I felt a gentle hand stroking my cheek. Was it my wife, Sarah? How could it be? Sarah died just a few days ago. My heart leaped in shock, and I forced my eyes open. Going from darkness to sudden light stung my eyes. I squinted, uncomfortable, but desperate to see the person by the bed. 1. She stood bathed in what felt like an explosion of white light, her form hazy, almost a silhouette. As the stinging faded and my vision cleared, her features sharpened. Delicate eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, and that habit of pressing her lips together slightly before breaking into a smile. It really was Sarah! Was she alive, or was I dead? Is this a dream? I stared, dumbfounded, at the living, breathing person before me. Then I heard her say, “It’s almost seven. Get up, Sleepyhead, Andy.” Sleepyhead, Andy. Hearing that familiar nickname, tears rolled down my cheeks without me even realizing it. I scrambled up and pulled my wife into a fierce hug. Through my own sobbing, I felt her warmth seep into me, heard her slightly exasperated voice asking what was wrong, right beside my ear. After a long moment, I managed to calm down. Right now, I couldn’t tell if Sarah dying in that plane crash was real, or just a terrible nightmare I’d had. I told her about it. She listened, laughing softly, then gently wiped the tears from my face— “You dream about what you worry about, huh? ‘Fess up, did you take out a big life insurance policy on me?” Hearing that, I laughed and pulled her close again, overwhelmed by the happiness of having her back, of loss reversed. I breathed in her familiar scent, sighing, “I was so scared of losing you…” Sarah patted my back comfortingly. “It was just a nightmare. You’re awake now, it’s okay.” She gently pulled away. “Come on, get up, or you’ll be late.” I grabbed my phone and checked the date again: December 5th, 2022, 7:03 AM. I vaguely remembered sitting by Sarah’s headstone, seeing the engraved letters. Sarah Miller (November 15, 1993 – December 5, 2022) A wave of confusion washed over me. …Was it really just a nightmare? I swung my legs out of bed and followed Sarah, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, then touch her hand. She turned and hugged me, resting her chin on my chest— “Andy, I would never, ever leave you like that. It was just a dream.” “When you wake up, the pain from the dream fades away. Can you even clearly remember how it felt now?” I tried hard to recall the feelings from the dream. Seeing the news about the missing plane, watching her casket… no, the container with her ashes being prepared for interment, sitting on the damp, cold ground staring at her grave marker. All that crushing grief… it was starting to feel distant, fuzzy. I slowly shook my head. Seeing me shake my head, Sarah slipped out of my arms and headed towards the kitchen. “Then hurry up and get ready! Breakfast is almost done. I made pancakes.” She stood at the kitchen doorway and gave me a playful wink. Shaking off the lingering confusion, I asked, “Did you use hot water for the mix, or cold?” Sarah hesitated. “Cold… water? Isn’t cold better for dissolving the powder?” I walked into the kitchen and lifted the lid off the pan on the stove. A puff of steam cleared to reveal… well, a soupy, slightly sad-looking pancake. She looked up at me sheepishly— “Whoops, sorry! I just thought since you were working late, I’d make breakfast so you could sleep in a bit longer.” Working late? Suddenly, I remembered a detail from the nightmare. In the dream, I’d also had to work late, forcing me to cancel my ticket. I couldn’t go with Sarah on the plane. That flight to Boston… I remembered it was at 2 PM. I walked to the kitchen doorway and looked into the living room. Just like in the dream, there was a half-packed, open suitcase lying next to the sofa. My voice urgent, I asked, “Is it the two o’clock flight?” Sarah looked at me, puzzled, but nodded. A cold dread started spreading from the pit of my stomach. Could the plane crash, just like in my dream, actually happen? 2 I told Sarah about the dream again, insisting, over and over, that it felt like a premonition. The same late-night work, the same suitcase by the sofa, the same flight time. At first, Sarah patiently tried to reason with me. She said I had it backward. The work, the flight, the suitcase – those were all things that were real before I went to sleep. My subconscious had just woven them into a nightmare. Her logic made me waver for a second. But I was still terrified. What if…? That tiny chance it could actually come true. So I kept trying to persuade her, until Sarah finally lost her patience. She yelled, “You’ve been watching too many Final Destination movies! A premonition? Yeah, right, a premonition about bubblegum!” I opened my mouth to argue again, but she shot me a look, frowning impatiently. “Go to work, or deal with me. Your choice.” I wanted to say more, but I stopped myself. Finally, with dignity, demonstrating sound judgment, I chose… to go to work. Sitting on the subway car, I kept thinking about what Sarah said, about the subconscious. Maybe it was just my subconscious playing tricks. But… I had this nagging feeling, a memory from the nightmare, something that happened after I fell asleep. Something from the morning of December 5th. Something I did before getting on this subway… I felt like it was crucial. But what was it? I couldn’t remember. The automated voice announcing the next stop broke my train of thought. The crowd surged out like a receding tide, leaving the car emptier. I looked out at the platform sign revealed as people dispersed: Tech Center West. My stop was next. I stood up and walked towards the door, watching the ads flicker past outside the window. My mind uncontrollably drifted back to the nightmare details. In the dream, after leaving the cemetery, I’d walked forever, unable find a bus stop. The rain got heavier, the cold seeped into my bones, and I stumbled, dazed, into a subway station I’d never seen near the cemetery before. It was a weird station – silent, cold, completely empty. Trains waited on both sides, but only the one on the left had its lights on, doors wide open, as if waiting just for me. Soaked from the rain, head throbbing, I hadn’t even bothered to check the station name before getting on. … My thoughts kept looping, giving me a splitting headache. Outside the window, the advertisements had vanished. The subway plunged into an unnatural, thick darkness. The car suddenly became silent, like sinking into the deep ocean. Then, in the endless darkness stretching ahead, a single beam of light appeared. And in the light… was a girl? She was dressed all in black, hair pulled back in a ponytail, facing my direction. I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I felt like that blurred face under the eerie light was glaring at me, furious. The scene from my dream was happening again! Fear froze me in place. Suddenly, a fragment of memory flashed through my mind. I remembered a detail. When Sarah called me from the airport gate to say she was okay, she mentioned running into someone she knew. Who was it? Right, the daughter of her parents’ neighbors, Brenda White. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. If Sarah ran into Brenda White at the gate this afternoon… then I absolutely could not let Sarah get on that plane. 3 Even though I’d made up my mind, I couldn’t focus at work. I fidgeted anxiously, barely able to sit still, until finally, lunchtime arrived. I choked down a few bites of food, then rushed out of the cafeteria, found a quiet corner, and dialed Sarah’s number. It rang for a long time before she picked up. I could faintly hear the noise of the airport terminal in the background. I quickly asked if she’d gotten her ticket okay, if the trip to the airport was fine, standard stuff. Then I got straight to the point: had she run into anyone she knew? “Someone I know? Who?” “Brenda White?” “Brenda?” Her voice sounded distant; I guessed she was looking around. After a moment, her voice came back clear. “Nope, haven’t seen her. Who told you she was flying back to Boston today too?” This was different from the dream. A wave of relief washed over me; the huge weight I’d been carrying lifted. I chuckled to myself, thinking, Seriously, believing in nightmares? Maybe I have watched Final Destination too many times. I mumbled some excuse about hearing it from someone, changed the subject, chatted for a few more minutes, and then hung up. That afternoon, I threw myself into my work. Just as I finished color-correcting a video and started the rendering process, I noticed the office had descended into a low buzz of chatter. Confused, I pulled out my phone. No signal. Somehow, it had been switched to airplane mode. The last message I’d received was from Sarah. “Just asked Brenda. She is going back to Boston today, but couldn’t get a plane ticket, so she’s taking the train instead.” I switched off airplane mode, reconnected to the Wi-Fi, and was about to reply when Mike from the next cubicle leaned over. “Andy, you seen the news? The afternoon flight to Boston… it’s gone missing.” I froze. I heard something shatter inside my head. “The flight… to Boston?” “Yeah, the one that left at two. Flight number was…” He scrolled on his phone for a second, then looked up at me, his eyes wide— “Holy crap, Andy! That was the flight I couldn’t get tickets for! I was just bitching about having to work late because I couldn’t get on it… Man, am I lucky—” I slowly stood up, the room spinning around me. All the emotions, all the memories, rushed back at once. I remembered identifying Sarah’s… what was left of her body, the rage I felt. Watching her become nothing but a box of ashes, the utter despair. How could I have risked it? How could I have let myself hope, only to watch Sarah walk towards death again? The helplessness inside me exploded. I bolted towards the office door, pushing with all my might against the heavy glass, and then— ice-cold water slammed into me. The force knocked me back, forcing me to let go of the door handle. Standing behind the glass door was a girl. Dressed in black, ponytail. I looked at her furrowed brow, heard her cold voice muffled through the glass— “Why did you let her get on the plane again?” 4 I sat bolt upright, gasping for air. As oxygen filled my lungs and my senses slowly returned, I felt sticky, drenched in sweat. A hand was rubbing my back, a voice murmuring softly near my ear. “Sarah?!” My voice came out raspy. She answered, leaning in to hug me. Tears instantly flooded my eyes. I remembered the girl in black who’d splashed water on me just before I woke up, how she’d dragged me into that empty subway station. As the subway started moving and my consciousness faded, I heard her say: “Don’t let her get on the plane again.” The plane? Right! The plane that had killed Sarah twice now. I pulled away from Sarah’s embrace and fumbled for my phone. The date displayed: December 5th, 2022, 7:03 AM. I was back again. On the morning of the day Sarah died. I looked at Sarah, saw the worried, sympathetic look on her face as she asked, “Bad dream?” I nodded automatically. Honestly, whether she knew the truth or not didn’t matter right now. What mattered was keeping her off that plane. No matter what. Sarah waited until I seemed calmer, then went back to the kitchen to finish the pancakes. Urged by her, I went into the bathroom. Brushing my teeth, I tried to figure out how to stop Sarah from getting on that flight. There seemed to be two options. One: stop Sarah from going to Boston altogether. Two: get her to use a different mode of transportation. The first option was basically impossible. Sarah was going to Boston because her younger brother, Ben, who was still in high school, had beaten up one of his teachers. He’d injured the teacher so badly the man was in a coma, hadn’t woken up yet. But Ben had also gotten stabbed by the teacher in the fight and was currently laid up in the hospital himself. When the police investigated who started it, Ben initially claimed the teacher had done something absolutely disgusting, and he’d only fought back to protect a girl. According to the investigation, besides the two of them, there was a middle-school-aged girl present at the scene. But when the police found the girl, she denied being there at all. And then, weirdly, as soon as Ben heard the girl denied being there, he completely changed his story too. He stopped mentioning protecting the girl. He just said he hit the guy out of a sense of justice, that his conscience was clear. Beyond that, he refused to say another word. Now, the teacher’s family was suing Ben for assault and battery, maybe even aggravated assault. The teacher was still in a coma, unable to give his side. But from talking to people who knew him, the teacher seemed like a quiet, well-mannered guy, well-liked, with a great reputation. Ben was eighteen. If he didn’t start telling the truth, things looked really bad for him. If he got convicted of felony assault, his life would be ruined. Ben’s parents were frantic, like ants on a hot pan. They kept calling us, begging us to come home and talk some sense into Ben, while also pressuring Ben to just tell the truth. But nothing worked. Ben just clammed up, repeating, “My conscience is clear.” We were worried sick about Ben too. We’d called him several times, tried reasoning with him, but got nowhere. Sarah was so stressed she couldn’t sleep at night. Meanwhile, the project I was on was nearing its deadline, and my boss wouldn’t approve any time off. Sarah was teaching a senior class heading towards graduation; finding a substitute teacher to cover for her was impossible. Finally, just two days ago, she managed to arrange for someone to cover her classes and got three days off. Telling her not to go back now? Absolutely no way. So, option one was out. I started thinking about option two.

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My boyfriend dumped me. Funny thing, the guy at the table next to us just got dumped by his girlfriend. Talk about fate. I immediately slapped the table, ready to drag this guy down to City Hall? The guy looked up, and—even funnier— 1 “Nora, we need to break up.” Today was the seventh anniversary of when Ethan and I got together. But the second I sat down, those were the words I heard. I looked up, barely believing it, staring at the familiar face across from me. We’d already decided to get married by the end of the year. I thought he asked me here to propose, not to break up? “Why?” My vision blurred. My voice came out hoarse. “I just don’t love you anymore.” Ethan said it so bluntly, so matter-of-factly. I couldn’t even see a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “You jerk! We’re done!” Before I could even process the hit, the woman at the next table grabbed her water glass and threw it right in the face of the man sitting opposite her. Well, I thought, guess today’s a popular day for breaking up all over the world. I stood up, looked Ethan straight in the eye, and said, “Fine.” I don’t know what possessed me, but right there in front of him, I walked over to the guy who just got soaked. “Hey handsome, getting dumped on the same day? Must be fate. How about we just cut our losses and get married?” The drenched guy turned his head, his eyes holding an expression I couldn’t quite read. When I got a clear look at his face, I froze. Damn it! Why is today so unlucky? This was Caleb freaking Moore. The guy I crushed on hard back in high school, captain of the basketball team. The same guy who, when I confessed my feelings in a letter, basically told me I was way out of his league. The untouchable golden boy. Apparently, even golden boys get dumped? I didn’t expect him to agree, but then he actually— “Okay,” Caleb said, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Even soaking wet, he was ridiculously good-looking. The moment he said it, Ethan’s face turned sheet white, then an ugly shade of purple. I walked back over, linked my arm through Caleb’s, and shot Ethan a defiant look over my shoulder. Then, bold as brass, I walked out with my new “boyfriend.” Walking out of that restaurant, I felt like a proud swan myself. But the second we stepped outside, I instantly deflated back into a frog. “Thanks for that. I owe you dinner sometime.” Caleb glanced sideways at me. “So, you weren’t actually serious about that marriage proposal?” “…” “When exactly is ‘sometime’?” I pressed my lips together, gave him a frantic, dismissive wave, turned, and ran. Seriously? Seven years of my life, down the drain just like that. He says “I don’t love you anymore,” and it’s over. And the ‘golden boy’ who once shot me down so brutally? No way was I getting tangled up with him again. 2: Nora, Don’t Cry I bought booze and called my best friend, Chloe, for a session to mourn my dead relationship. Ethan, that absolute dog. He was the one who said he loved me. Now he’s the one saying he doesn’t. But back then, he was also the one who jumped into that river without a second thought to save me. How could just a few years change everything so much that he could toss me aside like this? Tears just kept streaming down my face. “Nora, don’t cry.” Chloe looked at me sympathetically. “I told you from the start, getting together was kind of rushed. That whole ‘damsel in distress falls for her rescuer’ thing is straight out of a bad romance novel, you know?” “Ugh, I’m not even that sad,” I croaked, my voice thick with self-pity. “I just feel like I dated him for years and didn’t even get any good perks out of it. What a rip-off.” Okay, that part was true. Ethan wasn’t bad-looking, just a notch below my old crush, Caleb. “Good thing you didn’t ‘get any perks’,” Chloe quipped. “What if he was bad in bed? Then you’d really feel ripped off, right?” Chloe always knew how to hit the nail on the head. Just then, my phone buzzed violently. I picked it up. It was a picture message from an unknown number. A photo of Ethan with his arm around some woman, heading into a hotel. From the back. The room number was crystal clear, practically burning my eyes. Wasn’t this just a slap in the face? Furious, I downed the rest of my drink, my eyes wide. Chloe was just as outraged. “Well, I’ll be damned! So it wasn’t that he couldn’t perform? Turns out he just couldn’t perform with you!” “Chloe.” “Yeah?” “I can’t let this go.” “Alright, girl. Let’s go get some payback!” We were instantly on the same page, hailing a cab straight to the hotel. 3: I’m Serving Justice! Standing outside the hotel room door, fists clenched, I reared back and kicked the door—hard. Thump! The door didn’t budge, but Ethan heard the noise and opened it. Seeing me, his eyes widened with obvious confusion and panic. Seven years, and this was the first time I’d ever seen him look like that. So, the whole “I don’t love you anymore” was bullshit. Cheating was the real reason! “Nora? What are you doing here?” Ethan physically blocked the doorway. I glanced at Chloe beside me. Best friends: useful in times of crisis! Chloe immediately understood, lunging forward and grabbing Ethan’s arm. “Nora, get in there! Ethan, if you dare push me, I’ll scream bloody murder!” While Ethan was flustered, I quickly ducked under his arm and slipped inside. The room was empty. The large bed was pristine. But I could hear the distinct sound of a shower running in the bathroom. I marched straight to the bathroom and threw the door open— Inside, sure enough, was a woman with fair skin! Seeing the woman showering inside, my brain just exploded. Deception! Betrayal! All these emotions mixed with heartbreak shattered inside me like ice. “Nora Zhao, are you crazy?” Ethan, seeing what happened, shoved Chloe aside forcefully and rushed towards the bathroom, clumsily shielding the woman behind him. I just stood there, staring at the cheating pair, watching their faces shift from pale green to white, then flush red with anger and embarrassment. “Nora Zhao, you… I…” Suddenly, I realized the woman looked familiar. Ha! Of course. It was the same woman who dumped the ‘golden boy’ just yesterday. Ethan getting involved with his partner? Was that a coincidence? Thinking about it, that anonymous text message suddenly made sense. It must have come from him. Caleb. Looking closer, I noticed the woman’s features, especially her eyes, were slightly similar to mine. Curved, just like mine. I laughed bitterly. “Ethan, is it because of her? Seven years, you just throw it away? Was I just her stand-in the whole time in your eyes?” Asking this, I felt like I’d hit the truth. My voice was trembling. Ethan didn’t answer, just couldn’t meet my eyes. His evasiveness felt like an admission. I lunged forward, smack, smack, landing two hard slaps across his handsome face. When I went for a third, he grabbed my wrist. I don’t know what I said that set him off, but he gripped my hand tightly and dragged me forcefully out the door. Chloe tried to argue, but he shoved her out too. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, unleashing all my fury. Damn it! That cheating bastard used me for seven years, and now he thinks he’s justified?! “Ethan, get your ass out here!” “Ethan, you bastard! Who the hell do you think you are? Playing substitute games with me?” “Ethan, come out, you spineless, cheating scumbag!” I hammered on the door with all my might, but Ethan stayed hidden like a turtle in its shell. Chloe pulled me into a hug. “Nora, that’s enough. Let’s go home first. He’s clearly got no shame left. We’ll figure out how to get even later.” I took deep, ragged breaths. “Chloe, you’re right. We messed up earlier. We should have brought baseball bats before coming into the hotel. I should have used that jerk’s head for batting practice!” Under the curious and gossipy stares of everyone around, Chloe dragged me out of the hotel. Back at my place, she sighed and hugged me again. “If you really need to cry, just let it out. We did just waste seven years of your youth.” I’d already cried all my tears outside the hotel. Right now, I just wanted to be alone, to cool down. I went to my room and threw myself onto the bed, venting my frustration. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone—a message request on a social app. I glanced at the request message: It’s Caleb Moore. Figured it was him. I accepted the request. But I didn’t message him first. Instead, he sent a message: Saw it? Finding out you were cheated on right after the breakup? Must hurt, huh? Pot, meet kettle, I thought. Finding out you were cheated on then getting dumped isn’t much different from my situation, is it? “Yep,” I replied curtly. Caleb, however, didn’t seem fazed by being cheated on. He started a video call. On screen, he was wearing a crisp white shirt, looking as composed and elegant as ever. So, swans and frogs really are different. Even after being humiliated, a swan’s inherent confidence is unshakable. “What do you really want?” I couldn’t help but ask. He smiled. “Want to get even?” I hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Are you suggesting we team up? To get revenge on this lovely pair?” “Yep,” he replied, mimicking my earlier tone. His smile was devastatingly charming. Then, his lips moved as he slowly told me a little story. That’s when I learned that he and Ethan were childhood friends, grew up together. And apparently, whatever Caleb liked, Ethan also liked. Back in high school, Ethan had already stolen a girl Caleb was interested in. This time, he was just using the same old playbook. And according to Caleb, his situation was even worse than mine. He and the woman had only kissed twice in their entire relationship. Then Ethan swooped in, and boom – she was pregnant. The reason Caleb showed up at the restaurant yesterday was because he suspected he was being cheated on and went there to catch them in the act. He hadn’t expected to walk right into my breakup scene with Ethan. The woman had apparently been sitting at a nearby table the whole time, planning to watch my entire breakup unfold. But when Caleb arrived, she got defensive and, in a fit of pique, threw the water in his face. After hearing all this, I actually felt calmer. Lying on my bed, memories of Ethan flooded my mind, but all I felt was indignation, no sense of loss. And so, almost on autopilot, I replied to Caleb with a single word: “Okay.” Even if Ethan had some twisted reason for pursuing me relentlessly back then, the fact remained: he played with my heart for seven years. That was undeniable. Besides, his habit of stealing other people’s partners just to prove a point? That needed to stop. This wasn’t revenge. This was… serving justice!

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My boyfriend, Ethan, is dead. They pulled his body from the river. My roommate, Jessica, said I couldn’t handle seeing him like that. Said I just… passed out. Except… When I woke up, I’d lost my memory of that entire day. The doctor called it selective amnesia. Said the shock was too much, that my mind refused to accept the reality of it. The police closed the case quickly. Just another tragic suicide, they said. My roommates keep telling me to face facts, but I can’t trust them. Not really. Because deep down, I suspect every single one of them could have been the one who killed my boyfriend. To find the truth, I started digging, piece by piece. And in the end, I uncovered the earth-shattering secret Ethan had been hiding. 1. Ethan Cole and I had been together for two years. I fell for him the second I saw him freshman year. Fell hard. I went after him relentlessly, and it didn’t take long to win him over. Nobody thought we’d last. Ethan was the golden boy, Northwood University’s campus king, always top of his class in Law School. He turned heads everywhere he went. And me? Sarah Jenkins. About as plain as my name suggests. Average looks, average grades. Even when I started chasing him, I was mostly just shooting my mouth off, trying to impress my friends. Even I was shocked when he actually chose me. After we got together, the campus forums were buzzing. People started betting pools on how long we’d last. Three days, some said. A week. The longest bet was a month. They all lost. Nobody predicted we’d make it three whole years. We went from having zero supporters to being voted the campus forum’s favorite couple. Our bond just kept getting stronger. Ethan was incredibly thoughtful, always putting me first. He loved burying his face in my neck, telling me how good I smelled, a scent I couldn’t even detect myself. He couldn’t handle spicy food; I loved it. Every time we ate out, he’d order mine extra hot, wincing but never complaining. Whenever I got mad, right or wrong, he’d apologize first, curling up against me, breathing in my scent. I hated studying. Before every final, he’d patiently tutor me. Thanks to him, I never failed a single class. We even got each other’s names tattooed on our collarbones. It was Ethan’s idea. Ethan was always so cheerful. The day before he died, he was talking about us getting married right after graduation, dreaming about our future together. I was ecstatic. He really, truly loved me. I only had one more year until I could marry him. But now… he’s dead. I just don’t believe Ethan would kill himself. I asked the cops if maybe he just accidentally drowned. They just patted my shoulder, saying lots of couples hang out down by Whisper Creek, that the safety rails are solid, inspected regularly. No way he just slipped. Based on the footprints, they said, he jumped. I don’t buy it. They just wanted an easy case closure. Ethan was murdered. I know it. I begged the police to reopen the case, pleaded with them. They just kept saying the conclusion was clear, urging me to accept it. I feel so helpless. 2 Back in the dorm, I felt hollowed out, just drifting through the days. Jessica Vance started acting weirdly nice to me, which was… strange. Jessica’s my roommate. And one of my many romantic rivals. Like me, Jessica fell for Ethan freshman year. We were basically competing from day one. Her family’s loaded. She was always trying to give Ethan expensive sneakers and stuff, but he never took anything. The moment Ethan and I got together, things got ugly between Jessica and me. I knitted Ethan a scarf once. She called it pathetic and cheap. The next day, Ethan wore it to class. Sometimes I’d get back to the dorm late, and she’d ‘accidentally’ lock me out. Even after Ethan and I had been together forever, she still openly hit on him. Never gave me the time of day unless it was a sneer. Ethan, thankfully, ignored her completely. But after he died, she started being… considerate. Hovering, bringing me food. At first, I figured she just felt bad seeing me so broken. I didn’t suspect a thing. Until I finally looked at Ethan’s phone. His passcode was my birthday. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to open it before. But the longing was too much. I logged into his messages, reading his texts to me from his perspective, laughing through tears one minute, sobbing the next. I was the only contact pinned to the top. As I backed out of our chat, I saw Jessica’s name right below mine. Something felt wrong. My finger hovered, then tapped. The messages loaded. It was Jessica, asking Ethan to meet her down by Whisper Creek. The time? Nine p.m. on the night he died. The coroner put his time of death around midnight. Jessica met him just three hours before he supposedly jumped? What did they talk about? Why didn’t she say anything? My breath hitched. My hands started shaking. She never mentioned meeting him that night. Not once. Rage boiled up inside me. I stormed back into our dorm room, phone in hand, confronting her. “Why didn’t you tell me you met Ethan that night?” Jessica was alone in the room. When she saw the chat log on my phone screen, the color drained from her face. Pure panic. “I… I just confessed my feelings again,” she stammered, her eyes darting around, refusing to meet mine. “Just like all the other times. He turned me down flat, and I left. I swear, Sarah, I have no idea why he killed himself after that.” Jessica was never this flustered around me. Usually, she was all arrogance and disdain. This guilty act proved she was hiding something. I slammed the door shut and locked it, stalking towards her. “What did you really say to him? Why did he jump? You want me to blast these messages all over the campus forum?” I backed her towards the balcony window. She looked like she was about to shatter. Suddenly, she crumpled to the floor, kneeling in front of me. “I just wanted to know more about him,” she sobbed. “So… so I dug into his family background.” I knew Ethan was an orphan. He never talked about his parents much. What did his family have to do with his death? Jessica continued, her voice trembling, “When he was ten, his father, Grant Cole, drowned himself. Jumped off a bridge. Then, when Ethan was sixteen, his mother, Linda, drowned too… in the bathtub at home.” A chill went down my spine. Drowning? Both of them? Why that specific way? Ethan never told me his parents died like that. He was always so optimistic, so full of life. How could someone carry that kind of tragedy and still be so… sunny? It felt like Ethan had a whole secret life I knew nothing about. “After his dad died,” Jessica choked out, “his mom was in a car accident. Lost the use of one leg. Then she killed herself too. I knew Ethan had it rough. I just… I wanted to help him. That night, I met him and… I offered him money. A lot of money. Said I’d give it to him regularly if he’d just… spend a few days a month with me.” I almost laughed. It was pathetic. Ethan? The proud, brilliant Ethan Cole? Agreeing to be her paid companion? Impossible. Jessica pulled out a stack of photos. “He refused, obviously. Said he only loved you. I knew he did. So… I showed him these. The stuff I found out about his parents. I wanted to break him down, shatter that pride of his. He got furious when he saw them. Really angry. Then I just… left.” She was crying hard now. “Sarah, I swear, I don’t know why he killed himself! It wasn’t my fault! Please, just let this go. Don’t drag me into it.” She actually looked like she was telling the truth, mostly just terrified of being implicated. My head was spinning. “Get out,” I choked out, pointing to the door. “Just… get out!” Jessica scrambled to her feet, a mess, and stumbled towards the door. But just before she left, she turned back, her eyes suddenly dark and cold. “Before I left,” she whispered, her voice low and chilling, “Ethan said it was a curse. Sarah, I’m warning you. Stop digging. You don’t know who the curse will hit next.” 3 I didn’t understand what Jessica meant by a curse. I numbly picked up the photos she’d dropped. Ethan’s bright smile stared back at me from the first few pictures, taken freshman year. I remembered exactly what he was doing in each one. Then I saw photos from his high school days, pictures I’d never seen before. I tried to piece together the boy he was before I knew him. Suddenly, I flipped to a photo of a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Didn’t look much like Ethan. I didn’t pay much attention and flipped again. Same boy. Confused, I kept going. The next dozen photos were all of this kid, from childhood up to his teens. I looked closer. There was… maybe a flicker of Ethan in the eyes, the shape of the jaw? A wild thought started forming in my mind. Could this boy be Ethan? No way. Ethan was the campus heartthrob, classically handsome. This kid in the photos… objectively speaking, even by normal standards, he wasn’t attractive at all. Then I found another photo: the boy being held by his mother. She was stunning, a vibrant beauty with a radiant smile, but you could see one of her legs seemed… off, maybe disabled. In contrast, the boy in her arms looked miserable, practically scowling. Was this Ethan’s mother? Was this awkward, unhappy kid really him? Jessica’s words echoed in my head. The drowning deaths… the curse… I felt a wave of goosebumps. What had Ethan been hiding from me? Three years together, and suddenly, I felt like I didn’t know his past at all. The mystery of Ethan’s secrets pulled at me, but I had no leads. Life had to go on, somehow. With Ethan gone, I started to change. I began avoiding spicy food, like him. I caught myself mimicking his little habits, the way he’d run a hand through his hair. I finally started focusing on my studies, really applying myself. It wasn’t as hard as I thought. If Ethan could see me now, hitting the books, he’d be so happy. I held onto Ethan’s phone like a lifeline, scrolling through his old messages, his posts. Every chat with his friends, every casual comment, radiated his love for me. Today, scrolling through his social media feed, I noticed someone strange. Their profile picture was just a single period: “.” No name, just the punctuation mark. Their latest post was simple text: Third month without you. I miss you so much. A weird feeling washed over me. It felt like it was meant for Ethan. I’d never seen this profile before. Ethan hadn’t tagged them or interacted publicly. On impulse, I clicked on their profile. It was filled with posts, almost daily entries, pouring out grief and longing for someone lost. I scrolled back, further and further. Then I saw it. A photo. It was Ethan. Standing by Whisper Creek, looking out over the water. It looked like a candid shot, taken from nearby. The timestamp: September 7th, 9:48 PM. The night he died. My heart pounded. This meant someone else was there after Jessica left. I opened a direct message. Who are you? No reply. Silence. Frustrated, I went back to scrolling through their feed, desperate for clues. The feed was almost entirely about Ethan. Pictures of him on campus, in the library, laughing with friends. Some scenes felt familiar… too familiar. Scenes where I had been with him. But I wasn’t in these photos. Just Ethan. It felt like this person was a stalker. Someone I probably knew. Then it hit me. I looked closer at the photos where the background was clearer. There was a common denominator in many of the pictures taken when I was also present. Someone else was often there too: my other roommate, Megan Riley. Megan came from a small rural town. She was always shy, timid, kind of faded into the background. I was pretty much the only one in the dorm who made an effort to befriend her. When Jessica used to lock me out, it was always Megan who eventually let me in. Over time, she became my closest friend in the dorm. She didn’t have many other friends, so sometimes, when Ethan and I went out, I’d invite her along. Megan was pretty in a quiet, mousy way, very introverted. Plenty of guys had asked her out over the years, but she’d always said no. I used to wonder why she never dated. Now I knew. Megan was in love with Ethan. And I’d had absolutely no idea. She must have added him using this anonymous account way back freshman year. I could tell it was her style, her quiet obsession. Ethan must have known too. Why didn’t he ever tell me? A sickening thought crept in: Was Ethan cheating on me?

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My college boyfriend, Ethan Vance, became a pop idol in some new boy band. I went to LAX to meet his flight, like a fan. He took the flowers I brought and tossed them straight into the nearest trash can. A year later, I became the president of the entertainment company he was signed to. “I want the lead role in Director King’s new movie,” he begged, kneeling on the floor, starting to pull off his shirt, his eyes pleading. I let out a small laugh, pushing his face away dismissively with the toe of my high heel. “Go shovel manure for six months, then we’ll talk.” 1. My ex-boyfriend, Ethan Vance, made his debut. I found out from Sophia, my roommate. Sophia is obsessed with celebrities, a total fangirl. This morning at ten, she spent a solid ten minutes screaming in our dorm about her latest obsession. Finally, out of breath, she just kept repeating like a broken record: “Aiden, oh my god, he’s so hot, so hot!!” “Wait, I thought you were into boy bands? When did you start following European stars?” I teased casually from the side. “He’s not European!” Sophia instantly shot up. “He’s American! His real name is Ethan Vance!” Ethan Vance… seriously? The same name as my college ex? Turns out, it wasn’t just the same name. It was him. Later, grabbing dinner, I walked past Sophia’s laptop and glanced over. She was watching a live stream. The guy on screen, with bleached hair, holding a mic, singing and dancing his heart out. Wasn’t that my ex-boyfriend, Ethan Vance? 2. We dated for a year in college. He was gorgeous, tall, athletic. When he played basketball, his white t-shirt would sometimes ride up, showing a sliver of his waist, making girls on the sidelines swoon. I never dreamed someone like him would date me. My style was pretty basic, my grades were average, nothing special about me, really. But somehow, we ended up together. He’d bring me coffee and a bagel on cold winter mornings before my 8 AM class. He’d buy me iced tea to cool down during the scorching heat of club recruitment week. He’d run laps with me, rain or shine, when I was struggling to meet the required campus miles for PE. But we still broke up eventually. It was Valentine’s Day. I gave him a gift that cost me about a hundred dollars. He squinted, holding the watch I gave him between his fingers like it was something disgusting. He didn’t even bother with a polite thank you. He broke up with me right after he got back to his dorm. His reason? I was too cheap. He couldn’t accept such an inexpensive gift. But the truth was, that watch cost me nearly a month’s worth of my food budget. My family wasn’t well off; he was always decked out in designer labels. Our financial situations were worlds apart. Looking back, the breakup wasn’t surprising. I calmly agreed to it at the time. But even two years later, I realized I still wasn’t completely over him. Maybe because he was my first love, maybe because he was just that good-looking, maybe because no guy had ever treated me that well before. Whatever the reason, I definitely still had feelings for him. 3. When he came to LA to film a show, I went to the airport to meet him, pretending to be just another fan. It was July, brutally hot. As soon as he walked out of the gate, the crowd surged forward. I was crammed in with a bunch of other fans, my t-shirt soaked with sweat, sticking completely to my back. Security guards formed a circle around him, pushing back the fans who got too close. He was wearing a suit, gold-rimmed glasses, looking polished and polite as he accepted gifts awkwardly handed to him by fans. Including the bouquet of flowers I brought. The entertainment industry’s packaging had made him even more elegant and handsome than he was in college. For a fleeting moment, I even thought about trying to get back together with him. Until I saw a bouquet of flowers in an airport trash can. I knew it was mine because the note I’d written was still tucked inside. Written from the perspective of a devoted fan, not an ex-girlfriend. July, nearly a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, but I suddenly felt ice-cold, right down to my bones. I felt like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing onto a nearby bench, wondering why I had even come. To see him, just for a second, I’d taken time off work, endured the blazing sun, paid for an expensive cab ride rushed to the airport. All to give him a bouquet of flowers. And he couldn’t even be bothered to take them with him, just tossed them in the trash. 4. I was bummed out for days. My work performance tanked. Sophia thought I’d had a bad breakup. I could only laugh bitterly, “Who’d even be interested in me?” Yeah, who? The Ethan Vance of today certainly wouldn’t look twice at me. What were flowers I bought for a hundred bucks to him? Probably no different than scrap metal. To try and cheer myself up, I decided to go out for some late-night BBQ. It was hot out, but the food truck scene was lively. I picked a popular spot near my apartment. I hadn’t taken more than a few bites when some guy dressed kind of weird asked if he could share my small table. The owner apologized profusely, saying they were packed and there were no other spots, asking if I minded. I’m pretty introverted, but looking around, the place was jammed. The only empty stool was across from me. Since the owner had already asked, it felt rude to refuse, so I agreed, and the guy sat down. That single agreement turned out to be a huge mistake. 5. Paparazzi snapped photos of me and the guy from the BBQ truck, and suddenly, I was splashed across gossip sites as his girlfriend. Yes, the weirdly dressed guy turned out to be an idol. Even more absurdly, he was Jax Colton, a member of Momentum. Momentum – the very same boy band Ethan was in. A hot idol supposedly having a girlfriend, whether there was proof or not, is always a major blow to their image. I watched in horror as the hashtag #JaxColtonBBQGirlfriend climbed the trending charts. The comments section was already filling up with angry fans ditching him. Panicked, I quickly made a new burner social media account to set the record straight. My denial actually seemed to work. The paparazzi only had pictures of us eating near each other, nothing even remotely romantic. Jax’s management team quickly provided solid evidence debunking the rumors. The online narrative shifted rapidly. Relieved, I closed my laptop… 6. Nobody expected the curveball that came next. Jax Colton did have a real girlfriend. Worse, she believed the paparazzi’s flimsy story. I watched, stunned, as she started leaking scandalous, intimate photos of Jax. She also threw shade online, vaguely warning me not to pick up someone else’s trash. My blood pressure skyrocketed. This situation was spiraling way beyond my control. My DMs filled up with messages from strangers trying to pry information out of me. Whispers and weird looks followed me at the office. Within a week, I was drowning in an endless flood of online drama and real-world gossip. Feeling overwhelmed, I chose to quit my job. Quitting a job in LA without another lined up takes guts. But I got lucky. Just two days after I resigned, Someone contacted me, saying they wanted to offer me a position. Seeing the familiar number on my phone screen, I hesitated. Ethan Vance… 7. Ultimately, I answered the call. He said he wanted to offer me a job. “How did you know I quit?” I asked, suspicious. “Heh,” a dismissive, contemptuous sound came through the phone. “You caused such a huge scandal, your whole life story is practically online now thanks to the fans digging.” “I didn’t cause anything!” I shot back angrily. “It was the paparazzi taking things out of context! Besides, with all this stuff about me out there, you think you’re totally safe?” “Are you threatening me?” His voice turned cold instantly. “My PR team isn’t incompetent.” “I could leak stuff about you too… just like your bandmate’s girlfriend did.” “Go ahead,” his voice was so dark it made me shiver. “You leak anything, and I’ll make sure you find out what it feels like to be ripped apart by the entire internet.” Even though it was scorching hot outside, a sudden chill ran down my spine. “What kind of job are you offering me?” I steered the conversation back to the point. “Personal assistant to an artist… interested?” “You want me to wait on you?” My voice jumped an octave. “So you can torture me more conveniently?” “Like I need you to wait on me?” The mockery in his voice was barely disguised. “It’s for a different idol, a rising star. Interested or not?” I had zero experience as a PA, let alone for a job offered by Ethan, which sounded suspiciously like a trap. But I needed to make a living. So, I tentatively agreed. I’d go interview at Apex Entertainment in a few days.

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My husband cheated on me. And my dog was the one who helped me find out. … I have a dog named Ghost. One day, when Ethan came home, Ghost rushed up and started sniffing obsessively at Ethan’s coat, circling him again and again. I even laughed and said, “What’s got you so worked up? Smell another dog on him?” Ethan just chuckled and told me I was imagining things. But then, for the next several days, Ghost did the same thing every time Ethan walked in. My gut told me. Something wasn’t right. Even when I finally learned the truth, I couldn’t believe it. He didn’t just have one affair going on; he had multiple partners. One of them had even had his child aborted after getting pregnant. His reaction to all this? He wanted “peaceful coexistence.” He even had the audacity to tell me: “I’m just doing what a lot of guys dream about doing. Lighten up, Rach. All men are like this.” Yeah, right. If I let him get away with this, I’d be betraying every ounce of self-respect I have. … I married Ethan back then mostly because he was incredibly good-looking. You hear people say, find a handsome boyfriend, so even when you fight, looking at his face makes it harder to stay mad. That was honestly my thinking when I decided I wanted a guy like that. But I met a few guys, and none of them clicked. Then, a chance encounter brought me to Ethan. It was a company trade show. I was head of PR, overseeing our booth, making sure everything went smoothly with our partners. I’d been so busy I barely ate all day. My blood sugar crashed, and I started to sway. Suddenly, someone caught me, steadying me and pressing a piece of candy into my hand. “Skipped breakfast rushing here, huh? Have some sugar, take it easy.” It was Ethan. I fell for him, right then and there. At the company dinner that night, he coincidentally ended up sitting next to me. “Eating something that spicy on an empty stomach will wreck you. You’ll regret it tomorrow,” he said, stopping my hand just as I was about to dive into the spicy Szechuan dish. Chatting after that felt completely natural. We talked a lot about work collaborations. He was articulate, and I really admired his perspectives on the industry. We exchanged numbers – well, added each other on social media. After that, he asked me out a few times. He was so thoughtful. He’d always make reservations, pull out my chair, specifically ask if I was feeling okay having cold drinks, and serve me food. He remembered everything I liked. When he started pursuing me seriously, it felt like a dream. Because I was five years older than him, and honestly, I was overweight. I asked him why he chose me. He looked at me intensely. “Love is just… one of those mysterious things. I just like you.” “You don’t think I’m fat?” He leaned in close, whispering so his warm breath tickled my ear, “Not at all. I love curvy girls. More to hold onto.” Nobody can easily refuse a confession from a young, handsome guy like that. I certainly couldn’t. I was completely swept off my feet. During our relationship, I definitely made my girlfriends jealous. But they all said Ethan seemed too good to be true. “No guy is that considerate. He knows exactly how to handle women, like he’s been trained.” “Either he has a sister he totally dotes on, or he’s got a ton of experience with women.” “Bullshit! No way!” I argued with my friends. “He just loves me! That’s what love looks like! Besides, what could he possibly want from me? Aren’t I the one who’s lucky to have him and his good looks?” “Alright, alright. Fine. A girl drunk on love… whatever, sis, I’m not jealous!” My friends couldn’t win the argument, so they let it go, muttering that we wouldn’t last. But we did last. And even more, he was the one who proposed. Yes, on our one-year anniversary, he asked me to marry him. 2 It was Christmas Day. Snow was falling everywhere, looking like something out of a movie, when he got down on one knee. “Rachel, marry me.” Maybe it was the beauty of the snow, but I couldn’t resist. I threw myself into his arms, hugging his neck tightly. I saw my own reflection in his eyes. “Yes!” Ethan came from a rural part of Appalachia. His family had three boys, his father passed away early, and his mother raised them all on her own. It was clearly a tough upbringing. Me? I was from New York City, born and bred. My parents were business owners, I was an only child, and life had always been comfortable. My parents didn’t approve of the marriage. But I was stubborn, head over heels in love. I cried, threw tantrums, pretended to go on a hunger strike – I pulled out every dramatic trick in the book. My mom eventually caved. My dad still wasn’t happy. But he stopped actively trying to prevent it. … On February 14th, 2019 – Valentine’s Day – we got married. He hadn’t been working long and couldn’t afford a place in the city yet. I didn’t care. I was overjoyed to marry him. On our wedding night, wrapped in his arms, he whispered promises in my ear. “Rachel, believe in me. I swear I’ll give you a good life. I’ll make your parents proud.” I hugged him tighter and nodded. “I believe you.” I felt like I’d found the greatest happiness imaginable. Life after the wedding was good. I was basically waited on hand and foot. We rented a small apartment, about 600 square feet, one bedroom. We both worked hard on our careers, side-by-side. Our companies even collaborated, and I used every connection and resource I had to help him build his network quickly. He didn’t disappoint. He climbed the ladder, getting promoted steadily, doing well at his company. His colleagues seemed to really like him. Ghost came into our lives because one of those colleagues was moving and couldn’t take the dog. So, I took him in. 3 Ethan and I made a deal. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, I’d walk the dog. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, he would. Of course, most of the time, I ended up doing it. Because Ethan’s job got more and more demanding. He got promoted again, which meant more overtime, often not getting home until after 10 PM. By then, Ghost was desperate to go out. Even if I had overtime, I could usually finish it at home. So I often got home on time, walked Ghost, and then logged back onto my computer to finish my work. I thought, we’re both working hard for our future, for a better life together. And so, life went on. Six months later, I found out I was pregnant. My mother came to visit when she heard the news. She took one look at our small rental and frowned. “You’re living in a place this small? You can barely manage yourselves, and you got a dog?” I hugged her arm, trying to charm her. “Mom, it’s just temporary! Bigger places are a pain to clean. A one-bedroom is perfect right now, isn’t it?” “And the dog was just fate, we had to keep him.” Mom sighed and poked my forehead gently. I knew, compared to my parents’ house, this place was tiny. But Ethan and I were both still building our careers, and he was saving up for a down payment. We couldn’t afford to rent anything much bigger. Even my dad started to soften up a bit. Parents always love their children, in the end. They bought me a condo outright. The day we got the keys, Ethan held me close, his voice low with emotion. “I’m sorry, Rach. I haven’t worked hard enough. I couldn’t buy you a place here myself.” “Trust me, just give me three more years. I’ll buy you an even bigger place.” He held me tight and kissed me deeply. What’s that saying? “Women are auditory creatures; they’re more easily moved by sweet words and promises than by silent actions.” Of course, I didn’t blame him. I hugged him back affectionately, comforting him, saying it had only been a year, we had time. “Besides,” I added, “it’s just the two of us now, soon to be three. What do we need a huge house for? It’d feel empty and spooky. I’d be scared.” “Rachel, you’re the best.” He hugged me even tighter, kissing me repeatedly, full of tenderness. “Once the baby’s born, you should stop working so hard. Let me take care of you.” I sniffled, my eyes stinging. Let me take care of you… Such beautiful words. … After our daughter, Sophie, was born, despite really not wanting to, I had to put my career on hold. For the first year, there was just no way to work. The baby needed feeding every two or three hours during the day, and my body wasn’t recovering particularly well. I simply didn’t have the energy for anything beyond the baby. That’s the reality of raising a child yourself, the reality of motherhood. And I didn’t want to burden my parents. During this time, Ethan got promoted again, to a management position. His work and corporate entertaining got even more intense. He often came home smelling of alcohol. But he was still thoughtful towards me. He’d often bring home things I liked – sometimes cake, sometimes a bouquet of flowers. He’d hug me and say, “You’re working so hard, honey.” Just like before. Except, we rarely had time just for the two of us anymore. Occasionally, if the mood struck, it would inevitably be interrupted by the baby crying. After a while, he stopped initiating intimacy altogether. I never used to think being a stay-at-home mom was that difficult. But once I was actually in that position, I realized how incredibly hard it is. Every single day, I was exhausted. Not just physically tired, but mentally drained too. There were endless little things, from morning till night, revolving around the baby. And then there was Ghost, constantly needing attention. Not taking him out was impossible. If I didn’t take him out, he’d chew the furniture and bark nonstop. So I started asking Ethan to help walk Ghost. He’d agree, but then immediately say he needed to research some stocks and disappear into the bedroom with his laptop. This went on for months, leaving me completely worn out. Until one day, all my pent-up frustration finally exploded. 4 That day, I specifically reminded Ethan to walk the dog. He casually agreed before I went to put Sophie down for her nap. Just as I got her settled and came out, I saw that Ghost had knocked over the kitchen trash can. Garbage – nasty bits of everything – was strewn all over the floor. He’d unrolled the toilet paper from the bathroom, trailing a long white ribbon all the way into the living room. The sofa cushions were pulled onto the floor, and Ghost, having stepped in water in the bathroom, had left muddy paw prints all over the white cushions. The cushions I had just washed yesterday! “Ethan!!!” Furious, I grabbed the dirty cushion and stormed into the bedroom. The computer screen he claimed he was using to “check the market” was displaying a video game. That night was chaos. In the heat of the argument, I yanked the plug from the wall. I don’t even remember everything I yelled. Finally, Ethan stormed out, face dark with anger, and walked the dog. He didn’t come back until almost midnight. I was already asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. When Ethan came home that evening, he brought me my favorite little cake, just like usual. Everything seemed back to normal. Except for Ghost. Starting that day, he seemed less insistent on going out constantly. When I was tending to Sophie, he’d curl up beside her, his round eyes watching the soft, white little bundle. “Ghost, this is Sophie. She’s your little owner now. You have to protect her, understand?” “Woof~” I have no idea if he understood, but I chose to believe he did. And so, the days passed. I treated Ghost better and better, doing my best for him. His food got more expensive, and every day I took the baby and the dog out for a walk together. Ghost bypassed Ethan entirely and became my dearest companion.

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Three years into my marriage with Michael, my periods just… stopped. Then, this woman shows up at my door, makeup caked on, hand possessively on her belly, chin tilted up like she owned the place. She shoves a stack of divorce papers at me like she’s doing me a favor. “Mike told me he’s gonna marry me. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your stuff and get out!” Two months later, in court. I clutched the divorce decree, a tight smile on my face as I looked at Michael and Jessica. “Excuse me, but could you please get your trash off my property as soon as possible?” Rewind a bit. For the first two years I was married to Michael, getting pregnant was my full-time job, on top of my actual job. Chinese herbs, Western medicine, fertility clinics – you name it, I tried it. Nothing worked. God wasn’t listening, or maybe just didn’t care. Then came year three, and boom – menopause, basically. At the doctor’s office, staring at the lab report, the number practically screamed at me: AMH 0.5. The room spun. It felt like my world was ending. Michael’s mom is… well, let’s just say she’s from a small town with very traditional values. Carrying on the family name is everything to her. Michael’s her only son, the golden child who clawed his way out of poverty, got a college degree, and landed a decent government job here in the city. She poured everything into him. He was her everything. Now, Michael had the respectable job, the nice wife, the house in the suburbs… everything except a kid. His mom never let us forget it. Little comments here and there, getting louder over time, about needing a grandchild. Honestly, I hadn’t planned on rushing into kids, but Michael couldn’t handle his mom’s constant nagging, so we started trying. Me? I’m an OB/GYN. I bring dozens of babies into the world every week. I know better than anyone what a huge responsibility a child is. It’s not a whim; it’s a lifetime commitment of love and care. So, we decided. We tried. And tried. Nothing. His mom always acted like it was my fault, giving me the cold shoulder whenever she visited. Michael, to his credit back then, would try to smooth things over. He’d comfort me in private, buy me little gifts, cook dinner sometimes. I appreciated it. It made swallowing handfuls of fertility drugs a little easier. Turns out, his mom was right all along. It was me. 2 That night, I got home and tried to keep it together. I placed the lab report on the kitchen table, my hands shaking slightly. “What’s this?” Michael asked, looking confused. “My test results.” The words “test results” were like a trigger for his mom. She practically lunged across the table and snatched the paper before Michael could even reach for it. “AMH 0.5? What the hell does that mean?” Michael’s face paled. He’d been to enough doctor’s appointments with me to pick up some of the jargon. “It means her egg count is practically zero! She can barely get pregnant!” His mom’s voice screeched, confirming his fear. “That’s right,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm, though the lump in my throat threatened to choke me. “I can’t have children.” “I knew it!” She jabbed a finger towards my face. “My Michael is perfectly healthy! How could he not have kids by now? It’s because of you, you cursed luck!” Her voice dripped with venom. “Honestly, even a rock in a warm bed could probably hatch something after three years! What’s wrong with your womb?” “I told him you were damaged goods! See? Damaged!” Her words were getting nastier, more personal. Michael finally stepped in. “Mom! That’s enough. Sarah feels bad enough already!” I grew up comfortably middle-class, maybe not rich, but definitely sheltered by loving parents. I’d never had anyone talk to me like that, so raw and cruel. Tears welled up despite my best efforts. “What are you doing? Getting too big for your britches now?” she snapped back at Michael. “Forgot who starved and scraped so you could go to college?” She always held that over his head, convinced I’d turned him against her. “I told you not to marry her from the start! And now look! Can’t even give me a grandchild!” “Bottom line, you have to divorce her! Our family name means something back home! Marrying a woman who can’t have kids? How can I show my face? Do you want our family line to just… end with you?” Her furious rant silenced Michael. He knew exactly how much she’d sacrificed for him, collecting cans, working odd jobs, anything to keep him in school. That guilt was a powerful weapon. “Sarah,” Michael turned and took my hand. His felt clammy. “Mom’s just upset. I’m not going to divorce you. Don’t worry.” I squeezed his hand back, clinging to that shred of hope, my eyes probably showing more love than he deserved. 3 The next few weeks were a blur of internet searches and consultations with colleagues at the hospital. I desperately looked for any way to boost my AMH levels, but it was hopeless. There was only one path left: IVF. In Vitro Fertilization. Problem was, we’d just bought the house, sinking every penny we had into the down payment and taking on a massive $400,000 mortgage. IVF wasn’t cheap. There were different levels, different protocols. I wanted the best chance, the most expensive option – tens of thousands of dollars. I didn’t want my issue to compromise the health of our potential child. I just wanted a healthy baby. I talked it over with Michael. Between my salary and his government job, we brought in about $15,000 a month, but after the $5,000 mortgage payment and other bills, there was no way we could afford a huge IVF bill upfront. I suggested we ask his mom for a loan. I knew Michael sent her money every month; I just pretended not to notice. Who wouldn’t help out their own mother? When we brought it up, she hit the roof. “Absolutely not! I forbid it!” “Mom, Sarah just wants us to have a baby, give you that grandchild you want,” Michael tried to reason. “Ha! Don’t kid yourself. She’s just after the money you’ve been giving me!” She glared at me, suspicion etched on her face. She didn’t have a pension, just a small fixed income, so Michael’s monthly contribution was her lifeline. “Mom, that’s not true, I really just—” My defense sounded weak even to my own ears. “Michael, if you have any respect left for me, you’ll divorce her!” So, the loan idea died right there. And slowly, things started to shift with Michael. He was still acting gentle, but his words started carrying a subtle sting, constantly reminding me of my infertility. “Look, it is a fact you can’t conceive. Mom didn’t say anything untrue, she was just… blunt about it. You need to be more understanding.” “I still love you, you know. Whether you can have kids or not.” “Kids aren’t the most important thing. Having you is enough for me.” “We’ll save up slowly. We can wait a few more years for kids. Don’t put pressure on yourself.” “You’re overthinking things. I’m only saying this stuff for your own good.” 4 I started shutting down, growing quiet, anxious, and easily irritated. I kept wondering what terrible thing I must have done in a past life to deserve this. Michael started coming home later and later. “Work,” he’d say. “Trying to get that promotion to supervisor, gotta put in the hours, make a good impression.” My own shifts at the hospital, often overnight, meant we barely saw each other anyway. Our communication dwindled to almost nothing. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d actually been intimate. One night, a colleague covered my shift, so I got off early. It was around 11 PM when I got home. The living room was dark, but I heard the shower running in the master bathroom, and muffled sounds of Michael talking. A small smile touched my lips. I decided to surprise him. I quietly changed into the silky black lingerie I’d bought a while back, hoping to reignite something. Tiptoeing to the bathroom door, I reached for the handle. That’s when I heard it, a sentence that froze the blood in my veins. “My wife? Please, that barren woman can’t hold a candle to you!” Michael’s voice was slick, sleazy, unrecognizable. My hand hovered over the doorknob, unable to push it down. “Stop hiding! It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before!” “Come on, move the phone down a little lower!” “Oh, Mikey, you’re making me blush~” A simpering female voice came through the phone speaker, loud enough for me to hear over the running water. I couldn’t believe it. My quiet, dependable husband was video-calling another woman while she showered? “Yeah, yeah! Right there!” The conversation that followed… I can’t even repeat it. It was disgusting. Listening to his low groans from inside the bathroom, I knew exactly what was happening. All strength drained from my body. I slumped against the wall, sliding down to the cold tile floor outside the door. The water kept running. I don’t know how long I sat there. “Mikey,” the woman’s voice purred, sounding weak but satisfied. “When are you finally gonna divorce your wife?” “It’s gonna take a little more time,” Michael replied, still slightly breathless. “What do you mean!” Her voice sharpened with annoyance. “You keep saying that! Wait, wait, wait! I’m tired of waiting!” “I already told you, Jess,” Michael explained patiently, “if I divorce her now, she gets half the house. Give me a little longer. I promise I’ll get her to sign a property agreement, make her give up her claim willingly.” “Really?” “Jess, would I lie to you? You know how crazy I am about you. I want to marry you as soon as possible.” Then, his voice dropped, filled with contempt. “Besides… a woman who can’t even have kids thinks she deserves half my property? Dream on! If I wasn’t trying to trick her into signing that agreement, I’d have kicked her out months ago!”

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“Thud—” I hit the ground hard after falling from the rooftop. Falling right alongside me was the husband who tricked me, ruined me, and wanted me dead. I thought dying together was the end for us. I never expected that when I opened my eyes again, I’d been reborn. And so had he! 01 I was standing on the edge of the rooftop. The wind whipped around me. Below me, a dizzying drop. Behind me, Mark’s hand rested on my shoulder. He said, “Piper, didn’t you say you loved me? If you love me, you should just jump. Save me the trouble, right?” Every word out of his mouth made me sicker. God, I was so stupid. Fooled by the sweet nothings whispered by the devil behind me. He stole my family’s company, got my parents killed, and still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted my life too! I wouldn’t stand for it— Absolutely not!!! I turned my head, my smile dripping with sarcasm. “Mark, can’t even bring yourself to do the killing? I finally see it. You’re just a coward, pathetic as dirt!” Instantly, his eyes blazed with hatred. The second he lost his cool, unable to think straight, I grabbed the hand he used to push me. And dragged him down to hell with me! As Mark screamed, a triumphant smile spread across my face. I felt my body plummet, the wind slicing past my cheeks like knives. “CRUNCH—” In the last moment of my life, I even heard the sound of my own bones shattering. Damn, that hurt! But thinking about the bastard lying dead next to me? That felt good. If only… 02 “Piper!” Someone tapped sharply on the desk. I jolted awake. My deskmate, Jessica, whispered, “The professor’s asking you a question!” A question? I was practically pavement pizza, how could anyone ask me a question? I looked up, confused, right into the professor’s scowling face. “Ms. Sterling, I was talking about advertising design. How do you say ‘poster’ and ‘advertisement’ in, well, English?” This felt familiar… Wasn’t this a required course from my senior year? I was reborn!! I remembered my answer back then: “I love my country, I refuse to learn some foreign devil’s language!” It had made the old professor absolutely livid. As I drifted in memory, a note slid across the desk. The first thing I noticed were the long, slender fingers holding it, then the messy scrawl on the paper – a couple of English words. The handwriting was atrocious. I couldn’t even make it out. But that didn’t stop me from answering fluently. After all, I’d been working at Sterling Corp, the family business, practically running the place as CEO eventually. A few basic words weren’t going to trip me up. The professor seemed stunned. Did he honestly think I wouldn’t know? “Sit down!” Though clearly annoyed, he waved me down, sticking to his word. “You actually knew that?” Jessica stared at me, bewildered. I smirked. “Why shouldn’t I?” “What’s the point of learning this stuff?” Jessica scoffed. “You’re just going to inherit the family business anyway…” I ignored her. I hadn’t forgotten how badly Mark wanted me dead in my past life, and this friend here was egging him on the whole time. Besides, in my past life, she was the one constantly feeding me that whole “rich kids don’t need to try” garbage. That’s why I ended up so useless, letting Mark dictate everything. Thinking about how stupid I’d been made my blood boil. Jessica asked if I wanted to grab dinner. I shut her down flat. I’d paid for enough of her meals last time around. This life, I wasn’t playing the sucker. 03 After class, a tall figure blocked my path. His handsome face made me do a double-take before I realized – it was him, the one who passed me the note in class: Ethan Graystone! That hadn’t happened in my past life. And wasn’t he a Finance major? What was he doing in an Art major’s required English course? Still, seeing him again made me ridiculously happy. “Dinner tonight?” he asked. “Sure!” He seemed surprised I agreed so quickly. “Really? You’ll come?” “Yeah, really!” Why wouldn’t I? The Graystone Group was just as big as Sterling Corp. Ethan and I had known each other since we were kids. If something were to happen to my dad’s company in the future, Graystone could at least help out. “Okay, I’ll call The Willow Creek Inn, get us a table.” Ethan’s eyes lit up. The Willow Creek Inn? In my past life, the car crash that killed Ethan happened right near there. “Wait!” I grabbed his arm suddenly, blurting out, “What’s today’s date?” “May 18th. Thesis defense is next week. You asked me to look over your paper, remember?” Ethan answered automatically. My head spun. Memories flooded back. Ethan died in that car crash today in my past life! My hand gripping his started to shake. “Don’t go there.” “What?” Ethan looked completely lost. “But you just said yes.” “Don’t go!” I insisted through gritted teeth. You’ll die! “So… reschedule?” Ethan asked, still confused. “No rescheduling either.” “Piper Sterling, what do you want?” Ethan actually had incredible patience. How had I never noticed before? I was being totally flaky, and he didn’t even seem mad. “How about… my place? I can cook for you,” I suggested after a moment. Going to my apartment felt like the safest bet. 04 My parents bought me a huge penthouse apartment in the city, with its own private elevator entrance, right after I got into N.U. What can I say? My family’s loaded. And yeah, they spoiled me rotten growing up. That’s probably why I was so clueless about how nasty people could be. As I was thinking, Ethan suddenly asked, “Piper, you’re not planning to poison me, are you?” I looked up. He was squinting at me suspiciously. “We’ve known each other for twenty years. I’ve never heard about you knowing how to cook.” I gave an awkward laugh. “Learned from our housekeeper. You coming or not? Your loss if you don’t.” Ethan quickly nodded. “I’m coming!” Just then, Jessica ran over. “Piper, aren’t you coming clubbing tonight?” Ha. So she couldn’t freeload dinner off me, now she’s trying something else. Annoyed, I put on a sweet smile. “Jess, I’d love to, but you’re such a good student, you don’t need to study. I’m different. If I don’t hit the books, I might not even graduate.” I laid it on thick, playing the innocent card perfectly. Jessica seemed thrown off. She stammered, “It’s okay, Piper, I can help you study.” Before I could reply, Ethan cut in coldly, “Help her study? Please. You’re top of the class, and Piper, who hangs out with you all the time, is barely passing? Sounds more like someone’s using ‘studying’ as an excuse to make Piper look bad by comparison.” I always knew Ethan had a sharp tongue. We went to the same elementary and middle schools; he made me cry more times than I could count. And just like that, Jessica’s eyes welled up. She looked genuinely hurt. “Hey, don’t cry, makes it look like I’m bullying you,” Ethan continued, relentless. “Everything I said was true. Aren’t you number one? Isn’t Piper near the bottom?!” Me: “…” I kind of felt like I was being manipulated here! Because of Ethan’s words, the people gathering around started giving Jessica weird looks. Ethan grabbed my hand. “If you need tutoring, ask me,” he said with a grin. “You don’t need Miss Innocent here. Let’s go, time for that home-cooked meal.” Seeing Ethan grab my hand, Jessica, red-eyed, forgot her damsel-in-distress act. She leaned close to my ear, whispering just loud enough for Ethan to hear, “Are you really going to get with Graystone? Didn’t you say you’d never marry for connections?” I scoffed internally. Last time, I listened to way too much of her crap like that. That’s why I always turned Ethan down. And while I was out partying, he died in that crash. Since I got a do-over, I wasn’t letting that happen again. Besides, Ethan’s face was visibly darkening. I squeezed his hand tighter and smiled up at him. “Actually, I think Ethan and I are equals, both well-off. Better to join forces, a power couple, than marry some charity case, right?” Jessica froze, speechless, unable to reply. I was already pulling Ethan away. Once we were in the car, I heard the man beside me say cheerfully, “About time you ditched her. Glad you’re finally wising up!” Huh? I glanced at him, but his eyes were closed, like he hadn’t said anything. A thought suddenly popped into my head: If he hadn’t died so young last time, would my future have been different?

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When I got diagnosed with cancer, my classmates laughed like I was already dead. When I got bit by a zombie, they grabbed makeshift weapons and told me to get lost. When I turned out to be the only person bitten who didn’t turn, suddenly they were all on their knees, begging me— Begging me to save their lives. 01 My name is Sarah. I’m 20. Just your average, unremarkable college sophomore. Except I just found out I have cancer. Stage four. About a month after my diagnosis, the zombie virus hit campus like a bomb. One minute, it was your typical sunny, energetic college green; the next, everyone was scrambling, desperate to escape the walking dead. Me? The sick girl? I basically just gave up, letting the panicked crowd shove me along until I ended up crammed into a storage room. There were already a bunch of people hiding inside. Before I could even get my bearings, someone shrieked: “Sarah! She’s been bitten!” Instantly, every eye in the room locked onto me. I glanced down. Sure enough, a clear bite mark on my wrist. Oh yeah, I remembered now. In the chaos outside, I saw Jessica, a girl from my class, about to get dragged away by a zombie. I yanked her back, out of stupid instinct, and got chomped in the process. And the person screaming about me being bitten? Jessica, of course. “Sarah, you’re bitten. Just get out of here,” Tiffany, the campus queen bee who always hated me for beating her in academics, stepped up, acting like she was in charge of who lived and died. The ridiculous part? No one disagreed. All fifteen or so of them just stared at me, pure terror in their eyes, like I was about to foam at the mouth and take a chunk out of them. Then the fear turned to anger. Jessica piled on, “Sarah, you’ve got cancer anyway, you’re gonna die soon. Don’t drag us down with you.” Tiffany added, her voice dripping venom, “Yeah, just get lost.” Suddenly, the whole storage room was echoing the same sentiment. “Get out!” It felt just like after my diagnosis. Tiffany, still bitter I’d won first place in the talent show she thought was hers, cornered me with her little clique. She’d sneered, “Sarah, what did you do to deserve this? Getting a death sentence so young? Serves you right!” Her followers chorused: “Serves you right!” Then, like now, I felt… nothing. Calm. I grew up an orphan, no parents. Always been quiet, maybe a little aloof. “Offending” the popular girl meant I got shoved around a lot. Facing actual death now, their petty high school drama meant absolutely nothing. I looked one last time at Jessica. My voice was steady. “I got bitten saving you.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, Sarah? Guilt trip me? I didn’t ask you to save me.” “Fine,” I said. With that, I turned sharply and walked out. As the door slammed behind me, I heard the distinct click of a lock. I let out a small, cold chuckle. “Serves them right.” The next second, Jessica’s bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, followed by a chorus of horrifying shrieks from inside the storage room. Jessica noticed my bite, sure. But I guess she didn’t notice someone else in that room had been bitten too. 02 The storage room door was rattling like crazy. I just pursed my lips, feeling zero sympathy, and turned down a side path. I made my way to the campus convenience store. Figured I should load up on real food before I turned, instead of craving… well, you know. I grabbed a double chocolate muffin and was about to take a bite when the world spun, and everything went black. When I came to, maybe half an hour had passed. Using a metal shelf as a makeshift mirror, I checked myself out. Didn’t look like I’d turned. Weird. Just then, a zombie, smeared head-to-toe in blood, lurched around the end of the aisle. It spotted me, let out a guttural roar, and charged. Its roar attracted others. Suddenly, the store was filling up. The first one was almost on me. Even though I was dying anyway, I didn’t fancy getting torn apart by zombies. Instinctively, I kicked out. The next thing I knew, the zombie flew backward like a broken kite, crashing into a display rack. More growls behind me. I spun, tried a few more kicks. In seconds, a whole group of them were embedded in the drywall, twitching uselessly. Okay, so maybe I had changed. Where else would I get the power to take down zombies bare-handed like some kind of superhero?! The dead bodies were kind of ruining my appetite, though. I dragged them outside and tossed them near the dumpsters. Just as I was about to head back in for my muffin, I heard a desperate yell for help from down the street. I squinted. A familiar figure sprinted into view. He was wearing track pants, four or five zombies clawing at his back, his incredibly handsome face pale with terror. My brow furrowed hard. Jake? What was he doing here? He was in my classes, but he’d dropped out right after I got my diagnosis. Why was he back on campus? While I was spacing out, he let out a yelp and tripped, face-planting onto the pavement. Jake! That was my crush! I was obsessed with his perfect face. A surge of protective anger shot through me. I moved faster than I ever thought possible, launching myself forward. A flurry of kicks sent the zombies daring to mess with my crush’s face flying. Then, I hauled Jake up and booked it. Yeah, hauled him. Like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder. I don’t know if zombies have a thing for good looks, or maybe they were after Jake’s brain—all the professors raved about how smart he was. More and more zombies were heading our way, drawn to Jake—or maybe me carrying him. I wasn’t worried about getting bitten again, but Jake couldn’t get hurt. Panicked, I somehow managed to sprint all the way back to the convenience store carrying him. I set him down gently. My heart was hammering, totally embarrassed and flustered, but I couldn’t let him see that. Play it cool. I calmly handed him a bottle of water. He seemed shell-shocked, probably hadn’t even registered that I’d just carried him like some kind of cavewoman. He took the water silently, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down half the bottle. Jake was my ultimate crush, the guy I’d been secretly obsessed with forever. People say when you’re dying, you make a bucket list. Mine basically had one item: Spend time with Jake before I die. And here we were. Apocalypse. Convenience store. Me and Jake. Thump-thump-thump— My heart was going crazy. Trying to cover my excitement, I asked, “Jake, didn’t you drop out? What are you doing back here?” He choked on his water, coughed a few times, then explained, “Yeah, I dropped out. Got chased back onto campus by accident.” He looked up, his eyes full of gratitude. “Sarah, thanks for saving me.” He’d been running for a while when I found him. I felt a flicker of worry. “Are you okay? Did they get you? Did you get bitten?” He thought for a second. Just as my anxiety spiked, he said, “No. I’m okay.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I turned to grab him some food from the shelves. He followed right behind me, practically stepping on my heels, like he was terrified I’d abandon him. I stopped in front of a rack of chips. Facing away from him, I said quietly, “Don’t worry. I won’t ditch you.” Couldn’t even if I wanted to, I thought. I’ve been crushing on you since freshman orientation. The words felt like a confession. My face flushed. I thought I heard him murmur behind me, “Good. I owe you one. I’ll pay you back.” 03 The convenience store had a small employee break room in the back. Jake used the sink to wash his face and came out, hair still damp. I turned my head and froze. He was standing in the doorway, shirtless. Perfect V-taper, clearly defined abs, smooth lines… A few drops of water trickled enticingly down his neck, tracing a path over his muscles and disappearing below the waistband of his track pants… My face instantly felt like it was on fire. I whipped my head away. My voice came out huskier than I intended. “Put a shirt on.” I heard a hint of disappointment in Jake’s voice from the doorway. “Aw, and here I thought you might like the view. Did it just for you, you know.” “…” This was how he planned to “pay me back”? Giving me a free show?! Despite myself, my heart hammered, and my cheeks burned. I muttered something about needing to change too and ducked into the break room. Hauling Jake around earlier had made me sweat buckets, and my bite wound seemed to be throbbing more. As I peeled off my shirt, I winced. Pain shot up my arm. I reached for the gauze I’d wrapped around it earlier and accidentally knocked over a glass tumbler. The shattering sound was deafening in the quiet room. Almost instantly, the door flew open. I stared, shocked, at Jake standing there, his face etched with worry. It took me a half-second to remember I was standing there in just my bra. “Get out!” Mortified and furious, I spun around, hugging myself, feeling like a boiled lobster. “Didn’t see anything! Sorry, sorry!” Jake stammered apologies, backing out clumsily and kicking over a mop bucket in the process. The door clicked shut. I glanced back to make sure it was closed before finally letting out a shaky breath. When I finished changing and opened the door, I stopped dead. He was still standing right there. “Why are you still here?” Remembering the shirtless incident, my face started heating up again. Jake looked at me, his expression serious. He reached a hand toward my left arm. I instinctively covered my sleeve, wary. “What are you doing?” “You’re hurt. Let me see.” I tried to pull my arm back, narrowing my eyes. “You just said you didn’t see anything.” Jake’s hand froze for a second, guilt flashing across his face. But even so, he persisted, determined to see my arm. I couldn’t fight him off; he managed to grab my wrist. “Ow!” The struggle jostled my freshly bandaged wound, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Jake’s expression darkened. He shot me a glare, then carefully, gently rolled up my sleeve. “How did this happen? Does it hurt?” His eyes fixed on the messy bandage job, his tone low and serious. His hand held mine firmly; I couldn’t pull away. “Just scratched myself, it’s nothing.” “Nothing? It’s bleeding through the gauze, Sarah! That’s not ‘nothing’!” “Jake! Let go of me! I told you, I’m fine!” He started pulling me back toward the break room. It was ironic. He was the one terrified of zombies, chased across campus. I was the one who could kick them through walls. Yet, he dragged me along, and I couldn’t seem to resist at all. He found a first-aid kit under the sink and, without another word, grabbed scissors to cut off my makeshift bandage. I didn’t want him to see the actual bite mark. I struggled desperately. “Don’t move!” Jake barked, looking up, his deep eyes filled with frustration. The bandage came away, bit by bit. I watched him nervously, my fingers curling slightly. When the wound was fully exposed, his expression changed, just as I’d feared. I pressed my lips together, about to yank my hand back, but instead, he picked up tweezers, dabbed cotton with antiseptic, and started cleaning the wound. His movements were efficient, precise. He even tied the new bandage with a surprisingly cute little bow. Jake stood up, looking down at me intently. “A zombie bite. Why didn’t you tell me?” “It happened a while ago. I’m fine.” My heart was pounding. I was terrified he’d react like the others – yell at me, run away. I started to explain, that I was bitten but didn’t turn, that I somehow got powers instead. But his expression held no fear, no disgust. Just concern. He asked softly, “Does it hurt?” After everything – the near-death, the honesty – The distance between people seemed to shrink. A warmth spread through my chest. “Doesn’t hurt.”

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I was lying in a pool of my own blood, watching my husband walk away with the woman he loved. Before I died, all I could think was how fast his legs carried him away. They deserved to be broken. I didn’t expect my chance to come so quickly. When I opened my eyes again, I was back nine years earlier. My future husband, the golden boy himself, Julian Croft, heir to the political dynasty, was lying unconscious at the bottom of a cliff. Those legs of his… yeah, they needed breaking. 01 In my last life’s timeline, Julian was ambushed during a high-profile political retreat, went off a cliff, horse and all. I was the one who found him, carried him for a day and a night, and saved his life. Right now, he was just lying there silently among the rocks, waiting for me to lean down. And I did. Even injured and out cold, my Julian was still the most devastatingly handsome man alive. So, naturally, being obsessed with him, I did the sensible thing and cleanly severed his Achilles tendons. The pain made him convulse, and as the smell of blood spread, Julian struggled his eyes open. I looked down at him. “Julian, honey, are you okay?” I can only imagine how tender my voice sounded, how full of pity my expression was. After all, from now on, he wasn’t running anywhere. He looked so helpless. How could I possibly be harsh with him? Julian looked surprised to see me. But the second he tried to move, he broke out in a cold sweat, the pain hitting him hard. Sharp as he was, he instantly located the source of his agony. Just as I expected, realizing his legs were ruined, Julian couldn’t handle it. He completely broke down. Because crippled legs meant the power, the presidency his family groomed him for, the prize he’d schemed his whole life for, was out of reach. I held him, stopping him from pounding on his useless legs. “Julian, hurting yourself like this? Isn’t that just playing into the hands of whoever set you up?” “Besides, you still have me. Even if you’re crippled, even if you never reach the Oval Office, I won’t leave you.” My dear Julian always had a suspicious mind. Sure enough, the wheels started turning. He gritted his teeth. “Whoever did this to me… they’ll pay!” I could almost hear him mentally cycling through his brothers, his rivals, wondering who planned the attack specifically to cripple him, to take him out of the running for good. After all, power could pass to any number of heirs, but not usually to a cripple. “Don’t worry, Julian. You’re not alone. Me and the Sterling family, we’ll stand behind you,” I whispered soothingly, like comforting a precious jewel. And he always knew how to make the choice most beneficial to himself. Like right now, clinging to me tightly, like I was his last hope. He cried in my arms, and the feeling was just… exquisite. Because he needed me so desperately. I thought, maybe I should build him a golden cage. Something fitting for his stature, something to protect him from the harsh realities outside. Just like last time, I carried him on my back, searching for a way out. Only difference was, last time he was unconscious and couldn’t walk. This time, he’d never walk properly again. He was awake the whole way, saw every bit of effort I put in. He even managed to wipe the sweat from my brow, gently asking how I was holding up. See? He could be so considerate. It had been a long time since I’d seen that side of him. Back then, he needed my family’s influence, so he deliberately got close, seduced me with sweet nothings, promises of forever, just the two of us. All that disappeared the moment he secured his position, using the Sterling clout to solidify his power base. But now? Oh, I was thrilled. Ecstatic that he’d be this gentle, this dependent, forever. 02 Following the paths I remembered from last time, I avoided the areas where ambushers might still be lurking and finally hit the main road just before dark. Soon enough, we ran into the Sterling family’s search party – or rather, our private security team. My second brother, Rick, looking sharp and imposing even on horseback, galloped towards me, his face tight with worry. He clearly didn’t even register the injured political heir I was carrying. I gave my brother, who I hadn’t seen in what felt like ages, a brilliant smile, then promptly collapsed into his arms. Seeing me “pass out,” Rick was instantly concerned. He just barked orders to his men – “Get Mr. Croft back to his residence, now!” – then carried me into one of the waiting SUVs. The vehicle swayed gently as we headed back to the Sterling estate. I opened my eyes halfway there. Rick’s expression didn’t change; he obviously knew I was faking it from the start. But he didn’t call me out, just gave me a stern lecture. “Don’t play games with your life, Scarlett. What happens to him is none of your damn business. If anything happened to you, Dad would fall apart.” I knew he was talking about me ignoring everyone’s warnings and chasing the attackers right off Blue Ridge Cliff after Julian. “I know what I’m doing, Rick,” I purred, leaning back against the plush leather seat. That was one thing I prided myself on: I’d trained in various forms of combat since I was a kid, and I had a natural talent for it. Even Rick, a former Special Forces guy, couldn’t beat me anymore. A fall from Blue Ridge wouldn’t kill me, and it meant I could find the unconscious Julian quickly. Rick hated it when I got cocky. He snorted. “If you’re so capable, why fake fainting?” I settled deeper into the seat, answering seriously, “Sometimes, out of sight, out of mind is best. If I hadn’t, I don’t think I could have stood handing Julian over to someone else.” Julian Croft. My golden boy. Such a nice name, such a handsome face. He should belong to me. How could I let anyone else touch what was mine? But the timing wasn’t right yet. I had to be patient. Rick went quiet. When we got back to the Sterling estate, Dad and my older brother were waiting, fussing over me. My father, Arthur Sterling, a man of immense power and influence, actually had tears in his eyes, pulling me close, calling me his “dear girl.” See? Power, influence, the adoration of my father and brothers. Growing up, every debutante and young heir practically tripped over themselves to suck up to me. And yet, Julian used my family’s clout, got what he wanted, and then expected me to step aside for his “true love.” Thinking of Julian, I dismissed the household staff, poured Dad and my brothers a stiff drink – whiskey, neat – and got serious. “Dad, Rick, Older Brother, there’s something I need to tell you.” Seeing my solemn expression, they straightened up. “Mom didn’t die in some random accident or mugging years ago. The old man, President Croft himself, feared your power, Dad. He tried to arrange an ‘accident’ for you, but Mom got caught in the crossfire instead.” This was intel Julian himself had revealed in our past life, a calculated move to gain my family’s absolute trust. My father and brothers are brilliant, ruthless men. Between them, they controlled levers of power – political, financial, even some darker, private networks – that amounted to a chokehold on the country’s establishment. That’s precisely why Julian was so desperate for Sterling backing back then. And why, once he felt secure, he orchestrated that “accident” during my trip down south, leaving me surrounded by his hired guns on a cold, dark pier, bleeding out into the water. He walked away with his precious Isabelle Moon, while my blood washed away, my body dumped like trash. I admit, I’d been arrogant. I never thought Julian would stoop to poisoning me himself, a slow-acting toxin delivered through touch, clouding my judgment just enough for his goons to get the drop on me. Old Man Croft killed Mom. Julian killed me. Do the math. The Sterlings and the Crofts? No way we could ever coexist. The moment the words left my mouth, Dad crushed the heavy crystal tumbler in his hand. My brothers’ chests were heaving, fury radiating off them. Growing up, my father and brothers never questioned my word. If I said it, they believed it. After a long, tense silence, Dad pulled out the small, worn locket he always carried – the one with Mom’s picture inside. He asked in a low, dangerous voice, “What do you want to do, Scarlett?” He clutched Mom’s locket tightly. I looked at my father, thought of my mother, looked at my brothers, and suddenly burst out laughing. “They all want the top spot, don’t they? Fine. Then let this country be run by a Sterling!” My own laughter echoed, cold and terrifying. But I didn’t care. From the moment Old Man Croft targeted our family, the Crofts and Sterlings were destined to clash. Besides, if everything belonged to my family, Julian wouldn’t have any room left for wandering thoughts… or wandering eyes. Oh, right. My name is Scarlett Sterling. My dad is Arthur Sterling. Dad and my brothers quite like our surname. Makes sense it should be the name everyone in power answers to, don’t you think? 03 Dinner that night was quiet, the few household staff serving us moved like ghosts. I could see how scared they were of us. It’s simple, really. Our whole family is… intense. A little messed up. From my father and brothers down to me, we share a certain morbid intensity. Prime example: Mom died seven years ago, but Dad still carries a tiny, ornate urn with some of her ashes everywhere he goes. We still set a place for her at the dinner table, complete with her favorite china and silverware. Early on, Dad even… consumed some of her ashes. To be one with her, he said. The staff turned green back then, absolutely horrified. But us three kids? We were thrilled. We all loved Mom, and she loved us fiercely. A family, together, whole… what could possibly be wrong with that? Tonight, digging into the hot, delicious food, I looked towards Mom’s empty place setting and said brightly, “Mom, don’t you worry. You’ll have a properly respectful son-in-law paying his respects soon.” I’d only just dropped the bombshell on Mom’s memory, and by the next day, news that Julian Croft, the heir apparent, was permanently crippled was spreading like wildfire through the political circles and gossip columns. When I arrived at Julian’s residence – a luxurious wing of the Croft compound – the staff were practically walking on eggshells. Seeing me was like spotting a lifeboat. “Miss Sterling, thank God you’re here.” “Mr. Croft hasn’t touched a bite all day. We don’t know what to do.” Martin, Julian’s personal aide, looked genuinely worried. But as he spoke, his eyes kept flickering past me, towards the hallway. I knew who he was really hoping to see: Julian’s supposed true love, Isabelle Moon, daughter of Secretary Moon. In our past life, whenever Julian and Isabelle had their secret trysts, Martin was the one arranging things, covering for them, playing lookout. Such a loyal little lapdog. I just smiled at him, a slow, knowing smile, until Martin trailed off uncomfortably. Then I clapped him on the shoulder. “Martin,” I said sweetly, “I feel so much better knowing Julian has you looking after him.” Ignoring the confusion on his face, I swept into Julian’s private suite. My eyes immediately met his dark, hostile gaze. A nurse stood nearby holding a bowl of medication, trying fruitlessly to coax him into taking it. He refused, just kept staring at me, clearly trying to drive me away with his miserable state. I paid it no mind. I took the bowl, blew gently on the liquid, and held the spoon to his lips. “Julian, you need to take this so you can heal. You don’t want to be stuck in bed forever, do you?” That hit a nerve. Julian turned his head away, his voice flat with despair. “Just go, Scarlett. My legs… they’re not getting better. Stay away from me. You can still find someone… suitable.” “Don’t talk like that.” I gripped his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “And you should know by now, once you’ve caught my attention, you’re never getting rid of me.” It was the truth. He started this. He pursued me. Everything he’d done, every promise he’d made, was set in stone in my mind. There was no going back. “Now, be a good boy and drink your medicine. Once you’re stronger, we’ll go talk to your father about setting a wedding date.” Julian couldn’t fight me. Or maybe he’d just put on enough of a show. He took the bowl and gulped the medicine down in one go. The medication or the emotional toll exhausted him. After he fell asleep, I left his suite. On my way out of the compound, I ran into Ethan Croft, the second son. Ethan Croft. Julian’s most viable competitor for the family’s political legacy. “Scarlett. You’ve seen Julian? What did the doctors say? Is he… doing alright?” He approached me smoothly, adjusting his perfectly knotted tie, offering a smile as warm and inviting as a spring day. No doubt about it, Ethan was classically handsome, well-built, with a polished, sophisticated air. But compared to Julian? He still fell short. So I just offered a polite, cool nod. “Good evening, Ethan.” “The doctors have his condition under control.” “Well, in that case, I won’t disturb him.” Ethan’s expression turned somber, and he sighed. “My brother has always been so proud. He probably doesn’t want many visitors right now.” I smiled faintly, watching his subtle attempt to poison my perception. Ethan quickly changed the subject. “Since you’re heading out, let me give you a ride home, Scarlett.” “That would be kind of you, Ethan.” I didn’t refuse. The whole drive, I watched Ethan’s not-so-subtle attempts to impress me, dropping hints about his own ambitions, his connections. This had been going on for years. Ever since I was a teenager, before my debutante ball, he’d been making quiet overtures. But back then, I was supposedly “head over heels” for Julian, so Ethan kept his approaches discreet. Now, with Julian sidelined? Ethan was openly trying to win me, and my family’s backing, over to his side. He even dropped heavy hints that, with him, I could eventually become the First Lady, the matriarch of the next generation. Hilarious. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. It’s an exhausting job, really.

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My girlfriend worked at a club downtown. I thought she was the most precious thing in the world, but then she turned around and crawled into bed with my best friend since childhood. And she told me, her whole goal in working at that club… was always him! I thought she was trying to land a rich guy, but the truth was… 01 My buddy Leo hit me up, wanting to go to this club he knew. Said it was crawling with gorgeous women. Me, single since basically birth, hesitated for like half a second before saying yes. Leo was a regular there. The second we walked in, a hostess rushed over, practically fawning over him. “Leo, my man! The Velvet Lounge again tonight?” Leo didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows. The hostess got the message immediately and slipped away to get things ready. Compared to Leo, who navigated the club like he owned the place, I probably looked like a total newbie. Which, yeah, I was. It was my first time in a place like this. The multi-colored lights flashing everywhere, the dance floor packed with beautiful women… I felt my heart pounding in my throat, adrenaline surging. I felt a little out of place, but also kind of excited about what might happen next. Leo saw me standing there awkwardly and threw an arm around my shoulder with a laugh. “Dude, relax! This is basically my spot. Don’t be so uptight. Let loose. Anything happens, I got your back!” Hearing that, I managed a smile and nodded. Leo and I were different, even though we grew up together. Our lives had taken completely different paths. I went the straight-and-narrow route: four-year college degree, then landed a job at a well-known public company right after graduation. I was doing okay, pulling down a six-figure salary. He, on the other hand, dropped out of junior high and started running the streets. His biggest advantage? He hit the genetic lottery. Good old dad. His father was one of the wealthiest businessmen in our area, owned a huge cosmetics company. Leo was born late in their lives, so they treated him like gold. No matter how much of a screw-up Leo was, someone always cleaned up his messes. He wanted to be a street guy? His dad threw money and connections around until he was some kind of big shot with his own crew to boss around. Seeing Leo live so freely, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Seriously, comparing yourself to others will just make you miserable. They say all roads lead to Rome, but Leo was practically born there. Guys like me, from regular backgrounds, we could bust our asses our whole lives and probably never reach the level he started at. “Come on, man, what are you still standing there for? Let’s go have some real fun,” Leo’s voice pulled me back. He gave a little whistle my way, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and swaggered into the VIP section. I hurried to keep up. Before I even got settled on the plush sofa, a line of ridiculously hot girls came in. They all wore the same tight little uniforms, but each had a different number pinned to her chest. Seeing them lined up like that, ready to be picked, felt weirdly like browsing produce at a farmer’s market or something. Leo didn’t waste any time. He pointed out two girls with heavy makeup who looked sharp, like they knew how to work a room. He pulled them down, one on each side, without a hint of awkwardness. While Leo was getting cozy with his choices, I noticed one girl standing off to the side. She also had heavy makeup, but she looked really young. Her face fell when Leo didn’t pick her, and she clenched her fists so hard I could almost hear her knuckles crack. She looked genuinely pissed. What’s her deal? I thought to myself. She’s that upset just because Leo didn’t choose her? I couldn’t help but let out a small, surprised chuckle. Just then, Leo turned to me. “Jake, you gotta pick one too. Got a few more buddies coming later. Let’s get this party started, warm things up.” “Huh? Me? Pick one?” Happiness, or maybe just shock, hit me so suddenly my face flushed bright red. After shuffling awkwardly for a moment, I pointed to the innocent-looking one who’d been giving Leo the eye. But she didn’t seem thrilled to be chosen by me. Her face screamed reluctance. Leo noticed and got annoyed. He stepped over and pinched her cheek, his eyes suddenly cold. “Aren’t you all here for the same thing? Drop the innocent act. If you disrespect my boy tonight, I’ll make you seriously regret it.” The girl didn’t say a word, just kept staring at Leo. Her face was blank; I couldn’t guess what she was thinking. “Hey, hey, come on,” I quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “We’re just here to have fun, right? Don’t scare the poor girl.” “This is my best friend, practically my brother,” Leo said, letting go of her face but keeping his voice icy. “You better show him some respect.” His tone was calm, but the words left no room for argument. But hearing how close Leo and I apparently were, the girl’s expression instantly relaxed. She even managed a smile. “Oh, Leo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll take really good care of your friend.” Leo nodded, satisfied. Then he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Nice eye, Jake. Trust my experience, that one looks brand new. You’re gonna have some fun tonight.” I just smiled without saying anything back. Leo really was an expert when it came to women. To put it mildly, he was the king of players, totally wild. But he wasn’t infallible. One time, things got really bad, led to two deaths, apparently. His dad spent a fortune cleaning up that mess. Leo didn’t seem to learn much from it, though. It wasn’t long before he was right back to playing the field. Watching him now, looking kind of sleazy as he poured drinks down the throats of the two girls beside him, I pursed my lips. I felt a bit awkward, a bit out of my element. “Hey, drink some water.” The girl I’d picked noticed my discomfort. She held out a glass of water, smiling. I took the glass from her, looking straight at her for a few moments. From the way she’d reacted to Leo, it was pretty clear her real interest wasn’t me. It was him. Even though she was sitting next to me now, her eyes kept darting over to Leo. Makes sense, I guess. Leo, the bad boy, had this magnetic charm. Plenty of young girls threw themselves at him. I took a small sip of water. Suddenly, I got this jolt of recognition. There was something familiar about her face, her eyes… like I’d seen her somewhere before. 02 I mentioned it, asked if we’d met before. She just shook her head, looking blank. Said she’d just arrived from some rural town way out in the sticks with a friend from back home. Tonight was her first time actually working the floor. “Oh,” I said, and let it drop. I turned back to drinking with Leo’s buddies who had shown up. One thing about Leo, say what you will, he was loyal to his friends. Even though we were in totally different places in life now, he’d helped me out a few times when I was really down. So yeah, I considered him a solid friend. After maybe a dozen shots of hard liquor, I was starting to feel pretty dizzy. Leo looked at me with a mischievous grin. “A night like this is priceless, Jake. Wanna tap out early?” I tried to shake my head no, but my body wasn’t listening. I stumbled and basically fell right into the lap of the girl I’d picked. When I woke up, it was the next morning. I opened my eyes, my head absolutely pounding. The girl lying next to me stirred, woken up by my movement. She wasn’t wearing anything. She looked at me, suddenly shy. “You’re awake? Last night, we…” I wasn’t exactly inexperienced. Seeing the tell-tale red stain on the white sheets, I knew exactly what had happened last night. “What? You expect me to take responsibility or something?” My tone wasn’t exactly friendly right then. Okay, so it was her first time, but she was still a club girl. That whole scene was murky, full of hidden depths. People there definitely weren’t as innocent as they might look on the surface. The last thing I needed was to get tangled up with someone complicated, someone who might try to shake me down for money later. “I… I… I didn’t mean that…” she stammered. “It was my choice. All of it. I just wanted to ask… since it was my first time… could you maybe give me a little extra money?” The girl lowered her head, biting her lip hard. She looked incredibly small and vulnerable, like she was about to burst into tears. “Okay, okay, I get it. You didn’t mean anything by it,” I said, softening a little. Seeing her like that tugged at something in me. I asked her if she wanted to leave the club life, told her I could help her find a regular job. She shook her head. She said she had reasons, unavoidable circumstances, for working there. Her name was Ashley, she told me. She grew up in some super remote, dirt-poor mountain area. She had four older brothers and one older sister. Because they were so poor, none of her brothers could afford to get married even though they were old enough. Her parents were worried sick. Originally, her parents wanted to basically trade her – marry her off and use the dowry money to get wives for her brothers. But with four brothers needing wives, even selling her off multiple times wouldn’t be enough. So, the only option was for her to go out and earn money to send back home. “I came here with a friend from my village,” she explained. “She’s been working here a long time. You can tell it pays really well. Her family built a three or four-story house back home, and both her brothers got married.” As she talked about this, Ashley’s eyes, which seemed so untouched by the world, started to shine. She looked hopeful, excited, her cheeks flushing pink. “Uh… so, do you actually know what working at a club like this involves?” Seeing her naivety, a pang of sympathy hit me. I frowned, my brow furrowing. She actually reached out and smoothed my forehead with her hand. “I know. It’s just sleeping with people, right? Look, last night, I successfully gave away my first time, didn’t I?” “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she continued. “I didn’t even finish elementary school before I had to quit and help my parents in the fields. I know a girl like me can’t find a good job in the city.” “Working here, the money’s fast and it’s good. What’s wrong with that? It’s just my body, right? They can have it. My life isn’t worth much anyway. I’m not afraid.” Ashley said it all so matter-of-factly. Hearing her put it like that, I suddenly felt like maybe I was the one being narrow-minded. What’s that saying? If I don’t have morals, you can’t guilt-trip me. Ashley’s blunt honesty kind of shut me down. All the preachy, concerned advice I wanted to give just wouldn’t come out. I got her contact info – added her on a messaging app – and sent her a decent chunk of money. “This is for you. Don’t rush to send it all home. Make sure you eat well, take care of yourself. Things are expensive in the city, don’t let yourself go without.” Ashley accepted the money instantly and even sent back a “Thanks, Boss!” sticker with a smiley face. Seeing her light up at the sight of the money, so obviously happy, a crazy thought popped into my head. She was new to this scene, didn’t know anything, and she’d given her virginity – something girls supposedly treasure – to me. I didn’t want this blank slate to get covered in all sorts of ugly colors. So, I just blurted it out, “How about you be my girlfriend? Quit the club. I’ll take care of you.” Ashley looked hesitant, opening her mouth like she wanted to say something. But maybe because she’d just taken my money, she didn’t actually refuse. Her eyes darted around for a second, then she asked me something totally out of the blue, “What’s your relationship with Leo?” I didn’t suspect anything, so I didn’t hold back. I told her straight up that Leo and I were childhood best friends, super tight. If I asked him for anything, he’d move mountains to help me out. Hearing this, Ashley’s eyes lit up again. She readily agreed to be my girlfriend. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. 03 Ashley had that innocent, girl-next-door vibe. She actually looked a lot like a famous actress known for her sweet, angelic image. Her personality was great too – really gentle and considerate. Aside from not having much education, she was pretty much the perfect kept woman, a little songbird in a gilded cage. So, we fell hard and fast, settling into this blissful, passionate life together. She took care of the apartment, cooking and cleaning like some kind of domestic goddess while I went out and made the money to support us both. Sometimes, I’d see her tending to plants on the balcony, looking so peaceful and content, and I’d actually think about marrying her, keeping her safe forever. We clicked in almost every way, but I always sensed this invisible barrier between us, something I couldn’t quite define. She was good to me, almost too good, in a way that felt… performed. Like she was deliberately trying to please me to get something in return. We were happy together for a while. The only slightly weird thing was how she’d occasionally ask questions about Leo. Nothing major, just little things. Once, I teased her about it. “What? You still got a thing for Leo?” “That’s ridiculous! How could I possibly like him?” she shot back defensively. “If you keep talking nonsense, I’m gonna have to get rough with you,” she added, playfully raising a small fist like she was going to punch my arm. I laughed it off and then asked the question that, looking back now, I regret more than anything. “Haha, yeah, I guess you’re right. With a great guy like me around, who’d still be thinking about him?” “He asked me to grab dinner this weekend. Wanna come along?” She pretended to hesitate for a second, then nodded yes. At the time, I figured that our first meeting at the club was also her first time seeing Leo. I assumed she was just struck by this guy who oozed bad-boy charm. I never imagined that her being with me was never about me. It was always about using me to get to Leo. Even when I walked in on them together, caught them red-handed, my mind couldn’t process it. I refused to believe it. A wave of dizziness washed over me; I almost passed out right there. When the hell did they start hooking up behind my back? 04 Thinking back, it finally clicked. They must have started sneaking around right after that dinner party. I remember that night, Ashley and I went together. Before we left, she spent ages getting ready, putting on makeup, picking out the perfect outfit. Seeing her looking even more beautiful than usual, I just felt proud, happy to show her off. No sense of danger at all. Having a girlfriend that stunning turned heads everywhere we went. Nothing seemed obviously wrong that night, just a casual dinner between friends. But if I really strained to find suspicious details… maybe it was how nervous and clumsy Ashley got when Leo showed up. She dropped and broke like, three glasses in a row. And later, when we’d all had a fair bit to drink, Ashley excused herself to go to the restroom. Leo followed her out almost immediately. They were both gone for a good half hour before they came back to the table separately. After Ashley returned, she wouldn’t meet Leo’s eyes for the rest of the night, and her face was flushed really red. At the time, I just assumed she’d had too much wine. Now I know better. It’s entirely possible that back then, thanks to me playing matchmaker without even knowing it, they hit it off and snuck off to the bathroom to do god knows what! Love is a blinding light, alright. Blinding me with how badly I was being played. I never thought Ashley could be that kind of person! No, wait. That’s wrong. I was the one who thought too highly of her, projecting some kind of idealized image onto her. She worked in a nightclub. How pure could she really be? I was the clown all along. Just fooling myself. Catching them in the act, I was furious. I lunged at Leo and just started wailing on him, punching him hard. He didn’t even seem mad, just kept that stupid grin on his face. “Dude, chill out, okay? It’s just a woman.” “Bros before hos, right? Friends are forever, girls are like clothes. So I tried on one of your shirts, big deal. Don’t let some chick ruin our friendship, man. Not worth it.” Seeing him act so casual about it, like it was nothing, snapped me back to reality. I realized I couldn’t associate with scum like this anymore, someone with such a warped sense of morality. That incident from a few years back, the one that cost lives, clearly hadn’t taught him a damn thing. After his dad bailed him out, he probably felt invincible, like he could do whatever he wanted without consequences. How could I have been friends with someone like this for so many years? That was my mistake. I own that. As for Ashley, after I caught them, we had a massive blowout fight. I demanded to know when she started hooking up with Leo, and why him? She was surprisingly honest. Said Leo was always her Plan A. He was the one she wanted from the start. She admitted she’d used my phone ages ago to send his contact info to herself and had been secretly talking to him ever since. That dinner party was just her opportunity to finally make her move on him. And me? I was just a tool, a stepping stone to get closer to Leo. The ultimate sucker, the biggest backup plan ever! “Don’t even ask me why I chose him,” she spat. “Aren’t you just embarrassing yourself?” “Because Leo’s family has money! He can give me a better life.” “I told you from the beginning, I have huge family responsibilities! I wasn’t lucky like you, an only child. I have to make serious money to buy houses and wives for my brothers!” “Honestly? Leo was my target from day one. I did a lot of prep work for it. Getting stuck with you was just bad luck, totally derailed my plans!” I watched Ashley pack her bags, ranting about how useless I was. Words formed in my throat, but I swallowed them down. I just stood there and watched her storm out. Could I blame her? Maybe. Mostly, I just hated her. Hated her and Leo both. Wished that pair of cheating dogs would get into a fatal car accident or meet some other miserable end! But even then, I never imagined that Ashley’s karma would arrive so quickly. 05 Some time after Ashley and I broke up, I went to the hospital for a routine check-up and ran into her completely by chance. She looked so different it took me a moment to even recognize her. I couldn’t connect the worn-out, almost old-looking woman standing before me with the innocent, fresh-faced beauty I remembered. Seeing the crumpled lab slip in her hand, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but I asked anyway, just to twist the knife a little. “How come Leo isn’t here with you?” I pretended to be concerned, but really, I was mocking her. So, this was the life you wanted, Ashley? Doesn’t look quite as glamorous as you probably imagined. “He… he’s busy, I guess,” she forced a pale smile. “This baby… he doesn’t want it.” I didn’t say anything else. But she started talking anyway, whether I wanted to hear it or not, pouring out everything that had happened since she left me. She said that because our friendship fell apart due to her, Leo was furious and took it all out on her. He blamed her, saying if she hadn’t tempted him, he and I would still be tight, wouldn’t have had that falling out. Despite Leo’s explosive temper, she hadn’t thought about leaving. Instead, she used every trick in the book, stopping at nothing to manipulate her way into marrying him, into becoming part of the family. We all knew what kind of person Leo was. So, it wasn’t exactly shocking to hear that after the wedding, he treated her horribly. Domestic violence was routine. Forcing her to get rid of pregnancies was routine. Bringing other women home to spend the night was even more routine. “Seriously?” I sneered, disgusted by this materialistic woman. “He treats you like that, and you still won’t leave? Just because he has money?” Risking your entire life for stuff you can’t take with you when you die – was it really worth it? “I have my reasons… things I have to do…” “Ugh, when you find out, you’ll understand,” Ashley sighed. She dropped that cryptic line, then hunched over, clutching her stomach, and walked away. Watching her lonely figure retreat down the hallway, I felt a mix of confusing emotions. What kind of spell had Leo cast on her? What made her willingly jump into this pit of fire and refuse to climb out, even when it was killing her? 06 I hated her, I really did. But seeing her life in such shambles, a flicker of pity sparked in me. Memories of the sweet times we shared started playing on repeat in my head. But I knew, deep down, there was absolutely no going back for us. Meeting her, loving her… it felt like a dream. Now the dream was over, and it was time to get back to my real life, the path I was supposed to be on. Time flew by, and suddenly I was hitting thirty. Pressured by my parents, I started going on arranged dates, meeting women through introductions. I eventually found someone whose background and life goals seemed compatible with mine. We clicked well enough, set a date, and planned the wedding. Looking at my gentle, well-mannered fiancée, I could already picture our future life together. We’d be respectful, polite, build a stable, quiet existence. But sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent, I’d find myself missing that other woman – the one with the innocent face but the spirit of a wildcat. Images of her, her smile, the way she moved, still flickered in the back of my mind. I wondered how she was doing, if she’d found any happiness after all. One morning after we got married, my wife was scrolling through her phone at the breakfast table and gasped. “Oh my god, this is horrifying!” “What’s so shocking you have to yell about it? Just eat your breakfast,” I grumbled without looking up, annoyed she was glued to her phone during a meal, making a scene. “I know, sorry, but this news story is just… wow. This woman, she poisoned her entire family-in-law! And then… she castrated her husband…” My wife trailed off, clapping a hand over her mouth, looking genuinely shaken and scared. “It’s a big world, lots of crazy stuff happens. Calm down,” I said, finishing the last of my orange juice and pushing my chair back, ready to leave for work. But what my wife said next froze me in place. Still looking at the news on her phone, she shook her head. “It’s such a waste, though. After killing them all, she turned herself in. Look at her picture – even without makeup, she’s really pretty. With a little effort, she’d be absolutely gorgeous. Why would someone throw their life away like this?” “Oh, right, her name is Ashley.”

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