During a live charity interview, the reporter asked a cancer patient if she had any regrets. The pale woman lowered her eyes, her voice dripping with sorrow: “I regret saying such horrible things to force the man I loved to break up with me when I was first diagnosed. I didn’t want to be a burden to him.” “I regret keeping the truth a secret all these years, letting him hate me for so long.” “But my biggest regret is that when he married my best friend, I didn’t have the courage to run onto the stage and steal him back.” Sitting in front of the screen, I froze. I recognized her instantly—that weak woman was my former best friend, and my husband Ethan’s first love, Chloe Higgins. The living room was dead silent. Beside me, Ethan had watched the entire interview. His usually calm face was now terrifyingly dark. A few seconds later, he grabbed his coat, muttered something about an emergency at the office, and rushed out. Instinctively, I followed him, only to hear his voice trembling on the phone: “Find out why Chloe went abroad back then. Find out if she’s really sick.” My footsteps halted. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. During college, Ethan and Chloe were the golden couple everyone envied. That was until the Vance family went bankrupt. Ethan hit rock bottom, and Chloe ruthlessly dumped him, saying the cruelest things. Even when he got down on his knees and begged, she never looked back. Shortly after, she moved abroad. During those dark days, everyone abandoned and mocked him. I was the only one who stayed by his side, helping him claw his way back to the top. Later, we got together and had been married for three years. To everyone else, we were the perfect couple. I always thought those old wounds had healed. But at this moment, I realized he had never truly let her go. I tossed and turned all night. The next morning, he came back—with a pale-looking Chloe. Our eyes met, and she forced a weak smile. “Hazel, long time no see.” Ethan spoke, his voice thick with heartache and guilt: “I checked everything. Chloe didn’t leave because my family went bankrupt. She was diagnosed with cancer and didn’t want to drag me down, so she forced me away.” The way he looked at Chloe was so tender it stung. He had never looked at me like that. “The doctors say she doesn’t have much time left. Chloe’s final wish is to be my wife for seven days to make up for our past regrets.” Every word stabbed my heart. To fulfill his first love’s dying wish, he was willing to trample on his current wife’s dignity. My eyes burned, and my chest ached terribly. I swallowed all my humiliation and whispered: “Okay. I agree.” Ethan was stunned, but he didn’t offer a single word of comfort. He turned, supported Chloe, and walked straight into the guest bedroom. I was left standing alone in the massive living room. What he didn’t know was that just three days ago, I had also been diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer. I slowly walked back to the master bedroom, locked the door, and made a call. “Doctor, I agree to go abroad for treatment. I’ll arrive in London in seven days.” During our three years of marriage, Ethan took me to London for a vacation every year. I had once asked him why we always went to London. He just smiled, ruffled my hair, and said nothing. Now that I thought about it, during those afternoons walking down the streets of London, holding my hand and feeding pigeons while staring into the crowd—was he just hoping to catch a glimpse of the face he desperately missed? Every year on Chloe’s birthday, he would lock himself in his study all night, claiming he had work to do. My eyes welled up, and tears rolled down my cheeks.

For dinner, Ethan made a feast, entirely composed of Chloe’s favorite dishes. She took two bites, put down her fork, and said she had no appetite. He immediately put down his bowl and began coaxing her gently. Sitting across from them, I felt like a complete stranger. I took a bite of food, but a sudden wave of nausea hit me. I covered my mouth and rushed to the bathroom to dry heave. When I walked out, pale and leaning against the wall, I met his cold gaze: “Hazel Vance, have you had enough? Chloe is the one who is actually sick. Do you have to pretend to be sick just to steal the spotlight?” His words were like needles piercing my heart. Usually, my illness only caused stomach pain. I had never felt this nauseous before. An absurd thought popped into my head. He didn’t look at me again, turning back to comfort Chloe. The next day, I went to the hospital in secret. The moment I got the lab results, my mind went entirely blank. I was seven weeks pregnant. Holding the report, my fingers trembled as I walked out of the clinic, only to run straight into Chloe. She smiled and asked what I was doing there. I instinctively hid the report behind my back. She smugly mentioned that Ethan was worried about her and insisted on bringing her for a checkup. Just then, an out-of-control motorcycle came swerving directly toward us. A figure rushed over, pulling Chloe into his arms to shield her. I was knocked hard to the ground by the motorcycle. My knees and palms scraped open, and a dull, throbbing pain shot through my lower abdomen. Trembling in pain, I called out his name. But Ethan, holding a startled Chloe, only threw a cold glance my way: “Just bear with it for a bit. For these seven days, I’m Chloe’s husband. I have to be responsible for her.” With that, he scooped Chloe up and walked away without looking back. I lay on the cold ground. The blood from my palm smeared across the pregnancy report. Watching their retreating figures, my tears fell silently. A kind passerby ended up sending me to the ER. The pain in my abdomen and stomach came in agonizing waves until I finally went numb. The doctor walked in with my chart, letting out a sigh of relief. He said the baby was temporarily fine but showed signs of a threatened miscarriage. After looking at my medical history, his brow furrowed deeply: “You have late-stage stomach cancer? What do you plan to do with this pregnancy?” Lying on the bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling and shook my head. The doctor sighed and told me to discuss it with my husband as soon as possible. The word “husband” felt like a knife twisting in my chest. The ward door was pushed open, and Ethan walked in, his brow furrowed as he looked at my pale face: “How did you end up like this?” The doctor was about to speak, but I cut him off, asking him to leave first. Ethan leaned against the doorframe, casually glancing at my scraped arms. “Are you okay?” he asked half-heartedly. I shook my head slightly. “Pack up. We need to go to City Hall in a bit.” “Why?” “To get a divorce. Chloe has never taken wedding photos at City Hall. It’s her dream. We’ll get a temporary divorce so I can register and take photos with her. Don’t overthink it. We’ll remarry after the seven days are up.” Hearing his casual tone, I clutched the blanket until my knuckles turned white. I remembered the day we got married. He had held my hand under the bright sun, looking at me with pure sincerity, promising that marriage was sacred and he would love me forever. Now, those same eyes held nothing but indifference and entitlement. My heart felt like it had been ripped open. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, there was nothing but dead silence: “Okay. I agree.”

Half an hour later, the three of us stood in the lobby of City Hall. Ethan signed the divorce papers without a second thought. In the blink of an eye, he was leading Chloe to the photo area. He had somehow prepared a white veil beforehand, gently pinning it into her hair. A professional photographer was already waiting. Chloe, wearing the veil, glanced at me and immediately put on a guilty, anxious act. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Ethan…” Ethan held her hand tightly. “If you hadn’t gotten sick and left, you would have been the one marrying me in the first place.” With a flash, the camera captured them looking like a perfect, loving couple. I stood in the corner of the lobby, clutching my divorce certificate. A sharp, sudden spasm in my stomach made me double over in pain. Ethan walked over with Chloe, his brow furrowing slightly when he saw me like this. Biting my lip, my voice shook as I asked, “Can you drive me home? I really don’t feel well.” Without hesitation, he cut me off. “I made appointments at the jewelry store and bridal boutique to try on rings with Chloe. Just take a cab.” His tone was dismissive. I stood at the entrance of City Hall, watching them drive away. I tried hailing several cabs, but none stopped. Eventually, I had to drag my feet and slowly walk back to the villa. By the time I reached the house, my body felt like it was falling apart. My hands shook as I poured a couple of pills, swallowed them with cold water, and curled up on the bed, falling into a heavy sleep. I dreamed of many years ago, right after the Vance family went bankrupt. I had gone to find Chloe, wanting to persuade her to go back and support Ethan. But her face was filled with disdain as she dragged her suitcase. She sneered, “I only stayed with him because his family was rich. Now that he has nothing, why should I suffer with him?” I begged her, but she just laughed and walked away without looking back. Back then, Chloe looked perfectly healthy, showing absolutely no signs of illness. I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. It was pitch black outside, and the house was dead quiet. I got up to get a glass of water. As I reached the stairs, I heard a woman’s hushed, smug voice on the phone. It was Chloe: “Don’t worry, he already brought me home and we registered our marriage. Our plan is almost complete. When his family went bankrupt, I left because I didn’t want to live like a beggar. Now that he’s rich again, of course I’m coming back. Hurry up and find someone to pose as a specialist. We’ll say my cancer miraculously went into remission after treatment. Once I secure my position as Mrs. Vance, you’ll get your cut. Hazel? Don’t worry about her. Ethan has only ever loved me. She’s just a cheap substitute who can’t do anything.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I took a step back in shock and accidentally made a sound. The phone call cut off instantly. Chloe snapped her head up. When our eyes met, panic flashed across her face. “You’re not sick at all,” I said. “You left him back then because he was poor.” Right then, the sound of keys jingling came from the front door. Chloe’s eyes flicked to the door, and she suddenly threw herself backward, rolling down the stairs. Her forehead slammed against the steps, bleeding instantly. Ethan rushed in and gathered her into his arms. Chloe sobbed weakly, “I just wanted to talk to Hazel about the past… but she pushed me down the stairs…” Ethan whipped his head up to look at me, his eyes burning with absolute rage: “Hazel Vance! She is a dying patient, and you still can’t tolerate her? How can you be so vicious?!” “I didn’t push her! She’s faking it! She left you back then because you were poor!” “Shut up! She’s this sick, and you’re still throwing dirt on her! I never realized how shameless you could be!” He scooped Chloe up, giving me a look filled with pure hatred, and rushed out the door.

I was left alone in the massive villa. My hands shook as I sent him text after text on Snapchat: “She’s faking it! Check her medical records!” But my messages went unanswered. I decided to go to the hospital myself. I couldn’t let Chloe frame me like this. But as I neared the hospital, a black van screeched to a halt in front of me. A pair of strong arms clamped over my mouth and dragged me inside. I was taken to an abandoned warehouse. A brutal-looking, middle-aged man stood before me, slamming his foot onto the back of my hand. Punches and kicks rained down on me, each strike delivered with full force. I instinctively curled into a ball to protect my stomach. But warm blood still began to flow down my thighs. My vision blurred, and I blacked out. I don’t know how much time passed, but I felt a jarring sensation as I slowly regained a sliver of consciousness. Half-awake, I heard people whispering nearby about “cancer” and “miscarriage.” When I finally opened my eyes, I was in a sterile white hospital room. Ethan sat by the bed, his face grim, staring at me with a mix of fury and disappointment. My throat was dry. My first instinct was to touch my stomach. “The baby…” my voice rasped. “How is the baby?” “The baby?” He let out a cold, mocking laugh. “You really are ruthless, Hazel. Just to frame Chloe, you’d even use our own child to put on a show. The thug you hired to beat you up has already confessed. He said you paid him to kidnap and beat you so you could blame it on Chloe. You sacrificed your own baby just to ruin her?” He looked at my flat stomach, a complex flash of emotion crossing his eyes: “I told you Chloe is dying. Why do you have to be so cruel? Didn’t we both look forward to this child? I always thought you were sweet and kind. It turns out you’ve been putting on an act all these years. It’s pathetic.” Every single word was like a poisoned blade carving out my heart. When he had nothing, when everyone shunned him, I was the one who stayed by his side, eating instant noodles and squeezing into cheap rentals with him. Back then, he would stroke my hair and say, “Hazel, you’re the kindest, strongest girl I’ve ever met.” Now, because of a few lies from Chloe, he treated me like trash. A violent spasm of pain tore through my chest. I opened my mouth, but before a word could come out, a metallic taste filled my throat. I leaned over and coughed up a pool of bright red blood. Ethan’s face paled instantly. He reached out to help me, but the doctors rushed in. While performing emergency checks, the head doctor barked at him: “What kind of husband are you?! Didn’t you know your wife has late-stage stomach cancer?! Losing the baby was already a massive physical blow, and you’re still stressing her out?!” Ethan froze, his mind going completely blank. Chloe threw herself into his arms, sobbing, “How could Hazel have cancer too? Is she… is she pretending because she saw how much you care about me?” Ethan looked down at me. “Do you really have stomach cancer?” I leaned against the headboard, not even bothering to open my eyes. Chloe looked up from his chest, her face full of forced sincerity. “Why don’t the two of us get a full checkup together? It’ll prove I’m not lying, and it’ll clear your name too, Hazel.” Before I could even speak, Ethan agreed. I was forced to undergo a series of tests. Soon, both reports were brought to the room. Ethan’s hands shook as he held them. When he saw the results, his face twisted in rage, and he slammed the papers onto my face: “See for yourself! Chloe is the one with cancer! Hazel Vance, you’d even fake an illness like this! Is there anything you won’t do?!” I looked down at the report, then at Chloe. She kept her head low to play the victim, but a smug smirk played on her lips. I understood instantly. The reports had been switched. I didn’t argue or explain. Since the day she returned, he had never believed a single word I said anyway. Ethan took my silence as a confession, his anger flaring even hotter: “Chloe wants chicken soup. Go back home, make some, and bring it over. Consider it your apology for slandering her.” I still didn’t say a word. I pulled back the blanket, got out of bed, and walked out of the ward with unsteady steps. I went back to the villa, but I didn’t go to the kitchen. Instead, I started packing my things. Three years of marriage, and all my belongings fit into a single suitcase. I gently touched my flat stomach. The baby was gone, my love was dead, and there was nothing left to hold onto. Grabbing my passport and the ticket I had booked days ago, I headed straight for the airport. I switched off my phone and threw it to the very bottom of my suitcase. At the hospital, Ethan waited for hours without a sign of me. He called me repeatedly, but it went straight to voicemail. His face darkened, assuming I was just being childish and throwing a tantrum. My primary doctor walked in with my chart, frowning. “Where is Hazel Vance? She has late-stage stomach cancer and needs bed rest. How could you let her wander off?” Ethan froze, his voice cold. “You must have made a mistake. She isn’t sick. The one with cancer is Chloe.” The doctor looked at him like he had heard the most ridiculous joke: “Are you out of your mind? The day she was admitted, the entire oncology department confirmed her diagnosis of terminal stomach cancer. As for this Miss Higgins, she claims she has cancer, but her charts show she is perfectly healthy!”

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The property management actually wanted me to pay my neighbor across the hall fifteen thousand dollars. All because I flipped the breaker to my own private parking spot. I paid forty-five thousand dollars for that deeded underground parking space, which came with a private EV charging port. For the past six months, my monthly electricity bill had been through the roof—hitting over a hundred dollars a month. But I drove a gas-powered sedan. The hybrid SUV that had been secretly plugging into my charger belonged to Brandon, the son of my neighbor across the hall, Mildred Gable. When I tried to reason with her, she played dumb. When I installed a parking lock, she broke it with a crowbar. Finally, I resorted to my ultimate move—I cut off the power to the charger and flipped the breaker. I thought that would be the end of it. Three days later, the property manager and two security guards blocked my door. He handed me a sheet of paper. The reason for the claim made me laugh out loud right then and there.

I had been living in this luxury condo building for a year. When I bought the apartment, I also bought a private parking spot on the B1 level. The space was huge and came with its own power supply and EV charger, left behind by the previous owner. Since I didn’t own an electric car and drove an older gas sedan, the charger had just been sitting idle. A few months ago, I was traveling a lot for work and often left my car at the office. When I finally had a moment to check my utility bills, I noticed my parking spot’s electricity costs had spiked by nearly a hundred dollars. This month, it was over a hundred and twenty. I thought the meter was broken. But when I went down to the garage to check, I froze. Parked right in my spot was a brand-new, white hybrid SUV. The charging nozzle was firmly plugged into the car, its indicator light blinking happily. I recognized the car immediately. It belonged to Brandon, the son of my neighbor, Mildred Gable. Mildred was in her fifties and liked to pretend she was the “neighborhood sweetheart.” Whenever anything happened in the building, she was always there to stick her nose in. When I first moved in, she had knocked on my door a few times to borrow coffee pods and sugar. I never expected that she would not only borrow sugar, but also my parking spot and my electricity. I didn’t make a scene. I took a photo and posted it in the building’s Snapchat group. “Whose car is this? You’ve parked in the wrong spot. Please move it.” After half an hour, there was no reply. I went straight across the hall and knocked on her door. Mildred opened it, holding a spatula. “Oh, Lynn! What’s up?” “Mrs. Gable, is your son’s car parked in my spot? He’s also using my private EV charger.” Her eyes darted around, and she slapped her thigh. “Oh, goodness! What a misunderstanding. My boy came home late last night and couldn’t find a spot. He saw yours was empty and just borrowed it for the night. The charging cable? Oh, he probably just plugged it in on a whim. Young boys don’t know any better.” Borrowed for the night? I pulled up the utility bill on my phone. “Mrs. Gable, this bill isn’t for just one night. I checked the app’s history, and there have been charging records for months.” Mildred’s expression shifted, but she quickly forced a smile. “We’re neighbors, why be so petty? It’s just a few dollars of electricity. I’ll have him throw you a small tip later.” With that, she slammed the door in my face. Standing in the hallway, I laughed out loud from sheer anger. It wasn’t just “a few dollars.” It was hundreds of dollars. And she hadn’t even mentioned moving the car. When I went downstairs that evening, the car was still there. I called the building’s security guard. The guard ran the plates and called Brandon. Brandon sounded incredibly annoyed on the phone. “I’m out of town on business, and I took the keys with me. I can’t move it. Just wait until I get back this weekend.” The call disconnected. The guard looked at me helplessly. “Ms. Carter, you see… the owner isn’t here. We can’t tow it from a private deeded spot without a formal process.” I got it. They were betting on the fact that I couldn’t do anything to them.

The next day, I took a half-day off work. I hired someone to install a heavy-duty smart parking lock in my space. At the same time, I put a passcode lockbox over the EV charger. Once that was done, I parked my own car in the spot, raised the smart lock, and enjoyed the sudden peace. That evening, my front door was pounded on so hard it shook. I looked through the peephole. It was Mildred. She was furious. I opened the door. “Lynn, what is the meaning of this? Why did you put a lock on our parking spot?” I thought I had misheard her. “Your parking spot?” “Yes! You don’t even use that spot often! My son has been parking there for six months. It’s basically ours now! You need to remove that stupid lock right now. My son’s car is sitting outside in the rain!” Her sheer audacity blew my mind. “Mrs. Gable, the deed to that spot has my name on it. I installed a lock to protect my private property. Is there a problem? Also, you need to pay for the past six months of electricity. It’s six hundred dollars.” I handed her the printed bill. She slapped it out of my hand. “What electricity bill! That charger was just gathering dust anyway. My son was doing you a favor by using it! Young people these days have absolutely no respect or community spirit!” She walked away, cursing under her breath. I ignored her, closed the door, and went to bed. I thought this would be the end of it. But I had underestimated her lack of decency. The next morning, I went down to the garage to drive to work. When I reached my spot, I froze. The heavy steel smart parking lock had been brutally smashed and bent out of shape. The locking mechanism was completely destroyed. And parked in my spot, once again, was the white hybrid SUV. The passcode lockbox on the charger had been pried open, and the charging nozzle was plugged into the car. A wave of fury rushed straight to my head. This wasn’t just petty behavior anymore; this was vandalism and harassment. I immediately called the police. When the officers arrived, they pulled up the garage surveillance footage. The video was crystal clear. At 2:00 AM, Mildred had showed up with a sledgehammer and spent ten minutes pounding on my lock. Then, her son drove his car in, parked comfortably, and plugged in the charger. Facing the police, Mildred started to wail and play the victim. “Officers, you have to help us! This woman is bullying a poor, lonely widow and her son! So what if I broke a useless piece of metal?” The police were fair. They ruled it as criminal mischief and intentional damage to private property. They ordered Mildred to pay for the damaged lock and lockbox immediately and told Brandon to move the car. Under the threat of arrest, Brandon reluctantly drove his car away. He Venmoed me eight hundred dollars for the damages. After the police left, Mildred stood in the hallway screaming curses for half an hour. I paid her no mind. I bought an even more heavy-duty, pressure-resistant smart lock. To be safe, I also installed a hidden, high-definition micro-camera on the pipe directly above my parking spot. It streamed live directly to my phone. Over the next few days, the lock remained intact. But my phone started receiving motion alerts from the camera every single night. When I tapped on the alerts, I saw Mildred appearing by my parking spot like a ghost in the dead of night. She didn’t smash the lock anymore. Instead, she started dumping trash on my spot. Sometimes it was rotting food scraps, sometimes it was used sanitary pads. Once, she even brought her unleashed toy poodle to poop directly on my smart lock. It was absolutely repulsive. When I complained to the property management, they said it was a “neighbor dispute” and they could only “warn” her. When I confronted her, she denied everything, claiming the person in the footage just looked like her. Every morning, I had to suppress my disgust to clean up my parking spot. I was done playing nice. If you love parking and charging here so much, I’ll let you have your fill. That weekend, I hired a professional electrician. I didn’t bother fixing the passcode box. Instead, I had the electrician install a smart remote breaker switch inside the main electrical panel. With a single tap on my phone app, I could cut off the power to the charger completely. Then, I lowered the parking lock and drove my car out for a three-day road trip. Before leaving, I left the parking spot wide open. The charging nozzle was hung neatly on the dock. Like a trap waiting to be sprung. Sure enough. As soon as I hit the highway, my phone buzzed with a camera alert. The white hybrid SUV eagerly slid into my spot. Brandon got out and smoothly plugged in the charger. Mildred stood nearby, grinning ear to ear. She even spat on the pillar next to my spot. “At least she finally learned some manners!” Listening to the audio from the camera feed, a cold smile spread across my face. I didn’t turn off the power right away. I waited. I waited until 11:00 PM.

I estimated that his car’s battery was about half-full. I opened the remote app on my phone. And tapped the “Power Off” button. On the camera feed, the indicator light on the EV charger died instantly. His car was now in a state of sudden, forced power interruption mid-charge. For some electric and hybrid vehicles, a sudden power cut during high-voltage charging can trigger a battery protection lockout, preventing the car from starting or even unlocking. I went to sleep peacefully. The next day, I spent the entire day sightseeing. When I returned to my hotel room that evening, I opened the saved footage. The show was spectacular. 7:00 AM. Brandon appeared in the garage dressed in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses. It looked like he was off to a high-profile blind date or a meeting with a major client. He opened the car door and got in. A few minutes later, he climbed out, utterly furious. He kicked the tires violently. The car wouldn’t start. He called for a tow truck. After more than two hours of waiting, the tow truck finally arrived. He threw the bouquet of roses onto the ground in rage and left with the tow truck. Watching the footage, I was in a fantastic mood. That’s what you call instant karma. I turned the power back on via my phone. And continued my vacation. Three days later, I returned to the building. As soon as I walked into the lobby, I was intercepted by the property manager, Mr. Miller. Two security guards stood behind him, looking extremely nervous. “Ms. Carter, you’re finally back! Something terrible has happened!” He handed me a sheet of paper. I looked at it. It was a handwritten claim form. Claimant: Brandon Gable. Claim Amount: Fifteen thousand dollars. The reasons were written in messy, aggressive handwriting: “Because of Lynn Carter’s malicious power shutoff, my car’s battery management system motherboard was fried. Repair cost: $3,000. Because the car was broken, I missed an exclusive matchmaking date with a multi-millionaire heiress. Mental distress: $7,000. Because of the missed date, I was depressed and got into an argument with my boss, resulting in my termination. Lost wages: $5,000. Total: $15,000.” He also demanded a formal apology and that I transfer the deed of my parking spot to his family as compensation. When I finished reading, I wasn’t even angry. I just found it incredibly absurd. “Mr. Miller, is this some new kind of extortion?” I flicked the paper. Mr. Miller wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Ms. Carter, Mrs. Gable is currently lying on the floor in the HOA office. She says if you don’t pay up, she’ll sue the building and die right there. We are out of options. Look…” “If she wants to cause a scene in your office, you should call the cops. Why are you coming to me?” “But she said you flipped the breaker! Ms. Carter, you did go a bit too far this time. Even if it is your electricity, cutting it off suddenly and damaging their car makes you partly liable.” Mr. Miller was clearly trying to play peacemaker. He wanted to sacrifice my rights to make his own trouble go away. “It’s my private electric meter. I can turn it on or off whenever I want. He trespassed on my private property and stole my electricity. I haven’t even settled that score with him yet.” My tone was cold and firm. “But…” “No buts. Go tell her she won’t get a single penny. If she has the guts, sue me in court. Also, I will be filing a police report against her son for utility theft immediately.” I turned on my heel and walked away. Mr. Miller called out behind me, “Ms. Carter, there’s a mediation meeting at 3:00 PM today. Please, you must attend!” I ignored him and went upstairs. Once home, I compiled all my evidence. The past six months of utility bills, the timestamps of every charge. The security footage of them breaking the lock, dumping trash, and stealing power. Along with the copy of the previous police report. At 3:00 PM sharp, I walked into the HOA mediation room. Before I even entered, I could hear Mildred screaming like a slaughtered pig. “My poor baby! He’s almost thirty and hasn’t even found a wife! His whole life has been ruined by that wicked woman!” I pushed the door open. Inside sat Sarah from the community mediation board, Mr. Miller, and a few neighbors who had come to watch the drama. Mildred was sitting on the floor, wailing. Her son, Brandon, sat next to her with a dark, sullen face, staring at his phone. Seeing me walk in, Mildred sprang up like a coiled spring, pointing her finger right at my nose. “You little bitch! You owe my son his wife! You owe him his job!”

I sidestepped her pointing finger and sat down across the table. Sarah, the community mediator, tapped on the table. “Everyone, sit down and speak calmly. Lynn, Mrs. Gable claims you intentionally damaged her son’s vehicle, leading to severe consequences. What do you have to say about this?” I looked at Sarah and placed my bag on the table. “I damaged his car? Severe consequences?” I let out a cold laugh. “Where is the proof?” Hearing this, Mildred shrieked, “What more proof do you need! My son went to drive his car that morning, and it wouldn’t even start! If it wasn’t you flipping the breaker, what else could it be? You are a malicious, evil woman!” Brandon slowly pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase and slapped it on the table. It was a vehicle inspection and repair estimate bearing an official dealership stamp. “Ms. Carter, this is the official diagnostic report and damage assessment from the dealership.” Brandon pushed his glasses up his nose, putting on a show of being a reasonable, educated man. “Because you maliciously cut off the power while the vehicle was charging, it caused a sudden short circuit that fried the battery management motherboard. The repair bill plus labor comes to exactly three thousand dollars.” He paused, his eyes turning cold and threatening. “As for missing my date and getting fired due to distress, I’m letting you off easy by asking for twelve thousand dollars. If you refuse to pay, we will see you in court. By then, you’ll not only pay the damages, but all our legal fees as well.” The neighbors in the room began to whisper. “Three thousand dollars for a repair? Is flipping a breaker really that serious?” “Even if Mrs. Gable’s family shouldn’t have parked there, Lynn cutting the power like that was pretty extreme.” “Yeah, we’re all neighbors. She should have just let it go.” Seeing the tide turn, Mr. Miller quickly chimed in. “Ms. Carter, this has gone too far. How about this? You apologize to the Gable family and pay a couple of thousand dollars for the repairs to settle this. You’re a single young woman; going to court will only disrupt your work.” Sarah also nodded. “Lynn, you did play a part in this. Cutting off power like that can be dangerous.” Classic victim-blaming. Looking at the smug grin on Mildred’s face and the mocking sneer on Brandon’s, I didn’t lose my temper. I unzipped my bag, pulled out a stack of documents I had prepared, and set down an iPad. “Sarah, since Mr. Gable brought up court, let’s talk with facts and evidence.” I handed the first document to Sarah. “This is the smart log history of my EV charger. Brandon, you claim my ‘malicious shutoff’ fried your motherboard, right?” Brandon sneered. “Duh. Who else could it be?” I tapped a video on my iPad and cast it to the TV screen in the room. “I’m afraid you don’t understand modern smart appliances. The remote switch I installed isn’t a crude physical breaker. It uses a smart microchip to gradually ramp down the current safely. If you look at the current graph in the log, it’s a smooth, controlled decline that fully complies with national safety standards. It is physically impossible for it to cause a short circuit.” Brandon’s face paled slightly. But I didn’t give him a chance to breathe. I swiped to the next slide. “So, how did your motherboard actually get fried? Well, you have your mother’s ‘good habits’ to thank for that.” The image on the TV changed. It was the high-definition footage from the hidden camera directly above my parking spot. The timestamp showed 3:00 AM on the night of the power cut. Mildred, as usual, was carrying a dripping bag of smelly food scraps, sneaking around my parking spot. To avoid being seen by passing cars, she rammed the bag of garbage deep underneath Brandon’s hybrid SUV. I sped up the footage. By 4:30 AM, several large sewer rats, lured by the smell, scurried out of the garage drains. After feasting on the garbage, they crawled up into the undercarriage of the car. One of the rats began frantically chewing through the high-voltage wiring harness near the battery. “Brandon, your motherboard didn’t fry because of a power cut. It fried because your mother stuffed rotting garbage under your car, attracting rats that chewed through your high-voltage wires, causing a massive short circuit.” I slammed a high-definition, zoomed-in screenshot onto the table. “Would you like me to send this video to your dealership’s service department so they can re-evaluate the cause of the damage?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “445085”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

At two in the morning, I heard my husband, David, on the balcony. He was on the phone. “Babe, that old witch is checking on me again. It’s so annoying. Once my project bonus comes in next month, I’ll buy you that bag.” But just three days ago, he had told me the bonus was canceled and asked me to cut back on spending. I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I went to the bank the next day to see my best friend, Ashley. When she printed out the financial statements, the truth stared me in the face. He hadn’t just lied to me. He had also taken out over two hundred thousand dollars in shady online loans just to keep that woman happy. When his mother found out, her first reaction was, “Well, men will wander. It’s normal.” A month later, in the bank’s VIP room, I finished reading the very last line of the transaction history. I looked up at him. “That project bonus you’re getting next month… is it even enough to cover this massive hole?” It was 2:03 AM. I heard the sound of a key sliding into the lock. Our bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. A thin sliver of light from the hallway crept in through the crack. My back was turned to the door. I stayed on my side, keeping my breathing slow and steady, pretending to be asleep. David’s footsteps crossed the living room. Instead of coming into the bedroom, he went straight to the balcony. He pulled the balcony door shut. The double-paned glass muffled his voice into a low hum. I opened my eyes, staring at the shadow shifting on the curtains. He was on the phone. I quietly turned over and pressed my ear against the pillow. In the dead silence of the night, I could faintly make out a few words. “Babe… I miss you too…” My heart sank a little, but it didn’t completely break. After all these years, this wasn’t the first time he’d said things like this. Whenever he drank too much and bragged with his friends, he’d say anything. Just last month, at a dinner party, he told someone, “That old witch at home? I can’t get rid of her even if I wanted to.” I was sitting right next to him. I heard every word. But I swallowed my pride. I’m forty-two. What would a divorce even get me? Our son just started middle school, which is a crucial time for him. David’s mother, Martha, is in poor health and constantly in and out of the hospital. If I leave, who’s going to take care of her? I ran through all these excuses in my head, preparing to go back to sleep. Then, I heard the next sentence. “The old witch is checking up on me again. It’s so annoying.” “Don’t worry. Once my project bonus comes in next month, I’ll buy you that designer bag.” My hands clenched into fists under the blanket. Project bonus. Next month. Just two days ago, he told me the company was doing poorly. He said all quarterly bonuses, year-end bonuses, and project bonuses were canceled. He told me to watch our budget. He asked me to hold off on our son’s tutoring classes and said we shouldn’t replace our five-year-old refrigerator just yet. I believed him. I even felt bad for him, telling him he worked too hard and that we didn’t need to worry about money. The balcony door slid open. Footsteps moved toward the bedroom. I closed my eyes, adjusted my breathing, loosened my fists, and went back to my sleeping posture. David walked in, smelling of cheap cologne, alcohol, and stale cigarettes. He stood by the bed for a few seconds. I could feel him looking at me. Then he yawned and headed to the bathroom. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. His words kept looping in my head. The bathroom door opened, David climbed into bed, and within two minutes, he was snoring loudly. I kept my eyes open until dawn. The next morning, I got up and made breakfast as usual. David loves fresh bagels. Every weekend, I get up early to buy them from the bakery down the street. He got up at 8:30, sat at the dining table in his pajamas, and took a bite of his bagel. “It’s Saturday. Why did you get up so early?” “Just used to it,” I said, placing his coffee in front of him. “Is that project bonus from your company really completely canceled?” His hand paused mid-air, then he kept chewing. “Completely gone. Not a single penny. Finance said we’ll have to wait until next year to see.” “They didn’t keep any of it?” “What is that supposed to mean?” He slammed the bagel onto the table. “I said it’s gone, so it’s gone! Are you auditing me now?” Our son poked his head out of his room. “Dad, why are you yelling?” David glared at me, grabbed his jacket, and walked out the door. The door slammed shut with a loud bang. My son looked at me. “Mom, what is Dad’s problem today?” “Nothing,” I said, taking his plate. “Finish up and go do your homework.” That afternoon, I went to the bank to see my best friend. Ashley received me in the private VIP room. Seeing the look on my face, she asked, “What’s wrong, Vivian?” “I need you to check something for me.” “What is it?” “David’s transaction history.” Ashley froze for a second. She didn’t ask why. She just turned on her computer. Three minutes later, she stared at the screen, hesitating to speak. “Just tell me,” I said. “I can handle it.” She turned the monitor toward me. For the past three months, the transaction history on David’s primary salary account was clean. But there was another credit card—one I never knew existed. Its transaction history was packed. Every Wednesday, a luxury hotel: $698. Every Wednesday, a high-end restaurant: $488. From the 15th to the 18th of last month, a trip to a nearby resort town: train tickets, hotels, and tourist spots, totaling over $6,000. And last week, a charge at a luxury boutique: $13,800. Ashley looked at me and asked softly, “Do you want me to keep scrolling?” “Keep going.” She scrolled down. Last Saturday—the exact day I told him we could hold off on buying a new refrigerator—there was a charge at a jewelry store: $8,800. I stared at that number for a long time. “Ashley,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm. “I need you to do me a favor.”

On Wednesday at 5:00 PM, David changed into a sportswear set, grabbed his tennis gear, and headed out. “I’m playing tennis with Marcus and the guys. I’ll be back late.” I stood by the kitchen door, watching him change his shoes. “What time will you be back?” “Depends. Probably around eight or nine,” he replied without looking up. “Don’t wait up for dinner.” The door closed. I walked to the window and watched him walk downstairs, get into his car, and drive off. The car turned east. The tennis club was to the west. I pulled out my phone and sent a Snapchat message to his buddy, Marcus: “Hey Marcus, is David playing tennis with you guys today? What time do you think you’ll finish? I’m planning dinner.” Two minutes later, Marcus replied: “Tennis? No, I’m working overtime today. We didn’t schedule anything. Did he get the days mixed up?” I put my phone down. I walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, and pulled out a black dress from the very back—one I had bought two years ago but never wore. At 6:00 PM, I arrived at the hotel. The lobby was quiet. Soft piano music drifted from a corner. I found a seat in the lounge area, directly facing the elevators. At 6:23 PM, David walked out of the elevator. He had changed out of his sportswear. He was wearing a casual designer suit I had never seen before. His hair was perfectly styled with gel. His arm was wrapped around a woman. She was much younger than him, wearing a tight red dress, holding a handbag—the exact $13,800 bag from the statement. They walked toward the exit, laughing and talking. David leaned in, whispering into her ear. The woman giggled, playfully pushing him away and tapping his chest. I sat in the lounge, completely still. They walked right past me, barely three yards away. Neither of them looked in my direction. They pushed the glass doors open and got into a taxi waiting outside. I took out my phone and snapped a photo of them. At 9:40 PM, David came home. He was back in his sportswear. His hair was slightly damp, looking like he had just showered. “How was the game?” I asked. “Not bad. Got a good sweat in,” he said, tossing his tennis bag by the door. “Marcus’s game is getting worse and worse.” “Did you eat? I saved some dinner for you.” “Yeah, I grabbed a steak with Marcus and the guys.” I nodded and went back to watching TV. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I opened my phone, pulled up the photo of the red dress, the $13,800 bag, his profile, and her smile. I pressed delete. The following Wednesday, I followed him to the same hotel. At 5:40 PM, he left his office. Instead of coming home, he took a cab straight to the hotel. At 6:00 PM sharp, the woman arrived. I sat in the coffee shop across the street, watching them walk into the lobby together through the window. An hour later, I received a text from David: “Having dinner with Marcus and the guys tonight. Back late.” I didn’t reply. That night at 11:00 PM, he returned, quietly opening the door. I lay in bed, keeping my breathing steady. He made a few calls in the living room, whispering. I only caught one sentence: “Next time I go on a business trip, let’s go somewhere further.” Business trip. I closed my eyes, repeating those words in my mind. The next day, I went back to Ashley’s bank. “Help me check something,” I said, sliding David’s ID number across the desk. “All of his travel bookings for the next three months.” Ashley looked at me, asked no questions, and started typing. Ten minutes later, she handed me a printout. Next month, from the 15th to the 18th. Miami. Two round-trip tickets. A hotel room with a king-sized bed. I folded the paper and slipped it into my purse. “Ashley,” I said. “The plan we talked about last time? We can start preparing now.”

My mother-in-law, Martha, came over on a Saturday afternoon. I was washing dishes in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. David answered it. “Mom? What are you doing here?” “Am I not allowed to visit?” Martha’s voice drifted from the living room. “I came to see my grandson. Is that a crime?” I dried my hands and walked out of the kitchen. Martha was already sitting on the sofa, with two plastic bags of groceries beside her. She nodded at me. “Vivian, David said you haven’t been feeling well lately. I came to check on you.” I glanced at David. He was staring at his phone, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m fine,” I said. “Have a seat. Let me get you some water.” “No need, no need,” Martha waved her hand. “I’m not thirsty.” “David, when is your project bonus coming in? Your brother Justin needs the money.” My hand holding the water glass froze. David looked up. “Mom, I told you, the bonus was canceled. I didn’t get a dime.” “Canceled?” Martha’s voice went up an octave. “How could it be canceled? Justin already made arrangements. He’s renovating his place after the holidays, and he’s just short of this cash.” “It really was canceled. Why would I lie to you?” “Then figure something else out!” Martha slapped the armrest of the sofa. “Justin can’t delay this. The contractors are pushing him.” I walked over and placed the glass of water in front of Martha. “Martha, have some water.” She took the glass, took a sip, and looked at me. “Vivian, can you think of something? Don’t you still have that old condo?” I looked at her. “What condo?” “The one your mother left you,” Martha said. “It’s just sitting there empty anyway. Why not sell it to help David’s brother?” David looked up at me. I didn’t look back at him. I said, “Martha, that condo was left to me by my mother. It’s not empty. I’m keeping it.” “But you don’t live there,” Martha set her glass down. “Why keep it? We’re family, Vivian. David’s brother is your brother. What’s wrong with helping out?” David finally spoke up. “Mom, stop it.” “What did I say wrong?” Martha glared at him. “If Justin ends up single for the rest of his life because of this, I’m holding you responsible.” I untied my apron and hung it on the wall. “Martha, we can talk about the condo later. Is there any other reason you came today?” Martha blinked, taken aback, then said: “Nothing else. Just visiting. David, can you drive me home?” David stood up. “Sure, let’s go.” He grabbed his car keys, glanced at me, and said nothing. The door closed. I stood in the living room for a long time. At around nine that night, David returned. As soon as he walked in, he slammed his car keys onto the shoe rack. “What was your problem today?” I was sitting on the sofa watching TV. I didn’t turn around. “What do you mean?” “The way you reacted when my mother brought up the condo. What kind of attitude was that?” I turned down the TV volume. “What kind of attitude did you expect?” “That’s my mother,” he walked over to stand in front of me. “What’s wrong with her making a suggestion?” I looked up at him. “David, your mother wants to sell the condo my mom left me just so your brother can renovate his house and get married.” “How do you think I should react? Should I get on my knees and thank her?” He paused, his face tightening. “She was just spitballing. She didn’t actually force you to sell it.” “But she said it out loud.” “So what if she did?” His voice grew louder. “My mother can’t even speak her mind now? Why are you being so petty?” I stood up to face him. “I’m petty?” “Oh, you’re so generous,” he sneered. “If you’re so generous, why don’t you bring out your mother’s condo? Stop acting so high and mighty.” I stared at him. I had looked at this face for fifteen years. Right now, he felt like a complete stranger. “David,” I said. “Was the project bonus really canceled?” His expression stiffened. “What do you mean?” “I’m asking you. Was the project bonus really canceled?” He looked away and turned toward the bedroom. “Yes, it was. How many times do I have to tell you?” “Are you going on a business trip next month?” He paused. “Whether I am or not is none of your business.” “Just asking.” He didn’t turn back. He walked into the bedroom and slammed the door. I sat back down on the sofa and kept watching TV. A family drama was playing on the screen. A husband and wife were standing on stage, yelling at each other. The husband had cheated, and the wife wanted a divorce. The host asked the wife, “Do you still love him?” The wife said, “No.” I stared at the screen, watching the woman cry. But I couldn’t shed a single tear. I took out my phone and sent a Snapchat to Ashley. “Next month on the 15th. Have that VIP room ready for me. The one by the window.” Ashley replied almost instantly: “It’s ready. What about your mother-in-law?” “I’ll handle her.”

The 15th of next month. Wednesday. At 8:00 AM, David took a call right before heading out. “Yeah, got it. I’ll be there by ten. Let’s talk in person.” He hung up and adjusted his tie in front of the mirror. “I’m traveling today,” he said. “Three or four days. I’ll bring you back something.” I was clearing the dining table. I didn’t look up. “Have a safe trip.” He walked to the door, then turned around. “Don’t worry about the fridge. We’ll handle it when I get back.” The door closed. I put down the sponge, walked to the window, and watched his car drive away. I went back to the bedroom and changed my clothes. I didn’t wear the black dress. Instead, I put on a simple gray coat and black pants. Then, I called Martha. “Martha, are you free today?” “David is away on business. I have to go to the bank to handle some paperwork, can you come with me? We can go shopping afterward.” Martha hesitated on the other end of the line. “The bank? For what?” “A family wealth management plan. They say the returns are high, but it requires signatures from both sides of the family.” “David’s out of town, so he asked me to look into it first. I don’t really understand these things, can you help me check it out?” Martha’s tone immediately softened. “Sure, what time?” “10:30 AM. Meet me at the bank entrance.” At 9:50 AM, I arrived at the bank. Ashley was waiting for me at the entrance of the VIP room. Seeing me alone, she looked surprised. “Where’s Martha?” “She’ll be here at 10:30. What about him?” Ashley lowered her voice. “He’s here. Arrived at 9:30. I put him in the adjacent VIP room. The girl didn’t show up.” “She doesn’t need to.” I walked into the VIP room and sat in the chair by the window. Through the glass partition, I could clearly see the main lobby outside. At 10:20 AM, Martha arrived. She was wearing a bright red coat, her hair freshly permed, looking around the lobby. I stood up and waved at her. She saw me and walked over. “Why are you so early?” “Just finished some paperwork.” I guided her to the sofa. “Martha, take a seat. The wealth manager will be here shortly to explain the plan to us.” Martha looked around the VIP room, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. “This is nice. A private room, huh? I’ve never been in one of these.” “Yes, only premium clients get access.” Martha nodded and began to nag again. “The contractors are already waiting on Justin’s house. They just need the cash.” “If you can figure out this wealth management stuff and make a quick profit, then…” She stopped mid-sentence. The door to the VIP room was pushed open. David stood at the doorway. He looked at me, then at his mother, his expression switching through various shades of panic. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t answer. A bank teller behind him said politely: “Mr. Cooper, right this way, please. Your reserved VIP room is next door.” David didn’t move. He stared at me, his eyes filled with panic and suspicion. “Vivian, what are you doing here?” Martha chimed in: “She’s here to look into a family wealth plan. It requires signatures from both sides.” “Aren’t you supposed to be on a business trip? Why are you here?” David’s face drained of color. He opened his mouth to speak, but right then, Ashley walked in holding a stack of documents. She smiled and nodded at me, then turned to David. “Vivian, Mr. Cooper, since you’re both here, let’s just handle this together. It’ll save you another trip.” She placed the documents on the table. Right on top was a bank statement. Under David’s name. Packed with transaction records. Ashley sat down, flipped open the statement, and circled a few lines with her pen. “Mr. Cooper, let’s review your transaction history first. We need this for our standard risk assessment.” She pointed to the first item. “This transaction, last Wednesday, at a luxury hotel, $698. Was this authorized by you?” David’s throat tightened. “Yes.” “Great.” Ashley pointed to the next one. “This one, the 18th of last month, a jewelry store, $8,800. Was this also you?” Beads of sweat began to form on David’s forehead. Martha looked completely confused and leaned in to get a closer look. “What charges? David, what did you buy?” Ashley didn’t stop. She pointed to the next one. “This one, from the 15th to the 18th of last month. Flights to Miami and hotel bookings, totaling $6,800.” “Two passengers. Was the other passenger a family member?” David’s face turned paper-white. His mouth hung open, but no sound came out. Ashley raised her head, looking perfectly “surprised.” “According to our system records, your primary salary account doesn’t seem to support such frequent high-end spending.” “Can you explain the source of these funds? We need this for risk compliance.” The VIP room fell dead silent for three seconds. Then, I spoke. I picked up the statement and looked at the numbers. “David, didn’t you say the project bonus was canceled?” “What did you buy for $8,800? And this $698 hotel stay… was that on Wednesday when you were supposed to be playing tennis?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was crystal clear. Martha finally put the pieces together. She snatched the statement from the table. She squinted at the paper for a moment, then looked up at David. “David, who is this woman?” David’s lips trembled. “Mom, it’s not what you think…” “I asked you who this woman is!” Martha’s voice shrieked, drawing stares from people in the main lobby. Through the glass wall of the adjacent VIP room, a few neighbors who were waiting in line craned their necks to see what was happening. David stood there, his face flushing red and then turning pale. He looked at me, then at his mother, and then at the growing crowd outside the glass door. His lips parted, but he couldn’t find his voice. I took the statement back from his mother’s hand, turned to the next page, and looked at the numbers. I read them out in a clear voice, loud enough for the neighbors outside to hear. “Last Wednesday, luxury hotel, $698.” “The Wednesday before that, same hotel, $698.” “The 18th of last month, jewelry store, $8,800.” “The 15th of last month, two tickets to Miami…” David finally found his voice. “That’s enough!” He lunged forward to grab the paper, but his mother grabbed his arm. “What do you think you’re doing!” Martha glared at him. “Let her finish!” I kept reading. “Last Saturday, high-end restaurant, $488. Last Saturday, luxury hotel, $698…” The neighbors outside the glass partition began whispering to each other. “Isn’t that our neighbor, David Cooper?” “Is that his wife? Did he cheat?” “Look at those statements. All those hotels. It’s pretty obvious.” David was completely paralyzed. He stood there like a statue, all expression wiped from his face. I finished reading the last line and put the paper down. I looked up at him.

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To save up enough money for a down payment on our future house, I started driving Uber after my regular office hours, keeping it a secret from my fiancée. When the ride request popped up, I stared at my phone in disbelief for a few seconds. In the rearview mirror, I watched my girlfriend of five years holding a man’s arm as they walked toward my car. When she looked up and saw me, her entire body went rigid. She couldn’t say a word. The destination for this ride was a five-star hotel downtown. But just an hour ago, she had texted me on Snapchat, saying she was having dinner with her best friend, Sarah, and would be staying over at Sarah’s place tonight. As I started the engine, the man suddenly leaned forward. His voice carried a smugness he didn’t care to hide. “Hey man, could you drive as smoothly as possible? My wife gets car sick. Thanks.” I nodded numbly. My mind went completely blank. I stared at her through the rearview mirror for a long time. She kept her head down, refusing to make eye contact. The man nudged her gently. “Babe, do you know him?”

“No,” I spoke up before she could. In the rearview mirror, I saw her let out a visible sigh of relief. But she still didn’t dare to look at me. I was already regretting taking this ride. The man looked to be in his early thirties. He was dressed in smart business-casual clothes, with a very expensive-looking watch on his wrist. His hand rested naturally on her thigh. The GPS instructed me to turn right ahead, so I flipped on the blinker. Silence filled the car, heavy and suffocating. The man probably felt bored, so he started scrolling through his phone gallery, leaning in to show her photos from time to time. “Look, babe, this is the progress on our new house from last week. The hardwood floor in the living room is already done.” She mumbled a soft “yeah” in response. I watched her through the rearview mirror. She kept her head down, trying to shrink herself into the seat. Five years of memories turned into nothing but air in an instant, completely outweighed by a brand-new house she shared with a stranger in the backseat. “When did you guys get married?” The words slipped out before I could stop myself. The man was taken aback for a second, then he smiled, his eyes filled with pride. “We got legally married at the courthouse last month. The big wedding ceremony is next month, and we’re going all out.” He said it with a boastful grin. “I’ve been working out of state for a while, so we’ve been long-distance. I finally got some time off to visit her, so I wanted to take her to see our new house.” Long-distance. My throat tightened. Her hometown was upstate, about a four-hour drive from here. Over the past few months, she had told me countless times that she had to go back home to handle family emergencies. I had never once doubted her. “Hey, driver, that’s a nice watch you have there.” The man suddenly leaned closer, pointing at my left wrist. I looked down. It was the watch on my wrist. She had given it to me for my birthday last year. I used to be too afraid to wear it because I didn’t want to scratch it. But she told me that a boyfriend should wear his girl’s gifts, so I started wearing it every day. She bought it with her very first project bonus. She had told me that although it wasn’t expensive, she would buy me a much better one once she made more money. My family wasn’t wealthy. To give her a better life, I pushed myself to drive Uber every single night, wanting to save up as much as possible for our wedding. We were originally planning to get married at the end of this year. “It looks almost exactly like mine.” He held up his left wrist, showing it off. “See? Simple design. My wife picked it out for me. She said it’s a timeless classic.” In the rearview mirror, Chloe’s head sank even lower. “What a coincidence,” I replied. “It’s actually a couple’s set. Since you’re wearing the watch, you must have a girlfriend, right? When are you guys tying the knot?” he asked with a chuckle. I paused for a moment, then spoke quietly. “We broke up.” “I just forgot to take the watch off.”

The man choked on his words, the smile freezing on his face. He looked at me, then back at his own reflection in the mirror. He was probably imagining some tragic heartbreak story in his head. “Man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” “It’s fine.” He leaned back into his seat and stayed quiet for a few seconds. Still, he couldn’t help but whisper, “Hey, it’s alright. You’ll find someone better. My older brother dated a girl for years before they broke up. Now his new wife is amazing.” I nodded. The person who had remained silent in the backseat didn’t say a single word. The car finally pulled up in front of the most luxurious five-star hotel downtown. I looked at the bright neon sign glowing in the night. After he got out of the car, she took his arm, and they walked into the lobby together. She looked up to talk to him, and he nodded. She never once looked back. I sat in my car for a long time. The AC was turned off, and the windows were rolled down. The cold night breeze blew in, making my eyes sting. A parking guard walked over and tapped on my window, telling me that I couldn’t park here for long. I told him I was leaving right away. I started the engine, but I had no idea where to drive. I looked down at the watch on my wrist. Married last month. Which meant that while I was driving Uber to save money, while I was staying up all night doing freelance design work to make extra cash, and while I was eagerly planning our winter wedding, she had already legally married someone else. She was already someone else’s wife, living in a brand-new house. And I was still desperately saving money for her. I pulled over to the side of the road, took out my phone, and opened her Snapchat chat. The last message was from her, sent at 6:23 PM: “Having dinner with Sarah and the girls tonight. If it gets too late, I’ll just sleep at her place. Go to bed early, babe.” I typed a few words, deleted them, typed again, and deleted them again. Finally, I sent just three words: “Let’s break up.” Sent. I took off the watch and placed it on the center console. At the top of the chat screen, “Typing…” popped up. I waited for a long time. The typing indicator kept flashing, but no message ever came through. I put the car in drive, ready to leave. Just as I shifted gears, a familiar figure appeared in my rearview mirror. She was running out of the hotel lobby, panting as she banged on my passenger window. “Unlock the door! Let me explain!” Her forehead was covered in sweat, and her hair was completely messy from the wind. I had never seen her look so disheveled before. “Unlock it!” she begged, tapping again. I unlocked the passenger side. She pulled the door open and scrambled inside, breathing heavily. The scent of the hotel lobby’s expensive perfume filled the car. “How did you…” “Let’s break up,” I interrupted her. “I just texted you. You saw it, right?” She froze. Her lips trembled. It took her a long time to say, “It’s not what you think.” “Then what is it?” “I…” She wiped her face in frustration. “What happened with him was just an accident.”

I looked at her, waiting for her to keep making up lies. “A few months ago, I went back to my hometown. I drank too much, and I… I mistook him for you…” She spoke incredibly fast, panic dripping from her voice. “It was just that one time! Who knew he would take it so seriously? His family is incredibly wealthy. They have multiple properties and luxury cars. His parents came straight to me and offered a lot of money. You know my mom was sick back then, and we desperately needed the money for her medical bills.” I stared at her. A few months ago. She did go back to her hometown, claiming her mother wasn’t feeling well. During that time, she always said she was too busy with work. She barely came home, and whenever I called, she would hang up after just a few hurried words. “You guys got married last month.” “You went back to your hometown to sign the marriage papers, and then you told me you were traveling for a business trip.” She went completely silent. “Did your parents know?” She nodded. “So your entire family kept this from me.” “It wasn’t about hiding it from you. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you.” She grabbed my hand. Her palm was clammy with sweat. “Leo, I really love you. Haven’t you felt that over the past five years? What happened with him was just an accident. Once this is all over, we will get a divorce. Can you please just wait for me?” I looked at her. “You want me to wait for you?” “Just one year, two years at most. Once I sort things out with him, I’ll get a divorce.” “And then what?” “And then we’ll get married!” she said eagerly. “We can still have our wedding. We’ve been together for five years, Leo. Our feelings are real. Can you really just throw all of that away?” I brushed her hand off me. “The day you got married at the courthouse, I was driving Uber to save money for our wedding. I did it because I wanted you to have a better life.” She gasped, stunned. “I drove three to four hours every single night. I took on freelance design work on weekends just to save an extra three to four hundred dollars a month. I thought you were working overtime. I thought you were staying at your friend’s place. But in reality, you were with your husband, looking at your new house.” “Leo…” “And now you want me to wait for you? Wait for you to finish being his wife, wait for you guys to set up your new home, and then come back to marry me?” Without waiting for her answer, I reached over and pushed her car door open. “Get out.” “Leo, please listen to me!” “Listen to what? Listen to when exactly you got married? Listen to how you and your family lied to me?” I looked at her. “You actually reminded me of something.” I turned my head away. “Your parents knew. So from the very beginning, your family never saw me as one of your own.” “Leo, my mom really likes you.” “She likes me? She likes me so much that she helped you hide your marriage? She likes me so much that she wants me to wait like a fool?” She had no words. “Get out.” “Leo…” “Get out!” She sat there, refusing to budge. I opened my door, walked around the front of the car, and pulled the passenger door wide open. “Get out of my car.” Only then did she step out, standing by the side of the road, staring at me. “Leo, we’ve been together for five years. Our parents have met. How can you be this heartless?”

I didn’t answer. I got back in, shut the door, and started the car. She banged on the window from the outside, her mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear a word she was saying. In the rearview mirror, she chased the car for a few steps before being swallowed by the darkness of the night. When I got back to my rented apartment, I stood at the door for a long time, unable to go in. A sliver of light peeked through the crack beneath the door—I had forgotten to turn off the living room light before leaving. I pushed the door open. In the entryway stood her pink slippers. They were bought on a “buy-one-get-one-free” sale; mine were black. On the coat rack hung the dress she had picked up from the dry cleaners last week, saying she had an important event to attend the next day. On the coffee table sat a half-drunk cup of iced coffee she had left behind, right next to a magazine she had been reading. On the sofa lay her favorite pink throw blanket. She always said it was the coziest thing to wrap herself in while watching TV. On the bedroom nightstand were her skincare products, her hair clips, and her half-read romance novels. Her traces were everywhere. I sat on the sofa, staring at the warm floor lamp. She had picked out the lampshade herself, saying the warm yellow glow made the place feel like a real home. My phone vibrated. It was a Snapchat message from her: “He’s leaving tomorrow. Once he goes back upstate, I’ll come over and we can talk things through.” I stared at the screen for a long time. Then, I tapped on her profile picture and blocked her. Our entire chat history vanished. Five years of “good morning” and “good night” texts, five years of “I miss you” and “I love you,” five years of shared daily life—all gone in a second. I started packing her things. Her clothes, her books, her skincare products, her hair clips, her toothbrush, and her towels. I packed everything into two large suitcases. By the time I finished, it was 3:00 AM. Half of the apartment was empty. The floor lamp was still glowing. Staring at the patterns on the lampshade, I remembered the day we went shopping at IKEA. She had said that when we finally bought our own house, she wanted to put tons of warm lights in the living room so we could adjust the brightness at night. I had smiled and agreed, telling her I loved warm lighting too. I stood up and turned off the lamp. The room fell into complete darkness, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. The next day at noon, I was woken up by a loud knocking on the door. I didn’t know what time I had finally fallen asleep last night, and my phone had died and shut off. The knocking became louder and more urgent. I walked over and looked through the peephole. It was her. I decided to ignore her and turned to walk back to the bedroom, but the knocking started again. “Leo! I know you’re in there! Open the door!” “If you don’t open it, I’m not leaving!” I stood behind the door, motionless. “Mom, you talk to him.” A familiar voice echoed from outside. I froze. I opened the door slightly. She was standing there, with her mother right beside her, and her father standing a bit further back. I had met her mother, Mrs. Peterson, many times. Whenever I visited their house, she was always very polite to me. She used to say we should get married early so she could help take care of the kids while she was still young. “Leo, sweetie, open the door. Let’s have a chat.” I pulled the door open. Mrs. Peterson walked in, looking around the living room. When her eyes landed on the suitcases stacked by the sofa, her lips curled down in disapproval. “What is all of this? Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?” Her husband stood at the door, refusing to come in, his face completely expressionless. Mrs. Peterson sat down on the sofa and patted the space next to her. “Come on, Leo, sit down. Let’s talk.” I stood my ground and didn’t move. “Why are you just standing there? Come, sit.” “If you have something to say, just say it here.” Mrs. Peterson paused, the fake smile slipping from her face. She glanced at her daughter, then looked back at me. “Leo, look, what happened was wrong on our part. We should have told you beforehand. But think about it—how could we possibly bring something like this up? The other guy is extremely wealthy. He has properties, luxury cars, and his family came directly to us. We couldn’t just ignore an opportunity like that, could we?” I listened, my heart turning cold. “And besides,” Mrs. Peterson continued, pausing for effect. “We can’t put all the blame on Chloe. You need to think about your own financial situation…” “The only reason she drank too much that night was because she was stressed out about how little money your family has. Don’t you think so?”

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Since childhood, I had been engaged to a pair of twin brothers. They were always fighting over which one of them would marry me someday. They even argued over who could hold me for two seconds longer. But at the husband-selection party, they both smiled and told me that the things they said as kids were just jokes, and whoever took them seriously had already lost. Not long after, they both fell in love with Madison Clarke, the queen bee who had just transferred to our school. To make her laugh, they knew I had a severe peanut allergy, yet they tricked me into eating cake mixed with peanut butter at a birthday party. Soon, I could barely breathe, red rashes broke out all over my body, and I collapsed on the floor in agony, begging them for help over and over. But they only stood off to the side and burst out laughing. “Look at her. Doesn’t she flop around like a dying fish? That’s hilarious!” Only after I completely lost consciousness from anaphylactic shock did they finally call an ambulance. All because Madison wanted to see whether a person on the verge of death would really lose control of their bladder. After I woke up, I tore up our engagement agreement with my own hands and gave up on them completely. Later, I left that city. But even later, those twin brothers who had once pushed me toward death with their own hands searched the whole world for me like they had gone insane. 1 The cold wind blew past, and large, shocking patches of red rash still remained on my exposed skin. After being resuscitated, my body was terribly weak, and every breath felt like someone was ripping my chest apart. But the pain in my body was nowhere near one ten-thousandth of the pain in my heart. I held on to the railing by the road and struggled toward home. Before I even reached the front door, my phone rang. At that moment, my phone suddenly started vibrating. On the screen, Ethan Grant’s name kept flashing. I hesitated for a moment, but still pressed the answer button. “Where the hell did you run off to?” “Madison has been blaming herself because of you, and she cried for half the day.” “You just ate the wrong thing, that’s all. Do you have to make everyone upset? Come back right now and apologize to her.” Before he finished speaking, Liam Grant had already snatched the phone away. “Madison has been waiting for you to come back so she can apologize to you. Can you stop being so dramatic? Can’t you be even half as considerate as Madison?” Listening to their righteous accusations, I only felt the rashes on my body itch even more. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, my vision suddenly went black. …… When I woke up again, the sharp smell of disinfectant already filled my nose. A nurse stood by my bed with a reproachful look on her face. “You young people really don’t take your health seriously. If someone hadn’t brought you in, you would’ve been dead. You were nearly dying from an allergic reaction and still refused to stay in the hospital. You’re practically insane!” I slowly closed my eyes and did not explain. The nurse asked again: “Have you contacted your family? There are still quite a few follow-up exams, and we need a family member’s signature.” After a long silence, I finally spoke softly. “……I don’t have any family.” After my parents died, I had been living with the Grants. Everyone said I was the Grant family’s future daughter-in-law. But only today did I finally understand that I was nothing more than an outsider who could be thrown away at any time. I stayed in the hospital for five full days. The two Grant brothers did not call me even once. In the past, if I came home five minutes late, they would take turns calling me. They would ask me where I was again and again. They would even drive out themselves to pick me up. But now, I had disappeared for five whole days. Yet they did not even send me a single message. On the day I was discharged, I completed the paperwork alone and took a cab home. By the time I came back to my senses, I was already standing at the Grant house’s front door. I smiled bitterly and shook my head, just about to leave, when Madison’s voice came through the crack in the door. “Sophia hasn’t come home in five days. Should you two call her?” Liam gave a scornful laugh. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. Her parents are dead anyway, so where else can she go besides here? It won’t be long before she comes crawling back like a dog.” Ethan chimed in too. “Exactly. Don’t worry about her. Why don’t we talk about who gets to kiss you now instead……” “But……” Before Madison could finish, Liam covered her mouth and coaxed her softly: “Don’t mention that useless girl. Don’t ruin the mood.” The next second. Madison seemed to glance toward the door casually. Our eyes met. The corners of her mouth slowly curved into a smug and provocative smile. In that instant, I understood everything. She had known I was standing outside the door all along. All of this had been a show deliberately put on for me. I clenched my fists tightly, and my whole body trembled uncontrollably. That night. I returned to the house my parents had left behind. Ever since Mom and Dad died, I had moved into the Grant house. This was the first time I had stepped back into this place. At dawn. My phone suddenly rang. The caller ID showed Madison. As soon as I answered, the sound of the brothers arguing came from the other end of the line. They were arguing over which one of them Madison should kiss tonight. This scene used to happen every day. Liam liked kissing me, and Ethan liked kissing me too. In the end, I was the one who suggested kissing one of them each week, and only then did the brothers finally calm down. Now, listening to that familiar argument on the other end of the line, I only felt as if someone had carved a hole straight through my heart. I silently hung up the phone. I opened the ticket-booking app. I bought a one-way ticket back to my hometown for the day after tomorrow. 2 Early the next morning. I walked into the Grant house. Liam was making breakfast in the kitchen, while Ethan was brewing coffee. Hearing the door open, they both looked up at the same time. When they saw it was me, their eyes held only undisguised mockery. Ethan was the first to sneer. “Oh, so you still know how to come back? Weren’t you so full of pride? Who were you trying to threaten by running away from home?” He casually pointed upstairs. “By the way, Madison has already moved into your old room. Move your things into the storage room under the stairs later.” That storage room. It had always been where the cleaning lady kept her supplies. I instinctively looked at Liam. I thought he would at least think Ethan had gone too far. But he only frowned. “I’m worried that Sophia living here will make Madison uncomfortable. Why don’t we just have her move back to her own place?” Ethan immediately nodded. “She was never part of our family anyway. She’s just been living and eating here for free all these years.” “Madison is different. She’s sensitive. I don’t want her feeling awkward because of Sophia.” For a moment, I suddenly felt dazed. Back then, on the day of my mother’s funeral. They had cried while holding my hands, begging me to move in with them. They said they would take care of me for the rest of my life. But now. I had become the outsider in their mouths who refused to leave. It turned out that a person’s heart really could change this fast. Before I could speak. Ethan had already grabbed my wrist and shoved me toward the door. “Get out already. Don’t wait until Madison wakes up and sees you, then ruin her mood again.” Behind me. Liam added flatly. “Change the smart lock too, so she doesn’t sneak back in again.” I did not even have time to tell them. I had only come back to get my passport. After leaving. I first went to replace my temporary ID. Then I contacted a real estate agent. I decided to sell the house my parents had left me. Though I could not bear to part with it. But I knew. I would never come back again. After handling all that, I went to the grocery store to buy food. My health had always been poor. In the past, the Grant brothers always fought to cook for me. They always said takeout was unhealthy, and they could not bear to let me eat it. I still remembered. Once, I casually posted on my feed that I wanted spicy Mexican tacos. The next day. Liam made a deluxe version with his own hands and brought it to me. I saw that his hands were covered in knife cuts and burns. I asked him how he got them. But he hid his hands behind his back and said with a smile: “I messed up by accident while figuring out the recipe.” My heart ached terribly. “I only said it casually. You don’t have to work this hard. We could’ve just ordered delivery.” But he frowned. “As long as I’m here, I won’t let you eat that junk food.” Ethan was the same. To make my favorite cake for me. He stayed up several nights in a row just to learn baking. Back then. Mrs. Grant often said with a smile. “It’s too bad the law doesn’t allow it, or I’d really want both of them to marry you.” Thinking about it now. It felt like a lifetime ago. But it did not matter. Anyway, tomorrow, I was leaving. When I got home. I had just opened the door. But I found the brothers and Madison sitting brazenly in my living room. Only then did I feel annoyed with myself. If I had known, I would have changed the door code from the start. 3 “Sophia, you’re back.” Madison stood up with a smile. “I’ve always been curious about your childhood, so they specially brought me here to see the place where you grew up. You don’t mind, do you?” “She’s very obedient. She won’t mind.” Ethan did not even look at me before making the decision for me. Liam was the same, hugging Madison from behind. “Maddie, I’ll show you around.” “I’m first!” They started arguing over Madison again. I was too lazy to bother with them, so I walked straight into the kitchen to make dinner. In the past. Ethan loved getting jealous the most. As long as I talked to Liam a little more. He would get sulky and throw a fit. I always laughed and said he was like a child. But he would hug my arm and say with a grin: “It’s because it’s you that I get jealous.” It turned out. I was not special. I just had not met the person who could truly replace me yet. While I was chopping vegetables. Madison suddenly walked in, her face full of caution. “Sophia, are you mad because I came over without saying hello?” “I really didn’t mean anything else. I just wanted to see the place where you grew up.” I did not even lift my head. “You’ve seen it, so get out.” As soon as I finished speaking. Ethan had already stormed in angrily. “Sophia, what do you mean by that? Madison took the initiative to be friends with you, and you’re giving her attitude?” “If I’d known you were this ungrateful, we never should’ve let you move into our house in the first place!” Liam also walked in. The way he looked at me was filled with disgust. “Sophia, don’t go too far. Apologize to Madison right now.” I slammed the kitchen knife onto the cutting board and let out a cold laugh. “She barges into my house, and you still want me to apologize to her?” “Are you two insane?” Madison’s eyes instantly turned red. “Sophia, I know you hate me, but don’t be mean to them…… I don’t want to see them upset.” The brothers immediately gathered around her. They comforted her softly as if coaxing a child. Liam turned back and glared at me. Only thick disgust remained in his eyes. “No wonder people always bullied you at school before.” One sentence. It made my whole body freeze in place. In middle school. Because I was thin and introverted, I was often bullied. They gave me all kinds of nasty nicknames. One time. They even locked me inside the music classroom for an entire night. I curled up in the darkness and cried until dawn. That day. Liam braved the storm and searched the entire school building. At last, he followed the sound of crying and found me. The next day. Ethan pulled up the security footage and took it straight to the principal’s office. Everyone who had bullied me was severely punished by the school. Sure enough. The people who know you best. Will always know which words can hurt you the most. Liam looked at my pale face, and his expression paused slightly, as if he realized he had gone too far. But before he could speak. Madison had already lowered her head and said aggrievedly: “Sophia really seems to hate me…… Maybe I should just leave.” Ethan immediately held her hand. “Don’t be sad. I’ll make you a chocolate cake when we get back.” That was my favorite dessert. Back then. He practiced for an entire month to learn how to make that dessert. Now. It had become a gift to cheer someone else up. Watching their backs as they left. My determination to leave became completely firm. But that same night. They pushed open my door once again. Liam carried a takeout box in his hand, with a hint of pride on his face. 4 I frowned and looked at the three of them. I had no idea what trick they wanted to play this time. Liam placed the chocolate cake in front of me. “I made it myself.” “Try it and see if it tastes the same as before.” For a moment. My heart still softened a little. But the next second. The icy river water, along with the way they stood on the bank and laughed loudly, surfaced in my mind again. I spoke calmly. “I’m not hungry.” Liam’s face instantly darkened. “I worked so hard to make this for you, and this is your attitude?” The air stayed frozen for a long time. In the end, I still picked up the fork. Anyway. I was leaving tomorrow. After I finished eating, they would probably leave too. But after only two bites. I frowned. “Why does it taste different?” Liam lifted his chin, his face full of pride. “I specially added mango and extra peanut butter.” “It makes the flavor richer.” The fork in my hand fell to the floor with a snap. I looked at him in disbelief. “Liam Grant……” “You clearly know I’m severely allergic to mango and peanuts!” But he waved his hand carelessly. “Stop pretending.” “Madison has always been curious how anyone could be allergic to both mango and peanuts. I figured you must have been lying to us on purpose before.” “Look, aren’t you perfectly fine right now?” Ethan glanced down at the time and immediately laughed. “I won!” “Madison, tomorrow you have to kiss me three times on your own.” The three of them turned and left while chatting and laughing. The moment the door closed. My throat suddenly began to tighten. Breathing became more and more difficult. I stumbled around looking for my EpiPen. But then I suddenly remembered. All my medicine was still at the Grant house. I used the last bit of my strength to call 91The next second. My vision fell completely into darkness. …… When I woke up again. It was still the same sharp smell of disinfectant. The doctor told me. If I had arrived any later, the consequences would have been unimaginable. I had to stay in the hospital for observation. That night. I did not sleep at all. Early the next morning. I completed the discharge paperwork. Dragging my suitcase, I went straight to the airport. Before leaving. I finally changed the smart lock at home. Then I sent a message to the real estate agent. I told him that as long as he sold the house as soon as possible, I was willing to pay an extra five percent commission. The plane slowly taxied toward the runway. Just as it was about to take off. My phone began vibrating like crazy. The screen was filled with calls from the Grant brothers. I glanced at it. Expressionless, I pressed the power-off button. The plane soared into the clouds. And I never looked back again.

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Julian Reed and I had been in a cold war for a year. During this year, he completely vanished from my life, never once reaching out. But nobody knew that during the days my father was in critical condition and passed away, I was entirely on my own. I signed the critical condition forms alone, waited outside the ER alone, and arranged the funeral alone. Meanwhile, Julian was by his first love’s side, taking care of everything after her own father passed away. Later, he returned, trying to play the doting, attentive husband again, hoping to slowly patch up our broken marriage. But he didn’t realize that the moment he abandoned me during the darkest days of my life, we were already over. This time, I didn’t need him anymore. 0 Julian and I had been separated for a year. During this year, he spent almost all his time in Los Angeles, helping Vivian handle the lawsuits and debts left behind after her father’s death. From the hospital to the financial audits, from the lawyers to the funeral home, he did everything himself. People on the outside praised Julian for being a man of great honor and loyalty. They said he even carried his ex-girlfriend’s family burdens all the way to the end. But nobody knew that during that exact same time, my father had also just passed away. The day he left, we had a terrible fight. I had just come back from the funeral home, feeling completely hollowed out, emotionally wrecked, and speaking without filters. “Julian, her dad dies and you rush over there to take care of it.” “But what about my dad?” “My dad just passed away. Why didn’t you think about staying to support me?” Julian’s eyes lost their usual calm and gentle look, narrowing slightly as he stared at me with a chilling coldness. His voice was flat and deep. “Chloe.” “Do you really have to say things like that right now?” I let out a bitter laugh, but tears suddenly spilled over. “And what about you?” “Julian, when you chose her, did you ever once think about me?” He didn’t say another word. That was the last time we saw each other. The very next day, Julian flew to Los Angeles. When Julian finally came back, he acted as if nothing had ever happened, smoothly stepping back into the role of a caring, perfect husband. My friend Elena asked me: “Chloe, Julian has been back for a month now. Are you really going to keep freezing him out like this?” “He’s gorgeous and filthy rich. Plenty of girls are keeping their eyes on him.” Julian was the darling of heaven, born into an incredibly prominent family. There were indeed plenty of women at his company who wanted to slide into his life. But he had been gone for a year, and too much had happened during those twelve months. During the first month of his absence, I actually still hoped he would call or text. But he never did. Afterward, I even felt regret, wondering if the harsh words I said had pushed him away. I let out a dry chuckle, unable to help but complain. “I’m not freezing him out. There’s just literally nothing left for us to talk about.” “And honestly, sharing a room with him is just incredibly awkward.” Elena’s gaze drifted past me, looking right behind my shoulder. Her expression froze, and she started making frantic faces at me. I asked her: “What’s wrong?” “Is there something in your eye?” She blinked even harder. I turned around and saw Julian standing there, tall and still. He was frozen in place, his face turning pale. My lips twitched in awkwardness. His eyes locked onto me, a storm of emotions swirling in his dark pupils. Julian walked over to me, and without a word, he grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away, but I couldn’t. His grip was too tight. Once we got out of the elevator, he practically shoved me into the passenger seat of his car. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His expression was incredibly dark. A year ago, our marriage was kept strictly secret. The media had no idea Julian was even married. But they definitely knew about his past romance with Vivian. The moment the car started, the radio turned on, automatically shuffling to an entertainment news channel. “Recently, netizens leaked that Julian Reed, CEO of Nova Tech, was spotted multiple times in Los Angeles over the past year, accompanying a young woman to hospitals, law firms, and funeral homes.” “According to insiders, Julian stayed in LA long-term to help his first love handle the debts and lawsuits left by her late father. The two are suspected to have rekindled their old flame…” Julian immediately cut off the radio. I didn’t demand answers from him like I did a year ago. There was simply no point anymore. 0

A year ago, on a snowy day. I received a call from the hospital saying my dad was in critical condition. On my way running to the hospital, I fell. The ground was too slippery. The snow had started without any warning, and no one was prepared for it. The roads were already starting to freeze over. By the time I finally rushed into the hospital, the critical condition notice had already been issued. The nurse handed me the forms, telling me to sign. I was completely numb, my hands shaking so violently I could barely hold the pen. I tried to call Julian, but I couldn’t get through. My mother was having a total emotional breakdown and couldn’t hold herself together. The doctor was pressing me, so I had no choice but to sign the critical condition papers myself. But they still couldn’t save him. The day my dad passed away, Julian sent me a text. [Out of town for business.] Over the next few days, I was at the funeral home arranging my dad’s service. I dragged my mother through all of it entirely on my own. It wasn’t until the third day, when I went back to the hospital to pick up my dad’s final medical records. In the elevator, I overheard two nurses gossiping: “Who is that gorgeous guy staying in the VIP ward of your department?” One nurse replied: “He’s a big deal. The owner of Nova Tech.” “Julian Reed.” The other nurse asked: “He’s so hot. Did you get his number?” “And he’s so sweet. I see him pushing his girlfriend’s wheelchair in the garden every single day.” The first nurse sighed, “His girlfriend is so incredibly lucky.” My mind went completely blank. As I walked out of the lobby, I saw Julian. Standing next to him were several doctors and his ex-girlfriend, Vivian. Those doctors were all top-tier specialists in the country. The group was heading toward the inpatient building. That was the moment I realized Julian’s “business trip” was nothing but a lie. During the days my father was dying, he had gone completely off the grid just to accompany his ex-girlfriend. The night I returned home from the funeral home, I confronted Julian about why he was with Vivian. His brow furrowed slightly. “Are you tracking my location?” I tried my absolute best to control my shaking voice. “Julian, you lied to me about the business trip, didn’t you?” “I saw you and Vivian at the hospital this morning.” “She’s your ex. Why can’t you keep some decent boundaries?” Julian looked up, his eyes perfectly calm as he stared at me. “Chloe, she is my ex.” “But we aren’t enemies.” He explained to me with chilling rationality. “I was at the hospital because her father just passed away, and she couldn’t take the shock. She had to be hospitalized.” “When you called me, I didn’t see it. I was indeed traveling at the time.” “I didn’t lie to you.” During that entire month, he and Vivian stayed in constant contact. In the middle of the night, I would feel the bed shift as he got up to take phone calls. One night, soft crying sounds drifted from the study. I saw his tall silhouette standing by the window. He was speaking into the phone with an incredibly gentle, comforting tone. “Yeah.” “I’m here, don’t be scared.” “I’ll come over tomorrow.” Julian didn’t come back to the master bedroom for the rest of that night. The moment dawn broke, he left the house. I knew the person on the other end of the line was Vivian. I said to him: “Julian, she’s been contacting you since a month ago.” “You constantly come home in the middle of the night.” “You’ve been spending all your time with her.” “She clearly knows you’re married. Why is she still crossing the line?” “What you two are doing is cheating.” Julian’s eyes went instantly cold. “Chloe.” “Don’t make it sound so disgusting.” His protective stance over Vivian made me completely lose my mind. “Her father just died, and she’s all alone now. Can you stop being so venomous with your words?” My nose stung, and a wave of intense grievance rushed up. My father was in critical condition, fighting for his life until he died, and I had to endure all of it alone. Yet he was spending his time comforting his sad ex-girlfriend. “Julian, that’s her own damn problem.” The moment those harsh words left my mouth, Julian’s face darkened completely, his eyes flashing with a cold anger. He said coldly: “Chloe.” “How can you say something so incredibly malicious?” Julian stopped talking to me, looking at me with a gaze that was distant and utterly detached. I watched his silhouette walk away. After that explosive fight, we entered a cold war that lasted for a whole year. Vivian was in a terrible mental state, so she went abroad to recover. Julian went with her. The day he packed his bags, he looked up and gave me a cold, sharp glance. That look was so empty and cutting. I suddenly realized that whatever we had was completely dead. We said nothing to each other. But once I calmed down, I remembered that Vivian had also lost her father. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for what I had said. So, I sent Julian a text: [I apologize for what I said. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.] He never replied. 0

The media broadcast of Julian and Vivian’s scandal made things even more awkward between us. However, I didn’t dwell on him and Vivian. During his year abroad, I would occasionally come across Vivian’s social media updates on my feed. I knew Julian had helped her contact lawyers, handle her debts, and even traveled with her to clear her mind. Even on New Year’s Eve, he was right by her side. Julian parted his lips slightly, his eyes staring straight at me without any attempt to hide. Being stared at like that made my skin crawl, so I looked away. His deep, low voice broke the silence. “Chloe.” “Vivian’s mental state has stabilized now.” I nodded. “Oh, okay. That’s good.” The car pulled into the underground garage. Julian looked down at me, his eyes dark. “Do you have anything you want to ask me?” “I can explain.” “I don’t want you to misunderstand.” My lips curved up, and I gave him a polite smile. “No.” “I didn’t misunderstand anything.” His eyes darkened even more. Julian’s sudden return completely threw off the rhythm of my life. I had long gotten used to living alone. Normally, after showering at night, I’d leave my hair half-dry, throw my phone on the nightstand, and scatter my work documents and laptop all over the bed. But now, there was another person in the bedroom. The moment I stepped out of the bathroom and saw Julian still sitting on the edge of the bed, my footsteps halted. That feeling of utter discomfort was practically instinctive. I turned around, gathered all the documents on the bed in one swift sweep, and carried them into the study. When I came back out, I took the initiative to bring up sleeping in separate rooms. “Julian, I have to work a lot of overtime lately, leaving early and coming back late. I don’t want to wake you up.” “I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ve already asked the housekeeper to clean it up.” His brows knit together tightly. After a long pause, he said: “What time do you go to work tomorrow?” “I’ll drive you.” I quickly declined. “No need.” “Our offices aren’t really on the same route.” He stared at me with a heavy gaze. “It is on the way. I have to go to a meeting near your company tomorrow.” I blinked. “But I’m not going straight to the office tomorrow morning.” I made up a random excuse to reject him. I woke up very early. Julian always kept a highly disciplined routine and worked out every week. To avoid him, I either had to leave earlier than him or much later. Since I couldn’t be late today, I got up around six in the morning. But the moment I pushed open the bedroom door, I saw him standing in the kitchen. Hearing the noise, he turned around slightly, his gaze landing on me. “You’re awake?” “Have some breakfast.” He and I hadn’t spent any time alone like this in a very long long time. He had only been back for three days. In the past, we handled our own breakfast and lunch, but we would always have dinner together. But during these past three days, we hadn’t shared a single meal. Just the thought of sitting down to eat alone with him made my head hurt. Algorithms really have a way of precisely targeting the exact things you never want to see. Even though Vivian and I had absolutely no connection and had never even met, her social media posts would still show up on my feed every couple of days. In her photos, Julian’s presence was always subtly there. Sometimes it was a table full of food, sometimes a night view, and sometimes just a random shot of a man’s sleeve. She never said anything explicitly, yet she managed to say everything. During the year Julian was gone, he and I had grown so distant that we had nothing to say to each other. Now, sharing the same space with him, I felt like an intruder who had accidentally wandered into someone else’s life. Even though he and I were the ones who were actually married. Under Julian’s intense gaze, I looked back at him for a second. I casually grabbed a slice of toast and walked straight toward the entryway. I kept my head down as I put on my shoes. He stood right beside me. “Sit down and eat.” I shook my head. “I’m in a rush.” His lips curved up slightly. “I’ll drive…” Before he could finish his sentence, I quickly slipped out the door. 0

Truth was, I wasn’t in a rush at all. I went to the coffee shop just around the corner from our apartment. Julian and I used to be regulars here. I used to think that a man as noble and wealthy as Julian would only eat breakfast served by a housekeeper at a grand dining table, never at a local cafe. But this was the exact place he had brought me to. After Julian left, I always came here alone. The owner had asked me before: “Where’s your husband?” “I haven’t seen you two together in ages.” I made up a lie on the spot. “We’re temporarily separated.” The owner took that as us getting a divorce. Today, the owner suddenly tried to set me up on a blind date. “Since you’re divorced now, right?” “My younger brother is single, and he’s a doctor.” I gave a polite, awkward smile. “Thank you, but I’m not really looking right now.” She kept pushing: “He’s really handsome and tall. Honestly, he doesn’t look any worse than your ex-husband.” Suddenly, a tall shadow blocked the light in front of me. I looked up and locked eyes with Julian’s cold, narrow gaze. My luck lately had been truly terrible. Every single time I talked about him behind his back, he caught me. Julian’s face was incredibly dark. “Hello. She has a husband.” The owner gasped, completely taken aback. “You got back together?” Julian said flatly: “We never divorced.” The owner looked at me in pure embarrassment. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” “I really thought you guys were divorced.” Julian’s expression looked even worse now. When we stepped out of the coffee shop, I still ended up sitting in Julian’s passenger seat. He didn’t hesitate to pop my little bubble. Staring straight at me, his lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “Chloe, the company your team is pitching to today is mine.” “If I recall correctly, you don’t have any off-site assignments today.” It was him? So when I lied to him earlier, he had just been quietly watching me put on a show. I was instantly choked up, letting out an incredibly awkward laugh. When we arrived at the office, it was peak rush hour. There were colleagues everywhere. I stepped out of his passenger seat, trying to look around discreetly to see if anyone I knew was watching. But from somewhere in the crowd, someone called out, “Mr. Reed.” My spine went instantly stiff. A large group of people was walking straight toward us, including both Julian’s team and people from my own company. Julian walked around the hood of the car and stood right beside me. Five or six pairs of eyes immediately locked onto the two of us. I had no choice but to bite the bullet and walk alongside them toward the elevators. When the elevator doors opened, everyone crowded inside. Julian was surrounded in the center, while I stood in the very back corner. Since it was rush hour, the elevator was packed. Just as the doors were about to close, two more people squeezed in. I lost my footing slightly, my body swaying. In the next second, a firm hand wrapped around my waist to steady me. The entire elevator fell into a sudden, dead silence. Practically by instinct, I immediately shrank away, pushing Julian’s hand off me, and explained with a bright, professional smile: “My heels are just too high, I almost slipped.” “Thanks for the catch, Mr. Reed.” My attempt to keep a distance was so blatant that the smile on Julian’s face instantly vanished, his expression freezing. This collaboration project was indeed with Nova Tech. Julian was the lead investor. The proposal was designed by my department. And the presenter was me. As I stood at the front of the room, I didn’t pay much attention to Julian. Only when our eyes occasionally met would I quickly look away. After the presentation ended, we spent another half hour discussing details. By then, the entire morning had passed. Julian left with his team. The moment he was gone, my colleagues immediately swarmed me for gossip. “Chloe, why did you get out of Mr. Reed’s car this morning?” I blinked innocently. “Oh, we worked together on a project in the past, so we’re somewhat acquainted. I ran into him on my way here, and since he was heading to our company anyway, he gave me a lift.” My colleague nodded in understanding. “Ah, Mr. Reed is surprisingly down-to-earth.” 0

To avoid any further overlap with Julian at work, I withdrew myself from this project. My manager was completely baffled. “You designed this proposal yourself. Are you really going to just hand it over to someone else?” I explained: “I have another project that I’ve been tracking for a long time, and I really can’t balance both right now.” Hearing this, my manager didn’t push any further. Julian sent me a message on Snapchat: [I’ll pick you up tonight. What time do you get off?] I replied without a single second of hesitation: [Thanks, but I’m working late tonight. No need to come.] I actually did need to work overtime; it wasn’t an excuse. It was past nine in the evening when I finally walked out of the office building. Julian was standing at the bottom of the steps, holding a paper bag. Seeing me walk out, he looked up. My footsteps paused. He handed the bag to me. Inside was dinner from a restaurant I used to love, along with a warm drink. “I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.” I frowned slightly but still took the bag. “Julian.” “You really don’t have to do this.” “It’s honestly a lot of trouble.” He stared at me intently, his eyes deep. He said: “It’s no trouble.” I let out a soft sigh. But to me, it felt like an immense burden. Last year, six months after Julian left, I bought an apartment. The renovation was just recently finished. Ever since my dad passed away, I had been wanting to move my mother to a new place. Since the apartment was finally ready, I was planning to move in to keep her company. When I went to inspect the property, I ran right into Julian in the community courtyard. Standing right next to him was a real estate agent and Vivian. We all stood there, staring at one another in awkward silence. His face was filled with utter shock. Neither of us expected to cross paths here. It was incredibly sudden. This was actually my first time facing Vivian head-on. She had a very soft, delicate look. She gave off an aura of fragile innocence. She pressed her lips together and gave me a faint, gentle smile. The real estate agent was still talking: “Miss Vivian, your boyfriend has incredible taste. The lighting and layout of this unit are absolutely perfect.” “We’ve also done our best to adjust all the details according to your boyfriend’s requests.” Julian stared at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What are you doing here?” I told the plain truth. “I’m here to inspect an apartment.” Julian looked confused. “You’re buying an apartment?” “I’ll go with you in a minute.” I shook my head and declined. “I already bought it. I’m just here for the final walkthrough.” I had no intention of keeping it a secret from him; he would find out sooner or later anyway. He was visibly stunned, his eyebrows raising. “You already bought it?” I gave a polite smile. “I’ll head up first.” He walked over to my side, following me. Vivian called out his name in a soft, gentle tone. “Julian, aren’t you going to finish looking at the place with me?” The way she said his name sounded incredibly intimate. Julian looked down at me for a split second, then replied to Vivian: “Let the agent show you around first.” I let out a quiet chuckle, simply finding him ridiculous. I had fully expected him to stay with Vivian. He followed me all the way into my new apartment. I politely invited him in. “Would you like some water?” “Have a seat.” I treated him with the utmost, formal politeness. His expression was complicated as he stood frozen, staring at me. His narrow, dark eyes were incredibly deep. “When did you buy this place? Why didn’t you tell me about something this important?” I mumbled under my breath: “It’s not like I used your money.” His brow furrowed slightly, his voice slow. “That’s not what I meant.” “I mean, why didn’t you let me know?” Why should I have told him? When my dad died and I needed to move, he had no idea. But when Vivian’s dad died, he knew exactly where she was living. I poured him a glass of plain water. I was treating him like an ordinary guest. He reached out and pressed his hand over mine, looking up at me. “We are married.” “Why are you being so polite to me?” I blinked, giving him a small smile without saying a word. When we left my new place and got into the elevator, he suddenly asked: “What’s the passcode to the door?” I kept my head down. “This is my apartment.” I was gently but firmly refusing to give him the code. He quickly changed the subject, trying to explain why he was with Vivian earlier. “After her father passed away, he left behind some complicated property issues and debts.” “The agent brought her here to look at some options, and I was just helping her review the terms.” I nodded, my eyes fixed on the changing numbers on the elevator screen. He added: “Don’t misunderstand.” I nodded again. “I didn’t.” He was explaining himself yet again, begging me not to misunderstand. I silently grumbled in my head about how incredibly slow this elevator was. I answered him: “I really didn’t misunderstand.” A storm of complicated emotions flared up in the depths of his eyes.

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At the wedding rehearsal, the emcee smiled and asked Ethan Shaw: “If the bride got lost, where would you go first to find her?” He answered without thinking, “The café.” I was allergic to coffee, and the one who liked drinking coffee was my best friend. The second question was, “Do you remember the bride’s period?” He answered without thinking again, “The seventh of every month.” The seventh was my best friend’s, and my period was on the fifteenth. The third question was, “Please describe your bride in five words.” Ethan Shaw answered without hesitation, “Clingy, beautiful, sexy, great body, amazing in bed.” My best friend, Nina Wells, punched him in the chest. “WTF! Why are you describing me!? Sophie is your wife!” Ethan Shaw and I had never make love before. Seeing my expression change sharply, Ethan Shaw brushed it off without caring. “Don’t take it to heart. Nina and I only had a one-night stand.” He looked at my flat chest and frowned. “But honestly, you really should learn some bedroom skills from your best friend. Sex with her was insanely good.” Ethan Shaw and I had been together for five years, and our official wedding was next week. Watching him and my best friend banter back and forth, I suddenly did not want to marry him anymore.

I lifted the hem of my wedding dress and was just about to leave. Nina Wells grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go. The rehearsal isn’t over yet.” The emcee was Ethan Shaw’s friend, and even he tried to persuade me. “Don’t ruin the mood.” “Let’s continue! Next, we’ll play the wedding VCR the bride and groom recorded in advance!” Nina Wells smiled and pressed the remote control button. The big screen slowly lit up. But the person who appeared on the screen was not me. It was Nina Wells. She wore a white wedding dress and stood by the sea, smiling brightly at the camera. The camera shifted. Ethan Shaw walked over from behind her, skillfully tucked her windblown hair behind her ear, then hugged her. The two of them looked at each other and smiled, so in sync it looked like they had filmed it countless times. As I watched, my eyes slowly began to sting. Ethan Shaw smiled faintly and pulled Nina Wells closer. “I told you this wedding dress looks better on you than it does on Sophie.” Nina Wells punched him again. “Shut up! What are you saying in front of my best friend?” She broke free from his arms and ran over to shake my arm. “Sophie, don’t overthink it! I’ve never worn a wedding dress before, so I was just trying it on!” I looked at Nina Wells’s hand on my arm. On her ring finger was a diamond ring the size of a pigeon egg. That was the ring Ethan Shaw had first used to propose to me. Only later, he had suddenly told me with a hint of apology that there was something wrong with the ring, and he would get me a different one. I never expected this. It turned out my best friend had taken a liking to that ring. How ironic that the ring used to propose to me had ended up on my best friend’s hand. I slowly pulled my hand back. Nina Wells’s eyes immediately reddened. “Sophie, do you not even trust me anymore?” Ethan Shaw finally frowned. “Sophie.” “Everyone is just joking, so don’t be so sensitive.” Nina Wells took out her phone and said, “Sophie, I’ll delete Ethan Shaw right now!” “We’re best friends, and I swear I only wanted to help you keep an eye on him!” “Since you mind, I won’t bother with him anymore, okay?” Nina Wells unlocked her phone and opened her chat history with Ethan Shaw. Their chat history was very long. I had never known that Ethan Shaw could have so much to say. I sent him thirty messages every day, and he only replied to me once. “Oops, where’s the delete button?” I did not know if it was on purpose, but Nina Wells fumbled around in a panic, failed to find the delete button, and instead let me see a lot of their chat history. “Sophie is asking again if the wedding date can be moved up.” “Is she that desperate to get married?” Nina Wells replied to him, “Forgive her. She’s already thirty, unlike me. I’m only twenty-six.” Ethan Shaw sent back a smile. “That’s why I said talking to younger you is easier than talking to her.” My fingertips tightened little by little. Soon, another section of the chat slid into view. It included a photo of me wearing only half of my wedding dress, my upper body still bare. Ethan Shaw said: “Sophie chose a mermaid-style wedding dress.” “She has no ass, so how does she have the nerve to choose a mermaid style?” Nina Wells sent a laughing-crying emoji. “Don’t say that about her.” “But she really isn’t suited for it. Her figure is too lacking.” Ethan Shaw replied: “Yeah, you have a great body. You’d look better in it.” I stood where I was, as if I had suddenly lost my voice. My chest sank little by little, and even breathing came with a dull ache. It turned out every single thing I had taken seriously. Every moment of joy when I looked forward to the wedding. Every bit of happiness I had hidden in my heart. In Ethan Shaw’s eyes, it was nothing more than a private joke for him and Nina Wells. I suddenly felt that there was really no need to get married.

I picked up my clutch and turned to leave. “There’s something at the company. I’m leaving first.” I went to the fitting room, took off the wedding dress, and changed back into my own clothes. When I passed through the front hall again, familiar voices came from inside. Someone inside lowered their voice and urged him. “Ethan Shaw, are you really not going after her? What if she refuses to marry you?” “Sophie looked like she was about to cry just now.” Ethan Shaw was silent for a few seconds, but his tone was very certain. “She won’t.” “Sophie is already thirty. She’s the most desperate to get married.” My heart sank hard. Thirty, desperate to get married… Those two phrases were like a blunt knife, cutting into my chest little by little. The next second, he said again: “But Nina just got teased by you guys so much that her face turned red.” “I need to go comfort her.” His friends started teasing him again. “How are you going to comfort her, in bed?” “You just said Nina was good in bed!” … My heart was already so numb that it could no longer ache. At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a message from my mother. “Honey, how is the wedding rehearsal going?” “I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress.” “For this wedding, from the venue to the flowers to the lighting, you confirmed everything bit by bit, and I’m so excited too.” “My daughter is going to marry happiness at her favorite venue!” Favorite? I suddenly remembered that at the very beginning, I had wanted a wedding themed around white lily of the valley. But Ethan Shaw only took one look at it and said: “Nina said lily of the valley is too plain.” “A wedding should be more vibrant.” So the lily of the valley was replaced with the red roses Nina Wells liked. I wanted pale silver lighting. Ethan Shaw said, “Nina said warm tones look better in photos.” I wanted pale pink embossed invitations. Ethan Shaw said, “Let’s listen to Nina. She’s young and has good taste.” Only later did I realize. The wedding I had seriously prepared for nearly a year. Bit by bit, it had been changed into something Nina Wells liked. And I, the bride, had only one thing left on it—my name. I looked at the wedding rehearsal site that had already become unrecognizable and suddenly smiled. Then I sent my mother a message: “Mom, I’m not going to marry Ethan Shaw.”

I sent the news that I was canceling the wedding to the wedding planner. She tried to persuade me for a long time. Seeing that I insisted, she finally sent one sentence. “Ms. Collins, I hope you meet someone who truly cherishes you in the future.” I replied with a “Thank you.” Then I went back to the home Ethan Shaw and I shared. This apartment was bought by Ethan Shaw and me together. The renovations were done by the two of us together. Only, I did not know when it had started. The living room was filled with the diffuser Nina Wells had sent over. The dining table held the mug she liked. Even the recliner on the balcony was something Ethan Shaw bought the next day after she said, “It’s comfortable to sit in.” I stood in the living room. Suddenly, I realized. This place had stopped feeling like my home a long time ago. Just like Ethan Shaw’s heart had long since been occupied by Nina Wells. I only took my documents, passport, and a few pieces of clothing. Halfway through packing, the door lock sounded. Ethan Shaw came back. He was carrying a jewelry bag in his hand, and his tone carried a hint of coaxing. “Babe, don’t be mad.” “This is for you. I remember you like this brand of perfume.” He opened the box, and inside was Tom Ford perfume. I did like this brand. Back then, I had passed by the display window and looked at it for a long time, but I did not buy it because it was too expensive. At the time, Ethan Shaw had held my hand and smiled as he said: “When we get married, I’ll buy you something even better.” Now he really had bought it. But what he bought was a berry rose scent. What I liked was woody fragrance. Nina Wells liked berry rose scents. Ethan Shaw used to remember that. But now. He had even forgotten what I liked. There was only Nina Wells in his heart. Ethan Shaw walked closer and pulled me into his arms. “Can we let what happened today pass?” I lowered my head and looked at that bottle of perfume. I gently closed the box and said without much emotion: “Thank you.” He seemed to finally breathe a sigh of relief. “I knew you were the easiest to coax.” After saying that, he turned and went into the study. His backup phone on the side table rang with message notifications. It was a message from Nina Wells. “Did you give her the gift?” Ethan Shaw replied. “Yeah.” “Almost gave the wrong one.” Nina Wells sent a snickering emoji. “Wasn’t that bottle originally bought for me?” After a few seconds. Ethan Shaw replied. “I’ll just buy another bottle.” “She’s older and doesn’t understand this stuff. It’s all the same to her.” I stood where I was. Suddenly, I found it very laughable. It turned out even the gift he used to comfort me. Was a spare item he had casually grabbed. I silently turned off the screen. I gently took off my wedding ring. And placed it together with the perfume on the entryway cabinet. At that exact moment, a notification popped up on my phone. Your booked flight has been ticketed. Three in the morning. Destination, Alaska, United States. This time. I would not look back again.

The next day, when I dragged my suitcase past the study, the door was not fully closed. Ethan Shaw’s low laughter came from inside. Nina Wells was actually there too. She wore a deep V camisole and sat on Ethan Shaw’s lap, as if she had long been used to this kind of closeness. A stack of wedding materials was spread across the desk. “Ethan, I went through the schedule again.” “The photo wall still feels a little empty.” Ethan Shaw raised his eyes. “Where is it empty?” Nina Wells flipped through the design draft, and her fingertip landed on one page. “There are too many photos from your seven years together.” “When you first met, your first trip, New Year’s Eve together… It’s an entire wall.” She laughed softly. “Guests don’t have the patience to look at all that.” Ethan Shaw was silent for a few seconds. “Then delete half of them.” “Just keep a few for the gesture.” My footsteps stopped. That photo wall. I had stayed up for three whole nights picking each photo one by one. Behind every photo, I had written one sentence about its story. Our first time holding hands. Our first time seeing the ocean. Our first birthday together. I thought those were the most precious memories of our seven years. But in his mouth, they were only “keep a few for the gesture.” Nina Wells continued flipping down. “And the vows.” “This line of yours is too ordinary.” She slowly read it aloud. “Thank you for walking with me through seven years, and please keep guiding me through every day from now on.” After reading it, she was the first to laugh. “It sounds like a company year-end speech.” Ethan Shaw also smiled. “I don’t know how to write them.” “You help me change it.” Nina Wells picked up the pen and wrote a few lines on the paper. “Meeting you was luck, staying with you is the answer.” “Isn’t this a little better?” Ethan Shaw lowered his head and glanced at it. “Yeah.” “I’ll listen to you.” I suddenly remembered. Half a month ago. I had handed him the vows I had written. I asked. “Should we write them together?” He did not even look at them. “We just need to read a couple of lines at the wedding.” “There’s no need to be so serious.” It turned out. It was not that the vows were unnecessary. It was just unnecessary to prepare them with me. Nina Wells flipped to the guest seating chart again. “Can the bridesmaids’ and groomsmen’s table be a little closer to the main table?” “I’m afraid I won’t be able to take care of you then.” Ethan Shaw barely hesitated. “Sure, I’ll tell the hotel.” She smiled. “Will Sophie mind?” Ethan Shaw lowered his head and continued changing the document. His voice was flat. “She won’t.” “Sophie has always been sensible.” Nina Wells suddenly lifted her head and kissed the corner of Ethan Shaw’s mouth. “Will she mind if I do this?” Ethan Shaw paused for a long time before saying, “She’s sensible. She won’t mind.” “It’s just that I’m about to marry Sophie, so we can’t do this anymore in the future.” Nina Wells’s eyes were red. “One last time.” I did not keep listening. Dragging my suitcase, I walked step by step toward the door. My phone suddenly vibrated. The wedding planner sent me a message. “Ms. Collins, Mr. Shaw just confirmed the latest plan.” “The photo wall has been reduced, the vows have been rewritten, and the bridesmaid seating has been adjusted.” “Please confirm one final time.” I lowered my head and looked at my phone. Suddenly, I found it somewhat laughable. Every change to the entire wedding. Had been personally confirmed by Ethan Shaw. But the real bride had become the last person to know. The planner quickly sent another message. “Also, the hotel needs final confirmation this morning.” “If you cancel now, there’s still time.” I did not hesitate. I replied with one sentence. “Cancel it.” Immediately after, I sent another sentence. “I will cover all breach-of-contract fees.” The other party was silent for a few seconds. In the end, she only replied with one sentence. “Ms. Collins, I wish you happiness in the future.” I put away my phone. I did not look back. After I boarded the plane, the text notification that the wedding was canceled was finally sent to Ethan Shaw’s phone. He immediately called the wedding planner, his voice sinking. “What happened?” The planner was even more shocked than Ethan Shaw. “The wedding was canceled by Ms. Collins herself. She said she was going to Alaska in the United States for work, and she probably won’t come back in the future.” “Mr. Shaw, you didn’t know?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “445080”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My niece, Sophie, was staying with me for the week, which just so happened to coincide with her fifth-grade school’s mock-economy Market Day. That evening, she dumped her backpack onto my hardwood floor in a chaotic cascade of erasers, plastic jewelry, and crumpled paper. “Aunt Margot, look! Look at all the stuff I bought with my school bucks today!” Amidst the colorful junk, a heavy, embossed navy-blue binder caught my eye. The gold lettering on the front read: Closing Documents & Title. “What on earth?” I picked it up, letting out a soft laugh. “Which kid brought their parents’ real estate portfolio to a school market? If their mom finds out, they are going to be grounded until college.” I flipped the heavy leather cover open, expecting to see a random address. Instead, the typed ink on the Grant Deed hit me like a physical blow to the chest. 101 Maple Drive, Oak Creek Estates. It was the exact address of the house I had purchased a year ago. The house that was supposed to be my marital home. But my name wasn’t on the deed. The listed owner was Heather Wright. My palms grew instantly damp. The air in my living room suddenly felt too thin to breathe. I pulled out my phone and texted my fiancé. Who is Heather Wright? The three grey typing bubbles appeared. They danced on the screen for a long, agonizing minute. Just a single mom in the accounting department, he finally replied. A colleague. Why? I stared at the screen. He had taken the home I paid for and transferred it to her. A colleague? If a colleague merited a four-bedroom colonial in the best school district in the state, then it was high time for the fiancée to step down. …… Oh, I typed back. My phone remained silent after that. I took a clear photo of the deed, saving it to a hidden folder on my phone. But I didn’t call him. I didn’t scream. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to; it was that it felt entirely futile. A man who casually signs away a million-dollar home to another woman doesn’t have innocent intentions. There was no misunderstanding to clear up. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a notification from Sophie’s PTA Facebook group. Hi parents, the teacher wrote. Did anyone’s child accidentally sell a blue binder containing legal documents today? The mother is frantic. Please reach out to her directly at this profile. I clicked on the linked profile. The profile picture was a glowing, sun-drenched family of three. My thumb hovered over the screen. I sent a friend request. She accepted it almost immediately. Hi there, her message popped up. I think my niece might have your documents. Let me know when is a good time for me to drop them off. I am so sorry for the trouble! Kids will be kids. Her tone was polite, sweet even. I didn’t reply right away. Instead, I clicked on her profile picture and zoomed in. The man in the photo—smiling warmly, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders—was my fiancé, Colin. A quiet, ringing sound started in my ears. Over the last few months, I had booked three separate appointments for our engagement photos. Colin had bailed on every single one. It was always a sudden crisis at work, an emergency meeting, an unavoidable late shift. Our wedding was mere weeks away, and we still didn’t have a single portrait together. But he had time to play dress-up for a family photoshoot. My hand was frighteningly steady as I began to scroll through her timeline. Her cover photo was the same family portrait. The newest post was from two days ago. So grateful to a certain someone for skipping work to support my little guy at his school’s sports day! The attached photo showed Colin hoisting a laughing little boy onto his shoulders. Colin’s smile was blinding. Radiant. It was a smile I hadn’t seen directed at me in over a year. Two days ago was the day I had begged him to come to my final wedding dress fitting. I’m swamped, Margot, he had said, irritation bleeding through the phone line. Just handle it yourself, okay? I scrolled down. Next post. Three days ago. Today is my birthday. Finally, someone is making sure I get the fairy tale I deserve. The photo was a beautiful, artisanal mango cake. Beside it sat a handwritten card. You need to love yourself just as much as you love your son. Happy Birthday. I’m always here. There was no signature. But the handwriting was unmistakably Colin’s. The sharp slant of his T’s, the looping Y’s. It was a funny coincidence. Three days ago, Colin and I had gotten into a massive argument about his constant absences. He had come home late, smelling like guilt, holding a slice of mango cake in a little cardboard box as an apology. I had eaten the leftovers of another woman’s birthday cake. My eyes began to burn, a sharp, stinging heat behind my eyelids. But I couldn’t stop. I kept scrolling. I dragged my finger up the screen until a specific photo stopped my heart entirely. Half a month ago. A random, rainy Saturday. I had woken up in the middle of the night with blinding, agonizing pain in my abdomen. I had called Colin’s phone twelve times. It went straight to voicemail. I ended up calling an ambulance for myself, riding alone in the back of the rig, and undergoing emergency appendectomy surgery at 4 AM. He never checked in. The next morning, he had sent a casual text: Drank too much with the guys, crashed at a hotel. Need something? But the photo on Heather’s timeline showed the stark fluorescent lights of an ER. The clock on the hospital wall read 3:00 AM. In the picture, Colin was sitting in a plastic chair, holding a little boy who was hooked up to an IV. A single tear slipped free, splashing hot and heavy onto my phone screen. I sniffled, wiped the glass clean, and kept scrolling. I sat there for over an hour. In that time, I only made it through the last six months of her life. On this timeline, in this digital universe, they were a beautiful, deeply in love family. And I was just a thief, hiding in the dark, peering through a window at a life that belonged to me. Are you there? Heather’s text popped up, breaking the spell. Yes, I’m here, I typed back. Are you living at the Maple Drive address now? I can swing by and drop the documents off. Yes! she replied instantly. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver. My finger hovered over the keyboard. She was already living there. Whenever I asked Colin when we could move in, he told me the renovations were delayed. When I pushed to just go see the bare walls, he snapped at me. Margot, do you not trust me? he had yelled, his face flushed with manufactured indignation. Are you worried I’m going to steal the place from you? If you’re going to hold your money over my head, maybe we shouldn’t get married at all. I had apologized. I had actually apologized. I bought him a pair of limited-edition Nikes to smooth things over. All while another woman was making breakfast in my kitchen. You must do very well for yourself, I typed, feigning casual conversation. Oak Creek Estates is gorgeous. I could only dream of living there. It was the premier neighborhood in the county. The amenities were unmatched, and it was zoned for the elite elementary school. Oh, gosh, no, she replied, attaching a blushing emoji. My partner bought it. He wanted the best school district for my son. I was so shocked when he gave me the deed! Her absolute joy practically radiated through the pixels. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a hollow smile. When are you free tomorrow? I’ll bring it by. We have the whole weekend off together! Just shoot me a text before you come. Her company gave them the whole weekend off. Colin had explicitly told me his new promotion required him to work Saturdays. It was blindingly obvious now where those Saturdays went. Sounds good, I replied. I wanted to see it. I needed to see what my home looked like. The next morning, I dropped Sophie back off at my sister’s house. I drove to Oak Creek Estates, parking my car half a block away from the house. I pulled out my phone and texted Colin. Where are you? Ten minutes later, the reply came. At the office, Margot. I told you, I have to work Saturdays now. The sheer irritation in his tone jumped off the screen. I looked up through my windshield. Not fifty yards away, Colin was walking out the front door of my house, holding a little boy’s hand, with Heather leaning affectionately into his side. I laughed. A quiet, breathless, broken sound in the empty car. I looked down and texted Heather. Hi, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Perfect! Thirty minutes later, I pulled into the driveway. Heather stepped out of the driver’s side of a silver Volvo SUV to greet me. Seeing the car, a bitter chill washed over me. Six months ago, while I was out of town for a conference, Colin told me he had hydroplaned on the interstate and totaled the Volvo I had bought him. I had been hysterical, terrified for his safety, crying on the phone just grateful he was alive. He claimed he walked away with just a few scratches, but the car was a total loss. He said the junkyard took it three days later. It wasn’t in a junkyard. It was parked in my driveway, with a child’s car seat in the back. I took a deep, stabilizing breath, grabbed the binder, and walked up the front steps. “Thank you so much for coming all this way,” Heather smiled warmly, taking the binder. “Please, come in for a bit. Let me get you some coffee.” It was probably just a polite pleasantry, but I stepped over the threshold anyway. While she busied herself in the kitchen, I stood perfectly still, taking in the living room. It was my Pinterest board brought to life. The hours I had spent agonizing over color swatches and furniture layouts… it was all here. The cream-colored bouclé sofa. The geometric black-and-white area rug. On the massive bay balcony, there was a small wicker swing chair surrounded by vibrant, blooming Kalanchoe flowers. “Have a seat,” she said, handing me a mug. My fingers trembled slightly as I took it. “The interior design is stunning,” I kept my voice light, breezy. “Do you mind sharing the name of the design firm? I’d love to use them.” Heather tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking a bit sheepish. “Oh, I actually have no idea. My partner handled all of it to surprise me. Let me ask him later and I’ll text you the contact info!” I didn’t hear her. My eyes were locked onto her earlobe. She was wearing a tiny, delicate four-leaf clover stud. Noticing my stare, she reached up and touched it, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “It’s a little worn out, I know. My partner gave it to me. He said it brings good luck.” My heart felt like it was caught in a vice grip. It didn’t hurt, exactly. It was just a profound, crushing ache. That earring was the first birthday gift Colin ever gave me. I remembered him standing behind me, his hands shaking slightly as he fastened the clasp, his arms wrapping around my waist. Margot, the clover means luck, he had whispered against my hair. I’m giving all the good luck I have in this lifetime to you. I had lost one of the studs a year ago. I had spent days crying, tearing the apartment apart, eaten alive by guilt. I swallowed the sandpaper in my throat. “Your husband is very good to you.” At the word husband, her expression faltered. A flash of something unnatural crossed her face. “Actually… he’s not my husband yet.” I played dumb. “Oh? But your son is already in grade school?” She took a sip of her coffee, buying time. “My son is from my first marriage. I was young, made a bad choice.” She set the mug down and pulled a thick, leather-bound album from the coffee table drawer, her smile returning full force. “But we are getting married soon! Look, we just got our engagement photos back.” She handed me the album. My fingertips were ice cold. On the cover, wearing a bespoke white tuxedo, was Colin. The bridal boutique in the background… was the one I had chosen. The one he had bailed on me three times to visit. I blinked hard, forcing the moisture back, and slowly turned the heavy pages. “We actually just shot these last month,” she chattered happily. “He picked the boutique and the photographer. I didn’t have to lift a finger.” Of course he did. Because I had spent an entire week, staying up until 2 AM every night, researching, reading reviews, and coordinating the vendors. And my dress. The dramatic, sweeping white gown with the cathedral train that I had fallen in love with… was draped over another woman’s body. I had sent Colin a link to that exact dress. It was still pinned in our text thread. Colin! Look at the train on this! I have to walk down the aisle to you in this dress! Twelve hours later, he had replied: Whatever you want, babe. I took a shallow, shaky breath. “Have you set a date? When is the big day?” “In two weeks. The fifth of next month.” Ha. The day before my wedding. Colin, you absolute monster. “Could I come?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. Heather looked surprised. “I’m getting married soon myself,” I lied smoothly. “I’m so nervous about the flow of the ceremony. I’d love to just sit in the back and watch how it all works. Get a feel for it.” She hesitated, glancing at the blue binder on the table. “I mean, since you helped us out…” She smiled, her eyes crinkling. “Sure! Why not.” I smiled back. A genuine, terrifying smile. “Wonderful. I’ll be sure to bring you a very special gift.” I exchanged a few more meaningless pleasantries before walking out of the house that should have been mine. When I got back to my apartment, I plugged a USB drive into my laptop and methodically downloaded every single photo, post, and comment from Heather’s timeline. When it was done, I sat in the dim light of my living room, staring at the blank wall. Colin and I had been together for five years. He used to tell me that the only reason he had stayed single through his twenties was because the universe was saving him for me. And I had believed him. How could I not? He remembered my coffee order, my allergies, my favorite obscure indie bands. If I was sick, no matter the time or distance, he would show up at my door. When I traveled for work, he would stay on the phone with me until I fell asleep in lonely hotel rooms. With him, I didn’t have to be the strong, independent woman I was at work. I could just be soft. But it was all a performance. Later that evening, the front door unlocked. Colin walked in, holding a massive bouquet of blue baby’s breath. “Margot,” he smiled, dropping his keys on the console. “Your favorite. Come on, don’t be mad at me anymore. I cleared my schedule. We’re going to the boutique tomorrow to look at dresses.” He hadn’t bought me flowers in months. I looked at the baby’s breath. It was beautiful. But underneath the faint floral scent was the overwhelming, unmistakable smell of lavender laundry detergent. Heather’s detergent. It was almost comical. I took the flowers and set them casually on the dining table. “Colin,” I said softly. “Do you really still want to marry me?” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but he masked it instantly. He pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me, and fumbled to clasp a necklace around my neck. “Did you hear some office gossip or something? Hmm?” He kissed the top of my head. “I only love you, Margot. No one else even comes close.” I breathed in the lavender clinging to his shirt. My throat seized tight. I opened my mouth to speak, but his phone rang. A custom ringtone. A little heart emoji popped up on the screen. Colin practically shoved me away to grab it. As he moved, the unremoved price tag dangling from the cheap necklace scraped sharply across my collarbone. I hissed in pain. “What?” Colin barked into the phone, his entire demeanor shifting to absolute panic. “Do not open the door! I’m coming right now.” He was already walking backward toward the front door. “Put the phone on speaker. Let the guy outside hear my voice.” He didn’t even look at me as he walked out, slamming the door behind him. I wanted to laugh. I really did. But as I looked down at the clearance tag dangling from the cheap metal on my chest, the tears finally came. They fell hot and fast, heavy drops hitting the hardwood. Five years. It felt like someone had taken a dull, rusted knife and sawed it through my sternum. There was no blood, but the agony was absolute. I had truly believed I was going to hand the rest of my life over to this man. Colin didn’t come home that night. I didn’t call to ask where he was. The next morning, my phone rang. It was him. I assumed he was calling to cancel our dress appointment again. But the second I answered, his voice came through the speaker, tight and accusatory. “Margot, I just saw you in Heather’s phone contacts. Why the hell are you adding her on Facebook? I told you, she’s just a colleague. Can you stop being so paranoid and stop harassing her?” I stared out the window at the grey sky. “Did you not look at the chat history?” He paused. “No. But Heather has had a hard life. If you have a problem, you come to me. Don’t go bullying her.” The blatant, desperate protection in his voice made my stomach turn. In the background, I heard Heather’s voice. “Who is it, babe?” “No one,” Colin said quickly. “Telemarketer.” The line went dead. The dial tone echoed in my quiet apartment, chilling me to the bone. A minute later, a text came through. Don’t overthink this. I just feel bad for her. Something came up at work, I have to travel for the next week. Go to the dress fitting by yourself. Okay, I replied. Then, I picked up my laptop. I canceled the bridal boutique deposit. I canceled the caterer. I texted my parents and told them the wedding was off. When they frantically called to ask why, I simply told them I would explain everything soon. I was canceling my wedding. But Colin… I was absolutely going to attend yours. True to his word, Colin didn’t come home for a week. He still texted me his usual, sickeningly sweet daily updates. It’s going to rain today, don’t forget your umbrella, babe. An hour later, I refreshed my Facebook feed and saw a photo of Colin, shielding Heather from the rain with his jacket as they ran to the Volvo. I didn’t reply. I just screenshotted it and added it to the folder. A week later, he came home, bringing me cheap souvenirs from his “business trip.” Every piece of clothing in his suitcase reeked of lavender. I acted like I didn’t smell a thing. I threw the souvenirs in the trash the moment he left the room. I played the part of the docile fiancé perfectly. Until the day of their wedding. I didn’t wear makeup. I wore a plain, dark trench coat. I slipped into the grand ballroom of the hotel and sat at a small table in the darkest corner of the room. From the floral arrangements to the lighting cues, to the processional music—I knew every single detail of this wedding by heart. Because it was mine. Colin stood at the altar, wearing the bespoke tuxedo I had flown to New York to have fitted for him. He looked handsome. Dashing. Staring lovingly at the double doors. The music swelled. The doors opened. Heather stepped into the light. She was wearing the strapless, diamond-encrusted ballgown with the cathedral train. I had booked that dress a month in advance. I had stayed up for three nights straight, on video calls with the designer, debating the exact placement of the Swarovski crystals on the bodice. It fit her perfectly now. They had altered it to her measurements. But then my eyes trailed up from the dress to the crown of her head. All the blood in my body turned to ice. My nails dug so hard into my palms they broke the skin. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to rush the aisle and tear it off her. She was wearing my grandmother’s veil. The vintage lace veil my grandmother had hand-stitched for me before she passed away. If you looked closely at the hem, there were two tiny, embroidered stick figures—a tall one and a short one. My grandmother and me. On the night of her funeral, Colin had gotten down on one knee in my childhood bedroom, draped that veil over my shoulders, and swore to God that he would be my shelter for the rest of my life. And now, it was pinned to the head of a woman he had been sleeping with for months. How could he? How dared he? My jaw ached from clenching it. A single, furious tear slipped down my cheek. Heather’s little boy, dressed in a matching mini-tuxedo, carried her train as she walked down the aisle. Under the glittering chandeliers, they looked like a picture-perfect romance. The ceremony began. The ring exchange. “The groom has designed a truly one-of-a-kind ring,” the officiant’s voice boomed over the speakers. “A piece a man only commissions once in his lifetime. The inside of the band is engraved with the merging of their initials, a symbol of their unique, destined love.” The massive projectors on the walls flashed a macro photo of the diamond ring. Engraved on the inside were the letters: H & C. My initials. I looked down at my own hand, pulled the simple gold band he had given me off my finger, and squeezed it in my fist until the metal bit into my skin. Then came the vows. Colin took the microphone, his voice thick with practiced emotion. “Heather… after all the wrong turns, it was always you.” He paused, looking deeply into her eyes. “I lost you when we were young and stupid. I left you to suffer the harshness of the world alone. But fate brought you back to me. You are my second chance, and I swear to you, I will never let you go again.” He actually choked up. A perfect, glistening tear fell from his eye. The guests around me began to whisper. “Gosh, Colin really is a saint,” a woman at the next table murmured. “You know he paid to build a new house for her parents back in their hometown?” “I heard her ex-husband used to beat her,” another whispered. “Colin stepped in and protected her. Almost got killed doing it. He’s a real-life hero.” “A pair of star-crossed lovers. Thank God they finally got their happy ending.” Sitting in the shadows, listening to the murmurs, I felt like the villain in a movie. The evil witch who had tried to keep the destined lovers apart. I reached into my purse. My fingers brushed against the stack of elegant, embossed wedding invitations. The ones Colin had painstakingly handwritten for our guests. The main lights dimmed. On stage, Colin lifted my grandmother’s veil and leaned in for a soft, cinematic kiss. My hand moved to my chest, pressing against my sternum. It didn’t hurt anymore. The agony was gone, replaced by a wild, terrifying, electric adrenaline. My heart was beating a war drum. I pulled the wireless microphone I had bribed the A/V guy for out of my bag. I stood up. “And now,” my voice blasted through the ballroom speakers, echoing off the high ceilings, shattering the romantic silence. “Please direct your attention to the screens to witness the groom’s true love story.”

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My agency spent three years and millions of dollars packaging me as a high-society siren. When this year’s hottest wilderness dating reality show, Love in the Wild, started filming, they wasted no time throwing me into the mix. Before the cameras rolled, my manager, Monica, grabbed me by the shoulders and hissed: “Remember: sultry, delicate, expensive. Take tiny bites. Never do any manual labor. Do not break character!” I made my entrance in five-inch stilettos, and for the first three days, I actually pulled it off. I drank through a straw, smiled without showing teeth, and gave coy, sidelong glances that made the male contestants too intimidated to look me in the eye. Then came day four. The producers decided to introduce a “survival challenge.” After three consecutive days of nothing but watery rice porridge, my eyes were practically glowing green with hunger. Across from me, this reality-starlet, Tiffany, was holding a single macadamia nut, whimpering about how she couldn’t open it. A couple of the male contestants took turns trying, their faces turning beet red as they squeezed, but the shell wouldn’t budge. I stared at that basket of nuts, and the raw, mountain-bred Appalachian blood in my veins surged straight to my head. “Move it! How long does it take to crack a damn nut? You all look like wet cardboard!” I snatched the nut and shoved it into my mouth. Crunch. The shell shattered. The entire set went dead silent for a half-second. But I couldn’t stop myself. I kept chewing, roaring through the entire basket in three minutes flat. Then, I grabbed a nearby coconut, split it open with the heel of my bare hand, tilted my head back, and chugged the water. A massive, echoing belch ripped out of me. Only then did I notice the red recording light on the camera directly opposite me was still glowing. Oh, shit. I was done for. … That burp seemed to reverberate across the beach for an eternity. Behind the camera crew, Monica’s face had turned the color of raw liver. She was tearing her hair out, frantically mouthing: “Your brand! Your brand!” To hell with my brand. Three days of watery porridge so thin you could see your reflection in it—I felt like I was about to ascend to the astral plane. When a mountain girl gets that hungry, she’ll chew through granite, let alone macadamia nuts. I tossed the empty coconut shell aside. It hit the wet sand with a heavy thud, leaving a deep crater. The male contestants took a collective step back. Especially that boyband idol who’d just failed to open the nut; he was looking at me like I was a cryptid. Only Tiffany didn’t retreat. She was the one who’d been whimpering over the nut earlier. Now she stared at me, her eyes darting quickly before they welled up with tears. “Roxy… how could you do that?” she squeaked, her voice trembling with calculated vulnerability. “The way you eat is so terrifying. My heart is literally pounding.” She clutched her chest and did a delicate lean toward the billionaire CEO contestant next to her. The CEO caught her, his brow furrowing as he glared at me. “Roxy, watch your behavior. You’ve terrified Tiffany. Do you have a single brain cell left?” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. I ate a nut. Is she going to have a cardiac arrest over a macadamia? Do we need to call 911 and get her carted off to the ICU? Stop talking out of your ass!” The live-stream chat exploded. “The country-girl slang is hitting like a freight train!” “A cardiac arrest over a macadamia nut? Roxy’s tongue is pure venom and I love it!” “I was already sick of Tiffany’s damsel act. If you can’t crack a nut, starve. Stop acting like a Victorian orphan.” Seeing she had backup, Tiffany cried harder. “Roxy, I know you love hogging the spotlight, but this is a survival show. We’re all exhausted, and you’re intentionally making these aggressive scenes. Isn’t that incredibly selfish?” I almost laughed out loud. I opened a nut with my own teeth. How the hell is that selfish? I really wanted to tap her skull to see if it was filled with sawdust, but the girl could act. And she wasn’t done. While everyone’s eyes were on me, Tiffany “tripped,” letting out a sharp gasp as she fell toward the folding table where our team’s supplies were kept. On that table were our group’s last five bottles of drinking water. Crash. The table flipped. The five bottles rolled straight into a muddy pit. The caps hadn’t been screwed on tight. Clean water mixed with black muck, bubbling away. The male guests gasped in horror. Tiffany lay sprawled at the edge of the mud pit, covering her face as she wept. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident! I was just so shaken up by Roxy… my legs gave out…” Through the cracks of her fingers, she peeked at me, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Off-camera, Monica was practically leaping in the air, frantic gestures telling me to apologize. Apologize? That word wasn’t in my vocabulary. I marched over to the edge of the pit. Thinking I was going to scream at her, Tiffany wailed even louder. “Roxy, I already apologized! Are you going to hit me now?” I ignored her, bent down, and grabbed her by the scruff of her collar. I’ve pinned two-hundred-pound guys with one hand during my training days; lifting her was like picking up a wet napkin. I hoisted her up and shoved her face right down toward the muddy puddle. “Legs gave out, huh? Can’t stand up?” I growled. “Since you spilled the water, you’re going to clean it up. Slurp. It. Up.” “If you don’t drink a quart of this mud water today, I’m snapping your head off and using it as a bowl!” Tiffany’s shriek almost ruptured my eardrums. She clawed at the muddy edge, her acrylic nails digging ten deep grooves into the dirt. “Help! She’s killing me! Oh my god, somebody help!” Her face, which had taken three hours of “no-makeup makeup” to paint, was barely an inch from the black sludge. The male guests finally snapped out of their daze and rushed over to play the heroes. The billionaire CEO led the charge, shouting, “Roxy, are you insane? Let Tiffany go!” I glared at him, pushing her head down another fraction of an inch. “You care so much? Fine. You drink it for her.” The billionaire stared at the swirling black muck. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his feet glued to the spot. The chat went wild. “Holy hell! This is beautiful! The only way to handle a snake is with raw physical force!” “Why did the billionaire freeze? He was talking so much game a second ago!” The production crew finally couldn’t ignore it. The assistant director and a couple of stagehands scrambled into the frame, pulling me back. Tiffany collapsed onto the sand, shivering, hyperventilating as she sobbed. The assistant director, wiping cold sweat from his forehead, tried to smooth things over. “It’s all a misunderstanding, let’s keep our tempers in check. The water is gone, but we can find a way. Right now, let’s pitch the tents. It’s getting dark.” Tiffany, having suffered a loss, glared at me with pure venom. But with the cameras rolling, she had to swallow her rage. Next up was pitching tents. The crew gave everyone a basic tent kit, requiring us to assemble them individually. The wind on this beach got vicious at night. If you didn’t secure it properly, you’d be miserable by midnight. I grabbed my kit and walked behind a large, wind-blocking boulder. Of course, Tiffany had to set up right next to me, choosing a spot barely ten feet away. I couldn’t be bothered to care. I headed into the woods to find sturdy branches to use as extra stakes. When I returned, carrying a bundle of wood, I noticed my tent kit had been tampered with. I opened it. The four main guy-lines had been sliced halfway through with a blade, the clean cuts leaving only a few thin threads holding them together. One gust of wind tonight, and they’d snap. I turned to look at Tiffany. She was sitting in front of her pink tent, calmly applying sunscreen. Feeling my gaze, she tilted her chin up. “Roxy, why haven’t you started pitching yours yet?” she cooed. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how? I can ask one of the guys to help you if you’re too shy.” She was banking on the fact that I had no proof. I looked at the frayed ropes and smiled. Honey, I was running wild in the mountain forests while you were still wearing diapers. Though, I have to admit, that sunscreen brand is pretty good. Playing dirty? Fine. I tossed the ruined tent aside and walked back into the woods. Less than twenty minutes later, I emerged carrying two logs as thick as my thighs. One on my left shoulder, one on my right. With every step I took, the ground felt like it vibrated. The entire camp went dead silent. Tiffany’s hand froze mid-air, her mouth hanging open. I slammed the logs down onto the campsite. Sand exploded outward, spraying all over her face. “Pfft! Cough! Roxy, what the hell are you doing?!” I pulled out my survival hatchet and began hacking at the logs. Woodchips flew in every direction as I quickly carved out four massive, sturdy stakes. I grabbed a heavy rock, hammered them deep into the sand, and used thick branches, vines, and a heavy-duty tarp to construct a fortress-like shelter that could withstand a category-three hurricane. Dusting off my hands, I walked over to Tiffany’s tent. “Your tent doesn’t meet safety standards,” I said. I grabbed one of her guy-lines. “Winds get heavy at night. These flimsy little strings aren’t going to hold.” Riiiiip. I yanked all four of her tension lines out of the ground by their roots and threw them straight into the ocean. Tiffany lost her mind. “Roxy! What right do you have to tear down my tent? You psycho!” I grinned at her. “Just eliminating safety hazards. Don’t mention it.” That night, the ocean winds howled. I slept like a baby in my fortress of a shelter. Next door, Tiffany’s tent flapped violently before collapsing. She spent the night shivering, clinging to a tree trunk, her weeping louder than the crashing waves. Morning came, and Tiffany’s eyes were swollen shut. Sneezing constantly, she glared at me with absolute malice. Today’s task was foraging. Free-roaming teams. Whatever food a team found belonged to them. Tiffany immediately went to work, crying to the male guests one by one. “Guys, I froze all night. I don’t have any strength today. Can I please join your team? I don’t eat much, I promise.” The guys, who had found me a bit too intimidating the day before, felt their protective instincts flare up seeing her look so pitiful. The billionaire, the boyband idol, and a younger actor all joined her team. Before setting off, Tiffany walked up to me. “Roxy, you’re so strong, I’m sure you’ll be fine foraging alone, right? We won’t hold you back. After all, we’re just normal people—we can’t compare to a powerhouse like you.” The billionaire chimed in, “Roxy, you can’t always do whatever you want. You went too far yesterday. Take today to reflect on your actions.” With that, the four of them marched off toward the rocky tidal pools, planning to forage along the shore. I watched their retreating backs and sneered. On the outside, I looked completely indifferent. On the inside, I was already deciding how much salt to put on my roasted fish. Reflect? My ass. Without those deadweights, I was in my element. I turned and plunged into the dense jungle. The live-stream chat split into two factions. One blasted Tiffany for forming a clique to isolate me, while the other waited to watch me fail, convinced a woman alone in the woods would return empty-handed. I ignored the cameras. Drawing on my childhood experience of running wild in the Appalachian woods, I began searching. Within half an hour, I spotted a trail of wild turkey tracks. Following them, I reached under a thick berry bush and pulled out five plump, speckled wild eggs. Then, I sharpened a long branch with my hatchet and went down to a mountain stream. With two swift, practiced jabs, I speared two fat trout clean through. At noon, I strolled back to camp with my haul. I built a stone hearth, lit a fire, and began roasting the fish. The wild eggs were nestled safely in the hot ash at the edge of the coals. Before long, the fat from the fish began dripping onto the hot embers, sizzling and filling the beach with a mouthwatering aroma. That’s when Tiffany’s team returned. The four of them were a disaster. The tide had come in, leaving them with absolutely nothing to show for their efforts, and they were soaked to the bone from the waves. Tiffany’s hair was plastered to her face, and her legs were covered in scrapes from the sharp barnacles. Starving after a long morning, their stomachs began rumbling loudly the moment they caught the scent of roasted fish. The guys swallowed hard, but pride kept them from walking over. Tiffany, however, couldn’t resist. She stared at the fish in my hand and squeezed out a pathetic smile. “Roxy… you’re such a good cook. That smells amazing.” I flipped the fish over, ignoring her. She bit her lip. “Roxy, we’re all on the same show, which basically makes us one big team. We didn’t have any luck this morning. Since you can’t eat all of that yourself, why don’t you share some with us? Please?” She reached out, trying to grab one of the wild eggs. My eyes went cold. I flicked the branch in my hand. Smack! It struck the back of her hand sharply. Tiffany shrieked, clutching her hand as she stumbled back, tears instantly welling up. “Roxy! What is wrong with you? Why did you hit me? You bitch!” I tore off a piece of flaky white fish and popped it into my mouth. “What’s wrong with me? Keep your sticky fingers off my food, or you’ll get hit again.” “You want to eat?” I pointed to the production crew’s point board nearby. “Trade me your points. Or pay cash. Ten thousand dollars a fish. No credit.” “What, do I look like your mother? Like I’m supposed to feed you for free?” Tiffany’s face flushed red, then pale. “Roxy, are you out of your mind? Ten thousand dollars for a piece of fish? Why don’t you just rob a bank!” The billionaire rushed over to defend his damsel. “Roxy, don’t be ridiculous! Tiffany is just hungry. Is it really necessary to be this petty?” I didn’t even look at them. I finished the fish in three bites and stuffed the wild eggs into my pockets. “If it’s too expensive, then starve. If you’re too useless to find your own food, that’s your problem. Stop whining.” I got up, brushed off my pants, and walked away, leaving the four of them standing in the wind, swallowing their spit. In the afternoon, the production crew suddenly announced an emergency task. They had dropped an air supply blind box somewhere on the island. Supposedly, it didn’t contain hotpot or sleeping bags, but a rare hidden item that could fast-track a contestant straight to the finale. The only clue was a fragmented map. Once they got the map, everyone headed into the woods. Tiffany’s eyes lit up. Clinging to the billionaire and the younger actor, she used their numbers to shove past me, intentionally leaving me at the back of the pack. I followed at a leisurely pace, treating it like a post-lunch stroll. These boots were rubbing my heels a bit, but the scenery wasn’t half bad. After about two hours of walking, a sharp shriek echoed from up ahead. “I found it! I found it!” I pushed aside the thick brush and stepped into the clearing. Tiffany was hugging a bright red chest, her face flushed with excitement. The billionaire and the actor stood close by, rubbing their hands in anticipation. “Open it quick! Let’s see what’s inside!” Tiffany eagerly threw open the lid. Everyone froze. The box was filled to the brim with ordinary rocks. The clearing went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, Tiffany slowly turned her tear-streaked face toward me. “Roxy… how could you do this?” she sobbed, pointing at the rocks. “I know you’re mad at me, but you can’t just steal the supplies ahead of time and replace them with rocks to humiliate us!” The billionaire took the bait instantly. “Roxy! I knew it! You were wandering around the woods alone yesterday—you must have found the box then!” The younger actor chimed in, “This is incredibly trashy. Eating all the food is one thing, but intentionally pulling a stunt like this is just malicious.” Tiffany collapsed to the ground, crying even harder. “I saw you walking down this trail earlier… Why would you lie to us…” The live-stream chat went into overdrive. “Roxy needs to be kicked off the air immediately!” “Stealing the gear and replacing it with rocks? Her character is absolute garbage.” “Cancel her! My heart breaks for Tiffany!” I stood there, watching Tiffany’s mascara run. On the outside, I was a statue. On the inside, I was absolutely thrilled. This idiot had walked right into my trap. “You’re saying I stole the gear and put rocks in the box?” “Who else!” Tiffany snapped, standing up to glare at me with righteous indignation. “Who else has the freakish strength to haul all these heavy rocks out here?” I nodded slowly. “Fine. Since you’re so eager to dig your own grave, I’ll help you.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and tapped into the app connected to my trail cameras. “Sorry to burst your bubble, folks,” I said, holding the screen up to the camera lens. “I have a habit when I’m in the wild. Back home, we worry about raccoons stealing our chickens, so I set up a couple of compact, motion-activated trail cams in the trees. Purely coincidental, but this branch happens to be right in the line of sight.” Tiffany’s face drained of color. I hit play. On the screen, from a video recorded thirty minutes prior, Tiffany was seen slipping away under the pretense of using the restroom. She opened the blind box, stuffed the premium hotpot meal kit and the high-end sleeping bag into her own pack, and then proceeded to gather rocks from the ground to fill the chest. The clearest part of the footage showed her stuffing a chocolate bar into her mouth while packing the rocks, smears of chocolate coating her lips. The clearing went dead silent. I looked down at Tiffany, who was now paralyzed on the dirt, and let out a cold laugh. “Raccoon, was it tasty? You absolute dumbass.”

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Seven years after my death, the boy I grew up with became the biggest movie star in the country. Taylor was the darling of the silver screen, a man with a golden future, a stunning fiancée, and a life everyone envied. Then, during the live broadcast of a popular celebrity couple’s reality show, he found my diary. Inside were ten years of my unrequited love for him, and the quiet, agonizing details of the nights I was bullied by his fiancée. The very last page read: “My world is about to rain. Can you come and hold an umbrella for me?” The date at the bottom was the day before I jumped from the rooftop. And then, he went mad. … I have been dead for seven years, my spirit tethered to Taylor’s side, forced to watch him. Today, he brought his fiancée, Carlin, back to the old Victorian house where we had grown up together. The yard was packed with heavy camera rigs, filming a live-streamed dating show that was currently broadcasting to millions of viewers online. On the screen of a nearby production monitor, the live chat was scrolling at a dizzying speed. [user_9921: OMG Taylor and Carlin are finally on a show together!] [golden_hour: True love is real. Get married already, we’ve got the marriage license ready for you!] Carlin pushed open the door to my old bedroom. She immediately covered her nose with an exaggerated, delicate pout, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Oh, Taylor, it smells so musty in here. Like cheap, old dust. It’s suffocating.” Taylor stood in the doorway, the harsh midday sun casting a shadow that cut his face in half—one side bright, the other cast in darkness. He looked down at Carlin, his eyes filled with a tenderness that seemed almost performative. He reached out, playfully pinching her nose, and smiled for the cameras. That smile was once the brightest light of my entire youth. “Lucy was always a slob,” he said, his voice light and dismissive. “Don’t go in. You’ll ruin your shoes.” He had forgotten. This room was the one he had spent weeks painting and decorating for me when he was seventeen, using the very first paycheck he earned from his summer job. Now, I was just “that slob, Lucy.” My spirit stood directly in front of him, separated by the seven-year chasm of my death, watching the casual disgust pooling in his eyes. The live chat immediately exploded at the mention of my name. [cozy_vibes: Who is Lucy? Sounds like she had history with him?] [pop_culture_nerd: Are you new here? Just some clingy neighbor girl from back in the day. Taylor mentioned her in an old interview once—said she was a total parasite.] [sweet_pea: I hate the childhood-friend trope. Who did she think she was, trying to compete with our Carlin?] [chloe_fan_page: Look at Carlin’s face. She looks so uncomfortable. This Lucy person must have been trash.] Carlin glanced at the production monitor, saw the comments, and her eyes welled with instant, practiced tears. She leaned into Taylor’s chest, looking up at him with a helpless, fragile expression. “Taylor, tell them not to say things like that… Lucy… she was just the girl next door. Maybe… maybe she was just a little too intense sometimes, but she didn’t mean any harm.” It was a masterclass in manipulation. With just a few soft words, she painted me as a desperate, boundaries-crossing stalker, while simultaneously establishing herself as the saint who pitied me. Taylor let out a cold laugh, tightening his arm around her waist. He looked directly into the camera lens, his voice steady, deliberate, and cruel. “She was a selfish, cold-blooded leech who would do anything for a handout. It’s been seven years, and she hasn’t called once. We don’t talk about her. She’s bad luck.” My ghost stood close enough to touch him, staring at the sheer aversion etched into his features. “It’s been seven years, Taylor. How was I supposed to call you?” “Should I have burned letters to the grave? Or should I have crawled into your bed at midnight to ask you if, in all these years, you ever woke up in the dark and thought of me, even once?” To keep up her image of the perfect, dutiful fiancée for the cameras, Carlin offered to help clean up the dusty room. “Taylor, this is where you grew up. It’s full of your history,” she said, her voice soft. “Let’s clean it together. Consider it… a way to say a proper goodbye to the past.” Still wearing her four-inch designer heels, she swayed gracefully into the room. Her eyes scanned the floor and locked onto a dusty, weathered cedar chest tucked beneath the bed frame. She walked over, pretending to lean down to move a side table, but as she did, her expensive heel “accidentally” slipped. With precise, heavy force, she kicked the wooden latch of the old chest. With a loud crack, the fragile, dry wood of the old chest splintered. The contents spilled out across the floorboards. There were old, scratched CDs I had saved up for weeks to buy; the hollow shell of a tiny turtle we had raised together; and… A faded, lock-bound diary. The diary rolled out from the pile of clutter, stopping right at Taylor’s feet. A tarnished, faded teddy bear keychain hung from its lock. That keychain was a cheap trinket Taylor had pulled from his pocket on his sixteenth birthday. I had saved up for months to buy him a pair of limited-edition sneakers, and he had felt so awkward about not having a gift for me that he tossed the keychain in my lap. He had said, “Here. Consider yourself lucky.” Taylor’s gaze froze on the diary. He bent down and picked it up, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. Carlin immediately chimed in, her laughter sharp and high-pitched. “Oh, what’s this?” She covered her mouth, giggling. “Don’t tell me it’s Lucy’s diary. Do you think it’s full of love letters to some random guy? Taylor, open it! Let us see what kind of terrible taste she had!” The moment the words left her mouth, Taylor’s expression darkened. His fingers gripped the small, fragile brass padlock. The veins in his hand bulged, and with a sudden, violent wrench, the metal snapped. He tore the diary open, flipping to the very first page. The paper held my neat, youthful handwriting. “September 3, 2008. Sunny. Taylor talked to the girl in the class next to ours again today. My chest felt tight. I hate that I’m like this.” Taylor read it and let out a dry, mocking laugh. Without a second thought, he turned the diary toward the camera crew following him. “Come on, let’s give the audience a laugh,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “A little adolescent melodrama to liven up the stream.” My spirit froze in the air. He was going to take the quietest, most vulnerable pieces of my soul and turn them into a punchline for millions of strangers. The live chat went wild. [user_4431: LMAO Taylor is savage! Public execution!] [drama_mama: Who is this Lucy? The thirst was real. How embarrassing to be exposed like this.] [hater_blocker: I bet ten bucks the rest of this diary is just her scheming to trap him.] Encouraged by the surge in live viewers, Taylor continued to flip through the pages, his tone theatrical and mocking. “June 7, 2012. Pouring rain.” “To make sure I get into the same college as Taylor, I haven’t gone to sleep before two in the morning for a year. My head feels like it’s splitting open. The exams are finally over today. I hope we both get what we want.” He looked up at the camera, raising an eyebrow. “Pure self-martyrdom,” he scoffed. “My grades were perfect back then. I didn’t need her staying up late to ride my coattails.” Carlin laughed, leaning against his shoulder. “Wow, she was really playing the long game, wasn’t she? Trying to guilt you even back in high school. Taylor, you must have been so exhausted dealing with her.” But he had forgotten. That was the year he had become addicted to online gaming, and his GPA had tanked. He had forgotten the storm-ravaged night he stood on my porch, his eyes red and swollen, gripping my hands like a drowning man, begging me. “Lucy, please. Help me. I don’t want to go to some community college. Please, you’re the only one who can help me pass.” It was for him that I stopped sleeping. I spent every night summarizing his textbooks, highlighting formulas, predicting exam questions. That was the year my health began to fail. That was the year I developed the chronic insomnia and the stomach ulcers that would never truly heal. He flipped the page to our sophomore year of college. “October 1, 2014. Overcast.” “Taylor has a girlfriend now. It’s the beautiful transfer student, Carlin. He told me he loves her. He said he’d do anything for her. Tonight, my pillow felt wet, like the rain from the window had leaked inside.” Taylor’s face flushed with a smug, victorious satisfaction. He turned around, and in front of millions of viewers, he pressed a deep, lingering kiss to Carlin’s forehead. “Sorry to disappoint you, Lucy,” he murmured into the microphone, his voice dripping with romantic charm. “But my eyes have only ever been on Carlin. As for you… you were just an anchor I wanted to cut loose.” The chat erupted into a frenzy of swooning fans. The hashtag #TaylorTheUltimateFiancé began trending nationally. I looked at his face, feeling a wave of nausea. I remembered the night he got blindingly drunk, sobbing under my dorm window. He had held me so tight I couldn’t breathe, crying into my shoulder, “Lucy, she said I’m not famous enough. She said I don’t fit in her world and she wants to break up. Lucy, don’t you ever leave me. I’m so scared.” But the next morning, sober and cold, he had taken Carlin’s hand and told me, “Lucy, stay away from me. Carlin gets upset when she sees you around.” It was terrifying how easily a person’s memory could be rewritten to fit their own convenience. Because of this impromptu reading, the stream’s viewership hit an all-time record for the platform. The hashtags #LucyTheManipulator and #LucyTheParasite were pushed to the top of the trending topics by Taylor’s public relations team, marked with a stark, deep red “Popular” tag. He was using my dead, silent heart to build a pedestal for his own career. He kept flipping pages, determined to tear down whatever shred of my dignity remained. But as the dates in the diary progressed, the tone of the entries grew heavier, darker, and more suffocating. The smirk on Taylor’s face slowly began to fade. “December 24, 2015. Snowing.” “It’s Christmas Eve. Carlin and her friends dragged me to the abandoned cold storage unit behind the dining hall. When they left, they locked the heavy iron door from the outside.” “It’s so cold. Taylor, where are you? I’ve called you twenty-three times. Why won’t you answer?” The atmosphere in the live chat suddenly froze. The stream of comments stopped for several long seconds, leaving a bizarre, empty void on the screen. Then, the tide turned. [user_112: Wait… what? Locked in cold storage? Is this… is this real?] [west_coast_girl: Holy crap. That’s not drama, that’s straight-up assault and kidnapping. Is Carlin a psycho?] [melancholy: Twenty-three missed calls… Oh my god, she must have been freezing to death.] [watcher_7: I don’t think this diary is a joke anymore.] Carlin’s face turned paper-white. She threw herself into Taylor’s arms, her tears flowing instantly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “It’s a lie! Taylor, she’s lying! I would never do something like that! She was jealous of me, she made up these awful stories to ruin my life! She’s sick!” Taylor looked like he had been struck. He stared at the shaking woman in his arms, then at the rapidly shifting comments on the monitor. He pulled Carlin behind him, shielding her from the camera, and spoke with forced conviction. “Lucy was a compulsive liar,” he said, his voice tight but loud. “She’d say anything for attention. This is just some cheap, fictionalized diary she wrote because she couldn’t stand seeing us happy!” He was so certain. He didn’t hesitate to defend her. My ghost floated closer, screaming into his ear with every ounce of my non-existent voice. “Look at my hand, Taylor! Look at it! Did you forget that the index finger on my right hand is missing a joint because of severe frostbite?” “You were the one who drove me to the emergency room! You signed the consent forms for the amputation! How could you forget?” But he couldn’t hear me. He only remembered that when I had tried to tell him what happened back then, he had looked at me with nothing but exhaustion and disgust. He had said, “Lucy, you’d seriously mutilate yourself just to make me hate Carlin? You make me want to throw up.” The diary went on. “March 11, 2016. Overcast.” “The doctor says I have clinical depression. Severe.” “I can’t stop doing it. I take the blade to my wrist, drawing line after line after line…” “When the blood flows, the hollow ache in my chest doesn’t hurt as much.” Taylor stared at the page, a flicker of irritation passing over his face. He scoffed at the camera, his voice cold and dismissive. “Depression? Right.” “Back then, she’d take a tiny razor and scratch her skin just to show up on my doorstep crying, claiming she couldn’t go on.” He paused, a flicker of pride returning to his eyes as if he were recalling some great achievement. “I didn’t fall for it. I took an utility knife from my desk, threw it at her feet, and told her if she wanted to die, she should do it right instead of using cheap tricks to get my attention.” “I told her I don’t tolerate threats.” The live chat, which had briefly wavered, swung back in his direction. [fan_boy_9: King behavior! That’s how you handle toxic, manipulative exes!] [cloud_nine: People use ‘depression’ as an excuse for everything. She was just obsessed.] [dark_knight: She should have just gone through with it instead of ruining Taylor’s life.] The words on the screen mirrored the very comments I had seen online before I died. Behind Taylor’s back, Carlin let out a tiny, triumphant smile, her eyes filled with malice. Taylor turned the pages faster, desperate to find more proof to show the world that I was a lunatic, a liar, a parasite who deserved no pity. Finally, he reached the last page. The final entry was short, only a few lines of text. The handwriting was smeared and blurred by heavy water stains—the dried remnants of my tears. Taylor had to lean close to the paper to make out the words. He read them aloud, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Taylor, my world is about to rain. Can you come and hold an umbrella for me?” “It hurts so much. The pills aren’t working anymore.” “Please answer the phone. Just once.” Suddenly, his voice caught in his throat. His eyes locked onto the date at the bottom of the page. “December 24, 2016. Christmas Eve.” A memory, sharp and violent, crashed into his mind. That night, to give Carlin the perfect, grand proposal, he had rented out the most expensive plaza in the city center, setting off a massive display of custom fireworks that lit up the winter sky for hours. While the fireworks surged, his phone had vibrated relentlessly in his pocket. He had found it annoying. He had declined the call over and over again. Carlin had giggled in his arms, saying, “Who is that, Taylor? They’re ruining the moment. Just block them.” So, when the twenty-fourth call came through, he had finally swiped answer. His first words to me—and his last—were: “Lucy, are you out of your mind?” “Why don’t you just go die and stop tracking me like a rat in the sewers?” Then, he had blocked my number. He had personally extinguished the very last thread of hope I had left. On the live stream, everyone noticed the sudden, drastic shift in Taylor’s demeanor. His face had gone entirely pale, and the fingers holding the diary were trembling uncontrollably. Carlin felt a cold dread sink into her chest. She quickly stepped forward, trying to break the tension with a sweet, innocent tone. “Taylor, don’t let her play with your head. She was always such a good actress. Why don’t you just call her right now on speaker? Let’s show everyone she’s perfectly fine, probably living comfortably somewhere, laughing at how she tricked us all.” She wanted to destroy my memory completely. Even after death, she wanted to drag my name through the dirt. Taylor seemed to snap out of his daze. Desperate to push down the suffocating, inexplicable panic rising in his chest, he gritted his teeth and pulled out his phone. “Fine. I’ll call her. I’ll make her apologize to you on camera.” In front of millions of viewers, he went into his blocked contacts, found the number that had lain dormant for seven years, and pressed dial. He put it on speaker. The long, drawn-out ringback tone echoed through the silent house, heavy and metallic. “Ring…” “Ring…” The silence in the room was absolute. Just as Taylor was about to let out a breath of relief, the line clicked. It connected. The entire audience held its breath. But the voice that came through the speaker wasn’t mine. It was a deep, stern, official-sounding voice of an older man. “State Police, Records Division. Who is calling, and what is your relationship to the registered owner of this number, Lucy?” Taylor froze, his voice faltering. “I… I’m looking for Lucy. Put her on the phone.” The voice on the other end went entirely cold. “That is impossible.” “The registered owner, Lucy, committed suicide by jumping from an abandoned building in the south district at 3:00 AM on December 25, 2016. She was pronounced dead at the scene.” “Who are you? And why are you only calling now, seven years later?”

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