I struggled and screamed, but my parents remained unmoved.

To them, I was simply ungrateful. Robbie was already a high school teacher at such a young age; I was nothing but a fresh high school graduate, and whether I could even get into university was uncertain. In their eyes, I was the one climbing above my station.

They locked me in the Stark family's woodshed—and Rachel, who refused to marry Ned, was locked away too.

Even though Rachel's family was better off—her father a factory director—there was still a younger brother to consider. Aside from the generous wedding gift already prepared for her, everything else belonged to him.

We exchanged a glance through the gloom of the shed and felt our hope drain away. I crouched in a corner with a long-suffering sigh. Rachel crouched beside me. In that cramped, dark room, we leaned on one another like we always had; only we knew how deep the pain ran.

Rachel let out a rueful breath. "They say a girl who isn't loved has no home after marriage. Looks like we don't even have a home before we're married."

I answered with a sigh of my own. "Haven't we learned that the hard way in our last life? There's no one we can rely on but ourselves."

Outside, the wedding celebrations went on. No one cared how the two brides felt. Everyone was busy congratulating the Stark brothers, my parents, and Rachel's parents.

What was there to celebrate? I thought miserably.

Given a second chance at life, we weren't going to live it like we had before, submissive and defeated. I shook my head at the memory of last life's misery.

"No," I said. "We still have advantages this time."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "They've locked us up. We can't fight them, we can't run. What advantage do we have?"

I tapped her shoulder and leaned in close. "In our previous life, we were kept in the dark. But this time, we know exactly what Robbie and Ned want, don't we? And I remember clearly: after the wedding party, we didn't register the marriage. Why don't we use that to our advantage?"

The Stark family wouldn't keep us locked forever. After the feast dispersed, someone at the shed door unfastened the lock. Robbie stood in the doorway; likely drunk, his pale face tipped with liquor.

"Had your fun?" he slurred. "If you're done making trouble, then be a good wife."

He reached up as if to stroke my head. I flinched on instinct, but forced myself to stay put and put on a timid expression.

"Will you really treat me well?" I asked, voice small.

Robbie laughed. "Of course. You're my wife. If I don't treat you well, who would I treat well?"

I gave a wry smile.

That saying I'd once heard on short videos in my past life was right—a man's words are nothing but lies.

In my past life, before stealing my admission letter, Robbie had been quite the actor.

I pretended to believe him, lowering my gaze with a shy, timid air as I followed him outside.

Rachel caught sight of my expression and nearly shook with suppressed laughter. She only behaved herself when Robbie turned back and ordered her into Ned's room.

For a while afterward, Rachel and I crafted excuses, claiming we had our periods to avoid being intimate.

Perhaps because they still intended to use us—or perhaps out of lingering guilt—Robbie and Ned played the role of attentive husbands.

When Scarlett came calling, the four of us were tending the vegetable patch together. Robbie was carefully tucking back the loose strands of my hair, while Ned, grinning, fanned the sweat from Rachel's brow.

The moment Scarlett saw this scene, the smile on her face froze.

Fortunately, both men quickly jumped to their feet and stepped away from us, and only then did her expression smooth back into place.

"Mary, Rachel," she said sweetly, "sorry to intrude. I have something to discuss with Robbie and Ned."

The words nearly made me laugh. What business did she have to discuss with two married men?

How had I never noticed her little tricks in my last life?

Rachel, too, looked puzzled, though neither of us said a word. We simply watched as both men, all but tripping over themselves, hurried after her.

Scarlett turned, gifting us with an apologetic smile.

"Mary, Rachel, I'll just borrow them for a little while. You don't mind, do you?"

She was waiting—hoping—to see disappointment or unwillingness on our faces.

Instead, we grinned foolishly.

What was there to mind? In our last lives, she had "borrowed" them often enough.

"Of course not," I said lightly. "Go ahead, use them as you please."

Her smile faltered, her expression stiffening like a fist that had landed in cotton. She glanced back and caught sight of the Stark brothers' faces, which had darkened for no apparent reason. Her heart gave a nervous jolt, and she hurried them into the house.

Meanwhile, Rachel and I stood in the courtyard, moving in perfect sync as we rubbed at our arms, gooseflesh prickling all over.

There was nothing to be done but endure the humiliation for now.

Still, Scarlett's sudden visit suited us just fine. Without even asking, we knew why she was here. The timing was right. She had come for the admission letter and for money.

Sure enough, after only a few minutes of hushed talk, she left in a rush—though not empty-handed. She carried away a tin of milk powder Robbie had insisted she take, and a red hairpin Ned had just picked out for Rachel.

The three of them lingered at the doorway, reluctant to part, until they turned and caught sight of me and Rachel watching with meaningful smiles.

Flustered, Robbie blurted out, "It's not what you think. Scarlett is Mom's goddaughter. Ned and I are just looking after our sister."

Both men looked uneasy, terrified we might make a scene. After all, they knew perfectly well—I loved milk powder, and Rachel had coveted that red hairpin for ages.

But we showed no reaction, only smiling as we answered, "If she's a god-sister, then of course you should look after her. We don't mind."

Watching the two men exhale in relief, Rachel and I exchanged a quiet glance.

The time was almost ripe.

In my previous life, it was around this time that my admission letter should have arrived. And it was also around now that Ned first brought up the idea of needing money to buy a house.

These past few days, Rachel and I had been playing our roles well—obedient, compliant, just like before, acting as if we couldn't live without the Stark brothers.

So when I offered to go out and buy groceries, they didn't suspect a thing.

Before I left, Robbie smiled, his eyes curved in that gentle arc he was so good at faking.

"Mary, thank you for your hard work. Buy some spinach while you're out. I remember it's your favorite."

Spinach? Not anymore.

Because Scarlett hated spinach, our household hadn't seen a single leaf of it in thirty or forty years in the previous life. Even if I had once loved it, I no longer recognized the taste.

I nodded calmly, but instead of heading to the market, I took a turn and made straight for the school.

Admission letters were always delivered there in bulk. I didn't even need to guess—Robbie would definitely take mine before it ever reached me.

So I made up an excuse about picking something up for him and slipped into his office.

His office was almost bare, save for one object that stood out: a delicate porcelain teacup, far finer than anything else in the room.

I remembered that teacup.

In my previous life, Robbie had treasured it like gold. Even after retirement, he used it every day at home. One afternoon, while mopping, I accidentally knocked it to the floor. He flew into a rage and slapped me across the face.

Hurt and humiliated, I confided in my son, only for him to frown and say that the cup was precious.

Precious? Not because of its make. But because it had been a gift from Scarlett.

Expressionless, I tore my gaze away from the teacup and pulled open his drawer.

My fingers brushed past a stack of love letters he had written to Scarlett, reaching straight for the envelope pressed at the very bottom—the one with my name on it. My admission letter.

I ripped it open without hesitation, tucked the contents into my bag, and grabbed a scrap of paper. Scribbling a few words, I stuffed it back into the empty envelope.

My pulse hammered as I shut the drawer. Without daring to linger, I slipped out.

At the school gates, I sat beneath a tree and waited, nerves buzzing, until finally… I spotted Rachel.

"Rachel! You scared me half to death. I thought you wouldn't make it out!"

Rachel came running, breathless, sweat beading her forehead, and rolled her eyes at me.

"All thanks to that bastard, Ned!" she spat through clenched teeth. "I was afraid he'd notice something amiss. He kept pestering me for money to buy a house. I refused no matter what, but he badgered me for what felt like forever.

"Normally, he's silent as a stone, but when it comes to Scarlett, suddenly he's all fire and devotion."

"After I gave him the passbook, he even promised to buy me a silver bracelet. Mary, you know, in our previous life, I waited until my dying day and never saw that bracelet!"

Because the moment Scarlett laid eyes on it, she had demanded it for herself.

I sighed softly and placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder.

"Don't dwell on it. It's all in the past. Do you have the passbook?"

"Of course I do! This time, if they think they can spend my money, they're dreaming."

Rachel looped her arm through mine. Her eyes, once dulled and lifeless in our last life, now glittered faintly, like stars in the sky.

"Mary," she said with sudden, fierce determination, "let's go. Let's carve out a wider world for ourselves."