1 Our graduation trip was supposed to end with us island-hopping to Honeymoon Island, a tiny, sun-drenched paradise. But I was the only one who actually set foot on the shore. My boyfriend, Wyatt, had sent me a hurried text just as the ferry was boarding, claiming that my best friend, Fiona, was having a severe allergic reaction to some insect bites. He told me to go ahead and wait on the island; they would take the next boat and meet me shortly. I waited. I watched the sun climb to its peak, and then I watched it sink into the horizon, taking the very last ferry back with it. There was still no sign of them. I was forced to spend the entire night stranded at the open-air ferry terminal, acting as an all-you-can-eat buffet for the island’s relentless, toxic mosquitoes. When dawn finally broke, I caught the first morning boat back to Ibiza, shivering and exhausted. As the boat pulled away from the dock, my phone buzzed with a message from Wyatt. There was no apology, only irritation. You’re still on the island? How old are you, Valerie? Do you seriously not have any common sense? Sitting on the damp plastic seat of the speedboat, I rubbed my swollen, bloodshot eyes. The backs of my hands were covered in angry, throbbing red welts. Out on the water, a solitary dolphin’s dorsal fin sliced through the morning mist, catching the first rays of sunlight. I felt a profound, heavy exhaustion settle into my bones. I was done playing my part in this endless script, waiting for promises that would never be kept. … It was nearly ten in the morning by the time I made it back to our hotel. My clothes, damp with salt water and cold night dew, clung to my skin like a second, freezing layer of skin. My hands were shaking so violently that it took me three tries to slide the keycard into the slot. The moment the lock clicked open, Fiona’s bright, bubbly laughter drifted through the gap. “Wyatt, be honest, does this angle make me look fat?” She was curled up on the sofa, enveloped in Wyatt’s oversized jacket, holding her phone up to his face. Wyatt was leaning in close, his arm draped casually along the back of the sofa behind her, a relaxed, easy smile on his lips. I recognized that jacket instantly. Before we left, terrified of the chilly ocean drafts, I had packed it into his suitcase myself. At the time, he had laughed at me, calling me dramatic. Now, it was draped over Fiona’s shoulders, the soft sleeves pooling around her wrists like a protective shield, keeping her safe from any draft. I stood in the doorway, frozen. The stray grains of sand trapped inside my sandals ground against my raw soles, sending sharp, tiny needles of pain up my legs. Fiona noticed me first, her eyes widening with a sudden, performative cheerfulness. “Valerie! You’re finally back!” She waved me over, her tone incredibly light. “Come help me pick a photo. Wyatt’s photography skills are absolutely dreadful, no wonder he never posts pictures of you on his feed.” She caught herself a second later, sticking her tongue out in a playful, apologetic gesture. Wyatt looked up, the warmth instantly draining from his face, replaced by his usual stern, disapproving mask. “Why are you just getting back now?” My throat felt like it had been stuffed with dry sea sponge. I swallowed hard, trying to force the words out. “You said you’d be right over.” “Then you should have used your head,” he snapped. “Once the last ferry left, why didn’t you just ask a local for help? Why didn’t you find a guest house on the island? You’re an adult, Valerie. Did you really just stand there like an idiot waiting for sunrise?” Fiona gently nudged his arm, whispering, “Wyatt, stop it, don’t yell at her.” Though her words were soft, her eyes were fixed on the backs of my hands, where the swollen, angry red bites had begun to weep clear fluid and blood from where I had scratched them in the night. Wyatt noticed them too. He paused, his expression shifting slightly as he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. For a fleeting second, I thought he was going to ask if I was alright, or if it hurt. Instead, a small, patronizing chuckle escaped his lips. “Look at you. You really are clumsy, aren’t you? Didn’t you even know how to find a shelter to hide in?” His tone held that familiar, affectionate condescension. It was the same tone he had used a thousand times before. He loved to call me stubborn. He loved to tell me my brain didn’t know how to adapt. He loved to tell me that he was the only man on earth who could ever tolerate my rigidity. For years, I had foolishly mistaken that condescension for love. Now, I realized that his “tolerance” was nothing more than a invisible leash. He would slip it around my neck, pull it tight, and leave me standing there, quietly questioning if I was indeed the one who was always in the wrong. Fiona reached for a small green tin on the coffee table. “Valerie, don’t be mad at Wyatt,” she said, sliding the tin into my hand. “He spent ages looking for this yesterday.” It was a cheap tin of mentholated cooling balm, its metal edges already slightly bent from being pried open. “He knew you’d get bitten by the bugs out there, so he told me to keep it safe for you.” A heavy, suffocating sensation pressed down on my chest. So he knew. He knew Honeymoon Island was crawling with mosquitoes. He knew I would stay there and wait. He knew exactly what would happen to my skin. And yet, he still chose not to come. Wyatt reached over, snatched the tin from my fingers, and pressed it firmly into my palm. “Alright, drop the attitude. I bought you the medicine, didn’t I? What else do you want from me?” The tin was freezing cold. Pressed against my inflamed skin, it felt like a heavy piece of ice. My mind flashed back to six months ago, when Wyatt had first emailed me the travel brochures for Honeymoon Island. The pictures had shown pristine white sand, crystal-clear water, and wild dolphins playing in the surf. He had kissed my forehead then, whispering, “We’re going there for graduation.” When I asked him why, he had simply smiled. “You’ll see when we get there.” A few weeks later, I had accidentally seen his search history on his laptop: Honeymoon Island proposal ideas, sunrise dolphin proposal spots. I remember sitting in the university library that afternoon, staring at the screen with a silly, ecstatic grin on my face. I couldn’t focus on a single page of my textbooks. I had truly believed that island was where our future would begin. So when he told me to wait, I waited. I waited from the moment the sun was high in the sky until the ocean turned pitch black. I waited until the tourists cleared out and the ticket booths shut down. I sat on a cold plastic chair, clutching my backpack, watching my phone battery slowly drain away to zero. The mosquitoes buzzed loudly in my ears as I sent him text after text. Wyatt, where are you guys? The last ferry is leaving soon. I’m getting really scared. He never replied. I had held the dying phone to my chest, listening to the slow, heavy thud of my own heart, feeling like a tiny flame being snuffed out by the cold ocean wind. And now, he stood in front of me, telling me to lose the attitude. Fiona smiled up at me, entirely unaffected. “Valerie, why don’t you go take a shower first? We wanted to head out to the night market later.” Wyatt patted my head, his tone dismissing my silence. “Go on. Don’t ruin the schedule for the rest of the day.” I looked at him, my voice flat. “Wyatt.” “Yeah?” he replied, already pulling out his phone. I had wanted to ask him if he had spent even a single second yesterday wondering if I was safe, or if I was terrified out there alone. But the words died in my throat, turning into a heavy lump of lead. I walked past them, unzipping my suitcase to grab a change of clothes. As the bathroom door clicked shut behind me, I caught Fiona’s lowered voice through the thin wood. “Do you think she’s really mad?” “She’s always like this,” Wyatt replied, his voice indifferent. “She’ll get over it.” Then the rush of the shower drowned out the rest of their conversation. The hot water hit my skin, sending a sharp, burning agony through the raw welts on my arms and hands. I leaned my forehead against the cold, tiled wall and slowly slid down to the floor, curling into a tight ball. The tears fell silently, mixing with the hot water. I didn’t make a sound. I had finally realized something very simple. It wasn’t that Wyatt was incapable of keeping his promises. It was just that his promises always expired when they were meant for me. And the proposal I had spent the entire night waiting for on Honeymoon Island had already sailed away on that very last ferry, leaving me behind in the dark. At four in the afternoon, Wyatt shook my shoulder to wake me. “Come on, get dressed. We’re going out for dinner.” I had only managed to fall asleep an hour prior, and my head felt incredibly heavy. When I opened my eyes, the harsh tropical sunlight was piercing through the gap in the curtains, making my eyes sting. “I don’t want to go,” I muttered, turning my back to him. The room fell silent for a few seconds. Then, the door creaked open further as Wyatt stepped into the room, holding the half-empty bottle of water I had left on the nightstand. “Didn’t you say you wanted to try the local seafood? I went out of my way to book a table at that trendy beachside restaurant as a makeup. Don’t be stubborn.” A makeup. The word sounded incredibly cheap coming from his mouth, like a free postcard you’d find at a hotel lobby, easily tossed into the wind. I looked up at him, my voice hoarse. “My skin is having an allergic reaction. I need to eat something plain.” He glanced down at his phone, his thumb typing rapidly. “Fiona’s been dying to go to this place, and reservations are almost impossible to get. Don’t be a party pooper.” I didn’t argue. I got out of bed and dressed. I wanted to see just how far his favoritism could actually go. The restaurant was right on the beach, the setting sun painting our table in a warm, orange glow. The staff brought out platter after platter of rich, fragrant seafood: spicy local crab, salt-and-pepper head-on shrimp, and rich curry clams. The heavy red oil floated on the surface of the sauces, the sharp, spicy aroma hitting my nose and making my stomach churn. My hands were still hot and throbbing; even without seeing a doctor, I knew touching any of this food would make my allergies flare up violently. Fiona, however, was beaming. “Wyatt, you actually remembered this is my favorite!” Wyatt handed the menu back to the waiter. “And we’ll add an order of the spicy Tom Yum soup, please.” Fiona picked up a large, steaming shrimp and dropped it onto Wyatt’s plate. “Wyatt, my hands are so sore from yesterday.” She held out her wrist, pointing to two tiny, almost invisible red dots on her pale skin. Without a word, Wyatt picked up the shrimp and began to peel it for her, his movements incredibly practiced and careful, even going so far as to neatly remove the vein. Fiona glanced over at me, her expression entirely innocent. “Your girl isn’t going to get jealous over a single shrimp, is she, Valerie?” I didn’t answer. Wyatt placed the neatly peeled shrimp into her bowl, then turned to look at my empty plate, his face darkening. “Why aren’t you eating?” “I can’t eat shellfish right now.” “Here we go again,” he muttered, tossing his wet wipe onto the table with a wet slap. “I bring you out to a nice restaurant, and you decide to give me the silent treatment. Are you seriously still holding a grudge over yesterday? It’s getting ridiculous.” My fingers tightened around the rim of my glass. “A grudge over yesterday?” Wyatt looked at me like I was a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “You already ruined an entire day of our vacation. Fiona didn’t even complain about her allergies, and here you are, playing the victim.” Fiona gently reached over, tugging on his sleeve. “Wyatt, don’t say that. Valerie is probably just feeling really under the weather.” Wyatt didn’t back down. “She always does this. Anyone else would let it go after a quick apology, but she has to make sure the entire world revolves around her.” I raised my hand, calling over our waiter. “Could I please get a glass of warm water?” The waiter nodded and hurried away. Wyatt stared at me, his jaw clenched, his eyes filled with frustration. He was probably waiting for me to argue, waiting for me to lay out my grievances one by one so he could play the judge and tell me why I was being unreasonable. But I didn’t. I simply took a sip of the warm water when it arrived. The liquid was tasteless and plain, but as it slid down my throat, it felt as though it was washing away the very last drop of hope I had kept for him. By the time we got back to the hotel, Fiona was complaining about being exhausted. Almost the second we entered our room, she wrapped herself in a blanket and followed us inside. “Valerie, I think the air conditioning in my room is completely broken,” she murmured, standing near the door with her eyes cast down. “And with my allergies acting up from yesterday, I’m really scared to sleep alone.” I turned my head to look at Wyatt. He was in the middle of unbuckling his watch, but he paused, looking up at her. “You can just sleep here, then.” I froze. “If she sleeps here, where am I supposed to go?” Wyatt looked at me, as if the question hadn’t even crossed his mind. After a brief silence, he shrugged. “You can go sleep in Fiona’s room.” Fiona immediately chimed in, her voice hushed. “Oh, that’s really not fair to Valerie. I can probably just manage in my room…” Though she spoke of leaving, her feet didn’t move, and she sat down comfortably on our sofa. Wyatt looked at me, his tone completely matter-of-fact. “Fiona has always been easily frightened, and she’s sick. You’ve always been independent, Valerie. What’s the big deal about taking one for the team for a single night?” I stared at the large king-sized bed. On the nightstand sat our matching travel mugs, one blue, one white. Before we had left the room yesterday, I had filled the white mug with warm water, planning to use it to take my allergy medication when I returned. Now, that very white mug was in Fiona’s hands. She took a small sip, wrinkling her nose. “It’s a bit cold.” Wyatt took the mug from her, poured the water into the sink, and refilled it with fresh, steaming water from the kettle. A hollow, cold sensation bloomed in my chest. And then, slowly, a smile touched my lips. So my strength, my independence, was nothing more than an easy excuse for them to push me aside whenever it was convenient. My place in his life could be handed over with a single, careless sentence. Seeing my smile, Wyatt’s annoyance flared. “Don’t look at me with that sarcastic face.” I didn’t say a word. I walked over to the wardrobe, pulled my clothes out of the drawers, and laid them out on the bed. The sound of my suitcase zipper running open was incredibly loud in the quiet room. Fiona watched me, her head tilted. “Valerie, are you really leaving? I can honestly just go back to my room.” I placed my wash bag into the suitcase. “No. You don’t have to.” Fiona’s smile faltered slightly. Wyatt stood in the center of the room, looking genuinely shocked that I was actually packing my things. “Valerie, is this really necessary?” “Yes,” I said, snapping the locks of my suitcase shut. His face turned incredibly dark. “It’s just for one night.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Wyatt, last night was just for one night, too.” By the middle of the night, I was burning up with a fever. As dawn approached, my feverish dreams were filled with the image of that empty ferry terminal on Honeymoon Island. The lights were out, the ocean wind was howling, and the metal chairs were as cold as blocks of ice. I sat there, clutching my backpack, watching boat after boat pull away from the dock, their white wakes swallowed up by the dark, churning water. Suddenly, a loud knocking woke me. “Valerie, open the door!” I opened my eyes, my head throbbing with a dull, heavy ache. The knocking on the door was loud and impatient. “Valerie, hurry up! We’re going to miss our diving slot!” It was Fiona’s voice. I pushed myself up from the bed, the room spinning violently for a second. My feet felt like lead as I dragged myself to the door. When I opened it, Fiona was standing there, dressed in a bright bikini with a sheer white cover-up, her hair neatly styled. Wyatt stood behind her, holding a large waterproof dry bag. The moment his eyes fell on me, his brows knit together. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe for support. “I have a fever. I’m staying in today.” Fiona’s face fell instantly. “But the diving spots are so hard to get.” I looked past her, staring straight at Wyatt. “Diving wasn’t on our itinerary.” Wyatt’s eyes flickered, looking away for a fraction of a second. “We booked it yesterday.” Yesterday. While I was stranded on an island, shivering in the dark, they had been planning their next adventure together. My throat felt incredibly tight. “I’m staying at the hotel to rest.” Wyatt’s expression hardened into pure disgust. “Valerie, can you stop throwing tantrums? You already ruined our plans yesterday, and now you’re pulling this. We didn’t come on this trip just to watch you sulk in bed.” I raised a hand, touching my burning forehead. “I am genuinely sick, Wyatt.” He glanced at the swollen welts on my arm. “Fiona had the exact same reaction yesterday, and she’s perfectly fine after a bit of rest. Stop using your health as an excuse to get attention.” Fiona quickly stepped in, her voice sweet and conciliatory. “Wyatt, don’t be like that. Maybe we should just skip it. I can stay behind and keep Valerie company.” Yet, as she spoke, her fingers tightened around the strap of her beach bag. Predictably, Wyatt’s expression softened into concern for her. “You’ve been looking forward to this dive for months. Why should you have to miss out?” He turned back to me, his tone icy. “She’s being incredibly accommodating, Valerie. What more do you want?” I took a step back into the room. “Then go. Have a good time.” Wyatt let out a cold sneer. “Here we go again. Do you expect me to get down on my knees and beg you? Fine, suit yourself.” He grabbed Fiona’s arm and slammed the door shut. Through the thin walls, Fiona’s soft voice carried down the hallway. “Do you think Valerie is really furious with us?” “Just ignore her,” Wyatt replied. “She’ll come around.” Their footsteps gradually faded down the corridor. I collapsed back onto the floor, my back sliding down the door. The coarse carpet fibers scraped against my bare knees. My head was throbbing violently, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I pulled out my phone, trying to book a ride to the local hospital, but the local apps were entirely in a foreign language, and the address on the hotel keycard was too blurry to read. My fingers kept slipping on the screen, inputting the wrong details. Finally, I forced myself to stand, using the wall for support, and made my way down to the lobby. The receptionist on duty was a young woman, her name tag reading Nadia. The moment she heard me asking for hospital directions in raspy Mandarin, she looked up from her computer. “Are you from back home?” she asked, her eyes softening. I managed a weak nod. She looked at my pale, sweaty face, and then at the severe red swelling covering my arms and hands. “You are in no condition to go to the clinic alone.” “I can manage,” I whispered, but my knees buckled slightly as the words left my lips. Nadia quickly stepped out from behind the counter, catching me by the arm. “I’m coming with you.” “But you’re at work,” I protested weakly. “I’ll have my colleague cover for me,” she said, grabbing her purse. “We’re both far from home, we’ve got to look out for each other.” Her words were incredibly quiet, but they felt like a warm blanket wrapping around my shivering frame. Nadia helped me into a taxi, registered me at the emergency clinic, and translated everything the doctor said. The physician confirmed that the mosquito bites had caused a severe secondary skin infection, warning me to avoid spicy food and seafood, and prescribed a course of intravenous fluids. I sat in the quiet clinic, the cold IV fluid slowly dripping into the vein on the back of my hand. My phone buzzed. I thought it might be Wyatt, checking in on me. But when the screen lit up, it was a notification for a new social media update from Wyatt. It was a photo of Fiona in her diving gear, standing against the backdrop of a breathtakingly blue ocean, flashing a peace sign at the camera. His caption read: First time diving for this little scaredy-cat. She did amazing. Fiona had already left a comment below: Thanks to Wyatt for keeping me safe the whole time! He had replied with a simple, warm smiley face. The needle in my hand suddenly gave a sharp pinch, and a small line of dark red blood began to travel back up the clear plastic tube. Nadia quickly leaned over, pressing her thumb against the cotton ball over the injection site. “Don’t move, Valerie. You’ll blow the vein.” “Right,” I whispered, shutting my eyes and locking my phone screen. The tropical sun shone brightly through the clinic window. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled my senses, making my throat tighten. I sat there in that plastic chair, in a country where I didn’t speak the language, burning with a fever, while my boyfriend of four years was busy documenting another girl’s milestone. I realized then, with painful clarity, that when you are no longer loved, even your illnesses feel like an inconvenience to the world. By the time the nurse hung the third bag of fluids, I unlocked my phone, opened my contacts, and placed both Wyatt and Fiona on my blocked list. My fingers didn’t tremble as I did it. But my eyes burned, hot and dry. While Nadia went out to buy some plain rice porridge, I drifted off to sleep, leaning my head against the plastic back of the chair. When I opened my eyes, a warm hand was holding mine, gripping my fingers tightly. Wyatt was sitting in the chair next to mine. “Looks like the fever is finally coming down,” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse. His clothes smelled of sea salt and sun-dried cotton, and his hair was slightly windswept. He reached over, gently tucking the hospital blanket around my shoulders, his tone turning into a familiar, nagging murmur. “You really are something else, Valerie. Always so stubborn, trying to handle everything on your own without saying a word.” I stared at him, my heart entirely flat. “Why did you block my number?” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Don’t be so petty. Fiona sent you a dozen messages, she’s been worried sick about you.” I turned my head away, looking at the white wall. “Is this minor thing really worth making such a scene?” he asked, squeezing my hand. “I know you feel neglected, but you can’t just cut me off like this. Fiona and I grew up together, you know how close we are.” It was the same old pattern. First the blame, then the gentle coaxing, using his warmth to slowly quiet my anger until I began to doubt my own feelings. I looked at our joined hands. “Unblock me first,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against my temple. “Okay?” I pulled my head back, creating a clear space between us. He let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You rest up. I’ll go get you some warm water.” He let go of my hand, stood up, and walked out of the room. “Don’t run off,” he called back from the doorway. I waited. Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes. Forty minutes. The hot water dispenser was only at the end of the short corridor. I pulled the IV needle from my hand myself, pressing down on the cotton ball as I slowly walked out of the ward toward the front desk. The nurse looked up as I approached. I used the basic phrases Nadia had taught me, but the nurse struggled to understand. Fortunately, a young volunteer translator stepped in to help. “The man who was with you?” the volunteer said, thinking for a moment. “Oh, yes. A young lady came looking for him about thirty minutes ago, and he left with her.” I stood in the center of the quiet hospital corridor. The overhead fluorescent lights let out a low, constant hum. A medical trolley was pushed past me, its wheels squeaking loudly against the linoleum floor. I walked back to my room, folded the blanket neatly, and left it on the bed. The container of porridge Nadia had bought was still sitting on the nightstand, completely cold. I picked up the spoon and forced myself to swallow two bites. Then, I gathered my belongings, settled my bill at the reception desk, and stepped out of the clinic. The mid-day sun beat down on me, blindingly bright. I stood on the curb, opened my phone, and booked a ride directly to the international airport. It was only when the taxi pulled away from the curb that I realized I hadn’t shed a single tear. My chest just felt completely empty, as if some vital piece of me had been quietly removed, leaving behind a hollow space where my feelings used to be. By the time the plane climbed into the sky, the island of Ibiza was nothing more than a tiny speck in the vast blue ocean, the white coastline shrinking into a thin, fragile thread. I leaned my head against the cool window pane and finally closed my eyes. I was done waiting.

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1 The day the Winters family banquet topped social media, I realized my entire family had gone without me. On the giant screen, my mother fastened my birth heirloom locket around Fiona’s neck. My father faced the cameras, emotionally announcing her as the long-lost daughter. Meanwhile, I, the true daughter confirmed by three paternity tests, wasn’t even allowed past the gates. I packed my orphanage backpack in silence. Gavin blocked my door. “Fiona marries into the Harringtons soon. Once the merger is final, we’ll acknowledge you.” He frowned. “You’ve waited twenty years, Ruby. What’s two more days?” That night, the broken toy watch in my bag vibrated. Its blue screen showed seven-year-old me on an orphanage bench. The director called our home. My mother’s voice was cold. “Today is Fiona’s party. Do DNA tomorrow.” My father’s silence agreed. Young Gavin added, “Don’t tell Fiona. It’ll upset her.” As the call ended, a kind couple entered with a strawberry cake. The woman knelt. “Ruby, come home with us first?” But the little girl stared at the silent phone. “Sister, will Mommy and Daddy come tomorrow?” I gripped the vibrating watch, my knuckles white. “No,” I whispered. “Take the hands in front of you. Choose the parents who actually want you.” … The video feed on the tiny screen flickered, the static distorting the image for a brief second. The seven-year-old me was clutching a stuffed rabbit with a missing ear, her eyes still fixed on the heavy iron gates of the orphanage entrance. The couple, Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, didn’t push her. Mrs. Abbott carefully set the strawberry cake on the wooden bench, then knelt down so she was at eye level with the little girl. “We are just a temporary foster family, Ruby. You can come stay at our house for a few days first. If you don’t like it there, you can come back here whenever you want.” The little girl didn’t touch the cake. She was terrified that if she ate their food, her biological parents would think she was greedy and disobedient when they finally arrived. Before I could speak to her again, my bedroom door creaked open. My mother walked into the room carrying a bowl of hot soup, with Fiona trailing quietly behind her. “Did you skip dinner again?” Mother asked, setting the bowl down on my desk. “I made sure the kitchen didn’t use any peanut oil. You can drink this.” I stared at the soup, a strange, numb sensation creeping over me. In the three years since I had returned to the Winters’ household, this was the very first time she had remembered my life-threatening peanut allergy. But my quiet realization was shattered the next second when she opened a velvet jewelry box. Inside lay a stunning, heavy ruby necklace left behind by my late grandmother. “You’re going to accompany Fiona to her final bridal fitting tomorrow,” Mother said, her tone completely matter-of-fact. “Take this to the jeweler and have the chain shortened for her.” I closed the lid of the box with a soft click. “Grandmother made it very clear that this necklace was to be passed down only to the biological granddaughter of the Winters family.” Fiona’s eyes welled with tears instantly. Mother immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from my gaze. “The Winters and Harrington families agreed to this alliance years ago. Elder Harrington is on his deathbed, and after the wedding, he will transfer a significant portion of his corporate shares to whichever grandson fulfills the marriage contract. The contract specifies that the bride must be the biological daughter of the Winters family. Fiona and Garrett have been in love for five years. Do you really have the heart to ruin her life’s happiness?” I looked up at her, my voice quiet. “So, to keep the contract valid, you used my blood sample to forge a paternity test under her name?” Mother averted her gaze, unable to look me in the eye. I had been kidnapped at three and rescued at seven, retaining only the memory of my name and the gold heirloom locket. Two years after I went missing, the Winters had adopted five-year-old Fiona, registering my exact birth date as hers to fill the void. For the grand reunion banquet, they had used my biological blood sample but printed Fiona’s name on the official report. “Once she’s married, gets pregnant, and secures her position in the Harrington family, we will announce that the two of you were actually twins separated at birth,” Mother said, her voice turning pleading. “You’ll be able to claim your rightful place then.” Three years ago, my genetic profile had matched their family database. At the time, Mother had held my hands, weeping as she begged me to wait three months because Fiona was suffering from severe clinical depression. Three months became six, six months became a year, and now, it had been three years. And now, I was expected to wait for her to marry, get pregnant, and find her footing in another family. “And what about my life?” I asked. Fiona gently reached out, tugging on my sleeve, her voice trembling. “Ruby, I’m only borrowing your identity this once. Once the marriage is secured, I swear I’ll return everything to you.” I pulled my arm back, breaking her grip. “The locket around your neck, the necklace you’re wearing tomorrow, and the parents you call yours, which of those actually belongs to you?” Fiona’s face went entirely pale. Mother slammed her hand onto the desk, her voice rising in anger. “Ruby! Are you only going to be satisfied when you’ve torn this entire family apart?” On the screen of the toy watch, the little girl flinched at the sound of her voice. “Sister, who is that angry lady?” I looked at my mother’s protective stance over Fiona, and then down at the bowl of soup on my desk. “Someone who knows exactly what I can’t eat, but never remembers to choose me.” I hoisted my canvas backpack onto my shoulder and walked out of the room. The small leather name tag on the backpack had been hand-stitched by my father when I was a child. But just this morning, he had ordered the housemaids to hide the bag in the attic. He wasn’t blind; he simply didn’t want any of our high-society guests to see the worn-out relic of my past. On the watch screen, the candles on the small strawberry cake had nearly burnt down to the wax. “Ruby,” I whispered softly to the little girl. “Blow out the candles first. Don’t miss your own birthday waiting for people who aren’t coming.” The little girl hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward and blew out the tiny flames. Mrs. Abbott didn’t rush to hug her. She simply sliced a piece of the cake and placed it gently next to her hand. “Eat slowly, sweetheart. We’re right here.” The couple walked over to the far end of the hallway, sitting down quietly to give her space. On the morning before the wedding, Gavin tracked me down to my hotel room. The moment the door opened, he shoved a warm cup of soy milk into my hands. “Your stomach has been acting up lately. Don’t drink coffee on an empty stomach.” In the past, whenever I worked late into the night on my jewelry designs, he would show up at my desk with the exact same breakfast. But before the warmth of the cup could even reach my fingers, he tossed a legal document onto the table. It was an official public statement. It declared that the paternity test circulating online was a malicious forgery, and that Fiona was, and had always been, the sole biological daughter of the Winters family. Both my father and mother had already signed their names at the bottom. “Gavin,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Do you also believe that I’m an imposter?” Gavin looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. “This is just to satisfy the Harrington family for now. Once Fiona is pregnant, we’ll announce the twin story. You’ll still get to come home.” “So, to protect her, I have to publicly sign a paper declaring myself a liar?” He frowned, his expression tight with frustration. “Why must you always focus on your own petty grievances? The family has provided you with an apartment, a high-paying job, and a comfortable lifestyle. Why can’t you just make this small sacrifice for Fiona?” The final clause of the statement specified that by signing, I would also waive my rights to pursue any legal action against the Winters Group for intellectual property theft regarding my latest designs. I set the soy milk down on the table, untouched. “The apartment you gave me is a company dorm. I’ve been working at the Winters Group for three years, and the three jewelry collections I designed brought in over two hundred million in revenue, while my salary is less than half of the industry standard. Who is really supporting whom, Gavin?” Gavin’s face darkened significantly. “Ruby, family shouldn’t keep score like this.” “Every single time you take something that belongs to me, you tell me that family shouldn’t keep score,” I said, looking at him. “But the moment it’s my turn to be acknowledged, you calculate the cost more ruthlessly than anyone else.” Suddenly, the toy watch on the table lit up again. The seven-year-old me was sitting at a small kitchen table in the Abbotts’ home, a steaming bowl of birthday noodles in front of her. Mrs. Abbott placed a perfectly fried egg into her bowl. “We didn’t have much time to prepare today, Ruby. The gifts will have to wait, but I promise I’ll make it up to you every single year.” The little girl stared at the egg, her fork hovering in the air. “Mrs. Abbott, if I eat your noodles, am I still allowed to wait for my real parents tomorrow?” A look of deep pain flashed through Mrs. Abbott’s eyes, but she smiled warmly, smoothing back the little girl’s hair. “Of course you can, sweetheart. It’s your choice to wait for whoever you want. We are nice to you because we care about you, not to make you feel like you owe us anything.” A sudden lump of emotion caught in my throat. True family doesn’t hand you a warm drink only to force you to sign a document that strips away your identity and your hard work. Gavin noticed my gaze and looked down at the glowing toy watch. “What on earth are you looking at?” “A real family having dinner,” I said quietly. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “The family dinner with the Harringtons is tonight. If you sign that statement, you can attend. But you will only be introduced as our head jewelry designer. Don’t say anything stupid.” I picked up the statement from the table and, right in front of his eyes, tore it down the middle, and then tore it again. Gavin jumped to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Are you out of your mind?” “For three years, you didn’t allow me to tell anyone who I really was,” I said, tossing the shredded paper into the wastebasket. “And now, you want me to sign a paper declaring who I am not. I’m done playing your games, Gavin.” He snatched his coat from the sofa, his chest heaving with anger. “Fine. If you think you’re so independent, then don’t ever bother coming back to this family.” The door was slammed shut with a deafening bang. On the screen of the watch, the little girl finally lowered her head and took a bite of the noodles, her tears falling quietly into the broth. “Mrs. Abbott, is the reason my real parents aren’t coming because I’m not a good girl?” Mrs. Abbott didn’t offer any cheap platitudes. She gently pulled a tissue from the box and wiped the broth from the corner of the little girl’s mouth. “No, sweetheart,” she said softly. “When you were rescued, you couldn’t remember your address, and the police had to rely on DNA samples to find your family. They sent multiple notifications to your parents, but they kept asking to delay the meeting.” She pulled the weeping little girl into a tight, warm embrace. “It’s not because you aren’t good. It’s because they failed to protect you.” I sat in my quiet hotel room, staring at the screen. That single sentence was something I had waited twenty long years to hear. And in the end, it was spoken by a complete stranger. On the morning of the wedding, I was awakened by a frantic phone call from my assistant. “Ruby, you need to look at social media right now. You’re trending.” An edited video had been leaked online. It showed me standing in the VIP lounge of the reunion banquet, holding my paternity test results, demanding my shares of the Winters Group. The video was edited to cut out all context, leaving only my sharp, demanding words. “Everything that belongs to me, you will return. Not a single thing less.” Fiona had already posted a response, begging the public not to “use biological ties to hurt my beloved parents.” The comment sections were filled with thousands of users calling me a greedy, heartless gold-digger trying to extort a wealthy family. I drove straight to the Winters Group headquarters, where my father was already waiting for me in his office. He slid a studio transfer agreement across the desk, along with my favorite left-handed drawing tablet. “The studio on the top floor has the best light, and I had the desk customized specifically for your left hand. You’ll have your own independent creative space now, so you won’t have to answer to anyone else.” I flipped open the contract. The studio and its intellectual property would remain under the Winters Group. All future design collections would be credited to Fiona as the lead designer, and I would receive a mere ten percent of the design royalties. Father poured me a cup of warm water, his tone soft and paternal. “Ruby, it’s not that I don’t love you.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “So, you built me a desk that fits my left hand, only to use it to tie both of my hands behind my back?” The gentle smile on his face froze. Before he could respond, the door burst open. Fiona ran into the room, sobbing hysterically as she cradled a damaged bridal tiara in her hands. “The central blue diamond has been removed, and the Harrington family representatives are arriving in an hour to inspect the final piece!” That blue diamond was a rare, raw stone left to me by my grandmother as a personal inheritance. I had removed it from the piece the night before. Father’s voice turned stern and commanding. “Put the diamond back, Ruby. Once the wedding is over, I’ll buy you an even larger stone to make up for it.” I didn’t answer him. I packed my drawing tablet and my tools into my bag and walked out of the office. At the hotel’s grand ballroom, the two families were gathering to take their formal pre-wedding portraits. The photographer, seeing me walk past with my gear, paused. “Is this young lady also a daughter of the Winters family?” Gavin immediately stepped in front of me, blocking the lens. “No. She’s just our contracted designer.” I walked past them and entered the private bridal dressing room. The tiara lay on the vanity table next to a registration form for the International Jewelry Design Awards. The name in the “Lead Designer” slot had already been filled in: Fiona Winters. The collection I had spent four agonizing months designing was being handed over as part of her dowry. Fiona slipped into the room, her eyes red and puffy. “Ruby,” she whispered. “The Harrington family requires a prestigious daughter-in-law with an artistic pedigree. Once I win the award, I’ll split the prize money and the recognition with you fifty-fifty.” “Do you honestly believe I care about the prize money?” I asked, packing my tools. “But you already have the talent, Ruby!” she cried, her voice rising. “I have absolutely nothing. Can’t you just let me win this one time?” “No.” As I reached out to grab the tiara, Gavin suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip incredibly tight. My wrist slammed against the sharp edge of the marble vanity, and blood immediately began to seep through my skin. His face paled, and he instantly let go, pulling a sterile adhesive bandage from his suit pocket. “Your hands are your livelihood, you can’t let them scar.” He wrapped the bandage around my wrist with extreme care. For a brief, foolish second, my heart softened at his gentleness. But then, he held out his open palm to me. “Give me the blue diamond, Ruby. Fiona’s been crying outside for half an hour.” That late, sweet tenderness was nothing more than a poison-tipped blade wrapped in sugar. On the screen of my watch, the seven-year-old version of me was shivering in a hospital bed, her face flushed with a dangerous, high fever. Mr. Abbott was drenched in rain, having run three miles to carry her to the emergency room, while Mrs. Abbott stood by the bed, her clothes soaking wet. The orphanage director was holding a phone, her voice filled with quiet anger. “The Winters family just called. They said their adopted daughter got incredibly hysterical when she heard that the biological child had been found. They want to delay the DNA verification for a few more days.” Mr. Abbott’s face was dark with fury. “The child is burning with a hundred-and-four-degree fever, and they still refuse to come?” The little girl lay on the pillow, her eyes half-closed as she whispered, “Will my real daddy come to see me?” I reached into my bag, pulled out my laptop, and unplugged the flash drive containing the design authorizations. Then, I unlocked my phone and started a live broadcast. “Ruby,” I whispered to the little girl on the screen. “Remember the people who are holding your hand tonight.” With a single tap, I posted a formal legal notice from my attorneys. We are officially revoking all design and copyright authorizations granted to the Winters Group for the ‘Homebound’ collection and all associated bridal jewelry. The wedding was scheduled to begin in exactly two hours. Within ten minutes of the post going live, the hotel’s security team blocked all the exits of the bridal suite. My phone was confiscated on my father’s orders, and Gavin personally escorted me back into the dressing room. Fiona sat in front of the vanity in her magnificent white gown, her face streaked with tears. My mother walked over, carrying a tube of soothing ointment, and gently took my injured hand. “Does it hurt, sweetheart?” She applied the ointment, blowing softly on the cut just as she used to do when I was a toddler. As a child, I had spent countless nights wondering if my mother would ever comfort me like this if I got hurt. But the moment the ointment was applied, she pushed the tiara toward me. “Ruby, I’m begging you. Put the blue diamond back. Don’t ruin your sister’s entire life.” I pulled my hand out of her grasp. “And what about my life?” Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, unable to answer. Fiona stood up, her silk train rustling against the floor. “It’s not my fault you were kidnapped! I’ve been the one taking care of our parents for the last twenty years! When Mom was sick, I was the one who stayed up all night in the hospital. When Dad had surgery, I was the one who signed the consent forms. When Gavin was in that car accident, I was the one who refused to leave his side! Are you really going to strip away my name, my parents, and my marriage the second you return?” For the first time, she didn’t hide behind our mother. Her eyes were flashing with anger. “So,” I said, looking at her. “You were the one who leaked that edited video of me?” Her face paled, but she didn’t deny it. “I only did it to protect my wedding. Once I’m married into the Harrington family, I will compensate you for everything.” I reached into the secret compartment of my bag and pulled out my backup phone. Father’s voice boomed across the room. “Turn that off immediately!” “This phone has been broadcasting a live stream to my legal team’s secure cloud server since the moment I walked in,” I said, holding the device steady. “The security footage of your team blocking my exit has already been saved. My lawyers are preparing charges for identity theft, document forgery, copyright infringement, and unlawful detention.” Gavin’s voice was hoarse as he stepped in front of the door. “Ruby, do you really have to drive everyone in this family to a dead end?” “You chose this road yourself,” I said. “But this time, I won’t be the one paying the price for your choices.” Suddenly, the toy watch on my wrist began to vibrate violently. On the tiny screen, the orphanage director was kneeling beside the seven-year-old version of me. “Ruby, Mr. and Mrs. Abbott are willing to take you in for permanent foster care. Your biological family says they will come for the verification once Fiona’s emotional state stabilizes.” Outside the orphanage windows, the rain was pouring down. Mr. and Mrs. Abbott stood under the wooden eaves, holding a pair of bright yellow rain boots they had bought for her, waiting patiently without pushing her to make a decision. The little girl clutched her stuffed rabbit, her eyes fixed on the empty iron gates. “Sister, if I leave with them, what if my real daddy and mommy come tomorrow and can’t find me?” The tears finally spilled over my eyelashes. “They know exactly where you are, Ruby. But they are still choosing to make you wait, over and over again.” The little girl looked down at her worn-out shoes. After a long, quiet moment, she dropped the stuffed rabbit onto the bench, ran out into the pouring rain, and threw her arms tightly around Mrs. Abbott’s neck. “Mommy,” she sobbed, her voice cracking. The tiny screen of the toy watch suddenly shattered into a web of fine cracks, the light fading into black. In the dressing room, the crystal chandeliers suddenly flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. A massive flood of warm, beautiful, and completely unfamiliar memories rushed into my mind, making my head spin. At the exact same moment, my mother’s smartphone on the vanity table lit up with an automatic notification. A text message sent twenty years ago from the orphanage database appeared on her screen. Mrs. Winters, Ruby has officially entered the permanent foster care program with the Abbott family. Are you absolutely certain you are not coming for the identity verification today? Directly below it was her own reply from twenty years ago. Yes, we are certain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “522223”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Grace stormed into the coffee shop, pointing a trembling finger right at my face. “Serena, didn’t you say you were over him? What the hell are you doing trying to seduce my boyfriend now?” She screamed that I was playing the saint. She called me a vindictive bitch. She said I was like a ghost that just wouldn’t leave them alone. But when her emotions completely boiled over, she slipped up right in front of Tristan. “That love letter was originally written to you by her anyway!” The air in the cafe instantly went dead silent. Tristan whipped his head around to look at me. The look in his eyes shattered into something unrecognizable. Because until this very second, he had absolutely no idea that the heartfelt letter that first made him fall in love was never written by Grace. It was me. It was written by the very girl he had just called “fucking disgusting” for having a crush on him. 1 I dragged my suitcase into the apartment and pushed the front door open. The living room was empty. Just as I let out a breath of relief, Grace’s hushed voice drifted out from the guest bedroom. “Babe, do you really think this color looks good on me?” She must have assumed nobody was home, leaving her phone on speaker. A second later, Tristan’s low, amused voice echoed through the hallway. “It’s perfect.” “Wear exactly that next time I see you.” “And don’t forget to book…” I didn’t bother waiting. I dragged my heavy luggage straight across the hardwood floor, intentionally stomping my boots. The moment the noise echoed, the call was abruptly cut off. The apartment plunged into a suffocating, heavy silence. Grace peeked her head out from behind the half closed door. A lingering, bashful flush was still painted across her cheeks, caught halfway between romance and panic. “Sere, you’re back from your dance tour?” I paused my steps. My gaze drifted sideways and landed right on the dining table. There was a framed polaroid sitting there. In the photo, Grace was leaning against Tristan, smiling sweetly. Tristan had his face turned toward her, the corners of his lips quirked up. His usual arrogant, untouchable finance bro persona was completely gone, replaced by a rare, soft affection. Looking at them like that, they really did look like the perfect couple. I lowered my eyelashes and pulled my gaze away. Since I didn’t say a word, Grace waited a beat before nervously biting her bottom lip. “Sere, I texted you so many times over the past couple of months, but you ghosted me.” “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” I still didn’t answer her. I just wheeled my suitcase into my own room and shoved it against the wall. After two months of being empty, a thin layer of dust had settled over my furniture. I grabbed a bottle of cleaning spray and started wiping down my desk, acting as if she didn’t even exist. But she didn’t take the hint. She followed me to the doorway, her voice dropping into a pathetic, whiny pitch. “We used to be so close. Are we really going to let this ruin everything?” “You promised me before. You said no matter what happens, we would always be best friends.” My hand froze on the polishing cloth. She was right. In this massive city, she used to be the closest person I had. She had a soft, passive personality. Whenever trouble hit, she would shrink back, and I was always the one stepping up to shield her. I had a fiery temper, and whenever I was about to snap, she would be the one holding my arm, softly talking me down. We were total opposites. That was exactly why we clicked. She came from a struggling family and was hypersensitive about everything. Most of the time, I instinctively compromised just to protect her feelings. That was why I made that promise. I told her we would always be best friends. But the entire foundation of that promise was based on the fact that I actually considered her a friend. And her? She knew damn well that I was head over heels for Tristan. Tristan was a big name in the investment circles. He was young, came from old money, and had a razor sharp mind. He always carried this lazy, untouchable arrogance. And with a face that looked like it belonged on a billboard, he naturally drew every eye in the room wherever he went. The first time I saw him was at an industry cocktail gala. The venue was packed, but he stood right in the center of the crowd. He casually took a champagne flute from a passing waiter, listening to someone talk with a bored, detached expression. Yet, he was undeniably magnetic. That was the exact moment I experienced my first real, consuming crush. Later on, I asked around about him. Plenty of women threw themselves at him, but his standards were sky high. Off the clock, he never gave anyone the time of day. Because of that, I decided to do something completely out of character. I decided to write him a letter. It was old school. It was borderline embarrassing. But at that time, I couldn’t think of a more sincere way to show him how I felt. I spent an entire week drafting that letter. Every night, I hunched over my desk, rewriting paragraphs, terrified of sounding too aggressive but scared of being too subtle. I chewed on every single word. But the timing was a total nightmare. My dance company suddenly changed the tour schedule. Rehearsals were bumped up, and I had to leave with the crew the very next morning. I would be gone for weeks. While I was stressing out about how to deliver the envelope, Grace volunteered. She promised she would hand it to him personally. I was so incredibly grateful. I even hugged her, spun her around in the living room, and promised I would treat her to the most expensive steakhouse in the city the second I got back. Then came that afternoon. The air inside the tour bus was thick with the suffocating smell of stale leather and cheap cigarettes. I already had terrible motion sickness, and my stomach was doing violent flips. Right then, a dancer I barely knew forwarded me a screenshot with a quick text attached. [Hey, did your roommate get a new man?] I clicked on the image. It was Grace’s newest Instagram post. In the picture, she and Tristan were pressed close together. The caption only had a single heart emoji, but the message was crystal clear. They were going public. I stared at that screenshot for a very, very long time. A sickening wave of absurdity washed over me, hollowing out my chest until I felt entirely numb. Pure instinct made me open my own Instagram app. I went to Grace’s profile and dragged the screen down to refresh. Over and over. Nothing. She had hidden the post from me. But I still refused to believe it. My hands were shaking violently as I typed out a message, directly asking if she was actually dating Tristan. The typing bubble popped up on the screen. It flashed on and off. On and off. For a painful amount of time. Five agonizing minutes later, she sent a crying emoji. Then, a single word. [Yeah.] I gripped the plastic sick bag in my hand until my knuckles turned white. The next second, my body gave out. I hunched over and threw up everything in my stomach. Later on, Grace gave me her version of the story. She claimed she was just too softhearted, too terrible at rejecting people. She said Tristan was the one who approached her that day, saying he wanted to take her out. She panicked, felt pressured, and just agreed. At the end of her speech, she practically whispered an apology. According to her narrative, Tristan had laid eyes on her first. He never even accepted my letter. She claimed she tried to force it into his hand, but he didn’t even glance at it before tossing it straight into a trash can. Was that really the truth? To find out what actually happened, I practically begged the tour director for a leave of absence. I got chewed out for it, but I still managed to squeeze out half a day from my packed schedule. I marched straight to the upscale restaurant where they had met. I spent hours grinding down the manager until they finally let me view the security footage from the hallway that day. When the video played, the opening scene looked straight out of a cheap romantic comedy. At the corner of the corridor, the two of them bumped into each other. Grace twisted her ankle, stumbling forward and plunging right into Tristan’s chest. Tristan instinctively caught her by the waist. He didn’t let go immediately. He just looked down at her, his gaze slowly dragging across her face. Then, he noticed the envelope in her hand. He raised an eyebrow. “For me?” Grace stared up at him, looking completely starstruck. But before she could even utter a syllable, Tristan smoothly plucked the envelope from her fingers. He glanced down, scanning the words. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, and his tone turned playful. “Beautifully written. You’re pretty cute, too. Let’s see, your name is…” At the very bottom of that page, my name and my phone number were written in crisp, clear ink. But just as he was about to read the signature, Grace lunged forward and snatched the paper right out of his hands. She was visibly panicked. Even through the silent footage, I could tell her whole demeanor was shaking. Through reading her lips, I caught her exact words. “That one doesn’t count. I was going to rewrite it.” “My name is Grace.” She lied to me. From the very beginning, every single word out of her mouth was a lie. That exact same night, I went to confront her face to face. She tried to play dumb at first. But when I cornered her with the details until she had nowhere left to hide, her face went ghost white. She finally choked out a humiliated confession. And I didn’t bother keeping her dirty little secret. It didn’t take long for the drama to spread through our mutual friend group. Unable to handle the social pressure, Grace finally called Tristan out to a cafe to confess the truth. I was there that day too. Sitting a few tables away, I watched them through the glass partition. Grace’s eyes were bloodshot. She tilted her face up, tears spilling over as she asked him a question. “If that letter never existed, would you still have chosen me?” Hearing that, Tristan frowned slightly. But a second later, looking at her tear soaked, pathetic face, the hesitation melted out of his eyes. He reverted back to his usual indulgent, comforting persona. He leaned across the table, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips with a lazy smile. “Of course, babe.” “You’re the one I fell for. It doesn’t matter who wrote that piece of paper.” Standing in the shadows, I watched that exact scene unfold with crystal clarity. The foot I had just lifted to walk over and expose everything slowly pulled back. The misunderstanding had been cleared up. It was in that very moment I finally understood a harsh reality. Nobody in the real world is going to abandon a gorgeous girl crying right in front of them for a faceless stranger they had never even met. If they were still choosing to be together, it meant he never gave a damn about the truth in the first place. I paused my cleaning, my voice completely flat. “I don’t want to dig up ancient history.” “But we don’t have to pretend we’re still close.” I thought setting that boundary would be the end of the conversation. But Grace just stood there. In the heavy silence, a sudden, low chuckle came through her phone speaker. It was a light laugh, but it dripped with arrogant mockery. Tristan was clearly stepping in to defend his girl. “She’s pretty good at playing the victim.” My fingers tightened around the rag. The next second, acting as if I hadn’t heard a damn thing, I lowered my head and kept scrubbing the wood. By nightfall, our other two roommates finally got home. The moment they walked in and saw me, their faces lit up with pure excitement. “Serena! I saw the clip of your solo performance on TikTok. It was absolutely insane, the comment section is practically worshipping you!” “Seriously, you are putting our studio on the map. Gorgeous face, flawless technique.” I was holding my iPad, reviewing the stage footage. Hearing them, I looked up and gave them a genuine smile. “Thanks guys.” The second the words left my mouth, Grace chimed in with her syrupy voice. “My boyfriend just ordered us some treats from that luxury bakery downtown. Who wants to come down to the lobby and grab them with me?” Just like that, the energy in the room completely shifted toward her. The two roommates immediately agreed, following her out the door like excited puppies. A few minutes later, they walked back in holding glossy paper bags. But the vibe when they entered was instantly awkward. Four girls lived in this apartment, but there were only three luxury drinks in the carrier. Grace paused dramatically before pushing her own cup across the table toward me. She wore a perfectly calculated look of guilt. “Sere, you can have mine.” “I am so sorry. You just got back today, and he’s so used to just ordering for three. He probably just forgot we had an extra person home.” I dropped my gaze to the plastic cup. It was a Mango Passionfruit Frappe. In that moment, I just felt utterly exhausted by her existence. “I’m allergic to mangoes.” The tragic, innocent look on Grace’s face instantly froze. I dragged my eyes away from the bright yellow drink and stared dead into her eyes. “And you know that.” The living room went dead silent. I leaned back against the sofa. My voice wasn’t loud, but every syllable cut like glass. “Grace, do I really have to spell it out for you?” “We are not in the same lane anymore. I don’t give a damn about Tristan, and whoever you want to sleep with is your own business.” “But stop trying to test me with this petty bullshit.” She stared at me in shock for two seconds before full blown panic set in. “I… I honestly just forgot.” Before she even finished her sentence, the tears were already spilling over. “I’m sorry, Sere, I didn’t do it on purpose.” “You never used to talk to me like this…” Her voice got smaller and smaller, playing the ultimate victim. “If you really can’t get over what happened, I can move out.” I almost laughed out loud. Somehow, she always managed to spin the narrative so I looked like the villain holding a knife to her throat. Back then, I was the jealous obstacle in her epic romance. Now, I was the toxic bully forcing her out of her own home. “Suit yourself.” I snapped my iPad shut, stood up, and walked straight to my room. I shut the door behind me, locking her fragile, crying face on the other side. The hallway was incredibly quiet. The other two roommates were still standing in the living room, completely mute. They had watched Grace and me go from inseparable best friends to this toxic wasteland. They knew exactly who did what. But Tristan was generous with his wealth. He constantly treated them to expensive dinners and VIP club tables. They were taking the perks. When you owe someone favors, it’s hard to take the moral high ground. Neither of them wanted to offend the rich boyfriend, so they chose silence. The second I sat on my bed, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my best friend from back home. [Babe, you’re back? I just heard some wild gossip. Did you make Tristan’s girl cry?] She worked in the finance crowd, so she ran into Tristan way more often than I did. She was actually the one who originally swore to me that Tristan’s ideal type was exactly me. A brunette with porcelain skin who knew how to dress. She said I checked every single box. That was why I got stupidly brave and wrote the first love letter of my life. And look how that turned out. He turned right around and fell for Grace. Sensing the awkwardness of bringing it up, my friend rapidly fired off another text. [Ugh, sorry babe. How was I supposed to know his ‘ideal type’ was just whoever threw themselves at him. Trash.] [Honestly, as long as a girl is pretty, that guy will take her.] I stared at the glowing screen, not typing anything back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow pacing under the crack of my bedroom door. I stood up and silently cracked the door open just a fraction. The living room lights were blazing. Grace was curled up in the corner of the velvet sofa, wiping her tears with one hand while her other thumb flew across her phone screen at lightning speed. She was definitely whining to someone. Waiting for her knight in shining armor to come validate her. My phone buzzed again. [Tristan is throwing a massive fit right now. He’s telling everyone he’s going to move his girlfriend out of that toxic apartment.] I walked slowly back to my mattress and typed a single letter. [K.] Realizing I truly couldn’t care less about that drama, my best friend quickly changed the subject. [By the way, that clip of your solo is going insanely viral on our side of the internet. It’s hilarious, half the Wall Street bros are turning into your fanboys.] [You are actually incredible. Every time I tell people we’re friends, I feel like royalty.] Reading that, I reached up, lightly touching my own cheek, and smiled down at the screen. [Thanks.] After a second of thought, I added one more thing. [Honestly, it’s mostly because the videographer was a genius.] That wasn’t fake modesty. The video that blew up wasn’t taken from the official studio cameras. It was captured by a freelance photographer in the audience. The lens work was incredibly stable, the angles were flawless, and he even managed to catch the exact microsecond I paused and looked up at the stage lights. He captured the absolute peak of my emotion and technique perfectly. After the competition ended, he actually came backstage to find me and asked for my number. The backstage area had been total chaos, dancers and crew running everywhere. He stood right in front of me. He was tall, with striking pale skin, but the tips of his ears were burning red. His dark eyes were piercingly bright. He didn’t use cheap pickup lines, and he wasn’t slick about it. He just had this raw, nervous sincerity. “Hi, I’m Tony.” “If you don’t mind, I would really like to get to know you properly.” I stared at him for two full seconds that night, then nodded. “Sure.” Grace was actually packing her bags. From the dramatic banging of closet doors, it looked like she had genuinely made up her mind to leave. I honestly thought the whole mess would be resolved tonight. But after she grabbed her designer purse and stormed out for an hour, she came back with a completely different attitude. It looked like whatever apartment she wanted hadn’t worked out. Later that night, I took the trash down to the alley. Just as I stepped out of the lobby doors, I ran straight into Grace and Tristan standing on the sidewalk. They were fighting. Grace was crying hysterically, her voice trembling, clearly having a total meltdown. Tristan was standing under the amber glow of the streetlamp. His face was dark with annoyance, but he still reached out, pulling her tightly against his chest and murmuring low comforts into her hair. Pedestrians kept walking by, constantly throwing curious glances their way. With a face like his, he naturally attracted an audience no matter what he was doing. Right at that moment, he casually lifted his eyes and looked straight in my direction. Pure reflex kicked in. I immediately averted my gaze, acting like I was completely oblivious, turned around, and marched back into the building. Back in my bathroom, I went through my normal routine. Cleanser, toner, face mask. Whatever toxic soap opera was happening outside had absolutely nothing to do with me. A little while later, Grace came back inside. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She had clearly been sobbing for hours. “Serena.” I was sitting at my vanity mirror. I didn’t bother turning around. She stopped right outside my open door. She stood in silence for a few seconds before slowly forcing the words out. “You told me before that you have zero feelings for Tristan anymore, right?” “You promised you wouldn’t try to wedge yourself between us again.” I caught her reflection in the glass and let out a dry, breathy laugh. “I’m not that desperate.” I paused, adding a cold afterthought. “And for the record, it’s not called wedging myself in. I liked him before you guys ever got together. But now? I’m completely repulsed.” “Besides, I already have…” The words died in my throat. Another man’s face suddenly flashed through my mind. It was from the celebration party a few weeks ago. After the final showcase, our entire dance company was partying in a VIP lounge. I had downed a few too many cocktails and was feeling incredibly loose. Eventually, I slipped out of the deafening club alone and crouched on the concrete steps outside to get some fresh air. Honestly, losing the guy I had a crush on wasn’t what kept me up at night. It wasn’t Tristan. It was the sickening realization that I had handed my absolute loyalty to the wrong person. I treated her like a sister, and in the end, she drove a knife straight into my spine. All those little memories of us hanging out suddenly played backward in my head. Only now did I realize that even during that first industry gala, when she was sitting right next to me, I was too blind to recognize the way she was staring at Tristan. That burning, obsessive focus. That raw, undisguised lust. She looked exactly like I did. Why didn’t she just tell me? Why did she have to scheme, hide, and lie to my face? Lost in the memory, I looked down and realized my palms were soaked with my own tears. Right at that moment, someone quietly sat down on the cold concrete next to me and pressed a warm cup of water into my hands. I aggressively wiped my eyes and instinctively tried to stand up. But my brain forgot I was crouching right on the edge of the stairs. My heel slipped, and I pitched violently forward. By the time my senses caught up, I had crashed face first into someone’s chest. My forehead pressed against a solid, muscular shoulder. The crisp, clean scent of cedar body wash instantly flooded my senses. The night breeze drifted past, carrying the sticky heat of the late summer. He gripped my arms to steady me. His hands were incredibly strong. Even his voice was magnetic. But the words that came out of his mouth were awkwardly endearing. “Miss Serena, I’m really terrible at comforting people.” “But if it’s possible, please don’t be this sad.” I froze. A second later, I couldn’t hold it back. I burst out laughing right into his chest. Tony used to send me a lot of his photography work. Pictures of him hanging off sheer ice walls, or standing near the treacherous snowlines of massive peaks. The man in those photos was a rock. Even through a phone screen, you could feel this intense, fearless drive radiating off him. In real life, he always seemed like the kind of guy who could handle absolutely anything. But the second he was alone with me, he turned into a mess. His eyes would constantly dart away, and his voice would get tight and formal. But once our crazy work schedules finally cleared up a bit, he started making aggressive moves. It wasn’t just him replying to my texts anymore. I could send him the most random thought, and he would effortlessly carry the conversation for hours. Sometimes he would order artisan pastries or iced lattes and have them delivered directly to the dance studio lobby. But the universe had a sick sense of humor. The treats he sent almost always matched the exact same luxury brands Grace was dragging into our apartment. After it happened three times, the way Grace looked at me completely changed. She stared at me like a guard dog, convinced I was a thief waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I had absolutely no desire to invite that kind of drama into my life. And I was definitely too exhausted to listen to her passive aggressive comments about how I was “copying her aesthetic.” So, when Tony tried to send more gifts, I respectfully turned them down. Naturally, our texting cooled off a bit too. Until today. He messaged me, asking if I wanted to go out and shoot a new portrait series. I had the afternoon off, so I agreed without a second thought. Before leaving the apartment, I dug through my closet for a sleek sundress and did some light makeup. One of my roommates leaned against the doorframe, watching me with a teasing grin. “Ooh, Sere, got a hot date?” “Yeah.” Her eyes dropped to my wrist and locked onto it. “Wait, that bracelet looks super familiar. It looks like a couples design.” “Is there a new man in the picture?” My fingers stopped moving. I looked down, lightly brushing the braided cord on my wrist. Tony had given this to me. He claimed he wove it himself. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now that she pointed it out, it did feel a little too intimate. The other roommate immediately rushed over, her gossip radar fully activated. “No way, seriously?” “Who’s the god tier guy that actually managed to lock down our Serena?” “Let me see!” “Can I take a closer look?” Right in the middle of the excitement, Grace’s sharp voice cut through the air. I turned around. She was staring dead at the bracelet on my wrist. The color had completely drained from her face, looking at me like I was wearing stolen jewelry. “Sere… why do you have that bracelet?” Her vocal cords sounded incredibly tight. “Tristan has the exact same one. I’d recognize it anywhere. That specific pattern is the emblem his old college photography club used to use.” She glared at me, a toxic mix of panic and manufactured victimhood twisting her features, like I was actively hiding a dirty affair from her. I rubbed the pad of my thumb against the textured knots of the bracelet. “A friend gave it to me.” She attacked instantly. “Who?” “A photographer. A mutual friend from the financial district introduced us.” “Are you absolutely sure it wasn’t Tristan?” “…No.” “Then how can you prove it?” That aggressive, interrogating tone instantly vaporized the last shred of my patience. I lifted my eyes, my expression turning utterly glacial. “Don’t you think you’re overstepping your boundaries?” I took a breath, letting my voice drop into a lethal calm. “I told you a long time ago. I am completely over Tristan, and I don’t covet other women’s boyfriends.” “I am not like you. I don’t steal things that belong to someone else.” Grace’s entire body went rigid. A second later, she bit her lip, and her eyes flushed a brilliant red. Crying again. I was officially done accommodating her emotional manipulation. I grabbed my purse and walked straight out the front door. Following the location Tony sent, I arrived at a sleek, high-end business cafe. Before I even pushed the heavy glass doors open, I spotted two men through the window. Tony was sitting in a leather booth. Tristan was leaning casually against the espresso bar, scowling down at his phone. Judging by his posture, he had just finished listening to a frantic voice note. He muttered something under his breath, looking violently irritated. I knew how to read lips a little bit. So I saw exactly what he was saying. He was talking about me. The phrase “my girlfriend’s psycho roommate” was repeated multiple times. It was obvious Grace had called him crying to complain. The absolute disgust on his face wasn’t even hidden. Finally, a cruel smirk twisted his lips as he tossed out a final sentence. “Being liked by someone like her is fucking disgusting.”

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When my girlfriend and I got reborn back into our high school days, she dumped me on the spot. She thought I was a loser with no future, so she turned around and accepted the school bully’s confession. Just like that, she became the trophy wife of a wealthy bad boy, winning at both love and her career. Meanwhile, I was still just painting. When we met again, she was clinging to the very bully who used to torment her. Looking down at me, drenched and shivering, she sneered, “Without me, is the great artist Liam really living such a pathetic life?” I just smiled faintly. But later, when my childhood sweetheart— Amelia, the sole heiress to the massive Montgomery fortune—wrapped her arms around mine and pouted, Chloe’s eyes went red. “Liam! You promised you’d be with me forever!” When I arrived at the reunion party, I still spotted Chloe instantly in the crowd. She was leaning against Zack’s shoulder, smiling sweetly. The old classmates around them were practically kissing their feet. “Chloe, you’re so famous now.” “Yeah, a major influencer! You have over a million followers on TikTok, right?” “And you actually snagged Zack. He was the school king back then.” Chloe smiled shyly. Zack, clearly loving the attention, waved his hand dismissively. “Tonight’s tab is on me. Drink up, everyone.” The crowd cheered. Amidst the laughter, I heard someone mention my name. “Where’s Liam? Why isn’t he here yet? I know you guys broke up, but he was the school heartthrob back then.” Chloe’s smile faltered, and she gave a casual shrug. “Liam and I just weren’t compatible. We haven’t kept in touch since the breakup.” Zack glanced around the room, his eyes turning cold. “Let’s not bring up the past.” Seeing that Chloe and Zack looked annoyed, the others quickly changed the subject. I walked in quietly, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. A few old friends spotted me and immediately threw their arms around my shoulders. “Look who finally made it!” “Our former school heartthrob!” “Whoa, dude, why are you so messy?” “Hey, waiter, get some towels over here!” I offered a polite smile, taking the towel. I played it down. “I had a little wipeout on my bike on the way here.” “I like riding my bike for exercise. The hotel wasn’t far from my place, so I just rode over.” Chloe had been staring at me since the moment I walked in. Feeling her gaze, I looked back. Our eyes locked for a fraction of a second. In that moment, I saw pure mockery and disdain in her eyes. She snuggled closer to Zack, sporting flawless makeup and a designer outfit that screamed luxury—a stark contrast to my mud-stained clothes. Beside her, Zack was watching me too. Zack came from a ridiculously wealthy family. They were practically royalty around here. The two of them sat in the center seats like the perfect power couple. And then there was me. I wiped the dirt off my clothes, looking like a total mess. But honestly, I didn’t care. When I paint, I often end up covered in paint anyway. I gave them a polite smile, looked away, and started chatting with other classmates. Zack smirked, his eyes dripping with contempt. Since we hadn’t seen each other in years, everyone had endless things to talk about. “Hey, do you guys remember Amelia Montgomery from the Honors class?” “The school queen? Of course!” “Yeah, her! I heard the Montgomery family officially announced her as the sole heiress to their entire empire.” “Oh my god. Beautiful, rich, and the sole heir. Whoever marries her is set for life.” “But a girl boss like Amelia probably doesn’t even care about men.” I looked down at my phone, keeping quiet. My wet clothes were clinging to me uncomfortably. Since the food wasn’t served yet, I got up to wash some of the mud off in the restroom. My phone kept buzzing in my pocket. I patiently replied to the texts on Snapchat. But when I stepped out of the restroom, I ran right into Chloe at the corner. I knew she was with Zack, so I ignored her and tried to walk past. But she called out to me. “Liam, all these years, and you’re still the same useless loser.” “Just thinking about the fact that I used to date you makes me cringe. You don’t even have a decent car.” I turned to meet her mocking eyes and said calmly, “I like my life.” “You—” Chloe’s face flushed with anger. “Fine. If you love being a loser, I hope you stay one forever.” I smiled and turned to leave, but her voice followed me. “You’re still so stubborn, never willing to back down. If you had just listened to me back then, you could be driving a sports car right now, being worshipped by everyone—just like me.” “But I know you. Even if you claim you like this life, deep down, you regret it.”

Regret? I dazed off for a moment, my mind drifting back to my past life. My history with Chloe actually started because of Zack. Chloe was a transfer student in our class. Her family was poor, and somehow, she rubbed Zack the wrong way. Zack was the notorious school bully. Even the teachers turned a blind eye to him. So, he targeted Chloe. He used a pocket knife to leave horrible scars on her arms, locked her in the dirty bathroom stalls, and cornered her in alleys after school just to beat her up. I was the one who saved her. After calling the cops, I rushed into that alleyway. The moment Zack’s blade was about to slash Chloe’s face, I threw myself over her. Before the police arrived, Zack unleashed all his rage on me. I was an art student. But Zack used his expensive sneakers to stomp on and break my fingers. Because of that, I missed my portfolio submission for CalArts. Chloe and I ended up going to a mediocre college together and got married right after graduation. But soon, we started having screaming matches. It all started at a high school reunion. When she saw how lavishly Zack treated his girlfriend, her heart began to waver. Zack was a famous wealthy playboy. After graduation, he had actually confessed to Chloe. He claimed he had fallen in love with her *while* he was bullying her. But Chloe was already with me back then, so she rejected him. Now, she regretted it. Honestly, our life back then wasn’t even bad. Even though I couldn’t go to my dream art school, we both graduated from a decent university. I never gave up painting in my spare time. Combined, we had saved over a hundred thousand dollars in our bank account. But she wasn’t satisfied. She believed she deserved better. “Liam, I’m asking you one last time. Are you coming with me or not?” My breath hitched as I stared at her in disbelief. Leave? It wasn’t that simple. It meant abandoning everything we had built. Was the wealthy world out there really that great? I didn’t understand. “Chloe, why are you so desperate to leave?” She sneered. “If I don’t leave, am I supposed to rot with you here forever?” “Surviving on these pieces of trash nobody wants?” I let out a bitter laugh. The paintings I had poured my heart and soul into—the ones she used to praise—were now just “trash” to her. “Chloe, is that what you really think of me?” Chloe interrupted me impatiently. “Enough! If you won’t leave, I’ll go by myself!” “I must have been blind to choose you in the first place.” Even though I was furious, I still worried about her. I ran after her. Chloe rushed onto the street, completely ignoring a car running a red light. The car was about to hit her. Without thinking, I lunged forward to push her out of the way. But we were both struck by the car and sent flying. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn. Immediately, Chloe broke up with me and accepted Zack’s confession. She started posting her daily life with Zack on TikTok, quickly becoming a popular influencer. As for me, I kept a stable job while continuing to hone my painting skills. Being an artist was my dream. I respected Chloe’s choice. But no matter what, I would never regret mine.

On my way back to the lounge, my wife called me on FaceTime. “Martha told me you fell! Oh my god, why didn’t you just drive? Is it bad? Do you need to go to the hospital, babe? I’m coming to get you right now.” Hearing the sheer panic and worry in her voice, I could tell she wanted to fly to my side this very second. A warm smile spread across my face. “I’m totally fine. If you’re coming, can you just bring me a clean change of clothes?” I looked down at my torn sleeves and the stubborn mud stains. “I don’t want to look like a hobo for our date later.” “On it! I’m getting in the car right now.” After hanging up, I couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. One of my classmates, noticing I had been gone for a while, came out to find me. He waved me over. “Liam, the food is served! Get in here!” “I heard Zack brought some high-end wine and cigars back from his trip abroad.” “Liam, Chloe, stop chatting and get inside!” The moment I walked in, Zack offered me a cigar. “Want one, Liam?” I glanced around. Everyone was puffing on smoke, praising Zack’s generosity. Even our old teacher, whose hands used to hold chalk, was now holding a cigar and singing Zack’s praises. I shook my head and politely declined. “I don’t smoke, thanks.” I never touched tobacco, and besides, my wife hated the smell of smoke. I set the cigar aside, intending to just let it go. But Zack wouldn’t let me off the hook. “Liam, what’s the matter? You won’t even give me this face?” He was clearly trying to embarrass me. I saw the annoyance in his eyes, but I didn’t care to engage. I just kept looking at the SnapChat texts from my wife. Seeing me glued to my phone, some classmates started snickering. “Maybe Liam’s never seen a real cigar before and doesn’t know what to say.” “Forget smoking it, he probably hasn’t even seen one in person, haha!” “Liam, didn’t you use to be so high and mighty?” “Yeah, didn’t he win a bunch of art awards back in school? Why hasn’t he achieved anything major?” They took jabs at me to suck up to Zack. Zack chuckled. “Come on, guys. Maybe my cigars aren’t good enough for Liam. My driver is on his way with some business contracts, so I’ll have him bring a few more bottles of fine wine. Let’s just have a good time tonight.” His words sounded polite, but his eyes were full of arrogance and disdain. My phone buzzed again. Unwilling to deal with these people, I walked out to text my wife back on SnapChat. She said she was stuck in rush-hour traffic and the rain was getting worse, so she would be a bit late. I told her to take her time and drive safely. My clothes didn’t matter; her safety was my priority. Just as I sent the text, I heard Chloe’s voice. “Liam, do you have a girlfriend now?” I turned to face her. The tenderness in my eyes vanished, replaced by cold indifference. “What I do is none of your business, Chloe.” I tried to walk past her, but she stepped in my way. “Who is she?” “Does she know that the once high-and-mighty Liam was once a pathetic simp who gave up his art and his life for another woman? And look at you now—you’re even too intimidated to accept a cigar.” Ah, so she was watching earlier. “Didn’t you always dream of becoming a famous artist? Why hasn’t anything happened after all these years? You’re still the same, Liam—spineless yet full of pride.” “I’m so glad the universe gave me a second chance to dump a loser who will never amount to anything.” “Oh, by the way, Zack and I are getting engaged.” She smirked. “If you had just listened to me back then and moved to the big city, we might have been married with kids by now.” “But look at you. Your horizon is so narrow.” “Living day to day with zero ambition. Pathetic.” I was getting annoyed. “Congratulations.” Chloe’s smile froze. “What?” “Congratulations on marrying Zack. But since you’re getting married, you really shouldn’t be snooping into my love life. It wouldn’t look good if your fiancé misunderstood.” “Liam, you—” Chloe was furious, her face turning red. I honestly didn’t get why she was so mad. Even if we had different values, we were married in our past life. I genuinely wished her well. She glared at me, stamped her heel, and stormed off. “Mind your own business!” I frowned, thoroughly confused. She was acting completely irrational. I shouldn’t have wasted my breath on her. I stood in the hallway for a bit to clear my head before returning to the private dining room. But the moment I walked in, everyone stared at me in silence. I was confused. Someone looked like they wanted to say something, but Zack, sitting at the head of the table, spoke first. “Forget it. It’s just a contract. It’s torn, but it’s fine. No big deal.”

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When my girlfriend and I were reborn back to our college graduation day, we both made a silent, mutual choice to part ways. She chose to chase her dreams in the big city, New York, while I stayed behind to take over my family’s struggling local machine workshop. Five years later. She had became the hottest fashion designer in the country, newly engaged to the billionaire heir of the Sterling empire. Meanwhile, I was still getting my hands greasy, working the assembly line at the workshop. When we met again. She sat in the passenger seat of a luxury Maybach, looking down at me with pure mockery. “Ethan, if you get down on your knees and beg, I might just give you a ride.” Later, when the heiress of the Brooks Group leaned in to kiss me under the starlight. Chloe’s eyes welled with tears as she grabbed my sleeve: “Ethan, didn’t you say I was the only one you wanted to marry?” Chloe Thorne actually showed up at our college reunion. She was now a wildly successful designer, pulling in seven figures a year. The moment she walked in, the crowd swarmed her, drowning her in compliments. “Oh my god, Chloe! It is so hard to get a hold of you these days!” “I heard the new design wing at our alma mater was donated under your name. That’s insane! You really are the ultimate IT-girl.” “Right? And now you’re with Julian Sterling. You two are literally the definition of a power couple.” Chloe smiled proudly, casually flaunting the massive ten-carat diamond ring on her finger. “Julian and I are officially engaged.” A chorus of gasps and envious sighs erupted. Everyone raised their glasses to toast her success. But inevitably, someone just had to bring me up. “So… do you still keep in touch with Ethan Vance?” Chloe’s smile froze. She let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Ethan? Please. I dumped him ages ago.” Sensing the sudden drop in temperature, the others quickly changed the subject. Just then, I pushed the door open. I brushed a few stray raindrops from my hair and walked in. A sharp-eyed classmate recognized me instantly. “Ethan! The legend has arrived!” “Man, I’ve missed you! We live in the same city and you still haven’t grabbed a beer with me.” “Whoa, what happened to you? You’re soaking wet.” I offered a polite smile and nodded to a few people. As I looked up, my eyes briefly met Chloe’s. She was sitting gracefully at the head of the table, wearing a perfectly tailored haute couture blazer and draped in expensive jewelry. Beside her sat Julian Sterling, looking sharp in his custom-made suit. They looked like royalty. And me? My jeans were splattered with muddy water. I looked like a total mess. But I didn’t care. I just pulled back my sleeves, gave her a casual nod, and turned to the others. “The rain caught me off guard. Sorry for looking like a drowned rat, guys.” Actually, I had an umbrella. But earlier, Julian’s car had intentionally sped past me, splashing a wave of muddy water all over my pants. The impact had broken my umbrella, too. But I wasn’t going to whine about it. Hearing my explanation, the looks in my former classmates’ eyes turned cold and distant. They probably thought I couldn’t even afford a decent car. Well, that’s college reunions for you—everyone kisses up to the rich and steps on the poor. I didn’t feel like explaining myself. Ignoring Chloe’s condescending stare, I started chatting with some of my old friends. “Hey, did you hear? Olivia Brooks is supposed to show up tonight. She was literally the goddess of our class!” “No kidding. She was smart, incredibly rich, and drop-dead gorgeous. I heard she took over her family’s conglomerate recently! She actually donated the other two buildings on campus.” They got more and more excited. I felt like an outsider standing there. My damp clothes were sticking to my skin, making me uncomfortable. I excused myself and walked out of the private room. I spoke with the restaurant manager, borrowed a clean change of clothes, and went into the restroom. When I came out, Chloe was standing right by the door. I paused, thinking she was waiting for someone, and tried to walk past her. But she spoke up. “How has it been five years, and you’re still like this? You don’t even have a car.” “Are you still doing cheap manual labor in that pathetic little workshop of yours? You really have no ambition, do you?” “Do you regret it, Ethan? If you hadn’t been so stubborn, the one standing next to me right now would be you.” I stopped, looked at her, and smiled. “I don’t regret a thing, Chloe.” Chloe gritted her teeth. “You lazy loser. You deserve to rot in that workshop forever.” She spun on her heels, her stilettos clicking sharply against the marble floor. But as she reached the corner, she stopped and glared back at me. “You’re just like before. Stubborn and too proud to admit you failed. I can’t wait to see the day you can’t survive anymore and come begging me on your knees.” “Just so you know, I won’t help you.” “Because this is your karma for being lazy and refusing to grow up.”

Karma? I let out a self-deprecating laugh. In our past life, Chloe and I actually got married after graduation. Our relationship was great at first. We had a cozy home and a quiet life. But at a college reunion, she found out that a classmate she used to look down on had made it big in the design industry, earning millions. That ruined her peace. She told me she was too talented to waste away in a small town. She wanted to move to the big city. She said she couldn’t stand the boring, domestic life of chores and groceries. She believed only the big city could give her the stage she deserved. I tried to reason with her. “Your classmate isn’t even as talented as you, and she made millions. If I go into design, I’ll do way better,” she had argued. “If that’s what you want, I can pay for advanced design courses. You don’t have to leave everything behind to move to New York, right?” I didn’t want to let her go. Our life was actually pretty good. We had a house and a car. Sure, we weren’t super-rich, but we were comfortable. I was interning at my family’s workshop back then, getting ready to take it over from my parents. Even though it was hard work, I was happy. I wanted to build a better future for her. After all, we were married. But she just glared at me with red eyes. “You’re just a loser who doesn’t want me to succeed!” “What about our parents? They aren’t in good health. Are we supposed to drag them to New York too?” She shrugged coldly. “They have their pension. If worst comes to worst, just put them in a nursing home.” A nursing home?! She said it so casually. My parents had treated her like their own daughter. How could she say something so heartless? I tried to keep my temper, but she cut me off impatiently. “Ethan, if you won’t come with me, let’s get a divorce.” I was stunned. She wanted to divorce me just to chase some big-city dream? “Chloe, is the big city really that important to you? More important than us?” She sneered. “You’re pathetic. No wonder Julian Sterling always stepped on you in college.” “I must have been blind to marry you instead of him.” I laughed out of sheer anger. She didn’t care about “career growth.” This was what she truly felt deep down. “So you regret it? You regret choosing me over him because you think you missed out on a luxury lifestyle?” “Yes! I regret it! If I had chosen him, I’d be the one making millions right now!” “Instead, I’m stuck with you, watching you get your hands dirty in that stupid workshop!” She threw me one last look of disgust, grabbed her suitcase, and stormed out. I was worried, so I ran after her. But as we crossed the street, a speeding truck came hurtling toward her. My instinct took over, and I lunged to push her out of the way. But the truck was going too fast. We were both hit. When I woke up in the hospital, we had both been reborn. We didn’t say a word about it. We both acted like the past life never happened. She immediately accepted Julian’s confession and moved to New York with him. And I stayed behind to take over my parents’ workshop. Even though my reasons for staying had changed, my mindset hadn’t. Since I made this choice, I wouldn’t regret it. I believed that as long as I worked hard, I could build my own empire. On my way back to the private dining room, my phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime call from my wife. “Why didn’t you let the driver drop you off? It’s pouring outside. You must be soaked. Go to the office and change your clothes. I’m almost there.”

Hearing her warm, caring voice made my heart melt. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you. Drive safe.” “What are you doing out here?” An old classmate walked up and slapped me on the shoulder, pulling me back toward the room. “Everyone’s inside eating. Why are you standing out here alone?” The moment I walked in, Julian Sterling walked over. “Hey, Ethan. Try these Gillardeau oysters. I had them flown in from France. They’re about a hundred bucks a pop.” I took a small bite and set it down. I didn’t care for seafood, and my wife was highly allergic, so I rarely touched it. But Julian wouldn’t let it go. He wanted to use the oysters to make a point. Technically, he was my junior in college, yet he talked down to me like I was his assistant. He clearly wanted to humiliate me. A few classmates immediately chimed in to please him. “Ethan probably has never tasted anything this expensive. He doesn’t know the difference.” “Seriously. If Julian hadn’t hosted this, you wouldn’t even be able to step foot inside The Grand Riviera. Just take this opportunity to see how the other half lives, man.” “It’s a waste to feed luxury food to someone like him anyway.” They were practically screaming that I didn’t belong here. Julian chuckled and took a sip of his wine. “Come on, guys. You’re making me look like the bad guy. I just wanted to share some good food with Ethan. I actually brought a bunch of cases. I’ll have the staff bring some more out for everyone.” But his smug smile was a direct provocation. I couldn’t stand the fake atmosphere anymore, so I walked back out to the hallway. My phone vibrated with a text on Snapchat. It was my wife. *Olivia: Traffic is terrible, babe. I’m going to be a little late.* *Ethan: It’s fine. Drive safe!* As soon as I locked my phone, Chloe appeared in front of me again, looking down her nose at me. “Look at you. It’s honestly sad. You can’t even appreciate a decent oyster.” So she had been watching. “Julian and I are engaged now. We’re planning the wedding.” “If you hadn’t been so stubborn and came to New York with me, we’d probably have kids by now.” She gently stroked the giant diamond on her finger. “But sadly, you didn’t just miss out on success. You missed out on me.” I looked at her calmly. “Then let me be the first to congratulate you.” Chloe’s expression tightened. “What do you mean by that?” “I’m congratulating you on marrying Julian. You finally get to live your dream life without worrying about the boring stuff.” “Is that all you have to say?” “Yes.” Her face flushed with anger. She stomped her heel and glared at me. “I hope you mean that!” Without waiting for my reply, she turned and stormed off. What a drama queen. I shook my head and decided to go back. On my way, the hotel manager spotted me and rushed over to greet me. I waved him off and whispered a few instructions, telling him not to expose my identity yet. But when I walked back into the private room, everyone was staring at me with weird, hostile expressions. I frowned, confused. Then I heard Julian speak up. “It’s fine, guys. It’s just a few cases of oysters. If they’re ruined, they’re ruined.” It turned out Julian had ordered a bunch of premium seafood and kept it in the storage room next door. Now, all of it was dumped on the floor, trampled and ruined. And since I was the only one who had been wandering around the hallway… Along with our earlier tension, everyone immediately assumed I did it out of spite. The manager had mentioned that someone had reserved the side room, but I didn’t know it was Julian’s stuff.

“Julian, you’re way too nice! If it were me, I’d make whoever did this pay!” “Just because he’s poor and bitter doesn’t mean he gets to destroy other people’s things. That’s just pathetic.” They kept throwing disgusted looks at me. I scoffed. “We’re all adults here. If you have something to say, say it to my face. Stop the passive-aggressive drama.” “You did it, and now you’re mad people are calling you out?” “Some people are just born with a loser mentality. They hate seeing others have nice things.” My face darkened, and I took a step toward the guy who spoke. He instinctively took two steps back. “What? You got caught, and now you want to fight?” “Fight you? You aren’t worth my time,” I sneered. Seeing the tension escalate, a few classmates stepped in to play peacemaker. “Alright, alright. Let’s not ruin the night. We’re here to have fun.” Julian put on a fake, generous smile. “We’re all old friends. It’s just some French oysters. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.” I looked at his hypocritical face and laughed coldly. “No, let’s make a big deal out of it. You’re throwing dirt on my name. Let’s call the manager and check the security cameras.” “I want to see who actually had the guts to trash your precious seafood.” “It’s just a few thousand bucks of oysters. You’re acting like it’s gold.” Julian’s smile vanished instantly. Other classmates started whispering. “Look at Ethan trying to act tough. He talks like a few thousand bucks is nothing to him.” “Did he brainwash himself into thinking he’s a millionaire? What does he normally eat, instant ramen?” “I saw him walking here earlier. He was running in the rain with a broken umbrella like a stray dog. Now he’s acting like a big shot?” They all burst into cruel laughter. Just then, Chloe walked back in. Her eyes were red. She looked like she had just been crying. Julian immediately rushed to her side and wrapped an arm around her. “Are you okay, babe?” The crowd cooed at how sweet he was. Chloe shook her head, looked at the tense atmosphere in the room, and asked what was going on. Julian gave me a smug look and said: “The Gillardeau oysters, the Almas caviar, and the lobsters I ordered… they were all trashed on the floor.” “Nobody left the room except Ethan. So…” He didn’t say it outright, but he was pointing the finger straight at me. As if I was the only one who went out. Didn’t Chloe leave too? I met Chloe’s gaze. She bit her lip and looked at me with disappointment. “Ethan, I know you’re jealous of Julian and me. But you shouldn’t have done this.” “Be a man and take responsibility. Don’t make me look down on you even more.” “You have a wife now, right? I assume you have some savings. You can afford to pay for this.” With just a few words, she declared me guilty. I was so angry I almost laughed out loud. “Exactly! Don’t be a coward, Ethan!” “You’re an embarrassment to our school.” Julian took the stage again, playing the hero. “Guys, please. I get where Ethan is coming from. He was the star of our campus back in the day. Now that he’s struggling, it’s natural he feels bitter.” Julian looked around the room, his eyes landing on me. “Ethan, if you just apologize to me in front of everyone, we can put this behind us. What do you say?”

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I was clearing out the bottom of our closet when I found a piece of lingerie hidden beneath the winter clothes. I picked it up. It was a skimpy, black lace bunny cosplay outfit, complete with a fluffy white tail at the back. Ever since my wife, Chloe, gave birth, she had always rejected my advances, claiming her body hadn’t fully recovered yet. She would never buy something this wild and provocative. I was about to call her to ask about it when my phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number. It was a photo. She was lying naked in the arms of her boss. I stared blankly at the explicit photo. The anger I was about to unleash instantly dissolved into a cold, dead silence. My heart felt completely numb. Yet, she was the one who ended up losing her temper. With tear-brimmed eyes, she yelled at me: “Do you not even care that I’m fooling around with another man anymore?!” ### 01 I was packing a few personal items to head to the hospital to look after Chloe’s father, Robert. While searching for some clean underwear, my hand caught on something else. I pulled out a black lace bunny outfit. The fluffy tail on the back was visibly worn and ruined. It felt like my entire world was collapsing. Ever since Chloe gave birth, we hadn’t slept in the same bed for almost a year and a half. Even back when our relationship was at its wildest, we had never used props like this. Clutching the skimpy piece of lace, the truth stared back at me in cold, hard reality: my wife was cheating on me. I pulled out my phone, a sudden fire burning in my chest. I wanted an explanation from Chloe. Right now. But the call rang for a few seconds before being abruptly hung up. I called again and again, but got the same result. Instead of picking up, she sent me a quick Snapchat message. — *I’m busy. Make it quick, don’t waste my time.* Robert had suffered a sudden stroke a month ago at home. I had been staying at the hospital, caring for him day and night. Chloe and I had agreed earlier today that she would bring some clean clothes to the hospital for me and visit her father. As his daughter, she hadn’t visited him once during his entire month-long hospitalization. It was getting ridiculous. She had promised she would come, but then texted me saying she had urgent work to finish at the office and could only make it after midnight. She told me to go home and get the clothes myself. I never expected to find such a “creative” surprise waiting for me. I was about to text her back to ask if she was even coming home tonight. Then, my phone dinged. A message from an unknown number popped up. I tapped it open, and my knees went weak. I almost fell to the floor. My heart felt like it was being ripped in two. It was an anonymous photo. The background was a messy bed in a hotel. Chloe’s boss had his arm wrapped tightly around her bare waist. They were in a position she and I had never tried. Staring at their faces, a cold chill ran down my spine. At that moment, Chloe successfully wiped out every single drop of love I had built up for her over the years. ### 02 I packed my things and went straight back to the hospital. Robert had always treated me like his own son. Sitting by his bedside, looking at his pale, aged face, I suddenly remembered when Chloe and I first got married. I had knelt before him, promising to cherish and love Chloe for the rest of my life. She, too, had promised to be faithful to me forever. We had made those vows in a beautiful church. But it didn’t take long for Chloe to forget them. She started working late every night, coming home smelling of expensive alcohol. Sometimes, there were even faint, unexplained red marks on her collarbone. When I asked her if she was falling out of love with me, or if she regretted our marriage, she would snap. She’d accuse me of not understanding her hard work, calling me insecure, clingy, and paranoid. “Time for the patient’s IV change,” a nurse said softly as she wheeled her cart in. I snapped out of my thoughts and stood up. I helped the nurse adjust Robert’s hospital gown. She smiled warmly at me. “You’re a good son. You’ve been here every day for over a month, haven’t you? What about your job?” I nodded with a faint smile. I was a freelance architectural designer. As long as I had my laptop and a quiet space, I could work from anywhere. I didn’t need to be tied to an office. “All done. Just make sure his arm doesn’t get wet.” “Thank you, nurse.” After she left, I wiped Robert down and changed his sheets. To pass the time, I chatted with him, sharing little stories about Chloe and me. I told him she missed him terribly and wanted to visit every day, but her new project at work was just too demanding. I told him that as soon as he woke up, she would be right here. I talked so much that my stomach started growling. When I looked at the clock, it was already 8:00 PM. I opened a food delivery app, but before I could order, my phone rang. It was Chloe. “Where are you?” she demanded, her voice dripping with irritation. I let out a bitter laugh. She had completely forgotten what we discussed yesterday. She didn’t even care that her own father was lying semi-conscious in a hospital bed. Of course. She was too busy enjoying her secret romance to care about either of us. “I’m at the hospital with your dad.” There was a long silence on the other end. After a few seconds, her tone softened slightly. “Oh… babe, I’m so sorry. Work has been absolutely crazy today. I’m on my way to the hospital now. Wait for me.” Thirty minutes later, Chloe walked into the room empty-handed. She frowned, refusing to step fully into the room, standing awkwardly near the door. “Come on in,” I said quietly, pouring her a cup of water. She waved her hand, rejecting it. She probably didn’t realize how much disgust was written all over her face, as if she was terrified of catching some hospital disease. “I really wanted to come earlier, but Julian said there was one last financial report to finish. It took hours.” “You have to understand, we’re not like you. We don’t have the luxury of sitting around all day worrying about trivial things.” In Chloe’s eyes, my staying at the hospital to care for her father was just “sitting around doing nothing.” Yet, throughout our marriage, I had never asked her for a single penny. I contributed to the household, and I was paying for all of Robert’s medical bills out of my own pocket. And she hadn’t even bothered to ask how her father was doing. She waved her hand in front of my face. “Hello? Space cadet?” When I didn’t answer, she frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” I shook my head. We had nothing left to say to each other. “Ethan! What is your problem? Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment now?” She suddenly snapped, knocking the cup of water out of my hand. “Say something! I swear I hate this dead-silent act of yours! It’s like talking to a brick wall every time I come home!” I used to be the guy who answered her every text within seconds. If she hadn’t shut me out cold so many times, would I have ended up like this? “What do you want me to say? I’m just tired, Chloe.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “You sit in a chair all day. How on earth can you be tired?” She looked completely done with the conversation. “Forget it. Talking to you is a waste of breath.” Silence fell over the room again, only to be broken by her phone ringing. I glanced down. Her screen lit up with the contact name: *My Husband* ❤️. But I was standing right in front of her. Noticing my gaze, Chloe quickly flipped her phone face down. “It’s… it’s not what you think,” she stammered, offering a weak, guilty explanation before I even asked. “It’s fine. I get it.” She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She seemed unsettled by my lack of reaction, as if she expected me to blow up. I lowered my head and went back to ordering food on my phone. Chloe stepped away to take the call. “Julian? Why are you calling at this hour? Is something wrong?” “Hey, Chloe. I just got a bottle of rare vintage red wine. I know your husband is into wine, and I was feeling a bit bored tonight. I’m actually right outside your apartment building. Mind if I come up for dinner?” Julian’s voice was smooth and polite through the speaker. Chloe looked at me, looking conflicted. I looked up and smiled calmly. “Tell him he’s welcome to join us. I’ll order some premium catering.” Chloe stared at me, completely stunned. It was the first time I had ever seen such shock on her face. I couldn’t blame her. In the past, I was incredibly possessive. Whenever she came home smelling of alcohol or Julian’s cologne, I would start a huge fight, begging her to keep her distance from him. And now, I was actively inviting her lover into our home. Old Ethan would have lost his mind. But when a heart dies, it doesn’t leave any ash. I knew this marriage was over. ### 03 I canceled the basic food delivery and ordered a premium catering service from *The Gilded Lily*, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. By the time we got back to the apartment, the dining table was already set with gourmet dishes. Chloe looked at the spread in surprise. “What is all this?” Julian smiled warmly. “I figured you’d be too tired to cook after a long day at the office, so I had *The Gilded Lily* cater this dinner.” *The Gilded Lily* was famous for its months-long reservation list and astronomical prices. For Julian to get them to deliver a full spread on short notice meant he had spent a fortune. But what he didn’t know was that I did all the cooking in this house. Chloe hadn’t touched a frying pan in years. I looked at the gourmet food, then at the simple grocery bag in my hand. Fine by me. Less work for me. “Please, sit down,” Julian said, gesturing to the seats with the easy confidence of a man who owned the place. I felt like a guest in my own home. I sat opposite Julian, studying him. He was dressed in a tailored designer suit. I knew he and Chloe had met at an art gallery. They had both bid on the same painting and ended up talking for hours. After that, they started going to exhibitions together. When Julian decided to launch his own consulting firm, Chloe resigned from her stable job without a second thought to help him build his business from scratch. She accompanied him to late-night dinners and client meetings. And she left her newlywed husband waiting alone in an empty house. I ate in silence, my face expressionless. Chloe reached under the table, tugging at my shirt, and whispered sharply in my ear, “Julian went to all this trouble for us. The least you could do is show some gratitude instead of sitting there with a miserable face.” “What do you want me to do? Throw myself into his arms?” My voice was ice-cold. Chloe’s face turned pale. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my lips, trying to coax me. It had been eighteen months since she last initiated any physical contact with me. And now, she was kissing me just to get me to behave in front of her lover. How pathetic. “If you behave tonight, I’ll give you a proper reward later…” She took my hand and pressed it against her chest, letting me feel her soft warmth through her thin blouse. In the past, I would have agreed to anything just for a touch of her affection. But now? I felt absolutely nothing. “I have to go back to the hospital to watch over your dad tonight,” I said, pulling my hand away. Chloe’s face went completely white. She pushed past me and walked back to the living room, putting on a fake smile. Watching her walk away, her hips swaying provocatively, I realized she really did think Julian was the better option. He was a successful CEO with millions in assets. I, on the other hand, was just a freelancer with no wealthy family background, no corporate title, and in her eyes, no future. “I hope the food is to your husband’s liking,” Julian said smoothly. I glanced at the dishes. They were mostly spicy, heavy foods—exactly what Chloe loved, but terrible for my sensitive stomach. For years, I had forced myself to eat what she liked just to keep her happy. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s not picky. A simple guy like him doesn’t get to eat Michelin-star food every day anyway,” Chloe said dismissively. “If it weren’t for you, Julian, he’d probably go his whole life without tasting food from *The Gilded Lily*.” She demeaned me in front of her lover without a single shred of hesitation. I just kept eating, keeping my head down. It wasn’t the first time she had insulted me, and it wouldn’t be the last. I didn’t care anymore. But my silence only made her angrier. Under the table, she kicked my leg. “Are you starving or something? Have some manners! Julian is our guest. Pour him some wine instead of just stuffing your face!” she muttered sharply. I ignored her and took another bite. I wasn’t her servant. I had spent five years treating her like a queen, and now she expected me to bow down to her side piece? In her dreams. Julian smiled, pretending to be the bigger man, and poured the wine himself. “It’s fine, Chloe. I actually brought this wine to celebrate. Chloe mentioned she bought a special outfit a few days ago that she thought you’d like, Ethan. I was curious, so I wanted to stop by.” “I’m thirty now, and I still don’t have a family of my own. Sometimes I really envy what you two have. Let me drink to that.” His words weren’t an apology. They were a blatant taunt. He knew about the highly intimate lingerie Chloe had bought. He was rubbing his affair right in my face. “Are you talking about the bunny outfit in our bedroom closet? The one with the ruined tail? It looked pretty cheap,” I said calmly. Chloe dropped her fork. It clattered loudly against her plate. “Ruined? It must have been crushed under the heavy blankets. It wasn’t cheap at all! I haven’t even had a chance to wear it yet!” She emphasized the last sentence, looking panicked. I let out a cold laugh. Now I understood why she had rushed home earlier. She must have realized I had gone through the closet. This dinner was just a staged show to cover their tracks. “Right. A waste of money if you don’t even get to use it. Why don’t you try it on now?” I asked, looking her dead in the eye. Chloe froze, completely caught off guard. “W-What are you talking about? Didn’t you say you have to go to the hospital? Besides, Julian is still here. Let’s talk about this later.” I smiled. “Why wait? It’s not like Julian hasn’t seen it already, right?”

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When Ethan and I went Instagram official, all my friends messaged me to ask if I was being scammed. Ethan was the most notorious playboy in our circle, constantly surrounded by women. But to everyone’s surprise, after he got with me, he stopped seeing other girls. He even replaced all his female assistants with men. Everyone said Ethan and I were true love. Until our fifth anniversary, when he lost a game of Truth or Dare with his friends. One of them asked him: “You’ve been with Chloe for five years. Are you actually in love with her?” He took a drag of his cigarette and casually replied: “Out of all the girls I’ve had, she’s the most obedient. She does whatever I tell her to do, and she’s been doing it for years.” So, he was only with me because I was submissive. I didn’t storm in and make a scene. Instead, I sent a text to his third side-chick. At 11 PM, Ethan finally called me. “Come pick me up at the lounge downtown. I had a few drinks, can’t drive.” In the past, if he called, I would drop everything to get him. But now, I waited until I was in the middle of my skincare routine to reply, “Just call an Uber.” Half an hour later, Ethan called again, his voice irritated. “Are you coming or what? I’ve been waiting forever.” I sighed, changed my clothes, and went out anyway. Twenty minutes later, I took a taxi to the lounge downtown. Just as I was about to push the door open, I heard a burst of laughter from inside, mixed with guys cheering. “Come on, Ethan! You lost the game, you gotta pay up! You promised to call your girl to pick you up. Don’t back out now!” “Yeah, man, you lost everything last round. Calling your girl is the least you can do!” Then came Ethan’s voice, sounding a bit drunk and arrogant. “What’s the rush? I already called her. She’ll be here. She always does whatever I say.” “Damn, she’s that obedient? Lend her to us sometime then?” “Screw off! But seriously, she’s super sweet. She never makes a scene, no matter what I do.” I froze outside the door. So that was it. It wasn’t because he was too drunk, or because of some emergency. He had just lost a game of Truth or Dare and used me as a prop to show off. With a blank expression, I pulled out my phone, found Sienna’s Snapchat, and sent her a message: “Ethan is wasted at the downtown lounge. Come pick him up.” Then I turned around and walked back to the cab. Once I got home, I finished my skincare and opened my closet to pack my bags. My phone buzzed a few times. It was Ethan on Snapchat: “Where are you? Why aren’t you here yet?” “Never mind, don’t come. Sienna happened to be passing by, she’s driving me home.” I didn’t reply. A moment later, he sent another one: “Are you seriously mad? It was just a game. Don’t be dramatic.” Still no reply from me. The last message had a softer tone: “Fine, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll bring you a gift.” Looking at the message, I found it hilarious. If he had coaxed me like this before, my heart would have melted. I would have thought he at least cared. But now, I just wondered if he was laughing at how gullible I was while typing those words. I put my phone on silent, rolled over, and closed my eyes.

The next morning, Ethan dragged his suitcase in, his face dark. “I was out all night, and you didn’t even send me a single text?” I stopped drinking my water and looked at him blankly. Ethan took off his jacket impatiently. “Stop drinking that. I’m starving. Make me something to eat.” “I was at the club all night and didn’t eat a thing.” He turned to go to the bathroom, but I said flatly, “I don’t have time. Order DoorDash.” Ethan stopped in his tracks, knitting his brows, glaring at me with displeasure. “Chloe, have you had enough? I waited for you so long last night, and you didn’t even show up. You made me look like an idiot in front of my friends. Was it really that big of a deal?” I put down my glass and took it to the kitchen, having no desire to argue. His expression shifted, and he suddenly took a step forward, grabbing my wrist. “Alright, stop being mad. I’ll take you out for French food tonight. Haven’t you been dying to go to that fancy place?” His voice was low, carrying a commanding tone, as if he knew exactly how to manipulate my feelings. I pulled my hand back, rubbing my wrist subtly, and went to the door to put on my shoes. Ethan stared at me in disbelief. “Chloe, what the hell? Are you disgusted by me?” “No, I just don’t have an appetite.” Just as Ethan was about to lose his temper, I glanced at my phone. “I’m meeting a friend. I have to go.” “I’ll drive you.” “No need. I called an Uber.” Ethan’s face darkened. “I said I’ll drive you.” “Really, no need.” I opened the front door. “You just got back. Get some rest.” Ethan glared at me in silence. Without waiting for his response, I walked out. A loud crash echoed behind me. He had kicked the cabinet by the door.

I got into the car and gave the driver my office address. Just as the car pulled out of the neighborhood, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Sienna. No words, just a picture. It was a photo of a man sleeping peacefully on his side. In the background was a hotel’s floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city lights at night. I locked my phone, leaned back against the seat, and closed my eyes. A moment later, it buzzed again. Still Sienna: “Hey Chloe, Ethan said he slept great last night. He told me to thank you for letting him go.” I didn’t reply. She sent another one: “Oh, by the way, he said he’s coming over again tomorrow night. You don’t mind, right?” Still ignoring her, I deleted the chat history. As the car moved forward, the city streets blurred past the window. I thought about all the women who had come and gone around Ethan over the past five years. The first was his secretary at the firm. I caught them kissing in the breakroom. He claimed she initiated it and he was too drunk to react. I believed him. The second was a client he met on a business trip. She sent him her hotel room number late at night. He said it was just a joke and told me not to overreact. I believed him too. Now, it was the third one, Sienna. Every time he got caught, he would apologize, promise to change, buy me gifts, and behave for a while. But it wouldn’t be long before the next one appeared. I used to think he genuinely loved me and was just easily tempted. I thought that if I was good enough, patient enough, he would eventually settle down. But now, I finally understood. He wasn’t easily tempted; he was just a cheater at heart. Every “you’re the only one I love” was a lie to me, and to himself. I opened my eyes, looking out the window, feeling completely cold inside. About a mile from the office, I asked the driver to pull over. I wanted to walk the rest of the way. I was going to the office to resign. I had chosen to work in New York only because of Ethan. For him, I had rejected my family’s trust fund, had a massive fight with my parents, and cut off contact with them for a long time. I sat by the sidewalk for a long while before finally pulling out my phone and dialing a number I hadn’t called in years. The phone rang for a long time before my mom answered, her voice hesitant. “Chloe?” I took a deep breath. “Mom, I’ve thought it over. That marriage proposal you and Dad talked about… I accept.” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and then my mom’s voice cracked with emotion. “Good, good. I’ll go tell your father right now.” I hung up, and tears finally spilled over. The love I had fought so hard for was nothing but a joke. I agreed to the arranged marriage and booked a flight back home to Seattle for the day after tomorrow. As for my relationship with Ethan… This was the end of the line.

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After seven years of long distance, I quit my job, packed my life into twelve boxes, and moved across the country to live with my boyfriend. Ryan Hayes was the most famous hockey player in Boston. His face filled arena screens, sports magazines, and the fantasies of thousands of women who wore his number across their chests. I had loved him before any of that. I entered our anniversary into the keypad three times. Wrong code. The door finally opened from the inside. My best friend stood there barefoot, wearing Ryan’s home jersey and nothing I could see beneath it. His name stretched across her back. His number ended high on her thighs. “Emma?” Chloe blinked, then smiled as though I had arrived early to a dinner party. “You’re here.” Behind her, the apartment looked lived in. A pair of silver pom-poms rested beside the entryway. Her Ice Crew jacket hung next to Ryan’s practice coat. On the console table sat a framed photo of them at the team’s charity gala—his arm around her waist, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. I had never seen the picture. Ryan came out of the bathroom with a pink towel knotted around his hips, his wet hair pushed back from his face. He stopped when he saw my suitcase. “Don’t block the hall,” he said. “Chloe’s been using the main bedroom. You can take the guest room tonight.” His voice was cold. His thoughts were not. *Ask why she’s wearing my jersey.* *Tell me this is our home.* *Get angry, Emma. Prove you still care.* Seven years ago, on the night Ryan left for his first development camp, I had discovered I could hear his thoughts. He had kissed me at the train station and told me not to cry. Inside his head, he had been begging me not to let him go. For years, those private words had been the excuse I used for everything he did in public. When I missed one of his calls, he invited Chloe to dinner. When I worked through a weekend, he let her stay over. When photos of women draped across him appeared online, he told me they were fans and thought, *You’re the only one I love.* I kept believing the version of him no one else could hear. Chloe leaned against the doorframe. “The old code was impossible to remember, so Ryan changed it.” “To what?” She smiled. “My birthday.” Ryan’s jaw tightened. *Say something.* *Tell me to change it back.* I looked past them. A lace bra hung over the back of a dining chair. Two wineglasses sat beside the sink. On the television, a paused clip showed Chloe performing with the Ice Crew during intermission while Ryan watched from the bench. I had resigned from a job I had fought six years to earn because Ryan said he was tired of loving me through a screen. I had come home to find another woman already living my life. Chloe reached for my suitcase. “Come in. We can talk.” I pulled it out of her hand. “No.” Ryan’s expression hardened. “Don’t start a scene.” For once, I didn’t. I set my key on the entry table, turned around, and pulled my suitcase toward the elevator. Behind me, Ryan laughed without humor. “Walk out now, and we’re done.” His thoughts crashed into me. *Don’t go.* *I only wanted you to fight for me.* *Turn around and I’ll make everything right.* The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside. *Emma, please.* I heard him. This time, I didn’t stop. As the doors closed, my phone rang. The screen showed the name of the executive who had spent months trying to recruit me to Northstar Sports’ Boston headquarters. “Emma,” Daniel Brooks said when I answered. “The senior campaign position is still open. Have you made a decision?” I wiped my face before the first tear could fall. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

I spent the night in an airport hotel because it was the only place I could book without thinking. At seven the next morning, the building manager called. “Ms. Carter, several large boxes addressed to you were left outside the service entrance. Residents have complained. Could you arrange pickup?” Those boxes were everything I owned. I had shipped them ahead because I had not planned to leave Boston again. Clothes, books, work files, my grandmother’s watch, and the stuffed wolf Ryan had won for me at a minor-league carnival before anyone knew his name. By the time I reached the apartment building, rain was coming down hard enough to blur the street. The service entrance was empty. Chloe came around the corner in slippers, carrying an iced coffee. “You’re finally here,” she said. “Those boxes were blocking the door, so I moved them.” “Where?” She pointed toward the dumpsters. For a second, I could not understand the word. Then I ran. The cardboard had collapsed in the rain. My clothes lay in dirty water. Books I had carried through three cities had swollen open like dead birds. A framed photograph of my grandmother had cracked beneath a trash bag. I dropped to my knees and dug through everything. The stuffed wolf was near the bottom, one glass eye missing, its gray fur dark with rain. Ryan had given it to me the night he was cut from his first junior team. He had been eighteen, furious and humiliated, and I had spent the last money in my account traveling three hours just to sit beside him in a parking lot. He won the wolf for me at a rigged carnival game and said, “Keep it until I make the league.” I kept it long after he did. “Emma, what are you doing?” Ryan stood behind me beneath a black umbrella, one hand around Chloe’s shoulders. I rose slowly, holding the ruined toy against my chest. “Why did you throw away my things?” Chloe’s face crumpled with practiced hurt. “Ryan said you two were over. I thought you didn’t want them.” Ryan stepped in front of her. “They’re boxes of junk. Stop screaming at her.” His thoughts came sharp and confused. *Why did she send so much?* *Was she really planning to stay?* *She still has the wolf.* Out loud, he said, “You left. What did you expect?” “I expected the person I loved for seven years not to call my life garbage.” People had begun gathering beneath the awning. Someone recognized Ryan. Phones appeared. A young woman in a team beanie whispered, “Is that the girl from last night?” Another glanced at Chloe and frowned. “I thought Chloe was his girlfriend.” Chloe attended games in the family section. She appeared at charity events, team dinners, and holiday parties. She had been photographed leaving Ryan’s apartment so many times that the public had already decided what she was to him. I was the secret Ryan claimed he was protecting. Now I looked like the intruder. One fan lifted her phone closer. “Is she some stalker ex?” Ryan heard her. He did not correct her. His thoughts whispered, *Emma is not the other woman.* His arm stayed around Chloe. The rain ran down my face, cold enough to hurt. For seven years, I had taken overnight flights after work, slept in airports, and watched Ryan play from seats I bought myself because he said public attention would destroy my peace. Meanwhile, Chloe had been standing under the arena lights in his jersey, smiling like she belonged there. I looked directly at the phone recording me. “My name is Emma Carter,” I said. “Ryan and I were together for seven years.” Ryan’s head snapped toward me. Chloe went still. “I moved here because he asked me to,” I continued. “I arrived last night and found my best friend living in our bedroom.” The fan’s mouth fell open. Ryan seized my elbow. “Enough.” His grip was tight. *Don’t humiliate me in public.* *Come upstairs. I’ll explain.* I pulled free. “You had seven years to explain.” I bent down once more, searching for my grandmother’s watch. I found the velvet case, but it was empty. Chloe’s gaze slid away too quickly. My chest tightened. “Where is the watch?” “I don’t know,” she said. Ryan’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath. The video was already online. A headline appeared within minutes. **RYAN HAYES CONFRONTED BY ‘SECRET GIRLFRIEND’ OUTSIDE LUXURY CONDO** By the time I left the rain, strangers were debating whether I was lying. Ryan had hidden me so well that the truth sounded like obsession.

I woke in a room I barely recognized. The curtains were white. The bed smelled faintly of Chloe’s perfume. For one disorienting second, I thought I had been taken to a hospital. Then I saw Ryan’s watch on the bedside table and understood. The guest room. Chloe sat beside me with a damp cloth folded in her hands. “You fainted by the dumpsters. Ryan carried you upstairs.” I pushed myself upright. My head throbbed. “Where’s my phone?” “Charging.” “Give it to me.” She did not move. “I already explained everything to the neighbors,” she said. “I told them you aren’t a stalker.” “How generous.” Her eyes filled. “I said you’re an old friend who came to stay with us.” “With you.” She hesitated, then lifted her chin. “Ryan and me.” She said it softly, almost kindly, as if easing me toward an unavoidable truth. Years ago, Chloe had stood beside me in a university office when someone tried to steal my scholarship. She had called the girl a thief and held my hand while I filed a complaint. I had trusted her because she seemed to hate women who took what was not theirs. Apparently, she only hated competition. “I need my degree certificate and employment records,” I said. “I have an interview.” Her expression changed so quickly I almost missed it. “What interview?” “Where are my documents?” “I don’t know. Look around.” The main bedroom door stood open. Ryan’s clothes filled half the closet. Chloe’s Ice Crew uniforms hung beside his suits. On the dresser, her makeup surrounded a framed photograph of them kissing each other’s cheeks after a playoff win. “He sleeps in here?” I asked. “Only when he drinks too much.” I opened the bedside drawer. Three boxes of condoms sat inside. One had been opened. The room went silent around me. Chloe folded her arms. “Emma, don’t make that face. You and Ryan barely saw each other. People have needs.” The words struck harder because she said them without apology. My phone began ringing. The sound came from her pocket. I turned. Chloe took one step back. I crossed the room and pulled it from her hand. The call had ended. On the screen, Daniel Brooks had sent a message twelve minutes earlier. **Your interview begins at nine. Are you coming?** Beneath it was a reply from my account. **I’ve reconsidered. I am voluntarily withdrawing.** For one moment, all I could hear was blood rushing through my ears. “You answered for me.” Chloe shrugged. “You’re emotional. I was protecting you from making a decision you’d regret.” The bedroom door opened. Ryan walked in wearing team sweats, his jaw dark with stubble. He saw my face and stepped between us automatically. “What did you do to her?” I stared at him. Not *What happened?* Not *Emma, are you all right?* His first instinct was still to shield Chloe from me. “She declined my job offer from my phone.” Chloe’s voice trembled. “The executive is a man. He offered her a position, an apartment, and a relocation package. I thought it sounded inappropriate.” Ryan’s expression changed. Jealousy moved through his thoughts like fire. *An apartment?* *What does that man want from her?* He looked at me with contempt he had not earned. “You quit your job to come here, and one night later you’re running to another man for a place to live?” “It is a corporate housing benefit.” “Of course it is.” His thoughts pleaded, *Tell me you only came for me.* His mouth said, “How much are you planning to sell yourself for?” The room went still. Chloe lowered her eyes to hide the satisfaction in them. I looked at the man I had once crossed five time zones to comfort after a loss. The man whose private fear had convinced me that cruelty was only love wearing armor. “I have thirty minutes to get to Northstar,” I said. I turned toward the door. Ryan caught my wrist. “No.” I looked down at his hand. “Let go.” “You’re not going anywhere until we settle this.” Behind him, Chloe said softly, “Ryan, maybe she wants you to be jealous.” His grip tightened. I could hear his heart inside my own head. *Choose me.* *Say you don’t want that job.* *Say I’m enough.* For the first time, I understood that Ryan did not want love. He wanted proof that I would keep abandoning myself for him.

The elevator was out of service. I took the stairs because the interview clock was running and I had nothing left to lose except the future Chloe had tried to erase. Ryan followed me into the stairwell. “Emma, stop.” I kept moving. “Daniel said I have twenty-seven minutes.” “You are not meeting him.” I turned on the landing. “You slept with my best friend.” His face changed. Chloe, two steps behind him, went pale. Ryan’s thoughts erupted. *It happened once.* *It meant nothing.* *I was angry because you missed the playoff game.* He did not say any of it aloud. That was the cruelty of hearing him: I knew exactly how little his excuses were worth. “You brought her into our bedroom,” I said. “You let the entire city believe she was your girlfriend. You watched people call me a stalker, and you said nothing.” “I was protecting you from the media.” “No. You were protecting your single-star image.” Chloe began to cry. “Emma, you’re twisting everything.” I laughed once, without humor. “You answered my phone and tried to destroy my job.” “I was scared that man would take advantage of you.” “You were scared I would leave.” Ryan stepped closer. “You already left.” “I came back.” “For one night.” “I came back for good.” The words landed between us. His hand loosened around my wrist, but he did not let go. *She gave up everything.* *She was really staying.* His face flickered with something almost like regret. Then Chloe whispered, “She is only saying that because she got caught meeting her boss.” Ryan’s expression shut again. That was all it took. One sentence from her could erase every truth from me. I yanked my wrist back. “Move.” He blocked the stairs. “Not until you tell me what Daniel Brooks offered you.” “A job I earned.” “An apartment.” “Company housing.” “And what does he get?” I stared at him. His thoughts begged, *Tell me no one else can have you.* His voice cut me open. “Did you spend seven years pretending to be loyal while waiting for a richer man to make an offer?” Something inside me went quiet. Not broken. Finished. I stepped around him. Ryan grabbed my arm again. Harder this time. “Emma, I said stop.” “You don’t own me.” His fingers tightened instinctively. I pulled. My heel caught the edge of the step. For one suspended second, I saw Ryan’s eyes widen. Then the stairwell turned sideways. My shoulder struck the railing. My ribs hit the concrete landing. The back of my head slammed against the wall. Pain exploded through me so violently that I could not breathe. Ryan froze above me. Chloe screamed. Blood slid warm behind my ear. I tried to move and could not. Ryan came down the stairs too fast, nearly falling himself. He dropped beside me, his hands hovering over my body. “Emma.” His voice was not cold anymore. Inside his head, panic tore through every wall. *Get up.* *Please get up.* *I didn’t mean it.* *I only wanted you to choose me.* I wanted to tell him that love was not supposed to feel like surviving a hostage situation. No sound came out. Somewhere far away, Chloe was calling emergency services. Ryan reached for my face. His fingers shook. *If you don’t love me, I would rather die.* The thought hit me the way it had a hundred times before. Once, it would have made me forgive him. Now I looked at his terrified face and felt nothing but exhaustion. He touched my cheek. And something changed.

Ryan jerked back as though I had burned him. His eyes locked on mine. “What did you say?” My mouth had not moved. I could barely draw air into my lungs. Each breath scraped against my ribs, shallow and useless. Somewhere above us, Chloe was speaking too quickly to emergency services, but Ryan did not seem to hear her. For seven years, his thoughts had belonged to me. Now, for the first time, mine had reached him. *You ruined every place I ever called home.* Ryan flinched. “No.” Chloe crouched behind him. “She didn’t say anything.” He ignored her. *You let her wear my life like one of your jerseys.* His lips parted. “Emma, stop.” I almost laughed. Even now, his first instinct was to command me. He leaned closer, his face stripped of every expression the cameras knew. There was no charming grin, no practiced arrogance, no cool detachment after a loss. Only fear. “You can hear me,” he whispered. “You know what I really feel.” His thoughts flooded me, frantic and bright. *I love you.* *I have always loved you.* *Chloe meant nothing.* That final thought carried its own betrayal. Not innocence. Admission. He had slept with her. He had known it would hurt me. He had done it because he wanted my pain to prove I still belonged to him. Images moved through my mind faster than I could stop them: the apartment code changed to Chloe’s birthday, my boxes collapsing in the rain, my degree beneath a greasy takeout container, the empty velvet case where my grandmother’s watch should have been. Ryan heard every image as if I had spoken it aloud. His face changed with each one. “I can explain.” *You have been explaining for seven years.* He recoiled again. Chloe stared at him. “Ryan, what is going on?” He looked at her then, and whatever she saw made her fall silent. Sirens rose somewhere below the building. I tried to move my hand. Pain flashed from my shoulder to my spine. Ryan reached for me. I thought of all the times those hands had pulled me close after his words pushed me away. All the times I had mistaken tenderness after cruelty for proof that the cruelty had not mattered. *Don’t touch me.* His hand stopped in midair. That was when I knew for certain. He could hear everything. Not the version of me who had kept forgiving him. Not the woman who crossed airports, missed sleep, and swallowed humiliation because a secret voice insisted he loved her. He could hear the woman he had finally created.

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After seven years away from my mate, I finally came home to Blackthorn Pack. I had quit my job at the border for Adrian Blackthorne. I thought I was coming back to our future. Instead,I stood outside the main house and typed in the door code three times. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. On the fourth try, the door opened from the inside. But the person standing behind it was not Adrian. It was my best friend, Lila Hart. She was wearing Adrian’s white shirt, the hem barely covering her thighs. His scent was all over her, cold cedar and Alpha dominance clinging to her skin. It was too intimate. Too obvious. Too humiliating. “Selena, you’re back?” She smiled like she belonged there. Like she was the woman of the house. “I had a fight with my roommate,” she said lightly. “So I’ve been staying with your fiance for a while.” For a while. As if my mate’s house were a spare bedroom she could borrow. At the sound of her voice, Adrian came out of the bathroom. A pale pink towel hung low around his waist. His hair was wet, water trailing down his shoulders. “Don’t block the doorway,” he said. His brows drew together as he looked at me. “Lila’s using the master bedroom. You can sleep in the guest room tonight.” He said it like it was normal. Like I was the guest. Then, through what was left of our mate bond, his thoughts slipped into my head. Soft. Panicked. Cowardly. [Selena, after being apart this long, did you fall for another Alpha?] [Say this is our home. Tell her she has no right to stay.] [Get angry. Fight me. Show me you still care.] He had always been like this. If I replied to a text late, he took Lila to the pack bar. If I missed one month with him, he let Lila sleep over at the main house. Before, I would have asked questions. I would have cried. I would have broken down exactly the way his thoughts wanted me to. But this time, I looked at the women’s underwear hanging on the balcony. The slippers outside the master bedroom that were not mine. The Alpha scent wrapped around Lila so thickly it nearly drowned out her own. And suddenly, I had nothing left to ask. I took one step back and grabbed my suitcase. A house that had room for three was never going to be my home. … Lila reached out and caught the handle of my suitcase. “Selena, come on. It’s just a changed password. Are you really mad?” She blinked at me, wearing innocence like a mask. “The old code was too complicated. I could never remember it, so Adrian changed it to my birthday.” Adrian gave a cold laugh. “She’s being dramatic. It’s a password. Why can’t I change it?” His face was full of impatience. But his thoughts grew more desperate by the second. [Say it. Say that date was the day we became mates.] [Tell me I wasn’t allowed to change it.] [Selena Vale, why aren’t you reacting?] I said nothing. Lila leaned against the doorframe and yawned. “Are you coming in or not? We’re going to bed.” I took the key with the Blackthorn wolf crest from my pocket and placed it by the door. Gently. Like I was putting down the last piece of us. “No.” “You two sleep.” Adrian went still. Then his face hardened. “If you’re not coming in, then get lost.” He slammed the door. The force of it made me stumble. My bag slipped off my shoulder, and a stack of old train tickets spilled across the floor. The one on top was from seven years ago. The day I was assigned to Silver Creek’s border division, Adrian took me to the station. The boarding announcement played three times before he finally let go of my hand. “Go, Selena,” he said. “Don’t look back.” He sounded so calm. But that was the first time I heard his thoughts. [Selena, I don’t want to let you go.] [But I can’t hold you back.] [I love you. Wait for me.] My hand froze over my ticket. My eyes burned. Then the tears came before I could stop them. For the next seven years, I took that five-hour train again and again. Even after patrols that ended past midnight, I would rush back to Blackthorn Pack just to see him. Until the time I handled two nights of border riots in a row, collapsed at the division office, and missed the train back. The moment I woke up in the infirmary, I called him. He answered on the seventh try. “I’m having dinner with Lila.” His voice was so cold he barely sounded like my mate. “Why are you crying? You were busy. Am I not allowed to have someone else keep me company?” “She’s your best friend, isn’t she? If she’s watching me for you, what are you worried about?” That night, Lila posted three updates. Pack bar. Shots. A street at three in the morning. And I spent the night alone in the infirmary, an IV in my arm and my phone silent beside me. My tears fell onto the train ticket. I tried to wipe them away. But the stains would not come off. The door opened again. Adrian stood inside. When he saw my tears, his expression softened a little. “If you can’t bear to leave, then get in here.” “How many days are you staying this time?” I did not tell him I had already resigned. There was no point. I had given up everything at the border because I wanted to end the distance between us and finally be with him. But he and Lila had already been living together. Lila came out of the bathroom with a towel and started drying his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. Adrian did not move away. He even lowered his head for her. His thoughts said he loved me. But his body had already learned to lean toward another woman. There was no space left for me in that house. Not in the bedroom. Not in his habits. Not in his life. I did not pick up the tickets. I turned and walked toward the elevator. Behind me, Adrian laughed coldly. “Selena, if you walk out today,we’re over.” I pressed the elevator button without looking back. His thoughts broke into panic. [Selena, don’t go.] [I only wanted to make you jealous.] [If you turn around, I’ll comfort you.] The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside. [Please. Don’t go.] I heard him. This time, I let him beg. And I did not stop. The doors closed inch by inch, cutting off his face and his voice inside my head. At that moment, my phone rang. On the other end was Cassian Wolfe, a high-ranking Alpha from the Northern Council. “Selena Vale,” he said. “The position at Council headquarters is still open for you.” “Have you made up your mind?” I wiped my tears and cleared my throat. “Cassian.” “I’ll report tomorrow.”

I spent the night at a small inn near the pack border. Early the next morning, the main house manager called and dragged me out of sleep. “Miss Vale, the large packages you sent are piled up at the entrance. Pack members have already complained. Please come handle them as soon as possible.” When I came back this time, I had never planned to leave again. I had packed seven years of my life and shipped it all back to Blackthorn Pack. Clothes. Documents. Old letters. And all the memories I thought I would carry into my future home. Now the boxes had arrived. Now they had arrived. And just like me, they had nowhere to go. I rushed back to the Blackthorne estate in the rain. There was nothing at the entrance. Lila was in slippers, about to head upstairs. “Selena, what took you so long?” She pointed toward the trash area behind the house. “Those boxes were blocking the door.” “Adrian said you two had already broken the mate bond. Your stuff was trash, so I threw it out for you.” My ears rang. I turned and ran to the back. Rain poured down hard. The cardboard boxes had gone soft. My clothes and documents were scattered everywhere, soaked in muddy water. I dropped to my knees and finally found the little wolf plush. It was swollen with rainwater. One eye had fallen off. It was the first gift Adrian had ever given me. The first proof I once had that he thought of me when I was not there. For seven years, whenever he could not come to the border to see me, that plush stayed with me. Last year, I was injured on border patrol and fractured my leg. Adrian had promised to come. Then Lila sprained her ankle during training. On the phone, he only said one rushed sentence. “I’ll come see you after she’s better.” I was in too much pain to sleep, so I held that little wolf until dawn. I hugged it to my chest and saw a broken high heel nearby. I had bought those shoes half a year ago. That day, someone deliberately deleted my supply proposal. I hid in the garden behind the division office and cried so hard I could barely breathe. Adrian’s phone would not connect. He called me back at dawn. “What’s wrong on your side now?” “Lila fought with her roommate. I just brought her back to the main house.” The next day, I went into the city and bought those heels. I told myself, Selena Vale, stand steady. If no one comes to take you home, walk home yourself. For seven years, I traveled between the border and Blackthorn Pack. I lived alone. I survived every breakdown alone. Those things had kept me going until today. Now they were all in the trash. “Lila Hart.” I held the soaked wolf plush tighter and looked up at her. “Who gave you the right to throw away my things?” Adrian’s voice came from behind me. “Selena, why are you yelling at her?” He stood in front of Lila with an umbrella, shielding her from the rain. “It’s a few boxes of junk,” he said. “So what if she threw them out?” Lila’s eyes reddened as she looked at me. “I thought you didn’t want them anymore.” Adrian looked at the mess on the ground, and his face darkened. His thoughts slammed into my head. [Why are there so many boxes?] [Wasn’t Selena only coming back for a few days?] [That little wolf… she still kept it?] His gaze landed on the plush in my arms. But the words that came out of his mouth were still full of disgust. “You broke the bond and still sent your stuff to my house.” “If your things aren’t trash, what are they?” Rain streamed down my face as I looked at him. “Adrian, my things are not trash.” “You are.” Pack members began gathering around us. Their whispers rose through the rain. “Isn’t that Alpha Adrian and Lila?” “Haven’t they been living together for half a year? I always see them patrolling together and going to the market.” Someone looked at me with open contempt. “Then who is she?” “An ex who got dumped?” “Or some outsider trying to come between the Alpha and his future Luna?” The part of my heart I thought had gone numb twisted hard. So they had been living together for six months. For six months, they bought groceries together, returned to the main house together, shared umbrellas, and stood under the pack’s gaze together. In everyone’s eyes, Lila looked more like his Luna than I ever had. And I, the woman who had waited seven years for him, had become the shameless outsider in their story.

Adrian’s face looked awful. But he did not explain. Lila tugged softly at his sleeve. “Adrian, let’s go upstairs.” After a few seconds of silence, he held the umbrella over her and led her into the house. I stood in the rain and watched them walk away. His thoughts grew fainter. [Selena isn’t an outsider.] [She’s the one I love most.] I stopped listening. The rain came down harder. I crouched beside the trash and dug through the ruined boxes, searching for the old pocket watch my grandmother had left me. It was the only thing she gave me before she died. She told me that even if no pack protected me, I had to remember where I came from. But I searched every box. I never found it. I had been in the rain too long. My vision suddenly went black. When I woke up, I was lying in the guest room of the main house. Lila sat beside the bed, her eyes red from crying, as if she were the one who had been humiliated in the rain. “Selena, you fainted.” “I asked Adrian to carry you up.” She tucked the blanket around me, her voice soft. “Don’t take what the pack members said to heart. I already explained it for you.” “I told them you weren’t an outsider or a homewrecker.” “We’re friends. You only came here because you wanted to move in with me.” “It’s just that the house belongs to Adrian, and he’s my mate now, so everyone misunderstood.” She sounded so sincere. Like she was really helping me. But I remembered our college days. Someone had stolen my need-based scholarship, and Lila came with me to confront the advisor. Back then, she had been angrier than I was. “I hate people who take what belongs to others and then act innocent.” Now she wore that same innocent face while calling my Adrian her mate. Lila used to look down on Adrian. Every time she mentioned him, she said his full name like an insult. At some point, she started calling him Adrian. Started wearing his coats. Started eating alone with him, patrolling with him, traveling with him. I had noticed her crossing lines. But she was my best friend. And Adrian always said I was overthinking. His thoughts told me again and again: [Selena, I only love you.] So I swallowed my discomfort. Again and again, I forced myself to believe him. But now, I did not want to pretend I was blind anymore. “Lila, stop acting.” I pushed myself up against the bed frame. “Where is my Council certificate?” I had to report to the Northern Council today. But the copies of my documents had been ruined in the rain. I had once treated this place like home, so I had left the originals here. Lila froze for half a second. “I don’t know. Look for it yourself.” I ignored her and got out of bed. The master bedroom was her room now. Several of Adrian’s shirts hung in the closet. My clothes were shoved into the farthest corner, wrinkled beyond recognition. Lila followed me and explained in a small voice. “Sometimes he gets drunk and sleeps in my room. That’s all.” I did not want to know what they had done here. I only wanted my certificate. But when I opened the nightstand drawer, there was no file folder. Only several opened boxes of condoms. One fewer than the last time I had come home. My fingers went stiff. I forced myself to look away. There were takeout containers on the small table by the bed. Lila seemed to remember something at last and gasped. “Selena, is this what you’re looking for?” She lifted the takeout box. My Council certificate was underneath it. The cover was smeared with oil. The silver Council seal had been stained dark with chili oil. Lila bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was eating in here last night. It was stiff, so I used it under the container.” I snatched it from her hands. When I opened the cover, the pages inside were soaked through too. Even the embossed seal smelled sharp and greasy. Heavy footsteps sounded at the door. Adrian strode in and stepped in front of Lila. “Selena, don’t be so ungrateful.” “Lila was kind enough to bring you back. It’s just a few pieces of paper. Did you really have to scare her?”

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My best friend finally wanted a wedding—the groom was my boyfriend of eight years. Maya and I were total opposites. She’d run from seven engagements in three years—the queen of commitment issues. Me? Eight years with Ethan, the most stable couple anyone knew. The girl most likely to get married next. Until tonight. Maya grabs my hands across the bar table, mascara running down her cheeks. “I think I’ve lost my mind. I actually want to get married. He makes me so happy, Chloe. I’ve never felt like this before.” I squeeze her fingers and smile. “Then do it. I’ll always support you.” She nods hard, pulls out her phone, and dials. A man’s voice comes through the speaker. Warm. Familiar. Too familiar. “Hey, dummy. Look up. I knew you’d get wasted, so I’ve been watching you from the table up front.” I almost smile. Out of habit. I turn with Maya to look. And I see him. Ethan. My boyfriend. The man I’ve loved for eight years. The man I was about to marry. He’s already walking toward us, eyes locked on Maya. The girl who swore she’d never settle down had already found her person. And my perfect love story was just me talking to myself. My wine glass slams onto the table. Ethan doesn’t flinch. He scoops Maya into his arms and says to me, calm as anything: “Let’s go home. I can explain.” Eight years. Maybe I should slap him. Maybe I should scream. But eight years—that’s a quarter of my life. How do you just rip that away? My eyes sting. I get in the car. The second Maya’s in the passenger seat, her phone connects to the Bluetooth. A perky female voice chirps through the speakers: *”Maya connected. Love songs ready, babe?”* I sit frozen in the backseat. This is the first time I’ve ever been in Ethan’s car. He always said I couldn’t ride in his car because he used it for work and didn’t want clients smelling perfume in it. Even when I promised not to wear any, he’d just laugh and say, “Babe, your perfume always sticks around.” But now the whole car reeks of Maya’s liquor and her rose perfume, and Ethan hasn’t even wrinkled his nose. Tears fall onto my hands before I can stop them. I can’t confront him. I’m terrified of the answer. Part of me wants to pretend tonight is just a bad dream. But dreams end. Maya mumbles, “Ethan…” and leans over to kiss him while he’s driving. He gently peels her hands off and murmurs, “Behave.” I can’t breathe. Ethan is a clean freak. He won’t let anyone touch him without hand sanitizer—not even me. I’ve been pushed away for trying to hold his hand without washing first. I look down at my own hands. I can still smell the rubbing alcohol I used before getting in. Mixed with the liquor fumes in this car, it makes me want to vomit. I crack the window. Fresh air. I need fresh air. Ethan hits the button and the window slides shut. He glances back at me, annoyed. “Maya just drank. The cold air could make her sick.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Wow. You actually know how to care about someone.” His jaw tightens. “Don’t be passive-aggressive. I said I’d explain.” Then it happens fast. Maya lunges for Ethan again, grabbing at his face. A car swerves to pass us on the right. Ethan yanks the wheel hard left—and the back of our car clips the other vehicle. The impact throws me sideways. Glass shatters. My head slams into the frame. Blood runs warm down my temple. But the pain in my skull is nothing compared to what I’m feeling. Ethan checks Maya first. Then he looks at me in the rearview. “Can you walk?” I stare at him. Blood dripping into my eye. He gets out, opens my door, and says: “Take Maya to the ER. Make sure she’s okay.” I touch the gash on my forehead. My fingers come back red. “Ethan. Are you blind?” My voice shakes. “Look at me. Look at my face. And you have the nerve to say that?” He stares at me, stunned. In eight years, I’ve never once talked back. His eyes go hard. “Don’t say things you’ll regret. Someone could be seriously hurt.” He shuts the door. I drag myself out. I help Maya to the curb. I flag down a cab. And the second we’re inside, Maya’s voice comes through—stone cold sober. “You saw it for yourself, Chloe.” I turn to look at her. Not a trace of drunkenness on her face. “So. Are you done standing in my way?” —

I stare at her. The streetlight falls across her face. She looks perfectly sober. No wobble. No slur. Nothing. “You faked it,” I say. “You were faking drunk this whole time.” Maya sighs, bored already. “Yeah.” “Do you even understand what you’ve done?” She gives me a tired, condescending look. “Chloe, stop being naive. I know exactly what I’m doing.” “Ethan’s young, rich, hot, and loyal. Who wouldn’t want him?” “You dated him for eight years and he never proposed. Doesn’t that tell you everything? He doesn’t love you.” The cab stops. “Ladies, we’re here.” I get out. My legs buckle. I grab the door to keep from falling. The ER entrance is bright and harsh. I look at Maya’s calm, unbothered face and force my voice steady. “You’re wrong, Maya.” “He’s not loyal.” “Eight years with me—and you stole him just like that. You think he won’t cheat on you too?” Maya smiles. Slow. Satisfied. “Chloe, you’re so childish.” She puts a hand on her stomach. “I’m pregnant. He’s not going anywhere.” My knees almost give out. My skin crawls where I touched her in the car. The nausea is instant. My hand moves before my brain catches up. I slap her across the face. Hard. “You’re disgusting.” The crack echoes off the hospital walls. Maya’s head snaps sideways. And then—tires screeching. A car slams to a stop at the curb. Ethan jumps out. He shoves me back so hard I stumble, then pulls Maya into his arms, cupping her reddened cheek with shaking hands. He takes one breath. Two. Then he turns to me with a look I know well. Not the look he gives his girlfriend of eight years. The look he gives a business rival he’s about to destroy. He points at the security camera above the hospital entrance. “Apologize. Now. Or I’m calling the police. You know I can make sure you spend a few nights in a cell.” I laugh. It sounds dead. “Fine. Let them take me. I could use the quiet.” Ethan’s voice drops. “And what about your mother?” My whole body goes still. “Don’t forget, Chloe. I’m the one paying her medical bills. If she finds out her daughter got arrested—” The air leaves my lungs. I look at him. His eyes are steady. Certain. He knows he’s won. I bite down so hard I taste blood. My hands shake at my sides. I bite back a sob. “Sorry,” I whisper. Maya sniffles against Ethan’s chest. “My face hurts so much…” Ethan doesn’t look away from me. “Slap yourself. Ten times.” I stare at him. “Fair is fair,” he says. “Eye for an eye.” I raise my hand. The first slap stings. Hard. I look at them. Wrapped around each other. They look at me like I’m the problem. I am the intruder. I’m already out. By the tenth slap, my face is numb. My palm is numb. Everything is numb. “Are we done?” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. Ethan nods. I walk into the hospital. Tears pour down my face. I wipe them but they keep coming. I tell myself: *Don’t cry. Don’t give them the satisfaction.* But another voice answers back: *You already are the joke.* I am the joke. Betrayed by the two people I trusted most in this world. And what—I’m supposed to just let them live happily ever after? Let them keep stepping on me? Let Ethan hold my mother’s life over my head forever? No. I pull out my phone and dial. Liam picks up on the second ring. His voice is lazy, amused. “Well, well. Chloe. What made you call me, Chloe? Finally dumping your boyfriend?” My voice comes out raw. Flat. Certain. “You want Ethan’s designs for next quarter? I’m the designer. I haven’t signed the licensing agreement. If you want them—they’re yours.” For a second, Liam says nothing. Then his voice turns serious. “What do you want in return?” “Get me and my mom out. And burn Ethan to the ground.” A pause. Then: “Consider it done.” —

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