.” He stared at me, blinking rapidly as a single tear escaped his right eye. He quickly wiped it away. “Fine.” He nodded slowly. “Fine.” He turned toward the elevator, but after a few paces, he stopped, his back still turned to me. “I left the keys to the downtown apartment on your shoe rack. Whether you live there or not is up to you. But it’s yours.” The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside. Before the doors closed, he muttered, “I made Audrey move out of the building. Believe me or don’t. It’s up to you.” The elevator began its descent, the floor numbers ticking down. I closed the door and locked it. Sure enough, a silver key lay on the shoe rack, attached to a leather strap with a small, ugly rabbit keychain. I had won that cheap little rabbit at a carnival game during our sophomore year. He had told me it was too ugly to keep, but I had snapped it onto his keyring anyway, telling him he had to carry it every day. Through all the cars and houses he had bought over the years, that ugly little rabbit had remained on his keyring. I picked it up, stared at it for a moment, and placed it in a drawer. My phone buzzed. It was a photo from Doug. Audrey’s pink suitcase was sitting on the pavement outside the building entrance, next to two large cardboard boxes. A second message followed: She’s gone. Her rent is paid through next spring, but after that, she’s on her own. I didn’t reply. I washed up and went to bed, but my phone vibrated again. Did you throw away the silver ring? Which ring? The ten-dollar one? No. You told me you’d only take it off if I stopped wanting you. Do you remember that? I remember. But I never stopped wanting you… You only ever came back when I threatened to leave, Doug. The message marked as read, but no reply came. Ten minutes later, another text arrived. I’m flying to Iceland tomorrow. I stared at the screen for several seconds. Alone? Yes. You hate the cold. Didn’t you say you weren’t afraid of it? I’m still not. Then I’ll take photos of the lights for you. Don’t bother. He sent a location link. He was at the airport lounge. It was 4:30 AM. I booked the ticket tonight. I wanted us to go together. You can always take someone else. There is no one else, Bridgit. Not since you closed that door. I turned off my phone and rolled over. Outside, the sweep of a car’s headlights cut across my ceiling before vanishing into the dark. The next morning, I opened my phone to find three messages from him. The first was a photo of his boarding gate at 5:30 AM. The second was a shot through the airplane window, showing a gray, overcast sky. The third was a paragraph of text: We’re taking off. You always claimed you weren’t afraid of the cold, but I remember how you used to bundle yourself up like a giant ball every winter. You told me you only pretended to be cold so I would hold your hands. Was that a lie too? I typed a response, then deleted it. In the end, I only wrote: Safe travels. There was no further reply. That afternoon, I went to the supermarket. As I wheeled my cart through the seafood section, I saw the fresh salmon and remembered the first time he had tried to cook for me. He had burned the fish black but insisted it was a special blackened Cajun style. We had been fresh out of college, living in a cramped, drafty studio with a greasy kitchen, and he had been running around in my floral apron. I reached for a pack of salmon, then slowly put it back. My phone buzzed. A message sent from thirty thousand feet. The flight attendant asked what I wanted to drink. I asked for warm milk. You always said my stomach was too sensitive for iced drinks. I remembered. You remember everything I said, but what’s the point now? The point is that every night before I sleep, I replay everything I did wrong, planning how to fix it tomorrow. And did you fix it? I fixed it. But by the time I did, everything was already ruined. I didn’t write back. A thunderstorm hit the city that night. The wind howled through the half-open balcony door, sending the papers on my coffee table scattering across the floor. As I gathered them, my eyes fell on the copy of our divorce agreement, specifically his signature. His name, Doug Vance, was written in large, forceful strokes, the final line of his surname dragging out unusually long, the ink slightly smudged. I remembered why he always signed his name that way. During our senior year, he had complained about how tedious his signature was. I had suggested he shorten it, but he had refused. “No way,” he had said, smiling. “Everything I write for you has to be complete. I drag the final stroke out so my name can linger on the page a little longer.” I had called him overly dramatic back then. He had laughed, telling me it was about the art of the gesture. The doorbell rang, cutting through my thoughts. I checked the security feed, but the hallway was empty. When I opened the door, a thermal delivery bag was sitting on the welcome mat. Inside was a container of warm pumpkin porridge, with a sticky note attached. Warm pumpkin porridge. You always said it helped when your stomach was acting up. I made it myself. Eat it while it’s hot. The handwriting was unmistakably his. I looked down the long, empty corridor. I brought the bag inside. The porridge was perfectly smooth, though the pumpkin chunks were cut into uneven, awkward sizes, a clear sign of someone who didn’t know their way around a kitchen. I took a few spoonfuls, the heat stinging the tip of my tongue. Doug never knew how to simmer things properly. He had once burned a hole straight through one of our pots. My phone rang. An unfamiliar number. “Bridgit? This is Audrey’s mother.” “Hello.” “My daughter cried all night. She said you forced Doug to throw her out of her apartment. Let me ask you something, you two are divorced, so what right do you have to dictate where my daughter lives?” “I didn’t dictate anything. Doug paid her rent, and he was the one who told her to leave. If she has an issue, she should take it up with him.” “Don’t you dare hide behind Doug! My daughter’s relationship with him was entirely innocent! You’re just a bitter woman who wants to ruin everyone else’s life because yours fell apart!” “Ma’am, your daughter spent three years relying on a married man, living right beneath our noses while he paid her rent. If you call that innocent, we have very different definitions of the word.” “You…” “Tell her to ask Doug herself why he kicked her out. Goodbye, and take care.” I hung up and blocked the number. I finished the porridge, washed the container, and placed it back in the thermal bag before setting it outside my door. I snapped a photo of the empty bowl and sent it to him. The container is outside. He replied instantly. Was it good? You overcooked it. I’ll do better next time. There won’t be a next time. He sent back a meme, one I had made years ago of a cat holding a sign that read You are absolutely right. We used to bicker constantly during college, and I had created that meme to tease him whenever he lost an argument. He had kept it ever since. I stared at the screen for a long time, then turned the phone face down.

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1 Right before we sailed, Jackson unbuckled my life jacket himself. “Your sister’s right,” he said flatly. “Without a push, you’ll never surf like her.” He turned away, steadying Fiona on the yacht without a glance back. A massive swell dragged me under. Choking on saltwater, I saw Fiona above, filming my struggle while leaning into Jackson. He barely sighed. “Swim this thousand meters, Nora, and I’ll get you into the club!” For fifteen years, I’d played the obedient shadow. I hiked mountains in heels until I bled, dove into frozen ponds for Fiona’s earrings until I nearly died. I thought obedience bought belonging. I was wrong. I was just their toy. Another wave crushed me, and I stopped fighting. I sank. When they hauled me aboard, Fiona pouted. “Jackson was going to praise you. No stamina.” I shoved them back, coughing brine, and met their eyes with hollow calm. “From now on, I do nothing you ask.” That plunge into the ocean left me with a hundred and four degree fever and severe pneumonia. But Fiona wasn’t done having fun. So, my family abandoned the yacht and boarded a luxury cruise liner just to keep her happy, leaving me to curl up in a tiny cabin on the lower deck. Every single breath felt like broken glass scraping my lungs. Jackson didn’t come to check on me once. Instead, he just called. His voice on the line was colder than the sea. “Nora, haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum? Fiona is having heart palpitations because she was traumatized watching you drown. Even if you want attention, you don’t need to play the victim like this. Go apologize to her. If you do, I’ll overlook the attitude you gave us on the deck this afternoon.” I opened my mouth to speak, but my stomach violently churned. I hung up on him. To Jackson and Fiona, this was just me acting out. After all, they knew that if Jackson ignored me for a couple of days, I’d crawl back, begging for their approval. That evening, the cruise ship docked. Fiona suddenly got the urge to go night diving. But right after slipping into her wetsuit, she fainted on the deck. From the small porthole of my cabin, I watched Jackson sprint to her side. He scooped her up in his arms, his face pale with a raw, desperate panic I had never once seen him direct at me. I looked down at the simple band on my ring finger, the one bought for our upcoming engagement. Slowly, I slid it off. I tossed it straight out the window, watching it vanish into the dark, churning ocean. Jackson caught the movement. Through the glass, our eyes met, and his expression instantly darkened. Just then, my parents walked into my cabin carrying a cup of hot water. Seeing my flushed, feverish face, my mother’s eyes welled with tears. “Nora, sweetie, drink some water.” I took a single sip, but before the warmth could hit my stomach, a crew member rushed to the door. “Ma’am! The oldest daughter still hasn’t regained consciousness!” The concern on my mother’s face vanished instantly. She bolted upright, knocking the cup from my hands. The boiling water splashed over the back of my hand, leaving a painful, blistering red patch, but she didn’t even notice. She and my father practically ran over each other to get to Fiona’s luxury suite. The spilled water grew cold on the floor, just like my heart. Half an hour later, just as I was drifting into a feverish sleep, my mother returned. She had two staff members drag me to Fiona’s bedside. “Nora,” she whispered, her voice pleading. “Fiona isn’t waking up. The doctor says her chronic anemia is flaring up again. You have such a strong constitution. Let them take some blood for her.” I lay there, shivering violently. I wanted to scream that I had just been dragged from the sea, that my lungs were burning with pneumonia, but I didn’t even have the strength to stand. Before I could say a word, a thick needle pierced my vein. Jackson stood by the head of Fiona’s bed, holding her hand tightly. He didn’t look at me once. By the time they finished, the world was spinning. I had to lean against the cold metal walls of the corridor just to stumble back to my room. A buzz from my phone broke the silence. It was a text from Jackson: Good to see you have a conscience, Nora. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow morning. A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I was about to turn off my phone when a social media notification popped up. Fiona had just posted a photo. It was a shot of Jackson asleep, his head resting by her bedside, their fingers tightly intertwined. Her caption read: Even if the ocean lies ahead, as long as you’re by my side, I fear nothing. I stared at that photo for a long time, until my eyes burned and there were no tears left to cry. 2 The day we finally docked coincided with my twentieth birthday. For dinner that night, I put on a dress I had been saving for a special occasion. It was a gorgeous, deep blue piece patterned with stars and oceans, a gift Jackson had given me last month. I had just sat down when Jackson walked in with Fiona. Her eyes locked onto my dress instantly. Redness crept into her eyes, and her voice trembled with unshed tears. “That dress is so beautiful. Because of my anemia, I never got to go to parties growing up. I wish I could wear something that pretty just once.” Without a second thought, Jackson turned to me, his voice sharp and demanding. “Nora, go change out of that dress.” I stood frozen, my fingers clutching the fabric of the skirt. “Jackson, did you forget what today is?” He frowned, clearly annoyed by my questioning. “It doesn’t matter what day it is. What’s wrong with dressing down for once? My feelings for you don’t need to be proven by a piece of clothing.” My feelings for you. He had used that exact phrase to pressure me into giving up my scholarship spot for Fiona, and to force me to walk through a torrential downpour to buy her favorite cake. Now, he was using it to strip me of my birthday dress. I didn’t argue. I silently turned around, walked upstairs, and changed into a faded, washed out t-shirt. When I returned, the dining table was covered in platters of lobster and crab, all of Fiona’s favorite seafood. Everyone in the room knew I was severely allergic to shellfish. My mother lovingly placed a piece of crab meat into Fiona’s bowl, then looked at me with a soft, dismissive smile. “I know you’re allergic, Nora, but we’re celebrating your sister’s recovery today. I hope you don’t mind. Since it’s your birthday, I’ll have the maid whip up your favorite egg noodles later.” I sat at the edge of the table, a hollow laugh caught in my chest. I actually hated egg noodles. But my mother had never bothered to remember what I liked. For as long as I could remember, her mind only held Fiona’s preferences. Whenever she needed to appease me, she’d throw a bowl of plain noodles my way. Jackson blinked, realizing it was my birthday, but he quickly shrugged it off and dropped a piece of shrimp into my bowl. “You know, Nora, the only way to beat an allergy is exposure. You’re just being dramatic. Your sister literally overcame her fear of the water, and you can’t even eat a piece of shrimp?” I didn’t say a word. I picked up the shrimp and forced myself to swallow it. Within twenty minutes, hives erupted across my arms, and my chest began to tighten. Seeing my struggle, Fiona smirked and made an announcement. “I’ve decided to take Nora’s spot in the ocean rescue diving assessment! She’s too cowardly anyway. She’d only embarrass herself.” I snapped my head up, gasping for air. “I’ve spent two years training for this exam! You don’t even know the basics of diving, Fiona. Why are you doing this?” Before I could finish, Jackson cut me off. “Nora, your sister is finally showing an interest in something. Just let her have the slot. It’s just diving. If she struggles, I’ll personally train her.” I stared at Fiona’s smug grin. My mind flashed back to the last two years of waking up at dawn, pushing my body to the limit in empty pools, yet Jackson had never once offered to help me. I stood up, walked out of the room, and went to find my allergy medication. But when I came back down, I overheard Jackson on the phone with his assistant. “Modify Nora’s custom gear to fit Fiona,” Jackson was saying, his tone businesslike. “The carbon fiber, pressure resistant suit. It’s too late to order a new one, and with Fiona’s delicate health, I’ll only feel safe if she’s wearing the best. As for Nora, just swap hers with a standard rental set. She’s only going there for show anyway.” 3 I stood frozen in the hallway, listening to him casually strip away the safety gear that was meant to protect my life, all to give it to someone else. I pressed a hand over my mouth, laughing silently until tears ran down my fingers. Over the next few days, I kept up my training. I had to pass that deep dive assessment. It was my only ticket into the national marine rescue team. The day before the exam, I went to the study to retrieve my medical clearance forms. The door was slightly ajar, and a voice drifted out. Fiona was whining to our mother. “Mom, do you and Dad love Nora more? She’s so healthy and strong, while I’m just a fragile burden.” My mother sighed, her voice dripping with affection. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t talk like that. If she didn’t share your rare Rh negative blood type, why on earth would we have adopted her in the first place? It was all so we’d have a walking blood bank for you.” “We’ve raised her for over a decade, so of course there’s some basic pity there,” my mother continued. “But in our hearts, you are our only true child. She is just a backup reservoir. She could never compare to you.” A loud ringing filled my ears. My mind went entirely blank, cold dread pooling in my chest. All those years of begging for their love, of running myself ragged just to see them smile, and to them, I was nothing but a walking meat bag of blood. No wonder they rolled up my sleeves every time Fiona so much as coughed, ignoring my fevers, my illnesses, my exhaustion. I shook violently, tears spilling over my cheeks. As I turned to flee, I collided straight into Jackson. He took one look at my tear streaked face and scowled. “Nora, what is it now? It’s just a spot in a diving club. Is it really worth crying like someone died? We’re getting engaged next week. Can’t you grow up and be a little more understanding?” It hit me then with brutal clarity. In his eyes, everything I did was a childish tantrum. I ripped my arm out of his grasp, staring at the man I had loved in secret for a decade. “Jackson, did you ever actually love me?” My question only made him roll his eyes. “Nora, don’t suffocate me with this emotional nonsense.” He walked right past me, heading into the study. I watched his back recede, my eyes cold and clear. He didn’t know that I had already canceled the makeup artist and the dress fittings for our engagement. Since they had no use for me outside of my veins, I had no use for them either. A few days later came the day of the diving assessment, which was also the eve of my scheduled engagement to Jackson. Fiona, furious that I had refused to voluntarily withdraw from the test, lured me down to the lower deck of the family yacht under the pretense of returning my custom gear. Jackson, as always, had looked the other way. “Take some time to think about your attitude, Nora,” Fiona sneered from the other side of the heavy steel door. The lock clicked shut with a definitive snap. “I’ll let you out once the assessment is over.” The hold was pitch black, smelling of rust and heavy engine grease. In the past, I would have panicked, crying and begging them to open the door. But now, I simply found a dry corner and sat down. I pulled out my phone and opened my email inbox. There was a message waiting for me, an official invitation from the International Marine Rescue Federation. They were offering me a position on an active duty rescue crew in high risk international waters. If I accepted, I would be deployed immediately to their base off the coast of Somalia. For the next five years, I would be effectively off the grid. I stared at the flashing red confirmation button on the screen, and without a shred of hesitation, I tapped it. 4 By the time they let me out the next day, the exam was long over. They knew I had missed my chance to ever join the domestic diving league. Jackson walked up to me, reaching out to brush my cheek, but I flinched away. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Tomorrow is our engagement party, Nora. Behave yourself.” I kept quiet. He had no clue that tomorrow was also the day I boarded a one way flight out of the country. But back at the house, as I packed my bags, Fiona caught wind of something. She saw me sliding my passport and certifications into my backpack and assumed I was trying to sneak out for a makeup exam. Determined to keep her toy close, she walked to the top of the stairs, smashed a porcelain vase, and deliberately sliced her forearm open with a shard. “Ah! Blood!” Her scream threw the entire household into chaos. Outside the emergency room, my parents were frantic. My mother’s eyes were swollen from crying, and to my absolute shock, she fell to her knees right in front of me. “Nora! I’m begging you! Fiona lost too much blood, and the hospital’s rare stock is low. If you don’t save her, she’s going to die!” I looked down at her, feeling nothing but a deep, hollow exhaustion. Just days ago on that yacht, when I was burning up with a fever, they had used the exact same guilt trip to drain me. I took a step back, refusing her for the first time in my life. “I have something important tomorrow. I can’t give blood.” While the international rescue team didn’t require a physical exam on site, their pre deployment medical screening was incredibly strict. Heavy blood loss would red flag my chart immediately. Jackson lunged forward, grabbing my shoulder. “Nora! Do you even have a soul? That is your sister in there! If you don’t step up today, our engagement tomorrow is off!” He thought this threat would work, just like it had for the last ten years, that I would break down and beg him to stay. I looked at him one last time, gently but firmly removing his hand. I walked into the donor room on my own. I rolled up my sleeve and sat in the chair. “Take it,” I told the nurse. The thick needle slid into my vein, and dark red blood began to fill the plastic bag. By the time the bag hit six hundred milliliters, the nurse’s hand was shaking. “We have to stop! Any more and she’ll go into hypovolemic shock!” But outside the glass, Fiona was still whining about feeling faint. Jackson looked through the window, his voice cold and flat as he told the staff, “Keep drawing. She’s tough. She won’t die.” My body temperature plummeted, and suddenly, the heart monitor began to wail, signaling cardiovascular collapse. Doctors rushed in with epinephrine. Through the blur of my fading vision, I saw panic finally flash across Jackson’s face. I stared up at the harsh fluorescent lights, whispering in my mind: I’ve paid you back with my life. Now, keep your love. I don’t want it anymore. I woke up at three in the morning to an empty room. My parents and Jackson were all next door, celebrating Fiona’s recovery. Nobody remembered the daughter who had literally coded on the table to keep her sister breathing. I pulled the IV line from the back of my hand, slipped into my clothes, and walked out into the cold night. By the time my flight cleared the runway, heading toward East Africa, the sun was just beginning to rise. Two days went by. Jackson assumed I was just sulking and would crawl back to apologize like I always did. But when the hour of our engagement party arrived, my chair remained empty. Steaming with a week’s worth of suppressed anger, he drove to our house and kicked open the door to my attic room. He froze. The wardrobe was wide open, completely bare. The room was so sterile and clean it looked as though no one had ever lived there. On the wooden desk sat a neat stack of papers. Beside a pile of medical receipts for blood draws lay an official, notarized document dissolving my adoption, stamped with my ink pressed thumbprint. Jackson’s heart skipped a beat. The secret my parents had kept for twenty years; how long had I known? Panic finally clawed at his chest. He spun around, running out of the house, and dialed my number. But all he got was a cold, automated recording: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

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1 The property management app flashed a notification while I was in a company meeting. “Renovation permit submitted for Apartment 1702, Building 3, Riverbend Towers. Applicant: Marcus Chen, Relationship to Owner: Spouse.” I read it three times. Marcus Chen. Spouse. I flipped through my marriage certificate. It bore my name, Alexander Liu. That was my name. I stared at that message for a long time. Apartment 1702, Building 3, Riverbend Towers. It was a place I’d bought before marriage. Paid in full. Two hundred thousand dollars. My parents contributed one hundred and twenty thousand, and I saved eighty thousand. Only my name was on the deed. A prenuptial agreement was signed before the wedding. After we married, the apartment had been rented out, bringing in four hundred and fifty dollars a month, directly deposited into my account. Six months ago, the lease expired. Charlotte told me she’d found new tenants for me. “Don’t worry, the people I found are reliable, five hundred a month.” I was quite pleased at the time, an extra fifty dollars. But now— New tenants? Or “spouse” Marcus Chen? I excused myself from the meeting room, found an empty corner, and dialed the property management. “Hello, I’m the owner of Apartment 1702, Building 3, Riverbend Towers. I’d like to inquire about a renovation permit.” The property manager said: “Oh, Mr. Chen submitted it last week. All documents were in order, and work has begun.” “What identity did Mr. Chen claim?” “He said he was the owner’s husband, renovating their matrimonial home.” Matrimonial home. My apartment, his matrimonial home. “How long has the renovation been going on?” “Three months now. Almost finished.” Three months. My apartment had been renovated by a stranger for three months, and I knew nothing about it. I hung up the phone. My hand wasn’t shaking. My heart pounded, but my mind was perfectly clear. I opened my banking app, checking Charlotte’s credit card statements. We’d linked a supplementary card when we got married; I could see the transactions. I scrolled back three months. Home Décor Emporium, $1,860. Furniture Haven, $3,200. Premium Tiles Inc., $2,750. Bespoke Interiors, $8,900. Transaction after transaction. All for building materials and furniture. In three months, twenty thousand dollars spent on the credit card. I scrolled further. Every month, there was a fixed transfer of $500, recipient: Marcus Chen. This transfer had started a year ago. A year. Five hundred dollars every month. I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. Not anger. A very quiet coldness. Charlotte Thorne, my wife, was using my apartment to live with another man. She told me she’d found new tenants. The “tenant” was named Marcus Chen. She transferred him five hundred dollars every month. He was renovating my apartment, spending tens of thousands. To the property management, he claimed to be the “owner’s spouse.” I checked my contacts. Samuel ‘Sam’ Carter. My college roommate, now a divorce attorney. I sent him a message: “Free for dinner? My treat.” Three seconds later, he replied: “Your treat? Are you getting a divorce?” Lawyers’ instincts, sharp as ever. I didn’t reply. I needed to clarify one thing first. Who was Marcus Chen? 2 The name Marcus Chen felt familiar. I felt like I’d seen it somewhere. I searched Charlotte’s Messenger. It was password-protected. But I knew the password – her father’s birthday. Three years of marriage, she’d never changed it. I didn’t tap into it immediately. I first checked something else. I opened Instagram, searched “Riverbend Towers renovation.” The third post. Account name: “Marcus’s Cozy Corner.” The profile picture was a young man, perm-styled hair, slender face, fashionably dressed. The most recent post was yesterday. Title: “$50,000 to create my wife and my dream home renovation finally almost done!” Nine photos were attached. I scrolled through them, one by one. Full house hardwood flooring. Custom cabinetry. Central air conditioning. Smart toilet. Sintered stone dining table. The master bedroom had a floor-to-ceiling window. I recognized that window. Because it was my window. When I bought the apartment, I chose this layout specifically for that window. I screenshotted all nine photos. Then scrolled through his previous posts. Three months ago: “Day one of renovation, even the sound of demolition feels like happiness.” Two months ago: “Cabinets arrived! The style my wife chose, I’m in love.” A month ago: “Bathroom modified for wet and dry separation, that alone cost three thousand.” Each post had comments below it. “So happy! Your wife is so generous!” “Fifty thousand dollar renovation, what a splurge!” “Is this a new home? So spacious!” He replied: “Yes, my wife bought it before we got married, never renovated it. Now it’s finally coming together.” Wife bought it before marriage. I smiled. She told him the apartment was hers. Interesting. I scrolled further. To the earliest post. A year ago. “Moved into our new home today! It’s still a blank canvas, but with my wife, it’s home.” He had moved in a year ago. And Charlotte had told me she’d “found new tenants.” The tenant was him. The rent? That was the five hundred dollars she transferred him monthly. She was using my apartment to keep her lover, and telling me I was collecting rent. I screenshotted and saved all the posts. Then I zoomed in on his profile picture. Looking at that face. I had indeed seen it before. It took me ten seconds to recall where. Three years ago. The company’s annual gala. Charlotte brought a fresh graduate to me: “Honey, this is my new colleague, Marcus. He wants to get promoted, could you mentor him?” I treated him to two dinners. Helped him revise his resume. Recommended him to a department. He called me “Mr. Liu.” He said: “Mr. Liu, I’ll definitely repay you someday.” Now he had repaid me. With my apartment, he built his nest. I locked my phone. Closed my eyes. No tears. It wouldn’t help. I opened my eyes, unlocked my phone again, and tapped into Charlotte’s Messenger. I needed to know more. 3 The chat history was more extensive than I’d imagined. Charlotte had set Marcus Chen’s contact name to a sun emoji. I scrolled to the earliest records. Date—two years and three months ago. I did the math. That month, I suffered an acute appendicitis attack. That month, I fainted from pain and was rushed to the hospital. That month, I lay in the hospital bed, too weak to speak. Charlotte, that very month, confessed her feelings to Marcus. The chat history was crystal clear. “You know, from the first day I saw you, my heart skipped a beat.” Marcus replied: “But you’re married.” Charlotte said: “I have no feelings for him anymore.” Marcus: “Really?” Charlotte: “Really. Our marriage has been dead for a long time.” Dead for a long time. What was the date again? I checked the calendar. April 17th. On April 17th, I was still in the hospital. I vividly remembered that evening, alone in my hospital room, messaging Charlotte: “When are you coming?” She replied: “Working late, I’ll be there later.” She was working late. Confessing her feelings to Marcus Chen. I scrolled further. In May, I was discharged and went home. Still recuperating. Charlotte’s chat history showed her taking Marcus to a Japanese restaurant. In June, I had my first post-surgery inflammation, my stomach cramping so badly I couldn’t stand straight. Charlotte’s records showed them visiting Lakeview Resort. Marcus posted: “So happy, darling! Our first trip together.” Charlotte replied: “I’ll take you every year from now on.” That month, I asked Charlotte: “You look tanned?” She said: “Been out and about a lot for work recently.” I believed her. I kept scrolling. Two years and three months of chat history. Everything was there. Sweet nothings. Flirtation. Dates. And some pictures I never wanted to see again. I screenshotted and saved everything I needed. Then I saw a crucial conversation. It was six months ago. Marcus asked: “Darling, can I really live in that apartment?” Charlotte said: “Of course, I bought it before we got married, it’s in my name. Once I divorce him, it will be our home.” Marcus: “But won’t your husband have an issue?” Charlotte: “He doesn’t know. I told him it was rented out. Don’t worry, he’ll never know.” Marcus: “When do we start renovating?” Charlotte: “You handle it, you pay for it first, and I’ll pay you back everything once I’m divorced.” Marcus: “Okay, darling!” I looked at this conversation. She said the apartment was in her name. She said Marcus should pay for the renovation first. She said she’d repay him everything once she was divorced. Three sentences, three lies. The apartment was mine. She had no intention of repaying him. Divorce? She planned to leave me with nothing. I put down my phone. I had spent three years with this person. She cheated on me the month I had surgery. She used my apartment to house her lover. She tricked her lover into paying for renovations. She planned to leave me penniless. I picked up my phone again, continuing to scroll. I needed to know what else she had done. 4 I spent an entire night going through our finances. Charlotte thought I was clueless about money. Because ever since we got married, I never managed her salary account. What she didn’t know was that I had a finance background. I just didn’t manage it. That didn’t mean I couldn’t. I opened our joint account. This account was opened after we married, with both our salaries deposited into it. Balance: $1,420. I gasped. Last month, our combined salaries were $3,500. Where was the money? I pulled up the transaction history for the past year. Transaction by transaction. Every month, Charlotte consistently transferred money to an account ending in 4477. The amounts varied. One thousand, two thousand, once even thirty-five hundred. Over the year, forty-three thousand dollars had been transferred. Forty-three thousand dollars. I continued my investigation. Whose account was the one ending in 4477? I found it in Charlotte’s phone’s transfer records. Account name: Charlotte Thorne. She had opened an account I didn’t know about. Systematically transferred our joint savings out, piece by piece. I found another transfer. Eight months ago, eighteen thousand dollars transferred from the 4477 account. Memo: Car payment. I remembered. Marcus Chen’s Instagram had a post: “Birthday gift from my wife.” A white Honda Civic. Eighteen thousand dollars. From our joint savings. Registered in Marcus Chen’s name. I printed screenshots of all the transactions. $43,000 transferred. $18,000 for a car. $500 monthly transfers to Marcus Chen. Credit card renovation expenses of $23,000. Plus what Marcus Chen himself had covered— Approximately $90,000 in total. In these three years, she had stolen nearly $90,000 from our marriage. I sat at my desk, the computer screen light illuminating my face. Charlotte was watching TV in the living room. She didn’t know I was checking the accounts. She thought I was working overtime. She thought I knew nothing. She thought everything was under control. “Honey, I’ve washed some apples. Do you want one?” She called from the living room. Her voice was normal. Just like always. I closed my laptop and walked out. “Sure, thanks.” I took an apple. Took a bite. Sweet. She continued watching TV. I sat beside her, eating the apple she’d washed, looking at her profile. This face, while I was in the hospital, told another man, “I have no feelings for him anymore.” I finished the apple and smiled. “Honey, have you been busy lately? Lots of overtime?” “Yeah, lots of projects.” “That’s tough.” “It’s fine.” She didn’t even glance at me. I returned to my study. Opened my phone. Sent Sam a message. “Are you free tomorrow for lunch? I want a divorce. This time, I’m serious.” Sam replied instantly: “My treat tomorrow. Get your situation organized and bring it with you.” I started compiling. Property deed. Prenuptial agreement. Screenshots of infidelity chats. Social media screenshots. Bank statements. Transfer records. Marcus Chen’s delivery address. It totaled over forty pages. Printed, and placed into a file folder. I glanced at the time. 1 AM. The TV in the living room went silent. Charlotte walked over: “Not sleeping yet?” “Soon.” She left. I locked the file folder in a drawer. But I didn’t go to sleep right away. Because I was thinking about one thing. I could confront her now. But— Marcus Chen’s renovation wasn’t finished yet. On Instagram, he said, “Just the final touches of soft furnishings.” Just a little more. If I confronted her now, he would have spent forty thousand. If I waited until he finished everything, he would have spent fifty thousand. Wait half a month longer. Get an extra ten thousand. And— Sam had said: “Fixtures and fittings are part of the real estate; legally, they belong to the owner.” The more he put in, the more I would get. I turned off the light. Got into bed. Charlotte was already asleep, her back to me. I looked at her back. Just you wait. 5 The next day at noon, I handed Sam the file folder. He read it for half an hour. His expression shifted from calm to shocked, then to anger. Finally, he closed the folder and looked at me. “Alexander, your wife is truly ruthless.” I said nothing. He began to break it down for me, point by point. “First, the apartment. The Riverbend Towers unit, bought in full before marriage, solely in your name on the deed, and with a prenuptial agreement. This is your personal property, she has no claim to a single cent of it.” “I know.” “Second, Marcus Chen’s renovations. Legally, permanent fixtures – flooring, ceilings, custom cabinets, built-in appliances – are considered part of the real estate, and transfer with the property. In other words, what he installed in your apartment, is yours.” “He can’t take it?” “Custom cabinets are bolted to the walls, floors are laid down. How would he take them? Dismantle them? They wouldn’t be worth anything once disassembled.” I nodded. “Third, community property. The forty-three thousand dollars she transferred out is considered embezzlement of marital assets. You can claim full recovery during the divorce.” “What about the car?” “She used community property to buy a car for a third party. This can be used as evidence of fault. When the court rules on the divorce, with evidence of infidelity and asset transfer, you can claim a larger share.” Sam looked at me. “Your situation now is – you have the apartment, the evidence, the law. She has nothing.” I said: “I know.” “So, what are you planning to do?” I said: “Wait until he finishes the renovation.” Sam paused, then he smiled. “You’re going to wait for him to spend all fifty thousand, then take possession?” “He’s almost finished. Just the last bit of soft furnishings.” “Wait for the soft furnishings too?” “Yes.” Sam looked at me, then laughed aloud. “Alexander, you’re tougher than I thought.” I said: “It’s not that I’m tough. He’s renovating my apartment. I’m just waiting for him to finish.” Sam thought for a moment, then seriously said: “Legally, there’s no issue. You are the owner; he renovated your property without your consent. You have the right to reclaim the apartment at any time. His renovation losses, he can seek compensation from Charlotte. It has nothing to do with you.” “Good.” “I’ll prepare all the legal documents for you. Lawyer’s letter, divorce petition, asset preservation application. Ready to use at any time.” “No rush for now.” “Wait for him to finish?” “Wait for him to finish.” We clinked glasses. Sam said: “This meal is on me.” I said: “The next one’s on me. In that newly renovated apartment.” Sam chuckled. For the next two weeks, I did nothing. Normal work. Normal home. Normal meals, TV, and conversations with Charlotte. When she said she was working late, I told her to take care of herself. When she said she was on a business trip, I told her to be careful on the road. What she didn’t know was— Every transfer she made, I recorded. Every Instagram post from Marcus, I saw. Every legal document, Sam prepared. All I had to do was wait. Wait for that fifty thousand dollars to be completely spent. 6 In those two weeks of waiting, I did a few things. First, I contacted a locksmith. I found a certified locksmith company online. “I need a new smart lock installed.” “Okay, when?” “I’ll let you know.” Second, I visited the notary’s office. I had an additional notarization done for the property deed, confirming that the property had no rental or usage authorization whatsoever. The notary asked me: “What are you trying to prevent?” I said: “Preventing someone from claiming I consented to their occupancy.” Third, I went to the bank and froze the joint account. Sam helped me apply to the court for asset preservation. Charlotte’s account ending in 4477, and her credit cards, were all frozen. She didn’t know yet. By the time she found out, it would be too late. Fourth, I found Marcus Chen’s online loan records. Sam helped me with this. Marcus Chen was 27, a clerk at Charlotte’s company. Monthly salary: six hundred dollars. Fifty thousand dollars for renovations, where did he get the money? The answer was – online loans. Three platforms. He’d borrowed thirty-two thousand dollars in total. The remaining eighteen thousand, he’d put on four credit cards. A young man earning six hundred dollars a month, burdened with fifty thousand dollars in debt, renovating an apartment that wasn’t his. Because Charlotte told him: “This is my apartment. Once I’m divorced, I’ll put it in your name. I’ll pay you back all the money.” He believed her. Looking at these figures, I actually felt a fleeting moment of pity for him. But only for a second. Because I remembered a passage from the chat logs. Marcus asked Charlotte: “Will your husband find out?” Charlotte said: “No. He’s a workaholic, doesn’t pay attention to anything.” Marcus replied with a laughing emoji, then said: “Right, he’s the type who just works all day, never bothers with romantic surprises, no wonder you…” I didn’t finish reading the rest. Pity? Forget it. Let everyone face their own consequences. Fifth. I sent Charlotte a message. “Honey, I’m on a business trip next week, Monday to Friday, to Seattle.” She replied: “Okay, be safe.” Three seconds later, another message: “Good timing, I’m busy this week too, you don’t have to worry about the house.” Don’t have to worry about the house. Are you afraid of me coming back? I smiled. The “business trip” was, of course, a lie. I needed to give them time. For Marcus to finish the last of the soft furnishings. During those “business trip” days, I kept an eye on Marcus Chen’s Instagram. Tuesday: “The sofa arrived! Real leather! My wife said only the best.” I looked up the sofa in the photo. Three thousand eight hundred dollars. Wednesday: “Curtains are up, the blackout effect is amazing!” Thursday: “Last item – a decorative painting. Hung it on the living room wall.” In the photo, Marcus stood in front of the painting, smiling broadly. Behind him was the brand-new living room. My living room. Friday, he posted his last update. Fifty thousand and eighty dollars. I screenshotted it. Then made three phone calls. First, the locksmith: “Monday morning works?” “Yes.” Second, Sam: “Are the documents ready?” “Long ready.” Third, Riverbend Towers property management: “Hello, I’m Alexander Liu, owner of Apartment 1702, Building 3. Would it be convenient for you to assist me with something tomorrow morning?” “What is it?” “Reclaiming my apartment.” I put down my phone. Outside the window were the lights of Seattle. In reality, I hadn’t gone anywhere. I stayed in a hotel for five days. Alone. But not lonely. Because I knew, starting tomorrow, everything would be different. Fifty thousand and eighty dollars. Marcus Chen, thank you for renovating for me. 7 Monday morning at 8:30 AM. I stood at the base of Riverbend Towers. Beside me stood Sam, the locksmith, and the property manager I had arranged to meet. Sam was in a suit, holding a black folder. The locksmith carried his toolbox. The property manager seemed a little nervous: “Mr. Liu, are you sure about today?” “Absolutely.” “But there are people living inside.” “I know.” I patted the folder. “This contains the original property deed, the prenuptial agreement, and the supplementary notarization. This apartment is 100% mine. The people living inside do not have my authorization.” The property manager nodded: “Then we will cooperate.” We took the elevator up. Reached the 17th floor. Walked to the door of 1702. The door had a newly installed smart lock. Keypad lock. Fingerprint lock. Marcus had changed it. I took a deep breath. Then, knocked. Once. Twice. Footsteps sounded inside. The door opened. Marcus Chen stood there in home clothes, his hair disheveled, his face showing the weariness of just waking up. He saw me and froze. Three seconds. Then his eyes slowly widened. “Mr… Mr. Liu?”

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I was the quintessential trophy wife, perfectly trained and utterly submissive. Ever since we got married, Kevin controlled every aspect of my life. If he told me to go east, I didn’t even dare glance west. That was, until the glowing words started floating in thin air. That was how I discovered I was nothing but a pathetic, clingy side character in a modern romance novel. [LMAO, the side character is so spineless. She even lets him boss her around in bed.] [She crawls away crying, but one look from the male lead and she scurries right back, trembling. Pathetic.] [To be fair, it’s kind of cute. But so what? The male lead is destined to fall for the fierce, independent heroine who actually challenges him!] My eyes widened in the dark. Later that night. Kevin opened his arms toward me, expecting his usual routine. But I didn’t curl into his embrace like a well-behaved pet. Instead, I sat up straight, looked him dead in the eye, and provoked him. “I am sick of this. I have never even been satisfied!” 1 The heavy, intimate atmosphere in the bedroom vanished instantly. Dead silence. Kevin looked down at me, his gaze unreadable. If this were yesterday, my heart would have skipped a beat in terror. I would have bitten my lip, practically crawling into his arms, whispering apologies about how I was just joking. But things were different now. I had to change. I could no longer be Kevin’s obedient little doll. I refused to let him manage my life anymore. His thin lips finally parted. “You have never been satisfied?” My eyes widened slightly. He stared at me with absolute calm, his voice utterly flat. “Then why do you always tremble so much at the end?” I was speechless. Damn it. That suffocating, authoritative pressure of his was hard to fight. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “I was faking it.” A faint crease appeared between Kevin’s brows. I pushed my luck, keeping my tone deadly serious. “Look at you, always needing to get to the bottom of everything! Now you know the truth, and you are upset. I was just trying to protect your fragile male ego. I had to put on a performance every single time, and frankly, I am exhausted from acting.” Having fired off that entire monologue in one breath, I exhaled heavily. Provoking him like this definitely gave me that fierce heroine energy the floating comments were talking about, right? The air in the room completely stagnated. Kevin’s expression didn’t change. He simply lifted his heavy eyelids, his dark gaze pinning me to the mattress. “Is that so?” After a long, agonizing pause, he finally spoke again. “It must have been very hard on you all this time.” I guiltily lowered my eyes. “It wasn’t that hard…” A second later, I realized my mistake and snapped my head up. “Actually, yes. It was extremely difficult. You definitely need to improve.” Before he could respond, I dropped another bomb. “There is one more thing. I passed my resume screening at Nova Innovations. I am starting my new job there tomorrow.” Kevin just looked at me. He didn’t say a word. I hesitated for a second before adding my defense. “After all, I can’t just be a stay-at-home wife forever.” His tone was entirely indifferent. “If memory serves, that company belongs to your ex-boyfriend.” “Uh, yeah, I think so. But it is a big place, I probably won’t even see him. Besides, my career is my own business.” Kevin’s long, elegant fingers moved up to his collar, slowly unbuttoning the top button of his pajama shirt. My heart did a terrifying little flip, cold sweat breaking out on my back. I knew that gesture. Every time he was about to brutally dress down a corporate executive, he did exactly that. And he did it when he was about to lecture me, too. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting every ingrained instinct that screamed at me to surrender and apologize. Thankfully, the lecture never came. He just looked away and said one word. “Fine.” 2 I lay flat on the incredibly soft mattress. The space beside me was already cold. Kevin had gone to his home office to handle late-night emails. The glowing text materialized in front of my eyes once again. [Wait, why is the side character suddenly fighting back?] [The submissive wife is having an awakening…] [But you have to admit, seeing this just proves the male lead doesn’t love her at all.] [Exactly! She literally said she is going to work at her ex’s company, and he just agreed. Later in the story, once he falls for the real heroine, he completely loses his mind if she even looks at another guy.] [True! The heroine talks to a waiter and the male lead gets crazy jealous and possessesive.] I stared at the floating words. Whatever drowsiness I had was entirely gone. I was wide awake. I tossed and turned, violently twisting the expensive sheets. I was so incredibly furious. Kevin was six years older than me. We grew up in the same wealthy social circles, so he was essentially the older boy next door. He was brilliant, cold, and relentlessly strict. The ultimate golden child. Because my grades were terrible, our parents forced him to tutor me. I spent my childhood getting scolded by him. If my mind wandered, he would tap my knuckles with his pen. In my eyes, he was always an older brother. A teacher. An authority figure. So even when we got married, I was still terrified of him. But Kevin was undeniably exceptional. After taking over the Hopkins Group, his ruthless and decisive tactics made their empire expand exponentially. I had just gotten used to obeying him. And my reward for years of absolute submission was getting mentally cheated on? The next morning. I dragged myself downstairs for breakfast, sporting heavy dark circles under my eyes. A flawless gourmet breakfast was already laid out on the long mahogany dining table. Kevin was sitting at his usual spot, impeccably dressed in a custom-tailored suit, silently eating. The private chef looked at me in shock. “Madam, you are up…” I waved a hand dismissively. “Just throw something simple together for me.” For years, I had slept in until noon and went straight to lunch. Kevin was always the only one who ate breakfast in this massive house. I couldn’t blame the chef for staring. Kevin set down his silver cutlery. His dark eyes lifted, locking onto me. I sat there looking miserable and kept my mouth shut. In the past, I would have already put on a bright, bubbly smile and chirped about how handsome my husband looked today. But I simply didn’t have the energy for the performance anymore. “Going to your orientation?” he finally asked. I just gave a noncommittal hum. The dining room fell right back into a suffocating silence. 3 It wasn’t until we got into separate luxury cars, driving off in completely opposite directions, that reality truly hit me. If I didn’t actively force a conversation, Kevin and I had absolutely nothing to say to each other. I used to be so painfully dense. I never even noticed. I used to act like an absolute idiot, following him around, calling him sweet pet names, racking my brain for anything to talk about just to fill the quiet. I stared blankly out the window, letting out a heavy sigh. After checking in at my new office, I barely had time to read the onboarding manual before I was dragged into a departmental strategy meeting. A gorgeous, radiant girl with her hair pulled into a high ponytail was standing at the front of the conference room, confidently presenting a marketing proposal. I sat in the back row, stifling a yawn while taking lazy notes. A coworker next to me whispered. “I heard she is just a college intern. Isn’t she amazing?” “Right? She knows her stuff, and she is so fiercely opinionated.” Hearing those specific adjectives made me pause, but I didn’t dwell on it. Until she reached the climax of her brilliant presentation. The heavy glass doors of the conference room swung open. The department director practically bowed as he walked in. “Mr. Hopkins, right this way, please.” My head snapped up. The same man I had coldly parted ways with this morning was casually strolling into my office. He was impossibly tall, radiating an aristocratic, freezing aura. The floating comments instantly exploded in my field of vision. [OMG! Mom and Dad are finally meeting!] [The butterfly effect is real! If the side character hadn’t randomly decided to get a job, the main couple wouldn’t have met this early.] [We actually have to thank the side character for giving us this sweet romance so soon.] [The poor side character is still throwing a tantrum today, completely unaware that she is just speeding up her own divorce.] [Yeah, if she had just stayed the obedient little wife, the male lead might have actually felt a little pity for her.] I was completely out of energy. Being the discarded side character in someone else’s love story was absolutely exhausting. My eyes lingered on the second comment. So, Kevin wasn’t here by coincidence. He came here specifically for me? I rubbed my chin in thought, right as my gaze collided with his pitch-black eyes. The seat directly across from me happened to be empty. Kevin pulled out the chair and sat down. His dark stare rested on my face for exactly one second before he looked away. The director nervously hovered nearby. “These slides outline our newest strategic approach, which perfectly aligns with the Hopkins Group’s core philosophy.” Kevin looked at the screen with an impassive face. I looked at him, then looked at the bright, confident intern presenting the slides. I couldn’t help but think it to myself. They really did look like the perfect novel couple. The cold billionaire and the bright, talented girl. A match made in heaven. As I thought about it, my grip on my pen tightened. I wanted to take this stupid ballpoint pen and stab a hole right through Kevin’s expensive suit. By the time I snapped out of my murderous daydream, the room was dead quiet. I looked up in confusion, only to find Kevin staring right at me again. The director immediately snapped at me. “This is not the time to be daydreaming! Pay attention!” Kevin slowly raised a long finger, silencing the man. “It is fine.” He paused, his voice dropping into a cool, flat tone. “However, if you find the corporate pace too difficult to adapt to, you are always welcome to stay home.” The director nodded profusely. “Of course, of course, Mr. Hopkins.” I dropped my pen on the table, grinding my teeth. When the presentation finally ended, everyone filed out. I stayed glued to my chair, refusing to leave. Kevin didn’t leave either. He sent his assistant away to handle the actual contract negotiations. Soon, it was just the two of us left in the empty boardroom. “What was that supposed to mean?” I glared at him. “Were you trying to publicly humiliate me?” Kevin raised a brow. “No.” I bit my lip, deciding to change the subject. “I never heard anything about the Hopkins Group collaborating with Nova Innovations. Why the sudden partnership? And why would the CEO show up in person? Is it because of…” Because of me? Before I could finish the sentence, he cut me off, his tone entirely dismissive. “You have never taken an interest in my corporate affairs. It is only natural you wouldn’t know.” I froze, completely struck dumb by the cold rejection. Right at that moment, the door opened. The bright intern who had presented the slides walked in. The actual heroine of the story. Stella. She froze when she saw Kevin and me alone in the room. “Oh, you two are…” Kevin casually took a step back, putting a very clear, professional distance between us. Stella smiled warmly, completely unfazed. “I am so sorry to interrupt your conversation. I just forgot my flash drive on the podium.” Kevin gave her a polite nod. “It is no problem.” I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died in my throat. I just gave a quiet, awkward nod. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fight the plot. Before I could sink into a depression, someone called my name. It was Sarah, the senior employee assigned to train me. She patiently clicked through a shared drive on my computer. “This folder has all the standard templates for our corporate agreements. Look through them so you know where everything is. Let me know if you get stuck.” With that, she walked away. I skimmed the list of files, my eyes locking onto a specific document. My finger clicked the mouse. I opened the template for a Divorce Settlement Agreement. I quietly saved a copy to my personal desktop. When I turned my chair around, I nearly jumped out of my skin. A tall figure was standing right behind me. I had no idea how long he had been there. His calm, dark eyes shifted slowly from my computer monitor down to my face. My heart skipped a beat. “Kevin…” The air felt thick like molasses. The silence was so heavy it made my chest ache with panic. “It is… I have a friend. She is going through a messy divorce with her husband.” The lie tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “I was just doing some research to help her out.” The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. Why did I instinctively make up an excuse? And such a pathetic one, too. But knowing Kevin’s personality, I figured he wouldn’t care enough to ask follow-up questions. I was just starting to mentally sigh in relief when his flat, emotionless voice cut through the air. “Which friend? Why haven’t I heard about this?” I stared at him. Why was he suddenly so inquisitive? I stayed silent for a moment before giving him a taste of his own medicine. “You have never taken an interest in my social life. It is only natural you wouldn’t know.” Kevin looked down at me, his thick eyelashes fluttering slightly. After a long pause, he turned around and walked away. 4 From that day on, Kevin and I entered a brutal cold war that lasted for half a month. He moved his things into the guest bedroom. Half the time, he didn’t even come home, choosing to sleep in the executive suite at his headquarters. I spent my days secretly meeting with a high-end divorce attorney. After years of marriage, the Hopkins and Lockhart families had deeply intertwined financial interests. Untangling those assets without causing a stock market crash required meticulous planning. It was a slow process. One night, I came home exhausted from working late. The lights in the grand living room were dim. A tall, solitary figure was sitting on the velvet sofa. I paused in the entryway. “…Kevin?” I realized then that I physically couldn’t force myself to put on a sweet voice and call him ‘hubby’ anymore. Kevin looked up, his dark eyes locking onto me. I hesitated. “Were you waiting for me?” The massive house was dead quiet. He didn’t answer. Right. I was just flattering myself again. Just as I lifted my foot to head up the grand staircase, his calm voice echoed in the dark. “There is a charity gala the day after tomorrow. We are attending together.” I was about to reject him outright, but then I thought about it. The divorce papers weren’t finalized yet. If we started making public scenes now, the rumors would spread, and my parents would worry endlessly. Standing in the dim lighting, Kevin and I stared at each other. I gave a tired hum of agreement and walked straight upstairs. The room remained perfectly silent. Kevin stayed sitting on the sofa, completely motionless. 5 The night of the gala. I walked into the grand ballroom with my hand resting lightly on Kevin’s arm. A sudden wave of intense discomfort washed over me. I completely lost the desire I used to have for his physical touch. Thankfully, I spotted a socialite friend across the room. I immediately dropped Kevin’s arm and hurried over to her, escaping the suffocating proximity. Kevin stopped in his tracks, his long fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of his suit where my hand had just been. … My friend grabbed my hand, excitedly filling me in on her life. “I have to tell you, my husband and I went to see the active volcanoes last week. It was incredible. Next month, we are booking a private island. Oh, how are things with you and your terrifying billionaire?” I pressed my lips together, dodging the question. Looking at her sparkling eyes, I suddenly asked, “Do you and your husband… talk a lot?” “Of course we do.” She looked at me like I had asked a stupid question, then frowned dramatically. “But we argue all the time too! Sometimes I get so mad I want to punch him in the face… but he always ends up apologizing and coaxing me back to a good mood.” As she kept talking, my mind started to drift. Kevin and I had never had a real argument. If we ever disagreed, I always gave in. If I did something that annoyed him, even if I knew I wasn’t wrong, I was always the one who surrendered and apologized first. I couldn’t absorb a single word my friend said after that. Seeing my pale face, she asked gently, “Do you want to go to the VIP lounge for a bit? It is a little stuffy out here.” I shook my head and excused myself to go to the restroom. The gala was a sea of clinking champagne glasses and expensive perfume. There were plenty of international elites who had flown in just for this event. I recognized several familiar faces from the old days, and Kevin was likely off networking with his own inner circle. I walked down the quiet marble hallway, my mind completely unsettled. Until I heard a familiar, deep voice say, “It is fine.” I stopped dead in my tracks. A man’s voice immediately followed. “We all told you back then. If you didn’t love her, you shouldn’t have agreed to the political marriage. Now look at the mess you are in.” “Exactly. You clearly didn’t want it. You should have just followed your heart, man.” “Look at you now. This is what happens when you make a massive mistake.” A massive… mistake. I stood there in the shadows, staring blankly at the tips of my designer heels. I had always stupidly believed that Kevin harbored at least a little bit of affection for me. We had known each other our entire lives, after all. I thought that, just like the floating comments said, he only changed his mind because he was drawn to the bright, independent heroine. But the truth was, he never had any feelings for me to begin with. To him, our entire marriage was nothing but a regrettable error. The man’s voice continued. “But I hear you are finally getting the divorce sorted out. Good for you. Better to escape that misery while you can.” I spun around and practically ran in the opposite direction. My chest felt like it was going to explode with sheer rage and humiliation. Escape that misery? For years, I worshipped the ground he walked on, completely erasing my own personality to please him, and he considered being married to me a misery?! Then why didn’t he ask for a divorce years ago? Oh, right. Because Stella hadn’t appeared yet. Now that his perfect woman was in the picture, he didn’t want to settle anymore. Fuming with anger, I wasn’t looking where I was going. I slammed hard into someone’s chest. I stumbled back, quickly apologizing. “I am so sorry, are you alright?” “…Serena?” A hesitant voice called my name. I looked up, meeting a pair of very surprised eyes. I stumbled over my words. “Oh… Liam. Long time no see.” The man gave a soft laugh. “You just started working at my company, right? I have been overseas on business, so I only just saw you on the floor. What a coincidence.” I scratched my cheek awkwardly. “Yeah.” He looked at me closely. “Why did you suddenly decide to join the workforce? Does your…” He chose his next words carefully. “Does your husband mind?” Back in the day, Kevin and I had a wedding that practically shut down the city. Everyone in high society knew about it. Naturally, my ex-boyfriend Liam knew about it too. I forced a tight smile. “He will be gone very soon.” Liam froze. I kept my voice perfectly casual and repeated myself. “I said, I won’t have a husband very soon.” Yeah. I wasn’t cursing Kevin to die. I was just calmly stating the objective fact of our impending divorce. Liam didn’t respond for a long time. I followed his gaze and looked over my shoulder. Kevin was standing right behind me, a crystal champagne flute in his hand. His bespoke suit was as immaculate as always, though his silk tie was loosened just a fraction. His dark eyes landed heavily on me, then casually slid over to Liam, not lingering for even a second. Utterly devoid of warmth. How does he walk like a ghost? Does he not make any noise? I instinctively took a half-step backward. My back bumped right into Liam’s arm. Liam quickly reached out to steady me, then politely let go. “Mr. Hopkins,” Liam spoke first, his tone perfectly diplomatic. “I have heard a lot about you.” Kevin didn’t even look at him. Instead, he looked down at me. It was that terrifying, calculating look I knew all too well. The exact same look he gave me when he caught me daydreaming during our study sessions as kids. The hallway fell dead silent. It felt like an invisible barrier had slammed down, cutting us off from the noise of the ballroom. My heart was pounding out of my chest. My palms were slick with nervous sweat. “I will leave you two to catch up,” I managed to force a stiff smile. “I promised my friend I would find her.” I turned to flee. But a large hand clamped firmly around my wrist. Kevin’s thumb, slightly calloused, pressed against my pulse point. I froze, looking up into his dark eyes. “We are done catching up,” Kevin said, his voice flat. “I will go with you.” I completely stiffened. Liam looked at me, then looked at Kevin. He wisely smiled and took a step back. “I will excuse myself then. Serena, see you at the office.” I couldn’t tell if I was imagining it, but the grip on my wrist instantly tightened to the point of pain. The moment Liam disappeared around the corner, I tried to rip my arm out of Kevin’s grasp. But his fingers were like iron. Struggling was completely useless. “What did you mean?” Kevin’s lips barely moved, his voice dangerously low. I bit my lip, staring defiantly into his eyes. I slowly opened my mouth. “You heard exactly what I said, Kevin. We are getting a div—” “Mr. Hopkins!” A frantic voice suddenly interrupted me. A middle-aged executive hurried over, giving me a quick, nervous nod. “Madam.” He then turned to Kevin in a panic. “Mr. Hopkins, Miss Stella is being harassed by a group of guests by the ice sculpture. Everyone is watching…” The glowing text, which had been silent for days, suddenly exploded in my vision. [Here it comes! The classic hero-saves-the-beauty scene!] [Hurry up, male lead! Our poor, resilient heroine is about to get a drink thrown in her face!] [I have a feeling tonight is the turning point for their romance!] [The side character needs to back off and stop ruining the plot. I want my romantic climax!] I instinctively looked up at Kevin’s face. His gaze had already left mine, locking onto the direction the executive was pointing. Kevin’s fingers, which had been cutting off the circulation to my wrist, slowly loosened. He took a step away from me, toward the ballroom. I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “I thought you were coming with me to see my friend? Change of plans?” Kevin’s brows pulled together slightly. “Wait for me after the gala. I will find you.” I stood rooted to the spot, watching his broad shoulders and tall silhouette march step by step toward the girl trapped in the center of the crowd. Then, I heard his low, commanding voice cut through the noise. From halfway across the massive ballroom, it wasn’t clear, but I caught the word: “Stella.” The crowd parted like the Red Sea. I watched Stella look up at him. Her bright eyes were filled with the perfect mixture of shock and profound gratitude. They looked so perfect together. The whispers of the socialites drifted over to me. “Who is that girl?” “I heard she is just an intern at Liam Cross’s company.” “Really? What is her relationship with Kevin Hopkins? He looks ready to kill for her.” “Keep your voice down! Kevin and Serena are happily married. It is probably just a corporate courtesy thing.” The last two sentences were quickly tacked on when they realized I was standing right there. I listened in silence, staring at the scene unfolding in the distance. Just by standing next to her, Kevin dissolved all the malice directed at Stella. The people who had been bullying her were suddenly all smiles, frantically apologizing and claiming it was all a big misunderstanding. The comments were still flying across my eyes. [They look so cinematic standing together.] [Standing in front of the whole world to shield her from their cruelty… I am swooning.] [The side character looks so pathetic standing all alone in the corner. I almost feel bad for her.] [That is what happens when you let a man walk all over you. You get left in the dust to cry.] [I really hope the side character doesn’t turn crazy and start harassing the male lead… She loves him so much, it is going to be messy.] Kevin stood beside Stella. Elegant, unbothered, and radiating a warmth I rarely ever saw. I looked down at my expensive shoes and smiled. Harass him? Why would I ever do that? I had finally realized the cold, hard truth. Kevin and I were fundamentally incompatible. I had never once truly walked into his heart. I didn’t wait for the gala to end. I called my driver and left. As for Kevin saying he would find me afterward? Who would believe that? Only an absolute idiot would sit around waiting for him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “522241”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My six-month boyfriend, who texted me every day, confessed to my roommate on our first day of college. She wore my bunny scrunchie. As I reached for my phone to demand answers, glowing holographic text flooded my vision. [LMAO the side character thinks she matters. Log off.] [The FMC borrowed the villainess’s scrunchie and sparked instant love. Those looks were electric.] [Wait for the tantrums. Even if exposed, the ML returns to our girl. Angst fuels top-tier romance.] [He liked the side character only until meeting the FMC. Our girl wins every gaze.] I froze mid-reach. My phone buzzed with his message. “Babe, switch to my main number. Deleting this alt.” I typed a question mark and hit send. A red exclamation point appeared. Message failed. I had been blocked. The floating comments were still rolling frantically in front of my eyes. [Hahahaha this is too funny. The main couple just added each other on Snapchat. He thinks she’s using a burner account, so he just nuked the old one without a second thought. The side character looks so mad right now.] [Stay mad, honestly. Her only purpose in this story is to play matchmaker for the main couple. If it wasn’t her, it would be someone else.] [Ugh, but she’s totally about to go stalk him and act desperate. It sucks that our main couple is going to be forced apart. So stressful.] [Chill out! A brief separation will only make him realize that his heart truly belongs to our sweet girl. The more the villainess bullies her, the more chances he gets to play the hero. The hurt just makes the comfort ten times better!] I stood there staring at the floating words for a long time until the pieces finally clicked together in my head. Before heading downstairs, my roommate Sophie had asked to borrow my hair tie. Tristan saw the little bunny scrunchie in her hair, mistook her for me, and instantly poured his heart out to her. And just like that, they exchanged contacts. Tristan assumed the chat we had been using for half a year was just my secondary account, so he wiped it clean without a trace of hesitation. While I was lost in my own thoughts, Sophie casually walked back into our dorm room and stopped right in front of me. “Hey Lily, could you actually just sell this scrunchie to me? Please?” Before I could even process her words, she pulled out her phone and sent me ten bucks on Venmo, almost as if she was terrified I would say no. “Just sent the money over. Thanks so much!” She hugged her phone to her chest and practically skipped back to her bed, a dreamy smile plastered on her face. I opened my mouth, but the refusal died in my throat. Tristan had no idea that the girl he had been falling for over the past six months was actually me. We had originally crossed paths on an anonymous college forum. It took me months to finally muster up the courage to send him that first direct message. In the beginning, he was freezing cold. I was lucky if I got a single reply for every ten messages I sent. But I was happy just to have his attention. I racked my brain every single day trying to come up with interesting topics, just hoping he would talk to me a little longer. Slowly, the walls came down. He started replying faster. The real turning point happened at midnight a few months ago. He randomly texted me, asking if I could wish him a happy birthday. I was startled, but I replied instantly. We ended up staying on the phone until the sun came up. That was the night I learned his mother had passed away when he was young, and his dad had quickly remarried and started a new family. It was his birthday, and not a single person in his life had remembered. From that night on, everything shifted. We talked constantly. Three months later, we made it official. Once we started dating, Tristan became incredibly clingy. He begged to meet up in person all the time, but my own insecurities always held me back. We finally made a promise to meet on the first day of college. This morning, before Sophie left the room, she asked if she could borrow a hair tie. I handed her a plain black one, but she reached right past me and snatched the bunny scrunchie off my pillow. By the time I turned around to get it back, she was already out the door. I never in a million years imagined that Tristan would look at a piece of hair elastic and just assume the girl wearing it was me. I wanted to march over to Sophie and ask if she knew he had the wrong person. I wanted to ask why she was so desperate to buy it off me. More than anything, I wanted to run downstairs, stand right in front of Tristan, and scream that he had made a massive mistake. But my legs felt like they were filled with concrete. I couldn’t take a single step. [What’s going on? Why hasn’t the villainess gone after him yet? Shouldn’t she be storming out in a jealous rage right about now?] [Right? The plot is lagging.] [Man, poor FMC. She doesn’t even know the crazy roommate has figured it out. She’s just enjoying her sweet little romance. They’re about to get ripped apart and I’m already crying for her.] [Stay strong, sweetie!] I desperately wanted to go find him. But the floating text was painfully clear. Tristan and Sophie had experienced love at first sight. Even if I laid out all the evidence, he would still choose her in the end. I stood by my desk, battling with myself. Finally, the suffocating knot in my chest won out. I needed to face him. Even if he really did choose Sophie, I owed it to myself to fight for the relationship I had poured my heart into. Before leaving the room, I opened Venmo and sent the ten dollars right back to Sophie. “Sorry. It’s not for sale. Give it back.” That scrunchie was the only physical gift Tristan had ever given me. He was always trying to spoil me, randomly dropping hundred-dollar CashApp payments just to make me smile, constantly promising that we would be together forever. If I had known he would recognize a piece of fabric instead of my actual soul, I would have chased Sophie all the way to the lobby to rip it out of her hair. Seeing my outstretched hand, Sophie instinctively hid her hands behind her back, her fingers clutching the little fabric bunny for dear life. “L-Lily, didn’t I already send you the money?” I shook my head. “I’m not selling it.” I paused, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt. “That scrunchie means something really special to me.” The moment those words left my mouth, Sophie’s eyes welled up with dramatic tears. The other girls in the dorm immediately sensed the tension and rushed over to play peacekeeper. “Come on Lily, it’s just a cheap hair tie. If Sophie likes it, just let her have it.” “Yeah, plus she already paid you. You can get a pack of those at Target for like five bucks. Ten dollars is more than fair.” I stood there in heavy silence. “This isn’t about money,” I finally said, my voice dangerously calm. “I told you, I don’t want to sell it. It has sentimental value.” Seeing I wasn’t going to back down, my roommates awkwardly dropped the subject. Sophie bit her lip, her eyes red and puffy, and slowly reached out to hand it back to me. But just as my fingers brushed the fabric, she let go. The hair tie plummeted to the floor. The little bunny charm was made of solid ceramic. It hit the unforgiving dorm tiles with a sharp crack, splitting cleanly into two jagged pieces. My hand hung suspended in the empty air. “Oh my god! I am so, so sorry Lily! It was a total accident, I thought you had a grip on it!” “I am so sorry, I’ll just pay you for it again, I feel terrible.” Sophie let out a pathetic little sob, frantically tapping on her phone to send me another ten dollars. My roommates immediately swooped in to defend her. “Let it go, Lily. She clearly didn’t mean to drop it. Don’t be so hard on her.” “Seriously, we have to live together for the next four years. Let’s not make things weird over an accident.” I couldn’t stomach another second of it. I bent down, picked up the shattered pieces, and walked straight out of the dorm without looking back. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly what Sophie did. She let go on purpose. But it was true that the hair tie wasn’t worth much money. If I stayed in that room and screamed at her, all I would get were a few empty apologies. She had already sent the money. If I kept pushing, I would just look like the crazy, obsessed roommate making a scene over a piece of trash. And yet. My vision blurred as a hot, stinging sensation gathered in my eyes. I really loved that little bunny. Tristan had walked past a boutique one afternoon, FaceTimed me, and asked if I liked anything in the window. I had pointed at the little ceramic charm. He bought it right then and there and mailed it to me in a carefully wrapped box. And now it was broken. I paced back and forth outside the freshman boys’ dorms. Guys walking by shot me curious, lingering glances. The text in my vision flared up again, scrolling faster than before. [Tsk tsk tsk, here comes the villainess. She really doesn’t know when to quit.] [She knows our FMC already met the guy, but she still has to come ruin the vibe. So toxic.] [Standard jealous female side character behavior. Vicious and petty. But honestly, without her causing drama, how else is the main couple supposed to bond?] [Does she seriously think begging is going to work? This is just embarrassing. Second-hand embarrassment is so real right now.] [I feel like the male lead is going to be tainted… I mean, when he first finds out the truth, he actually gets manipulated into dating the villainess for a few days…] I stared at the glowing words, my chest tight. A part of me just wanted to turn around and walk away. But the anger burning in my veins refused to die down. We had spent countless hours pouring our hearts out through glowing screens. I had spent the entire summer dreaming about the moment we would finally meet. Would he like the real me? Would he think I wasn’t pretty enough? Would I be a disappointment? My fingers tightened around the sharp edge of the broken ceramic bunny, the pain grounding me. If I told him the truth, would it really end exactly like the floating text predicted? If he was just going to leave me anyway, what was the point of humiliating myself? The longer I stood there, the faster my courage bled out into the cool afternoon air. Just as I turned around, fully prepared to swallow my pride and walk away. I saw Tristan striding aggressively toward me. 2 Tristan was moving fast, carrying a wave of hostile energy with him. He stopped inches away from me. His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. There was absolutely no joy of a first meeting in his eyes. Just pure, unfiltered disgust. “Are you Lily?” His tone was ice-cold, dripping with condescension. The broken ceramic edge bit deeply into my palm, but I forced my spine straight and gave a single nod. “I am.” Tristan let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. “Sophie came back to the dorm crying her eyes out. She said you bullied her over some cheap piece of trash. We’re all in the same college, why are you so incredibly bitter?” “She literally just borrowed something from you. She paid you for it. What more do you want? Are you not going to be happy until you force her to move out?” The accusations hit me like a barrage of physical blows. I looked up at the face I had memorized from dozens of late-night selfies. The surreal absurdity of the situation almost made me laugh. Just last night, this exact same guy was calling me sweet names, promising that the second we met, he would buy me the most beautiful gifts in the world. Today, to defend a girl who stole my hair tie, he was standing in the middle of campus calling me a bitter bully. The floating text exploded like a fireworks show. [Yessss! Go off king! He sees right through her toxic vibe and steps up to protect our girl!] [The villainess is probably seething right now, but she can’t even say anything back. His aura is way too intimidating.] [That’s what you get for messing with our sweet girl! Tell her, Tristan! Don’t hold back!] I took a slow, deep breath. I walked over to the nearest trash can and dropped the broken pieces of ceramic inside. “Tristan.” I said his name, my voice completely devoid of emotion. He flinched. He clearly hadn’t expected me to speak to him so casually. His frown deepened. “How do you know my name? Did Sophie tell you?” I completely ignored the question. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the exact messaging app account he had just blocked. The red ‘Message Failed’ icon was still glowing brightly on the screen. I flipped the phone around and shoved it right into his line of sight. “Take a good look at this.” Tristan glanced at it with pure annoyance, but a second later, his eyes locked onto the screen. His entire body went rigid. The profile picture on that account was a photo he had picked out for me. The chat background was a picture of the city skyline he had taken himself. And sitting right there at the bottom of the screen was the log of our three-hour voice call from the night before. The disgust melted off his face, replaced by a horrifying pale shock. His pupils dilated. “You…” He opened his mouth, but the word choked in his throat. I didn’t give him a single second to breathe. I tapped on a voice note he had sent me three days ago. “Babe, the second I see you on campus, I’m going to grab you and hold you so tight. Nobody is ever going to take you away from me.” My phone volume was turned all the way up. Tristan’s deep, desperately affectionate voice echoed loudly outside the dorms. A few guys walking past stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes wide with juicy gossip, staring right at us. All the blood drained from Tristan’s face. He looked like he had been physically bolted to the pavement. “Did you hear that?” I pulled my phone back, locking eyes with his terrified, bloodless face. I pronounced every single word with razor-sharp clarity. “That scrunchie was sitting on my bed. Sophie took it and put it in her hair without asking me.” “You’re not just legally blind, Tristan. You’re actually brain-dead.” “Consider the last six months of my time charity work. We are completely done.” Tristan looked like he had been struck by lightning. It took him several agonizing seconds to even form a coherent thought. He stared wildly at my face, then back at my phone, his lips trembling. “You’re… you’re the one I’ve been talking to? How is that even possible?” “But she was wearing the bunny! I asked her if she was Lily, and she nodded!” I watched his pathetic panic attack with nothing but cold amusement. “She nodded, so you just bought it? We talked every single day for half a year. You don’t even know my vibe? My personality? My face? A ten-dollar hair tie is all you need to identify the love of your life?” Panic fully set in. He instinctively took a step forward, reaching out to grab my hand. “Lily, wait, you have to let me explain. I was just so hyped to finally meet you, my brain completely short-circuited, I thought—” I took a sharp step back, dodging his hand like it was diseased. “Don’t call me that. It makes me sick.” “You weren’t acting like this two minutes ago. Weren’t you just demanding justice for your precious Sophie? Go on. Go be her knight in shining armor.” The floating text above me started glitching out in a chaotic frenzy of panic. [Holy shit?! Why is the plot leaking early?! He wasn’t supposed to find out for another three weeks!] [Why isn’t she following the script?! She’s supposed to swallow her pride and silently plot her revenge! If she just dumps the truth like this, how does the story even work?!] [We’re doomed. He knows he messed up. What happens to our FMC now?!] [Everyone chill! He’s just shocked! Did you guys forget they had love at first sight?! Even if he knows the truth, he’s definitely going to realize he likes the FMC more!] I looked at the desperately coping comments floating in the air and felt the last heavy knot of grief dissolve from my chest. They could twist the narrative all they wanted. A guy so aggressively stupid that he couldn’t even recognize the girl he claimed to love wasn’t a prize. He was a liability. I didn’t want him. “Tristan. Delete my number. Block me on everything. If you see me on campus, cross the street.” I spun on my heel and walked away. Looking at him for one more second felt like a waste of oxygen. Tristan shouted my name, his voice cracking with desperate panic. I didn’t even turn my head. I walked out of the dorm quad with long, confident strides. The warm afternoon sun hit my face, and suddenly, I felt incredibly light. Draining my own energy for someone who wasn’t worth it was the dumbest thing I could possibly do. When I got back to my own dorm, the door was cracked open. Before I even touched the handle, I heard Sophie’s pathetic, wavering voice echoing from inside. “I honestly didn’t know the hair tie was that big of a deal to her. It was just so cute, I thought she wouldn’t mind if I wore it for a bit…” “The way she glared at me downstairs… it really scared me. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped it. She definitely hates me now.” Jenna, one of my roommates, sighed heavily. “Stop crying, Sophie. Honestly, Lily is doing too much. Throwing a massive fit over a cheap piece of elastic is crazy.” Brooke chimed in right on cue. “Right? We literally have to live together for four years. If she’s going to act like a psychopath over every little thing, this is going to be a nightmare.” I stood outside the door, a cold smirk spreading across my face. I lifted my leg and kicked the door right open. The heavy wood slammed against the wall with a deafening crack. The room went dead silent in a millisecond. Sophie violently flinched. The fake tears were still glistening on her cheeks as she looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes, playing the ultimate victim. “L-Lily… you’re back.” I walked straight past her, pulled out my desk chair, and sat down. I stared at her. “Are you done crying? Because if you’re not, keep going. I’ll record a quick video and drop it on the campus snap story so the whole school can see what a tragic victim you are.” Sophie’s face drained of color. She frantically wiped her eyes. “Lily, please don’t do this. I already said I was sorry…” “Save your apologies.” I cut her off instantly. “You should be apologizing to Tristan.” The second the name ‘Tristan’ left my mouth, Sophie’s eyes darted nervously to the floor. Her fingers twisted into her shirt. I raised my voice so every single person in the room could hear me loud and clear. “You walked downstairs wearing my scrunchie. Tristan looked right at you and asked if you were Lily. Why did you nod?” “You knew damn well he was the guy I had been dating online for six months. You didn’t just steal my identity, you played right along and added his contact. Tell me, Sophie, does stealing someone else’s boyfriend give you a power trip?” The air in the room practically froze solid. Jenna and Brooke stared at me, their jaws practically on the floor, whipping their heads back and forth between me and Sophie. “Wait, Lily… what did you just say? Tristan is your boyfriend?” Jenna stammered. I tossed my phone onto the desk, the chat logs glowing brightly. “Read it yourselves. We’ve been talking for six months. We were supposed to meet today. Instead, Sophie stole my hair tie, pretended to be me, and then had the nerve to text him crying, sending him over to yell at me for being a bully.” My roommates leaned in to read the screen. Their expressions instantly soured. Brooke physically took a step away from Sophie, staring at her with pure disgust. “Sophie, what is actually wrong with you? That is insane.” Sophie panicked. She threw her hands up, her fake tears entirely replaced by genuine terror. “I didn’t do it on purpose! I swear I didn’t know he was your boyfriend! I thought he just mistook me for someone else, and he was so cute, I just panicked and gave him my snap… I really didn’t know!” I watched her pathetic act with absolute zero sympathy. “You didn’t know? Then how did you know exactly who to run to when you wanted someone to come scream at me outside the dorm?” “Cut the victim routine, Sophie. I just ripped Tristan a new one downstairs and dumped his ass.” “Since you love digging through my trash so much, you can keep the cheating loser. You two are perfect for each other.” The floating text was having a complete meltdown right in front of my face. [I am so incredibly angry right now! Why is the villainess such a massive bitch?! How dare she call our sweet girl trash!] [Don’t cry, baby! You don’t deserve to share a room with a psycho like her!] [Everyone calm down, the male lead is totally going to come comfort her. The higher the villainess acts right now, the harder she’s going to fall later.] [Exactly! Once Tristan sees how pure and innocent our FMC is, he’s going to fall head over heels. The villainess is just digging her own grave!] I didn’t even waste a blink on the holographic copium. Digging my own grave? We would see about that. The first week of classes started, and I completely detached myself from the drama. I threw every ounce of my energy into my industrial design courses and upcoming projects. The university had just announced the “Apex National Design Competition.” It was a massive deal for freshmen. Winning the national gold didn’t just mean a $10,000 cash prize. It guaranteed a fast track to a master’s program. I didn’t have the time or the brain cells to care about whatever pathetic soap opera Tristan and Sophie were filming. I lived in the library and the design studio, pulling reference data and building 3D models. One afternoon, I was sitting in my major’s core lecture.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “522240”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Once Luke finally became my official boyfriend, his jealousy went off the charts. If I had dinner with a colleague, he threw a tantrum. If I waved to a neighbor, he started crying. Even when my ex got into a car accident and I went to the hospital to visit, he completely lost his mind. Suffocated by his overbearing possessiveness, I ended up screaming at him right outside the ward. “I literally just came to bring him a fruit basket!” “But that’s exactly how I got you in the first place, by playing the pity card!” His eyes were bloodshot. “Don’t think I didn’t hear him! He just said if he could do it all over again, he’d cherish you and never let me slide into your DMs!” “Mia, if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t play the side piece either. This guy is keeping his dignity!” And just like that, his wish came true. The next day, everything reset to the very afternoon Tucker first introduced Luke to me. 1 Yesterday, Luke slammed the door and stormed out, his eyes raw and red. I was used to him running away whenever we fought. Figuring he would cool down, talk himself out of his anger, and crawl back on his own tomorrow, I climbed into my king-sized bed and drifted off to sleep. But when I opened my eyes, I was lying in a narrow twin bed in a crowded college dorm. My roommate pulled back my bed curtain and peeked in. “Oh, you’re awake? Your boyfriend said you weren’t answering his texts. He asked me to wake you up.” Completely bewildered, I grabbed my phone. Tucker’s messages immediately popped up. [Still asleep? Get up and put some makeup on.] [My roommate said he’s buying us dinner today.] Staring at the word “roommate,” my heart skipped a beat. The memory of Luke’s tearful, indignant face from the night before flashed in my mind. Mia, if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t play the side piece either. This guy is keeping his dignity! After a few seconds of silence, I typed back. [Sorry, Tucker. I’m not feeling well today. Tell your roommate I’m really sorry for missing out.] Tucker called almost instantly. I hesitated for a moment before picking up. “Hey, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” The younger version of Tucker sounded exactly the same as he did in my memories. I made up a quick excuse and hung up. Lying back down, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. In our college days, Tucker and I were the golden couple everyone envied. No one could have guessed how toxic and ugly things would get just six months later. With my mind in a chaotic whirl, I finally dragged myself out of bed and took a hot shower. When I got back to the room, my roommate looked up. “Your phone keeps ringing. There’s no caller ID, so I didn’t pick up.” I walked over and picked up the device. Looking at the familiar number, my heart did a violent flip. The phone rang again. I slid the screen to answer. The person on the other end was silent, as if waiting for me to break first. I didn’t say a word either. Finally, after ten agonizing seconds, Luke spoke, his voice dripping with barely suppressed rage. “Mia, you are unbelievable!” The line went dead. I climbed back into bed, rubbing my temples. It was obvious. Luke had reset too. In this timeline, the current Luke shouldn’t even know me, let alone have my phone number. We were supposed to meet for the first time at dinner today, introduced by Tucker. But I hadn’t gone. And now, he was furious all over again. Only this time, I wanted to give him a chance to make a different choice. After all, in our three years together in my past life, he had spent two and a half of them angry. It hadn’t really bothered me, but I used to catch him sitting at the edge of the bed in the middle of the night, quietly crying. I had honestly worried he would give himself a heart attack from pure frustration. The next morning, Tucker called to tell me he was downstairs. I paused for a second before asking, “Did you come alone?” Tucker sounded confused. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” An odd sensation settled in my chest. Luke hadn’t come with him. It seemed he, too, was letting things slide back into their original, separate tracks. “Thanks for the breakfast,” I said, taking the bag from him. Tucker reached out to ruffle my hair. “Why are you being so polite today?” My instinctive flinch made both of us freeze. A shadow crossed Tucker’s eyes before he quickly masked it with a smile. “I have a basketball game this afternoon. Come bring me some water.” As his girlfriend, showing up to hand him water and mark my territory was practically a given. But back then, Tucker would never let me go to his games. I remembered how I used to tease him, clinging to his arm. “What, are you afraid some other girls will get jealous if they see us?” Tucker would gently push me away, a flicker of guilt washing over his face, though younger me had been too blind to notice. “I…” Now, I didn’t want that role at all. Just as I was trying to think of an excuse to refuse, Tucker leaned in close. I took a sharp step back. The darkness in his eyes deepened. “Babe, what is wrong with you today?” I forced a dry laugh, quickly changing the subject. “What kind of drink do you want me to bring this afternoon?” Seeing me agree, his expression softened a bit. 2 I figured Luke would be at the game. I didn’t plan on hiding from him either. We went to the same university, so encounters were inevitable. Still, the moment I stepped onto the court, a burning gaze locked onto me. It was so intense it made my skin prickle. I looked up, only to find him looking in the complete opposite direction. “Babe, over here!” Tucker’s voice boomed across the court as he waved at me. In my memory, he had never been this loud or public about us. Was that burning gaze actually his? Clutching the sports drink in my hand, I jogged over to him. A few guys on the sidelines started whistling and teasing. “Damn, you’re finally showing her off to the boys!” “No wonder you kept her hidden, she’s gorgeous!” Tucker took the bottle, his eyes shining. “I’m really glad you came.” I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. My back felt incredibly cold. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I saw Luke standing a few yards away, his face entirely blank. The moment our eyes met, he casually looked away and snatched a bottle of water from a girl standing next to him. “Keep my jacket for me, babe. I’ll take you out to eat after this,” Tucker said, pulling my attention back. I blinked, slightly stunned. Babe? Was Tucker out of his mind? Had he always been this cringey? In my memory, our relationship had been quite distant and cool. “Okay,” I murmured. The moment I agreed, a loud crash echoed from the nearby trash can. Everyone turned to look. Luke was calmly dusting off his hands. “Just throwing away some garbage.” I stared at him. I knew that look all too well. He was throwing a fit. A massive one. But right now, he had absolutely no right to be angry. In our past life, he could scream and shout at me. Now, we were total strangers who hadn’t even been introduced. I didn’t actually understand basketball. Listening to the crowd cheer, I just stared blankly at the court. Tucker was my current boyfriend. Yet, my eyes kept drifting toward Luke. Sighing, I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on, and just kept my head down. After what felt like forever, a pair of sneakers appeared in my field of vision. I looked up to find Luke staring down at me. Compared to the man he was three years later, his features weren’t as sharp yet, but he was still strikingly handsome. His eyes were cold, and neither of us said a word. “Excuse me,” he finally muttered. His voice was stiff and icy. Knowing him, he was probably vibrating with rage but forcing himself to play it cool. Looking at the wide empty space around us, I silently pulled my legs in to let him pass. A familiar, clean scent brushed past me as he walked by. My chest tightened. Luke had never treated me with such cold indifference before, and it stung. But before I could even process the ache, he spun right back around. “Excuse me again.” I was speechless. I watched in sheer disbelief as Luke began moving sports drinks from the left side of the bench to the right side, one by one. He paced back and forth right in front of me. He did this about a dozen times. Until Tucker’s voice broke the silence. “Babe, give me my jacket.” I looked up. Luke’s knuckles were white around a plastic bottle as he watched us. Tucker smiled warmly, taking the jacket and holding it close to his chest. “Smells so good. Since you were holding it, it smells just like you.” The loud pop of a plastic bottle collapsing under sheer grip strength startled us. We both turned to look at Luke. He calmly threw the crushed, empty bottle into the bin. He pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe his hands, entirely “accidentally” revealing a perfectly defined set of eight-pack abs. “I prefer washing my hands with mineral water. Tap water is too dirty for me.” It was like watching a close friend try way too hard to flex. My lips twitched. I had to force myself not to laugh. Tucker’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. He quickly wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Oh, I forgot to introduce you guys. Babe, this is Luke, my roommate.” I nodded. Tucker patted my head, his tone dripping with affection. “And this is my girl, Mia.” The silence in the air became suffocating. Tucker dropped his hand and took my fingers in his. My whole body went rigid. I felt like Luke’s glare was slicing me into a thousand pieces. “Let’s go get some food,” Tucker said. Before we could even turn around, Luke spoke up. “I haven’t eaten either.” Tucker offered a tight smile. “Then go eat.” Something felt incredibly off. Did Luke and Tucker always have this much tension between them? 3 Luke pressed his lips together. “Let’s go together.” Tucker nodded. “Sure. I’ll call a few more friends then. My treat.” He pulled out his phone to make some calls, but his other hand kept a firm grip on mine. I felt incredibly awkward but didn’t want to make a scene by snatching my hand back, so I just stood there like a statue. I glanced over and saw Luke taking his jacket back from the girl who had been holding it. So, he had let that girl hold his jacket the entire time. I quietly looked away. … “The heater is blasting in here. Want to take off your coat and let me hold it?” As soon as we walked into the private dining room, Tucker slid into the seat to my left, tugging gently at my cardigan. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. Had Tucker always been this suffocatingly clingy? It was honestly exhausting. But before I could even take my coat off, someone slid into the empty seat on my right. Recognizing the silhouette, I froze completely. Tucker grabbed my chair and pulled it closer to his side. “He just finished playing, he’s probably sweating. Don’t want him ruining your appetite.” Before he could even finish his sentence, Luke shot him a freezing glare. “Didn’t you just play too? You don’t sweat?” “My sweat doesn’t smell bad, and my girl would never complain about me anyway.” “People who stink can never smell themselves.” Sitting right in the middle of their crossfire, I felt like a helpless referee. Hoping to defuse the tension, I managed to stammer out, “No, really, neither of you smells bad. You both smell fine.” The room went even quieter. To my right, a girl laughed softly. It was the girl who had been sitting next to Luke. She looked at me with an amused smile. “You’re so cute, Mia. No wonder Tucker fell for you. So, how did you get him? Share some tips.” She leaned in slightly, her eyes flickering toward Luke in a teasing way. Luke’s face darkened even further. This had always been a sensitive spot for him during our relationship. Well, to be fair, he had a lot of sensitive spots. But the fact that I had actively pursued Tucker first was something he could never let go of. To quote his drunken rants from my past life: “I put so much effort into seducing you, but he just stood there and you loved him instantly.” It was incredibly dramatic. But he had been genuinely heartbroken. Tucker leaned his head on his hand, looking at me with a fond expression. “She’s a bit clumsy, she doesn’t even know how to flirt properly. The love letter she wrote me even had typos…” A harsh, scraping sound cut him off as Luke’s chair screeched violently against the hardwood floor. The three of us bolted upright, staring at him. 4 Luke’s expression was terrifyingly dark. For a second, I honestly thought he was going to throw a punch at Tucker. But he just stood up, coldly announced he was going to the restroom, and walked out without looking back. Tucker’s friends gradually trickled in, but Luke didn’t return. Tucker was busy introducing me to everyone with fake enthusiasm. His friends, both in my past life and this one, had never really liked me. Tucker hated me interacting with his social circle, and a chubby guy slid right into the empty seat Luke had vacated. He offered a sly smirk, raising his glass toward me. “Hey, Mia. Didn’t think Tucker would actually bring you to hang out with the boys. Let’s have a drink?” The table went quiet for a second, a few guys exchanging knowing, mocking glances. Tucker stiffened, reaching out to block the glass. “She doesn’t drink. Don’t push her.” Before he could finish, a large, wet hand clamped down on the chubby guy’s head. Luke had just walked back in, water still dripping from his freshly washed hands. He gripped the guy’s head and casually twisted it like a Rubik’s cube, looking completely unbothered but utterly imposing. “Hey, buddy. Get up. That’s my seat.” The guy’s face flushed with anger, and he spun around ready to snap. But taking in Luke’s height and build, he swallowed his pride and slunk away to another seat. Tucker cleared his throat. “They just like to joke around. If you don’t like them, I won’t bring you around them next time.” I knew exactly what he was trying to hide. Tucker had a childhood friend with whom he shared a very blurry line. All his friends knew about her. They claimed it was a pure friendship, but they were basically “friends with benefits” in all but name. The girl had pinned after Tucker for years, playing the victim while being sweet to everyone else, and Tucker’s friends always felt the need to defend her honor against me. But instead of holding Tucker accountable, they threw all their resentment at me. Looking at his guilty expression, I chose to say nothing. Beside me, Luke let out a sharp, irritated click of his tongue. “Does that guy even wash his hair? Disgusting. Mia, give me a tissue.” He nudged my elbow, forcefully pulling my attention back to him. The girl next to him quickly offered a napkin, but he ignored her, staring obstinately at me. I pretended not to notice, and the girl slowly retracted her hand. Left with no tissue, Luke, acting like a toddler, began aggressively rubbing his wet hands against his own shirt. The girl’s eye twitched. She evidently had a bit of a germophobia streak, because she stopped trying to talk to him and turned to the guy on her other side instead. As soon as the first dish was served, Luke frowned and slid the plate away. Then, he reached over and dragged a different dish right in front of me. Within minutes, every single one of my favorite foods was lined up in front of my plate. I kept quiet, though a small smile tugged at my lips. Tucker silently placed a piece of beef into my bowl. “Babe, eat up.” I looked at the meat, then quietly nudged it to the side of my plate. Luke’s chest practically puffed up with triumph. He immediately copied Tucker and dropped a piece of pork onto my plate. The temperature around Tucker dropped to sub-zero. I swept both pieces of meat to the side. Luke’s triumphant smirk instantly collapsed into a pout. Now the air around Luke was freezing too. He was throwing another fit. The entire dinner was a painful display of the two of them passive-aggressively competing. The food on my plate kept piling up, but I didn’t touch a single bite. As the dinner wrapped up, I stood up to help one of the girls pack up some leftovers, since she mentioned she had a dog at home. Tucker, who had drank a bit too much, slurred his words as he grabbed my wrist. “Babe… I love you… I love you so much.” He pulled me down, and caught off guard, I ended up landing right on his lap. The room went dead silent. Luke, who had just stood up, turned pale. He shot me a furious, devastated look before spinning around and storming out. I scrambled off Tucker’s lap, grabbed my phone from the table, and ran out after Luke. The night air was crisp and windy. Luke’s long shadow stretched under the streetlamp. I called out to him. “Luke!” He stopped and turned around, trying to look haughty. “Why aren’t you back there with your boyfriend? Why are you chasing me?” “You forgot your phone…” The moment the words left my mouth, his face fell. I sighed. “What are you actually trying to do? You’re the one who said you didn’t want anything to do with me if we got a do-over, yet here you are, crying…” Luke exploded like a firecracker. “Who’s crying?! Who’s crying?! I keep my word! I said I wouldn’t bother you, and I won’t! I’m not going to humiliate myself like that again! You can be with whoever you want, I don’t give a damn!” 5 Luke marched away, his departure meant to look dramatic and final. Except he tripped over his own feet and almost ate asphalt. Tucker stumbled out of the restaurant shortly after, reaching out to grasp my hand. “Babe, let me call a designated driver to take you back first.” His friends helped him into the backseat of the car, and I slid in next to him. The stench of alcohol on him was thick. In the dim cabin, he slowly leaned in, trying to kiss me. With one hand, I pushed him away. With the other, I fished a sparkly hair clip out of the side pocket of the passenger door. “Stop acting, Tucker.” The air in the car turned heavy. Tucker sat up straight, trying to reach for my hand again. “A friend’s girl must have dropped that the last time they hitched a ride, Mia. Let me explain.” “Let’s break up.” The words hung in the silence. The drunken haze cleared from Tucker’s eyes, and he looked at me with a pained, desperate expression. “Why? I haven’t even done anything wrong yet.” Tucker had retained his memories too. I had figured that out early on. When someone starts acting completely out of character, there is always a reason. “But we both know you did do those things, didn’t you?” In our past life, I had caught them in bed together. The sheer disgust of that moment was something I would never be able to scrub from my memory. “But none of that has happened this time. We can fix this…” He pleaded softly, but I simply pushed the door open and stepped out into the night. I hadn’t walked very far before I spotted Luke, crouching in a dark corner of the sidewalk. Our eyes met, and he awkwardly dropped a brick he had been holding. “Aren’t you guys waiting for a driver? Did you have a fight?” I stared at the brick on the ground. Knowing Luke, if Tucker and I had stayed in that car for more than ten minutes, he would have “accidentally” thrown that brick through the window. How was he still this childish? I sighed, deciding to tease him a little. “I came out to buy something.” He sneered. “Buy what?” I stayed quiet, just looking at him. Luke’s face went pale, his eyes widening in horror. “Buy what?! Tell me what you’re buying!” I didn’t need to say another word. His own imagination was already torturing him to death. I found it almost funny. In our past life, he was the official boyfriend but always acted like a jealous mistress. Now, he didn’t even have the status of a side piece, yet he was still standing here demanding answers. Luke was practically vibrating with rage. “You’re not allowed to buy it! You’re not allowed to go! What if he poked holes in it?! Mia!” I looked at him, completely exhausted. “Can you keep your voice down?” His eyes were rimmed with red. “I’ll yell if I want to, and I’ll whisper if I want to! You’re not my girlfriend, you don’t get to tell me what to do!” My head throbbed. Spotting the driver arriving, I turned back and got into Tucker’s car. The moment I climbed back in, Tucker’s eyes lit up. “Mia, I knew you…” I cut him off. “Cabs are hard to find around here. Sir, please take me back to my dorm first. I’ll pay for the ride.” The light in Tucker’s eyes died instantly. I hadn’t told Luke, but no matter how many times we reset, he was the only one I would ever choose. But this stubborn, short-tempered idiot needed a lesson. In the middle of the night, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Seeing Luke’s name on the screen, I let it ring. When it started up again, I sighed and put the receiver to my ear. “Hello?” Luke’s voice was trembling. “What do you want?” He sniffled. “Where’s Tucker? Is he asleep?” I blinked, suddenly realizing why he was calling. Tucker hadn’t returned to the dorm. No wonder Luke was going out of his mind, assuming Tucker and I had checked into a hotel. But since he had no right to interrogate me, he had to resort to these clumsy, indirect questions. “What does that have to do with you?” He stammered for a while, completely unable to find a valid excuse. “I can’t sleep. Tell Tucker to say goodnight to me.” I almost laughed out loud. He was desperately trying to verify if I was with Tucker. “He’s asleep,” I lied. The next second, I heard Luke grinding his teeth so hard it sounded like they would shatter. “Then you say goodnight to me.” “You’re crazy,” I muttered, hanging up.

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1 Ever since I was a child, I have had a bizarre biting fixation. Ross, my childhood best friend, was the only one who knew, and he willingly offered himself up to satisfy my cravings. When we were little, it was his wrists. As we grew older, my teeth migrated to his shoulders and the curve of his neck. [Don’t you think he absolutely detests this?] The cold, mechanical voice echoed in my head just as I pulled back from Ross’s shoulder. [Look at how tightly his brow is furrowed, how fast his breathing is. He looks like he’s about to cry from pure disgust.] I looked down. Ross’s eyelashes were indeed damp. He kept his head lowered, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of his jeans. [He’s practically dying of revulsion from your drool, yet he still hasn’t pushed you away. The Male Lead is way too nice.] It turned out my childhood best friend was the male lead of some story. And the female lead wasn’t me. [If you don’t kick this biting habit soon, just wait until the fated female lead transfers here. You’ll have nothing left to chew on but raw pork.] So, I resolved to break the habit Ross had enabled for over a decade. But when the craving hit me like a physical wave in class, my desk mate, Mary, kindly offered his forearm. “Don’t hold it in,” Mary whispered. “Just bite me.” I was just about to lean in when I caught sight of Ross standing a few yards away, his face deathly pale. … My head was spinning when that mocking, mechanical voice first broke into my thoughts. I had just lifted my head from Ross’s shoulder. “Finished?” His voice was incredibly hoarse, so rough that I barely recognized it. “Yeah,” I murmured. The mocking voice in my head grew louder. [I’m talking to you, NPC. Do you even hear me?] [Don’t you think he hates this?] I frowned, arguing back in my mind. No way. We’ve been doing this since we were toddlers. Ross has never once said no. Realizing I could hear it, the System perked up instantly. [Of course he hasn’t. The Male Lead is gentle, kind, and soft-hearted. He’s not going to say it to your face, and your wooden head is too dense to notice.] [Look at how his shoulders are shaking, how fast he’s breathing. He’s holding back tears because of how gross this is.] I looked down, and my heart sank. Ross’s long eyelashes were indeed glistening with moisture. He kept his head lowered, silently pulling his collar up to cover the damp, reddish teeth marks on his shoulder. His knuckles were stark white. He was trembling. Sensing my gaze, Ross looked up, his dark eyes searching mine. “What’s wrong? Was it not enough?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. Wetness clung to the corners of his eyes, and he looked like he was enduring some unspeakable torment. My mind was a chaotic mess while the System kept up its relentless chatter. [He is literally gagging on your spit and he still asks if you want more. What a saint.] [Look at what you did to his shoulder. Are you a stray dog or what?] I clenched my fists, feeling a sudden pang of hurt. I didn’t bite that hard. The System scoffed. [That’s not the point. The point is that you’re both adults now, and you’re still chewing on the Male Lead. You aren’t the Female Lead. You’re occupying a space that isn’t yours. Understand?] Ross, seeing me space out, waved a hand in front of my face. “Kate?” I snapped out of it and forced a stiff laugh. “Thanks, Ross. I feel a lot better. I should get going.” He sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the blanket over his knees. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay. I won’t walk you out then.” The System translated his words instantly. [Yeah, go away. He’s sick of looking at you. He doesn’t even want to walk you to the door. He wants you gone.] The System was incredibly harsh, but its words stung because they felt plausible. I didn’t look at Ross again as I grabbed my bag and left. On my way home, the System explained my reality. I was a minor character in a high school romance novel. My childhood friend, Ross, was the male lead. The female lead was a gorgeous transfer student who would arrive next week. The System took immense pleasure in my misery. [Listen to me, NPC. You need to stay away from him. He only told you to bite him because he felt sorry for your condition. He was just being polite, and you actually took him up on it for years. If you don’t cure this fixation before the actual female lead shows up, you’ll have to buy raw meat from the butcher to satisfy your teeth.] 2 My mood had never been worse. Usually, satisfying my urge left me in a state of calm. I had suffered from this compulsive biting habit since childhood, and before I could even gather the courage to tell my parents, Ross had caught me. It happened back in preschool. He had grabbed my chubby little wrist, ready to drag me to the teacher. “Kate, which kid bit you? Tell me and I’ll go beat them up.” I stared at the deep red teeth marks on my arm, trying to hide behind my backpack. “I did it myself.” I didn’t know why, but my gums were always itching. It was a phantom ache that ran straight from my teeth to my heart, a sensation so overwhelming it made me want to cry. But I didn’t dare tell my parents. I had watched a horror movie the night before about monsters that bit people, and the priest had chased them with a wooden sword. I was terrified of being treated like a monster. Ross stared at my arm for a long, quiet moment. Then, he held out his own wrist. “You bit yourself until you bled. That hurts.” He looked at me with fierce determination. “Next time your teeth itch, just bite me. Kate, I’m a boy. I’m not afraid of pain.” And so, he became my chew toy, all the way from preschool to high school. The arrangement worked until one winter when Ross broke his arm playing basketball. His left arm was locked in a thick, hard cast. I tapped the plaster, looking up at him. “Does it hurt?” Instead of answering, Ross reached up and slowly unzipped his high-neck pullover, exposing the pale, smooth skin of his neck. By then, he had grown tall, his shoulders broadening and his jawline sharpening into something dangerously handsome. His skin was always a beautiful, cool ivory. “Kate, bite here today. The high collar will hide it.” My eyes widened. Looking at his flushed ears, I shook my head frantically. “Biting your neck? That makes me look like an actual vampire. Absolutely not. What about your other arm?” He cleared his throat, his gaze drifting away. “My right hand is for writing, and exams are next week.” That winter, the selfless Ross sacrificed his neck. There was less flesh on his neck than his arm, but it was softer. His forearms were no longer the soft, chubby limbs of our childhood. They were corded with lean muscle that sometimes made my teeth ache. Besides, Ross had a tiny, dark mole right below his ear. Whenever I bit him there, the skin around it would flush a deep, beautiful pink. I eventually grew to love it. It was only when his mother questioned why he was wearing turtlenecks in the middle of summer that he negotiated a shift from his neck to his shoulder. [Do you know why he stopped letting you bite his wrist?] the System asked. My chest felt tight, and I ignored it. The System didn’t care. It kept rambling. [Because the female lead is going to put her hair tie around his wrist. You know what a hair tie on a guy’s wrist means in high school, right?] I covered my ears in annoyance. I don’t care. Shut up! The System seemed taken aback by my sudden outburst. [Whoa. Is our NPC childhood friend turning into a jealous villainess?] While it was busy lecturing me on the tragic endings of a hundred different jealous ex-best friends, the doorbell rang. Ross stood on the porch, holding a small plate. As he grew older, Ross had become increasingly quiet and reserved. He rarely spoke to anyone, but he was always gentle with me. His mother loved baking, and since middle school, Ross had made it a daily ritual to bring me whatever she made. “My mom made blueberry cheesecake,” he said, holding out the plate. I stared at the cheesecake, harboring a tiny sliver of hope. Ross has been good to me our entire lives. He wouldn’t throw me under the bus for some new girl. Those villainess endings won’t apply to me. The System scoffed. [You are completely blind. He is exhausted of you. If his mother didn’t force him to bring this over, do you think he’d even show his face?] [Didn’t you notice how heavy his breathing was when you bit him earlier? He was holding back his anger. If you don’t believe me, test him.] Fine. I would test him. When I reached out to take the plate, I deliberately leaned closer, letting my fingers brush against his. The moment our skin touched, Ross froze completely. A split second later, the plate slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. He took a sharp step backward, his chest heaving. “Sorry, Kate. My hand slipped.” He quickly knelt to clean up the ruined cake, his head bowed. The forced smile on my face stiffened. The System laughed in triumph. [See? He didn’t even look at you. Look how fast he’s cleaning that up. He can’t wait to run away from your house.] I looked down at the top of Ross’s head. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his shoulders looked incredibly broad. He had grown so much, and we were no longer those innocent kids from preschool. “Ross, thank your mom for me,” I said, my voice hollow. “But, I’m trying to lose some weight. Tell her she doesn’t need to send any more sweets.” He stopped cleaning and looked up, his brow furrowed. “Lose weight? You’re not heavy at all. Why would you diet?” I was in a terrible mood and gave a dismissive shrug. “I just don’t want to eat them anymore. Give them to someone else.” When Ross left, he looked incredibly tense. [It’s a psychological issue,] the System advised. [Go see a therapist and get cured. Stop clinging to him. Look how distracted he was when he left. You’re completely ruining his peace of mind.] I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling in silence. The next morning, Ross and I walked to school together. We walked one behind the other, my mind a complete mess. The System had spent the night playing a slideshow of tragic fates of childhood friends in my dreams, leaving me with a lingering sense of dread. “Kate, are you…” Ross suddenly stopped and turned around. Before I could register it, I crashed straight into his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around my waist to steady me. Feeling the firm grip of his hands on my hips, I looked up. Ross’s face was completely rigid. 3 We were so close I could see the rapid flutter of his eyelashes. I saw his pupils contract, a flash of pure panic crossing his dark eyes. [His breathing is getting heavy again. His face is red because he’s so frustrated with you. Back off,] the System chimed in. I scrambled out of his embrace, taking a step back. “Are you… out of it this morning because your urge is acting up again?” Ross asked, clearing his throat after a long silence. He shouldn’t have brought it up. The moment he did, my mouth began to water. My eyes instinctively locked onto the small brown mole on his neck. I pressed my lips together. “No. I’m fine.” Ross lowered his gaze and nodded slowly. After that, the silence between us became deafening. I had never realized how long the walk to school actually was. Ross had always been a quiet guy, but I used to chatter endlessly to fill the gaps. Now, I didn’t have the energy. The System had convinced me that Ross hated me. He hated my touch, he hated being bitten, and he hated my voice. And looking at him now, I realized his mood really was terrible. Several times, he looked like he wanted to say something, his jaw clenching in irritation. I quickened my pace, wanting to end the torture. “Kate, if you need to…” Ross started, but the System cut in. [What a saint. Even though he finds you repulsive, he’s still offering himself up to help with your disease.] I waved my hands frantically. “I don’t need to. Not at all. I’ve been feeling much better lately.” Ross’s dark eyes studied me for a few seconds before his lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay. But let me know if you do.” I muttered under my breath, “I won’t. Not anymore.” It was only when I walked into the classroom that the suffocating weight on my chest lifted slightly. My desk mate, Mary, looked up from his textbook, glancing between me and Ross, who was walking in right behind me. “Did you guys have a fight?” Mary asked. Ross’s expression was so dark that even Mary, who usually noticed nothing but calculus, could feel the tension. I rested my chin on my palm, sighing. “No. Hey, Mary, do you ever read romance novels?” He flipped a page of his practice exam. “Never. But the girls in the back say Ross looks like he walked straight out of one.” That made me feel even worse. Even my classmates saw him as a male lead. We had just returned to the classroom after running laps in gym class, and I was still talking to Mary. I asked him if he thought I could be the female lead of a story. He stared at me for two seconds. “Most female leads aren’t this dumb.” I pinched his arm in annoyance. As we were messing around, a shadow fell over my desk. Two insulated tumblers were placed before us. Ross was standing there, his face clouded with an icy, undeniable irritation. “I brought you some fresh juice this morning,” he said, his voice flat. The System sighed. [The poor guy has been treated like your servant since childhood.] I took one of the cups and took a long sip, trying to figure out how to tell him that he didn’t need to bring me drinks anymore. The classroom was quiet, save for the scratching of pens. Suddenly, Mary cleared his throat. “I think you grabbed the wrong cup.” I looked down. I had just drank more than half of Ross’s personal tumbler. 4 I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. [You really are determined to play the villainess, aren’t you?] the System remarked. [Using his cup? That is classic manipulative behavior.] Terrified that Ross would think the same, I grabbed the tumbler, intending to wash it for him. He immediately stopped me, his hand catching mine. “It’s fine. Just finish it. I’ll wash it later.” He stood close, and I could feel his gaze burning against my lips. When I tried to take another sip, his intense, scorching gaze followed the movement of my mouth. I couldn’t swallow another drop. The System kept badgering me. [He’s watching your every sip. Look how red his face is getting. He’s furious.] [You think he won’t let you wash it out of kindness? He’s going to throw that cup in the trash the second you look away.] Sure enough, the next day, Ross was carrying a completely different tumbler. It felt like a cold weight had settled in my chest. For the first time, the realization hit me with brutal clarity. Ross, the boy who had tolerated my strange habit for over a decade, actually detested me. He hated my touch. He hated everything about me. He would rather throw away something I had touched than use it again. So, when the final bell rang, I decided to slip away early, just like the System advised. By the time Ross walked down our street, I was up on the second-floor balcony hanging up my laundry. With his backpack slung over one shoulder, he looked like a model walking down the quiet sidewalk. Even from a distance, I could tell he looked miserable. He’s walking toward my house. Is he coming to confront me about why I didn’t wait for him? What should I say? The System scoffed. [He’s glad you’re gone. Why would he be looking for you?] I distracted myself by hanging up my clothes. The hangers clattered against the metal rack. Down below, Ross froze. He looked up. Our eyes met, and I froze with a hanger in my hand. “Kate, why did you leave without…” His voice cut off abruptly. His eyes locked onto the black lace bra I had just hung up, and his face instantly flushed a violent red. Without finishing his sentence, he spun around and practically sprinted back to his house. The System was howling with laughter. [What did I tell you? Look at how panicked he was to get away from you. He literally ran.] I wanted to cry. I hadn’t bitten anyone in two days, and the itch in my gums was growing unbearable, mixing with the heavy ache in my chest. After finishing the laundry, I went to my room, bit hard into my own forearm to soothe the ache, and booked an appointment with a specialist for Sunday. The next morning, Ross was waiting at my front door. He walked beside me in silence. The morning traffic, the ringing of bicycle bells, and the chatter of people getting breakfast all faded into a dull hum against our thick silence. “Why did you leave without me yesterday?” Ross finally asked as we neared the school gates. “Mary’s mom picked him up and offered me a ride,” I lied, using my desk mate as a shield. The air around us seemed to turn freezing. “When did you two get so close?” Ross’s brows drew together, his dark eyes swirling with an unreadable emotion. I pressed my lips together. “We’re desk mates. We sit next to each other all day. It’s only natural.” Another heavy silence descended. When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably hoarser. “It’s been three days since you last bit me. You must be struggling. Come to my room after school today. I…” Usually, I could only go a day and a half at most before needing to use Ross to soothe my teeth. It had now been three full days. 5 I forced a smile, trying to sound casual. “No need, Ross. I’m actually almost cured. I don’t need to bite anyone anymore.” Maybe I was imagining things, but Ross’s face seemed to lose all its color. He slowly came to a halt, staring at me blankly. “Cured? How could you suddenly be cured?” I nodded. “I spoke to a therapist. It’s getting much better. Thank you for all your help before.” Ross stood frozen. He didn’t say another word, but the air around us felt like it had dropped below freezing. Since he wasn’t moving, I stood there awkwardly too, until I spotted Mary walking a few yards ahead. I immediately called out to him. “Mary! Hey! What a coincidence, you’re on your way to school too?” Mary stopped and looked back at me like I had lost my mind. I tried to jog over to him, but a firm grip suddenly caught my arm. Ross’s lips were entirely pale. “When did you see a therapist?” he demanded. I’m seeing one this Sunday, I answered silently. But before I could speak, Ross’s eyes dropped to my exposed wrist. There was a deep, angry red teeth mark printed into my skin. I had bitten myself last night. I hurriedly pulled my sleeve down, shook off his grip, and muttered that I had to catch up with Mary before running ahead. Escaping that suffocating atmosphere allowed me to breathe again. Still, I couldn’t help but look back. Ross was still standing on the sidewalk, his head bowed. He hadn’t moved an inch. I couldn’t see his face, only the pale curve of his neck. The System was ecstatic. [Look at the two NPCs chatting away. Did you just tell the Male Lead you were cured?] [Look how happy he is. He’s so thrilled he doesn’t even know how to walk anymore. He’s just standing there like a statue.] I looked away. Mary pushed up his glasses. “What was that about a therapist?” I pulled up my sleeve to show him the bite mark and explained my condition. True to his nature as a study machine, Mary spent the entire walk analyzing the biological and psychological triggers of compulsive biting. Meanwhile, the System was shouting details of the fated romance into my ear. By the time we got through the morning, my brain was completely fried. At lunch, a shadow fell over my desk. I looked up to see Ross back at his desk, but a fresh cup of juice had been placed in front of me. Usually, he would take my cup home to wash it and bring it back the next day. Since I had left early yesterday, this was a brand-new cup. I glanced over at his desk. Our eyes met, and he immediately snapped his head to look out the window. But I noticed the new cup on his desk matched mine perfectly. They were a pair. I finished the juice with a heavy heart. Just as I stood up to wash the cup, Ross walked past my desk again. He seemed to be in a terrible mood. Usually, he would wait for me to finish so he could wash both cups, but today he didn’t touch mine. He just walked past. But he walked incredibly slowly. It was so slow that even Mary, who was busy with a practice test, noticed and looked up with a frown. I couldn’t help but call out to him. “Ross.” He stopped and turned. His face was still carefully blank, but there was a faint, hopeful spark in his dark eyes. [Don’t tell me you’re making him wash your cup again,] the System hissed. [Be a decent person for once. Stop taking advantage of his kindness.] 6 [He has been catering to your whims for years,] the System scolded me. [The Female Lead transfers here next week. You need to back off.] My fingers tightened around the tumbler. “I brought my own water bottle today. Thanks for the juice, but you don’t have to bring me any starting tomorrow.” The ambient noise of the classroom seemed to fade away. Ross stared at me, the tiny spark in his eyes dying out, replaced by a cold, turbulent confusion. “You don’t need it ever again?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. I washed the tumbler and handed it back to him. He took it, his voice barely a whisper. “Kate, did I do something to upset you?” It was so quiet, yet every word cut through the air. I didn’t know how to respond. The System said he hated me, but his voice sounded so incredibly vulnerable. “No.” “Then why are you trying to get cured? And… why did you lie to me?” I took a quiet breath. “I just want to be normal, Ross.” His beautiful brows knitted tightly. “I never thought you weren’t normal. It’s just a little habit.” The System immediately started buzzing in my ear, telling me to stop talking to him. It pointed out how he was frowning again. [Look at how much you’ve exhausted this poor guy. He has been walking around covered in your teeth marks for years and he still calls it normal. Who in their right mind lets someone chew on them?] [Shut your mouth. Can’t you see how irritated he is?] My head throbbed because I knew the System was right. Ross’s dark, heavy mood was practically suffocating. “You said it yourself, it’s a habit. Only you think it’s fine,” I said softly. “When I told Mary about it this morning, he said it was definitely an issue and helped me analyze what kind of psychological trigger it might be.” The screech of a chair dragging against the floor was violently loud. Ross’s face went completely dark. “Why would you tell him?” his voice dropped, turning sharp. “You promised this was a secret between the two of us.” He took a step closer, his towering shadow completely enveloping me. My heart skipped a beat, and I took a step back. “I only told him I have a biting urge. I didn’t mention you or what we do. Don’t worry.” His breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling sharply. “So all of this… is because of Mary?” The warning bell for the next period rang, cutting his words short. By the end of the day, Ross was standing by my desk before the teacher even dismissed us. Mary packed up his books at lightning speed and fled the room like his life depended on it. I followed Ross out of the school in silence. The air between us felt heavier than ever. Ross had never been a big talker, but lately, he had gone completely mute.

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After senior year exams, my online boyfriend suggested we finally meet in person. I replied nervously, “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed when you see me…” After all, my grades were average, and my looks were nothing special. I didn’t feel like a match for Christopher Maxwell, the school’s star athlete and academic ace. But he sent a voice message, a soft chuckle in my ear. “Silly girl, I’ve had a pretty good idea who you are all along.” “Just you wait. Tomorrow, I’ve got a surprise for you.” I spent the entire night a bundle of nerves and secret delight, rushing to our agreed-upon meeting spot first thing the next morning. Only to find him, surrounded by cheering students and smiling teachers, all eyes on him, Declaring his love to my family’s housekeeper’s daughter. 1 “Get together! Get together! Get together!” Students cheered, circling the two of them. Even the teachers were all smiles, clearly thrilled for them. Finally, Sophia Reed smiled, her lips pressed together, as she accepted the roses and diamond bracelet Christopher held out. “Thank you, Chris.” She looked up into Christopher’s smiling eyes. “I accept.” Instantly, the crowd erupted, swirling around the pair. He was the sole heir to one of Fairhaven’s most prominent families, the school’s golden boy, a living legend. She was a small-town girl from humble beginnings, yet the top student, the pure and sweet campus darling. A real-life prince and Cinderella story. It was impossibly romantic. Only I stood apart, unremarkable. Even though I’d carefully dressed up today just for Christopher, the most I got was a passing classmate’s casual remark: “Hey, Audrey, that dress looks pretty good on you today.” They complimented the dress, not me. Two other classmates quickly pulled her away. “Why are you even talking to her?” “Wearing that on a day like this… she’s probably doing it on purpose.” “It’s pathetic, honestly. Miss Audrey Finch, trying her absolute hardest to compete with her own housekeeper’s daughter, and still losing every single time. If I were her parents, I’d be furious.” “Forget her. Look! Chris and Sophia are holding hands!” “Wow, this is truly a love story for the ages! I heard Chris secretly crushed on Sophia for a whole year, waiting until after exams to confess. I’m so jealous.” “You guys are just finding out? I noticed ages ago. Whenever Sophia went to the campus grove to study or fed the stray cats outside the dorms, I’d see Chris hiding in the shadows, secretly watching her.” “Really? That’s so sweet! See? Being from a good family doesn’t mean anything. Chris’s taste isn’t that shallow.” “Exactly. Some people, like a total weirdo, deliberately walk past Chris’s class every other day, or go to the track to watch him play ball… and still can’t get his attention.” They glanced at me as they spoke. I clutched the hem of my skirt, lowered my head, and turned to leave. All the words I’d prepared for Christopher remained stuck in my throat. It seemed I had simply misunderstood. All year, Christopher had been my online boyfriend, listening to me, helping me vent my frustrations, even tutoring me to improve my grades, all because… He’d mistaken me for Sophia. 2 Today was graduation. After we took our class photo, Liam, the class president, suggested a dinner party. “Thanks to Sophia, Chris is footing the bill for our class tonight!” Immediately, applause erupted. Sophia blushed, accepting everyone’s congratulations and envy. She then walked over to me, her voice soft and hesitant. “Audrey, you’ll come to dinner tonight, won’t you?” “Since the exam results came out, you haven’t spoken to me. I don’t know what I did to upset you. But Chris and I are heading to Northwood University in two months, and who knows when we’ll see each other again.” “Would you… be willing to make up with me?” The class fell silent. Everyone watched me, their gazes hard to read. I gathered my things and stood up. “You all go have fun. I won’t be joining.” With that, I turned and walked out of the classroom. Behind me, low whispers began again. “Seriously, what’s her deal?” “The top student is practically begging her to make up, what’s she playing at?” “Total princess syndrome, I guess. Thinks her family’s money makes her special, always picking on Sophia.” I quickened my pace, practically fleeing. It wasn’t until I reached the school gates that I squatted down, hugging my knees tightly. On my phone, Christopher’s chat was still pinned at the top of my messaging app. His profile picture was a little orange cat I’d drawn for him myself. The same stray I always fed outside the dorms. He’d told me I had real artistic talent, that I was the best artist he’d ever seen. He’d even asked me: When we officially get together, will you draw us a pair of matching profile pictures? I actually had them ready. I’d planned to send them to him today. But now… I gritted my teeth, found the hand-drawn avatars in my gallery, and along with his contact, hit the delete button. I’d just pretend those beautiful three hundred-plus days were nothing but a teenage dream. The dream was over. Everything was back to how it was. 3 When I arrived home, Mom was on the phone in the living room. “Sophia, have you decided between Northwood and Eastbrook yet?” “Excellent, excellent. When school starts, I’ll send someone to drive you and your mother there for orientation.” “Don’t be silly, you’re practically family. You’re so brilliant, I’d love nothing more than to adopt you as my goddaughter.” Only after she hung up did Mom look up, her gaze chilling as she swept over me. She snorted. “You actually have the nerve to come back.” “I hired elite tutors for you for an entire year, spent hundreds of thousands on tuition alone! And what did you get? Eight points above the minimum admission score, a full eighty points lower than Sophia.” “How much worry have I endured for you all these years? And you? You’re heartless, going out dressed so provocatively. You might not be ashamed, but I am!” Maria Reed, Sophia’s mother, emerged from the kitchen. Seeing Mom lash out at me again, she smiled gently, trying to soothe her. “Please don’t be angry, Mrs. Finch. Perhaps Miss Audrey simply isn’t cut out for academics.” “You could try finding other talents she has. I think Miss Audrey is quite good at drawing; maybe she could go to art school.” Mom’s face, however, darkened further. “The prestigious Finch family of Fairhaven, spending hundreds of thousands just to produce an art student?” “If that got out, how would I ever hold my head high again?” She finished, glaring fiercely at me. “What are you staring at? Get upstairs and study! Whether you like it or not, you’re taking that prep course!” I silently went upstairs and closed my bedroom door. My chest felt numb. I seemed to be growing immune to Mom’s words. Her tenderness towards Sophia, she used to show me that, too. But… Ever since she found out Dad was seeing someone else three years ago, she’d changed. Dad was cunning, though; she still hadn’t managed to figure out who the other woman was. Only once, when Dad was drunk, did I hear him mumble: “Don’t worry, your daughter is my daughter too…” That’s how Mom learned the other woman also had a daughter. From that day on, Mom often said to me: “Audrey, you have to work hard, understand?” “You are a legitimate Finch daughter. You absolutely cannot be outdone by that outsider.” “From today on, besides piano, dance, and chess, you also need to bring up your academic grades. Get to first in class, first in the grade, first in the whole city!” “Otherwise, your mother and I will truly have no hope left.” I was young then, not fully understanding what was happening between Mom and Dad. But for Mom’s expectations, I gritted my teeth and gave it my all. Initially, after Mom poured money into my tutoring, my grades did improve significantly. Until two years ago, when Sophia and her mother came to live with us. 4 Maria Reed was the housekeeper Mom had carefully chosen. But Maria had been divorced years ago, raising her daughter alone. To ensure she could focus on caring for my daily needs, Mom invited Sophia to live with us as well. “That girl is your age, but her grades are much better than yours.” “From now on, you’ll study with her. Ask her if you don’t understand something.” Mom even allowed Sophia to sit in on my elite tutoring sessions. But whenever the tutor explained problems to me, Sophia would always chime in, looking troubled: “Teacher, I already know all these problems. Can you teach us something else?” “Our time is so precious. I can just help Audrey with these basic concepts later.” “Teacher, I think English and literature rely more on daily accumulation; we can just memorize more on our own. Could you teach us some math and physics competition problems?” No teacher dislikes a student who is bright, grasps things quickly, and excels academically. So, the one-on-one sessions, originally tailored for me, gradually shifted their focus to Sophia. I tried to voice my concerns to Mom. But Mom looked at me, exasperated. “Audrey, what is wrong with you?” “Why is it that Sophia learns these problems instantly, but you don’t?” “Are you even paying attention in class?” To make me focus on studying, Mom confiscated all my toys and pretty clothes, banning me from all recreational activities. She even gave away my Ragdoll kitten. Gradually, my daily life, apart from eating and sleeping, consisted only of studying, doing problems, and reviewing. I even swallowed my pride and asked Sophia for help with problems. But she would just scribble down an answer, then tell me earnestly, “Audrey, there are no shortcuts to learning.” “If you don’t understand, just practice more. As long as you try hard, you’ll eventually get it.” And so, my grades never significantly improved. Mom’s outbursts of anger towards me became more frequent. Finally, during the summer between junior and senior year, I developed severe academic burnout. When Mom found out, she slapped me hard. “Worthless! I spent so much money, just for you to give up on yourself?!” “Sophia came from a small-town school and she’s doing so well. And you? Where have all your years of schooling gone?” “If it weren’t for you, I would have divorced your father ages ago. Why would I stay here and suffer so much?” In an emotional breakdown, I posted an anonymous confessional on the school forum. Why do I try so hard and still can’t do well, still can’t satisfy Mom? I don’t deserve to be Mom’s daughter. Would Mom be free if I just died? Christopher appeared then. Just as I posted it and hid under my covers, silently crying, He sent me his first private message: What problems don’t you understand? Send them to me. 5 His appearance was like a ray of light in my darkness. At first, I didn’t know the person tutoring me every night was him. It wasn’t until one time when a teacher projected his exemplary essay on the board that I recognized his handwriting. In that moment, I was overwhelmed. After all, he was known throughout school as the elusive golden boy. But online, he would joke with me. Silly girl, I’ve explained this problem to you twice already. If you still don’t get it a third time, I’m going to have to punish you. I blushed on my end of the phone, asking him how he planned to punish me. On his end, he was typing for a long time before sending a voice message. His voice was deep and mellow: “It’s a secret for now. I’ll punish you when we meet.” Ambiguous feelings, like paint unexpectedly dripping into water, Spread and colored my entire senior year. But facing him, I couldn’t help but feel insecure. After all, Mom always said I wasn’t smart enough. And not as pretty as Sophia. A wildflower from the countryside could shine so brightly, While I, a hothouse flower, failed to impress anyone. Because of this, I didn’t dare reveal my identity. Yet I couldn’t resist sharing little snippets of my daily life with him. For example: Today during lunch break, I went to the campus grove to study vocabulary again, but I accidentally fell asleep. ? His tone was a bit stern: Could you be any more careless? What if you ran into trouble? Or: I came online late today because I met up with a good friend. Oh really? A boy or a girl? He even added a warning emoji. I couldn’t help but smile at my screen, sending him a picture of me feeding sausages to the little orange cat. It’s the kitten from outside our dorms. He was silent for a long time, then sent a message. Very pretty. ? Your hands, they’re very pretty. I secretly delighted in this, and we made a date: after exams, I’d let him hold my hand. But I never expected that when that day finally came, The hand he affectionately held, Was someone else’s.

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When Hugo lost his phone, I tracked it down, but the woman who found it demanded proof. I entered my birthday, certain it would work. “Incorrect passcode.” She eyed me with suspicion. Assuming he’d changed it, I tried my fingerprint. Failed again. I stood frozen on the pavement. After five years together, every password, every setting, was tied to me. Growing impatient, the woman asked his emergency contact. “Me,” I whispered, naming myself. Last month, after I was stalked, Hugo had programmed every emergency shortcut to dial my number. Yet the woman only sneered, tucking the phone away. “You look decent, but you’re trying to scam me.” I snatched the phone back, pale with disbelief. She grabbed my wrist as it began to ring. Seeing the screen, she smirked. “See? The real owner’s calling.” I looked up to see my best friend Sherry holding her phone to her ear nearby. A flood of buried doubts finally found their answers. After we sent the lady away, Hugo rushed over to join us. Seeing my pale, rigid face, he grabbed my wrist. His voice carried a defensive chill. “What is wrong? Did that woman give you a hard time?” I ignored his question. I just held up his phone and asked with dead calm. “What is your passcode?” Hugo stiffened. His eyes instinctively darted toward Sherry. Then he let out an awkward, helpless laugh. “Aria, you’re misunderstanding.” “We were playing Truth or Dare last time. I lost, so the dare was to change my emergency info to the person sitting next to me.” “When did you two go out together?” “Start of the month.” As if terrified I would overthink it, he quickly added, “You were so busy then. We didn’t want to bother you.” My fingers gave a violent twitch. What was I busy with? I was busy planning our wedding. And Hugo was afraid of bothering me. It was as if this marriage was a one woman show. Sherry grabbed Hugo’s arm, playfully scolding him to change his settings back. “I told you to change it! Why are you still using my info?” “I forgot. Didn’t think it was a big deal.” “How could you forget something like this!” The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, bickering back and forth. They looked so incredibly familiar, like a pair of longtime partners tackling a minor inconvenience together. And I was the inconvenience. I took a step closer. Hugo was in the middle of resetting his lock screen. His thumb hovered over the keypad, hesitating before punching in 0523. Sherry went dead silent. She shot a quick glance at me before elbowing him. “Wrong. 0523 is my dog’s birthday!” “Aria’s birthday is June 7th.” Hugo quickly erased the numbers and typed the right ones. He offered a careless, unapologetic chuckle. “We just celebrated Peanut’s birthday. Guess it got mixed up in my head.” My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. Five years together, and he remembered a dog’s birthday. But not mine. My eyes stung, the rims turning hot and red. Hugo noticed, and a flash of pure irritation crossed his face. “It’s not a big deal, Aria. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.” “Why are you yelling at her!” Sherry stepped right in front of me, shielding me. With just that single sentence, Hugo instantly surrendered, as docile as a cat having its fur stroked the right way. My throat felt like swallowing broken glass. It hurt too much to force a single word out. I stayed completely silent, turned around, and got into the car. “Aria, what’s wrong?” Sherry leaned down to peer through the window, her eyes practically overflowing with worry. “I’m not feeling well. I’m heading back.” “Then go home and get some rest. Sherry has wanted to see this movie for weeks, so I’m going to take her.” Hugo’s voice was light, but every syllable pierced my eardrums like needles. He didn’t ask where I hurt. He didn’t offer to take me home. The only thing he cared about was Sherry’s feelings. “Okay. Have fun.” I answered instantly. Hugo looked taken aback, freezing in place for a split second. I had always been territorial. I never allowed him to hang out alone with other girls, even if that girl was my best friend. Once upon a time, we would have had a screaming match over this, turning into two red eyed beasts refusing to yield an inch. But right now, I didn’t spare him another word. I just drove away. On the way home, my mom called. “Sweetie, the groom’s suit just arrived at the boutique. Should your dad and I go with you to check it out?” Because Hugo was perpetually absent, my own father had been stepping in to try on the groom’s clothes. Enduring the bewildered, pitying stares of the boutique staff, I had held this charade together for three months. But all of it had become a pathetic joke. “No.” “Mom, please cancel the wedding dress.” There were a few seconds of heavy silence on the other end. It was as if she immediately understood. She didn’t pry or ask why. She just asked softly if I had thought it through. I managed a weak smile. “I have.” After hanging up, I drove straight to the clinic. My wrist was throbbing with a dull ache from the tug of war with the lady earlier. The doctor checked it over and diagnosed a soft tissue sprain. While waiting for the medicated patch, I scrolled through my feed. Sherry had just posted an update. Wow, so lucky today! Won a prize at the arcade with my bestie. Attached was a photo of two matching phone charms. A couples set. Hugo had happily attached his to his phone. In the mirror selfie, the two of them were grinning, the long charms dangling below their hands. He had even swapped out the phone case I bought him because it didn’t match the charm. By the time my wrist was treated, a massive downpour had started outside. I tried to hail a ride app for half an hour, but the queue was hopeless. I texted my location to Hugo. Ten minutes later, he replied with a few brief words. Wait at the entrance. That wait lasted over two hours. I curled into myself, standing by the clinic doors. My pants were soaked through from the knees down. The rain had washed the adhesive right off my medicated patch. Hugo finally called. Through the speaker, Sherry’s laughter rang out like silver bells. “Aria, we brought Peanut to the groomers! I sent you a picture, look how cute he is.” I opened the photo. Hugo and Sherry were pressed close together, holding a wet puppy, smiling brightly. The perfect picture of domestic bliss. Meanwhile, miles away, I looked like a drowned rat. My lips were purple from the cold. “Hugo, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” The line went dead quiet for a second before his annoyed voice snapped back. “Aria, you are such a buzzkill. Sherry is just trying to share something fun with you.” “Don’t say that, Hugo. Can’t you see Aria is upset?” Sherry quickly interrupted. “I’m just looking out for you, Sherry. If you let her act like this, she’s only going to bully you worse.” “It’s fine, really.” The freezing rain lashed against my skin, but in that moment, I couldn’t tell if my body or my heart was colder. I shivered violently, biting down on a sob as I asked. “Hugo. Tell me exactly how I am bullying her.” The heavy rain distorted my voice, making Hugo think I was crying. He sounded completely exasperated. “Can you just drop the drama? Sherry is your best friend. Can you really not tolerate her?” I couldn’t remember how many times he had picked a fight with me over Sherry. In college, he fought with me because I refused to help Sherry cheat on a final. After graduation, he fought with me because I didn’t want Sherry tagging along on our anniversary trip. I even joked with him once that if we ever broke up, it would definitely be because of Sherry. He had laughed it off back then. I never expected it to be a prophecy. “Hugo, we’re done.” With that, I hung up. My phone instantly started ringing again. When I didn’t answer, Sherry’s number popped up. They took turns calling, back to back. Their ringtones were identical. It was the ending theme of an anime Sherry loved. She had shared it with me once, swearing she would use it as a matching ringtone with her future soulmate. She had been single for so long back then, and I didn’t want her to feel left out. I had even joked, “If no guy is lucky enough to appreciate it, I’ll match it with you.” She had just smiled, saying nothing. I hadn’t understood that smile back then. But I understood it now. She was laughing at me. Laughing at how utterly blind I was while she stole my life. A tidal wave of absolute humiliation crashed over me. I clamped a hand over my mouth, stumbled over to a tree, and violently threw up. Bile and rainwater soaked the front of my shirt. I staggered away, my foot slipping on the wet pavement, and crashed hard onto the ground. Maybe out of sheer pity, a passing taxi pulled over right in front of me. Once I was inside, my phone buzzed. A text from Hugo. Aria, stop throwing these tantrums. You made Sherry cry! My wrist was inflamed. My stomach was throbbing with a dull, strange ache. There wasn’t a single dry or clean spot on my entire body. But none of that mattered compared to a few of Sherry’s tears. Where are you? I went to the clinic but you’re not here. Why were you at the clinic anyway? What’s wrong? My nose burned. I almost took a picture of my bruised, pathetic arm to send him. But before I could, another text popped up. Just text Sherry back first. She’s really worried about you. The hand holding my phone simply dropped into my lap. The last remaining shred of my desire to communicate vanished into thin air. Once I got home, I quickly stood under a boiling hot shower. But shortly after, a fever hit me like a truck. One hundred and one degrees. I tore through the cabinets, finally punched out a few fever pills, swallowed them dry, and collapsed into bed. I didn’t know how much time had passed when a sharp click and a blinding overhead light ripped me awake. Hugo stood at the foot of the bed, his brow furrowed in anger. “We were out there going crazy looking for you, and you’re just at home sleeping!” My head was spinning as I pushed myself up. Looking at his perfectly dry, immaculate clothes, a mocking smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “What’s so funny?” His expression darkened. “I called you ten times. You didn’t pick up once.” “Aria, have you noticed how incredibly impossible you are to please lately?” He kept venting his frustrations, completely blind to my unnaturally flushed face and the blister packs of medicine scattered across the nightstand. After Hugo took a shower, his temper seemed to cool down. When he climbed under the covers, he reached out to pull me into his arms, just like he always did. I rolled over, dodging his touch. “Go sleep in the guest room.” Hugo stiffened, his face turning ugly. “You’re really going to keep dragging this out, aren’t you.” He kicked the blankets off and stormed out of the room. I pulled the covers up and drifted back into a feverish haze. Late into the night, the sharp ache in my stomach woke me up again. I dragged myself out of bed to go to the bathroom, but noticed a sliver of light coming from the guest room. As I got closer, I realized he was singing softly into his phone. It was a slow acoustic love song. “That was beautiful. Sing it for me one more time.” Sherry’s sweet, soft voice drifted from the speaker. Hugo let out a low chuckle. His tone was drenched in a rare, intoxicating gentleness. “I’ll sing it one more time, but then you have to go to sleep. It’s late.” “Okay.” And so Hugo patiently sang the verse again. Intimate, breathless, laced with a strange hint of sorrow. When the final lyric faded into the quiet room. Sherry suddenly spoke. “I do. I will marry you.” Hugo fell completely silent. In the heavy darkness of the night, Sherry’s voice broke into an agonized whisper. “That night wasn’t a dream. We were so perfect together. You kept whispering that you loved me, and now you’re going to marry someone else. My heart is breaking.” “Sherry…” Hugo’s voice was strained, struggling to get the words out. “I was drunk that night. Didn’t we promise each other we would never bring it up again?” “You were drunk, but I wasn’t!” Sherry’s reaction was fierce and desperate. “You knew exactly who I was. You moaned my name.” “You even hung up on Aria when she called for help.” “You’re only marrying her out of guilt, aren’t you?” Separated by a single wall, I clamped both hands over my mouth, tears streaming down my face in a silent, violent flood. A month ago, I was working late. Hugo was supposed to pick me up, but he never showed. I was tracked down a dark street by a drunk. I was almost assaulted. When Hugo finally rushed into the police station, his face was pale with terror. He held me tight, swearing his car had broken down halfway there. I believed him. It was all a lie. The silence stretched on forever. Hugo never offered an answer. But I knew exactly what that meant. He was admitting it. Every last trace of love I had left for him evaporated. I wiped my face, turned around, and walked to the bathroom. I noticed a small amount of blood in my underwear. I put on a pad, planning to head to the hospital first thing in the morning. But when I woke up, Sherry was in my apartment. “Aria, come eat breakfast! I made your favorite French toast.” She flashed a sweet, gentle smile, playing the perfect, loving best friend. That is, if she hadn’t just thrown my favorite matching couple’s plates straight into the trash can. Seeing me staring dead at the shattered ceramic, she clasped her hands together, looking utterly apologetic. “I am so sorry, Aria. My hands were wet, and I accidentally dropped them.” Accidentally? Those two plates were kept on entirely separate shelves. How incredibly convenient that she broke exactly that pair. My lips turned white with rage. I tried to tell myself to just walk away. But the moment I looked up, I caught a brief, malicious glint of triumph in her eyes. A flood of overlooked memories suddenly slammed into my brain. Hugo’s missing promise ring. His smashed smartwatch. The bizarre tear in the matching jacket I bought him. Every single time, Sherry had been there. Even an idiot would see the truth staring them in the face now. “Aria, why are you just standing there? Eat up.” She placed a plate with an omelet on the table. And right in the empty space beside it, she had drawn a mouse out of ketchup. I was terrified of mice. When I was a kid growing up poor, a rat had crawled into my bed and almost bitten my nose off. My stomach violently heaved. I bolted for the bathroom and threw up until my vision went dark. Sherry’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. She followed me, radiating victimhood. “Aria, what did I ever do to make you hate me so much?” The screech of a chair scraping the floor echoed as Hugo stormed over, looking entirely fed up. “Just ignore her. She’s acting crazy again!” But Sherry wouldn’t listen. She rushed forward, grabbing my arm to support me. “Aria, are you okay? Let me make you some tea.” Her tone dripped with concern, but her eyes were dead, staring at me like I was a corpse. My skin crawled with disgust. I shoved her away. As we struggled, the necklace flashing around her throat caught my eye. It was the custom necklace my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Give that back!” I lunged to rip it off her neck. Sherry let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Help! Aria, please don’t hit me!” In the next fraction of a second, a brutal force slammed into my back.

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1 Half an hour before the wedding rehearsal dinner, I told the wedding planner to scrap the original video. Her face went pale. “Miss Bennett, that video took three months to edit. Both of your families and all the guests are expecting to see it.” I slid a flash drive across the table. “Play this instead.” She opened the file. Ten seconds in, her fingers froze on the mouse. “Are you… absolutely sure you want to screen this?” I looked over at the massive LED screen dominating the ballroom. It was supposed to show a montage of my relationship with Gavin. But our eight years together amounted to so little that half of the three-minute video consisted of empty landscape shots. I had always told myself he was just quiet, a man of few words who didn’t know how to show affection. Until last night. I was setting up an old phone Gavin had passed down to me and noticed he hadn’t logged out of his cloud drive. Tucked away in a hidden gallery was a folder named: Three Thousand Days with Leah. It was filled with a tenderness he had never once shown me. In that single, quiet moment, the truth hit me. He wasn’t incapable of love. He was just incapable of loving me. So tonight, I was going to broadcast his three thousand days on the big screen at our rehearsal dinner. I was walking away from this wedding, but I wasn’t going to let the last eight years slip by in silence. Everyone deserved to see the truth. The screen flickered to life. It didn’t show a happy couple portrait. Instead, it split down the middle. On the left side, Leah sat before a glowing birthday cake, her eyes crinkling with pure joy. Gavin’s hand reached into the frame, gently lighting the candles. His voice, softer than I had ever heard it, murmured, “Happy birthday, my sweet Leah.” On the right side, a screenshot of our text exchange from that exact same night appeared. I’m at the restaurant. The food is getting cold, my message read. Below it, his brief reply: Stuck at the office. Don’t wait up. A collective murmur rippled through the ballroom. The video transitioned. On the left, a snowy landscape. Leah crouched beside a snowman, her nose flushed red from the cold. Gavin laughed behind the camera. “Put your gloves back on, silly. You’ll cry if your hands freeze.” On the right, a screenshot from a night I was burning up with a hundred-and-three-degree fever. My text asked: Are you coming home tonight? His reply: Leah wanted to see the first snow. I’m going to hang out with her for a bit. Just take some Tylenol. The next clip rolled. On the left, a rooftop at night. Leah stood wrapped in Gavin’s favorite coat, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Gavin’s voice was a soothing balm: “I’m right here. Don’t be scared.” On the right, a cold, clinical photo of an ER bay. An IV stand, alongside an emergency admission form for acute upper GI bleeding. There were records of six missed calls to Gavin, followed by his single text response: Something happened to Leah. Stop making a scene. I heard Gavin’s mother gasp from the VIP table, but she recovered quickly, slamming her hands down and standing up. “Turn it off! What is this garbage?!” Nobody moved. The planner glanced at me, and when I gave her a firm nod, she let the video play on. On the left, Leah leaned her head out of a passenger-side window, letting the wind whip through her hair. On the right, my message containing photos of various wedding gowns: Which one do you think looks best? His reply: They all look the same to me. But on the left, dated that very same night, was a text he sent to Leah: You’d look incredible in a mermaid dress. It would show off your waist. The room erupted into chaos. Whispers turned into open shouting. “What is going on?” “Is this a joke?” “Who is that girl?” “I thought they’ve been together for eight years!” Right on cue, the double doors of the ballroom swung open. Gavin walked in, car keys still dangling from his hand, with Leah limping slightly behind him. She was wearing a cozy white knit dress, her hair tumbling loosely over her shoulders, her eyes rimmed with red. The second she saw the massive screen, every drop of color drained from her face. Gavin stormed up to the stage. “Audrey, what the hell are you doing?” I picked up the microphone. “Showing everyone our walk down memory lane.” He lowered his voice, trying to contain his rage. “Have you lost your mind? With all these people here, you choose to humiliate us like this?” I met his gaze dead-on. “Oh, so you do care about who’s watching.” Leah chimed in, her voice trembling. “Audrey, please, it’s my fault. I sprained my ankle, and Gavin was just being a gentleman and taking me to the hospital.” “A minor soft tissue contusion,” I said, looking at her ankle. “The discharge papers recommend an ice pack and rest.” I tapped my phone, and her actual emergency room chart flashed onto the screen. “Gavin spent two hours holding an ice pack to your ankle while he missed his own wedding rehearsal dinner.” Leah’s bottom lip quivered. Gavin scowled. “She was completely alone at the hospital, Audrey. I couldn’t just leave her.” I nodded calmly. “Then go back and take care of her.” I slid my engagement ring off my finger and dropped it onto the silver tray on the podium. “I’m calling it off.” Gavin’s mother rushed forward, her heels clicking furiously against the floorboards. “Audrey, what nonsense is this? The invitations are out, the venue is paid for, and you want to drag our family name through the mud like this?” I looked at her with pity. “Mrs. Sinclair, your son dragged your family name through the mud all by himself. I just played the soundtrack.” Her finger shook as she pointed it at me. “It is perfectly normal for a man to have a past, or someone he cares about. Bringing your petty jealousy onto the big screen shows a complete lack of class!” I let out a soft laugh. “So you knew all along.” She choked on her words. “You knew he was in love with someone else, yet you still pushed for this wedding,” I continued. “Did you think I was too weak to speak up, or did you think my father was someone you could easily walk over?” My father stood up from his seat, his face dark with fury. “The Sinclairs want to save face, but what about the Bennetts? Do you think my daughter is some second-rate option?” Gavin’s composure finally fractured. “Mr. Bennett, please, it’s not what it looks like.” My father didn’t even look at him. “Do not call me that.” Gavin turned even paler. I stepped over and pulled the flash drive from the media console. Gavin let out a visible breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly, thinking the nightmare was over. I looked at him and smiled. “Why the sigh of relief, Gavin?” He froze. I pulled a second drive from my clutch. “That first part was just about how much you love her. This next part is about how she taught me to stay in my lane.” Leah looked as if she might faint. “Audrey, please…” I pressed play. A voice memo began to broadcast, Leah’s soft, sweet voice echoing clearly through the speakers. “Audrey, sweetie, do you know what Gavin told me? He said you’re the perfect kind of girl to marry, because you never need to be coddled. You’re just so low-maintenance.” The audio ended, leaving a deafening silence in the room, save for the faint hum of the sound system. Leah stood frozen by the entrance, tears streaming down her face, her mouth opening and closing without a sound. Sending me these voice notes used to be her favorite pastime. She did it because she knew I was too proud to throw a tantrum, and too desperate to keep Gavin happy to start a fight. She thought my patience was infinite. She forgot that even the quietest volcano eventually erupts. I clicked the next file. “Audrey, stop nagging him about whether he loves you. Men hate that. Gavin says you’re so strong you can handle anything on your own. Unlike me. I’m a mess without him.” The third played. “Oh, it’s your birthday today? Sorry, I didn’t know. But I’m having a really rough night, and Gavin said you’re mature enough not to mind if he stays with me.” And the fourth. “Don’t be mad at him for skipping the hospital. He said you’re a tough cookie. It’s just a signature on a consent form, right? No need to play the victim.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father’s hands clench into tight fists. I didn’t dare look directly at him. If I did, I knew my composure would shatter. When I had that severe gastric hemorrhage, the pain was so blinding I couldn’t stand straight. The nurse had handed me the emergency consent forms and told me to call my family. I had called Gavin over and over. When he finally texted back, it was: Leah is having a panic attack on a rooftop. Stop adding to my stress. I had signed the papers myself, my hand shaking so violently that I had to write my name twice to make it legible. That night, I genuinely believed that if I died on the operating table, Gavin wouldn’t find out until the next afternoon. And even then, his grief would be short-lived, because Leah would still be crying for his attention. A final text message screenshot appeared on the screen, sent from Leah to me: Audrey, stop playing the martyr. If he keeps choosing to come to me, it just means I need him more than you do. Gavin finally snapped out of his stupor, lunging toward the AV booth to yank the cords out. I stepped directly in his path, blocking him. “What’s the matter, Gavin? Too hard to listen to?” His voice sounded gasped. “When did you get these?” “Over the years. Constantly.” “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I smiled, a cold, empty sensation. “To what end? So you could tell me I was being overly sensitive again?” His face twisted in a mixture of shame and shock. Leah ran up to the stage, sobbing hysterically. “It’s not what it sounds like, Gavin! I was in a really bad place back then. I didn’t mean any harm, I swear!” I looked down at her. “That’s your signature move, isn’t it, Leah? You slice someone open, and then you cry first so everyone thinks you’re the victim.” She shook her head desperately. “Audrey, you’ve got it all wrong. I was just dependent on him. I didn’t have anyone else.” “Dependent?” I asked. “So dependent that you memorized my birthday just to stage a dramatic breakup on that exact night?” I brought up one more screenshot on the screen. It was a calendar Leah had sent me months ago to gloat. She had color-coded Gavin’s schedule with my key dates: my birthday, my bridal fittings, our marriage license appointment, and tonight’s rehearsal dinner. Next to every single one of those dates, she had written the same note: Get him to come to me. Seeing those words, Gavin turned to Leah, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Leah? You planned this?” She panicked. “No, Gavin, that’s not what it means! I was just… I was just scared you’d get too busy and forget about me!” I looked at Gavin. “She was terrified you’d forget her. So, on my birthday, she gets dumped. On the night of my emergency surgery, she’s on a ledge. On the day of my gown fitting, her power goes out. And tonight, at our rehearsal, she twists her ankle.” I paused, letting the silence settle. “Gavin, do you honestly still believe those were all coincidences?” Gavin stared at Leah. For the first time in his life, his eyes held no warmth or protectiveness. There was only a cold, chilling sense of unfamiliarity. Leah wept harder, reaching for him. “Gavin, please, I didn’t mean to. I was just so terrified you’d abandon me once you got married.” Mrs. Sinclair quickly stepped between them, shielding Leah. “Enough! The girl grew up without parents. Is it really such a crime that she relies on Gavin? Audrey, you are supposed to be the bride here. Making such a childish fuss over this, aren’t you embarrassed?” I looked at the older woman. “If you aren’t embarrassed by your son’s behavior, Mrs. Sinclair, why should I be?” I tapped my phone again, pulling up a screenshot of a text thread between Mrs. Sinclair and Leah. The keypad code to the house is Gavin’s birthday, Mrs. Sinclair had written. Audrey is at work during the day, so just go in and grab whatever you need. She’s passive anyway; she won’t say a thing. Mrs. Sinclair’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. My father walked up to the stage, his hand settling gently but firmly on my shoulder. “Audrey, we’re leaving.” I nodded. “Okay, Dad.” Gavin stepped forward, reaching out to stop me. “Audrey, please. Let’s talk about this. Just the two of us.” I stared at his hand. “Let go of me.” “I swear I didn’t know Leah was sending you those things,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “There is a lifetime of things you didn’t know, Gavin.” “Give me one chance,” he whispered, his eyes pleading. “I’ll fix this. I’ll handle it.” I looked past him to Leah. Even through her tears, her fingers were tightly wrapped around the cuff of his sleeve. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over me. “Gavin, you don’t have to choose between us anymore.” He blinked, confused. “I’m bowing out,” I said quietly. “From now on, whoever wants to play her hero can go ahead and do it. I’m resigning from the job.” As I reached the exit, the wedding planner came running after me, breathless. “Miss Bennett, wait! Do you want the original files from the wedding video?” I stopped. “Which files?” She hesitated, glancing back toward the ballroom. “The tribute video. The one with your late mother.” I spun around. Gavin froze instantly. The planner lowered her voice to a whisper. “Miss Leah said that tribute was too depressing for a wedding, that it would ruin the mood. And Mr. Sinclair agreed. He told us to cut it.” I stared at Gavin. The noise of the ballroom suddenly faded into a dull hum, as if I were underwater. A month before my mother passed away, when she was already frail and bedridden, she had asked my dad to record a video for me. In it, she said, “Audrey, my sweet girl, I might not make it to see you walk down the aisle. But my only hope is that the man you marry truly, deeply cherishes you.” I had never been able to bring myself to watch that video after she died. I had kept it saved, waiting for my wedding day so that she could be there with me in some small way. And Gavin had thrown it away. Because Leah thought it was too depressing. “Is that true?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Gavin opened his mouth, but no sound came out at first. “Audrey… I just thought we should keep the atmosphere light and happy on our big day.” I let out a dry laugh, but the first tear finally spilled over my eyelashes. “The absolute last thing my mother left for me, and you deleted it because it didn’t fit your aesthetic.” His face went completely gray. “Gavin,” I said, wiping the tear away. “This isn’t just a cancelled wedding. You are permanently out of my life.” I didn’t go back to the house we bought together. I went home with my father to the house I grew up in. He didn’t say a single word during the entire drive. Once inside, he slowly took off his crisp new suit jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. The fabric was still perfectly pressed, but he looked as though he had aged ten years in a single night. “Audrey,” he called out softly. “Did I make a mistake trusting him so much?” I sat on the old worn sofa and shook my head. “No, Dad. I was the one who trusted him too much.” My father knelt down by the coffee table and pulled out an old tin box. Inside were loose photographs of my mother and a worn, scuffed flash drive. “Your mother’s video, I have another copy of it here,” he said, placing the drive into my palm. “She was worried the videographer might lose it, so she made me keep a backup. She said you could be a bit forgetful sometimes, and she wanted to make sure you’d always have her voice when you missed her.” My fingers closed around the warm metal drive, and my chest seized as the tears finally came pouring out. My mother always joked that I was scatterbrained, but after she passed, I had forced myself to remember every single detail for the people I loved. I knew Gavin hated cilantro, that his dress shirts had to be ironed on low heat, and that he couldn’t have dairy before a big meeting. Yet Leah only had to utter a single “I don’t feel well,” and he would drop the world to run to her. My father patted my shoulder gently. “I’m glad you’re not marrying him, sweetheart.” I looked up, seeing the redness in his eyes even as he forced a smile. “My daughter deserves the world. Why should you marry into a family that treats you like an afterthought?” In that moment, I let go and sobbed like a child. The next morning, I walked into the bridal boutique. The consultant’s expression turned instantly guarded when she saw me. “Miss Bennett… are you here to pick up your gown?” “I’m canceling the order,” I said, handing over my copy of the contract. “The wedding is off.” The consultant was quiet for a moment before printing out the cancellation form. As I took the pen to sign, my eyes caught a line of text in the system notes: Alternative gown selected: Mermaid style, adjusted per Miss Leah’s preference. My fingers froze on the pen. “Miss Leah?” The consultant hesitated, looking around before turning her monitor toward me. “Miss Bennett, this is your dress, and I honestly think you deserve to know the truth.” The digital log was incredibly detailed: Miss Leah suggests changing to mermaid style. Miss Leah notes the mother’s tribute video is bad luck for the ceremony and advises against it. Mr. Sinclair confirmed: Proceed with Leah’s suggestions. A suffocating lump rose in my throat. On the seventeenth of last month, when I had that hundred-and-three-degree fever, I had texted Gavin begging him to come home early. He had texted back saying he was at a critical dinner with a client and couldn’t leave. It turned out his “client” was Leah, picking out my wedding dress. I put my signature on the paper. As I turned to leave, the consultant said softly, “Miss Bennett, for what it’s worth, you looked absolutely breathtaking in the original satin gown.” I paused at the door. “Thank you.” When I stepped out onto the sidewalk, Gavin was standing by the curb, clutching a thick paper bag. The moment he spotted me, he rushed over. “Audrey!” I kept walking, ignoring him, but he stepped directly into my path. “I packed up all of Leah’s things,” he said breathlessly. “They’re out of the house. I changed the security codes, too. And I had a talk with my mother.” I looked at him coldly. “And?” His throat bobbed. “Please, can we just put the wedding on hold instead of calling it off? We can postpone it. I’ll plan a completely new ceremony for you.” “A new ceremony?” I asked. “Are you going to bring back the footage of my mother, too?” His face paled. “Audrey, I didn’t realize that clip meant so much to you.” “My mother’s dying blessing didn’t mean much to you?” I asked, my voice flat. He had no answer. I realized then that he wasn’t stupid. He just knew that my pain was quiet. And because I suffered in silence, he decided my pain could be safely ignored. Gavin held out the paper bag. “The bridal shop sent these photos over.” I didn’t move to take them. He opened the bag himself, pulling out a print of me from my first fitting. I was standing in front of the tri-fold mirror in that classic satin gown, my posture straight and elegant, my back to the camera. Gavin’s eyes welled with tears. “I should have stayed that day.” I looked at the photograph. “Gavin, there are a thousand days you should have stayed.” His hand froze in midair. “Audrey, let me make it up to you,” he pleaded. I shook my head. “You can’t.” “Then what do you want me to do?” he whispered, desperate.

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