My boyfriend became a zombie. The moment we saw each other again, he lunged at me viciously… and hammered the zombie right behind me into oblivion! He quickly hid his blood-stained hands behind his back, not wanting me to see. He just looked at me with those wide, puppy-dog eyes, like a kid caught doing something wrong. 2 My boyfriend, Liam, was my best friend since kindergarten. He was always obsessed with being clean, but right now, he was covered in dust and blood. His usually neat hair was a total mess, his glasses were gone, and his eyes… they were glowing with this freaky, unnatural red light. I slowly walked towards him. He just stood there, looking completely lost. The virus had taken over his mind, but somehow, it seemed to strip away his usual guard, showing the real him underneath. Normally, you could never tell what Liam was thinking, but right now, his embarrassment was written all over his face. He suddenly turned, and I knew he was about to run. I darted forward and grabbed his shirt. He still tried to pull away, but I snapped, “Liam!” Ever since we were kids, me using his full name meant I was seriously mad, and he’d always, always drop everything to try and make me feel better. Even as a zombie, that hadn’t changed. But this time, his apology was in his actions. He stopped trying to run. I remembered I had some wet wipes in my backpack. I pulled one out and started gently wiping the blood and grime off his face. Liam obediently closed his eyes, letting me clean him up. His face was clean, so I started on his hands. But he’d clearly been wandering outside for a while. Some of the dirt was just too caked on; it would need a real wash. So, I brought him home. 3 It sounds completely insane, I know. I actually brought a zombie home. But he was Liam. My Liam, who would never hurt me. First thing I did when we got inside was double-bolt the door. Luckily, the outbreak hit in the evening about a month ago, so most of the zombies in our apartment building were probably trapped inside their own places. Still, you always had to watch out for surprise attacks – Survival 101. Door secured, I dug out some old clothes Liam had left at my place and led him to the bathroom. Turns out, even though some part of him was still human, he’d forgotten basic life skills. The blank stare he gave the showerhead told me everything I needed to know. This was going to be up to me. By the time we were done, he was spotless and fresh, and I was soaked to the bone, my face probably beet red. But I was still incredibly happy. My food stash at home was running low. I’d planned to risk a trip to the corner store downstairs today, maybe scavenge something. Instead, I found Liam. It was more than I could have hoped for. After a terrifying day, and being absolutely starving, I slept like a rock. Sometime deep in the night, I had a nightmare. I dreamed a zombie was biting me. I jolted awake and realized it was Liam, his arms wrapped around my neck, gnawing on my skin. He hadn’t broken the skin, just sort of… grinding, but I could see him swallowing reflexively. “Leo,” I whispered, using his old nickname, my hand gently stroking his hair. “Are you trying to eat me?” “Rrrgh!” Hearing my voice, Liam shuddered violently, pushed me away, and scrambled out of the bedroom. “Leo!” I chased him into the spare room. He was huddled in the corner, his tall frame curled into a ball, ferociously biting his own hand. Skin tore, but not a single drop of blood fell. He was hungry, wasn’t he? Hurting himself like this just so he wouldn’t hurt me? My nose stung, and tears welled up. I rushed to the storage closet. I remembered a gag gift a friend gave me for my eighteenth birthday – one of those weird, Hannibal Lecter-style muzzles. It was supposed to be a joke, but now… I didn’t want to use something like this on Liam, I really didn’t. But I couldn’t think of any other way to stop him from hurting himself. I found it and hurried back to the spare room. Liam growled at me. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell me what he wanted, but his red eyes were filled with desperation and pain, begging me to stay away. I ignored it. Stubbornly, I walked closer and knelt in front of him. I carefully fitted the makeshift muzzle over his mouth. Liam reached out, his cold, grayish thumb trembling as it brushed the corner of my eye. That’s when I realized I was crying. I stayed in the room with Liam all night. As the sky turned a dim gray, I went out onto the balcony, my heart heavy as I looked out at the world. Everything had changed. Completely. Zombies roamed free, pushing humanity into smaller and smaller corners. Despair hung over the city like a shroud. The streets were stained with dried blood, littered with gruesome reminders of what people had become. It was horrifying. I glanced to my left and saw Mrs. Henderson, my neighbor, standing on her balcony in a white nightgown, just staring blankly at the ground below. I called out her name. She turned, and our eyes met. I wanted to say something encouraging, like we usually did, find some words of comfort. But before I could speak, she gave me a small, sad smile, climbed over the railing, and jumped. 4 A swarm of zombies instantly converged on her broken body below, tearing it apart. I could almost hear the sickening crunch and squelch of their teeth. Swallowing back nausea, I looked up at the sky. It wasn’t the first suicide I’d heard about. Not by a long shot. I knew Mrs. Henderson had reached her breaking point. Her husband went out for supplies last week and never came back. Three days ago, her only son left too. I’d overheard him promising her over and over that he’d return, saying he was fully geared up and would be fine. Then… nothing. Silence. “Rrrroargh!” Liam was growling in the spare room. I knew he was starving, but we didn’t have any meat left. I didn’t want to die by his hands, but I couldn’t let him leave either. I went back to him, adjusted the muzzle, and took his hand, just like I always used to. “Leo,” I said, trying to sound normal. “Let’s go find some food, okay? Can you try really, really hard not to… eat people?” I took Liam to the big supermarket downtown. Before leaving, I bundled myself up – layers of clothes, and then wrapped myself in thick layers of old newspaper and packing tape. Crude armor, but better than nothing. This was my third supply run. I hated going this far, but the small convenience store downstairs had been picked clean ages ago. The big supermarket was my only hope. When the virus first hit, a lot of people fled the city, heading for safer zones. But some, like me, were too scared to leave home, hunkered down, and missed the first wave of evacuations. Now, we were just trying to survive day by day. I wondered if any more rescue teams would ever come back for us. Liam followed me obediently, staying close like a loyal shadow. He didn’t attack me, didn’t wander off. When we encountered zombies, I used my modified fire axe to take them down – aiming for the head. But the closer we got to the supermarket, the more zombies there were. I was starting to get overwhelmed. Just as I was dealing with one in front of me, another lunged from the side, clamping its jaws onto my lower leg. I cried out, looking down. It was just the top half of a zombie, dragging its guts behind it, clawing its way up my pants. I reached for the boning knife I kept tucked in my belt, ready to plunge it into its skull. Before I could strike, its head snapped sideways with a sickening crack. I looked up into Liam’s expressionless face. Zombies couldn’t show much emotion, but somehow, I felt his worry radiating off him. “Leo, I’m okay! Look!” I stuck my leg out for him to see. “See? This newspaper armor actually works! I stuffed cotton padding inside too. It didn’t even break the skin.” “Come on,” I said, patting his cheek. “Let’s go shopping!” I led him straight down to the supermarket’s basement level, where they usually kept the meat storage. There was still plenty of food down there. I took a deep breath and removed the muzzle from his face. It was incredibly risky – a starving Liam could easily turn on me. But I trusted him. I believed he wouldn’t hurt me, just like how, even as a zombie, he’d instinctively protected me moments ago. Holding my breath, I held out a piece of raw pork towards his mouth, my eyes filled with hope. Liam hesitated for a long moment, then leaned forward and took a bite. His face remained blank. I couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but I saw his throat move as he swallowed. Relief washed over me, so strong I almost collapsed. I felt like I’d won the lottery. I offered him other things – raw beef, chicken. He ate them all. As long as it was raw meat, he seemed okay with it. I threw my arms around him, laughing and crying at the same time. His diet wasn’t limited to humans! There was hope! 5 Liam was different from the other zombies. Not just because he recognized me and could control his urge to attack me, but crucially, because he could eat raw meat. Other zombies didn’t seem to have either of these traits. My gut told me Liam’s uniqueness had to be kept secret. People don’t react well to anomalies, especially now. If anyone found out how different he was, they’d probably want to lock him up, study him… I’d seen enough movies and read enough books to know how that story goes. We grabbed as much meat and other supplies as we could carry and hurried back to the apartment building. As I reached our floor, I saw someone huddled by my neighbor’s door. He looked up sharply as I came up the stairs, then relaxed slightly when he saw it was me, slumping back against the wall. He was covered in dried blood and grime, looking like he’d just survived a major fight. I stopped, stunned. “Ethan…?” It was Mrs. Henderson’s son. “Sarah? Is my mom out? Why won’t she open the door?” My heart sank. Seeing his hopeful face, thinking about his mother’s desperate leap from the balcony… I didn’t know how to tell him. I remembered last year when he got into the state university. Just turned eighteen, so proud, his mom handing out little bags of candy at the building entrance, wanting everyone to share her joy. Now… this. God. Maybe he saw something in my face, because his expression started to change, hope draining away. “She went out, didn’t she…? Didn’t she? But I told her I’d come back! I promised her! Why… why didn’t she believe me…?” He started muttering to himself, pure panic taking over his eyes. “Your mom… she didn’t go out, Ethan…” His dull eyes flickered with a tiny spark. “I… I saw her this morning. She jumped from the balcony. She thought… she thought you weren’t coming back. I’m so sorry…” The words felt like stones in my mouth. Ethan froze. He stopped talking, just stared at the floor, his head bowed. I didn’t know what to say. Any words of comfort would sound hollow, useless. I thought he’d stay like that, lost in shock, but after a minute, he slowly stood up, picked up the makeshift weapon lying at his feet – looked like a sharpened pipe – and started walking towards the stairs, heading down. “Where are you going?” I called after him. His voice was raspy, broken. “Downstairs… to find my mom.

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Okay, so… my landlord kidnapped me. Yeah. Seriously. My boyfriend, Liam, was supposed to come with me to check out the apartment, but he got called away on a business trip last minute. The landlord saw I was just a college grad, all alone, and he started… well, he started getting grabby. Next thing I know, he’s locked me in his creepy basement. Like he actually thinks he can just keep me… 1. My eyelids felt heavy, like peeling tape off a wall. When I finally got them open, the scene in front of me hit me like a physical blow. My breath hitched. What the hell was I wearing? It was… trashy. Skimpy doesn’t even begin to cover it. It wasn’t really clothes. Just… scraps. Shreds of thin, ragged fabric draped over me, barely hiding anything important. I couldn’t stand looking. I squeezed my eyes shut again, heat flaring up my neck and cheeks. Pure, burning shame. I always dress pretty modestly, you know? Nothing flashy. I’d never, ever wear anything like… this. My hands automatically flew up to cover myself, but—clink. A cold, sharp sound. Metal. My wrists were chained. My stomach plummeted. Where am I? How did I get tied up here? My mind started racing backwards, trying to piece together how I ended up in this nightmare. My name’s Chloe. I just graduated a little while ago. Job hunting has been a total headache, and step one was finding my own place. Liam and I had planned to go apartment hunting together, but then his phone rang, and suddenly he had some “emergency” work thing he couldn’t miss. Just like that, he was gone. So there I was, standing alone in front of this apartment building, staring at this gross, yellowed wooden door. I got this really bad feeling. You hear those horror stories, right? Landlords preying on young women, college students especially. But we’d set up the viewing for today, and bailing last second felt rude, like it would tick the landlord off. He’d called me the day before, going on about how tight the rental market was because of graduation season, how places were getting snapped up instantly. If I didn’t commit fast, I’d lose it. So I’d locked it in, feeling pressured. And then, of course, Liam flakes out right when I need him. Still, that bad feeling wouldn’t go away. I quickly called my best friend, Maya, but it went straight to voicemail. Okay, Chloe, I told myself, trying to shake it off. You’re probably just being paranoid. What are the odds something bad actually happens? I took a deep breath, pushed the dread down, and knocked lightly on the door. 2 The door opened pretty fast, and this guy with a face full of stubble and a nasty scar popped out. His eyes were kinda spooky. He glanced outside first, like checking if anyone was around, then looked me up and down. The way he stared… it was like he wanted to eat me alive. Something felt really wrong. My feet were already backing away. I managed to get a little distance, running, but he caught up to me anyway. “Hey, I didn’t do anything. Why are you running?” He lunged, grabbed my arm hard, and kind of rubbed it a few times, this nasty smirk on his face. I frantically looked around. A few yards away, an older woman was walking towards us. Using all my strength, I yelled, “Mom!” In a crowd, yelling “Help!” might get ignored. But yell “Mom,” and almost every mother will turn her head. Sure enough, she looked over. She must have seen the scar-faced guy clamping his hand over my mouth and thought it looked weird, because she frowned and started walking our way. “What’s going on here?” she asked. The guy holding me didn’t miss a beat. “This is my wife,” he said smoothly, his hand still tight over my mouth. “She’s got some mental issues, doesn’t recognize me right now. Just having a little tantrum.” He sounded so practiced, like he’d done this a million times. How many girls had he trapped with this lie? I saw the woman’s expression shifting, starting to believe him, looking like she was about to walk away. I panicked. This might be my only chance. My brain raced, forcing myself to stay calm somehow. When his hand loosened just a tiny bit, I bit down hard on the palm covering my mouth. He yelped, snatching his hand back. “Shit! You bitch!” I grabbed onto the older woman’s purse strap with all my might. “Help me! I don’t know him, I really don’t! Please, call the police! Please…” He cut me off, grabbing me again. “How many times have you run off to the hospital? Can you stop making trouble for me?” I looked up at him, saw his eyes darting around as he tried to pull me away. I could only stare pleadingly at the older woman, praying she’d call 911. Then the guy pulled something out of his pocket – I couldn’t see what – and showed it to the woman. The look on her face changed instantly, and she practically ran away, leaving me behind. While his attention wasn’t on me for that second, I kicked him hard, right where it counts, and bolted, running back the way I came. I didn’t realize how dangerous that move was, how much it would provoke him. Later, I paid a heavy price for it. A sharp pain exploded in the back of my neck, and then… nothing. Everything went black as someone dragged me away. 3 Even with a million questions buzzing in my head, I forced myself to stay calm, trying not to attract the attention of whoever kidnapped me. I stayed quiet. That’s when I started really looking around. It was dark everywhere. A messy, dirty table held all sorts of chemical bottles I didn’t recognize. Various whips and handcuffs hung on the walls, along with different kinds of women’s underwear, just hanging there to dry. The dripping sound I’d barely noticed suddenly stopped. Then, slow footsteps approached from outside the door. Screeeape— There was a dragging sound, like something sharp being pulled across the floor. It echoed horribly in the quiet room. Fear tightened in my chest. When the door creaked open just a crack, I squeezed my eyes shut tight, pretending I was still out cold. Don’t see me… please don’t see me awake. I prayed silently, over and over. A cold draft brushed against my nearly naked skin, making me shiver involuntarily. Suddenly, I felt something wet near my ear, followed by a disgusting slurping sound. A rough hand landed on my chest. It slid down, fingers tracing over my stomach, stopping to rub circles on my lower belly. His other hand held something thin, like a needle, lightly scraping it across my sensitive skin. “Awake, are we?” His voice was deep, resonant. Normally, I’m a sucker for a good voice, but right now? Not interested. Did he know? Or was he just trying to trick me? I kept playing dead, not reacting. With my eyes closed, my other senses felt amplified. His hands didn’t stop. I felt him lightly hooking his fingernails along the inside of my thigh, exploring upwards, deeper. He didn’t make any sudden moves, just kept touching me. If he knew I was awake… I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to resist. After what felt like forever, he suddenly grabbed my leg, lifting it and hooking it over his hip. He just held it there. I had no idea what he was planning. Looking around the room again, at the disturbing décor, and remembering how he’d just been touching me without rushing… this kind of guy probably wanted me awake for whatever sick thing he had planned. Being moved like that made my leg twitch uncontrollably. That seemed to turn him on even more; his movements became rougher. But my thigh started shaking uncontrollably, trembling no matter how hard I tried to stop it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I cracked my eyes open just a slit. Staring down at me was the man with the deep scar across his face. It all came rushing back. It was him! The creepy landlord! He had this twisted, amused smile on his face. “Done playing possum?” And then, the sharp object pierced my skin. A jolt of pain shot through me. I felt a cool liquid slowly seeping into my body. A strange sense of calm washed over me, relaxing my mind and body. Was it drugs? I didn’t know… Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe the drug, but I felt dizzy, heavy… and then I passed out again.

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One second, I was floating on air, dreaming about inheriting millions and becoming a big shot CEO. The next second, my mother-in-law slapped a divorce agreement down in front of me. Great. Career taking off, huge inheritance… no husband! 01 Just a little while ago, a lawyer in a sharp suit showed up. He told me I was the granddaughter of some tycoon. The old man, on his deathbed, had made a will. All his shares in “Sterling Corp” were to go to his granddaughter. That’s me. On top of that, the old man left me ten million dollars! Ten. Million. Dollars!!! Bursting with joy, I headed home. The moment I opened the door, my mother-in-law, Carol, stormed over, her face like stone. Her voice dripped acid, “You don’t even have a job, what took you so long? God knows what you were messing around doing out there.” Before I could even snap back, she shoved a piece of paper at me. “Just sign it already. I’ve had enough of you.” ??? I took the paper. It was a divorce agreement. I skimmed it quickly. It demanded I leave with absolutely nothing! Not a penny! My heart plummeted, but rage started bubbling up fast. “Mom, what the hell is this?” Carol snorted. “It’s written right there in big letters, can’t you read? Mike wants a divorce.” I put the papers down. “Mom, is this your idea, or Mike’s? And why should I leave with nothing?” Her voice shot up. “Sarah, use your brain! You and Mike have been married for seven whole years, and still no kids! He’s our only son, the last one to carry the name. I’m his mother, I’ve waited seven years. I’ve been more than patient with you.” Seriously? It’s the 21st century, and she’s pulling this crap?! I wasn’t having it. “But I get checked every year! The doctor says I’m perfectly healthy. Mom, has it ever occurred to you that maybe… maybe Mike’s the one with the problem?” I’d actually tried suggesting Mike get checked before. Back then, Carol threw a fit, threatened to jump off the balcony, screamed I was slandering her precious son. Just like now, her eyes bulged like saucers, and she jabbed her finger towards my head, spitting venom. “Sarah Miller, there’s nothing wrong with my son! The problem is you, you orphan! You’re the useless one who can’t even give him a child!” “For seven years, you’ve been a parasite! Eating my son’s food, spending my son’s money! And now you want to split assets in a divorce? Have you no shame!” I almost laughed out loud, it was so ridiculous. When Mike and I first got married, my salary was only slightly less than his, maybe two grand difference. He was the one who said he didn’t like his wife ‘out working,’ wanted a home-cooked meal waiting for him. Plus, his dad was sick back then and needed care. He begged me to quit my job and be a stay-at-home wife. Ever since I became a homemaker, I lost my financial independence and had to swallow insults constantly, just to keep the peace. And now Carol throws this in my face, calling me a parasite?! I tried to argue more, but she grabbed a broom and literally swept me out the front door. I fumbled for my keys, tried to open the door, but she’d locked the deadbolt from inside! I could hear her shouting through the wood: “Bad luck!” “Jinx!” “Useless thing that can’t even have kids!” I wanted to pound on the door, scream my lungs out. But then I thought about the ten million dollars. I thought about Sterling Corp. I took a deep breath, forced down the anger, and walked downstairs to a coffee shop to cool off. Thinking about all these years… God, it felt so unfair! This house we lived in? I paid for a third of the down payment. But Carol insisted that since Mike paid the bigger chunk and handled the mortgage, the deed should only be in his name. Back then, I was so caught up in Mike’s supposed ‘sweetness’ that I actually agreed. After we got married, my father-in-law passed away pretty quickly. Carol’s temper got even worse. She knew I had no family to back me up, and my belly stayed flat year after year. She was always tearing me down, saying I was useless, just a freeloader eating their food. The worst part? After the wedding, Mike changed completely. He never stood up for me. Whatever his mom dished out, he just looked the other way. But if I ever dared to talk back, he’d immediately chew me out. “Mom’s old, can’t you just cut her some slack? What’s wrong with you? Always fighting with an old woman.” “My mom doesn’t mean any harm, she just has a sharp tongue. Let it go.” Every time I heard Mike’s ‘mama’s boy’ routine, it made my skin crawl. I felt completely numb. But still, I believed divorce wasn’t something to jump into lightly. I endured it. Because I was an orphan. I desperately craved a family. If swallowing my pride could keep the peace, then fine. But I never imagined that my constant giving-in would make them think they could walk all over me, treat me like an idiot, and try to screw me over completely. 2: Divorce Settlement I waited until the coffee shop was about to close. Finally, I saw Mike walking past the window. I quickly paid and hurried outside, calling his name. He didn’t even turn around. I had to jog to catch up, finally grabbing his arm as he waited for the elevator. He glanced over, saw it was me, and yanked his arm away like I was contagious. “What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, disgust all over his face. We’re married, and I can’t even hold his arm anymore? Silently, I followed him into the apartment. Before I could say a word, he beat me to it. “Did you sign the divorce papers Mom gave you?” His tone was casual, like asking if I’d eaten dinner. I just stood there, stunned. It took me a moment to find my voice. “Do you… do you even know what today is? Are you really doing this? Divorcing me?” “What day is it? Does divorce need a special occasion?” “Mike, don’t be such an asshole!” Today was our seventh wedding anniversary. And he wants a divorce?! “An asshole? Sarah, are you crazy? You can’t even have a kid, and you’re still leeching off us? Have some self-respect. I don’t want to repeat myself. Sign the damn papers now, or I’ll throw you out on the street immediately!” Mike yelled, his face tight with impatience. I felt heartbroken, but mostly just furious. “Mike, that’s not what you said when you married me! Why are you doing this now?” He looked completely fed up. “Why? Does there have to be a reason? I’m sick of you, okay? And I’m cheating on you. Happy now?” he spat out. “The other woman is gorgeous, stunning. And more importantly, she’s the General Manager at my company. I get in good with her, my future’s set!” “She’s nothing like a frumpy housewife like you. You can’t help my career at all, you just sit at home all day, looking sloppy. I must have been blind to ever marry someone like you!” He got angrier as he spoke, looking like he wanted to slap me. Seeing the disgust in his eyes felt like a knife twisting in my gut, over and over. Mike always was a calculating person, always looking out for number one. I finally got it. It was crystal clear now. He married me because he needed someone to take care of his sick father. How pathetic. And I actually held onto a sliver of hope. Hope that he loved me, that he wanted to give me a home! In that instant, everything clicked into place. Fine. Divorce! I’m about to be rich and powerful. Who needs a husband like him? Not bad at all. Taking a deep breath, I made up my mind. “Okay, divorce. Fine. But let’s settle the assets properly. We do this by the book.” Suddenly, Carol burst out from somewhere, standing right in front of me like a raging lioness, tearing into me. “You! You goddamn orphan! You shameless piece of trash!” “What right do you have to my son’s property? Pack your rags and get the hell out!” And then, she actually stormed into our bedroom, grabbed all my clothes, and threw them out into the hallway. She even spat on them and stomped on them for good measure. I just shook my head, refusing to engage with this unhinged, classless woman. I looked straight at Mike. “And you? What do you say? Same as your mother, want me to just get lost?!” Mike didn’t say anything. He just glanced at his mom. Ha. Typical Mike. As soon as his mommy speaks, he clams up. How did I put up with this spineless mama’s boy for seven years?! “Mike, I’m divorcing you. Say something!” I yelled, startling him. He shot me a nasty look. “My mom’s wishes are my wishes. Didn’t you hear her? Sarah Miller leaves with nothing. You came with nothing, you leave with nothing.” “Ever since we got married, you’ve just been lounging around, eating and drinking well. I should be asking you to pay me back for all your expenses over the years. I’m being generous here.” Mike even went into the bedroom and came back with a notebook. Inside, meticulously written down, was every single cent he claimed I’d spent of ‘his’ money. I was speechless. Literally speechless. What kind of freak show was this? Keeping a running tab on money spent on his own wife??? What about all the money I spent on them? All the time, the effort? “Are you sure you want me to leave with nothing? I’m asking you one last time,” I said, taking a deep breath to calm myself. Mike just cursed at me, told me I was nuts. “You better remember what you said today. Don’t regret it. Don’t come crawling back, begging me to let you off the hook.” With that, I gathered my things and walked out of that house. I gave him a chance. He didn’t take it. Standing on the street, holding the evidence I’d gathered of his affair, I clenched my fists.

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Nighttime, scrolling TikTok like usual. Some dude in a mesh top was dancing. Pretty good moves. Couldn’t see his face, and he looked kinda lean, but damn, the muscle definition was just right. Those abs peeking through the netting… chef’s kiss. I shot my shot right there in the comments: Damn boy, gotta run, but wow The second I hit send, the guy who was just pixels on my screen suddenly materialized right in front of me. 1. Dragging myself home after a long day, I flopped onto my bed, dead to the world, and started my ritual: scrolling through thirst traps. Look, do I know it’s basically softcore? Yeah. But hear me out. These guys are strangers. No one in real life is volunteering this view, but they are. They’re not asking for my money, not trying to scam me, just putting it all out there for a measly little heart icon. What’s wrong with that? It’s not just thirst traps; it’s public service. A modern form of salvation. And my personal savior? TikTok creator EQ. He blew up outta nowhere last month. Super aloof type, never likes comments, rarely engages. Sometimes doesn’t even bother with a caption, just drops pics. Today, he dropped a new video. First time doing video, actually. Him in that mesh top, moving like that… those muscles, the hint of abs under the fabric. Was this… targeted content? Aimed directly at me? I sighed. Modern loneliness, man. A tiny screen separating me from my internet husband. Couldn’t help myself. Zero filter mode activated. Usually, I’m the quiet, sweet girl at work. Online? Total degenerate. I typed: Damn boy, gotta run, but wow Comment sent. And BAM. The guy from my phone screen was standing in my bedroom. Still wearing the exact same mesh top from the video. My eyes traveled up… to a face that was cool, sharp, and annoyingly good-looking. Looked kinda familiar. Weird. Let me look again. Ethan Sterling? My boss? The guy who always wears perfect suits, looks like he’s contemplating tax law 24/7, and never cracks a smile? Yeah, okay, we were both thoroughly freaked out. Ethan went from confused, to more confused when he saw me, then shocked, bewildered, scared, and… blushing? In like five seconds, I saw more expressions on his face than I had in the entire year I’d worked for him. “Anna Miller?” The thirst trap— I mean, Ethan— finally spoke. “Mr. Sterling? What… what’s going on?” I instinctively grabbed a throw blanket off my chair and handed it to him. Couldn’t help it; if I kept looking, I was gonna get a nosebleed. He eyed the fuzzy pink blanket like it personally offended him, but then draped it over his shoulders anyway. Body betrays the face, huh? “What did you do? How did I suddenly end up in your apartment?” Credit where it’s due, the big boss composure kicked back in fast. Already analyzing the situation. “I didn’t do anything! Just scrolling TikTok, and… I saw your…” “And then?” He cut me off before the words “thirst trap video” could fully form. And then? Could I really say it? Is that something you say to your boss who is currently standing in your bedroom wearing a mesh top and a pink blanket? “Nothing.” Online Anna: Fearless warrior. Real-life Anna: Total coward. He clearly didn’t buy it. “Phone. Now.” He even gave me the look. The one that usually means my quarterly bonus is about to evaporate. Forget the bonus, I just stumbled onto my boss’s secret life. I could end up “disappeared.” Trembling, I unlocked my phone and handed it over. It was still open to his video. Damn, he really was popular. The video already had over a hundred thousand likes. And my comment? Boosted right up into the top three. Mortifying. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one mortified. Ethan’s expression didn’t change much, but his ears were turning bright red. The pink blanket really made them pop. Almost… cute? “So,” he said, his voice tight. “You commented one sentence, and I instantly appeared here?” 2 I nodded hesitantly. It sounded insane, I know. But it was the truth. He handed the phone back. “Comment again.” He then backed away into my tiny kitchen alcove and slid the glass door mostly shut. Okay… I sent a simple smiley face emoji. Nothing happened. Total silence. He walked back into the living room, looking deadly serious despite the pink blanket situation. Like he was chairing a board meeting about interdimensional travel. “What’s the variable here?” A lightbulb went off in my head. I spoke tentatively, already cringing, “The… content of the comment?” He nodded, gestured for me to try again, and retreated back to the kitchen. I thought carefully, typed something out, and hit send. Poof. He was right back in front of me. Neither of us saw how it happened. Ethan frowned. “What did you write this time?” “Uh…” My voice got smaller and smaller. “‘Pretty sure looking this good should be illegal… ” I practically mumbled the last part into the carpet. His mouth twitched. He looked like he wanted to say something, then stopped, sighed, and just said my name. “Anna.” “Yeah?” “Try again. Comment on someone else’s video,” he paused, then added, “Same type of content.” Leave it to the boss to think methodically. Control the variables. He was treating this like a science experiment. So, he sat down next to me on my couch, watching intently as I scrolled to find another thirst trap creator and typed: Pretty sure we’re soulmates based on… well, everything Before hitting send, I had a brief panic attack. What if I summoned another one? How would I explain that? Demonstrate the magic words again and summon a third? End up with a living room full of half-naked influencers? Honestly, sounds like a dream come true. Turns out, I worried for nothing. Sent the comment. Nothing happened. After a few more rounds of testing, Ethan and I reached a conclusion. If I post a thirsty, flirty, or generally inappropriate comment on Ethan Sterling’s secret thirst trap videos, he teleports directly to my location. We just sat there for a minute, silently processing this absolutely ridiculous information. Eventually, I called him an Uber and lent him one of my brother’s old sweatshirts (thank god he left some stuff here). Before leaving, Ethan fixed me with a glare. A serious, ‘I-run-a-company’ glare. “Anna Miller. If a third person ever finds out about this, you’re finished.” Message received. I like my job, thanks. Besides, who would even believe this story? The internet, man. What a weird, magical place. Nobody knows how degenerate I am online, just like nobody knows the cool, aloof CEO is secretly a TikTok thirst trap star. 3 I got to work super early the next day. Couldn’t sleep. Last night’s events were… a lot. Ethan didn’t look like he’d slept much either. Dark circles under his eyes. Kinda matched the color of that mesh top… And then, during the damn company-wide morning meeting, I snorted out loud with laughter. My coworkers tried to hide their smirks, glancing between me and the head of the table, clearly enjoying the drama. I risked a peek at Ethan. He was looking down, fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished wood. He looked like he hadn’t heard, but I recognized that tapping. It was a warning. Sure enough, after the meeting, “Anna, stay behind.” I immediately went into damage control. “Mr. Sterling, my lips are sealed! Seriously, Fort Knox has nothing on me. I won’t say a word.” He just gave me a look, then handed me a garment bag. “Your brother’s sweatshirt. Dry cleaned. Thank you.” I took the bag, trying to smile normally. Leave it to him to return a borrowed hoodie like he was closing a million-dollar deal. Just as I was marveling at his sheer Ethan-ness, he dropped the bomb. “Business trip next week. You’re coming with me.” “Why?” I blurted out. “Because I can’t risk you randomly commenting while I’m out of state and teleporting me into a client meeting.” Seriously? Like I have nothing better to do than randomly summon my boss? I thought it, but no way was I saying that out loud. Ten points from Gryffindor and probably my job. So, yeah. I ended up on the business trip with him and his EA, Mark. Destination: neighboring state. I figured it would be boring as hell, but then I ran into someone I knew. Leo Vance. Long-term company partner, also happens to be Ethan’s best friend. Leo’s actually a pretty fun guy. Last time I saw him was months ago. Didn’t think he’d remember me, just a random girl from the marketing department. But the moment he saw me, he grinned. “Anna! Good to see you!” I was surprised. “Mr. Vance, you remember me?” His grin widened. “Of course! How could I forget? Besides, I owe you big time. If it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve won that last bet against Ethan.” I froze. Dude. You can’t just say stuff like that! What bet? Mark, the EA, suddenly looked like he’d walked in on a top-secret merger negotiation, eyeing me with a new mix of awe and pity. I immediately turned to Ethan, practically pledging allegiance. “Mr. Sterling, don’t listen to him! My loyalty is 100% to this company! I would never do anything to jeopardize our interests!” Seriously, I need this job. Ethan’s face was thunderous. Eyebrows knitted together. Looked like he was about to start yelling. I was terrified. Leo, however, was completely unfazed. He even added fuel to the fire. “What are you scared of him for? He’s not as intimidating as he looks. Hey, Anna, I like you. You should ditch this place and come work for me. I’ll definitely pay you more than he does.” Okay, I don’t know why Leo was trying to get me fired, but he was doing a bang-up job. Nope. Not dealing with this. Fight or flight? Flight. Definitely flight. “Excuse me, nature calls!” I practically sprinted towards the restrooms, escaping the corporate minefield. When I got back, they were both acting like nothing happened, back to business as usual. Weirdos. 4 This whole trip had absolutely nothing to do with my actual job. I couldn’t help with any of it. Thankfully, Ethan didn’t seem to expect me to. Like he said, I was basically just teleportation insurance. So, I tried to make myself invisible, huddled in a corner, scrolling through TikTok. This guy’s cute, but kinda scrawny… This one has abs, but way too much, not as good as Ethan’s… Speaking of, Ethan hadn’t posted anything new this week. Kinda wanted to nudge him for an update, but my survival instinct screamed NO. Man, after seeing the boss’s… uh… content, all these other guys seemed kinda bland. “What are you doing?” That cool, distinctive voice right above me made me jump. My phone clattered to the floor. The video playing was one of my pre-Ethan favorites. The creator had a thing for uniforms and wasn’t shy about it. Ethan glanced at the screen as he bent down to pick up my phone. Before I could even thank him, I watched in horror as his long fingers did a long-press on the screen and mercilessly tapped ‘Not Interested.’ Dude! He handed the phone back to me, my silent rage apparently invisible to him. “Work hours, Anna. Less time on… low-brow content.” Right, right. Their thirst traps are low-brow. Yours are high art. Got it. Seriously, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t party. My only vice is appreciating the male form online. What’s the big deal? And what was up with Leo? Every time he saw me for the rest of the trip, he’d start grinning, trying to hold back laughter, and eventually just failing completely. By the end of the trip, Ethan basically banned us from being in the same room. Said we were “disrupting productivity.” To give me something to do, Mark asked me to book the return flights. I sidled up to Ethan’s temporary desk while he was typing away. Lowering my voice conspiratorially, I said, “Boss, I have a brilliant idea. Could save the company money.” He didn’t even look up. “Go on.” “Okay, so I fly back first. Get to the office. Then, I comment on your video, and poof! You’re instantly back at HQ. Saves time, saves a plane ticket. Win-win!” He shot down my genius plan immediately. Told me to stop thinking up “shady shortcuts.” Damn. I really wanted to see if the long-distance teleportation worked.

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My picture-perfect boyfriend disappeared. The cops asked me, “You knew he was cheating, didn’t you?” I calmly lowered my gaze and smiled. “I knew. But so what? That didn’t change… the fact that I wanted to marry him.” 1. I stared down at the photo that popped up on my phone. The faint morning light hit the sleeping face of a young man, long eyelashes, handsome features. On the pillow next to him, long black hair was scattered. The girl didn’t show her face. Honestly, it was actually a pretty well-lit, well-composed photo. It would have been even better if… the man wasn’t the boyfriend I was planning my wedding with. A rhythmic knock on the door pulled me back. I deleted the photo history, closed the messaging app, opened the door, and put on a smile for him. “Ethan.” I’m Grace, a third-year grad student, sharing an off-campus apartment with my roommate, Chloe. Ethan was here to bring me breakfast. I took the still-warm takeout bag from his hand, playfully scolding him, “I told you not to bother. You’re so busy at work, you should sleep in if you have the time.” “But I missed you,” Ethan said gently, hugging me and leaving a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’m heading to work now. I’ll pick you up tonight for the movie, don’t forget.” I fought the urge to pull away, keeping the sweet expression plastered on my face. “Got it. Drive safe.” I watched with a smile as he drove off, humming a tune as I tossed the breakfast into the trash can. Barring any surprises, I thought, this would be the last time I ever saw him. The next day, I got a call from the police. Ethan was missing. To everyone else, he was the model boyfriend. Good-looking, gentle personality, already a project manager at a big company just three years after graduation. Once his current project wrapped up successfully, a promotion and raise were practically guaranteed. Except for being too busy to reply quickly or spend much time with me, he did almost everything a boyfriend should. Flowers and thoughtful gifts arrived on time for every anniversary. A date at a nice restaurant every week without fail. He’d come over on Sundays to help with laundry and cleaning. He’d remind me two days in advance that my period was coming. If I caught a cold, he’d take care of me constantly. If work kept him swamped, he’d still text seven or eight times a day asking how I was, if he needed to take time off to drive me to the doctor… And this practically perfect boyfriend, on the very night we were supposed to have dinner and discuss getting married and buying a house, vanished without a trace. 2 The police told me his colleagues couldn’t reach him all day. They went to his apartment, but no one was home. The project he was leading was at a critical stage. After confirming Ethan couldn’t be contacted, the company reported him missing immediately. The investigating officer was young, Detective Miller. He seemed suspicious of me. Makes sense. In cases like these, the people closest are always the prime suspects. I answered his questions one by one. “When was the last time you saw him?” “Yesterday morning. He brought me breakfast, then went back to the office. We were supposed to meet last night, but late afternoon he texted, said something urgent came up at work, and canceled the date.” I opened my phone and showed Detective Miller the text message Ethan sent me. “You didn’t try to contact him after that?” “No. Things like this happened before. He’s a workaholic, and his team has been crunching on a big project, it’s in the final stages. So, I try not to bother him.” “Are you aware of any conflicts he had, past or present?” I thought carefully, then shook my head. “Ethan’s a really nice guy, he rarely gets into arguments. His project team competes with others at work, sure, but that’s normal office stuff. They still hang out, go for drinks, company team-building events. Nothing serious, I think. At least, I never heard him complain about problems with people.” “What about finances? Anything unusual lately?” “Not that I know of. He’s been saving up to buy a house for years, he’s always careful with money.” “Does he have any close friends around here?” “He moved here for work after college, his family lives far away, none of his old friends are local. Besides a few colleagues he got close to after starting work, there’s his cousin, Tessa. She’s in her second year of med school. We’d usually get together with her, maybe every two weeks, grab a meal.” “Okay, understood. Last question, where were you last night?” “I was in my apartment. Around seven, I had a video call with my advisor for about half an hour. After that, I stayed in my room working on my thesis, didn’t go out… Oh, wait, around eight, I went downstairs to take out the trash. There are security cameras in the hallway and elevator, they should be able to confirm that.” “Alright. If anything new comes up, we’ll be in touch. Please keep your phone on.” I stood up as he did. 3 Suddenly, Detective Miller’s sharp gaze landed on my brown leather bag hanging nearby. His expression turned serious. “What’s this?” I paused, my eyes falling on the few splattered reddish-brown marks I hadn’t noticed before. My heart gave a little jump. My roommate Chloe, who had been sitting quietly beside me, suddenly spoke up. “Oh, that’s paint! I accidentally flicked some when I was painting the other day. See?” She pointed to her easel in the corner of the living room. On it was an unfinished painting of a sunset, the colors reflecting on a lake, red like blood. She stuck her tongue out at me sheepishly. “I was afraid you’d get mad I made a mess again, so I didn’t tell you. Thought I’d cleaned it all up, didn’t realize it got on your bag too…” Detective Miller’s expression softened slightly, but he still carefully put on white gloves and picked up the bag, examining it closely. I unconsciously rubbed my fingers together, watching him intently… After a moment, Detective Miller hung the bag back up. “Looks like paint, alright.” He glanced at me again. “You seem nervous, Ms. Hayes?” I managed a small smile. “This is my first time dealing with the police. Your presence just now… it was a little intimidating.” Detective Miller smirked, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “As long as you haven’t done anything wrong, you’ve got nothing to fear.” I walked him downstairs. As I looked down, I quickly adjusted my expression, trying to stop the corners of my mouth from turning up. Turning back, I saw Chloe standing at the top of the stairs, watching me with an unnerving intensity. The afternoon sun hit her pale, gentle face. Her round eyes, like a small animal’s, were full of innocence and concern. She’s my childhood best friend. Always loved getting the same things as me, from hair clips and toothbrushes to lipstick, coats, dresses, even luggage. After high school, she insisted on applying to the same university as me, pestered me into renting an apartment together off-campus, continuing our inseparable routine. She looked at me deeply. “Grace, Ethan’s missing… Aren’t you worried?” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a cheating scumbag. Honestly, I kind of hope fate catches up with him.” I looked directly at her surprised expression, meaningfully tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Chloe, I thought… you knew.” We’ve known each other for so many years. I know her just like she knows me. Of course, I knew the girl Ethan was cheating with was Chloe. She hadn’t exactly tried to hide how well she knew Ethan around me. She even deliberately used a fake account to add me, sending me all sorts of flirtatious messages and photos between her and Ethan, the kind where her face wasn’t showing. Ha. My best friend, indeed. 4 Two more days passed in anxious waiting. Detective Miller came again. Chloe, as usual, sat beside me. I poured him some water, asking impatiently, “Any news about Ethan?” He shook his head slightly. His gaze no longer held suspicion, but a hint of something else… pity? I inwardly disliked this kind of condescending, cheap judgment, but kept my expression concerned and fragile. I’d rehearsed this scene a thousand times, guaranteed not to arouse suspicion. “Ms. Hayes, while investigating Ethan’s social connections, we discovered… he wasn’t exactly exclusive in his romantic relationships.” Chloe, sitting next to me, stiffened slightly. My eyes widened, I almost dropped my glass. “What? You mean, Ethan… he was cheating on me?” “Ms. Hayes, during your relationship, did you suspect anything at all?” I instinctively shook my head. A few drops of hot water splashed onto the back of my hand. I ignored it, pressing urgently, “Is Ethan’s disappearance related to this? Who was he cheating with? For how long? Is he… Is he still alive?” “It was someone you know. His cousin, Tessa.” Chloe froze. And I, shocked, knocked over my water glass. “Ethan and Tessa? But… but they’re cousins!” “According to Tessa herself, she was adopted as a child and isn’t blood-related to Ethan. Furthermore, they’ve been involved for ten years. Tessa even had an abortion for him after high school.” I started shaking violently. “Back then, back then Tessa was underage! What does that even mean? Was I the other woman?! No, wait, the three of us often hung out together, she always acted so naturally… Why would they team up to lie to me!” Detective Miller stood up, moved my overturned glass away, and placed a box of tissues near my hand. Belatedly, I realized tears were streaming down my face.

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My coworker, Jessica, is missing. And I suspect my ex-boyfriend, the one I broke up with because his possessiveness was bordering on mania, might have killed her. After doing some digging on my own, one day, the cops slapped a pair of silver handcuffs on my wrists. I just don’t understand… 01 I think Jessica’s missing! An hour ago, I texted my coworker Jessica, telling her I’d swing by her place to pick up the work laptop like we planned. But then she texted back, telling me not to come. I asked why, sent a bunch of follow-up texts, but got nothing back. Radio silence. Whatever. I need that laptop today for the new project files. So, I went over to her apartment anyway, just like we’d originally agreed. Weird thing was, I knocked for three solid minutes, and there wasn’t a sound from inside. When I tried calling her, it went straight to voicemail – phone off. Staring at the closed door, I sighed, ready to just head back home. Creeeak— Just then, the door suddenly swung open. “Ethan?!” I stared at the guy standing there, my eyes wide with disbelief. What the hell was he doing here?! Ethan is my ex. We broke up just a few days ago. The reason was simple: he’s a total control freak! A creep! He tried to control my life, my friends, he even went through my phone and deleted every guy’s contact except my dad’s. After I dumped him, I kicked him out. But my coworker Jessica had absolutely nothing to do with Ethan. So why was he showing up in Jessica’s apartment now? I could tell Ethan was just as shocked to see me. His hands were trembling slightly, and I wondered if he was about to lose it again. Through the crack in the door, I peeked inside but didn’t see Jessica anywhere. Maybe Jessica really did have something going on and didn’t want me over? I didn’t want anything more to do with Ethan. Seeing she wasn’t there, I spun around and practically ran out of the building. Back at my own apartment. Ethan and Jessica… the thought kept swirling in my head. What was the connection between those two? Why was Ethan in Jessica’s apartment? I tossed and turned all night, couldn’t figure it out. The next morning, sporting dark circles under my eyes, I rushed through my morning routine and headed to the office. “Hey Boss, did Jessica call in sick or take a personal day today?” My boss, a middle-aged guy, looked at me puzzled. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Your desks are right next to each other. Jessica didn’t show up today. Did she mention anything to you?” I shook my head. Seeing the boss starting to get annoyed, my mind flashed back to yesterday. I felt really uneasy. In the year or so I’ve worked here, I’d never known Jessica to take a day off without notice or just not show up. What could have possibly happened to her? The workday dragged on agonizingly slow until quitting time. I didn’t dare go back to Jessica’s apartment. I was worried I’d run into my ex again. I decided to talk to my roommate. He’s a cop! 2: Clues When I got home, my roommate was chilling in the living room watching TV. I walked over, feeling a little awkward. “Hey, uh… Officer… could I ask you for a favor? It’s kind of important.” He glanced at me, then turned off the TV. “What’s up?” I knew we weren’t super close, so his curious look made me feel a bit self-conscious. I straightened up, sat across from him, and got serious. “I think… I think my coworker, Jessica, might be missing.” I told him everything that had happened. Not only that, but I also told him about my ex, Ethan, how controlling he was, how much of a creep he could be. As I talked, I saw his brow furrow deeper and deeper. After a long pause, he rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, okay. If your coworker really is missing, your ex definitely sounds like a prime suspect.” “Do you think Jessica could be in danger?” I asked urgently. He shook his head, his brow still knitted. “Hard to say. But right now, the priority is finding your coworker, or at least confirming if she’s actually missing.” Suddenly, panic washed over me. It was because of me that Jessica even knew Ethan. If something happened to Jessica, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself. I looked at my roommate, pleading. “I need to get into Jessica’s place, look around. Find some opportunity.” “Could you come with me?” Seeing how desperate I was, he didn’t hesitate. “Protecting people is part of the job. Don’t worry. I’ll file a preliminary report right now, get a case started. Then I’ll go with you.” Hearing him say that, the knot in my stomach loosened just a bit. He made a quick call to the precinct, and then we were off, heading to Jessica’s apartment building on his motorcycle. We didn’t knock right away. To avoid running into Ethan, we hid in a corner of the stairwell. My roommate reminded me that if Jessica was missing and Ethan was involved, searching while Ethan was home would be impossible. So we waited. We waited for Ethan to leave. After three excruciatingly long hours, Ethan’s apartment door opened. My heart leaped into my throat when I saw Ethan walk out carrying a trash bag. If it wasn’t absolutely necessary to find out what happened to Jessica, I would never want to see Ethan again! Finally, after Ethan was completely out of sight, we waited another ten minutes or so, just to be sure he wasn’t coming right back. Then, we approached the door. I fumbled around in my backpack and pulled out a set of keys. Jessica’s spare keys. Why I had them, I couldn’t quite remember clearly. I vaguely recalled Jessica giving them to me for safekeeping sometime before. Not dwelling on it, I unlocked the door and pushed it open. The apartment was empty. Still, I hesitated, glancing back at my roommate standing behind me. He nodded, giving me the go-ahead to enter. I took a deep breath, pulled the key out of the lock, and went to put it back in my bag. As I did, a glint caught my eye. On the corner of the key… was that a dark red smudge? It looked like some kind of dried paint or maybe just dirt. At that moment, it didn’t register as blood. 3: My Ex Was Living With My Coworker! Stepping inside, the living room was spotless. That was Jessica. She was a total neat freak; her place was always immaculate. I pointed to one of the closed doors. “That’s Jessica’s room.” My roommate went up and knocked. As expected, no answer. He tried the doorknob. Locked. “Door’s locked tight. Maybe she went on a trip?” I shook my head. That didn’t make sense. If Jessica went on a trip, surely she wouldn’t just ghost my messages indefinitely. Thinking hard, suddenly, a suitcase in the corner of the room caught my eye. “Hey, isn’t that my suitcase?” I walked closer, examining it. Yep, definitely mine. The one Ethan had bought me. He must have taken it back when he left. My disdain for my ex grew even stronger. Not just a control freak, but cheap too! “Do you have a key for her room?” my roommate asked. I quickly checked the spare key ring and found another key. It fit. I unlocked Jessica’s bedroom door. The room was empty, looking like no one had been there for days. We searched the room thoroughly but didn’t find any obvious clues. What was becoming clear, though, was that Jessica was likely really missing. Otherwise, there was no way she’d be completely unreachable for days like this. We tidied up, making sure everything looked untouched, and were about to leave when suddenly, someone burst through the front door. It was Ethan! Ethan clearly hadn’t expected to see me in Jessica’s apartment. His eyes darted to my roommate. “Who the hell are you? Get out of my house!” He lunged, throwing a punch aimed at pushing my roommate out the door. He looked frantic, like he was hiding some dark secret. But my roommate, being a cop, wasn’t easily caught off guard. He reacted quickly, dodging the punch. Before Ethan could try again, my roommate grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door. In the chaos, I thought I saw Ethan’s arms trembling slightly. Even the muscles in his legs seemed to be quivering. Was he… was his mania kicking in again? I quickly turned away, following my roommate as we hurried away from that place. Finally, when we were sure Ethan wasn’t following us, my heart rate started to return to normal. Back at my apartment that night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. What was the deal with Ethan and Jessica? And why was Jessica still missing? A storm of questions raged in my mind. I couldn’t sleep a wink.

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My brother killed someone. Mom called me, frantic, wanting me—the best lawyer in the family, his big sister—to save him. Instead, I hung up and dialed 911. I used every bit of my professional skill to make sure he ended up behind bars. My stupid little brother has no idea. I’ve spent eight years planning this, carefully molding him into the kind of person who would commit murder. It’s time to return all the pain he put me through. 01 It was Thanksgiving Eve, supposed to be one of the happiest nights of the year. Mom was a whirlwind in the kitchen, prepping for the big feast tomorrow. I watched Dad playing video games with my brother, Mike, a familiar ache of envy in my chest. Suddenly, Mom poked her head out, her voice sharp. “Sarah! Get in here and help! Stop slacking off!” Dad finally glanced up from the screen, annoyed. “You heard your mother. Go on! What are you spacing out for?” Then, just like that, he was back to doting on Mike, ruffling his hair. “Alright, buddy, let’s get back to this level.” Between Mom and me bustling around, a huge dinner finally hit the table tonight too – a sort of pre-Thanksgiving feast. Mom’s a great cook, and she’d even made my absolute favorite: buffalo wings. “Go get your brother!” Mom ordered, heading back for another dish. I walked over to where Mike was still glued to his game. “Mike, dinner’s ready.” He didn’t even look up. “Come on, let’s eat!” I nudged him again. That’s when he kicked out, hard, right into my stomach. Pain shot through me, and I crumpled to the floor. “Why did you kick me?” I choked back tears, demanding an answer. “Oh, stop being dramatic,” Dad said dismissively, pulling Mike up and leading him to the table. “He barely tapped you.” Mom came out of the kitchen then, her face clouded with irritation. “Get up and bring that last bowl. Quit playing the victim!” She sat down, signaling for everyone to start eating. Tears welled up, hot and stinging. I knew explaining was useless. Mom wouldn’t listen. But at least there were wings. Thinking about them, I reached out, my heart lifting slightly as I picked up a juicy one, my favorite flat. Just as I was about to put it on my plate, Mike snatched it right off my fork. “Mine first!” he crowed. Before I could say anything, Mom cut in. “You’re the older sister, Sarah. Let your brother have first pick.” Defeated, I pulled my fork back, hoping I could get one later when he’d had his fill. Dinner was almost over. Only two wings were left on the platter. Seeing that no one else was going for them, I reached out again. But as soon as my fork moved, Mom spoke up again. “Leave those for Mike. You know they’re his favorite.” “But Mom, I haven’t had a single one,” I protested, the unfairness burning. “You’re the sister, you should let him have them. Honestly, you’re so selfish!” Dad added impatiently from his end of the table. “He likes them, but I like them too! I didn’t get any. There are two left, we can each have one.” Defiantly, I speared one wing and put it in my bowl, leaving the last one for Mike. Maybe because it was the night before Thanksgiving, Mom and Dad didn’t want a bigger scene. They actually let me keep it. But Mike, used to always getting his way, couldn’t believe it. He threw his fork down onto the table, glaring at me. “You’re a bad sister!” he spat, his voice full of venom. “I’m gonna kill you!” I ignored him, focusing on the wing in my bowl. I took a big bite. The spicy, tangy sauce exploded in my mouth. It was delicious, and for that one second, totally worth the fight. 2: The Fireplace Later that night, Dad poked the embers in the fireplace, making them glow brighter, before heading off to bed. Mom had disappeared somewhere. It was just me and Mike left in the living room, the TV droning on. Suddenly, Mike gasped. “Sarah! Look! What’s that in the fire?” His sudden shout got my attention. Curious, I leaned forward, peering towards the fireplace grate where he was pointing. All I saw were glowing red embers and white ash. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” I asked, confused. As I started to turn back, a sudden, immense force slammed into the back of my head, shoving my face towards the fireplace. It was Mike. While I was leaning down, he’d pushed my head with all his might, right towards the scorching heat. Flames seemed to leap towards me. An instant, searing pain overwhelmed me as the heat hit my face. I could smell burning hair, feel the skin on my cheek tighten and scorch. Panic surged. I slammed my hands onto the hearth, pushing back with every ounce of strength I had. My survival instinct screamed – push away or you’ll die. The heat intensified, my nostrils filling with the acrid smell of smoke and burnt flesh. Choking, gasping, I finally managed to use my leverage, shoving hard enough to knock Mike off balance. He stumbled back and fell to the floor. I sucked in cool, blessed air, but the relief was immediately swamped by agonizing pain. I knew, instinctively, my face was badly burned. I was disfigured. Hysterical, I screamed at him, “What were you trying to do? You almost killed me!” “Yeah! I wanted to kill you!” His reply was instant, cold, and full of contempt. He scrambled up from the floor, grabbed a handful of my singed hair, and yanked my head back, his face twisted with rage. “You dared to take that wing from me today? You’re just the family slave! You don’t obey, I kill you!” “What’s going on? What happened?!” Mom and Dad rushed back into the room, alerted by the commotion. All my hurt and terror flooded me at once, tears streaming down my burning cheeks. Through the blur, I saw their anxious faces. For a split second, I thought they’d rush me to the hospital, see how badly I was hurt. But then, like a gust of wind, they blew past me. Two dark shapes moving quickly. I froze. 3: The Lie “Mikey! Son! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” Mom and Dad were hovering over him, examining him frantically as if the sky had fallen. “His hand brushed the hot grate, it’s burned! We need to get him to the ER, what if it scars?” Mom fretted, her voice tight with panic. “Okay, okay, I’ll get the car!” Dad grabbed his keys and practically sprinted out the door, stumbling over a shoe near the entrance in his haste. Mom rounded on me then, her eyes blazing. “How could you let this happen? We were gone for two minutes, and you let him get hurt like this!” It was like she couldn’t see my face, blistered and raw. Like she couldn’t smell the burnt hair still clinging to me. All she saw was the red mark on the back of Mike’s hand where he must have touched the hot metal grate. She didn’t even ask what happened. She didn’t ask if I was in pain. “Got the car! Let’s go!” Dad yelled from outside. “You just wait ’til I get back, young lady!” Mom snapped, pulling Mike towards the door. Then they were gone. Somewhere outside, maybe a neighbor setting off early fireworks, a bang echoed. The holiday spirit felt like a cruel joke. I stood alone in the silent living room, the throbbing pain in my face a burning reminder. I was abandoned. Fighting back the escalating pain, I found a pair of scissors and hacked off the burnt strands of my long hair. There was some antiseptic left from Mom dabbing Mike’s hand earlier. Staring into the hallway mirror at the horrifying reflection, I clumsily cleaned my wounds as best I could. Then I went to my room and collapsed onto the bed. My face is destroyed, and they didn’t even care! Why? Why don’t they care about me? The grotesque image in the mirror shattered me, but their cold indifference cut even deeper. It was crystal clear now. In my parents’ eyes, Mike and I were not equal. I would never, ever be as important as him. I didn’t sleep at all. Just as dawn was breaking, exhaustion finally claimed me. I’d barely drifted off when BAM! My bedroom door flew open. “Your brother told me what happened on the way to the hospital,” Mom said, her voice low as she approached my bed. “He didn’t mean it. Don’t hold a grudge.” “Don’t hold a grudge?” I shot up, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what he did? He shoved my face towards the fire! I’m disfigured! And you want me to just forgive him?!” My voice rose, thick with tears and outrage. “Keep your voice down, your brother’s sleeping,” Dad hissed, appearing in the doorway, frowning. “We know you’re hurting,” Mom said, her eyes welling up (whether with real tears or manipulative ones, I couldn’t tell). “But Mikey’s still young. If people find out about this, how can he face his friends at school? How will he get along?” “Exactly,” Dad chimed in, his tone softening slightly. “If anyone asks about your face, just say you tripped and fell near the fireplace. It was an accident. It’s better for the family’s reputation.” A part of me had sworn never to be swayed by them again, but hearing them, seeing their apparent concern (even if it was for the family image), I wavered. He was my brother, after all. My only sibling. Maybe if I sacrificed more, they’d finally appreciate me, give me some of the love they showered on Mike. “Okay,” I whispered, the fight draining out of me. “Okay, Mom, Dad. I’ll tell people what you said. You guys should get some sleep. I’m tired.” I saw the relief wash over their faces, and my stomach twisted. I had caved. Again. After staying home for a while, letting the worst of the burns heal into angry scars, I knew I had to go back to school. Finishing my education was my only way out. I put on a baseball cap pulled low and a scarf wrapped high around my neck and face, and headed out. Walking past the neighbors’ houses, I caught their strange looks, saw their mouths moving, whispering. Was my face that hideous? A wave of shame washed over me. I ducked my head and practically ran the rest of the way to school. When I got to my classroom, my desk had been moved to the very back corner, isolated. “Look at her face. Serves her right.” “Yeah, totally.” I heard the whispers behind me, classmates talking about me. “What are you talking about?” I finally spun around, unable to take it anymore.

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Here I was, living my best life, young and free, when suddenly—bam!—an uncle, practically my own age, drops into my life out of nowhere. And this uncle? He actually moves in. And has the nerve to tell me, every single day, to respect my elders! Wait a second… he looks kinda familiar. Why does he look exactly like my ex-boyfriend? 1 New Year’s Day. Early morning. I was deep in a sweet dream about becoming fabulously wealthy when my mom ripped open the curtains. The blinding sunlight made me screw up my face. Mom yanked the covers off me, shaking me hard. “Ashley, get up! Your… uh… your Uncle Ethan is coming over to wish us a Happy New Year. Hurry up and get ready, don’t look like a mess for our guest.” “Mmmph, okay, I got it,” I mumbled, rolling over and drifting back towards sleep. Hold on. Uncle Ethan? Since when did I have another uncle? The shock jolted me upright in bed. Who was this uncle who’d just materialized out of thin air? I wracked my sleep-fogged brain, trying to place him. Nothing. Oh well, whatever. It’s just calling someone ‘uncle.’ Plus, maybe I could hit him up for some New Year’s cash. This felt like a total win-win situation. That thought alone got me moving. I scrambled to get dressed and presentable, planting myself in the living room early, waiting for this mysterious ‘uncle.’ Knock—knock—knock! Hearing the door, I practically bounced off the couch. Mom shot me a warning look, and I dutifully sat back down, trying to look composed for the big arrival. Mom led him into the living room. She was about to make introductions, but I beat her to it. I popped up, gave a little bow—more like a head bob, really—and chirped, “Uncle Ethan, hi! Happy New Year! Show me the money!” The air went still. Everyone just stared, stunned by my… directness. After a few awkward seconds, Mom forced a laugh. “This one… she’s a handful. Ethan, please don’t mind her.” “It’s alright, Aunt Carol,” he said smoothly. “It’s New Year’s, after all. I probably should give her a little something. How about I just Venmo my niece? Make it easy.” That voice… why did it sound so damn familiar? Before I could process it, my hand had already whipped out my phone, QR code displayed. As the friend request popped up on his screen, I saw the profile picture. That familiar avatar. My stomach lurched. I hesitated for only a second before accepting. Instantly, a Venmo notification pinged. The note said “New Year’s Money.” It was… surprisingly generous. The biggest New Year’s gift I’d ever gotten. I grinned to myself. This cheap uncle wasn’t so cheap after all. Mission accomplished. I was about to sneak away when Mom stopped me. Her voice, deceptively calm, pulled me back. “You took your uncle’s gift, Ashley. The least you can do is thank him properly!” I did another awkward head-bob-bow thing, pasting on my sweetest smile. “Thank you, Uncle Ethan!” I looked up, and my eyes met his. That familiar feeling hit me again, stronger this time. My gaze dropped slightly, taking in the handsome, refined face staring back at me. Suddenly, the memory floodgates burst open. This well-dressed, polite man standing right in front of me wasn’t just some random ‘uncle.’ He was my ex-boyfriend—Ethan Miller! 2: The Ex Who Became Family (Sort Of) It had been a year and a half since the breakup. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine bumping into him again like this. And I’d just called him “Uncle Ethan.” Multiple times. To his face. The humiliation burned. Any shred of dignity I might have had in front of him? Gone. Poof. Thinking about it made me furious. I glared at him, trying to shoot daggers with my eyes when Mom wasn’t looking. And what did he do? He smiled at me. Smiled like he’d just won the lottery. The nerve! He was totally messing with me! I was seeing red, and even the generous Venmo couldn’t cool my temper. Mom, oblivious, was still explaining. “Ashley, your Uncle Ethan’s mother is your Grandma Helen’s dearest friend. I practically grew up with his mom watching over me. So, you know, generationally speaking, calling him ‘Uncle Ethan’ is the proper thing to do.” Proper, my foot. Uncle Ethan, seriously? How dare he even show his face? My glare intensified; if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under. “So, anyway, Ashley,” Mom continued cheerfully, “Ethan’s got a job change, and he needs a place to stay for about a month while things get sorted. Why don’t you show him the guest room? And then maybe take him for a quick walk around the neighborhood so he knows where things are? I’ll get started on dinner.” Mom gave me that look—the one that said “don’t argue”—so I gritted my teeth, swallowed my rage, and forced myself to lead him to the guest room. The second the door closed behind us, his polite mask vanished. He plopped down in the chair, crossed his legs, and smirked. “Well, Ashley, ‘Uncle’ here feels just terrible about imposing. Hope I won’t be too much trouble for the next month. Looking forward to you taking good care of me.” “Taking care of you? Ethan Miller, you’ve got some nerve! Don’t you dare pull the ‘uncle’ card on me. I haven’t even started asking how you have the gall to show up here!” His smirk widened. “Ashley, Ashley. Didn’t your mom teach you to respect your elders?” Respect? I practically yelled, “Ethan! Don’t you know? Any decent ex should basically disappear off the face of the earth!” Mom must have heard me shouting from the kitchen. She popped her head in. “Everything okay in here?” Then, turning to Ethan with concern, “Ethan, dear, if you need anything at all, you just tell Aunt Carol. Anything!” I watched him seamlessly switch back to Mr. Nice Guy mode and rolled my eyes behind Mom’s back. Under Mom’s firm “request,” I reluctantly took Ethan downstairs for the neighborhood tour. I stomped ahead, rattling off street names and landmarks like a bored robot. He walked behind me, surprisingly quiet, actually seeming to listen. Tour over. Mom’s task complete. I couldn’t wait to get back inside and lock myself in my room. But just as we reached the porch, Ethan, who’d been quiet for ages, suddenly piped up, “So, Ashley… how about you call me ‘Uncle Ethan’ again? Just for old times’ sake?” He actually had the nerve to bring that up again? I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. Then, an idea sparked. A nasty little bit of old family folklore. Perfect for him. I turned, a slow, wicked smile spreading across my face. “Ethan, you ever hear that weird old superstition? The one my grandma used to talk about?” He looked puzzled. I leaned in conspiratorially. “Something about how cutting your hair during the New Year brings bad luck… to your uncle? If you insist on being a jerk about this, I might just be tempted to give myself a little trim. Send you some bad vibes—real soon!” 3: Scissors, Slips, and Sorry Bagels Maybe my threat worked, or maybe he just got bored. Either way, he finally shut up and followed me back inside quietly. Dinner was tense. He charmed Mom with his polite act while I stewed. I thought we might actually get through the meal without incident, but then he just had to start something again. “Aunt Carol,” he began, looking oh-so-sincere, “I’m still a little fuzzy on some of the neighborhood details. Would it be too much trouble if Ashley came by my room later to explain things a bit more clearly?” He looked so earnest, so polite, that Mom actually bought it. “Of course, Ethan! Ashley would be happy to help.” My scalp prickled. I had a bad feeling about this. Knowing him, he was definitely planning some kind of stunt. After dinner, I tried stalling, hoping Mom would forget. No such luck. She spotted my procrastination tactics a mile away and hustled me towards his room to “answer his questions.” Great. Resigned to my fate, I marched into Ethan’s room, practically radiating “let’s just get this over with.” There it was again—that infuriating smirk. My internal alarm bells went off. I scanned the room, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. My eyes landed on a pair of scissors sitting on the desk corner. Before Ethan could even open his mouth, I lunged. I snatched the scissors before he could react and, grabbing a lock of my own hair near the end, snip! A few strands fluttered to the floor. Seeing the stunned silence on Ethan’s face filled me with wicked satisfaction. “There you go, Uncle Ethan! Just like I promised. Cut my hair. You know what they say… ‘Bad luck for the uncle.’ Good luck with that!” I tossed the scissors down, ready to make a dramatic exit. But just then, the door burst open. Mom stood there, holding a fruit platter, pointing a finger straight at me. “Ashley Ann! Do you have any respect for your elders? Is this how you treat a guest on New Year’s?! You apologize to Ethan this instant!” I lifted my chin stubbornly. “No! Why should I apologize to him?” Without another word, I pushed past Mom and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me, tears stinging my eyes. I collapsed onto my bed, feeling completely overwhelmed and wronged. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore, eventually drifting off without even realizing it. The next morning, I tiptoed out of my room, starving. And what did I see? Ethan, hopping around on one foot, clearly limping. A flicker of mean satisfaction went through me, erasing last night’s misery. I headed happily towards the kitchen for breakfast. And there, on the table, was a bag from that amazing bagel place downtown – the one with the hour-long lines! My absolute favorite. I started munching away, praising Mom between bites. “Mom, you’re the best! You actually got me bagels from that place!” Mom looked at me, her expression complicated. “Actually, honey… your Uncle Ethan got those. I mentioned offhand that you liked them, and he went out first thing this morning to get them… as an apology. He wanted to get back quickly so they’d still be warm for you, and he slipped on some ice on the sidewalk. You should really thank him.” I froze mid-chew. A strange feeling bloomed in my chest. He’d gone all the way downtown… for me? And he’d fallen because he was rushing back? I pushed down the weird fluttery feeling and managed a sincere, “Thanks, Uncle Ethan.” Seeing my genuine gratitude, Mom immediately assigned me a new task: take Ethan to urgent care to get his leg checked out and maybe get it wrapped. I wanted to refuse, but looking at his pained expression as he hobbled… the protest died on my lips. I sighed and agreed.

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I suspected my father killed my mother. I took him to court. Sure enough, Dad confessed. But when they simulated the crime scene, the way he said he killed her… it was all wrong. 01 My name is Ava Johnson. I was the valedictorian for my state. I should have been heading off to an Ivy League school on a full scholarship. But now, my life has taken a completely different turn. Outside the courthouse, I tried to shield my eyes from the blinding sun, lifting a hand, but it was useless. I couldn’t help but sigh, shaking my head with a bitter taste in my mouth… I remember it like it was yesterday, a year ago, driving up to my dad’s big house in the suburbs. He was eating dinner at the time. When he saw me, he looked genuinely surprised. It had been a long time since I’d seen him. I hadn’t even called him once lately. Quickly, though, he recovered, his face lighting up. “Ava, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Haven’t eaten yet, right? Perfect timing, come eat with Dad.” There was a pleading tone in his voice. I didn’t budge. He looked at me, confused. “Ava?” Back then, my body couldn’t stop trembling slightly. I slowly held out my blood-stained hands towards him. I remember it vividly. The moment Dad saw my hands, he panicked. “Ava, what happened? What’s wrong?” He rushed over, grabbing my hands tightly in his. By then, I was already sobbing uncontrollably. “My… my mom’s dead…” “Ava, what… what… what did you say?” “Mom was murdered. She… she was lying in a pool of blood. She… I… I saw it with my own eyes…” Clearly, I was starting to ramble, not making much sense. “Ava, don’t be scared. Dad’s here. Dad’s right here…” “Dad? Don’t be scared?” I glared at him, and with strength I didn’t know I had, I shoved him hard. He stumbled and fell to the ground. “Michael Johnson, tell me, was it you? Did you kill my mother?” “Ava, what are you talking about! How could I possibly kill your mom?” I pointed at him, shouting, “Not you? How could it not be you? You just left Mom’s place, and then she died! Are you telling me you didn’t do it?” Dad stared at me, completely bewildered. “When was I at your mom’s? Ava, tell me, are you feeling okay? Please don’t scare me like this!” He got up and started walking towards me. I shook my head, backing away. “Michael! Do you think nobody knows what you did? I’m telling you, someone saw you leaving Mom’s house! What excuse do you have now?” “Ava Johnson, what nonsense are you spouting!” Dad looked utterly shocked, disbelief written all over his face. He took a deep breath, shook his head sadly, and said, “Ava, yes, it’s true, your mother and I were going to get divorced. But I had no reason to kill her!” “No reason? Or are you just afraid to say it!” I stared him straight in the eye. “Mom fell for some other guy. She was going to take back all her shares in the company. Isn’t that a reason?” “Get out! Just get the hell out! I don’t have an ungrateful daughter like you!” “Hit a nerve, didn’t I, Michael? Now you’re angry!” Dad looked at me with deep disappointment. He pointed towards the door and yelled, “Ava Johnson, get out right now! I never want to see you again!” “Michael! Don’t think just because you killed Mom, you’ll get everything. No way. Absolutely not. I’m going to call the police right now. Right this second!” “Ava Johnson, you stop right there!” I ignored him and walked straight out the door. Impulse had clouded my judgment. I stepped outside the house, ready to dial 911. I fumbled in my pockets for a while before realizing I’d forgotten my phone. It took me over half an hour to get back to my uncle’s place, where I finally called the police. 2: Dad’s Missing? An hour later, I led the responding officers to the scene. After the Medical Examiner’s on-site assessment, it was confirmed: my mother’s death was not from natural causes. That same night, the police took me in to give a statement. I remember the officer who took my statement was a middle-aged detective named Miller. That day, I sat in the interrogation room. He kindly placed a cup of water in front of me. “Ava, I’m very sorry for your loss. Right now, I need you to try and remember everything you can about your mother. It will greatly help our investigation, understand?” I nodded, took a small sip of water, and said, “Okay, Detective. Ask whatever you need. I’ll do my best to remember.” He didn’t say anything immediately, just opened his laptop and typed for a moment before asking, “When was the last time you saw your mother?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Tonight.” “You weren’t living with your mother, correct?” “That’s right. Because I was preparing for my SATs and applying to college, I’d been staying at my uncle’s house so he could help me study.” “So, what was the reason you suddenly went home last night?” I lowered my head, thought for a moment, then said, “I ran out of spending money. I was planning to ask Mom for some cash.” Detective Miller nodded, then shuffled through some papers beside him. “We checked your mother’s bank accounts. There were no transactions involving anyone tonight.” “My mom didn’t give me any money.” “Why not?” “I don’t know.” He gave me a long look but didn’t press further. He continued, “How was your mother’s relationship with your father?” “They were planning to get divorced, but it kept getting postponed because of my college applications.” “Did you know your mother was pregnant?” I looked at him, completely stunned. “My mother was pregnant?” “Yes. According to the ME’s report, your mother was three months pregnant.” At that moment, my mind was reeling. Mom was pregnant? But wasn’t she divorcing Dad? Could it have been… that other guy’s child? Thinking this, I looked at Detective Miller and quickly asked, “Does my father know?” He shook his head. “We haven’t located your father yet.” Dad was missing? Wasn’t he just at his house earlier? He must have fled because he was guilty! Before I could process this, Detective Miller suddenly asked, “Do you know if your mother had conflicts with anyone recently? Any major arguments?” I thought for a moment. “I don’t really know much about Mom’s private affairs, but in my memory, the only person she ever had a huge fight with was my father.” Detective Miller then looked pointedly at me, his gaze shifting to my hands. “Ava, what about the bloodstains on your hands?” “I went to see Mom today, but I never expected… to find her lying in a pool of blood. I went over to try and help her up, but… but I realized she was already…” My voice choked up, and I couldn’t continue. Detective Miller handed me a pack of tissues. He waited quietly for me to compose myself. “Ava, do you need to take a break?” I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I just want to catch the person who killed my mom as soon as possible.” Detective Miller resumed his questions. “Can you tell me a bit about your parents’ story?” 3: Dad Gets Caught I took a moment to gather my thoughts and then told him everything I knew. “My mom’s family was wealthy, business owners. Dad came from a poor background; he basically married into money. Their relationship had been falling apart for years. I did hear Mom say she’d fallen for another man…” It took about an hour for me to lay out the whole messy history between my parents – their relationship, the conflicts, the arguments. It felt like recounting some dramatic soap opera. Throughout my explanation, Detective Miller’s fingers never stopped tapping on the keyboard. I knew he was meticulously recording my statement. After I finished, he typed a bit more and then said, “Okay, Ava, that should be all for now. I’ll arrange for someone to take you home. For the time being, please don’t leave the city. We’ll notify you immediately if we have any news, okay?” I nodded. “Okay, thank you, Detective Miller. Actually, my uncle is waiting outside for me. Can I go back with him?” Detective Miller thought for a second and agreed. He walked me out of the station. From a distance, I saw my Uncle David pacing nervously beside his car. When we reached him, he clearly startled seeing the detective with me. “Ava, who’s this?” I quickly explained, “Uncle David, this is Detective Miller. He’s in charge of Mom’s case.” Uncle David immediately grabbed Detective Miller’s hand firmly. “Detective, you have to find the killer. Please, please don’t let the perpetrator get away with this!” Detective Miller nodded seriously. “Rest assured, sir. We won’t let any guilty party go free, nor will we wrongly accuse an innocent person.” Hearing this, Uncle David let out a long sigh. “Well, we’re counting on you then.” “It’s our job,” Miller replied. Later that night, Uncle David drove me back to his place. Neither of us spoke during the ride; the atmosphere was incredibly tense. It wasn’t until we arrived at his house that Uncle David asked, “Ava, do the police have any suspects?” I glanced at my uncle and shook my head. “I don’t know.” He just looked at me briefly and didn’t say anything more. Just as I was getting out of the car, I suddenly added, “They said my dad seems to be missing.” Uncle David looked at me with a complicated expression. “Ava, you…” I forced a weak, strained smile. “I’m okay.” For the next few days, I stayed at Uncle David’s house. During that time, I constantly checked for news about Michael Johnson’s whereabouts. In my heart, I had already decided: Michael killed my mother. It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Suspecting my own father of brutally murdering my mom. But the facts seemed undeniable. If it wasn’t him, why would he run? If not him, then who else could it be? Every time I thought about it, my head felt like it was going to split open. Uncle David was always there for me during this period, taking meticulous care of me. Now, he was my only remaining family. The only person I felt I could trust. As we waited anxiously, news finally came from the police department. The news was, frankly, what I had expected. Their investigation had yielded results. Under my mother’s fingernails, they found a piece of skin tissue that wasn’t hers. DNA testing confirmed it belonged to my father. Furthermore, not far from the crime scene, officers found a knife. A knife stained with my mother’s blood. Forensic analysis revealed my father’s fingerprints were also on the handle. Consequently, the police focused their investigation squarely on my father. Just as I thought. Michael Johnson! He was now the prime suspect. And currently, the only suspect. But during this time, it was like he had vanished into thin air. No matter how hard the police searched, there was no trace of him. Until the department issued an APB, a wanted notice. Through the combined efforts of the public and the police, Michael Johnson was finally caught.

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Giving birth to a daughter sent my life spiraling. My husband, Mike, cursed me, hit me, and I sank into a pit of despair, crying myself sick every day. Then, when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, I suddenly found myself transported to a Reversed World. And I got to bring my husband along for the ride. 01 It happened by chance – I won a one-year trip to the Reversed World. This place was flipped: women were the breadwinners, the ones in charge. Men stayed home, did chores, and had the babies. When I crossed over, I got a bonus – I could bring one person with me. Without a second thought, I chose Mike. I came to, finding Mike kneeling beside me. My own mom, who usually tiptoed around Mike back in our world, was now standing over him, yelling, “You useless piece of trash! Can’t even get pregnant! What good are you to us? “All these years, and you can’t manage to have one kid! “Tell me, is that belly of yours just for show?” Mom wasn’t done. After the yelling, she slapped him hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the room. Just hearing it sent a jolt of dark satisfaction through me. After all these years, Mike, you finally got yours. That slap seemed to jolt Mike awake, the Mike who’d traveled here with me. He blinked, confused, glanced my way, then exploded, “What the hell is wrong with you people?!” Mom went ballistic. “What? Say that again!” Mike didn’t even look at her. He stood up and came straight for me. Maybe it was years of ingrained fear, but I instinctively flinched back. Before he could take another step, Mom swung her hand again, aiming for his face. Mike caught her arm, snarling, “Crazy old hag! Are you trying to start something?” That pushed Mom over the edge. She lifted her foot to kick him square in the stomach. I saw a smirk flicker on Mike’s face. Pure contempt. He was a boxing coach back home; what could Mom’s little kick do to him? He didn’t even try to dodge. He just let her foot connect with his gut. !!! What happened next blew my mind all over again. Mike flew backward like he’d been shot out of a cannon, his head cracking hard against the corner of the table behind him. In this Reversed World, women were way stronger than men. Mike might be big and muscular, but here, he was easily overpowered. Back in our world, Mike had hit me plenty. As I felt a little urge to join in myself, Mom grabbed Mike by the collar and smacked him hard. “Useless waste! Can’t have kids, can’t earn decent money, just sit around eating all day!” Mike glared at Mom, his eyes burning with rage. He’d never been humiliated like this, especially not by my mother. He tried to fight back, but realized with shock that he was completely powerless against her. He could only lie there, pinned. 2 Just then, the door opened, and our neighbor, Nancy, walked in. Seeing Mom laying into Mike, a knowing smile spread across Nancy’s face. She said, “Your man’s always been trouble. I told you, you need to discipline him properly, but you never listen!” Mike stared at Nancy, bewildered. Before he could say anything, Mom slapped him again. “Who told you to look! Pathetic!” If looks could kill, Mom would have been dead a thousand times over from Mike’s glare. He ground out through clenched teeth, “You just wait. I’ll kill you!” “Ooh! Hear that? Thinking of rebelling, are we?” Before Mom could react, I rushed over to Mike. I looked him up and down with mock concern, grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand, and slapped him hard across the face with the other. Five times. Beating up a defenseless Mike? I felt zero guilt. In fact, deep down, there was a thrill, a dark pleasure of revenge. Because for years, this was exactly how he had treated me. I expected him to spit out threats, but instead, he threw up. Violently, uncontrollably. The sight of the mess on the floor made my own stomach churn. Mom, who’d been on the verge of exploding again, now looked at Mike with confusion. She glanced at me meaningfully and asked, “Is your man pregnant?” “Pregnant?” The word was so familiar. I’d carried our daughter for ten months myself. But hearing it applied to Mike… It was… novel. Tentatively, I asked Mom, “He’s pregnant?” Mom rolled her eyes at me and tapped my head. “Your own man is pregnant, and you don’t even know?” I rubbed my head, feeling a bit sheepish. Before I could reply, Nancy chimed in, “Well, it’s Megan’s first time marrying a man. It’s normal she doesn’t have experience. “If this one keeps acting up, just divorce him and marry again. You’ll know better next time.” This Reversed World? I was starting to seriously dig it. Before I could even process my excitement, Mom was urging me, “What are you standing there gawking for? Get your man to the clinic for a check-up! He’s been freeloading off us for years; it’s about time he gave us a daughter!” Mom finished, then smiled at Nancy. “When you have time later, maybe you can introduce Megan to a good man!” Nancy just grinned, nodded, and patted her chest like it was already done. 3 After Nancy and Mom left, it was just Mike and me. I looked at him, a mocking smile playing on my lips. “Pissed?” Mike had just caught his breath. He spat through gritted teeth, “Megan King, you just wait! I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you!” He’d crossed over with me into this upside-down world. The shock must be massive; he probably needed time to process. So, I didn’t get angry. Instead, I smiled sweetly. “Come on, let’s go to the clinic and get you checked out. See if you really are pregnant. “Tsk, tsk. A pregnant man! Just thinking about it is… exciting!” Hearing my taunt, Mike didn’t answer. He just sat there on the floor, refusing to move. Seeing this, I simply grabbed his ankles and started dragging him towards the door. Mike yelled, “Megan, let me go! Megan, I’m not going, do you hear me!” I acted like I couldn’t hear him, dragged him outside, and shoved him into the car. I used the seatbelts to strap his arms and legs down. Done, I dusted off my hands, feeling surprisingly satisfied. I couldn’t believe I’d just manhandled my over-six-foot, muscular husband like he weighed nothing. A grin spread across my face. Yeah, I was definitely starting to like this world. Under my duress, Mike “willingly” underwent an ultrasound and a urine test. The doctor confirmed it: Mike was pregnant. Having just arrived here, Mike couldn’t accept it. He grabbed the doctor’s hands desperately. “Doctor, you must be mistaken! I’m not even from this world! How could I possibly be pregnant?!” The doctor, a woman, pulled her hands free and shot me a disgusted look. “Control your man. Doesn’t he have any manners? Haven’t you trained him properly yet?” “Stupid bitch! What the hell did you just say! Say that again if you dare!” The doctor’s words set Mike off immediately. He started rolling up his sleeves like he was about to clock her one. The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed, her knuckles cracking as she clenched her fist. Before she could react, I yanked Mike back, slapped him across the face again, and clamped my hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Doctor. It must be his first pregnancy; he’s not quite himself. Please don’t mind him. Really, I’m so sorry.” With that, I dragged Mike out of the examination room as fast as I could. On the drive home, Mike, stuck in the back seat, kept yelling at me, “Megan, tell me how to get back to the real world! Now!” I ignored him, a secret smile playing on my lips. Go back? Not a chance! Now that I finally got you here to experience what I went through, you think I’m just going to let you go back easily? When I didn’t answer, Mike kept ranting, “Megan, you take me to get rid of this kid right now! If you don’t take me to get an abortion, I’ll kill you first, and then I’ll kill this… this thing!” Hearing that, something inside me snapped. Back in our world, he was always threatening to kill me. Now that he was in my power, he was still acting this arrogant? He was really asking for it. I slammed on the brakes, pulled over, yanked open the back door, and dragged Mike out of the car. He didn’t get it, thought maybe I was letting him go or taking him for the abortion. He yelled frantically, “Hurry the fuck up! Get rid of the kid and let me go back, or else—” I slapped him hard across the face, cutting him off mid-sentence. I grabbed his hair with one hand and used the other to hit his face again and again. As I hit him, I threw his own words back at him, “Son of a bitch! You ungrateful piece of shit! Give you an inch and you take a fucking mile! You goddamn bastard…” The more I hit, the better I felt. The more I cursed, the more satisfying it was. After more than ten slaps, I finally stopped. I looked at his slightly swollen cheek. I felt no guilt. I needed to beat some sense into him! Make him understand just how monstrous his actions were back in our world! “Mike Miller! What do you mean, ‘let you go back’? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t think being pregnant gives you a free pass to act crazy, understand? Or else, I’ll fucking kill you!” I even patted his swollen cheek as I said it. I noticed his body tremble slightly when my palm touched his face. Just like I used to tremble. Was he finally scared of me? The thought popped into my head. So, he was afraid of being hit…

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