1 My childhood friend, Cody, dragged me into taking over a failing local zoo. Thanks to my ability to hear what animals were thinking, the zoo came back from the dead, pulling in a net profit of over a hundred thousand dollars in just one year. But when it came time for year-end profit sharing, Cody tossed a measly five thousand dollars onto the desk and tried to kick me out. “I hired a new keeper,” he said, not even looking at me. “He is more professional than you, and he works for less.” I stared at the stack of cash on the desk, my fists clenching tight. “We had an agreement, Cody. You put up the cash, I put in the labor, and we split the profits fifty-fifty.” “Labor?” Before I could finish, Cody slammed his hand onto the desk. “Zane, you spend all day playing with mute beasts. What kind of labor is that? If you’re so damn talented, why don’t you see if they’ll leave with you!” I swept up the cash and gave him a quiet nod. “Fine. You said it, not me.” Cody’s face was flushed, probably from the alcohol he had been drinking earlier. He seemed to have completely forgotten how we got here. During our first week of opening, the Solstice Zoo went viral because of a video titled Magic Bird Finds Tourist’s Lost Ring. In that video, a blackbird named Spike flew down on my command, carrying a diamond ring in his beak, and dropped it right into the tourist’s hand. After that, the crowd grew day by day. By the end of the year, this tiny, forgotten zoo had become a trending hotspot, raking in millions. All of that happened because I could communicate with the animals. But in Cody’s eyes, my entire value was limited to throwing feed and shoveling manure. To him, my sweat and tears were worth exactly five thousand dollars. Cody leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his legs and blowing lazy smoke rings into the air. “Lance has already arrived. He’s a professional animal trainer, and his social media presence is massive.” Lance? I almost laughed out loud. The guy was a fraud who failed half his classes in college and took six years to graduate. He had built a following on social media by crafting a witty, intellectual zoologist persona, but he knew absolutely nothing about actual animal welfare. The creatures in this zoo were going to suffer under his care. “I’ll leave,” I told Cody, keeping my voice calm. “But Kahn, Luna, and the other old-timers I brought down from Blackwood Mountain are coming with me.” Cody snapped, lunging over the desk. He blew a thick cloud of smoke directly into my face, making me cough. “Those are the stars of the show! You think you can just walk away with our cash cows? Don’t even dream about it. Besides, how are you going to prove you brought them? If you’ve got the guts, get them to walk back up the mountain with you!” I picked up my envelope of cash and nodded. “You said it.” As I walked out of the administration building, a furious scream erupted from Cody’s office. “Where did all this bird shit come from? It’s all over my windows!” I looked up. The culprit, Spike, was perched on a low branch, his dark tail feathers twitching proudly as if he were waiting for a reward. “The mountain can tolerate him, but this bird cannot,” Spike chirped, his voice buzzing in my mind. “I’ve mobilized a dozen of my crew. The second that bastard steps outside, he’s going to learn what shit luck really means.” To anyone else, the blackbird was just making random noises, but to me, his words were as clear as day. Blackbirds were notoriously vengeful creatures. Cody was in for a miserable few weeks, but he had brought it entirely on himself. “You heard him, Spike. We’re kicked out,” I said, gently stroking the bird’s back. He closed his eyes in satisfaction. “Want to head back to Blackwood Mountain?” “Hell yeah!” Spike chirped. “I’ve been sick of looking at that loser anyway!” I smiled, giving his tiny chest a gentle nudge. “Go tell the others to pack up. We’re going home.” I walked over to the tiger enclosure first. Kahn, our majestic Siberian tiger, was already pacing near the gate, his amber eyes filled with anxiety. “Spike told us what happened,” Kahn growled, his deep voice vibrating in my chest. “Is that little punk really throwing you out? He’s got some nerve!” To his left, Luna, our Asiatic black bear, slammed a heavy paw against the reinforced glass. “Boss, don’t use those human idioms. You’re insulting the punk! Besides, if we hadn’t wanted to help young Zane get on his feet, none of us old-timers would have ever agreed to leave the quiet of the mountain!” I felt a sudden pang of sadness. When Cody first wanted to open the zoo, I had begged these older animals for weeks before they finally agreed to come down and help me out. The younger, wilder beasts in the deep forest would never have agreed to live in cages. “It’s fine,” I whispered, patting the glass. “I got five grand from him. Once we’re back, I’m buying everyone premium steaks.” After comforting Kahn, I took my envelope of money and went to prepare the paperwork. The old Blackwood Mountain Zoo still existed, though it was remote and had been closed to the public for years. When I brought Kahn and the others down, we had registered them under a temporary loan agreement. Cody had probably forgotten that detail. What is borrowed must eventually be returned. And now, the lease was up. As I walked toward the exit, I ran straight into Lance, the “professional” keeper Cody had bragged about. He intentionally rammed his shoulder into mine as we crossed paths, sending my canvas bag tumbling to the concrete. The envelope of cash slid out, scattering a few bills. Lance looked down, a smug grin plastered across his face. “Well, look who it is. Zane, the college genius, kicked out like a stray dog.” He walked over and casually kicked the stack of bills, scattering the hundred-dollar notes across the dirt. “Oops, my bad. Pick it up. If you’re short a few dollars, let me know. Cody paid me thirty thousand just to sign on. I can easily buy you dinner.” I didn’t want to waste my breath on him. I knelt down to gather the cash, but Lance placed his expensive leather boot directly over the last hundred-dollar bill. He leaned down, tapping my cheek with two fingers. “Do you know why Cody was willing to pay me so much? Because I have followers. I know how to market. In this day and age, Zane, talent is cheap. What people pay for is a good story. Those animals of yours will be doubling our revenue within six months under my management.” He finally lifted his boot. I picked up the dirty bill, brushing off the dust. Money doesn’t lose its value just because someone steps on it. “Six months?” I murmured, looking at him. By tomorrow morning, there wouldn’t be a single animal left in this zoo. I booked a cheap motel room for two nights. If Pete hadn’t called me, I would have completely forgotten about our high school reunion dinner tonight. When I arrived at the restaurant, the voices from inside the private room were already loud and boisterous. “Zane is a total loser,” Cody’s voice boomed, thick with alcohol. “If I hadn’t thrown him a bone at my zoo, he’d be starving in the mountains. And the bastard actually had the nerve to ask me for a cut of the profits!” The other classmates laughed, chiming in with sycophantic praise. Only Pete tried to defend me. “Come on, Cody. Zane is just quiet. He worked his butt off for you, and didn’t he bring those animals from his family’s old place?” Cody scoffed loudly. “Please! He brought a bunch of half-dead, ancient trash. Nobody wants to see that! If it weren’t for my brilliant marketing, those animals would be completely useless. He’s been riding my coattails for years.” I couldn’t listen to another second of his lies. I pushed the door open. Pete immediately tried to smooth things over, but the atmosphere remained tense. Throughout the dinner, people made snide remarks about my sudden unemployment. “If you don’t have a place to stay, Zane, Cody’s garage is pretty spacious. Maybe he’ll let you bunk there.” I shook my head. “No need. Cody gave me five thousand dollars in severance. I can afford a motel.” They laughed, praising Cody’s generosity. No one mentioned the fifty-thousand-dollar bonus I was actually owed. I stood up, pouring myself a full glass of Baijiu. “I want to raise a glass to everyone. Tomorrow, I’m heading back to the mountains. You don’t need to invite me to these dinners anymore.” I downed the glass in one go and walked out without looking back, ignoring Cody’s drunken shouts and Pete’s calls to wait. The next morning, I spent a few hours finalizing the transit permits. I wanted to check on the animals one last time before the transfer, so I headed back to Solstice Zoo. I tried to walk through the employee gate out of habit, but the security guard stopped me. He pointed toward a sheet of paper taped to the glass. Written in bold, black letters was: No entry for Zane or dogs. “Sorry, Zane,” the guard said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Cody’s orders.” The tourists behind me were beginning to complain about the delay, so I stepped out of line. “Zaney! Over here! I have a way in!” Spike’s voice chirped from a nearby oak tree. He flapped his left wing, pointing toward the western wall. I followed him to a small, overgrown gap at the base of the concrete fence. It was barely big enough for a medium-sized dog to squeeze through. I stared at the hole, then at the blackbird. “This is your brilliant plan?” Spike hopped on my shoulder, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Spike always has a way!” To avoid his wrath and get inside, I sucked in my breath and crawled through the dirt, squeezing through the gap. As I walked through the service paths, I could hear the animals complaining. Lance had cut their fresh meat rations, replacing them with a cheap, processed slop to save on costs. I rushed toward the tiger enclosure. Kahn was the king of the mountain, and he had the shortest temper. When I reached the exhibit, I saw Lance standing inside the enclosure, kicking Kahn’s flank. Lance had removed the safety barrier, believing the animals were naturally docile. He didn’t realize that their gentle behavior was entirely due to my communication with them. “You lazy, ancient sack of bones!” Lance barked, kicking the tiger again. “You think you’re too good for this feed? If you don’t eat this, you’re going to starve!” He snatched the bowl of slop away, delivering one final kick to Kahn’s ribs. “Stop that!” I yelled from the spectator fence, my heart hammering against my ribs. But the crowd was too loud, and Lance didn’t hear me. He also didn’t notice that Kahn had lowered his massive chest to the ground, his ears flattened against his skull, his eyes locked onto Lance’s back. It was a classic hunting posture. Kahn was preparing to kill. “Wait, something’s wrong,” a tourist whispered, pointing at the tiger. “Usually, the tiger is so sweet. Why does he look so angry today?” “Yeah, and where is the young keeper, Zane? This new guy just kicked the tiger!” “Oh my god! He’s jumping!” With a deafening roar, Kahn lunged forward, slamming his massive paws into Lance’s chest and throwing him to the ground. Lance screamed in terror, his face turning pale as he scrambled backward in the dirt. I quickly pulled out the old wooden whistle hanging around my neck. I blew a sharp, piercing note that echoed across the enclosure. It was a whistle passed down through my family, a sound Kahn knew well. Kahn’s massive paw stopped just inches from Lance’s throat. The tiger looked over at me, blinking his golden eyes, and slowly relaxed his posture, looking as innocent as a house cat. “Look how worried you get,” Kahn’s voice rumbled in my head. “I was just checking if my teeth were as blunt as he claimed.” Luna, who had been watching the drama from her own enclosure, let out a low rumble of laughter. “I wanted to take a bite out of his shoulder, too. That cheap slop gave me terrible diarrhea.” To the tourists, the tiger and bear were just making terrifying wild noises. Lance was shaking, his shirt torn and covered in dirt. I jumped over the low barrier and dragged him back into the safety vestibule. Kahn hopped back onto his platform, completely unbothered. The tourists cheered from the viewing platform. “Zane is back! He’s the real deal!” Once Lance caught his breath, his fear turned into pure embarrassment and rage. “Who let you in here?” he snarled, immediately calling security. A few minutes later, Cody arrived, looking furious. “Cody, this tiger is wild!” Lance yelled, trying to cover up his own incompetence. “We need to use stronger measures to break his spirit.” “Don’t you dare touch them!” I snapped, pulling out the official transport permits. “The loan agreement is over, Cody. I’m taking them back to Blackwood Mountain today.” Cody snatched the papers from my hand. Without a word, he tore them in half and tossed them into the nearby duck pond. He leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “I have a massive anniversary event tomorrow. If anything ruins it, I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand?” I stared at the floating pieces of paper, my teeth grinding together. “What are you waiting for? Throw him out!” Lance shouted to the security guards. Before the guards could grab me, a flock of blackbirds descended from the trees, unleashing a targeted barrage of bird droppings directly onto Cody and Lance. The chaos allowed me to slip away. Before I left, I looked back at Kahn and whispered, “One AM. Beacon Street.” By midnight, Spike had located the keys to the enclosures, and our clever raccoons had managed to slide them out of the guard’s desk. The security guards were fast asleep, completely drunk on the leftover beer from the anniversary prep party. At one in the morning, the heavy iron gates of the enclosures slid open. Dozens of animals quietly walked out into the cool night air, following Kahn’s silent lead. I stood waiting at the end of Beacon Street, where the road met the forest trail. When they emerged from the shadows, every animal let out a soft, joyous sound of greeting. “Let’s go,” I smiled, looking up at the mountain. “Let’s go home!”

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1 Three days before our graduation trip, my boyfriend, Connor, brought over a box of mystery travel scratch-offs for me to pick our destination. I scratched off three in a row, and every single one of them read: Montana. My best friend, Hazel, clapped her hands in excitement. She immediately pulled out her phone and canceled the beachside cabin I had spent weeks booking in Miami. I refused to believe it. I grabbed the coin and scratched off every single card remaining in the box. Every. Single. One. Said Montana. But I had been planning this beach trip for three years. The first year, Connor claimed his eczema would flare up if he touched saltwater. A week later, he accompanied Hazel to a crowded water park. The second year, he said he had a severe sun allergy and couldn’t be outdoors. Yet, I found their names written side-by-side on boat tickets from a trip to Lake Tahoe. And now, looking at the hotel reservations and train tickets already booked on Hazel’s phone, a profound exhaustion washed over me. The ocean you stood me up on, Connor… I’ll go see it by myself. I stared down at the scratched-off cards littering the floor. Hazel, completely oblivious to my silence, wrapped her arm around mine and began talking about what we should wear. “Fifi, I bought two matching outfits in a dusty wasteland style. Against the blue sky and green grass, we are going to look absolutely stunning!” She swiped through photos on her phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “I want to go to the beach,” I said quietly. Hazel’s cheerful smile faltered, her face dropping instantly. “Fifi, this is our only graduation trip. I promise I’ll go to the beach with you next time.” But Connor had promised me just two days ago that he would walk along the shore and collect seashells with me. Connor’s throat bobbed. Under my intense, steady gaze, he finally looked away and pulled up a ticket booking app on his phone. “Actually, I bought the train tickets to Montana a long time ago,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “The scratch-off box was just a fun little way to build some excitement. Besides, weren’t you excited just a second ago?” My fingertips turned ice-cold. I squeezed a scrap of the cardboard card in my palm. A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “Come on, next time. I promise we’ll do whatever you want next time.” I had been hearing that promise for three years. He always had a different excuse. Eczema, sun allergies, busy schedules. I had waited and hoped, over and over again. But this time, I was done waiting. “It’s fine,” I said. “I can go to the beach by myself.” Connor froze, clearly shocked that I was openly disagreeing with him for the first time in our relationship. “Maybe I should cancel my ticket, Fifi,” Hazel said, hovering her finger over the screen with a look of mock regret. “I just don’t feel right going without you.” But her finger remained suspended, never actually tapping the screen. Connor reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip tight enough to make his veins show. “Don’t do that,” he said quickly. “You’ve been researching Montana trails since last month. Canceling now would be a waste.” Meanwhile, my beach ticket had been refunded the exact second Hazel “scratched” that mystery card. The notification Refund Successful on my screen was blindingly bright. Connor looked at me, his expression softening as he tried to placate me. “Fiona, next month is your birthday. I’ll take you to the beach then, okay?” I raised my eyes and looked at him, my face entirely blank. “My birthday was last week, Connor.” His face stiffened. Last week, I had bought a small cake and lit the candles by myself. He told me he had to help Hazel with her dance club rehearsal. I sat alone until the wax melted into the frosting. He never showed up, and he never called. The built-up resentment in my chest suddenly surged, burning the back of my throat. I had been ignoring the reality of our relationship for so long, desperately lying to myself just to keep holding on. “It’s all your fault,” Hazel said, playfully pinching Connor’s side before turning to me with a pout. “He’s so forgetful, Fifi. Don’t be mad at him. Why don’t you just come to Montana with us? When we get back, we’ll absolutely go to the beach with you.” I took a deep breath, wanting to tell her that flights to Miami were still available. But Hazel had already turned around, pulling out her tablet to discuss the hiking route with Connor. They huddled close, their shoulders pressed together, her hair brushing against his cheek. There was no room for me in their world. “Make sure you practice your photography skills these next two days,” Hazel teased, forwarding several videos to Connor. “If my photos don’t look good, I’m never speaking to you again!” They looked exactly like a couple in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. “You’re a handful, you know that?” Connor laughed, his voice dripping with affection. I stepped back, quietly pulling out my phone. While they were busy flirting, I booked a one-way ticket to Miami, departing early the day after tomorrow. Three people made for a very crowded relationship. I was going to see the ocean on my own terms. The app showed the ticket was processing. Connor finally looked back at me. “Fifi, I sent you the itinerary.” I opened our chat window and scrolled through our recent messages. Four days ago, he was too busy helping Hazel with her thesis defense to have dinner with me. Yesterday, he bought a box of lemon tarts and pistachio macarons and asked me to deliver them to Hazel because she was mad at him. Every single conversation we had revolved around Hazel. I felt more like his administrative assistant than his girlfriend. “I don’t know what I would do without Connor,” Hazel giggled, sticking her tongue out playfully. “I’d probably lose my head.” I still had a detailed beach itinerary saved in my photo album. When I tried to show it to Connor a few days ago, he told me it was too much reading and walked away. My phone buzzed. Booking Confirmed. Looking at the destination on my screen, I felt a massive weight lift from my chest. I didn’t want to hear another word about Hazel’s perfect hiking outfits. I went back to my apartment. I pulled my suitcase from the closet and began packing my sunscreen and summer dresses. “Our trip isn’t for another three days, why are you packing now?” my mother asked, walking into my room. I didn’t answer. Instead, I grabbed the three boxes of travel toiletries I had bought for the three of us and tossed them into the trash can. My mother realized something was wrong. “Did you have a fight with them?” “Yeah,” I murmured, my throat tight. I picked up a green reusable water cup from my desk. Connor and Hazel had matching pink and blue ones that he bought during their trip to Lake Tahoe. He had bought mine online weeks later, choosing a green one because they were out of the other colors. I tossed it into the trash bag. Without their clutter, my suitcase felt incredibly light. When I went downstairs to throw out the garbage, I heard Hazel calling my name from a distance. She and Connor were walking toward me, wearing matching baseball caps in different colors. They had even swapped their shoelaces, tying one pink and one blue lace on each of their sneakers. I looked down at the matching couples shirt I was wearing. I had bought it two years ago, but Connor had never worn his. I was the only one who ever wore it. “Why did you throw your cup away?” Connor asked, frowning as he noticed the trash bag. “It cracked,” I lied. “Well, that’s perfect timing! We can buy a new one today,” Hazel said, grabbing my hand and squeezing my fingers. “I came to get you so we could buy some outdoor gear. We need to make sure you have everything for Montana.” Looking at her bright, cheerful smile, a dark thought crossed my mind. What would happen if I just didn’t tell them I was going to Miami? “Sure,” I said. I followed them into the sporting goods store, but instead of looking at hiking gear, I wandered over to the swim cover-ups. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hazel trying on windbreakers. Connor watched her with a fond, indulgent smile as she held a bright pink jacket against his chest. When he noticed me looking at a pair of beach sandals, he walked over and took them out of my hand, putting them back on the shelf. “These aren’t going to work,” he said, handing me a pair of sturdy trekking poles. “You need these for the trails in Montana. The sandals are for the beach.” I ignored him, picking the sandals right back up. I also grabbed a lightweight sun-protection hoodie. Connor’s brow furrowed. “Fiona, I know you’re upset. But I promise I’ll take you shopping for beach gear when we go next month. There’s no point in buying this stuff now just to let it gather dust.” I stared at him, my eyes steady and unblinking. “Who says I’m not going?” I brushed past him and went straight to the cash register to pay. Connor hurried after me, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. “Mom?” I had heard his parents owned a shop nearby, but I hadn’t expected to run into his mother here. I offered a polite, somewhat awkward greeting. But before I could even raise my hand, Mrs. Brooks walked right past me, heading straight for Hazel. “Hazel, sweetheart! It feels like it’s been ages,” she said, taking Hazel’s hands in hers. “Why haven’t you and Connor come over to visit me lately?” She patted Hazel’s hands warmly, completely ignoring my presence. “You have to stay and have dinner with me tonight.” This was only my second time meeting Connor’s mother, and it was painfully clear she had no interest in me. I made an excuse about being busy, but Connor insisted on dragging me along to the restaurant anyway. The dinner was agonizing. Hazel and Mrs. Brooks laughed and chatted like family, with Hazel affectionately calling her “Godmama.” I sat in silence, sipping my water, until I couldn’t take it anymore and excused myself early. The cool evening air helped clear my head. When Connor came running out of the restaurant after me, I turned to face him, feeling entirely calm. “Let’s break up,” I said. The expression on his face went blank for a second. His shoulders tensed. “Fiona, I literally just brought you to have dinner with my family, and you want to break up with me?” I remained silent, remembering how Mrs. Brooks had brushed past me without a word, only to turn back and tell Hazel to visit her more often. Connor, take good care of Hazel. Don’t ignore your best friend just because you have a girlfriend now. I forced a small, tired smile. “You two make much more sense together. And your mother clearly prefers her.” Hazel rushed out of the restaurant, her eyes pooling with tears as she looked at me pleadingly. “Fiona, please don’t say that! You’ve got it all wrong. I was only talking to Mrs. Brooks so much because I didn’t want the dinner to feel awkward!” Connor grabbed my wrist, his voice rising in anger. “Hazel was just trying to make a good impression on my mom, Fiona. What did she do wrong?” I shook my head, pulling my wrist from his grip. His mother’s hostility during dinner was loud and clear. Even if we stayed together, there was no future for us. More importantly, his heart wasn’t with me. The sooner I ended this, the sooner I could heal. Without another word, I turned and hailed a taxi. Halfway down the block, I realized I had left my purse on the chair in the restaurant. I instructed the driver to turn back, and as I walked down the quiet hallway toward our private dining room, I heard Hazel sobbing inside. “What am I going to do? Is Fiona really mad at me? I can’t lose her as a friend, Connor.” My chest tightened, a familiar ache blooming in my throat. “And the way she was looking at you today… it was so strange,” Hazel sobbed, her voice trembling. “Do you think… do you think she found out about the library? Does she know you hired those guys to corner her back then, just so you could play the hero and rescue her?” It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. I froze in the hallway, paralyzed. Three years ago, as I was leaving the university library at night, two men had started following me. Connor and Hazel had suddenly appeared, chasing the men away and walking me home safely. It was because of that night that Hazel and I became inseparable friends, and it was because of that night that I fell in love with Connor. My hands shook violently. My chest felt hollow, my throat dry. Connor’s voice was tight and anxious. “She doesn’t know. And besides, we didn’t actually let those guys hurt her, did we?” Hazel wrung her hands, her voice quiet. “Then why did she suddenly bring up breaking up? Is she really that upset about the Montana trip?” She reached for her phone to cancel her train ticket, but Connor stopped her, his voice softening as he comforted her. “We’ve postponed her beach trip plenty of times. One more time won’t kill her. I’ll make it up to her later. Hazel, I just want you to be happy.” I stood outside the door, the cold seeping deep into my bones. My entire relationship was built on a lie. I let out a quiet, bitter laugh, the last trace of warmth leaving my eyes, and pushed the door open. Hazel gasped, quickly wiping her eyes. Her nose was bright red as she forced a shaky smile. “Fiona! You came back! I was so scared you were gone for good.” She reached out to grab my hand, looking up at me with wide, pleading eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” I had loved her like a sister. We had filled out our college applications together, and my only birthday wish had been for the three of us to stay friends forever. And all this time, she had been laughing at me behind my back. “Hazel, is there something you’re keeping from me?” I asked. She didn’t expect the direct question. Her eyes darted away, and she remained silent for a long moment before shaking her head. “Of course not, Fifi. Did someone say something to you?” Connor watched me, his body rigid with tension. I pulled my fingers from Hazel’s grip, picked up my purse from the chair, and walked out. Hazel panicked, running after me and grabbing my coat from behind. “Fifi, you’re still coming with us tomorrow, right?” I didn’t answer her. Instead, I looked at Connor, whose face was a mask of anxiety. He forced a stiff smile and took my purse from my hand. “Come on, it’s just a trip. I’ll book the beach tickets right now. We’ll head straight to Miami five days after we get back from Montana, okay?” He pulled out his phone and booked the tickets. Within twenty seconds, the confirmation screen popped up. My heart remained dead and silent. It turned out that booking those beach tickets wasn’t difficult at all. It had only taken twenty seconds. I had just waited three years for them. Connor seemed to relax, his shoulders dropping as he insisted on driving me home. Hazel naturally slid into the front passenger seat. The dashboard still featured a pink custom decal that read: Princess Hazel’s Seat. When Connor first got his license, I bought him several cute car decorations, but he threw them all away, claiming they blocked his view. Yet, Hazel’s custom perfume bottle and matching phone mount were proudly displayed on his dashboard. I stared out the window, remaining silent as Hazel talked about wanting to eat bison steak two days in a row once they got to Montana. “Sure, whatever you want,” Connor promised, his voice soft and indulgent. Neither of them remembered that I had been a vegetarian for years. But it didn’t matter anymore. I watched the streetlights blur past the window. When the car finally stopped in front of my building, Connor looked back at me, his expression slightly apologetic. “Hazel has a lot of heavy bags, so it’s going to be hard to hail a cab tomorrow morning. I’m going to pick her up first, drop her bags off at the shipping center, and then meet you at the station, okay?” He reached out to pat my hair, but I flinched away. His hand hovered in the air for a second before he slowly let it drop. “Okay. See you tomorrow,” he murmured. I watched his car pull away, taking Hazel home. A notification popped up on my phone. My flight was departing in seven hours. I opened my weather app and checked the forecast for Miami. For the first time in years, my mind was completely at peace. The next morning, I arrived at the airport two hours early. Under the steady hum of the airport announcements, I went through security and boarded my flight. My phone vibrated constantly with messages from Connor and Hazel, asking where I was. I didn’t reply. I simply opened my gallery and stared at the photos of the ocean. Connor didn’t realize that the airport in Miami was right next to the beach, only a twenty-minute walk away. I didn’t have to wait for him anymore. I didn’t have to shape my life around Hazel’s tantrums. Two hours later, the plane touched down safely. The warm, salty ocean breeze hit my face the moment I stepped outside. I let out a genuine, happy laugh. I turned off airplane mode. The next second, my phone buzzed with a highly specific, custom ringtone.

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1 After Gwen was laid off, Owen took some annual leave to accompany her to the coast to clear her head. To keep me from overthinking, he casually dragged me along too. The three of us went beachcombing on the rocky shore. Gwen suggested a contest to see who could gather the most shells and crabs. I fell for it, carrying my little plastic bucket deep into the jagged reef. The tide rushed in fast. Waves rolled up, layer by layer, and a sudden, sharp pain shot through the sole of my foot. A piece of discarded broken glass had sliced right into my heel. “Owen, help me! I’m hurt!” But when I turned around, the rocky shore behind me was empty. I called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Clutching the sharp rocks, I limped back to the shore, one excruciating step at a time. By the time I finally collapsed onto the sandy path, a text message buzzed on my phone. It was a photo. Owen’s bucket was completely empty. Gwen’s bucket, however, was overflowing with crabs and glossy clams. Judging by the sheer volume, they had spent the afternoon filling it together. “Hey babe, I was carrying both buckets and couldn’t grab my phone. Gwen got a whole haul and I came in dead last. How did you do, Nora?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I had been missing for two hours, and all they cared about was who won the game. My foot was still bleeding, pulsing with sharp pain. I booked the earliest ticket out of the coastal town for the next morning. This trip was meant to comfort her anyway. I was never supposed to be here. I hailed a local moped taxi and rode alone to the small clinic. The doctor frowned as he used tweezers to pluck the shards of glass from my flesh. “This is deep. How did you get here alone? Where are your friends?” The sting of the rubbing alcohol made my fingertips go numb. “They’re back at the house,” I murmured. After wrapping it up, I borrowed a pair of crutches. Clutching my empty bucket, I slowly made my way back to the rental cottage. Night had fallen completely. The coastal village was dark, punctured only by the occasional bark of stray dogs. I have always been terrified of dogs, and I trembled with every step. When I pushed the front door open, a romantic movie was playing on the TV in the living room. Owen and Gwen were curled up on the sofa. Gwen’s hair was freshly blow-dried, her soft sweater swallowing her small frame as she snuggled into the cushions. Owen sat right beside her, the remote in his hand. He only looked up when the door clicked shut. “Babe, where have you been?” “At the clinic. I cut my foot.” He jumped up immediately, taking the crutches and supporting my weight, his brow furrowing deeply. “How do you even manage to get hurt beachcombing? You need to be more careful.” I stared at him, throat dry, unable to find words. He took the empty bucket from my hand. “Well, the results are in anyway. Gwen took first place, you’re second, and I’m last.” Gwen poked her head over the sofa, teasingly sticking her tongue out. “Oh, stop it. You helped me the whole time. You didn’t even try to look for your own; you just kept flipping rocks for me. I wouldn’t have caught a thing without you.” I just nodded. The cottage was thick with the heavy scent of seafood. The dining table was piled high with a feast they had prepared. My stomach churned. I do not eat seafood. I had told Owen this dozens of times. That was why I wanted to change the destination when we first planned this trip. Back then, he had told me, “This is Gwen’s layoff trip. She’s devastated. We’re here to support her, so let’s go with what she wants. If you don’t eat seafood, we can just walk along the beach.” That was how I ended up dragged into this. Gwen was in high spirits. She brought a small pan out of the kitchen, smiling warmly. “Nora, I made something even better.” She poured the sizzling herb butter over the baked sea bass. The rosemary crackled against the crispy skin. Then she drizzled the white wine reduction along the side. “Owen just taught me how to do this today. He said it’s the best way.” My mind went slightly blank. I was the one who taught Owen that technique. Back when he had no appetite, I had prepared a baked fish for him at home. How to sear it, how to baste it with hot butter to crisp the skin, I had explained it to him step by step. Yet, Owen had never once cooked it for me. Now, he was teaching it to Gwen. Gwen flaked off a piece of the tender fish, blew on it, and laughed. “Who wants the first bite?” Owen settled me into a chair and immediately held out his plate. “Me!” Gwen dropped the fish onto his plate with a giggle. “It’s delicious! You weren’t kidding, you really are a chef!” “Oh, don’t tease me,” Owen laughed. “But a meal like this needs a drink. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He opened the fridge. “I bought sodas and wine today. What do you girls want?” Gwen raised her hand. “I’ll have my usual.” “Sprite and red wine?” “Exactly!” He poured the red wine into a glass, topped it with Sprite, and handed it to her. “Perfect match!” Gwen took a sip, then slid the glass toward me. “Want a taste, Nora?” Owen looked at me expectantly. “Try it, Nora. Gwen used to drink this all the time at the office. Sprite and red wine, it’s light and tastes amazing. Honestly, the first time she mixed it for me, I was blown away.” The cut on my foot throbbed. “I’m on medication. I can’t drink.” Owen finally seemed to remember I had just come back from the clinic. He slapped his forehead, looking genuinely remorseful. “Right, I completely forgot. What do you want to drink instead then?” My hand tightened around my glass. Before we left, I had specifically reminded him about a local brand of sparkling orange press that was only sold on this part of the coast. I had seen reviews of it online and wanted to try it for months. That morning, when he went out to get drinks, I had said, “Remember to grab me two bottles of that orange press.” He had promised so quickly back then. “Got it. How could I ever forget the things you like?” But he did. He smacked his forehead again. “Ah, damn it! I meant to get you that orange soda.” Gwen quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Oh, Nora won’t mind a little thing like that.” She grabbed a clean glass and poured me some Sprite. The bubbles hissed and popped. “This works just as well. Soda is soda, right?” She handed me the cup, her fingers catching the warm overhead light. Her nails were painted a glossy cherry red. The edges were perfectly neat, without a single smudge. “So, what do you think? Pretty, right? I brought my own polish, and Owen just painted them for me. I ruined my nails at a salon last week, and he promised he’d paint them for me if he got the chance, so I brought the bottle. I was worried he’d be clumsy, but he’s actually amazing at it.” So, while I was clutching the jagged rocks, limping back to shore with blood pooling in my shoe, Owen was sitting in this cozy living room, carefully brushing cherry-red polish onto Gwen’s fingernails. Gwen leaned her chin on her hand, looking at me with a sweet smile. “Does Owen do this for you at home too, Nora?” “No.” Owen cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Stop teasing her. Nora doesn’t care for these kinds of things.” But I remembered when I had asked him to pick me up from the nail salon once. He had scowled at my freshly manicured hands. “The smell is toxic, and it’s a waste of money. Why do girls even like this stuff?” Yet here he was, painting Gwen’s nails with painstaking care. The seafood on the table steamed. Gwen ate happily while Owen kept piling food onto her plate, peeling shrimp and picking out fish bones for her. I sat there with nothing but a glass of Sprite. Out of the entire feast, there wasn’t a single thing I could eat. Owen finally noticed. “Why aren’t you eating?” “I don’t eat seafood.” “You’re just a picky eater, that’s why you’re so thin.” He turned back to Gwen with a chuckle. “See? Gwen isn’t picky at all. She eats small portions, but she’s always willing to try everything.” Gwen waved her hands defensively. “Oh, stop it!” Owen added naturally, “Back at the office, you’d always bring this tiny bowl, eat a few bites of whatever we had, and declare you were full. The whole department thought you were adorable.” Gwen blushed, tapping the back of his hand lightly with her chopsticks. “Be quiet.” Owen grinned and walked into the kitchen. When he came out, he held a small saucer. He placed a few peeled shrimp and a prime piece of fish belly on it, then slid it in front of Gwen. “You know what this is? Your kiddie plate! Remember when we got food and you insisted on a kids’ meal just because you thought the miniature plate was the cutest thing ever? We all died of cuteness!” Gwen blinked, her eyes curving into crescents. “You still remember that?” “Of course I do.” He couldn’t remember my seafood allergy, or my orange soda, or that I shouldn’t be drinking alcohol with my injury. But he remembered Gwen’s favorite drinks and every little detail of their shared meals. I quietly poked at the plain rice in my bowl. Owen sighed, getting up to rummage through a bag near the sofa. “Almost forgot, I still have some bread here.” He tossed a squished loaf of white bread onto the table. “Gwen slept in this morning, so I bought some bread in case she missed breakfast.” Gwen smiled. “I told you we wouldn’t finish all of that.” Owen pushed the bag toward me, his eyes lingering on Gwen. “See? It came in handy.” Then he looked at me. “There’s still half a loaf left. Eat some of this so you don’t starve.” The bread was dry and squashed. The sweet cream filling in the center had already been eaten; only the dry crusts remained. I tore off a piece and chewed. It was so dry it scraped my throat. Seeing me eat, Owen looked relieved. “That’s my good girl. We’re on vacation, Nora. You can’t be too picky. Just get some food in you and enjoy the trip.” I didn’t argue. I just lowered my head and forced the dry bread down my throat. At that table, two people feasted on fresh seafood. One sat chewing on dry, leftover crusts. Once they finished, Owen started clearing the table, offering to do the dishes. Gwen stopped him, glancing at my bandaged foot. “Owen, go sit with Nora. Her foot is hurt; she needs you. I’ll do the dishes.” Owen smiled. “No need. Didn’t we agree? I cook, you clean. But I’ll handle it tonight.” Gwen paused, then beamed. “You still remember our rule?” “Of course I do.” Owen took the plates. “Besides, Nora walked back on her own, so it can’t be that bad. She looks fragile, but she’s actually tough. She’s not that delicate.” I sat in my chair, the pain in my foot throbbing in waves. But Owen had already turned away, rolling up his sleeves. “The water is freezing tonight. I don’t want a pretty girl like you ruining her hands.” “Oh, Owen, you’re too good to be true,” Gwen hummed, turning to look at me. “Nora, you are so lucky to have him.” I clutched the dry plastic bag of bread, my mind utterly blank. Lucky? We had been together for five years. In all that time, he had barely stepped foot in our kitchen. “Let me help you clear the plates then,” Gwen said, humming a tune as she carried the dishes into the kitchen. “Careful, don’t drop them,” Owen called out. “Why are you nagging me like my mom?” “Because you’re clumsy. I have to keep an eye on you.” One washed, the other dried. The sound of running water, light laughter, and the dialogue from the movie melted together. The cottage felt warm, lively, and complete, like a home. Just not mine. I slipped the dry bread back into the bag. It was too hard to swallow anyway. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a notification from the transit app. The ticket for the 6:20 AM ferry and bus ride back to the city had been confirmed. I stared at the screen, and suddenly, the lingering ache of the evening didn’t seem so unbearable. Since I couldn’t get my foot wet, I wanted to take a quick sponge bath. I pushed myself up with the crutches, my heel stinging instantly. Owen was just coming out of the kitchen. I looked at him, but before I could speak, Gwen’s voice drifted from the adjacent bedroom. “Owen? Can you grab my pajamas for me? I forgot to bring them in.” Owen didn’t hesitate. He turned instantly. “Where are they?” “In the top zipper of my suitcase.” Gwen added with a giggle, “I would’ve asked Nora, but her foot is hurt. Nora, don’t get mad! Owen and I are strictly platonic!” Owen glanced back at me. “She’s not the jealous type.” Then he walked straight into Gwen’s room. He didn’t notice how hard it was for me to stand, let alone bathe myself. But he heard her request for pajamas perfectly. A moment later, Owen walked out holding a set of light satin pajamas. Wrapped inside them was a strawberry-print bralette. He caught sight of it and let out a soft laugh. “Gwen, the strawberries are a bit childish, don’t you think?” An embarrassed shriek echoed from the bathroom. “Owen! Shut up! You’re so gross!” Owen laughed, hanging the clothes on the bathroom doorknob. “Alright, alright, I’m not looking.” His voice was light, dripping with effortless playfulness. I kept my head down, using the wall to support myself as I hobbled into the other bathroom. Despite my care, a drop of water splashed onto the bandage. A sharp, searing pain shot up my leg, making me gasp. I leaned heavily against the sink for a long time, waiting for the agony to subside. When I finally came out, Owen was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up. “All done?” I nodded. As if suddenly remembering, he asked, “Does your foot still hurt?” Before I could answer, Gwen emerged from her room, blow-drying her hair. “Owen, you promised you’d talk with me tonight. I’m still feeling really down. It’s just, getting fired is so embarrassing.” Owen set his phone down immediately. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. They didn’t deserve you. It’s their loss.” He walked over, plugged in the hair dryer, and gently lifted her damp strands, blowing them dry with practiced ease. “You always know just what to say,” she whispered. A quiet ache settled in my chest. In five years, Owen had rarely dried my hair. Whenever I asked, he did it begrudgingly, with heavy sighs, until I eventually stopped asking altogether. Turns out, he was capable of doing it willingly. He just didn’t want to do it for me. After her hair was dry, Owen turned to me. “Nora, I’m going to sit in her room for a bit to talk things through.” “Now?” “Yeah.” He softened his voice, as if trying to soothe me. “She just lost her job, and she’s emotionally fragile right now. I’m just going to talk to her, nothing else. Besides, if there were actually something going on between us, would I have brought you along on this trip?” I had asked him countless times to go on trips with me. A weekend getaway, a cabin in the mountains, anything. Every time, he had excuses. No time, too hard to get leave, travel is exhausting, we should just rest at home. But the moment Gwen got laid off, he took his annual leave, booked this rental, bought the tickets, and dragged me along as an afterthought. I looked at him and nodded quietly. “Go ahead.” He walked to Gwen’s door, then paused. “Make sure you sleep early. Don’t walk around too much on that foot.” Gwen poked her head out, offering a playful pout. “Don’t worry, Nora! I promise to return your boy in one piece later!” The door closed, leaving the cottage dead silent. But the walls were thin. I could hear every word from the next room. Gwen talked about the office, which boss was the biggest micromanager, which colleagues gossiped behind her back, the projects they had pulled all-nighters to finish. Owen’s laughter punctuated her stories. “You still remember that?” “Of course! You were so tired you almost poured coffee into the printer!” Gwen laughed even harder. “You weren’t any better!” Their voices floated through the wall, light, familiar, and filled with endless shared memories. Whenever I had asked Owen about his work, he would shut down. “I’m exhausted, Nora. Let’s not talk about work. You wouldn’t understand the office politics anyway. It’s boring.” It wasn’t boring. It just wasn’t meant for me. I sat on the edge of the bed, opened my suitcase, and began to pack. My clothes, my toiletries, my charger, my ID, and the medication from the clinic. My foot throbbed with every movement, but I kept going, packing everything away. By the time I finished, it was 1:30 AM. Owen hadn’t returned. At 2:00 AM, I heard the crack of beer cans opening next door. At 3:00 AM, Gwen started crying softly. Owen’s voice was low and tender. “It’s not your fault. You’re amazing. You’ll find something better, and I’ll be right there to help you search.” I lay in the dark, my eyes wide open as the sky slowly turned gray. At 5:30 AM, my silent alarm vibrated. I shut it off and stood up with my crutches. The house was quiet. The living room light was still on, casting a dim glow over the empty beer cans on the coffee table. Gwen’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. As my crutch brushed against the frame, the door nudged open a fraction. Inside, Owen and Gwen were asleep on the same bed. Gwen was curled up at the headboard, Owen’s jacket draped over her shoulders. Owen lay curled at the foot of the bed. They were on opposite ends, as if they really had just fallen asleep from talking too much. But looking at them, I didn’t even have the energy to demand an explanation. I walked to the living room, placed the room key on the table, and dragged my suitcase out of the cottage. The morning sea breeze was freezing. The shuttle driver loaded my suitcase into the trunk and looked back. “Anyone else?” I looked at the quiet, glowing cottage one last time. I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Just me.”

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1 My boyfriend’s childhood best friend, Hailey, was hopelessly clueless when it came to love. To protect her, Paul had practically turned himself into a relationship guru, an expert at spotting toxic men. Giving her the silent treatment? Dump him. Refusing to post her on social media? Dump him. Counting pennies and acting cheap? Dump him. Every time Hailey got her heart broken, Paul was right there by her side, comforting her with gentle words, whispering that the next one would be better. On our sixth anniversary, Hailey showed up at our place again, her eyes red and swollen. “Paul, my new boyfriend has this girl best friend he grew up with.” “He never remembers what I like to eat. Whenever we go out, he only orders the dishes she likes.” “He stays up all night helping her with her work projects, and he even drives across town in the pouring rain just to pick her up.” “And yesterday, he promised to spend my birthday with me, but she called him, and he just left. He abandoned me.” “Tell me, Paul, does he even love me?” Paul frowned as he listened, his eyes softening with deep pity as he gently stroked Hailey’s hair. “Hailey, break up with him.” “Men know men best. He has no boundaries, and he is trying to have his cake and eat it too. He doesn’t deserve you.” My chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through my ribs. For six long years, Paul had openly, blatantly favored Hailey. Every time I got upset about it, he would give me a cold look and tell me I was overthinking, that I was being paranoid. But it turned out he understood the concept of boundaries perfectly. He knew exactly what was inappropriate. Perhaps I should take the advice Paul just gave. Perhaps it was time to end this off-track relationship. Hailey nodded trustingly, wiping her tears. “Paul, I’ll do whatever you say.” Right there, she called her boyfriend, coldly announced the breakup, and immediately blocked and deleted his number. Paul pinched her cheek with a fond, indulgent smile. “That’s my girl. Don’t waste your time or energy on trash like him.” “What do you want to do today? I’m all yours.” Hailey smiled through her tears, playfully wrapping her arms around Paul’s bicep. “Let’s go see that new movie that just came out!” Paul didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his phone and booked the tickets right away. Watching their easy, intimate interaction, my heart sank into a cold, dark place. Paul never bothered to keep his distance from Hailey when I was around. Whenever I expressed how uncomfortable it made me, all I got was his cold, defensive lecturing. “Nora, can you please stop being so insecure?” “Hailey and I grew up together. She’s practically my sister. Am I supposed to just cut her out of my life because I’m dating you?” I had always been left speechless, forcing myself to swallow the bitterness and pretend to be broad-minded. But now, the truth was glaring. He knew his behavior was crossing the line; he just didn’t care enough about my feelings to stop. As the two of them got up to leave, I lightly tapped my knuckles on the table, my voice calm and even. “Paul, you forgot. We’re supposed to sign the lease with the landlord in an hour.” Three days ago, Paul had found a beautiful, spacious loft downtown. The owner was in a rush to relocate and had dropped the price significantly. Paul had paid the deposit on the spot. When he came home, he had held me tight, his eyes bright with excitement as he promised me a future. “Nora, once we sign the contract, we can start decorating. We’ll paint the walls in that soft cream tone you love, and you can pick out all the furniture. We’ll even set up a nursery for our future baby. We’re going to be so happy.” He had painted such a beautiful picture. Now, I realized it was nothing but sandcastles in the wind. Sure enough, Paul’s brow furrowed in irritation. “We can sign a contract anytime, Nora. Hailey just got her heart broken. What could possibly be more important than being there for her right now?” I fell silent, staring at him. My silence only seemed to make him more annoyed. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now? Nora, be mature. Hailey is practically your sister too. Why can’t you just put yourself in her shoes for once?” I cut him off, my voice devoid of emotion. “Fine. Go ahead. I’ll head back first.” I didn’t wait for his reply. I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out. It was always like this. Whenever Hailey was involved, Paul would abandon me without a second thought. Compared to their deep, unbreakable bond, I was nothing but an intrusive stranger. I was tired of playing a supporting role in their twisted little drama. When I got home, I locked myself in the study and focused entirely on my work. The sky outside turned from a dusty orange to a deep, heavy black. Around dinner time, my phone buzzed. It was a long text from Paul. “Nora, go to the grocery store and pick up the ingredients for that pasta Hailey likes. We’re going to a karaoke bar to help her blow off some steam, so I’ll be home late.” I stared at the screen for a moment, then locked my phone without replying. Paul didn’t ask if I had eaten. He didn’t ask how I was doing. Every single word was about Hailey. Anyone looking at his phone would think she was the one he was dating. It was nearly midnight when Paul finally returned, practically carrying a heavily intoxicated Hailey. I walked out of the study, leaning against the doorframe as I watched him gently lay her down on the sofa, carefully feeding her warm honey water. Once she was settled, Paul wiped the sweat from his forehead and opened the fridge. He froze, then turned to me, his face tightening with displeasure. “Where are the groceries I asked you to get?” I cracked open a can of iced cola and took a slow sip. “I didn’t buy them.” “Paul, I am not your maid.” Paul’s jaw clenched, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “Nora, you know Hailey is going through a rough time. Do you really have to pick tonight of all nights to pick a fight with me?” I didn’t bother arguing. I turned around and went back into the study, locking the door behind me. The apartment fell quiet for a short while, but soon, the clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen. Paul was preparing Hailey’s lunch box for work the next day. A year ago, Hailey had food poisoning from a cheap takeout place and ended up in the hospital on an IV drip for three days. Since then, Paul had insisted on cooking fresh, balanced, and organic meals for her every single night so she could take them to the office. He made sure she had a different menu every day of the week. He had been doing this religiously for three years. Yet, when I had a high fever last winter and begged him to make me a simple bowl of soup, he had told me to just order delivery because cooking was too much hassle. I took a deep breath, forcing the memories out of my head. A soft knock sounded at the study door. Paul’s voice through the wood was much softer now, laced with a rare hint of guilt. “Nora, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have bailed on you for the lease. Let’s go sign it next Sunday, okay? I’ll make sure to bring your anniversary gift then, too.” I didn’t answer. Every time we fought over Hailey, he would eventually come to me with a half-hearted apology, offering a tiny olive branch. And every single time, I had accepted it, stepping down from the pedestal of my own self-respect. But today, I was done pretending. Suddenly, a loud, violent retching sound came from the living room. Hailey had thrown up all over the plush white sofa. The sharp, sour stench of vomit quickly filled the apartment. I covered my nose, my patience completely evaporating. I opened the door and looked at Paul coldly. “Hailey is not staying here tonight. Get her out and take her back to her own place.” Paul’s face went instantly dark. “Nora, I already apologized! Why do you have to be so malicious toward Hailey? Does it kill you to see me show her a little bit of basic human decency?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. This apartment was bought entirely by my parents as a pre-marital asset for me. Yet, Paul treated it like a second home for Hailey. Her favorite stuffed animals sat on my couch, her expensive skincare products lined my bathroom shelves, and Paul had even stuffed two sets of her pajamas into my closet. This home was saturated with her existence. Paul stared at me, his jaw set stubbornly. “I’m not leaving her alone like this. She’s staying here tonight so I can keep an eye on her.” A wave of profound exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t say another word. I walked back into the master bedroom and shut the door with a firm click. Paul didn’t follow me. In the quiet darkness of the room, I pulled out my phone. I booked a one-way ticket out of the country, and then I listed my apartment on a local real estate website for rent. I was done wasting my youth on this dead-end relationship. A clean break was the only way out. The next morning, when I walked out of the bedroom, the living room floor had been thoroughly scrubbed and the couch covers had been replaced with fresh ones. Hailey was sitting at the dining table, waving at me with a sweet, innocent smile. “Morning, Nora! Come have some breakfast. I’m so sorry for the mess I made last night!” Paul, who had been smiling warmly at Hailey a second before, instantly masked his face with a cold, indifferent expression the moment he saw me. He pushed a plate of pancakes and bacon toward me without looking at me, then turned back to Hailey. “Grab your bag, sweetie. I’ll drive you to the office.” I didn’t touch the food. I looked directly at Paul and said, “Paul, let’s break up.” The car keys in Paul’s hand slipped, clattering loudly against the hardwood floor. His brows knitted together in a fierce scowl, his voice trembling with rising anger. “Nora, are you serious? Is this game ever going to end?” “You’ve been acting completely irrational since yesterday, and now you’re throwing around the word ‘breakup’ like it’s a joke. What exactly do you want from me?” My voice was flat, empty of any anger or pain. “I don’t want anything. I just realized this relationship has become completely pointless.” Paul and I worked at the same firm, but Hailey’s office was in the exact opposite direction. Yet, every single morning, Paul would leave an hour early to drive across town, pick Hailey up, and drop her off at her office before coming to work. When I had suggested she take the subway, Paul had snapped at me. “Hailey likes to sleep in. She can’t handle the morning rush on transit. It’s safer and easier if I just drive her.” In the four years Paul and I had worked at the same company, we had never commuted to work together once. I had tolerated it for far too long. Now, the weight was finally lifting. Hailey stood beside him, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes welled up with tears. “Nora, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have ruined your anniversary, and I shouldn’t have kept taking Paul away from you.” “Please don’t break up because of me. I promise I’ll stay away. I won’t get in between you two ever again.” She began to sob, her shoulders shaking pitifully. Paul’s heart visibly broke for her. He pulled her behind him, shielding her from my gaze, and wiped her tears with his thumb. When he looked back at me, his eyes were cold and sharp as daggers. “Hailey, this has nothing to do with you.” “When someone is determined to be bitter and cruel, nothing you do will ever be good enough for them.” Paul scooped up his keys from the floor, grabbed Hailey’s hand, and walked out of the apartment without looking back. It was a scene I had witnessed dozens of times. Every time Paul and I had a disagreement, Hailey would play the martyr with her tears and apologies, and Paul would inevitably take her side, convinced I was the villain. I had never won against Hailey. But the good news was, I didn’t have to compete anymore. The apartment grew blissfully quiet. I had no appetite, so I grabbed my bag and headed straight to the office. When Paul walked into the office later that morning, a faint trace of Hailey’s sweet, floral perfume drifted off his clothes. He didn’t bring me my usual morning coffee, nor did he leave any snacks on my desk. He walked past me with his chin up, treating me like a stranger. Even our colleagues noticed the icy atmosphere, exchanging subtle, curious glances. I ignored them all, keeping my head down and focusing on my reports. After lunch, Paul blocked my path in the quiet stairwell. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight and erratic, his eyes filled with a strange, defensive hurt. “Nora, do you really have to do this?” “You haven’t said a single word to me all morning, and you went out of your way to avoid me at lunch.” “I know I was harsh this morning, but you can’t keep using a breakup to punish me. What do you want me to do? Just tell me!” A small ripple of emotion stirred in my chest, but it was quickly snuffed out by cold, hard logic. Paul cared about me, yes. But his care was a fragile, conditional thing. The moment Hailey whistled, his love for me vanished into thin air. I reached up and firmly pushed his hands off my shoulders, looking him dead in the eye. “Paul, let me ask you a question.” “When Hailey’s boyfriend prioritized his female friend, you immediately saw through him. You said he had no boundaries, that he wanted to have his cake and eat it too.” “So why is it that when you do the exact same thing to me, you think it’s perfectly fine?” “You told Hailey to break up with him because he was trash. Weren’t you actually telling me that breaking up with you is the only logical choice I have?” Paul froze, the color draining from his face until he looked ghostly pale. His lips parted, but no sound came out. “Nora, I…” I offered him a small, polite smile, not caring to hear whatever excuse he was about to concoct. I turned on my heel and walked back to my desk. I used to think Paul was just oblivious, that I was being overly sensitive. But seeing how fiercely he defended Hailey’s boundaries made me realize how foolish I had been. He understood everything. He just chose not to apply those rules to me. As soon as the clock struck five, I grabbed my coat to leave. Paul stepped in front of my desk, his expression soft and pleading. “Nora, please. Just give me one more chance. Let’s grab dinner and talk this through. Please.” Unable to withstand his desperate begging, I finally relented and followed him to a nearby Italian restaurant. Paul reverted to the boy I had fallen in love with years ago. He pulled out my chair, poured my water, ordered my favorite dishes, and kept a steady supply of napkins near my hand. During the meal, he looked at me with absolute sincerity. “Nora, I spent the whole afternoon thinking.” “I know I’ve crossed the line, and I’ve been incredibly selfish. Hailey is just a childhood friend, nothing more. You are the woman I love.” “From now on, I promise I will put you first. Your feelings will always be my priority. I will never make you feel second best again.” Looking into his earnest eyes, a tiny fracture of hesitation formed in my resolve. I opened my mouth, about to speak, when his phone began to vibrate violently on the table. The caller ID flashed: “Princess Hailey.” Paul answered it instantly. From the receiver, Hailey’s hysterical sobbing echoed loudly through the quiet restaurant. “Paul… my ex is here at my office. He’s cornered me… I’m so scared, please help me…” The call abruptly disconnected with a loud crash. Paul bolted upright, his face pale with terror. I sat there, watching him silently. Realizing how terrible he looked, Paul grabbed my hand, his grip tight and desperate. “Nora, just this once. This is the last time, I swear. We grew up together. I can’t just let her get hurt.” I let out a long, quiet sigh. “Let’s go. I’ll come with you.” No matter how much I disliked Hailey’s role in my relationship, I wasn’t a monster. If she was in actual physical danger, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. Paul drove like a maniac, weaving through traffic and running yellow lights. When we arrived at Hailey’s office building, a crowd had already gathered near the lobby. Hailey’s ex-boyfriend, Marcus, was red-faced and screaming, his hand clamped tightly around Hailey’s hair as he dragged her backward. “You think you can just dump me? Who the hell do you think you are, Hailey? I dump people, nobody dumps me!” Paul’s eyes went wild. He let go of my hand, balled his fists, and charged into the crowd, slamming Marcus into the glass doors. The lobby erupted into chaos. People were screaming, security guards were running, and someone was shouting to call the police. I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching Paul fight. He was taking punches to the face, his lip split and bleeding, but he refused to let go of Marcus, throwing wild, vicious blows to protect Hailey. During our university days, Paul had always been a quiet, gentle scholar. He detested violence and had never raised his hand against anyone. Even when I was harassed by a drunk guy at a bar years ago, Paul had calmly pulled me away and comforted me, choosing peace over conflict. He had never fought for me like this. This raw, animalistic protectiveness was something he reserved solely for Hailey. Eventually, security and bystanders managed to pull the two men apart. Marcus slipped away into the night, nursing a broken nose. Hailey immediately threw her arms around Paul’s waist, burying her face in his chest, shaking like a leaf. Paul wrapped his arms around her tightly, resting his chin on her head. His face was bruised and bloodied, but his eyes were filled with a tenderness so deep it made my stomach churn. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. You’re safe.” I stood outside the circle, watching them. The distance between Paul and me felt wider than an ocean. I remembered how our friends used to tease them back in college. “Why do you even bother looking for a boyfriend, Hailey? Paul is basically your knight in shining armor.” Hailey would blush furiously, while Paul would laugh it off. “Stop talking nonsense. Nora is my girlfriend, she’s the only one for me.” But his actions had always painted a different picture. I didn’t wait for them to notice me. I turned around and walked out into the cool night air. Paul didn’t come home that night. Around 2:00 AM, he sent me a brief text. “Nora, Hailey is traumatized. I’m staying at her place tonight to make sure she’s safe. Please understand.” I didn’t reply. Instead, I grabbed several cardboard boxes and began packing. I packed every single article of clothing, every shoe, every book, and every personal item belonging to Paul and Hailey that was scattered across my apartment. Before I went to bed, my phone buzzed again. It was a message from Hailey. It was a photo. In the dimly lit apartment, Hailey was leaning up, her eyes closed as she pressed her lips against Paul’s. Paul’s face was flushed red, but his hand was resting firmly on her waist, holding her close. Along with the photo was a text: “Nora, to be honest, I’ve always loved Paul.” “I broke up with Marcus just to prove a point, to show you who Paul actually cares about when the stakes are high.” “When are you finally going to get the hint and give him back to me?” I calmly took a screenshot of the message, saved it to my drive, and turned off my phone. The next morning, I called a local courier service to pick up all the heavy boxes and deliver them to Hailey’s address. … Paul opened the door to Hailey’s apartment, his eyes widening in confusion as he saw the stack of heavy cardboard boxes blocking the hallway. The courier driver held up a clipboard, his voice thoroughly bored. “Mr. Paul? These packages were sent by a Ms. Nora.” “It’s cash on delivery. Please scan this code to pay the courier fee.” Across the side of the top box, written in bold, permanent black marker, was a single, devastating word: OVER. It was Nora’s handwriting. Paul’s head began to spin, the blood rushing to his ears with a deafening roar.

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1 Gavin and his childhood best friend, Vicky, had always been at each other’s throats, neither ever willing to give an inch. On our wedding day, determined to ruin Gavin’s life, she paid a group of men to assault me on my way to the venue. Then, she arranged for the video of my torment to be played on the giant screens during the reception. In the hospital room, Gavin’s eyes were bloodshot with rage. He clenched his fists, preparing to storm out of the room. “She couldn’t beat me, so she took it out on you! Grace, wait for me here. I’m going to rip her skin off today!” But thirty minutes after he left, his iPad on the bedside table lit up, syncing his incoming text messages. The top pinned contact was Vicky. The screen filled with a series of sickening messages that instantly made my throat go dry. Vicky: Using the excuse of settling scores just to pin me against the wall and kiss me? Is that how you stand up for your poor little girlfriend? Vicky: But the way your eyes were red, like you wanted to eat me alive… it was completely addictive. Gavin: Grace is innocent. She’s sacrificed so much for me. I really love her, Vicky. We can’t keep making these mistakes. Vicky: Fine. Then I’m going to spend the night at my boyfriend’s place. Gavin: Don’t you dare. Go to our usual spot and wait for me. Gavin: As for Grace, I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life. I don’t want to hurt her, but I… I can’t seem to kick my addiction to you. The screen went black. I gripped the edge of my blanket, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip until I tasted copper. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. I quickly shoved the iPad back under my pillow, picked up my phone, and dialed 911. The door to the room swung open. Gavin walked in, carrying a plastic takeout container. The moment his eyes landed on the numbers on my screen, he lunged forward, snatching the phone from my hands and tapping the red end-call button. “Grace, what are you doing? You can’t call the police!” My voice was ice. “Give me my phone. I want Vicky in prison.” “Have you even thought this through?” Gavin wrapped his arms tightly around me, holding me against his chest. “Once a case is opened, every detail of what happened to you will be put on public record. Those videos will be played in court over and over as evidence!” “The media will find out. The public will find out. Everyone will look at you with pity and disgust! I can’t let you go through that kind of trauma!” “But she hired men to assault me!” I pushed him away with all my strength. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I be the one hiding in the dark? I want her to pay!” Gavin dropped to his knees by the bedside, grasping my wrists. “Leave it to me, please. I’ve already punished her severely.” “I promise you, I will make her life a living hell. Just trust me, okay?” I stared at his desperate face, suddenly feeling like I was looking at a complete stranger. During our junior year of college, on my birthday, Vicky had intentionally poured a full glass of red wine down the front of my white dress. Gavin had stood up instantly, flipping the heavy wooden table. Plates and glasses shattered across the restaurant floor. “Vicky, are you out of your mind?” he had screamed. When Vicky claimed it was an accident, Gavin grabbed a bottle of beer from the neighboring table and poured it directly over her head. “My hand slipped too. Get the hell out of here.” He had smashed the empty bottle on the floor. From that day on, I truly believed he would always protect me. “Did you actually fight her?” I asked quietly. Gavin buried his face in the crook of my neck, his shoulders trembling as he avoided the question. “Grace, as long as I’m alive, I will never let anyone hurt you again. Let’s not involve the police. Let me handle this.” I looked down, about to speak, when a scent drifted into my nose. It was a faint, crisp aroma of lemon sea salt. Vicky only wore one brand of perfume, and that was her signature scent. My eyes drifted down to his collar. Tucked beneath his slightly open shirt was a dark, fresh red mark. “What’s that on your neck?” Gavin’s hand flew to his throat. His entire body went rigid. He quickly pulled his collar up to cover the mark. “A scratch from when I was dealing with Vicky earlier.” “A scratch? Or a hickey?” Gavin’s expression turned defensive and strained. “Grace, what are you implying? You’re just too stressed right now. You’re letting your imagination run wild.” He stood up, walking over to the table to open the plastic container. “I went across town to get you that hot chicken broth you love. You haven’t eaten all day. Have some warm soup first.” He blew on a spoonful of broth and held it to my lips. The scent of lemon sea salt washed over me again. I shoved his hand away. The soup spilled across the sheets as I leaned over the edge of the bed, dry-heaving violently. Gavin reached out to pat my back, but I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” “Okay, okay, I won’t touch you.” Gavin backed away, raising his hands in retreat. “Take it easy, honey. I’ll go get the doctor to check on you.” He turned and practically fled from the room. For a moment, I had actually believed he was protecting me from public scrutiny. But the mark on his neck and the text messages on the iPad made the truth sickeningly clear. He didn’t want me to call the police because he wanted to protect Vicky. For the next two weeks, Gavin never left my side. He washed my face, fed me my meals, and stayed awake through the night. Whenever I tossed and turned in my sleep, he would instantly sit up, hold my hand, and whisper, “Don’t be scared, honey. I’m right here.” During her morning rounds, the nurse smiled at me. “Your husband is so incredibly devoted. Every time I check on you during my night shifts, he hasn’t closed his eyes once.” I looked at Gavin. “Yes, he’s always been this good to me.” I remembered the morning we got our marriage license. Gavin had just put on his suit when Vicky called, claiming her stomach was cramping so badly she was rolling on the floor, begging him to drive her to the emergency room. Gavin had barked into the phone, “If you’re sick, dial 911! I’m getting married today. I wouldn’t come to you even if the sky collapsed!” He had blocked her number right in front of me, taken my hand, and walked out the door. I used to think a man like that would love me forever. “Gavin, I want to call the police,” I said, bringing it up once more. The spoon in Gavin’s hand paused. “Why are you bringing this up again?” He sat on the edge of my bed. “I told you, I’ve already dealt with her.” “I can’t let it go.” Gavin raised his hand and suddenly slapped himself hard across the face. The sound was deafening in the quiet room. Then, he slapped himself again on the other cheek. “It’s all my fault!” He continued to strike his own face, left and right. “I failed to protect you! I’m useless!” Bright red marks quickly bloomed across his cheeks. “Grace, do you really want to rip open your wounds and show them to the entire world? Hit me instead. Use me to get your anger out. Just don’t call the police, please. I am begging you.” I pulled my hands back, staying silent. Gavin sank to the floor, covering his face as he sobbed. At eight that evening, Gavin’s phone rang. “It’s the office. I need to take this outside,” he said, stepping out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, I sat up and pulled his backup phone from the bedside drawer. I unlocked it and opened his ride-sharing app history from our wedding day. That morning, Gavin had told me there was an emergency with the venue decorations and that he had to head over early, instructing me to take a different car. But the ride history showed his pickup from our apartment complex, and his destination wasn’t the hotel. It was Vicky’s apartment. Next, I opened his synced messages with Vicky. Vicky: You have to keep Grace quiet. Do not let her call the cops under any circumstances! Vicky: Don’t forget, half the cash used to pay off those thugs came from your credit card. If she goes to the police, you’re going down as an accomplice! Gavin: I’m staying by her side. She trusts me completely. She won’t call the police. Vicky: Then when are you coming over to see me? Gavin: As soon as she falls asleep. My chest heaved, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely hold the device. He had abandoned me in my wedding dress to go to Vicky’s bed. He was the one who had funded my assault. I carefully placed the phone back into the drawer. The door opened, and Gavin walked back in. “Honey, why aren’t you sleeping yet?” “I was just about to. If work is busy, you don’t have to stay here with me.” “That’s out of the question. I’ve already taken leave. Once you’re discharged, I’ll take you on a nice trip to help you clear your head.” Gavin stroked my hair gently. “Okay. Let’s get discharged tomorrow then.” I just wanted to get away from him. When we returned to our apartment the next day, all the red wedding decorations had been stripped from the walls, replaced with neutral cream curtains and carpets. Gavin poured me a glass of warm water, then tapped on his phone. My phone buzzed with a bank notification. He had transferred two thousand dollars into my account. “Grace, take this money. Go buy yourself some new clothes or jewelry. From now on, I’ll hand over my entire paycheck to you every month.” Gavin sat down beside me. “Keep it. I don’t need it.” I went to transfer the money back, but he stopped me. “Please keep it. I just want to make things up to you.” Just then, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Gavin’s brow furrowed. He stood up and went to open it. Vicky was standing in the hallway, wearing a tight, bright red slip dress. “Well, look at that. I heard Grace was finally out of the hospital, so I thought I’d drop by and pay my respects.” Vicky craned her neck, trying to peer into the living room. Gavin blocked her view, his face turning dark. “What are you doing here? Get the hell out!” “Why are you standing in the doorway, Gavin?” Vicky let out a soft laugh. “Scared she’ll lose her mind if she sees me?” Gavin grabbed Vicky’s wrist, dragging her forcefully away from the door, before slamming it shut behind them. They were accomplices, yet they were putting on this elaborate show of hatred in front of me. I wanted to see how they acted when they thought I wasn’t looking. I stood up silently, walked to the door, and pressed my eye against the peephole. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway were bright. Vicky threw Gavin’s hand off her, shoving her finger hard against his chest. “What’s with the attitude, Gavin?” Vicky whispered, her voice sharp. “Are you actually feeling guilty now that you’ve seen her pathetic state?” Gavin grabbed her finger, pulling it away. “I told you to leave her alone!” Vicky let out a cold sneer. “Don’t forget, you were the one who provided the escape money for those guys! If she goes to the police and they catch them, we both go to prison!” “In fact, maybe I should just walk in right now and tell her exactly where you were on our wedding morning…” Vicky reached for the doorknob. “Shut up!” Gavin grabbed her arm, pulling her back and pinning her violently against the white wall of the corridor. He leaned down, pressing his lips hard against hers. Vicky pushed weakly against his chest once or twice, then wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Right outside my door, they lose themselves in a passionate, desperate embrace. Gavin’s hand slipped beneath the hem of her red dress. I let go of the doorknob and took two steps back. I had no desire to watch this garbage anymore. I sat down, took out my phone, and dialed my grandmother’s number. “Grandma? Are you home?” “Yes, sweetie. What’s wrong? Why are you calling this late?” her warm voice drifted through the line. “I want to come home.” “Is Gavin coming with you?” “No, just me. I’m resigning from my job here, Grandma. I want to move back and live with you permanently.” “Of course, honey. I’ll get your room ready for you.” After hanging up, I booked an intercity bus ticket for three days later. For the next three days, I never mentioned Vicky, and I never brought up the police. Every morning, I got up early to cook Gavin breakfast, and every evening, I ironed his shirts and hung them neatly in the closet. Gavin smiled at me over dinner. “Honey, I’m so glad you’ve finally moved past it. Let’s just focus on our life together and leave the past behind us.” I nodded slowly. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.” On my final night, I sat on the living room sofa. My phone screen lit up with a video message from an unknown number. I opened the file. The video was taken in a hotel room. Gavin was lying on the bed with his eyes closed. “Gavin, who makes you feel better? Me, or Grace?” Vicky’s voice came from behind the camera. Without opening his eyes, Gavin rolled over and pulled her into his arms. “Why bring her up now? She’s like a log in bed, completely lifeless. She doesn’t have half your fire. Stop talking and come here.” Vicky giggled at the lens before placing the phone face-down on the nightstand. The screen went dark, but the muffled, explicit sounds continued to play. A text message followed immediately from the same number. See that, Grace? Your husband already thinks of you as damaged goods. He’s in my bed every single day. He’s coming over tonight, too. Want to come watch? I stared at the screen, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. The kitchen faucet turned off. Gavin wiped his hands on a towel and walked out. He glanced at his phone, then walked into the bedroom to grab his coat. “Grace, a major bug just crashed the company servers. The manager wants me in the office immediately. Go to sleep early, don’t wait up for me.” “Going out this late?” I asked from the sofa. “Yeah, that’s just how the tech industry is.” Gavin walked to the door, stepping into his shoes. He walked back to the sofa, leaned down, and kissed my forehead. “Be a good girl and wait for me to come home.” The lock clicked shut. As his footsteps faded down the hall, I didn’t hesitate. I packed my suitcase, grabbed my coat, and headed straight to the bus station. At eleven-thirty that night, Gavin unlocked the front door, carrying a bag of takeout. The apartment was pitch black. “Grace, I’m home! I brought you those grilled skewers you like…” Gavin flicked the light switch. The living room was empty. His smile faltered. He walked quickly into the bedroom. “Grace?” The bed was empty, the sheets folded neatly. He pulled open the sliding closet doors. My side of the closet was completely bare. He ran into the bathroom. Half of the toiletries on the counter were gone. He rushed back to the living room, and his eyes landed on the coffee table. Sitting there was his promise ring, alongside the credit card he had given me. Owen pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed my number. The cold, robotic voice of the operator filled the quiet apartment. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again. Gavin hung up and redialed. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service…

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1 We had been together four years, yet my phone held no clear photo of Elena’s face. Each time I raised the camera, she would flinch away, claiming she was not photogenic or hated being seen online. I never pushed, keeping only a blurry sunset silhouette as our chat background. Then Brooke posted a nine-photo grid. Elena was front and center in every shot. Camping trips, music festivals, bar nights. She flashed finger hearts, pulled silly faces, laughed until her eyes crinkled. In one photo, she leaned into a man’s shoulder. In another, she beamed as he snapped a close-up of her face. No flinching. I scrolled through the gallery eleven times. The truth settled in. She did not hate photos. She just did not want me in her world. Four years, and her camera roll held everyone but me. I reset our chat background to default black and deleted the silhouette. If I did not belong in her world, I would fade from it entirely. The apartment was pitch-black when I deleted the background. The dining table was covered with food that had gone completely cold. The layer of oil over the beef stew had congealed into a white film, and the whipped cream on the mango crepe cake was beginning to melt and collapse. Next to the plates sat a brand-new, unopened Polaroid camera. Today was our fourth anniversary. I had started preparing at five in the morning. Knowing she disliked phone cameras, I thought a Polaroid might be something she’d enjoy, so I went out of my way to buy one. At seven in the evening, I texted her to ask if she could come home early. She replied, Sure. Then, silence. At nine-thirty, I finally received a brief text: Working late. Eat first, don’t wait up. I didn’t eat. I just sat at the table, scrolling through my phone until I saw Brooke’s post. Now, the cold food was sitting in the trash. The cake was thrown away, too. I stuffed the Polaroid into the bottom drawer of the hallway cabinet and wiped the table clean. It was ten minutes to midnight when the lock finally clicked. Elena walked in, her high heels clicking on the hardwood. She smelled strongly of alcohol, mixed with a heavy, woody men’s cologne. Her dress was a style I had never seen before, her makeup was more flawless than when she left the house, and her ears were flushed pink from drinking. She didn’t look like she had been working late. She glanced at the clean dining table. “Did you eat?” “Yeah.” “Sorry about tonight. The meeting ran incredibly long.” Her voice was casual, as if she were commenting on the weather. In the past, I would have teased her, asking if she was sneaking out on a secret date. She would roll her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh: Nolan, can you stop being so paranoid? So, I had learned to keep my mouth shut. This time, I didn’t even bother to ask. As she walked past me, the foreign cologne scent grew stronger. It wasn’t her perfume, and it certainly wasn’t mine. She walked into the bathroom, and the sound of running water filled the apartment. I sat on the sofa, staring at my empty photo gallery. Four years, and my phone held absolutely nothing of her. What about her phone? She happily leaned into group photos and let others snap close-ups of her. Her digital life was filled with the entire world. Everyone except me. The water stopped running. Elena walked out, wrapping a towel around her wet hair as she crossed the living room. “Why are you still up? Just sitting in the dark?” “Go on to bed. I’ll be in shortly.” She gave a brief nod, walked into the master bedroom, and shut the door. From start to finish, she never mentioned what day it was. She didn’t notice the empty cake box stretching the trash bag, or the faint scent of vanilla still lingering in the kitchen, or the clean stovetop I had scrubbed. She never looked at this home. She never looked at me. I walked into the guest room, closed the door, and lay down on the mattress. In the quiet darkness, my mind felt incredibly clear. Two years ago, a firm in Munich had sent me a job offer. I had rejected it without a second thought because Elena was here, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. I pulled out my phone and dug up the old email. The recruiter’s final sentence read: If you ever change your mind, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I tapped reply and typed a single line: Is this position still available? I hit send. The next morning, before Elena left for work, she called out from the entryway. “The yogurt in the fridge is expired. Make sure you throw it out!” The front door slammed shut. I had bought those yogurts last week, driving to two different supermarkets just to find the organic brand she insisted on drinking. She hadn’t opened a single one. I took all six bottles and threw them into the trash. I wouldn’t be buying them again. Around ten in the morning, my phone buzzed. It wasn’t Elena. It was a friend request from Brooke’s boyfriend, Tyler. The note read: Tyler here, Brooke’s guy. Had a quick question for you. As soon as I accepted, he got straight to the point: Hey man, are you and Elena still together? “Four years,” I replied. A long silence followed. Tyler: Then who is Austin, the guy she was holding in the photos last night? Do you know him? “No.” Tyler: I shouldn’t stick my nose in this, but his lock screen is a selfie of Elena. A very close-up, intimate photo. He unlocked his phone in front of the entire table at dinner, and nobody seemed to find it unusual. Nobody found it unusual. That meant in their social circle, Elena and Austin were the couple. And I, her boyfriend of four years, was completely invisible. I didn’t reply to Tyler. I placed my phone face down on my desk and sat in silence for a long time. At noon, my laptop chimed. It was an email from Munich: The position is still open. Please send your updated resume, and we will arrange a virtual interview as soon as possible. I opened my files and began updating my resume. At seven in the evening, a text from Elena came through: Out with some friends tonight, won’t be home for dinner. I replied with a simple, Okay. I heated up some leftovers and sat down at the table. Halfway through my meal, my sleeve caught on the tissue box, knocking over a shopping bag Elena had left on the corner of the table. A designer box slid out, containing a charcoal-grey men’s scarf. The price tag was still attached, showing a staggering amount. Tucked into the box was a small card. It was written in her neat, rounded handwriting: Happy Birthday, Austin. I’ll keep you warm this winter. I held the card, staring at the words for a long time. Her handwriting really was beautiful. In our four years together, I had never received a single handwritten note from her. For my birthdays or Valentine’s Day, she never prepared gifts, claiming she was terrible at choosing things and found the whole process exhausting. But she had gone out of her way to pick out a luxury scarf and write a sweet card for Austin. She wasn’t bad at giving gifts. She just didn’t want to waste the effort on me. I placed the scarf and the card back into the bag, leaving it exactly where it had been. I felt no urge to confront her, not even anger. I just couldn’t finish my dinner. I washed my bowl, wiped down the counters, and cleaned the living room. I opened my resume, scrolled to the final line, hesitated for a second over the send button, and then clicked it. Elena came home around eleven, smelling of wine, her mood incredibly bright. Seeing me sitting on the sofa with my laptop, she actually walked over to take a look. “Still working this late?” I closed the laptop. “Just wrapping some things up.” She leaned against the arm of the sofa, studying my face. “Nolan, are you mad at me?” “No.” “Then why have you been so quiet the last couple of days? I told you to throw out the yogurt, and you didn’t even complain about the waste or offer to buy more. You’re never like this.” I was never like this. In the past, my entire schedule revolved around her. I did whatever she asked, and spent my energy trying to anticipate what she wanted. But she had become so accustomed to my devotion that she assumed my compliance was just a law of nature. “I’m just tired, that’s all.” She stared at me for a few seconds, her brow furrowing. “Are you throwing a silent tantrum over something stupid again? I’ve told you a thousand times…” “I’m not,” I interrupted her, my voice flat. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Go to bed.” She opened her mouth as if to say more, but I had already picked up my laptop and walked into the guest room, closing the door behind me. Through the door, I heard her mutter, “Unbelievable,” before her footsteps retreated. I didn’t turn back to comfort her like I used to. I turned off the light and lay down. My phone screen lit up with an email confirming my virtual interview for next Wednesday. I stared at the ceiling, my heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm. For the first time in four years, I wasn’t afraid of her anger. The virtual interview went exceptionally well. The hiring managers were impressed and offered me the position on the spot. My start date was set for one month from now, and their legal team would assist with my work visa. I began quietly packing my things. I found my passport in the desk drawer, noting it still had three years of validity. I took a quick trip to a photo booth for visa photos, submitted my documents, and was told the processing would take about two weeks. Elena knew nothing of my plans. But she did notice a change: I had stopped making her breakfast. For four years, I had woken up at six-thirty every morning to warm her milk, fry her eggs, and cut fresh fruit. Now, I only boiled a single bowl of oatmeal for myself. For the first two days, she stayed silent. But on the third morning, she walked out of the bedroom and saw only my empty bowl on the table. Her face immediately clouded over. “Where’s breakfast?” “I already ate.” “What about mine?” I didn’t look up as I tied my running shoes. “I’m running late today. You’ll have to make your own.” She stood frozen in the hallway, her voice rising sharply. “Nolan, how long are you going to keep up this passive-aggressive behavior? Do you have any idea how many days you’ve been freezing me out?” “I’m not freezing you out.” “Then what do you call this? No breakfast, no conversation, completely ignoring me. You’re behaving like a totally different person!” I stood up, looking her in the eye. “Elena, I made you breakfast every single morning for four years. Did you ever say thank you? Did you ever ask me what I wanted to eat, or wake up early to cook for me even once?” “You just assumed it was my job to serve you, didn’t you?” Her lips parted, but she couldn’t find any words. Finally, her frustration turned to anger, and she slammed her mug onto the counter. “You’re just bringing up old, petty complaints! You never said you minded cooking before, and now you’re using it to pick a fight!” I didn’t argue. I grabbed my gym bag and walked out of the apartment. Behind me, she screamed my name, but I didn’t turn around. That afternoon, I submitted my formal resignation at work. My manager asked for my reason, and I told him I was pursuing a personal opportunity. He tried to convince me to stay, but I remained firm. As I walked out of the office, my colleague Marcus caught up with me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Where are you heading next, man?” “Munich.” “What? Germany? What about Elena?” I stepped into the elevator. “What about her?” On Friday night, Elena surprisingly stayed home. She was curled up on the sofa watching a talk show while I was in the guest room organizing my paperwork. Suddenly, she pushed open my door, holding a bowl of noodles. “I made this for you. Don’t say I never cook.” The noodles were overcooked and soggy, swimming in a murky broth of uncertain flavor. She stood in the doorway, her chin lifted slightly, her eyes filled with an expectant look, as if saying: I’ve made an effort, now apologize and let’s move on. I took the bowl from her. “Thanks.” I didn’t say anything else. She waited for a few seconds, her expression hardening. “Just ‘thanks’? What else do you want from me, Nolan? An apology? What exactly did I do wrong?” I took a bite of the noodles. They were incredibly salty, almost bitter. “It’s fine. The noodles are good.” “Stop brushing me off! If you have something to say, say it! I’m sick of this silent treatment!” I set the bowl down on my desk and looked at her. “Elena, you asked what I wanted from you. I’m telling you, I don’t want anything anymore.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly. She stared at me, as if I had just spoken in a foreign language. “What is that supposed to mean?” “Exactly what I said. Go back to your show. Don’t worry about me.” She stared at me for a long time, her jaw clenched, before she grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut so hard the drywall trembled. A moment later, she turned the volume of the television up to the maximum. The noise was deafening. I put on my noise-canceling headphones and continued filling out my visa application. By the fifth day of our cold war, Elena still had no intention of speaking to me. As she walked through the living room on her way out the door that morning, she saw me eating instant ramen. She paused, her lips moving slightly, but she ultimately turned and walked out without a word. She likely believed this fight would play out like every other fight we’d had. She assumed that in another day or two, I would break, buy her favorite pastries, apologize, and sweep everything under the rug. She had four years of experience to back up that assumption. She was entirely confident. I spent the afternoon packing the last of my belongings into a suitcase. My visa paperwork was complete, and my passport and contract were tucked into the inner compartment of my bag. At the bottom of my desk drawer, I found a stack of movie ticket stubs. I had saved every single one, planning to make a collage out of them eventually. But as I flipped through them, I realized there wasn’t a single pair of adjacent seat numbers. Because she had never gone to the movies with me. She always claimed she couldn’t stand being trapped in a dark theater for two hours. Yet, Brooke had posted a photo of Elena and Austin sharing a bucket of popcorn at a theater just last month. I swept the entire stack of stubs into the trash can. Everything was packed. That evening, Elena came home carrying a paper bag. She walked into the living room and tossed it onto the coffee table. “I passed by that place you like and got you the teriyaki beef bowl.” It was the first sentence she had spoken to me in five days. In the past, I would have been incredibly touched, viewing it as her way of apologizing. I looked at the bag. It was indeed from the restaurant I had frequented for four years. But then I noticed the order slip stapled to the paper. It read: Mild. I only ate extra spicy. Four years together, and she didn’t even know how I liked my food. “I already ate.” Her hand paused on the bag. She turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing into a glare. “What did you eat?” “Just made some simple food here.” She stared at me, her chest rising and falling quickly, before she threw the bag back onto the table. “Nolan, what exactly is your problem? I am throwing you a bone here, do I have to spell it out for you?” I set my water glass down. “What bone?” “I bought you dinner! I’m the one initiating the conversation! What more do you want? An apology? Fine, I’m sorry! Is that what you wanted to hear?” Her apology carried no warmth, only resentment. Her tone made it clear she felt she had made a massive concession, and that I was being incredibly ungrateful. I looked at her. “What are you apologizing for?” “You don’t even know what you did wrong, so why are you apologizing?” She opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. Finally, her eyes welled with tears of frustration, and she shouted, “Then tell me! Tell me what I did wrong! You just sit there in silence, how am I supposed to know what you want?” There was so much I could have said. I could have thrown Brooke’s photos in her face. I could have asked who she was drinking with on our anniversary. I could have asked why I was the only person she hid from her camera. I could have asked if she knew Austin used her photo as his lock screen. But as the words reached my throat, they lost all meaning. What would be the point? She would just call me dramatic, accuse me of bringing up old issues, and tell me I was being insecure. And then, nothing would change. “It’s nothing. It’s late, I’m going to sleep.” “Nolan!” I walked into the guest room and locked the door. My phone screen showed the confirmation email for my one-way ticket to Munich. My flight was on Wednesday afternoon. Two days from now. On Tuesday, Elena stayed home all day. She sat on the sofa, occasionally glancing toward the guest room, likely waiting for me to finally break the silence. I stayed in my room, wrapping up the final details of my packing. Around six in the evening, the doorbell rang. I happened to walk out of the guest room to get a glass of water, and both Elena and I looked toward the door. She didn’t move, so I went to answer it. It was my friend, Ben. He was holding a paper bag, looking past me into the apartment. When he saw Elena sitting on the sofa, he hesitated. I shook my head slightly. Understanding the silent cue, Ben stayed in the entryway, keeping his voice low. “Here are the European power adapters and converters you asked for. The voltage is different over there, so you’ll need these the second you land.” I took the bag. “Thanks, man.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. “And this is the address of an international grocery market in Munich. You’re going to get sick of the local food fast, so this should help keep you alive.” He patted my shoulder, offering a small, encouraging smile. “Two years isn’t that long, man. Once you get settled in, send us a message so we know you made it safely.” The background noise of the television seemed to vanish from the room. The show was still playing, but all the warmth and energy was sucked out of the apartment. Ben immediately sensed the sudden, suffocating tension. His smile faltered, and his eyes drifted over my shoulder toward the living room. I didn’t turn around, but I could feel Elena’s gaze burning into my back. Ben cleared his throat, taking a step back toward the hallway. “Right… well, I should head out. Safe travels, man.” He turned and hurried down the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. The front door was still open, letting in the pale light of the hallway lamp. The silence stretched on for so long that I assumed she wasn’t going to say anything. Then, a voice sounded from behind me. It was incredibly soft, almost fragile. “Nolan.” She had walked up behind me, stopping a few feet away. I turned around. She was staring at my face, her lips parting slightly. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. “Are you… leaving?”

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1 After seven years apart, I quit my job and moved back to share an apartment with Johnny. I entered the door code three times, each attempt rejected. When the door opened, it wasn’t Johnny but my best friend Gigi standing there, wearing his button-down shirt that barely covered her thighs. “Sera! You’re back?” Her smile was casual. “Had a fight with my roommates, so I’ve been crashing here.” Johnny emerged from the bathroom. “Stop blocking the door,” he snapped. “Gigi takes the master bedroom. You’re in the guest room tonight.” Irritation masked his face, but his familiar inner voice rang clear in my mind. [We’ve been apart so long. Have you fallen for someone else? Sera, say this is our place. Tell her to leave. Make a scene. Show you care.] For seven years, this was his pattern. Late replies meant dinners with Gigi. Missed weekends meant she stayed over. Before, I would have cried, demanded answers, thrown the tantrum he craved. This time, my eyes caught the pink towel around his waist and the lace bra on the balcony. The questions died in my throat. I stepped back, gripped my suitcase, and turned away. A home built for three was not mine to claim. 2 Gigi reached out, grabbing the edge of my suitcase. “Sera, come on. It’s just a locked door. You’re not actually mad, are you?” She pouted. “Don’t overthink it. I kept forgetting the old code, so Johnny changed it to my birthday.” Johnny let out a sharp scoff. “She’s just being dramatic. It’s a bunch of numbers. Who cares if they change?” His face showed nothing but contempt, but his inner voice grew louder, panic-stricken. [Say something! Say that the old code was our anniversary. Tell me I’m not allowed to change it.] [Sera, why aren’t you reacting at all?] I remained silent. Gigi leaned against the doorframe, letting out a soft yawn. “Are you coming in or what? We’re heading to bed soon.” I pulled my copy of the keys from my purse and set them quietly on the console near the door. “No, thanks. Get some sleep.” Johnny froze. “Fine, if you’re not coming in, then get lost!” he snarled, slamming the door shut with a deafening bang. The force of it made me stumble backward. My handbag slipped from my shoulder, spilling its contents onto the cold hallway floor. A stack of old train tickets slid across the tiles. The one on top was dated exactly seven years ago. On the day I was transferred to the regional office, Johnny had walked me to the platform. The boarding announcement had chimed three times before he finally let go of me. “Go on, Sera,” he had said, his tone breezy. “Don’t look back.” But in that exact second, I heard his inner voice for the very first time. [Sera, I don’t want you to go.] [But I can’t hold you back.] [I love you. Please wait for me.] I had frozen at the turnstile, tears blurring my vision. After that, during those long-distance years, I took that five-hour train ride countless times. Even when I worked past midnight, I would rush to catch the red-eye just to see him. Until the time I pulled back-to-back all-nighters, fainted at my desk, and missed the train. The second I woke up in the hospital bed, I called him. It took seven attempts before he finally picked up. “I’m having dinner with Gigi,” he said, his voice freezing cold. “What are you crying for? You didn’t have time for me, so I found someone who did. She’s your best friend, isn’t she? With her keeping an eye on me, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” That night, Gigi posted three updates on social media: hot pot, a dimly lit bar, and the city streets at three in the morning. Meanwhile, I lay alone in a sterile hospital room, a cold IV drip running into my arm all night. A tear fell onto the old paper ticket in my hand. I tried to wipe it away, but the ink only smudged, leaving a dark, permanent stain. 3 The apartment door swung open again. “If you’re too stubborn to leave, then get your ass inside,” Johnny muttered. Seeing the tears on my face, the harsh edge in his expression softened slightly. “How many days do you have off this time?” I didn’t tell him that I had quit my job permanently. There was no point. I had sacrificed my career progression just to end seven years of long-distance. Yet here he was, already playing house with Gigi. Gigi walked out of the bathroom with a fresh towel. She reached up and began drying his hair with practiced ease. Johnny didn’t pull away; he actually leaned down to make it easier for her. His silent thoughts claimed he loved me, but his body had long since adapted to Gigi’s touch. This apartment had no room left for me. The tickets remained scattered on the floor. I didn’t bother picking them up as I walked toward the elevator. Johnny let out a cold laugh behind me. “Sera, if you walk out that door today, we are done.” I pressed the down button. I didn’t look back. His inner voice suddenly descended into chaos. [Sera, don’t go. I just wanted to make you jealous.] [Just turn around, and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.] The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside. [Please, don’t leave.] I heard him. But this time, I didn’t hesitate. The metal doors slowly slid shut, slicing his desperate face from my view and cutting off the frantic echoes of his mind. Right then, my phone vibrated. It was Mr. Ward, the director from corporate headquarters. “Sera, the position at headquarters is still open for you. Have you made up your mind?” I wiped my cheeks and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mr. Ward, I’ll report for duty tomorrow morning.” 4 I checked into a cheap hotel for the night. The next morning, a call from the apartment building’s management woke me. “Miss Seraphina, the large shipping crates you sent ahead are piled up right outside the main lobby entrance. Tenants are complaining about the blockage. Could you please clear them out immediately?” When I set out for this city, I had planned on never leaving. I had packed up seven years of my life and shipped it all ahead of me. The boxes had arrived, but just like me, they had nowhere to go. I rushed back to Johnny’s apartment complex through the pouring rain. But when I arrived at the entrance, the pavement was bare. Gigi was just about to head inside, wearing a pair of plush slippers. “Sera, what took you so long? Those boxes were completely blocking the doorway.” She pointed toward the communal dumpster area at the back of the building. “Johnny said the two of you broke up, and that your stuff was just junk. So, I did you a favor and tossed it.” My ears rang with a deafening buzz. I spun on my heel and sprinted toward the dumpsters. The cardboard boxes had turned to mush in the rain. My belongings were scattered across the wet asphalt, soaking in filthy puddles. I dropped to my knees, frantically digging through the wet trash until my fingers brushed against a sodden, stuffed puppy. It was bloated with rainwater, one of its button eyes missing. It was the very first gift Johnny had ever given me. Over the last seven years, whenever the distance grew too hard to bear, this toy was my only comfort. Last year, when I was hospitalized with a fractured leg after a minor car accident, Johnny had booked a flight to see me. But then Gigi sprained her ankle. Over the phone, his voice had been rushed. “I’ll come after her ankle heals, okay?” I had spent that agonizing night unable to sleep, clutching this little stuffed dog until dawn. I squeezed the wet toy to my chest. Nearby, a pair of black heels caught my eye, one of the heels snapped clean off. I bought those six months ago. That day, a colleague had maliciously deleted my project files. I had hidden in the office courtyard, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. I had called Johnny repeatedly, but he hadn’t answered until after midnight. “What’s wrong now?” he had sighed. “Gigi had a fight with her roommates, and I just finished moving her into the apartment.” The next morning, I went to the mall and bought those expensive heels. I told myself: Sera, stand tall. If no one is coming to bring you home, you walk back on your own two feet. For seven years, I survived the constant traveling and the crushing loneliness. These objects had been my anchors. And now, they were rotting in a pile of garbage. “Gigi, what gave you the right to throw my things away?” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Sera, why are you screaming at her?” Johnny’s voice boomed from behind me. He stepped forward, holding a large umbrella over Gigi’s head. “It’s just a few boxes of useless junk. What’s the big deal?” Gigi looked at my tear-stained face and burst into soft, dramatic tears. “I thought you didn’t want any of this anymore, Sera.” Surveying the ruined keepsakes littering the wet ground, Johnny’s expression darkened. His inner thoughts began crashing into my mind. [Why are there so many boxes?] [I thought she was only visiting for a few days.] [The stuffed puppy… she kept it all this time?] His eyes drifted to the wet toy in my arms, but the words that slipped past his lips were cold and biting. “You dumped your things at my place after we broke up. If that’s not trash, I don’t know what is.” I clutched the wet puppy tighter, looking him dead in the eye. “Johnny, my things aren’t garbage. You are.” The downpour blurred my vision as a crowd began to gather around the trash area. Several neighbors whispered among themselves. “Isn’t that the young couple from upstairs? They’ve been living together for at least six months. I always see them grocery shopping together.” Another neighbor glared at me, her voice dripping with disgust. “Then who is she? Some crazy ex-girlfriend making a scene? Maybe she’s a side chick trying to cause trouble? Digging through the trash like that… how pathetic.” A sharp pain pierced through my already numb heart. Six months. They had been living together for half a year, sharing groceries, walking home under the same umbrella, playing the part of a devoted couple in the eyes of everyone else. Meanwhile, I had spent seven years in a legitimate relationship, only to end up branded as a desperate homewrecker digging through garbage. Johnny’s face turned incredibly pale, yet he didn’t offer a single word of explanation. Gigi reached out and gently tugged on his sleeve. “Johnny, let’s just go inside,” she murmured. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then held the umbrella over her as he guided her through the glass doors of the lobby. I stood alone in the freezing rain, watching their retreating figures. His inner voice grew fainter with every step they took. [Sera isn’t a side chick.] [She’s the only one I’ve ever loved.] I tuned the noise out. The rain came down in sheets. I knelt back down on the wet pavement, ripping open the soggy cardboard to search for the antique pocket watch my grandmother had left me. But even after digging through every single box, it was nowhere to be found. The cold had seeped deep into my bones, and my vision began to tilt and fade to black. 5 When I opened my eyes, I was lying in an unfamiliar guest room. Gigi was sitting on the edge of the mattress, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Sera, you fainted out there. I had Johnny carry you upstairs,” she said, gently tucking the blanket around my shoulders. “Don’t listen to what those neighbors said. I went back down and set them straight. I told them you’re not a side chick. I said we’re close friends, and you were planning on moving in with me. I explained that since the apartment belongs to Johnny, and he’s my boyfriend now, it just caused a little misunderstanding.” Her voice was soft and sincere, as if she were my savior. But all I could think of was our sophomore year of college. When my financial aid grant was stolen by another student, Gigi had marched with me straight to the dean’s office. “I absolutely loathe manipulative thieves who steal from others and then act like the victim!” she had spat. She had been angrier than I was. Yet now, as she declared Johnny was her boyfriend, she wore that exact same mask of pure, unblemished innocence. Gigi used to look down on Johnny, sneering at him whenever his name came up. But gradually, imperceptibly, she had started calling him Johnny with a soft familiarity. She began wearing his jackets, meeting him for private dinners, and going on trips alone with him. I hadn’t been completely blind to her overstepping boundaries, but she was my best friend, and Johnny had constantly told me I was overthinking things. Back then, his inner voice would constantly reassure me: [Sera, I only love you.] And so, I had forced myself to swallow the discomfort time and time again. But I was done playing blind. “Cut the act, Gigi,” I said, pushing myself up against the headboard. “Where are my credentials?” I was supposed to report to headquarters today. The copies of my files had been ruined in the rain, but since I had considered this apartment my home, I kept all my original diplomas and certifications here. Gigi blinked. “I have no idea. Why don’t you look around?” I ignored her, throwing off the covers and stepping out of bed. The master bedroom was officially her room now, but Johnny’s shirts hung alongside her dresses in the closet. My own clothes had been stuffed into the deepest corner, crumpled and forgotten. Gigi trailed behind me, whispering, “He only sleeps in here when he gets too drunk.” I didn’t care what they did in this bed. I just wanted my papers. I pulled open the nightstand drawer. There was no folder inside. Instead, my eyes landed on three boxes of condoms. One box was missing compared to the last time I had visited. My hand froze for a fraction of a second. I forced myself to look away. On the small vanity table nearby lay a greasy, uncleaned delivery box. Gigi let out a sudden gasp, as if remembering something. “Oh, Sera, is this what you were looking for?” She lifted the greasy plastic takeout container. Underneath it lay my hard-earned college diploma, the leather cover smeared with thick, orange chili oil. Gigi bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. I was eating takeout in here last night and needed something sturdy to prop up the container. I didn’t realize.” I snatched it from her hands and flipped it open. The certificate inside was thoroughly soaked in grease, the official embossed seal stained and smelling of stale, spicy food. “Sera, don’t be ungrateful!” Johnny barked, storming into the room and positioning himself protectively in front of Gigi. “Gigi was nice enough to let you stay here. It’s just a piece of paper. Was it really necessary to get physical with her?” I didn’t bother defending myself. Staring at the ruined document, my mind raced with a single, urgent thought: How do I replace this in time? Suddenly, a familiar ringtone broke the silence. It was my phone, but the sound was coming from Gigi’s pocket. By the time I snatched it out of her grasp, the call had already disconnected. On the screen was a text message from Mr. Ward, sent ten minutes ago. [The meeting was scheduled for now. Where are you?] I hadn’t even seen the text, but there was already a reply sent from my number: [I’ve decided to decline the transfer offer.] My head snapped up, my gaze locking onto Gigi. “Who gave you permission to text my boss?” She didn’t look remotely remorseful. “Sera, I did it for your own good.” I didn’t waste time arguing. I hit dial, calling Mr. Ward immediately. “Mr. Ward, that message wasn’t from me. I haven’t declined the position.” The line went quiet for a few seconds. “We’ve already initiated the backup candidate process,” Mr. Ward’s voice was professional but firm. “Sera, if you still want this job, you need to be in my office in thirty minutes.” I hung up and bolted for the door. Gigi chased after me. “Sera, don’t do something stupid!” she cried. “If you run off to see this older male executive right now, Johnny is going to get the wrong idea.” Johnny’s face hardened as he caught up to us. “What director?” Gigi gave a small, theatrical flinch. “The male boss who kept the headquarters position open for her,” she whispered. “He promised Sera that if she came back, he’d handle her promotion, housing, and stipends. I only sent the text because I was worried she was getting taken advantage of!” Johnny’s expression turned incredibly dark. He stepped directly into my path, blocking the exit. “Sera, are you seriously throwing away your self-respect for some corporate housing? What are you running off to do? Show him what you’re worth? Sleep your way to the top?” I glanced at my phone. Twenty-seven minutes left. “Get out of my way,” I said, pushing past him. The elevator display showed it was down for maintenance. I lunged for the heavy door to the stairwell. Gigi’s voice echoed behind me. “Johnny, stop her! What if that boss tries to take advantage of her?” I had barely cleared the first landing when Johnny caught up, his fingers clamping down on my wrist like iron cuffs. “Sera, you’re not going anywhere today.” I thrashed against his grip, desperate to break free. “Johnny, let go of me! You have no right!” His eyes flashed with anger, and he tightened his hold. Wincing from the pain, I instinctively tried to pull back. But my heel caught on the edge of the concrete step behind me. My foot slipped into empty air. The next second, I was tumbling backward, crashing violently down the concrete flight of stairs until I slammed hard against the brick wall of the lower landing. Darkness threatened to swallow me as a blinding, agonizing pain flared through my body. Johnny stood frozen on the steps above, his face pale with horror. [Sera!] [I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to.] I couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from. Everything just hurt. The pain was absolute, crushing. But the worst of the pain hadn’t happened just now. It was the moment I arrived with my suitcases, believing I was finally coming home, only to find another woman living in my place. It was kneeling on the wet pavement, digging through trash to retrieve a ruined stuffed dog. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t form a single word. Johnny stumbled down the stairs, falling to his knees beside me. “Sera…” [Please get up. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t lie there.] [I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just terrified you didn’t love me anymore.] [If you don’t love me, I’d rather die.] He reached out to touch my cheek, but his hand froze mid-air. For the very first time, the silent voice of my mind echoed clearly in his head. [Johnny.] [Go to hell.]

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1 While my boyfriend was asleep, I noticed his phone screen lighting up with a relentless stream of notifications. Curiosity got the better of me. When I tapped the screen, I saw he was replying to a popular prompt on a local Q&A forum: How far can a person go for someone they can’t have? “I’ve loved my childhood best friend for twelve years,” his response read, “but I’m currently dating a girl I don’t love at all.” “My childhood friend is in love with someone else, her own personal ‘one that got away.’ To help her secure her happy ending, I went out of my way to pursue his crush, who happens to be my current girlfriend. I did it to clear the competition for her.” “Now, my childhood friend is practically engaged to her dream guy. As for me? Well, since I can’t have the girl of my dreams, it doesn’t really matter who I’m with. It’s all the same to me.” My hands began to shake. The realization hit me like a physical blow: I was the unloved girlfriend. The phone slipped from my trembling fingers, landing softly on the mattress. Ashton didn’t wake up, but he instinctively rolled closer to me, his arm draping over my waist. “Rowan…” he muttered in his sleep, his voice thick and affectionate. If this had happened yesterday, I would have found his sleeping gesture incredibly sweet, a sign of his deep devotion. Now, it felt sickeningly absurd. I knew exactly who his childhood friend was. Gemma. She was currently dating Wesley, a popular senior from our university. I had met Gemma once or twice. Whenever Ashton spoke of her, he insisted she was just a dear friend from his neighborhood. Asfor Wesley, he had actually confessed his feelings to me back in college. I barely knew him, so I had politely declined. When Gemma and Wesley eventually got together, I assumed it was a sweet stroke of fate. I had even sent them my warmest congratulations. But there was no fate. It was a calculated game designed by Ashton, and I was just an insignificant pawn on his chessboard. Taking a shaky breath, I unlocked his phone again and kept scrolling through the post. It was a detailed, public diary of his unrequited love for Gemma. “I’ve known I loved her since I was ten, but her eyes were always fixed on someone else.” “Of course, it killed me to see her with another guy. But I couldn’t bear to see her unhappy either, so I chose to make her dreams come true.” “When she confessed to Wesley and got rejected, she locked herself in her room and cried for three straight days. I was absolutely furious. I hated Wesley for rejecting her, but more than that, I hated my current girlfriend. Why did she get to effortlessly capture the attention of the guy Gemma wanted?” “So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I targeted my current girlfriend, planned to date her for a year, and then dump her.” The strange, unreadable looks Ashton used to give me suddenly made sense. Yet, he had treated me so well, with such tender care, that I never had a reason to doubt him. Our one-year anniversary was next week. I had spent the last month excitedly planning a special weekend for us, hoping to surprise him. I never could have imagined our entire relationship was a lie. A calculated act of revenge. The comment section of his post was a battleground. “Have some self-respect. How could you possibly post this publicly?” “What did your girlfriend do to deserve a toxic jerk like you? Let her go.” But a few took his side. “He hasn’t cheated on her, and he treats her well. Why is everyone calling him toxic?” “Am I the only one wondering how he managed to sweep his girlfriend off her feet so easily, while failing with his childhood friend for twelve years?” Ashton had replied to that comment: “You have to walk on eggshells around the person you actually love, terrified of saying the wrong thing. But with my girlfriend? She’s just a game where I calculated her stats. A few carefully placed strategies, and she was mine. It was incredibly easy.” 2 “If anyone’s curious, I can share some of the specific tactics I used.” The comments section practically begged for details. Ashton obliged, typing out his next response: “It’s simple. You just have to figure out what she’s lacking most.” “Before I made my move, I spent weeks researching her background. My girlfriend was raised by a single mother in a low-income household. She’s desperately insecure.” “She had plenty of guys pursuing her at school, but most of them looked down on her because of her financial situation. They acted entitled, which built a wall around her heart.” “So, I made sure to appear in a space she felt safe in. Naturally, she let her guard down.” My mind flashed back to how we met. It was at the after-school tutoring center where I worked part-time. Coming from a poor family, I knew how hard my mother worked to raise me. Once I got to university, I took on multiple jobs to ease her financial burden. That was where I met Ashton, who had also signed up as a part-time tutor. After we started dating, I discovered his family was actually quite wealthy. When I asked why he had taken a tutoring job, he had smiled warmly. “My parents always taught me the value of a dollar,” he had said, brushing a stray hair from my face. “I wanted to experience making my own way.” Now, his post laid bare the truth: “Who would actually work a miserable tutoring job if they didn’t have to? But she bought the story hook, line, and sinker. So naive.” “But a job wasn’t enough. To truly win over someone insecure, you have to save them when they’re most vulnerable.” “My girlfriend had decent grades, but she was right on the cusp of losing the fast-track master’s fellowship. Her best friend was ranked just one spot ahead of her, holding the final slot.” “I happened to find out that her best friend had hired a proxy to run her mandatory fitness assessment varsity test. So, I submitted an anonymous tip to the dean. The friend was disqualified, and my girlfriend automatically got the fellowship.” “Even though the report was anonymous, my girlfriend was the direct beneficiary. Naturally, everyone assumed she was the whistleblower.” “I played dumb, but during casual conversations with classmates, I casually mentioned that my girlfriend was no longer looking for jobs because she had ‘new plans.’ That sealed it. Everyone was convinced she had betrayed her best friend.” The comments flared up again. “This is disgusting. How do you sleep at night?” “Honestly, I don’t see the issue. The girlfriend got the fellowship, didn’t she? Who cares about a college friend? Besides, if the friend hadn’t cheated on her test, she wouldn’t have gotten reported.” “I feel terrible for the friend. She lost her future over some guy’s sick game.” My chest tightened, a sharp, suffocating pain pressing down on my lungs. The memory of that semester was the most painful period of my college life. It had ruined any happy memories I had of university. My best friend was Tess. We had been roommates, sharing meals, studying together, complaining about the dining hall food. We were inseparable. Tess always had slightly better grades, and I had never once begrudged her for it. When the fellowship nomination was handed to me, I thought it was a miracle. But that miracle quickly turned into a nightmare of whispers and cold shoulders. Tess’s trust in me shattered under the weight of the rumors. Eventually, we stopped speaking entirely. I tried to explain myself countless times, but whenever we crossed paths on campus, she would walk right past me as if I were a ghost. When we graduated, I learned she had failed her graduate school entrance exams and went straight into a low-paying job. The guilt was so overwhelming that I had seriously contemplated dropping out of the master’s program. And during that dark, lonely period, Ashton was the only one by my side. While everyone else pointed fingers, he looked me in the eye and told me he believed in me. He assured me I had done nothing wrong. Of course he knew I was innocent. He was the one who had orchestrated the entire thing. I had been so profoundly grateful back then. Our bond deepened, and I bared my soul to him, finding solace in his constant comfort. But his true thoughts were dripping with contempt: “Honestly, she should be thanking me for getting her that fellowship. Instead, she walked around looking like a martyr. Who was she trying to impress?” “If I hadn’t helped her, what would she be doing now? Struggling to find a job and relying on me to feed her?” 3 One commenter asked: “But what does that have to do with making her fall for you? She didn’t fall in love with you just because her friend hated her.” Ashton replied: “You’re right. She was so consumed by guilt that she didn’t even realize I was pursuing her.” “And more importantly, my main goal was to get Wesley to lose interest in her. But even with her reputation ruined, the guy still wouldn’t let her go.” “So, I had to try a different tactic.” “Wesley’s mistake was being too cautious. He was terrified of making a wrong move, just like I was with Gemma. But that’s what happens when a guy actually cares about a girl.” “He kept trying to send her anonymous gifts to cheer her up, but I made sure to intercept every single one of them.” I had never received a single gift from Wesley. Ashton’s post continued: “But intercepting packages wasn’t enough. I needed Wesley to be utterly disgusted by her.” “My girlfriend couldn’t handle the silent treatment from her roommates anymore, so she decided to move off-campus. To afford rent, she took on a high-paying private tutoring gig.” “The family she tutored for was incredibly wealthy. They loved her, and they even had their private chauffeur pick her up from the campus gates every evening.” “I didn’t have to do much. I just made sure to walk past the gates with my fraternity brothers whenever the luxury car arrived, letting everyone watch her climb inside.” “A poor girl suddenly moving out of the dorms and getting picked up in a luxury sedan? It didn’t take much for rumors to start.” “That night, I posted anonymously on the campus forum. Within hours, the gossip caught fire. Everyone was saying she was some rich guy’s sugar baby.” “She already had a bad reputation from the whistleblower rumor, and now she was labeled a gold-digger. She was completely isolated.” I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white, fighting back the urge to throw up. As graduation approached, I had hoped to leave the whispers behind. Instead, the bullying only intensified. Everywhere I went, people stared and whispered. In the cafeteria, students would actively get up and move away if I sat near them. When it came time to form groups for our final capstone project, every single classmate avoided me. I was left standing alone, a pariah. Only Ashton stood by me. At first, I had tried to defend myself. I wrote post after post on the school forum, begging people to listen to the truth. But every single thread I created was deleted within minutes. I realize now that Ashton was one of the senior moderators of the campus forum. Controlling the narrative was child’s play to him. The guys who had once pursued me turned on me instantly, posting vile, misogynistic slurs on the forum. They claimed I was a tease, a fraud, and that anyone could sleep with me if they had enough cash. A few days later, a new post went viral, titled: Stop Harassing My Girlfriend. It was written by Ashton. He claimed the luxury car belonged to his family, and that he was the one who had rented the off-campus apartment for me because we were dating. To me, he had presented himself as a savior, claiming he only wanted to protect me because he was deeply in love with me. In that state of terror and isolation, the psychological toll of the suspension bridge effect took hold. I fell completely, hopelessly in love with him. I believed he was my white knight. I had no idea he was the dragon who had set my world on fire. “And just like that,” Ashton wrote boastfully, “I got the girl, and I successfully crushed any lingering feelings Wesley had for her. Easy as pie.” “Wesley was devastated, which gave Gemma the perfect opportunity to comfort him. Now they’re planning their honeymoon.” The tone of the comments had shifted. The initial disgust was replaced by a twisted sense of admiration. “Honestly, the guy is a mastermind. He targeted her exact psychological weaknesses.” “No wonder she fell for him. It’s a bit toxic, but you have to admit, his execution was flawless.” “But are you really that selfless? Doesn’t it kill you to watch your childhood friend marry another guy?” Ashton replied: “As long as she’s happy, it doesn’t matter who she’s with.” “Our one-year anniversary is in a few days. She still doesn’t suspect a thing. But I think this little game has run its course. It’s time to end it.” Outside, the rain began to patter against the windowpane, a slow, rhythmic drumming. Ashton slept peacefully beside me, his hand still holding mine. It was a habit of his; he loved physical touch, always clinging to me whenever we were together. Now, looking at his handsome, sleeping face, I couldn’t tell which of his touches had been real and which had been part of his calculated script. I opened my own phone, clicking on an email from my academic advisor. “Rowan, the department has an open slot for a one-year exchange program at a prestigious university in London. The deadline is tomorrow. This is a life-changing opportunity for your research. Please consider it and let me know.” I had drafted a polite refusal, worried about leaving Ashton behind, terrified of what a year of long-distance would do to our relationship. I deleted the draft. I typed a new, single sentence. “Professor, I want to go to London. Is the spot still open?”

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The moment I realized Caitlin existed, I couldn’t ignore the betrayal. I demanded a divorce immediately. Joshua locked himself in his study, smoking for half a day. When he finally emerged, his voice was raspy as he tried to persuade me. “Caitlin doesn’t believe in marriage,” he said. “She will never interfere with our life.” How utterly shameless. I slapped him across the face. He pressed his tongue against his burning cheek, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. “It’s just a casual thing, Gwen. A little fun. What’s the big deal? Can you stop overreacting?” With that, he slammed the door and walked out. That very night, I accidentally connected with myself from ten years in the future. On the screen, she looked exhausted, her eyes sunken. “Gwen,” she said, her voice hollow. “I already tried the path of divorcing him the second he cheated. It didn’t end well.” “Let me give you a piece of advice. If you’re too rigid, you’ll break. Love isn’t everything. Don’t love a man. Learn to use him.” “You can get a divorce, but absolutely not right now.” 1 The woman staring back at me from the screen possessed my exact features, yet she was so terribly withered she looked like a stranger. Staring at her, my throat tightened. I had always been stubborn and proud. The day I confronted Joshua, only one thought filled my mind: marriage is meant to improve your life, and so is divorce. There was nothing to hesitate about. Cut the losses and move on. I was never one to drag things out. Yet, the face on the screen had “I am miserable” etched into every single wrinkle. Taking a deep breath to push down my rising panic, I asked the question that mattered most to me right now. “What about Lily? Did she get into Berklee?” A flash of pain crossed her face, and she slowly shook her head. “She didn’t keep playing the violin.” I froze. My daughter Lily was only seven, but her talent was already undeniable. Her tutor had told me she was a rare prodigy. Every day after school, the first thing she did was practice. I had to call her for dinner three or four times before she would finally put the bow down. Her dream was to become a concert violinist, to perform at Carnegie Hall just for me. There was no way she would just quit. Looking at my stunned expression, my future self offered no comfort. She simply asked, “How much are her private lessons right now?” “A hundred and fifty dollars an hour.” She let out a bitter, joyless laugh. “Look at that. That’s over ten thousand a year just for basic lessons. Add in masterclasses and prep school auditions, and it’s a fortune. Meanwhile, my salary as a research assistant, even ten years from now, barely clears forty-five thousand after taxes.” 2 She shook her head with a wry smile, deepening the lines around her mouth. “When we divorced, Caitlin was terrified we’d stay in touch. She forced Joshua to pay a lump sum for child support and cut us off.” “Whenever Joshua came to visit Lily, Caitlin would tag along, screaming insults outside our building. I didn’t want Lily to hear that, so I stopped letting him come.” She paused. “Later on, they had a son. By the fourth year of our divorce, Lily hadn’t seen her father at all.” I didn’t say a word, my chest feeling as though a heavy stone had settled on it. “Because I insisted on the divorce, Joshua was furious. He dragged out the asset division to punish me. Desperate to escape, I walked away with nothing but this house. I refused to let Lily give up the violin, so I carried that financial burden alone until she turned fourteen.” “And then?” My throat was incredibly dry. “Then I had to sell the house. The housing market had crashed, and I lost over two hundred thousand dollars on it.” My heart gripped. “Was the money… for Lily’s tuition?” Her eyes welled with tears. “Dad was diagnosed with cancer.” I went numb, my mind going completely blank. My father was healthy right now. He still went for long walks in the park every morning. “It happened three years ago,” she said, wiping her eyes. “He saw me struggling as a single mother, working myself to the bone. He hid his symptoms because he didn’t want to burden me. By the time we found out, it had already metastasized.” It felt as if a hand was squeezing my windpipe. It took everything I had to whisper, “And Dad… is he…?” “He passed away over a year ago.” My breath hitched. “The night Lily found out her grandfather was sick,” she continued, “she packed her violin away. She told me she was done playing, that we needed to save the money for his treatment. No matter how much I begged, she refused. She never touched the violin again.” So, in the eight years following my hasty divorce, my daughter’s dream was shattered, and my father was gone. The pain in my chest was so sharp I could barely breathe. 3 Before I could speak, the screen flickered violently and the connection cut out. A few seconds later, an unknown number video-called me. The moment the screen lit up, Caitlin’s face filled the frame. She was leaning back in Joshua’s arms, her makeup flawless, her eyes curved in a lazy, arrogant smile. Joshua had his arm wrapped around her waist, his chin resting against her shoulder. He looked more relaxed than I had seen him in years. “Your little wife is the textbook definition of a boring academic,” Caitlin teased, her tone dripping with mock pity. “Prude, stiff, and utterly brainless. Is she really trying to divorce you?” Joshua gave a low grunt of agreement. Caitlin laughed. “What are we going to do? You know I have absolutely no intention of ever marrying you. I’m strictly child-free. I can’t stand the shackles of a domestic life. I’m only here for the romance, not the dirty dishes and laundry.” She tapped her fingers playfully against the back of Joshua’s hand. “Poor baby. You’re going to lose your wife and kid all because of me.” Before she could finish, Joshua leaned down and kissed her. The video froze right there. I stared at the screen as nausea washed over me, a bitter taste rising in my throat. After the screen went dark, I sat in the shadows for a long time. Once I gathered my thoughts, the very first thing I did was make a few phone calls to dig into Caitlin’s background. The details arrived quickly. She was three years older than me and worked as a senior sales manager for one of Joshua’s company’s main pharmaceutical suppliers. She had been in the industry for a decade, consistently landing the top sales spot. She was known for being fierce and relentless. Her favorite catchphrase was, “I’ve got the money and the looks. Why would I ruin my life with a marriage?” People in her field called her the thorned wild rose. Many of the younger girls at her company idolized her, praising her for living life on her own terms and refusing to be tied down by societal expectations. I was certain she had sent me that video on purpose. Even if she had no intention of marrying Joshua, she still wanted the satisfaction of asserting her dominance over his legal wife. 4 When I connected with my future self again, I bypassed the pleasantries. “You said they had a son? I thought Caitlin didn’t believe in marriage.” The woman on the screen let out a mocking laugh. “The year I divorced Joshua, Caitlin was thirty-three. That anti-marriage stance of hers lasted exactly two more years.” “Once she turned thirty-five, age anxiety kicked in. She had her fun when she was young, but eventually, she craved stability. She dragged Joshua to the courthouse, and she gave birth to their son the following year.” I opened my mouth, but no words came. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came from her side of the screen. A tall, slender teenager peeked into the room. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and her face held traces of Lily as a child, but her eyes were far too quiet for a seventeen-year-old. “Mom,” she said softly. “I warmed up some milk for you.” “Just leave it on the desk, sweetie,” my future self replied, her voice softening instantly. “By the way, why didn’t you tell me about the school summer camp?” Lily looked down. “I don’t want to go, Mom. I’d rather stay home and keep you company.” With that, she quietly backed out of the room and shut the door behind her. Staring at the closed door, a sudden wave of grief hit me, and tears began to pour down my face. On the screen, my future self tapped her phone, and several screenshots appeared on my screen. “See for yourself,” she said. In the photos, Joshua and Caitlin were holding a little boy’s hands, standing beneath the northern lights in Norway. The boy was bundled up in a thick winter coat, sitting on Joshua’s shoulders and laughing happily. The caption read: Successfully chased whales with my little prince. The Arctic Circle is even more romantic than I imagined. In the next few photos, they were overlooking glaciers from a helicopter, clinking champagne glasses on the deck of a luxury cruise, and Caitlin was posing with designer sunglasses. “Joshua eventually started his own medical supply company. He caught the market boom and made millions,” she said, her words slicing through me like ice. “And what about you? You couldn’t even save your own father, and your daughter couldn’t even bring herself to go to a summer camp because of the cost.” She stared at me, her eyes burning. “You sowed the seeds in tears, Gwen. Why should another woman reap the harvest in joy?” She wasn’t exaggerating. My mother-in-law had passed away from cancer years ago. From her diagnosis to her death, it took over three years. That was during the peak of Joshua’s early career, which meant the caregiving fell entirely on me. I was burning the candle at both ends, working in the lab by day and staying at the hospital by night. The night his mother passed away, I was five months pregnant, managing the funeral arrangements completely alone. By the time Joshua arrived, he had missed her final moments entirely. “Gwen, please listen to me,” her voice cracked with a decade of unshed tears. “Love doesn’t matter. Don’t love a man. Learn to use him.” “This is the lesson I paid for with my life.” Tears streamed down my cheeks as I nodded in agreement. Looking at me, a flicker of relief appeared in her eyes, seeing that I had finally taken her words to heart. Then, her image began to blur, dissolving like ink in water, fading until the screen went completely black. The contact number disappeared, as if it had never existed at all. [The path of soft-hearted submission has led to ruin. To see Gwen turn her future self’s painful lessons into a cold, calculated strategy for survival and reclaim everything she is owed, please purchase the next section to continue reading.] 5 But I knew, from this moment on, my heart had completely changed. I would divorce him, but absolutely not now. Seven-year-old Lily ran up to me, tilting her head. “Mom, why are you crying?” I knelt down and pulled her into a tight hug, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. I forced a smile. “It’s nothing, sweetie. Why don’t we go visit Grandpa?” The very first thing I did was take my father to the hospital for a chest CT scan. When the results came back, sure enough, there was an eight-millimeter nodule in his upper left lung. The doctor pointed at the screen. “The margins are slightly spidery, which isn’t a great sign. However, it’s still small enough to monitor. We could do a follow-up in six months.” Without a second of hesitation, I decided to have it surgically removed immediately. I called Joshua. Joshua had started out as a medical sales representative and had risen to regional director. He had an extensive network of medical contacts. Even though we were in the middle of a cold war, he was still trying to keep his perfect family at home while having a little fun on the side. If that was his game, why shouldn’t I use him? When he answered, I kept my explanation of my father’s condition brief and direct. Joshua didn’t hesitate. He immediately contacted the city’s top thoracic surgeon, securing a private room and a surgery date within the day. The surgery was a complete success. That night, Joshua even volunteered to stay by my father’s bedside to watch over him. When my father woke from the anesthesia and saw Joshua sitting there, his eyes grew misty. He took Joshua’s hand, then took mine, placing them together. His voice was weak but solemn. “Joshua is a good man, Gwen. You two need to live a good life together. Don’t let your stubborn pride get in the way.” I forced a smile and nodded. “I will, Dad.” But the moment I turned around to pour some warm water, the smile vanished from my face. Predictably, Joshua’s sudden devotion rubbed Caitlin the wrong way. After his night at the hospital, he claimed he had to travel for business and disappeared for several days. A week later, I picked Lily up from her violin lesson and stopped by a bakery. Just as I pushed the door open, I saw Joshua and Caitlin standing side by side at the counter. He was whispering something to her, a smile playing on his lips. Lily spotted him immediately. Like a little bird returning to its nest, she let go of my hand and ran toward him. “Daddy! You’re back from your business trip!” Joshua quickly bent down to scoop her up, taking a subtle half-step away from Caitlin. Caitlin’s lips tightened into a hard, irritated line. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes full of hope. “Can you read me a bedtime story tonight, Daddy? Please?” Just as Joshua was about to say yes, Caitlin cut in. Her voice was sweet, but there was an icy edge to it. “Director, don’t we have urgent matters to handle tonight? Have you forgotten?” She turned her head, her gaze locking onto mine. Her lips curved into a smug, sharp smile. Joshua stood frozen, holding our daughter, caught in the middle. I spoke first, my voice entirely flat. “Your work is more important. Lily, come here.” Lily pouted but obediently slid down from his arms and walked back to my side. Both Joshua and Caitlin looked surprised. Joshua looked guilty and bewildered, while Caitlin’s brief shock was quickly replaced by smug satisfaction. As they brushed past us, Caitlin deliberately bumped her shoulder against mine, her eyes filled with undisguised contempt. I gripped Lily’s hand tightly and didn’t look back. 6 Joshua came home early the next morning. His shirt collar was slightly open, revealing a fresh, dark red mark on his collarbone. Noticing my gaze, he uncomfortably adjusted his shirt to hide it, clearing his throat. “We need to talk,” he said. He sat on the sofa, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. “What are you thinking right now?” I leaned against the dining table, refusing to sit, looking down at him. “I should be asking you that. Saying those things in front of our daughter, do you even deserve to be called a father?” His face flushed red. “I already put her in her place last night,” he stammered in defense. “I promise it won’t happen again.” He stood up and tried to take my hand, but I stepped aside. His hand froze in midair before he awkwardly pulled it back. Sensing my coldness, he tried a different approach. “Gwen, Caitlin isn’t like you. She doesn’t want marriage or kids. She just wants a fun, carefree life. It won’t last between us. You know that in the end, it’s you and me. We’re the ones who will grow old together.” Seeing that I didn’t argue, he took it as a sign of progress and pressed on. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get five thousand dollars every month for household expenses. I’ll never let you or Lily go without.” Five thousand dollars. He said it so casually. Like a generous lord throwing scraps, using this money to buy my silence, to maintain the illusion of a perfect home while he did whatever he wanted outside. In the past, I would have found this utterly unacceptable. When did I, Gwen, ever trade my dignity for cash? But now, I simply kept my eyes lowered and remained silent. Taking my silence as consent, Joshua let out a long sigh of relief and patted my shoulder. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d understand.” I quietly clenched my fists, then slowly let them go. He sat back down and shifted the conversation to business. He and Caitlin had decided to resign from their jobs and start a medical device company together. He had the product channels and industry connections; Caitlin was a stellar sales manager with a decade of client relationships. With their powers combined, he boasted, the company was guaranteed to be a goldmine. Instead of reacting, I feigned hesitation. “I only know how to deal with lab data. I don’t understand your industry. But I do know that starting a business is risky, and I need to make sure my daughter is secure no matter what.” His expression tightened slightly. I continued, “So, I want all of our current family assets transferred under Lily’s name. She’s young, and knowing she has that security is the only way I can sleep at night.” Joshua barely hesitated before agreeing. He was calculating his own math. We had just bought our second property, so we didn’t have much liquid cash. Since I wasn’t demanding a divorce, and Lily was his biological daughter, putting the assets in her name meant they still belonged to a member of the family. He had absolutely no reason to refuse.

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1 Ten years into my relationship with Eason, I found his marriage certificate tucked away in his office safe. I demanded a breakup on the spot, but he broke down, begging for a second chance. “I don’t want my dad’s illegitimate son getting his hands on the family business,” he’d pleaded, tears streaming down his face. “This strategic marriage was the only way to secure my position. She’s been living abroad this whole time; we’ve never even met. Trust me, the moment I take full control of the company, I’ll file for divorce. You’re the only one I love.” My heart softened. I foolishly believed him and agreed to wait. But as the years dragged on, even when my grandmother was admitted to the intensive care unit, there was still no sign of that divorce. Instead, while pushing my grandmother’s wheelchair through the hospital garden, I saw him. His arm was wrapped tightly around a woman who was visibly seven months pregnant. The tenderness in Eason’s eyes was a knife to my chest. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just hang in there. Once the baby is born, I’ll make you whatever you want.” My hands shook, losing their grip. The wheelchair tilted, and Grandma slipped heavily onto the paved path. In my panic, my eyes locked right into his. … Eason instantly let go of Kathy’s hand. I quickly looked down, my hands trembling as I tried to help Grandma up. Grandma clutched my sleeve with a frail, tight grip, her voice weak. “Annie, is that… is that the boyfriend you showed me in the photos?” She had just come out of major surgery and couldn’t handle any shock. I shook my head, forcing a tight smile. “No, Grandma. You’re mistaken. That’s not him.” “Oh, my goodness! Are you alright?” a soft female voice called out from above us. “Eason, quick, help her up and get her to the emergency room.” Grandma’s body suddenly began to spasm. I wasn’t strong enough to lift her on my own, but Eason stepped in, hoisting her onto his back without a second thought. Even then, he didn’t forget to turn back and caution Kathy. “Kathy, stay here. Don’t run, think of the baby.” A bitter ache spread through my chest. Years ago, when Eason was buried in work, I used to carry files stacked higher than my head, running to keep up with him. Once, I slipped on a wet floor, the heavy folders spilling and bruising my knees. Eason had only frowned, looking annoyed. “I told you not to come if you couldn’t handle it.” But there was no time for old hurts now. I wiped my face and hurried after him. Grandma’s condition was critical, and she was rushed straight into the trauma bay. Only when the double doors swung shut did the adrenaline fade, leaving my mind spinning. The blood rushed to my head, and I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing. “So,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “Is this the wife you’ve ‘never met’?” Eason kept his voice low, glancing nervously at the hallway. “My dad’s illegitimate son is still trying to push me out. I had to keep up appearances to secure the board’s vote.” When I didn’t reply, his tone softened, turning coaxing. “I’ll cover all of your grandmother’s medical bills. Don’t worry about the money.” Before I could speak, Kathy walked in, hand supporting her lower back. Eason immediately turned his back on me, rushing to her side. “Kathy, slow down. Watch your step, the floor is slippery.” Kathy smiled, wrapping her arm around his. “Look at you, always stressing out.” I lowered my eyes, staring at my worn-out sneakers. “Thank you both for helping my grandmother. I can take it from here.” After they left, my phone buzzed with a message from Eason. I’ve brought in the hospital’s top specialists. Don’t worry about the bills. Just don’t mention us to Kathy. She’s pregnant, and she can’t handle any unnecessary stress right now. A dry, bitter laugh escaped my throat. Tears fell, hot and fast, splattering onto the glass screen. Ten years of devotion, reduced to a bad joke. I opened my work app and sent a message to my department head. I’ll take the relocation assignment to London. I’m ready to go. The doctor told me to prepare for the worst. Grandma’s vitals were declining rapidly, and she remained unconscious, hooked up to a tangle of tubes. I didn’t expect Eason to show up, carrying expensive organic gift baskets. He tried to pull me into his arms. “Don’t worry, Annie. She’s going to make it.” I pushed him away, my voice flat. “We’re done, Eason.” Eason sighed, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t tell you about Kathy because I knew you’d react like this. Annie, haven’t I been good to you? I’ve taken care of your grandmother’s expenses, and I’ve paid for her treatments over the last ten years. I do these things because I love you. Why can’t you just try to understand my position?” “You don’t love me,” I said, my voice cracking as I stared at him. “You just wanted a mistress who wouldn’t make trouble.” Eason’s expression hardened. “Annie, that’s unfair. If I didn’t care about you, would I spend this kind of money? I’m not asking you to pay me back. I just need you to stay by my side.” Before I could answer, the heart monitor beside the bed began to let out a long, continuous beep. Nurses and doctors rushed into the room, but after a frantic few minutes, the lead doctor gently shook his head at me. I watched the flat green line on the screen, and the world collapsed. I fell to my knees, sobbing until my chest ached. I handled the funeral arrangements entirely on my own, crying until my eyes were completely dry. On the morning of the memorial, I called Eason, hoping he would stand by my side. Grandma’s final wish had been to meet the man I had loved for a decade. “I’m so sorry, Annie, but the quarterly meeting is running late and I can’t slip away…” Through the receiver, Kathy’s voice drifted over the line. “Babe, look at these cute custom cupcakes! Let’s make some ourselves later.” I quietly hung up. A year ago, I had asked Eason if we could do a pottery class together to make custom mugs. He had laughed it off, calling it childish, and bought me a crystal glass from a luxury brand on his next business trip instead. I used to think he just didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Now I realized he was capable of romance, just not with me. My phone chimed with a message from my manager. Your transfer to the London office is approved. You leave in a month. I typed back a quick confirmation. When I got back to my apartment, Eason was waiting by my door, holding a takeout container. “You’re finally back. I brought you some homemade short rib soup. You’ve had a long day.” I didn’t say a word, unlocking the door and walking past him. He followed me inside. “Are you still upset about this afternoon? You know I couldn’t avoid the merger. Don’t make things harder for me than they already are. Kathy is heavily pregnant, and she needs me around.” Listening to his excuses, I felt nothing but a deep, exhausting weariness. “She’s your wife, Eason. You should be with her. You don’t owe me an explanation.” Eason’s face cleared, and he smiled. “Annie, I knew you’d understand. Just bear with me a little longer. Once the baby is born, I’ll have full control of the firm.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Eason, I want to break up.” He froze, then softened his voice, reaching out to stroke my hair. “Alright, let’s not fight. How about I take you to that new oyster bar downtown? I’ll shell them all for you.” His expression was perfectly practiced, the same gentle tone he always used to placate me. But there was no warmth in his eyes, just the same old routine of using small favors to quiet my complaints. Without a word, I turned and went to take a shower. By the time I came out, he had ordered a massive seafood platter, and a plate of neatly shelled shrimp sat in the center of the table. “See? I did them all for you. Come eat.” “I’m not hungry.” Eason’s smile vanished. “Annie, I am exhausted from dealing with the board all day. Do you really have to do this? I’m only asking you to wait a little longer. The baby is almost here…” Before I could respond, his phone chimed with a sweet, pre-recorded voice. “Daddy, answer the phone! Your little prince wants to talk to you!” Eason pulled out his phone, giving me an apologetic look. “Kathy set that as my ringtone. You should set one for me sometime. She’s been really anxious lately, so I shouldn’t stay out too long. I have to go.” I stared at the plate of shrimp on the table. Slowly, I picked it up and dumped the contents into the trash. The word Eason used most with me was “wait.” On our anniversary, he’d text: I can’t make it tonight. Wait until this project wraps up, and I’ll take you to the beach. On my birthday, after I’d cooked a full dinner: Go ahead and sleep. Wait until I get back, and I’ll make it up to you. When I was hospitalized with severe food poisoning: Kathy is feeling unwell too. Even if it’s a marriage on paper, I have to keep up appearances. Take your meds, and wait for me to get there. I spent a week in that hospital bed. He never showed up. For ten years, I had done nothing but wait, and I had nothing to show for it. I was always the secondary priority, tucked behind his career and his arranged marriage. I was done waiting. The next morning, my bank account showed a pending deposit of fifteen thousand dollars, my relocation stipend from the company. A delivery arrived shortly after—a rare designer handbag, accompanied by a note from Eason. Stop being stubborn. Don’t be mad anymore. I calculated my savings from the last few years, which came to about seventy-five thousand dollars. I sent Eason a text. Come to my apartment when you have a moment. A few minutes later, he replied. Wait until this week is over. What do you want from the duty-free shop? I’ll grab it for you. I didn’t bother replying. I headed to the mall to buy some travel essentials for my move. While passing the baby boutique section, I spotted Eason and Kathy picking out newborn clothes. Kathy caught my eye immediately. “Oh, hi, Ann!” I stopped, forcing a polite smile. “Hello.” She gave me a warm, friendly wave. “Eason told me about you. He said you’re a close colleague from work. I was so incredibly sorry to hear about your grandmother.” “Thank you,” I murmured. Kathy held up two tiny knit outfits. “I love the blue one, but Eason likes the cream. Since you’re here, which one do you think is cuter?” My fingers tightened around my purse strap. “They’re both lovely.” Eason quickly stepped in, guiding Kathy away. “Sweetheart, Ann isn’t married yet. She wouldn’t know anything about baby clothes. Let’s look at the strollers.” Kathy waved goodbye, wrapping her arm around his. “Can we go on the carousel after this?” “Of course,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Whatever you want.” I remembered asking Eason to go to the amusement park with me once. He had laughed. “I’m not going there. Wait until I’m as childish as you, then maybe I’ll consider it.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked over to the luggage store. Just as I was paying for a large suitcase, Eason suddenly appeared beside me, pulling out his black card. “Let me get that for you.” “I already paid.” He paused, surprised. I reached into my bag, pulled out my debit card, and slid it into his hand. “There’s seventy-five thousand dollars on this card. It doesn’t cover everything you spent on Grandma’s medical bills, but it’s every cent of my savings.” Eason didn’t even look at the card. “How much do you make a month, Annie? It’s less than I make in a single day. Just keep it.” He wore that familiar, indulgent expression, entirely confident that I would eventually fall back into line. “Just be good,” he said softly. “Don’t cause unnecessary drama. My time is money, and I don’t want to waste it arguing with you.” I stared at him, my voice barely a whisper. “You just want me to be a quiet, compliant mistress.” The smile on his face faltered. “Don’t use terms like that. I’m just asking you to wait a little longer.” Always a little longer. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The weight of the last ten years seemed to lift all at once. I shoved the card into his coat pocket, grabbed my new suitcase, and walked away. Behind me, Kathy’s custom ringtone started to play, followed by the sound of Eason’s retreating footsteps. After wrapping up my projects at work, I returned to my apartment to pack. I found Eason sitting on my couch. I walked over and held out my hand. “Give me back my keys.” Eason’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand you anymore, Annie. I give you everything you ask for. Why are you never satisfied?” To him, my love was something that could be bought. To him, I was just a mistress who could be kept waiting indefinitely as long as the price was right. I reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulled out his key ring, slid my house key off, and opened the front door. “Please leave. I need to sleep.” Eason looked at me, his patience finally wearing thin. “Kathy is giving birth in a month. Once I take over the company, I will divorce her. Can you just wait? All you do is spend my money, you have no idea how much pressure I’m under.” He slammed the door as he left. I walked over and locked it quietly. Just as I was finishing my packing the next morning, an official email from HR popped up on my phone. Ann, due to a report of personal misconduct, your relocation transfer has been revoked. Please submit your resignation immediately. I had been summarily dismissed and locked out of all company group chats. I called my manager, demanding an explanation. He sounded incredibly uncomfortable. “Someone sent HR documentation and photos proving you are involved with a married man.” “Who sent it?” I pressed, my hand shaking. “It came from the Bennett Group’s corporate IP.” Livid, I drove straight to the Bennett Group headquarters and cornered Eason in the hallway. “Eason, did you get me fired?” He dragged me into a private breakroom, his expression dark. “What are you screaming about? This is my office, not your apartment.” I played the recording of my manager’s call. Eason looked genuinely shocked, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do this, Annie. It makes no sense for me to expose my own situation just to force you to quit. I’ll find out who did this and clear your name.” But when Eason ran a trace on the source IP, his face drained of color. The files had been sent directly from his personal work account. “This…” He stared at the screen, silent for a long moment before looking up at me with a complicated expression. “Let’s just say it was a misunderstanding. Don’t look into it any further.” I pulled out my phone to dial the police. Eason immediately snatched the phone from my hand. “It must have been Kathy. She has access to my devices. Let me call her.” Kathy answered on the second ring, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Oh, did I send those files to the wrong email? I’m so sorry, Ann. My mind has been all over the place with the pregnancy.” My career, my reputation, my hard work—all gone because of a “mistake.” “Go to HR and tell them the truth!” I shouted into the phone. Eason cut the call, his face tight with irritation. “What’s done is done. Your personal information hasn’t been leaked to the public, so what’s the rush? Kathy didn’t do it maliciously. Just tell me how much money you want to make up for the job.” From the phone on the counter, Kathy’s voice started crying. “I’m so sorry, Ann. It’s just pregnancy brain…” Eason picked up the phone, his voice instantly softening. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry, it’s bad for the baby. I’ll handle everything.” I was the victim, yet his only concern was comforting the woman who had ruined my career. I had worked late nights, weekends, and holidays for this promotion. London was supposed to be my fresh start. And now, my career was in ruins because of their little games. I closed my eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. When I opened them, the last shred of affection I had for him was gone. “Give me the original files of those photos,” I said, my voice dead. “And I will disappear from your life forever.” Eason pulled up the files on his laptop. The photos clearly showed my face, while his had been carefully blurred out. I permanently deleted every single copy from his drive, turned around, and walked out of the building. On my way out, I booked a one-way ticket to London for the following evening. My phone buzzed with a text from Eason. Don’t be angry, Annie. Kathy really didn’t mean to do it. Just wait for me. Once the board meeting wraps up today, the company is mine. Always wait. How many more decades did he think I had to waste? I remembered the New Year’s Eve I spent freezing on his porch, holding a thermos of hot soup while he stayed home to comfort Kathy because she was lonely. He had told me to wait. By the time the fireworks ended, he still hadn’t come. I remembered getting caught in a torrential downpour, asking him to pick me up. He told me Kathy was terrified of thunder and asked me to wait. I waited four hours in a lobby before walking home in the freezing rain. I had begged him to meet my grandmother. He told me to wait. She died without ever knowing the man I had loved for ten years. I didn’t reply. Within an hour, Eason caught up to me outside my apartment building, grabbing my arm. “Annie, you’re being completely unreasonable! Kathy is carrying my child. Of course I have to prioritize her right now. You always have to make such a scene when I’ve already told you to just wait.” Tears slipped down my cheeks, quiet and cold. “Then what was the last decade to you, Eason?” He froze, caught off guard. I wiped my face, looking him in the eyes. “Do you even love me?” Eason let out a soft laugh, reaching up to pinch my cheek as if I were a petulant child. “I swear, you are so adorable sometimes.” I knocked his hand away. “If you don’t love me, and you won’t let me go, what do you actually want from me?” Eason thought about it for a moment, smiling. “I like having a sweet little kitten waiting for me at home.” He looked genuinely excited as he continued, “Once I take over the company, I’ll take you to Bali. Just wait for me, okay? Like you always do.” I looked at his smiling face, feeling absolutely nothing. He had no idea that this was the very last time I would ever wait for him.

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