Brimming with frustration, Jared immediately raised his foot to kick open the door.

I composed myself, smoothed out my expression, and stepped out.

Jared froze for a split second before pulling me into his arms. "You’re trying to scare me to death, aren’t you, Lia? Is your stomach acting up again? Let’s go to the hospital right now."

I shook my head. "No need. A bowl of the hangover soup Auntie made will do the trick."

Without hesitation, Jared took the bowl from Auntie, gently blew on it to cool it down, and fed it to me one spoonful at a time. "Come on, drink this. Tonight, I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay home with you."

I swallowed the soup silently, lips pressed together. Suddenly, his phone buzzed repeatedly. I knew it was her.

Annoyed, Jared put down the bowl and reached for his phone, intending to turn it off. But whatever he saw on the screen made him hesitate. His expression shifted slightly, and he quickly turned to me with an apologetic look.

"Darling, there’s a bit of a mess with the night market’s art exhibition. I..."

Before he could finish, I suppressed my disgust and replied graciously, "Work comes first. You should go. Auntie’s here, so you don’t have to worry about me."

Jared’s furrowed brows smoothed out instantly. He kissed me lightly and hurriedly promised, "Take your medicine and rest early. I’ll be back as soon as I sort this out."

I nodded, and only then did he leave, seemingly relieved.

Once he was gone, a message from her popped up again.

[You lost, Lia. On such an important day, Jared still left you. Want to know what I told him?]

I didn’t respond, but instead sent her the screenshots of their synced chat history.

She went silent for a few minutes before replying,

[Since you’ve seen it all, there’s no point in hiding anymore. Yes, I’m pregnant, and the child is his.]

I tossed my phone aside and went to the bathroom, scrubbing every inch of skin that Jared had touched.

When I came out, she had sent me photos of Jared accompanying her to the hospital.

Almost simultaneously, Jared texted me as well, [Darling, the exhibition issue is a bit tricky. Be a good girl and sleep first. I miss you.]

I couldn’t help but laugh.

He had a child with another woman, yet he still had the audacity to tell me he missed me without feeling the slightest bit of shame.

Countdown: Day Six

Jared didn’t come home at all last night. It seemed becoming a father was an exciting milestone for him.

Early in the morning, I called Professor Davis to confirm the procedures and sign the agreement for the time capsule experiment.

"Lia, this is a serious decision," Professor Davis warned. "Once you enter the time capsule, you might not return to the real world for twenty years. Are you sure you don’t want to discuss this with your family?"

I shook my head. "Since my grandmother passed, I’ve been alone. There’s no one to discuss this with."

"And your boyfriend?" he asked.

"We’ve broken up," I said resolutely.

Professor Davis looked surprised but nodded with a hint of regret. After all, Jared’s grand romantic gestures to win me over back then—kneeling in the rain for a whole day and night against his family’s objections—were widely known.

"And this time...?"

Understanding his concern, I explained my reasoning. "My grandmother’s sudden passing left a scar in my heart. I want to use this opportunity, through the time capsule experiment, to see her again from afar."

Professor Davis nodded thoughtfully and gave me a final word of caution. "The time capsule’s world is still imperfect. Be extra cautious once you’re inside. Above all, you must avoid meeting your other self in that timeline. If their consciousness awakens, it could be fatal to you."

I nodded in understanding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jared and that woman emerging from a mall across the street, arms wrapped around each other. The two laughed and teased one another like a pair of lovers madly in love.

This time, I finally got a clear look at her face.

Clenching my coffee cup tightly, I let a cold smirk tug at the corners of my mouth.

So, it was her. She really knew how to put on a show.

Jared made a point to come home during lunch, bringing a Tiffany Victoria necklace to "make amends."

"I’m sorry, darling. The art exhibition kept me up until late last night, and I ended up crashing at the office," he said, his voice filled with regret. His eyes were slightly red, as if he’d been up all night agonizing over something.

"I didn’t balance work and life well," he continued, guilt-ridden, while carefully fastening the necklace around my neck. He then took my hand gently, brushing his thumb over the back of it in an apologetic, almost ingratiating manner—the way he always did when he tried to win me back after upsetting me.

Suppressing my disgust, I smiled and reassured him. "It’s okay. The exhibition is your labor of love for the past three years. It’s only right to give it your all."

Lowering my gaze, I cut a piece of steak and held it up to his lips. "Eat something. You must be starving after working through the night. Your lips are so dry, and your eyes are bloodshot."

Perhaps sensing the subtle undertone in my words, his expression froze for a moment. Flustered, he swallowed the steak, then leaned his head against my shoulder, feigning affection.

"My darling always worries about me. Just give me a little more time. Once I’ve proven myself, my family will have no choice but to agree to our marriage. And when that day comes, I’ll give you a wedding that you’ll remember for the rest of your life."

In the past, when he talked about our future wedding, my eyes would tear up, and I would dream about it with him.

Now, I realize how laughably naïve I was.

Jared had taught me the hard way. 'When a man lies, he doesn’t even blink.'

I pushed him away, revolted. No matter how expensive the cologne, it couldn’t mask the stench of betrayal.

Countdown: Day Five

I visited my family home for the first time in three years to retrieve some keepsakes my grandmother left behind.

My stepmother greeted me with her usual snide remarks, muttering to my father, "Look who finally remembered her roots. Did that painter boyfriend of hers dump her?"

My father shot her a warning glance and came over, forcing a smile as he tried to defuse the situation. "It’s been so long since we’ve seen her. Why bring up unpleasant things?"

Back then, Jared had slapped my stepmother across the face while standing up for me, a slight she’d never forgiven.

As I stood there, Molly, my half-sister, suddenly appeared and threw herself into my arms, nuzzling me like a kitten. "Sis, you’re finally back! I missed you so much!"

Molly always acted harmless in front of me, but behind my back, she schemed to take everything I had.

When I gently pushed her away, she made sure to tilt her neck just enough for me to notice the faint hickey on her skin.

No need to guess whose it was—Jared’s.

The photos, the chat logs, and now the pregnancy. She was in a hurry to push me out of the picture, desperate to marry Jared before her belly grew too obvious to hide.

After all, my father was obsessed with his reputation. If he found out she was pregnant out of wedlock, he wouldn’t hesitate to disown her.

For a moment, I actually pitied her.

Even without me in the picture, Jared would never marry her.

Who would accept the daughter of a bar dancer, especially someone from a family like Jared’s?

Molly's reckless behavior now was proof enough—her unborn child was destined for a bleak future.

I went upstairs to my grandmother's old room. Everything was still just as she had left it.

At least my father still had a shred of filial piety.

Years ago, when he cheated on my mother, it drove her into depression and turned our home into a battlefield. If not for my grandmother's constant mediation, our family would have crumbled long before.

When my mother passed away, it was my grandmother who took care of me. She was my pillar, the only light in those dark times.

Three years ago, a sudden and tragic accident took her away from me. Shortly afterward, Molly and her mother waltzed into our home with triumph written all over their faces.

It was then I discovered that the little girl who had clung to me for over a decade, calling me "Big Sis Lia," was actually my father’s illegitimate daughter.

Behind our backs, my father had bought them an apartment in a nearby neighborhood. It turned out the late nights he spent away from home was because he had a second family.

I still remember how pathetic it all seemed. Molly, who couldn’t pass her exams, cried her eyes out. I, the fool, volunteered to tutor her at her "home." Her mother praised me endlessly, and I naively called her "pretty auntie," one sweet word after another.

That day, when I returned from her house, I held the candy her mother had given me, excited to share it with my own mom.

But my mother’s reaction was nothing like I expected. She clutched her chest, sat silently on the sofa, and stared at me with anger in her eyes. Then, for the first time ever, she slapped me.

Through my tears, I couldn’t understand her reaction. I cried and accused her of being unfair, unable to grasp why she was so upset.

Now I understand the depth of her despair.

She endured years of betrayal for my sake, a silent sacrifice that left her battling breast cancer and depression until the very end.

Now, with Molly and her mother firmly entrenched in the home that wasn’t theirs, could I truly let them walk away unscathed?

With only a few days left before my departure, why not give them a parting gift?

Clutching my grandmother’s photograph and her treasured tin box, I descended the stairs.

I found Molly nestled in her mother’s arms, the pair of them murmuring sweet nothings.

When they noticed me, my stepmother’s smile vanished, replaced by a sneer.

"Rummaging around up there for so long—I was wondering what treasure you could be after. Turns out it’s just that old woman’s junk box," she taunted.

Her disdainful tone made me pause. Then she added, "Don’t tell me you’re planning to use that as your dowry?"

Hearing what she said, my father shot her a warning look.

"Lia, don’t pay attention to your aunt’s nonsense. You and Molly are both my precious daughters. When you get married, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure the Brown family respects you."

I gave him a faint smile, still indifferent. "Don’t worry, Dad. Save what little you have left. You might need it to scrape together Molly’s dowry."

The moment the words left my mouth, both my stepmother and Molly’s faces darkened.

My stepmother, teeth clenched, was the first to lash out. Pointing at me, she barked indignantly, "What are you implying, Lia? Your father’s money has been carefully saved for you both! I’ve never spent a penny on myself! Are you accusing me of squandering the family’s wealth?"

Her self-righteousness faltered as she tried to hide the bracelet glinting on her wrist. Her eyes darted nervously.

My father’s brows furrowed. Suspicion flickered in his gaze as he turned toward her.

Sensing the shift, Molly quickly stepped in. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pitifully wiped them away.

"Sis, do you have some misunderstanding about my mom? She’s always been frugal, even refusing to buy herself new clothes."

Watching her sob like delicate as a flower in the rain, I couldn’t help but grab an orange from the table.

"Stop crying. I'm just joking, Molly. Come on, have an orange."