During my public lecture, I plugged in the USB drive to pull up my slides.

But the cursor slipped and clicked the wrong file — My Love.

The auditorium erupted in whistles and catcalls.

Then the audio played.

"James, tell me — am I better than Catherine Simmons…"

The room went dead silent.

I turned around slowly.

It felt like being struck by lightning.

I couldn't think about anything else. Like a woman possessed, I dialed James Sanchez's video call over and over until he picked up.

Through the camera, I could see a delivery uniform crumpled on the floor.

Water was running in the bathroom.

James lay back against the pillows, his expression bored and languid.

"Babe, I just ordered takeout. The delivery guy tripped when he got to the door, and then he insisted on using our bathroom…"

He kept rambling.

But a notification lit up at the top of my phone — a priority alert.

It was an Instagram story from my best friend, Julia Simmons.

"Door-to-door delivery. Today's treat has arrived…"

In the photo, a woman tilted her head with a coy smile, wearing a delivery uniform over her clothes. Behind her — my bathroom.

……

My hands trembled like butterfly wings.

I drove home. Nearly crashed getting there.

I'm going to tear them apart.

That was the only thought in my head.

The so-called clumsy delivery guy was already gone.

Before James could open his mouth, I snatched the uniform off the floor and hurled it into his face.

"You think I'm stupid?"

A flash of irritation cut across James Sanchez's handsome features.

It vanished just as quickly, replaced by a voice soft as silk.

"What's wrong?"

"Upset about working overtime? Then let's skip it. I'll take care of you."

His voice was lazy, drawling.

Like he was coaxing a puppy.

I froze.

Something white-hot clawed its way up my chest.

"Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

James pinched the hem of the uniform between two fingers.

Tossed it back on the floor.

"Explain what?"

"That I'd be interested in some delivery driver?"

"That I'd spend your overtime hours going at it with her for rounds on end?"

Amusement bled into those dark pupils.

"Catherine, don't let your imagination run wild."

"We're bound together for life, you and me."

The anger that had been burning through me cooled inch by inch.

He was too calm.

It made me look like the crazy one.

"Let's get a divorce."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Every ounce of fight drained out of my body.

James stared into my eyes, unblinking. Then a cruel smile twisted his lips.

"Really?"

"Catherine?"

He climbed off the bed, slow and deliberate, and walked to my side. He grabbed the cabinet door and wrenched it open. A wall of paper toppled forward.

Every single sheet was a divorce agreement.

"We've signed eight of these already."

"And gotten married eight times."

"I give you everything you want. How is that still not enough?"

I wanted to say I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I wanted to say I'd seen the eight hundred videos of him and Julia.

Every word jammed in my throat.

Sharp enough to cut.

He nudged the papers on the floor with his foot.

Then gently wiped the tears from my face.

"Catherine, you're so starved for love."

"She's a delivery driver. You really think I'd look twice at someone like that?"

"Catherine, you need to learn to think."

His breath ghosted across my skin.

"Or maybe… what you really want is this."

He pulled me into his arms.

Long, angular fingers hooked open the nightstand drawer.

Inside sat a full box of condoms.

I glanced down.

Strawberry flavored.

A laugh ripped out of me, sudden and sharp, filling the room at the worst possible moment.

Something lurched in James's chest. An unease he couldn't name.

"What's so funny?"

My words dropped one by one, each hitting the floor like a stone.

"James Sanchez. I'm allergic to strawberries."

Clatter.

The whole box hit the floor.

They scattered at my feet.

Strawberry was Julia's favorite flavor.

James's hand trembled as he took mine. He forced a smile so strained it looked painful. His tone was almost pleading.

"My secretary picked those up. She must've gotten the flavor wrong. Believe me."

I pulled my hand free.

I opened my mouth to tell him straight.

You're just as disgusting as she is.

The phone on the bed buzzed violently.

Caller ID: Julia.

"The System's going to electrocute me, James, save me, only you can save me..."

James ruffled my hair.

"We'll talk when I get back."

He moved so fast I couldn't even catch the hem of his shirt.

"One minute."

My voice was stiff.

He didn't look back.

I sank to my knees on the floor.

"James, I'm pregnant."

The pain crept over me like ivy, dense and suffocating, spreading across every inch of my body.

My heart seized until I couldn't bear it.

Yes. I was starved for love.

Julia had shown up on my family's doorstep when she was three years old.

The first thing out of her mouth was that she was the Heroine.

Even my birth had been Julia's request.

She said every Heroine needed a Side Character by her side.

So I was born.

Everything she did was a task assigned by the System.

By the time I'd cried myself dry, I noticed James had sent me a video call.

I picked up.

He acted like nothing had happened.

"Hey, babe. Get some sleep."

He left the video running.

Julia was on the ground behind him, curled up as if in pain.

He knew I was insecure.

Video calls had become our nightly ritual.

My priority contacts notification lit up.

Best friend — Julia Simmons.

"Cathy, I feel so bad for you..."

A location pin.

James's office building.

The stairwell.

What were they doing in the stairwell?

I removed Julia from my priority contacts with a flick of disgust.

My hand shook.

Catherine Simmons, you pathetic fool.

Julia had demanded that everyone set her as a priority contact.

Including me.

I'd never dared refuse.

I pulled myself back to the present.

Minutes passed.

The screen on the other end went black.

No sound.

Curiosity gnawed at my chest like a swarm of ants tearing into flesh.

I followed the address she'd sent me to the office stairwell.

The entire building was dark.

"Getting bolder, aren't we? She's not even asleep yet and you couldn't wait, could you, James?"

I stepped onto the stairs.

Julia's voice burrowed into my ears.

The man's voice was low and hoarse.

"I put sleeping pills in the aromatherapy diffuser. She'll be out any minute."

The emergency light in the corridor cast my shadow against the wall.

And my face, white as paper.

That diffuser was the first gift he'd ever given me.

I had never received a gift before.

So I'd kept it on display, never opened it.

When James noticed, he bought more.

He said that way I'd have a new gift to open every single day.

My grip on the railing tightened.

I didn't dare climb any higher.

"You came here. She didn't put up a fight?"

Julia's question echoed through the empty stairwell.

It clung to me like a ghost.

"Put up a fight?"

"Of course she did."

"She wants a divorce."

"And next time, don't leave your clothes at my place. She'll cry if she sees them."

An invisible fist closed around my heart.

The pain was so sharp I could barely breathe.

"Did you agree to it?"

"James."

The sound of heavy breathing drifted closer.

The man's low, languid voice rippled through the dark.

"After the first time she brought up divorce, I never filed the marriage certificate..."

"Really? Then let's go get ours tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

A buzzing filled my ears.

Everything went white with static.

I thought I was hearing things.

Then I finally saw what they were doing.

Julia looked down and spotted me too.

She moaned louder.

"Cathy, are you watching? Your husband is so good."

"What a shame there's no audience for today's new setting..."

I looked down at my phone screen, the video call still connected.

They were moving lower down the stairwell.

And I scurried downward like a rat fleeing into the dark.

Then my foot slipped.

"Ah—!"

Julia and I screamed at the same time.

James looked down and frowned.

"I think someone's there."

Julia hooked her arms around his neck, triumphant.

"Even better."

A pool of blood spread beneath my legs.

I couldn't tell which part of my body wasn't in pain.

"Mrs. Sanchez?"

It was James's female assistant.

She glanced upward in horror.

"You..."

A bone-deep, ice-cold agony radiated through every limb.

I felt like I was dying.

"Call... call 911..."

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital.

The smell of antiseptic flooded my nostrils.

"Mrs. Sanchez..."

The assistant trailed off, unable to finish.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"I know. The baby didn't make it."

I should have known all along.

That baby was something I'd forced into existence.

James had always been so restrained with me. I thought it was respect.

It was never respect. It was indifference.

Of course.

The second male lead was always supposed to belong to the heroine too.

Never to a side character like me.

The truth was, I hadn't come to find James today to fight with him. I wanted to beg him to leave with me. Maybe if we got far enough away from Julia, he'd still be mine. Just mine.

When did I fall in love with James?

It was back when the whole world revolved around Julia.

James had said:

"What's wrong with your best friend? Does she have some kind of princess complex?"

"She goes around telling everyone she's the heroine and I'm the second male lead, like I'm supposed to serve her."

"Please. Did she escape from a psych ward or something?"

I'd laughed without meaning to.

He froze for a second.

The tips of his ears went red.

"Catherine Simmons, you're really beautiful."

That very night, Julia shoved open my bedroom door and snarled at me.

"If you ever try to seduce James again, I'll kill you."

For the first time in my life, I talked back to her.

"But don't you already have a fiance?"

"You already have your own male lead."

That earned me the beating of a lifetime from both my parents.

"Have you no shame? Going after your own best friend's man."

"We should've strangled you in your crib..."

They always said things like that.

That they regretted having me.

Well, I regretted it too.

Then James came.

When he saw me, there wasn't a clean patch of skin left on my face. My lips, my fingers, my back, all bleeding.

It was the first time I ever saw James lose his temper.

He took me away.

And asked me:

"Catherine Simmons, will you marry me?"

"Everyone who's ever hurt you, I'll make them pay. I promise."

Those whispered words felt like they'd been spoken only yesterday.

I held the miscarriage report the doctor had handed me, and for the first time, I felt an eerie calm settle over me.

Right. None of it was ever really mine.

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

I turned to James's assistant again. This time, there was a quiet plea in my eyes.