But she turned around and told the teacher I was trying to cheat.

Every time I vented to Gerard about it, he'd get so angry he could barely contain himself. He told me to stay far away from people like that, the kind who repaid kindness with cruelty.

Yet he not only believed her, he canceled our engagement over it.

My adoptive parents took my side at first, comforting me, telling me not to worry. They told me to wait until Leila calmed down, until the investigation cleared things up.

But that wait stretched on for an entire year.

During that year, I was terrified of losing them. I walked on eggshells, did everything they asked, deferred to Leila at every turn, and watched as they slowly stopped noticing me.

Until finally, the disgust in their eyes made it clear they'd decided I was exactly what she said I was: a scheming thief who'd stolen someone else's life.

While I was lost in thought, my phone chimed. A private message from Leila.

I know you saw it. Drop the act. We've been happy together all these years. Don't even think about being a homewrecker.

I scoffed and didn't bother replying.

I tapped into her profile instead. Her account was full of photography content she'd shared. A handful of followers. A low-tier photographer certification, the kind anyone could buy.

I laughed.

Gerard ruined my career to pave the way for yours, and you still can't amount to anything.

Back then, under the weight of their cold stares, I'd earned a spot in an international exchange program through competition alone. I thought that would be enough to win back their affection.

But one week before I was supposed to leave, Gerard took all of my work and reported me to the photography competition organizers, claiming I'd plagiarized Leila's work.

The school and the organizers revoked my exchange spot immediately.

I watched Leila trail behind Gerard, satisfaction and a thin veneer of pity on her face.

I could barely get the words out.

"Why?"

His expression was colder than the day I'd refused to let him follow me around when we were eight.

"She may not be as talented as you, but she works harder. She needs this opportunity more than you do. Besides, if it weren't for what you did back then, she'd be the one with all of this."

"You're the one who stole from her."

In that moment, everything he'd said when he was eighteen felt like a lie.

The rage hit me so hard I collapsed and ended up in the hospital.

When I woke up, Gerard was sitting by the bed. He sighed.

"There's no need for such a dramatic reaction. She said she only wants a career. She won't compete with you for anything else. I'll still marry you. But I have one condition."

"From now on, you can't do any work related to photography publicly. But privately, whenever she needs help, you help her."

His words were vague, but I understood perfectly.

I stared at him, trembling.

"You want me to be her ghostwriter?"

He grunted in acknowledgment.

"You owe her that. That award-winning piece is something she'll never be able to produce in her lifetime. So to make it up to her, you'll shoot for her until she decides she doesn't want to be a photographer anymore."

That day, I destroyed everything in the hospital room like a woman possessed.

It didn't change his mind.

The day before Leila left the country, she came to see me. She was carrying my award, holding my exchange spot, and clutching an offer from the prestigious magazine that had been meant for me. My boyfriend stood beside her as she thanked me.

I snapped. I screamed and hurled everything within reach against the walls.

After Gerard left, I quietly pulled out my phone and drew her into conversation.

She didn't suspect a thing.

She laughed.

"Honestly, I was just jealous of you. So I made up a lie. I never expected them all to actually believe it."

I swallowed the storm raging inside me. After she was gone, I filed an appeal and posted every last word of it on the school's forum.

I thought the truth would finally set me free.

But what I got wasn't my adoptive parents coming to their senses.

Instead, Gerard hired someone to produce evidence that the audio recording was a fabricated AI edit.

He even told everyone I had a severe mental illness.

Then he deleted every precious piece of footage I'd captured over thousands of days and nights since I first picked up a camera.

Including every shot I'd ever taken of him.

He said that as long as any of it existed, it would destroy Leila beyond redemption.

I became a pariah. Classmates shunned me. Teachers looked at me with contempt.

When the school expelled me, he said to me:

"She's pitiful. She's already on the verge of a breakdown. I can't destroy the last thing she has left, so I have no choice but to let you take the fall."

I asked him, my voice raw and hoarse:

"Have you forgotten what she did to me? So you don't love me anymore, is that it?"

He recoiled like a cornered animal.

"Of course I love you! But can you stop dragging up ancient history? Everyone makes mistakes. She's not some monster!"

That day, I finally understood.

The person who played hero for me could just as easily play hero for someone else.

An hour before Leila's flight, I saw her on the TV in the psychiatric ward, being interviewed by reporters.

She was radiant, beaming, nothing like the withdrawn girl I'd first met.

Standing beside her was Gerard, gazing at her with open devotion.

How perfectly matched they looked. It cut through me like glass.

Even my adoptive parents came to tell me to stop trying to ruin them. To just let it go. To consider it good karma.

I lay on the hospital bed, staring at the empty ceiling.

I thought about who I'd been at seven years old. Owning nothing, yet so happy.

And then I jumped from the fourth floor.

I didn't die. On the way down, I hit a tree. It broke my fall just enough.

But the impact to my abdomen was severe. The doctors said I might never be able to carry a child.

While I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard my adoptive parents urging Gerard to call off the engagement and just be with Leila.

He refused. Sharply.

"No. I have to marry her. It's the only way to keep her under control and clear the path for Leila."

So when I woke up, I didn't hesitate for a single second.

I severed the tendon in my right hand.

What I could no longer do, I would rather destroy than let anyone else take from me.

Once they realized I was useless, they stopped visiting.

I cut every last tie to all of them.

And I went north. Alone.

The year after I left, Gerard and Leila got together.

Not long after that, I met Clarence Gilbert.

And I started a new life.

As for what Gerard called "stalking his social media"—

I'd stumbled across one post by accident. It looked familiar, so I tapped on it.

After that, his content kept appearing no matter how many times I blocked it. Like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

I gripped my phone, my brow knotted tight.

A small hand reached up and smoothed the crease between my eyebrows.

"Mommy, Mommy! What are you thinking about?"

Before I could answer, a larger, warmer hand settled over the same spot.

"What's got you so lost in thought? Benny Abbott's been calling you forever."

I looked up at the gentle face of the man in front of me.

Then I handed him my phone, the chat log still on screen.

After a long moment, he let out a quiet scoff.

"Unbelievable. These days, apparently anyone can call themselves an ex. Sit tight. Tomorrow night, your husband's going to put on a show."

He used my name to create a class reunion group chat and had his assistant organize a get-together.

He also made sure the invitation was personally passed along to Gerard and Leila.

Inside the private dining room, I sat at the head of the table, making small talk with old classmates.

Then a low, tense murmur drifted in from outside the door.

I walked over and opened it.

Leila's pinched expression melted instantly into something soft. She hurried to loop her arm through Gerard's, who stood frozen beside her.

"Long time no see! Where's your husband? I thought you said he was coming today."

I held the door open.

"Something came up. He'll be here any minute."

The words barely left my mouth before Leila let out a derisive laugh.

"Meg, honestly, you didn't have to make up an imaginary husband just to spite us. Even if you really are single, we wouldn't laugh at you."

"But don't go getting any ideas you shouldn't have. My fiance made things perfectly clear to you yesterday. It's over between you two. The only reason we agreed to come today was to make sure you finally let go."

An awkward silence rippled through the room. Gerard looked the most uncomfortable of all.

He glanced at me with a trace of guilt in his eyes.

"She doesn't know how to phrase things. Don't take it to heart."

"She's just worried you haven't moved on, that you'll box yourself in trying to prove something. She's only giving you a reminder. She doesn't mean any harm."

"Marriage especially is a major life decision. It's not a bargaining chip you throw down out of spite. You need to choose carefully. If you haven't found the right person, there's no rush. Take your time."

"Just don't do something you'll regret."

His voice grew heavier with every word.

I offered a faint smile.

"You've gotten a lot more long-winded over the years. But thanks for the concern. I know exactly what I'm doing."

I lifted my wine glass and reached across the lazy Susan to clink it lightly against his.

His throat bobbed. He raised his glass and drained the red wine in one go.

When he looked at me again, his reddened eyes held something unreadable.

I was about to say something else when—

Crash.

Leila hurled her glass straight at me.

"Have you no shame? I'm sitting right here, and you're making eyes at my fiance!"

"You said you weren't thinking anything? You're playing hard to get, trying to ruin what we have, trying to steal him from me!"

"You homewrecking tramp! Keep dreaming. He's mine!"

A shard of glass sliced across my forehead.

Warm blood trickled into my eyes, metallic and sharp.

I winced. Beside me, Gerard's panicked voice cut through the chaos.

"Meg! Are you okay?"

He rushed toward me, reaching for the wound.

But in the next instant, someone else was faster. A pair of arms pulled me into a tight embrace before Gerard could close the distance.

"Sweetheart, are you alright? Let me see."

Clarence gently wiped the blood from my face.

I leaned into his chest and shook my head.

But when I looked up, I saw Gerard standing frozen, his face flushed crimson, veins standing out at his temples.

"You… really got married?"