while everyone is upset, please refrain from making xenophobic comments about chinese people/lads players!! itâs reductive and makes me uncomfortable, and iâll be deleting any that i come across.
voice your thoughts without prejudice please!
Cosmic Funnies
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wallacepolsom
d e v o n
Mike Driver
hello vonnie

tannertan36

JVL
taylor price
macklin celebrini has autism
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$LAYYYTER
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titsay
Misplaced Lens Cap
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸

shark vs the universe
Keni

seen from Germany
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@an-ari
while everyone is upset, please refrain from making xenophobic comments about chinese people/lads players!! itâs reductive and makes me uncomfortable, and iâll be deleting any that i come across.
voice your thoughts without prejudice please!
was taking a shower, suddenly started thinking about how LaDs is all about loneliness and the human nature to desire companionship
rafayel is a god who was so lonely that he refused to take MC and make his soul whole because he would lose that one person that feels like his other half (because she literally is) thus leading to their cycle of rebirth and death
zayne in all incarnations is someone who was fated to be alone but met MC, he learns what loneliness is from her absence and that makes him defy his fate and be punished for it
xavier is the textbook definition of the lonely prince/heir who finally finds companionship with MC, but struggles between his desire to keep her and his sense of duty as a prince
sylus doesnt want to be alone. he wants to have someone who will stand with him at the very top. modern sylus versions/AUs are almost fatherlike in their attempts to encourage MC to be better, because they want her to be able to stand beside him as a peer.
caleb cant live without orders, without an expectation of what hes supposed to do. hes lonely in the most desperate sense of the world, he can be surrounded by a crowd and its still not enough. hes replacable. but with MC, hes unique- hes her only big brother, her only cyborg companion, her only etc etc. caleb has an important role with MC that cannot be replaced.
and MC, canonMC, is very lonely too. shes a girl whos alone in the world, she has no family, barely any memories, and the men in her life keep leaving. shes a boat out at sea, singlemindedly pursuing her white whale because otherwise if her boat stops shes just alone adrift at sea, no place to anchor and no shore to rest at. sometimes she meets fellow sailors, sometimes she has grand adventures, but they always leave in the end. the boys have complicated relationships with her sure, but it goes both ways.
okayyyyy
first in my bloodline to see stick figure porn. thank you infold
Paper Airplane Dreams
Synopsis: On your fifth wedding anniversary, Caleb's first love returns to Linkon City. That night, you catch Caleb masturbating in the bathroom, muttering MC's name. Huh. So that's why Caleb didn't touch you in your five whole years of marriage. Caleb: I promised MC I'd celebrate her birthday with her. I'm just fulfilling a promise I made a long time ago. You: Okay. Caleb: I'm going on a mission, MC will be acting as my assistant, she has experience as a Hunter, she's suited for the role You: Go ahead. When you stopped getting angry, stopped crying, and stopped making a scene, he's lost. Of course you weren't angry anymore, because you were leaving too.
Warning(s): ANGST. 30k WORDS OF PURE HURT/NO COMFORT. Non-cannonical timeline/events (no evol shenanigans). I had an interesting time exploring Caleb's selfish, egoistical, possessive, but also oblivious sides. MC and Gideon are assholes. Liam and Yvette are shockingly the best couple. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
29.9k words
A/N: This was a monster of a fic to write; I literally made myself cry in the process. Please tell me in the comments how much your blood pressure increased by reading this and how you'd like Caleb to die (or if you think he deserves some redemption). In the meantime, feel free to ship non-mc with any of the other LIs! Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this super long piece; I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations <3
T - 30 days The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom. Caleb is taking a shower. At 3am. He had just returned from god knows where.
You stand at the bathroom door, a little nervous, wanting to discuss something with him. Just as you are trying to figure out the best way to phrase it, you hear a strange sound coming from inside. After listening carefully, you realize with a gasp that he was taking care of himselfâŚ
Each breath and groan is like a heavy hammer blow, relentlessly pounding on your heart. The pain spreads like a tidal wave, leaving you sinking in it, unable to breathe.
Actually, today is your wedding anniversary. Your fifth year of marriage, and you've never consummated it. So, he preferred to take care of himself rather than touch you?
As his breathing grows more rapid, he suddenly lets out a low growl, his voice strained with barely suppressed emotion, "Pipsqueak-" That one word delivers the final, fatal blow.
Your heart pounds, as if something just shattered into dust. You try to cover your mouth to stifle your sobs, and turn to run, but stumble on your first step, bumping into the sink and falling to the floor.
"Y/N?" Caleb's voice inside hasn't calmed down yet; you can tell he is trying to control himself, but his breathing is still heavy.
"I...I need to use the restroom, I didn't know you were taking a shower..." you stammer, clumsily grabbing the sink to stand up.
The floor and sink are wet. The more you try, the more helpless the situation becomes. By the time you finally manage to stand, Caleb emerges from the door, his white bathrobe hastily pulled on with the belt fastened tightly.
"Did you fall? Let me help you." He makes a move to pick you up. Tears well in your eyes from the pain, but you push his hand away, your expression a mixture of distress and determination. "No need, I can do it myself."
After nearly slipping again, you limp and stagger back to your bedroom. No, "escape" is the more accurate word. For the five years you were married to Caleb Xia, you've been doing nothing but constantly running away.
Running away from the outside world, from everyone's strange looks, and from Caleb's pity and sympathyâhis wife is a cripple.How can a cripple be worthy of the brilliant and successful Caleb Xia?
You were not always like this...
Caleb follows you out, his voice gentle and concerned. "Did you hurt yourself? Let me see." "No, I'm fine." You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding your disheveled state under it. "Are you really alright?" He sounds genuinely concerned. âMmm.â You nod vigorously, back facing him. âSo, are you going to sleep? Didnât you want to go to the bathroom?â âI donât want to anymore now, letâs sleep?â You whisper.
âAlright," he pauses. "By the way, today is our anniversary. I bought you a present. You can open it tomorrow and see if you like it.â âOkay.â The present is on the bedside table; you've already seen it, but you already know what is inside without even opening it.
It's the same size box every year, containing the exact same necklace. In your drawer, there are already nine identical ones. This is the tenth.
The conversation ends there. Caleb turns off the light and lies down across from you. The damp scent of bodywash fills the air, but you barely feel the bed sink. In the two-meter-wide bed, you sleep on one side, and him on the other side at the very edge; there is enough space in between for at least another 3 people.
Neither of you mention "pipsqueak", nor what he had just done in the bathroom, as if nothing happened. You lie stiffly, eyes burning with pain.
Pipsqueak, or MC, was his adopted younger sister, his first love, his goddess. Upon high school graduation, MC went abroad, leaving Caleb behind. He was devastated.
You and Caleb were classmates in middle and high school. You admit that you had a crush on him at the time. Back then, he was the school heartthrob, a cool and aloof academic star, while you considered yourself pretty ordinary. Not the most academically gifted, nor the most popular or pretty. You had a face everyone could recognize, but not many could describe. Besides, you had larger dreams back then. You were a dancer; started when you were young. The stage was where you felt the most at home. So, it was just a secret crush for you; you never thought you would ever stand beside him.Â
Until you return home for summer vacation after graduating from the conservatory and encounter Caleb in a wreck.
That night, he was drunk, walking erratically, crossing the street without looking at the traffic lights. A car sped towards him, and you, worried and following close behind, pushed him out of the way, getting hit by the car yourself.
You thought you had done good for yourself up to that point, successfully completing your dance studies and hoping to get a position in one of the large dance companies in the city.
The accident left you with a serious limp. You'd never be able to dance again.
Shortly after, he swore off drinking and married you.
He was forever guilty, forever grateful, forever soft-spoken, and forever showered you with gifts and money. Yet at the same time, forever indifferent. The only thing he couldn't give you was love.
In the beginning, you naively thought that time could heal all wounds, dilute all the pain. But you never could have imagined that five years later, he would still remember the name "pipsqueak" so vividly, calling out to her when he is serving himself. In the end, you were simply too foolishâŚ
When Caleb gets up for his Colonel duties, you still pretend to be asleep. You hear him talking to the housekeeper outside: "I have a company dinner tonight. Tell my wife not to wait for me and to go to bed early." After giving the instructions, he comes back into the room to check on you again. You hide under the covers, your pillow soaked with tears. Usually, when he goes to any of the Farspace Fleet galas, you would prepare his outfit in advance.
But not tonight. He goes to the dressing room to change himself and heads to work. You open your eyes, feeling them swell uncomfortably.
Your phone alarm rings. It's the time you set for yourself to get up and study.
Because of your leg injury, since getting married, you spend most of your time at home, rarely going out. You divide your day into blocks, finding something to occupy your time. You pick up your phone, turn off the alarm and start scrolling aimlessly through various apps. Your mind is a jumbled mess, unable to absorb anything. Until, you suddenly come across a video on a certain social media platform.
The person in the video looks so familiar⌠The account name: Pips_apple. The posting time was last night.
You click on the video, and immediately, upbeat music starts playing, followed by someone shouting: One, two, three, welcome back Pipsqueak! Cheers! It's Caleb's voice. He broke his vow of abstinence from alcohol. He's even a little drunk.
But would Caleb really shout like that? The Caleb you remember from high school was a friendly, but aloof academic genius. Not only was he serious when doing course work, but even more so on the sports field; he paid no attention to any of the girls who offered him water bottles and love letters. Later, the Caleb who became your husband was even more polite, his emotions so stable they were almost unwavering. He never smiled, never got angry. He was always detached, so detached that when you occasionally touched his fingers, even his body temperature was cold.
The camera pans across everyone's faces in the video. You see a slightly tipsy Caleb, his eyes sparkling, raising his glass and laughing loudly at the camera: "Welcome home, Pips!"
So, he could smile after all. He could be passionate too. He would call girls by their nicknames. Just not you.Â
You close the app immediately, struggling to catch your breath. You open your email, and read the acceptance letter on your phone over and over again, at least a hundred times.
A graduate school offer from a foreign university, the thing you originally planned to discuss with him last night. You wanted to study abroad for a master's degree; was that okay? But now it seems there is no need to discuss it with him. Five years of marriage, countless sleepless nights. You needed to get out. If you didn't find something to do with your life now that MC is back, how would you pass the long hours? Would you spend your whole life waiting for Caleb to come home?
You had already waited for too long. The pain of waiting... is unbearable now. Today marks the countdown to you leaving him.
T - 29 days Today your plans are a little different than the usual.
Your offer was likely part of the program's last round of admissions, so you wanted to confirm it as soon as possible. The first item on your agenda is to pay the confirmation fee to the school. You breathe a sigh of relief as your phone lights up with the notification from your bank card deduction.
In the evening, you change your clothes and prepare to go out. Your housekeeper, Mrs. Chen, is surprised. "Madam, where are you going?" Without Caleb's company, you seldom leave the house.
"Oh, friend of mine is performing at the theatre tonight and asked me to meet them," you say. Actually, you were going to stay in a hotel in the city. You have an interview tomorrow morning with an alumni of the program in the area. You were worried about traffic and not making it on time.
âButâŚâ Mrs. Chen looks at your leg, âShall I go with you?â âNo need, itâs a get-together with my girlfriends.â Your expression remains unchanged. âThen Iâll inform the Colonel.â Mrs. Chen is uneasy, genuinely afraid something might happen to you, and didnât want to take responsibility for whatever goes down. âNo need, donât disturb him. Iâll call him after and have him pick me up.âÂ
As you step out into the street, you instinctively lower your head and hunch your shoulders, hiding your face into the collar of your coat. Since injuring your leg, the confident and vibrant you on stage has disappeared.Â
Mrs. Chen always said that it was best if your husband goes out with you. Caleb always said that you should stay home if he isn't with you. Neither of them knew. The only thing you were afraid of more than going out alone was going out with Caleb. Because everyone who sees you looks at you with the same question: "How did someone like him marry a girl like that?"
T - 28 days Your interview goes surprisingly smoothly. After slowly wandering around Linkon City alone for the first time in many years, you hail a taxi and head home. In the car, you silently gaze at the lights outside the window, when suddenly, you see Caleb's car parked on the side of the street.
"Wait, please stop for a moment," you quickly call to the driver. Caleb's car is parked in front of a restaurant. Yesterday before leaving for work, Caleb had casually mentioned that it was his turn to treat his friend group to dinner.
You get out of the car as if possessed.
Upon arriving, you tell the server at the front, "reservation under Mr. Xia," and give them the the last four digits of Caleb's phone number. The waiter leads you to a private room. "Thank you," you say, hesitating in front of the door. From outside, you can hear lively voices.
"I need to get home early today, I got home drunk last night and my wife was furious at me!" "Come on~ Are we still tight? Who's the one that used to always toot "bros before hoes"? Now you're henpecked? Sounds like Caleb's the only real one left!" MC jokes, her voice cheery and light.
So this is the kind of person she was. This is the kind of personality that Caleb likes. Unfortunately, you are far from it; you couldn't even pretend to be if you tried.Â
Inside, Caleb's friend continues, "How can Caleb be the same as me? Y/NÂ wouldn't dare raise her voice at him!" "Hey, by the way," MC's soft voice rings out again, "Caleb, I heard your wife is disabled? Why?"
No one answers MC's question. Your heart clenches.
Caleb's group of friends start talking amongst themselves. "Seriously, Caleb, we feel sorry for you. Look at you, you have money, power, you're handsome, a real catch. What kind of woman couldn't you marry? Why did you have to marry a cripple?" "Honestly, dude, you're the most outstanding among us. Now that you've married Y/N, whether you're at a meeting, a social event, a press conference, or any other occasion that requires a partner, you can't even take her out. Don't you think you're losing out?"
So that's how it isâŚ
Caleb always said he didn't need you to get involved in his affairs; he was more than happy to provide for you. Everyone praised you for living a life of luxury, but as it turns out, it is simply because he doesn't think you are presentable enough.
A bitter laugh comes from Caleb. âShe was so kind to me after all; I owe her.â âYou owe her? You've given her so much; you've paid it back ten-fold by now!â âExactly! You should have just given her a lump sum back then. Was it necessary to jeopardize the happiness of the rest of your life?â âI'm telling you, you should really think about it. What can she do for you? She's useless at social events, and you'd even have to worry about her spilling water at home. "Caleb~ have some water" like this? Like this?" A burst of laughter erupts from the room, mixed with MC's exaggerated gasp. "Caleb! Does your wife really walk like that?"
You feel all the blood rush to your head as the anger and humiliation tips you off balance. You force the door open and are immediately met with a roar of laughter.
T - 27 days One of Caleb's friends, Gideon, carries a cup of water in both hands, walking with an exaggerated limp, and calling out in a high-pitched voice, "Caleb, Caleb, have some water, Caleb, ahâI fell down, Caleb, hug meâ" The mocking performance is a hit. MC, sitting next to Caleb, leans on his shoulder as she shakes from laughter.Â
You turn to look at your husband, hoping that the person you loved most would show some sort of reaction. Caleb, however, remains completely silent. Gideon turns around with a triumphant smile, "How does that sound, Cale-" Before he could finish the question, he sees you standing in the doorway, and his smile freezing. "Y/N..."
Everyone looks towards the door. They are stunned.
MC quickly removes herself from Caleb's shoulder, smiling as she reaches out her hand. "Ah! This must be Caleb's legendary wife! Please come in, I'm Caleb's childhood friend."
You look at everyone in the private room, heart turning cold.
Caleb finally stands up and walks towards you. "Y/N, what brings you here? They were just joking, don't take it to heart." You stare at the man in front of you, feeling utterly unfamiliar with him, more unfamiliar than ever before. He calls this joking? So he's actually siding with them?
"Yes, sister-in-law... sister-in-law! I'm sorry, I was just joking, don't be angry," Gideon apologized, putting down his cup.
Caleb walks up, intending to put his arm around you. You suddenly remember MC laughing on his shoulder, his hands pleasuring himself in the bathroom, him calling out "Pipsqueak" as he came, and suddenly the thought of his hands on you is utterly filthy. You dodge his arm. âY/N,â Caleb looks at his empty hands in surprise and sighs. âI apologize on their behalf. Donât be angry, okay? Iâll bring you something when we get back; whatever you want.â
MC glares at Gideon playfully. âGo on, apologize! You've made the Colonel's wife angry! Do you think everyone is like me, clumsy and clueless, letting you joke around like that?â Gideon immediately gets defensive. âI already apologized! I didnât know she'd suddenly appear out of thin air; I was just joking.â âA joke is only a joke if the person it is about finds it funny.â You summon all your courage to spit out the words.Â
"Alright, that's enough," Caleb puts himself between you and Gideon. "Y/N," Caleb's gaze is as calm as ever, "They mean no harm; they were just joking. For my sake, forgive them. Shall I have the driver take you home?"
"Sister-in-law..." MC pouts as she stands beside him, "If you're really angry, be angry with me. Don't ignore your husband. They only organized today's gathering because I came back... Caleb, why don't you ask your wife to stay for dinner? I'll offer her a toast as an apology." "Sorry," you look at the two of them with a scorning smile. "I don't drink alcohol, especially not this tea-flavored liquor."
Caleb's expression turns serious. "Y/N, MC was trying to make it up to you, why are you so sharp-tongued?" Make it up to you? Only a fool would think so. Is Caleb a fool? No, he isn't. He is simply biased; whichever side his heart leans towards is right.
You look at the two people in front of you, and the several people behind them. They were all on the same side, while you are just an outsider who had intruded into their world. No, in fact, you've never truly entered their world; not even the periphery.
You struggle to hold back tears, letting out a soft "heh," before turning to leave. Behind you, MC's voice calls worryingly, "Caleb, your wife!" "It's alright, she's very understanding. I'll go comfort her when I go back." He sneaks a glance at your retreating figure and texts the driver to pick you up.Â
You wipe away your tears forcefully, gait getting more unsteady. Surely, they'll continue to laugh at you after you left, right? You are crippled; you aren't good enough for Caleb Xia. This realization had haunted you like a curse for the past five years.Â
By the time Caleb's driver arrives, you are no longer by the restaurant. Caleb frowned at the text from the chauffer. He calls you, but you didn't answer. He tries again, but your phone is switched off now. His buddies speak up more. "Caleb, how did you manage to spoil such a girl? With your status and appearance? There's women willing to grovel at feet! You're too good natured, letting your wife give you the cold shoulder." Caleb doesn't say anything. "Marrying her is already a huge blessing! Who else would want her if not you?" MC quickly interjects at just the right second. "Gege, don't listen to everyone saying bad things about Y/N. They're just want the best for you. Don't take it to heart!" "I'm not angry," Caleb puts away his phone. "It's alright, she won't go anywhere."
After all, for the past five years, you really haven't been anywhere except stay at home; you had nowhere to go.
T - 26 days You don't go home. You check back into the hotel you stayed at the previous day. All the grievances and pain erupt the moment the hotel room door closes. The image of Gideon limping, mocking you, kept flashing before your eyes, the laughter echoing in your ears like a curse.
Actually, you already know what Caleb's peers say about you in private, just never mentioned it to him before. They were his ride-or-die colleagues, you understood. He worked very hard for the safety of Linkon City; you understood. Therefore, you didn't want to cause him any trouble or fallouts with his friends and coworkers
But now it seems that you were overthinking things.
How could he have a falling out with his friends because of you? Those were his brothers since his DAA days! And you? Merely a debt he owed to himself as repayment for gratitude; a burden. Without you, his life would be happier.
"She's just a cripple! Who would want her if you didn't marry her?" "What more could she ask for than marrying someone like Caleb?" "If I were the Colonel, I'd rather be the one crippled by a car accident than marry someone like that."
Your heart and lungs ache terribly.
With trembling hands, you open a photo album on your phone you haven't dared touch in five yearsâa record of your training and performances during your undergraduate years. Since you could no longer perform on stage, you sealed all your dance-related photos and videos here, password protected, and never opened them again. Now, your trembling fingers randomly click on a video. Perfectly in time with the music, you twirl, leap, and land lightly on your feet Back then, you were radiant, graceful, and received thunderous applauseâŚ
So, was saving him a mistake?
Honestly, the moment you pushed Caleb out of the way, you never thought of marrying him. He was the one who said he wanted to marry you and planned a grand proposal, knelt before you with a huge diamond ring, and gave you hopeâŚ
For the first time in five years, you collapse onto the bed and sob uncontrollably. You cry for a long time
So long that no more tears flow from your eyes, leaving only pain in your chest, burning and licking like flames. Yet the more it hurt, the clearer you became about your situation.
You go the bathroom and wash your face thoroughly to calm down. Looking at your lifeless reflection in the mirror, you silently tell yourself, "Crying once is enough. Don't cry anymore. Now please take care of yourself for once."
T - 25 days Perhaps because you didn't sleep a wink the night before out of nervousness for your interview, you actually sleep quite well today. You wake up on time and turn on your phone.
Countless messages flood in all from one personâCaleb.
Walking alone on the sidewalk, head down, you review the student visa application process until a pair of leather shoes appear in front of you. You didn't expect someone to deliberately block your path, and bump into them.
If the person didn't catch you, you definitely would've fallen. Unfortunately, that person is the last one you wanted to see. Caleb.
"Y/N!" You can tell he is angry, but trying his best to speak in a controlled manner. âY/N, why didnât you come home?â He holds your shoulders, voice softening as gentle and tender as ever.
You should know why Iâm not going home, you think, hurriedly stuffing the notes you took from your interview back into your bag, fastening it tightly. âWhatâs this?â he asks, looking down at your bag. âNothing, just some paper.â You feign composure, fingers gripping the bag so tightly they turn white. âGive it to me,â he offers. No, you can't let him see them. You clutch the strap tighter. "Do you need something?" "Give me your phone," he demands. You hesitate for a moment, then take your phone out and hand it to him. The phone is off. He glances at it only once before handing it back. "I called you so many times and sent you so many messages. Why didn't you reply? Are you still angry?"
You breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't asking where you were the night before. If it's only about that⌠You stay silent for a moment, and decide you didn't want to be angry anymore. You just want to get away. Seeing your silence, Caleb assumes you're still angry and sighs. âY/N, you're supposed to be the understanding one. Why didn't you come home?â
You swear you didn't want to get worked up about it anymore, but Caleb's words are somehow innocent yet cruel enough to break even a saint. âSo you still think what happened yesterday was my fault? Was I being unreasonable? Should I have praised Gideon for such an accurate depiction as soon as I went in?!â You couldn't take it anymore.
Caleb's face slightly twitches in embarrassment. âThatâs not what I meant. What I meant was, you canât control what others say, so just manage your own reaction and pay them no mind.â âI canât control it, but you can!â you shoot back. âBut what were you doing then? You and your pipsqueak, hugging and all over each other.â âY/N!" His expression finally changes into something that resembles anger, more intense than anything you've seen. You laugh inwardly.
The name âpipsqueakâ is his Achillesâ heel, an untouchable minefield. You have nothing else to say. You clutch your bag, planning to walk past him, but he reaches out and pulls you close by the waist. âIâm sorry, it's my fault. I raised my voice just now,â he says softly. âI just didnât want you to misunderstand MC. Weâre just ordinary friends, like everyone else. I treat her like my sister. Sheâs not married yet. Don't talk about her like that.â
You don't understand. They were the ones acting like that, MC brushing up against him so brazenly; why is he so afraid to admit it?Â
"Oh," you reply monotonously. âY/NâŚâ Caleb can sense the coldness in your voice. âWhy are you still angry? I haven't even confronted you about going to a hotel by yourself without telling anyone, about not reply to any of my messages and calls. Yes, it's all your fault. You're the unreasonable one here.Â
Earlier in your marriage, hearing this from Caleb would have been your worst nightmare. But now? You don't intend on striving to be good enough for him anymore.
T - 24 days Caleb insists on taking you out to eat to "smooth things over". âCaleb, Iâm not hungry.â You don't touch your chopsticks. âI have something to tell you.â âWhat?â He smiles slightly. âIâll go with you wherever you want. Iâm free all day.â You stare at his almost imperceptible smile, thinking hard about what you can say to those dreamy, purple eyes.
"Caleb..." your throat closes up, betraying your resolve. âHmm? Y/N?â He takes your hand. âWhatâs wrong? Want to cry? If you want to cry, just cry. Donât hold it in.â His voice is so gentle, so incredibly gentle.
Just like back then, when you first emerged from the operating room, the nurses wheeled you back to the floor. He stood by your bedside, his voice so gentle it was almost painful, saying, "Y/N, does it hurt? If it hurts, cry it out, don't hold it in..." Back then, you thought such gentle care was a good remedy for pain. Unfortunately, it took you many years to truly understand that a man's gentleness and care could never be transformed into love...
"Caleb, let's get a divorce," you say softly, pulling your hand away. He frowns; clearly, he didn't expect you to say that. After a brief silence, he picks up a piece of fish, and gently removes the bones with his chopsticks, putting it in your bowl. "Y/N, I know you're still angry, but bringing up divorce is irrational. What will you do if you divorce me? How will you live on your own?"
T - 23Â days: Your breathing quickens
In everyone's eyes, for the last five years, you've been Caleb's dependent; without him, you were a pitiful creature, unwanted and unable to survive. He thought so too. "I can do it!" For the first time, you speak up against him, wanting to stand up for yourself.
He just smiles, still assuming you are being stubborn, and places the deboned fish in front of you. "Eat. You're allowed to be angry for a while, but you can't be angry until after you finish eating." "I'm not angry, I really want a divorce!" How can you make Caleb understand that you mentioning divorce isn't just an emotional outburst?
âY/N.â he puts down his chopsticks, âI canceled two meetings and a practice flight today just to come and spend time with you. I might not have that much time tomorrow or the day after. Let me say it again, MC is a good friend. I treat her no differently than I treat Gideon and the others. She also likes you a lot and has always wanted to be your friend. With your attitude⌠how can I bring her to you?â âThen thereâs no need for us to get close.â You don't think MC actually wants to be friends with you. âY/N!â Caleb's voice carries a hint of warning.
You focus on eating instead. Even if you were angry, it's not worth taking your anger out on your own stomach. "That's right," Caleb's tone softens again. "Don't mention the word 'divorce' again." You pause, then continue eating with your head down. The next day, you book a physical therapy appointment at AKSO Hospital.
T - 22 days You need to get used to going out alone, so you decide to do some window shopping. Wandering aimlessly through Universum, you spot a familiar figure at a designer jewelry store â MC. Looking at the store name, a feeling of unease settles over you as you unconsciously walk closer.
âBuy it if you like it!â comes her friend's voice. âI can't do that, Tara!" MC exclaims, "It's too expensive. Even though Caleb gave me his card and told me to use it as I please, I feel awkward buying such an expensive item!â
Your steps falter, too heavy to take another step.
âSince he gave it to you, itâs for you to use. When has your brother ever used pleasantries with you He's probably over the moon that you're willing to spend his money.â Tara replies. âThatâs trueâŚâ MC twirls, showing Tara the necklace she tried on at different angles. You see it too. âIsnât it beautiful, Tara? I really, really love this necklace! I liked it back in high school, and Caleb promised to buy it for me after graduation, but..."
But?
You laugh bitterly at the irony. But instead, Caleb gives you this necklace every year for your birthday and anniversary. Originally, you had thought that even if Caleb was heartless, at least he remembered your birthday and your anniversary; even if the gift he chose wasnât thoughtful, it would at least be expensive.
But it turns out he isnât heartless, nor is he indifferent; on the contrary, he is incredibly thoughtful and devoted. Itâs just that what he holds dear has nothing to do with you.
T - 21 days You try to talk about the divorce with Caleb again, this time taking the initiative to meet  him as he gets off work. You walk into the grand foyer of the Farspace Fleet HQ, preparing to text and let him know you're here, when you hear his voice. "And that concludes your orientation tour."
You slowly turn to see Caleb, his adjutant, Liam, and MC walk out of the elevator. You wait until they make their way closer to the front door to approach the group. "It's been a pleasure showing you around," Liam adds, saluting to MC, "I look forward to working with you, Mrs. Xia". You nearly choke on your breath, face red and still sputtering as you appear in front of Caleb. Liam looks at you with confusion. "I'm sorry, and you are...?" Caleb's face morphs from surprise to horror, and you see the message behind his furrowed brows and pleading eyes: "don't say anything"
You remember the sneers, the joking, the pity.
"I'm a good friend of the Colonel," you say. "In fact, we have a dinner appointment tonight." Caleb nods vigorously in agreement, quickly dismissing Liam as you, Caleb, and MC walk towards the parking garage.Â
When you arrive at Caleb's car, MC doesnât move, smiling sweetly. âOkay, Gege, you guys go home. Iâll take a taxi myself. Y/N, Iâll return Mr. Xia back to you.â
Back to you? What does she mean, back to you? When did you ever agree to lend your husband out?
She takes the opportunity to cling to your arm, shaking it sweetly. âY/N, donât be angry. Todayâs misunderstanding wasnât intentional. Liam just assumed things because Caleb has never personally brought a cadet around before. I didn't have time to explain the situation." Her eyes subconsciously flick to your leg before she continues. âYou wonât be angry with us, right?â âUs?â you sneer. âWho is this âusâ? Who exactly is with whom?â You hate strangers getting close to you â especially her. You pull your arm away. You swear you only pull back lightly. You donât shove her. You absolutely do not push her. Yet she falls to the ground. âY/N!!â Caleb shouts your name.
MC reacts faster than both of you. She scrambles up and blocks Caleb completely â pressing herself against him. âCaleb, donât be angry. Donât blame Y/N, Iâm just careless. She just gently touched me and I lost balance myself. Gege, please don't get angry at your wife because of me, itâll make me sadâŚâ Only Caleb believes this act. Especially when she deliberately raises her wrist â the scraped skin clearly visible â right in front of him, the glint of the necklace she bought yesterday, the same as yours piercing your eyes. Caleb sees the scrape. His brows knit together, eyes filled with obvious concern.
âY/N! Whatâs wrong with you? Why are you so prejudiced against her?â âMe? Prejudiced against her?â you laugh. âWhat prejudice could I possibly have? After all, sheâs Mrs. Xia now.â âYouââ He is momentarily speechless before lowering his gaze to MC. âDoes it hurt?â âNoâŚâ she whimpers, yet she lifts her wrist closer to his chin. He actually lowers his head and gently blows on it.
You have never seen him look at you like that.
âIâll put some medicine on it later. We canât let it scar.â Not even after your car accident. Not when you lose your leg. Not when your body is covered in scars. Back then, he gently asked you, âDoes it hurt? If it does, cry.â But that wasn't heartache. It was guilt. He never caressed your wounds. When faced with your scars, he escapes. He avoids. He refuses to look at them.
âItâs okay, I'm really alright!â MCâs voice grows even softer âY/N,â Caleb calls, looking up at you. âArenât you going to apologize?â âWhy should I apologize?â A sharp sting rushes into your eyes, blurring your vision. You can barely see his face anymore. âBecause she calls herself my husbandâs wife, I have to apologize?â âY/N! Why are being sarcastic? Didnât she explain? Liam simply misunderstood. Why are you holding onto this?â
He is angry again. He always is, whenever you speak up against her. You smile and shake your head. âNo, Caleb. Youâre wrong. I donât want to hold onto this at all. I didnât even expose you two on the spot. Whoever wants to be Mrs. Xia can take the position. I already told you I want a divorce. You should just agree. Then everything becomes perfectly legitimate.â You donât expose them because thereâs no need. Since you are going to divorce him anyway, why add more trouble to your life? It isnât worth it.
âYour temper is getting more and more outrageous!â he snaps. âThereâs a limit to throwing tantrums! Apologize right now!â âI wonât.â You turn to leave. âStop!â He rushes forward and grabs your wrist. âWhere are you going? You pushed her. Her arm is hurt. You're not leaving without saying sorry."
You stare at the hand gripping you. Despair crashes over you like a tidal wave. You look into his eyes and say, slowly, clearly, word by word: âYes. All I have to deal with is being a cripple for the rest of my life. But oh no, she scratched her armâ
A flash of sharp pain crosses his eyes. He loosens his grip and steps back. The moment you are free, you turn and run toward the elevator. No matter how disheveled you look, you donât care. You absolutely cannot let him see the tears streaming down your face. From the day you were injured, through your wedding and five years of marriage... This is the first time you use your injured leg to hurt him.
Before, you were so careful about protecting his feelings. You were afraid he felt guilt and remorse, so you never mention the accident five years ago. Even when you had to endure gossip and cold stares, you swallowed everything alone. But now, is he in pain too? You can honestly understand to a certain degree.
He is doomed to carry the burden of you for the rest of his life, unable to shake himself free. How can he not be? His true love is right beside him, yet because of your existence, he can't even be with her openly. How can he not be in pain when the urge to let go is pitted against the torment of his conscience?Â
So, Caleb, please let me go, okay?
T - 20 days You return home alone and lay your ten jewelry boxes out in front of you. You stare at the necklaces for a long time, lost in thought. For a moment, you want to smash each one against the wall. But you don't. Impulse solves nothing.
After calming down, you download a secondhand resale app and start looking for sellers who buy luxury goods. You quickly find one in the city and arrange to drop them off tomorrow. Having dealt with this, you turn on your computer and begin focusing intently on your visa application.
You have less than three weeks until you escape your personal hell.
T - 19 days You are so engrossed in your work that you don't even notice Caleb's return.You hurriedly close your laptop when you hear "What are you doing?" coming from the doorway.
Caleb returns, maintaining his usual gentle demeanor, as if nothing happened. He walks to your side and asks in a soft voice, "Watching a show? Studying? What's got you so hooked that you're still up?" He's trying to make conversation.
You press your hand tightly against the laptop; the VISA webpage is still open. "You wouldn't care for it" "I don't even know what it is? Here, let me see. You asked me to tutor you back in high school." He reaches out to try to pry the screen up but you hold on tightly, refusing to let go. He assumes you're still angry, so he stops trying to take it from you. Instead, he sighs and squats down, staring at your profile. "Still angry?"
"No." You're not lying. You've had many feelings: anxiety, disappointment, despair, but definitely not anger. Anger meant that as long as he coaxed you, things would be fine; there was still hope for your marriage. But for you, any last drop hope had already evaporated. Five years⌠that was enough.
âY/N, MC and I really have nothing going on. We're just close childhood friends. She came back from abroad, and we all got together to welcome her. The misunderstanding at work today was purely accidental. You have to believe me.â His voice grows increasingly sweet. You look into his eyes, unable to see the passion behind the soft words. Gentleness is like a program written into his body, running on autopilot.
âCalebâ you finally say, âArenât you tired?â He's taken aback, seemingly not understanding what you mean. You give him a bitter smile. "You have someone else in your heart, yet you still fuss over me every day. Aren't you tired?" Caleb's eyes widen. "I don't..." "Caleb, stop lying to yourself! I know some things don't sound so honorable when brought up; it'll make everyone look bad. But actually, divorce is better for both of us. Really. MC is more like the Mrs. Xia you envision yourself with-" "Y/N!" Caleb interrupts you. "Are you still holding onto MC? I've told you so many times." "Caleb, the one who can't get over MC isn't me." You stare at him straight in the eyes. "It's you." He freezes again. "Y/N..." "We both know it, isn't that right?" You try to appear calm. You can't have him think you're just "throwing a tantrum". "It's time to put an end to our five years together, Caleb. Let's say goodbye gracefully. Let bygones be bygones."
Caleb stares at you for a while, then stands up. "Y/N, you're overthinking it. You'll see later that MC's return won't change anything. It's late, get some rest." "Caleb Xia! I know you feel guilty towards me, but not anymore. I really don't need a marriage based on guilt. Let me go, and let yourself go too, okay?" Before you even finish your sentence, Caleb takes off his coat and heads into the bathroom.Â
You look at his coat lying on the small sofa. In the past, you would've hung it up for him, then found his pajamas and put them by the bathroom door. But this time, you don't move. For the past five years, you had always thought that your legs were weak and that you couldn't contribute anything to your family. In fact, Caleb managed everything perfectly, making you feel like a mere decoration, unable to help him in any way. Yet, you still tried your best to take care of him when you could.
Honestly? You might have overlooked the core: perhaps what Caleb needed wasn't your insignificant care, but a presentable Mrs. Xia, someone who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him in front of the world. So you truly don't understand what he's clinging onto, why he refuses to divorce you after all thisâŚ
Caleb comes out of the bathroom and goes straight to sleep, seemingly refusing to speak further. You don't bring it up again. Forget it, every conversation is exhausting for you anyways. You're better off using that time to think about your future, strive towards what you have always wanted, and when you could leave. Whether or not the divorce is finalized by then won't matter. You glance at Caleb beside you; he's already fast asleep.
In the dim light, you can only see a blurry profile of his face. The distance between the two of you seems endless. Caleb, I've decided not to blame you anymore. I hope you have a happy life after I'm gone.
T - 18 days You wake up feeling refreshed. As you finish getting ready and make your way down the stairs, you see the look of shock in the housekeeper's eyes.
You're wearing makeup today, and in your favorite dress. For five years, you barely dressed up. Your leg, covered in scars, not only restricted your movement, but also your self worth and yearning for beauty. You didn't think you were worth dressing up. âVery beautiful, Madam,â Mrs. Chen's admiring gaze doesn't lie. âWhere are you going?â âThe theatre.â You shift your weight, a little nervous despite the excitement coursing through your veins. You even wore stockings so that the scars on your leg wouldn't be as visible. After settling your feelings, you decide to buy a ticket to see a ballet performance. The only thing you wanted to see at the moment, the only thing you knew would comfort you was dance.
You take a deep breath as you sink into the plush velvet seat in the dress circle. From your elevated view, you can almost feel the warmth of the stage lights and the buzz of adrenaline behind the colossal curtains, your heartbeat quickening as it gets closer to curtain call. "Y/N?" You nearly jump as you hear your name, looking wildly around to meet a pair of sea-blue eyes. "R-rafayel?" You squint as the name comes off your tongue slightly unfamiliarly. It's been nearly 10 years since you saw this old classmate of yours, but the tuft of dark purple hair gives him away. The two of you were never in same homeroom back in high school, but his name was very famous among the art students.Â
"It's been such a long time, how have you been?" He smiles and offers you a hand. Your brain short circuits for a moment, not quite sure how to answer. "My apologies," he quickly follows up his words. "I remember you were a performing arts student, and followed your career briefly after graduation. I know you stopped dancing and got married, married to the man that you saved." You're even more stunned now. But before you have a chance to formulate a reply, the lights cut out, signifying the opening of the show.Â
Tonight's performance is by the Linkin City ballet, performing a classical piece that you've rehearsed countless times in the past. As the orchestra strikes the first chord, the dancer deep within you is awakened. Even though you're sitting in the audience with a real possibility you'll never be on stage again, your toes subconsciously tap lightly on the ground to the beat of the musicâit's muscle memory etched into your bodyâŚ
At the end of the performance, you can't help the tears spilling from your eyes. Sitting in the audience, listening to the thunderous applause, watching audience members go up one after another to present flowers to the dancers... Not because of sadness, not because of pain, and certainly not because of despair. But because of the dance itself, and the resonance you felt in your heart. This was once your passion and your deepest love. But you had forgotten it for five years. You log onto your empty social media account for the first time in years, and simply post: Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest love.Â
After the curtains fall for the final time, you turn to Rafayel, still gently clapping beside you. "I've been unhappy since I quit dancing," you admit, gaze flickering at your bad leg. "But I've had enough of moping around and feeling sorry for myself." You wipe away any remaining moisture off your face. "Sorry, this just reminded me of how happy dancing made me feel. I'll be going abroad soon to get a masters." You swear Rafayel's eyes light up slightly in the dim concert hall as he gives you a smile. "Y/N, Little Swallow, I believe you will soar high, even if your wings were once broken." Back in high school, your nickname was Little Swallow, because you were best known for your somersaults and leaps; high and graceful. Hearing the name again after so many years has your heart racing again, as if you are back in your youth, sweating profusely in the practice room.
A bundle is placed into your hands. You look down to see a bouquet of flowers, something Rafayel originally brought for one the dancers, probably. Rafayel simply pats your head. "It's not shameful to have a leg injury, it's not shameful to have scars on your legs. What's shameful are those who laugh at you; they are the truly despicable ones! Kind people will only cheer you on." He turns away, but not before calling out, "Let's keep in touch! I'll be in the same city as your program for my next artist retreat. Let me know if I can help with anything." He emphasizes again, "Anything!"
You stand there, watching him disappear into the distance. This is the first time someone has told you: your disability isn't shameful; what's shameful are those who mock you. Words you've wanted to hear for nearly 2000 days, but never had spoken to you. Tonight, it brings you a fresh wave of tears.Â
T - 17 days You didn't think Caleb would be back after everything going on these days, but the sound of the door opening wakes you up from sleep.Â
Caleb stinks of alcohol when he enters the room. He's been drinking again. How much did he have to drink? He throws a chair against the door and collapses directly onto the bed. You don't have anything to say to him anymore, whether it's to scold him to drink less or coax him to take a shower. You get up, intending to sleep in the guest room. Just as you reach the door, Caleb's voice sounds behind you. "Where are you going?"
You don't answer.
The bed creaks behind you. Caleb gets slams the door in front of you closed and grabs your wrist. "Where are you going if you're not sleeping here?" "I'm going to the guest room, let go of me." You can't really argue with a drunkard. The more you struggle, the tighter he grips your hands. "Stop fooling around, Y/N. What's the point? Since you've apologized, I'll make it up to you" his voice slurs.
You're dumbfounded??? What the hell is he referring to? "When did I apologize?" You haven't even seen him, let alone apologize to him? Caleb chuckles softly, mumbling, "Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest? I'm back."
You scoff, wait, this guy actually thought you posted that for him?Â
âY/Nâ He suddenly hugs you. âI know, I know you love me. You'd give everything for me, so no matter what happens, I will never betray youâŚâ You are stunned for a moment. He's right. You've loved him very, very much. He had said these words at your wedding. At that time, you thought it wasn't a confession, but a promise. He had given you a promise for a lifetime. A lifetime is so long. Long enough that you thought one day he would fall in love with you properly. Even if he never loved you, it didn't matter; you thought your love for him would be enoughâŚ
âCaleb Xia.â You have something you want to ask him. âHmm?â His warm breath brushes against your ear, spreading out, carrying the scent of alcohol. "But your Pipsqueak is back! What will happen to Pips if you're with me?" "Pipsqueak? Pipsqueak..." He murmured the name, suddenly choking back tears. "Pipsqueak, I won't forget. I promised you, I won't forget..."
You feel as if you just got dunked in ice water. Is he so drunk that he's mistaking you for MC? "What promise? What did you promise Pipsqueak?" you ask numbly. "Everything... Everything, Pips..." His arms tighten around you.
You gasp as he suddenly lifts you up and pushes you down on the bed, his breath, heavy with the smell of alcohol, glosses over your face, nose, and chin... He tries to find your lips, but you avoid them. The smell of alcohol makes you nauseous. When his hands begin to tear at your pajamas, you immediately turn away. "Pips, be good, okay? Stop making a fuss..."
Still calling you Pipsqueak...
You struggle fiercely, finally freeing a hand and slapping him hard across the face. A crisp sound rings out in the bedroom "Caleb! Look carefully at who I am! I'm not your Pipsqueak!" you shout in the darkness, your voice hoarse. His body stiffens briefly. Taking advantage of the moment, you forcefully wriggle out of his grasp. He lies on the bed, still drunk, murmuring, "Pips, I'm sorry, I have to go home. I promised her I'd take care of her for the rest of my life... I owe her..." You cover your ears. Those words have haunted you like a curse for five years; now, whenever they echo in your mind, your head buzzes as if filled with static.
You scream at the figure beside you, "I don't want you to owe me anything! Caleb Xia! Do you hear me!? I don't want you to owe me anything! I just want you to set me free!"
Caleb's phone vibrates at that moment. You turn your head to see the name of the person calling: "Baby Apple." Ha, Baby Apple⌠In Caleb's phone, your contact is "Y/N" When you were newlyweds, you had fantasized about the day Caleb would call you "sweetie," "darling," or any other nickname that was exclusively yours, or even just "Wife." But no, whether in everyday conversations or in his contacts, it was always just "Y/N". To reassure yourself, you convinced yourself that this was just his personalityânot clingy, straightforward, and with a strong personality. You were wrong. The words "Baby Apple" on the screen are particularly glaring. You're torn between picking up or letting it ring, but you click on the green receiver anyway.
A soft, delicate voice makes your hand tremble. "Gege, are you home yet? Are you alright?" MC sounds drunk too, her voice slurred and incoherent. Ignoring the silence on your end, she continues. "I know it's hard for you... I also... know that Y/N has sacrificed a lot for you... You don't need to feel guilty towards me... I... we're fine like this now... I don't care whether I'm your wife or not... I just... just glad that you remember me and treat me the same as before... let's stay like this Caleb... She can live in your house, and I can live in your heart, I'm content..."
The phone finally slips and fell to the ground. She lives in your house, I live in your heart. You stagger out of the room and go to the guest room. You collapse on the bed, trying to squeeze all the sounds out of your head. You never want to think about this again.
T - 16 days When you wake up, it's Caleb's voice that you hear. He's talking to Mrs. Chen. "Where did these flowers come from?" "Madam brought them back last night." "Madam went out last night?" "Yes." "Alone? Where did she go?" Caleb's voice rises noticeably. "She said she went to see a performance." "A performance? Who sent the flowers?" He seemed unconvinced. "I don't know." "What performance? Where did she see it? What time was it?" Mrs. Chen hesitates. "Sir, I really don't know."
The guest room door is pushed open. You immediately pretend to be asleep. "Y/N, I know you're awake; your hand just moved." You open your eyes, internally sighing.
"Who did you go to see the performance with yesterday?" Why is he so fixated on this question?
You don't answer him, simply pulling the covers over your head and turn your back to face him. âY/N,â He sits down, âBe good, okay?â He reaches out to dig you out from under the comforter. You remember him pinning you down on the bed last night, calling MC's name and telling her to be good. You feel utterly disgusted and forcefully slap his hand away.
He gives up, then suddenly changes the subject, "Y/N, what was the "passions and loves" you mentioned last night?" "It wasn't you!" you huff. His face stiffens for a moment, but it quickly turns into a knowing look. "Alright, stop being stubborn. I know you're still sulking and jealous. Didn't I come back as soon as I saw you post that yesterday?"
He seriously still thinks you're just throwing a tantrum when you said "not you"? You poke your head out from under the covers. "I told you..." Seeing you finally come out, his expression softens as he takes the opportunity to stroke your hair. "That's good. I'll be back tonight, but you don't have to wait for me. Just go to sleep if you're tired." Without waiting for you to say anything more, he turns and leaves. You don't care whether or not he comes home. Actually, this scene is exactly the same as before. Before MC appeared, he was always like this, speaking to you gently, telling you to go to sleep early, and stroking your hair. You've never argued, not even once.
But so what? What does a marriage without arguments even mean?
If you were to describe Caleb Xia with a single word, it would be "good." However, you know the truth painfully clearly: all the good things Caleb does don't stem from his love for you, but rather an act of atonement.
The words "never to dance again" were a devastating blow to both you and him back then. You still remember Caleb's reaction upon hearing those words; after the initial shock, he seemed utterly ripped from his soul.
From that moment on, the vibrant Caleb died. You were both simultaneously bound by the shackles of "forever"â you forever lost the stage, and he forever atoned for his sins. "I owe her" these three words became the unbearable weight of his life. From that moment forward, there was no more Caleb Xia; what lived was only your husbandâa walking robot, devoid of warmth and emotion. A stagnant pool, mechanically fulfilling the duties of a husband, a partner.
But now he's alive again⌠MC returned, bringing light back into his life. He's started smiling again, his eyes sparkling with light and fire. You sigh heavily. Even after all this, why wouldn't he let you go, and let himself go too?
T - 15 days You step out of the taxi, heart pounding as you approach tall glass doors. After watching the ballet piece, you are once again filled with determination and decided to sign up for a beginners dance class. You've been going to your physical therapy sessions dutifully, hoping one day, with enough hard work and practice, you'll be able to stand on stage again. You smile at the wide range of participants already there. They greet you warmly, introducing themselves one by one before the instructor walks in. As the class begins, you practice some very simple basics - posture, form, and stances. However, due to your injury, you quickly run out of stamina and spend a good portion of the class on the floor to rest inbetween. You're wiping the sweat off your brow with a towel and bidding goodbye to some new friends as a familiar voice calls from outside the studio door.
"Y/N!" It's Rafayel?!  "What are you doing here?" you ask, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment as you're stuck wondering how much of your clumsy work he had just seen. "The performing arts center commissioned a piece from me. It's going to be hanging on the top floor, so I came today to take a look at the atmosphere around here," he supplies, giving you a bright smile. "Nice," you feebly offer. Rafayel breaks the silence with a soft sigh, "Y/N, I can see the start of a rebirth." You know what he's referring to, you starting to pick up dancing again. But can you really call what you're doing right now dancing? You could barely stand up straight. "Don't be like that! You haven't practiced for five years, and you did really well today! I have a photo if you don't believe me." Rafayel takes out his phone, smoothly passing it to you to enter your number. It turns out he had recorded the last part of your dance lesson today. "Ah, my phone died" you say, rummaging through your dance bag. Rafayel shrugs and presses "send" anyways. "Here, let's go grab something to eat and you can watch yourself on mine. Â
The two of you head to a cafe, sitting outside on the patio as you make conversation over coffee and sandwiches. Rafayel shows you the video as you furrow your brows at your posture. You sigh dejectedly. Who would've imagined that the girl once known as "Little Swallow" would struggle like that? While Rafayel's words of encouragement still doesn't allow you to forgive yourself for falling so far behind, you agree with his sentiment: you were going to grow new wings and explore higher skies.Â
It was at this moment that Caleb drives by, catching a glimpse of your smile brighter than the sunset, sitting next to Rafayel, your heads slightly leaned in together as you watch something on his phone.Â
T - 14 days You feel a strange sense of oppression slowly growing behind you. You look up to see Caleb standing behind you, face partially covered by shadow. His complexion is stormy; he looks exhausted, and his hair is somewhat disheveled. As he approaches you, the setting sun behind him seems to ignite, mirroring the flames in his eyes. Â
âI called you all day, and your phone was off?â He is clearly suppressing his anger.
You don't know where this anger came from. Isn't he very busy? He usually never calls you anyways; why would he be offended that your phone died? Afterall, you weren't even angry when he went to take care of MC, what right did he have to dictate how you spend your time?Â
âOh, I didn't expect you to call,â you say calmly, stirring your drink. "Didn't expect me to call?" Caleb glances at Rafayel sitting beside you, gritting his teeth. "I'm your husband. If I don't call you, who will?" You shake your head, pulling yourself up using the armrest. "Who knows? I could have an ex-boyfriend," you say sarcastically. His expression changes, and he frown deeply. "Y/N."
Rafayel simply smiles, and turns to address Caleb. "Colonel Xia," he greets him. "Have you ever watched your wife dance?Â
Caleb freezes. Despite being the High Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, trained in all kinds of interrogation and logic, he could not decipher the meaning behind those words. Rafayel chuckles and bids the two of you goodbye, Caleb's gaze burning into the back of his silhouette.
"Y/N, I've underestimated you this whole time," Caleb says as you get into his car. "You're quite something." His voice carries a threat and suppressed anger. Your mind flashes to the stench of perfume on his shirt, and scoff, "Not as good as you." "Since when did you get in contact with him again? What does he do? I don't want to waste time finding that out myself." His hands rest on the steering wheel, his fingers long and slender. On his left ring finger is a new ring.
His wedding band has been off since the night of your wedding ceremony. What's he wearing now? You smile faintly and hold out your hand. On your ring finger is a jade ring, small enough for everyday wear. You were the one to pick out your wedding rings. You wanted a small, non-flashy stone because you wanted to wear it everyday, forever. It was a custom pair; his was also jade. The one on his hand is pure silver band. Caleb watches your movements and subconsciously pulls his left hand back.
You place your hand on the dashboard. "Colonel, can you please explain when your ring changed color?"
T - 13 days Caleb freezes for a fraction of a second, before muttering, "it's a formality, it's not that serious." You nearly laugh out loud. Of course, what can be more serious than marriage? Perhaps your observation ignited the tiniest shred of shame in him, for his tone softens considerably, his previous accusatory attitude gone. "I'm asking you this for your own good, Y/N. There won't be another man in this world who treats you like I do. Of course, I'm not perfect; I have my flaws. But I'm sincere, trusting, and unguarded with you. Your name is on all of my assets. It's hard to say what other people's intentions are."
You are immediately reminded of MC's words: She's in your house, but I'm in your heart.
You put on your earbuds, hoping to drown out whatever other demeaning things he has to say. Seeing this, Caleb hesitates, then drives off. He drops you off at home, saying, "I have more work to do at the office, don't wait up for me," before leaving again. You stare at the door blankly. You forgot how you used to care so much about those things.
Slowly, you take the wedding ring off your finger. Since it obviously doesn't have any true sentimental value anymore, you might as well sell it for cash. Actually, if you were going to sell it, might as well sell it as a pair! You look high and low around the house, but can't find the other one.
Suddenly, you remember that Caleb keeps a safe at home, something you've never thought to open. An idea strikes you.
You don't know the safe's combination. You try Caleb's birthday, but it didn't budge. You don't even bother to try yours. You think a little harder, hesitantly putting in the security code for the front door and garage. It opens! Inside are a stack of legal documents, property papers, and various other things that must be very important. You easily find the jewelry box with the same brand as your wedding ring, but there is another one in the very back, placed on top of a notebook.
You open the latter and see the another silver ring matching the one on Caleb's finger, along with a necklace with a small apple charm. Your hand rests on top of the notebook, mind teetering between looking and not looking. Ultimately, your self control wins, but as you move to put it back, a photograph slides out, falling to the floor. It's a photo of Caleb and MC from their high school days.Â
Honestly, it doesn't mean much. You knew for a long time that Caleb had feelings for someone else before. But since you married him, at least when you married him, you told yourself you didn't care about his past. You sigh, picking up the photo, and put it back in the notebook. Fuck it, trying to protect your already shattered heart is pointless now. You open it to a random page, planning to just stuff the photo back in, but you freeze as your eyes land on the writing: 100 Little things about Pipsqueak. The first thing listed is: Pips' birthday is May 1st.
Your hand slips, and the notebook falls to the ground. The code to your house is 20501 The combination to this safe is 0501. The air in the room seems to thin. You press your palm to your chest, gasping for breath. The second line reads: "I finally bought myself a house. It's in the style that MC likes. The password is her birthday."
So, for the last five years, you've been living in the house meant for Caleb and MC...
T - 12 days You bring the pair of rings to the antique watch shop, having scheduled a time with the owner. The owner is delighted, having previously bought the 10 necklaces you chose to part ways with as well. He ushers you to sit down in the private room behind the counter and pours you a cup of tea. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, hearing the door open as more customers enter the store.
The voices are familiar. Shit. Looking behind you, you see MC's appear, with Caleb in tow. You really manage to run into her everywhere, huh?
It's midday, right when Caleb usually has meetings. He sure has lots of free time now. You go do your business, ducking behind the curtains as you return to avoid being noticed.
"Caleb, look! This store has so many of these necklaces! They're limited edition zodiac ones!" MC points to something in the display case. If you aren't mistaken, it's definitely one of the pieces you sold. The old man takes it out. "You have a good eye, young lady. The necklaces were acquired recently. They only make a limited amount every year. These ones are no longer being sold." Caleb looks closely and frowns. "Are they really that rare?" "Yes, this limited collection began exactly 12 years ago, a zodiac edition with this year being the last edition. It's much more expensive than the regular model. I think I've got the only ten that exists in Linkon," the owner explains with a smile. "No way..." MC exclaims, "can you prove their authenticity if they're really that valuable?" "Of course! I've got the certificates as well as the invoices for each." "These ten necklaces, did you receive them all at once?" Caleb, who has been mostly silent, suddenly asks. "Yes," the owner nods with a smile, "from the same customer." Caleb's eyes sharpen. "Show me the invoice." The owner takes out the invoices and hands them to Caleb. He stares at them harshly, suddenly letting out a cold laugh. "Sir...?" The old man is taken aback, unsure what the issue was. "It has nothing to do with you, just give me all of them." Caleb says gruffly. Even MC sensed something was wrong and softly asks, "Gege?"
The owner notices you waiting for him. "You're back? Everything alright?" Caleb and MC looks your way as well, seeing your figure in the back.
You're not sure if it's just your imagination, but Caleb's eyes almost seem to be filled with anger. "Can you sit down for a moment? I'll show them the necklaces first, and then I'll look at your ring."
"What ring?" Caleb's voice is dangerously low, was full of suspicion upon hearing this. His gaze falls to the pair of jade rings behind the display case. "These two?" He taps the glass of the display case with his finger, his tone getting even more oppressive.
The owner clearly has no idea what is going on, why his customer was asking this, or how to answer. These were items provided by someone else; why is he asking about them? You don't intend to put him in an awkward situation, so you answer Caleb directly. "Yes, these two."
Caleb's gaze is burning. "Mrs. Xia, you're really something." It wasn't a compliment, but you reply calmly, "Thank you, you flatter me." "Get over here!" he suddenly roars. You sit down, picking up your cup of tea. He walks over to you instead, looming in front of you.
Perhaps out of consideration for the outside world, he tries to suppress his anger, his voice full of sarcasm, "I never thought I'd experience firsthand what it means by 'it's hard to guard against a thief from within the family'. One day, I wouldn't even know if my entire house was robbed." You ignore him. "Are you short of money? Is the money I give you not enough?" he hisses. "No, not at all," you say, "I've been decluttering lately, getting rid of anything useless." "Useless?" He's furious, pointing to the rings in the display case, "You're saying wedding rings are useless?" You look at him calmly, "Otherwise? If you say they're useful, have you ever worn it for a even day since the weeding ceremony?"
Caleb is speechless, indignant. "One day, you'll sell me off without me even knowing!" " You laugh and turn to at MC. "Do you want this? I'm selling one Caleb Xia, secondhand! I'll even give you a discount, I promise the price is favorable." MC is stunned. Caleb however, clearly doesn't find this funny. He turns to MC and says, "Pipsqueak, you head back first." She's unwilling, protesting, "but Gege!" "We'll talk about the necklace later, you go back first!" His expression is serious. MC knew when not to push his buttons. He's in a bad mood, and she didn't dare to provoke him. Lips trembling, she says gently, "Alright Gege, I'll go back first. But don't be too angry. Y/N must have her reasons, please don't scold her."Â
You roll your eyes.
As soon as MC leaves, Caleb immediately presses you. "What exactly are you doing? Tell me!" "I told you," you say calmly, "I'm decluttering things I don't want anymore." You pause, then continue. "Including you, Colonel Xia." "Are you serious?" His face is very unpleasant. "Yes." You were never anything but serious about this. "Y/N! I think you've been provoking me too much lately!" His eyes flash with anger.
You personally think that his temper has been a bit too volatile lately; the usually stable and gentle Colonel was gone, and MCÂ was largely to blame. He calls the owner over, harshly putting his black card on the table. "I'll take all of them."
The owner wraps everything up, afraid of knowing too much about the uncomfortable relationship between the three of you. Get in the car!" he demands, dragging you out by your wrist. âIt looks like I misjudged you,â he says once he starts driving. âI always thought you were a sensible and understanding, person, but now it seems you're getting too full of yourself. Look at PipsâŚâ âI donât want to see her, ok? You can go spend your time with her if she's that great.â
You put on your headphones for real this time. You're in no mood to hear about how wonderful MC is to him. He drops you off at the entrance of the neighborhood and tells you to get out. âI have a meeting later-â You get out and slam the door shut. You don't give a fuck about what he's doing tonight.
T - 11 days At 11pm, you hear Caleb enter the front door. You shut down your laptop and turn to scroll lazily on your phone, overhearing him greet Mrs. Chen. "I told you to cook it according to my wife's taste, why did you make it spicy?" "Madam said...spicy." Aunt Chen's voice was tinged with panic. "And she didn't eat a single bite?" "Yes..." "Get me a bowl of rice."
A few minutes later, Caleb enters the bedroom. His tie is loose, the top button of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up to his wrists. "Aren't you going to come out and have dinner with me?" he asks, the anger from earlier seemingly gone. For the last few years, he's always come home pretty late, rarely for dinner, but made sure to eat when he came home. You cherished those moments, bustling around him, serving up his food and keeping him company for the little time before going to sleep. What good was your attentiveness in the end? Who knows, perhaps it only served to annoy him?
âWhat did you eat tonight? From now on, you donât need to cook according to my taste. Tell Mrs. Chen to make what you like,â he says. You roll your eyes. He really thinks you're still trying to gain his favor. He pulls up a chair and sits down on the edge of the bed. âY/N,â What is it now?
He takes a deep breath. âMC really liked that ring. Since you sold it anyway, I gave it to her. I just transferred you some money. Take it and buy something you like. Of course. So thatâs what it's about. No wonder he's suddenly being so friendly with you. You have your back to him and simply say, "Oh," then add, "Okay."
T - 11 days until leaving Caleb Xia: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?
"So well-behaved today?" His voice softens. "I wanted to buy something for you, but you obviously don't like what I buy." "Hmm." "What's wrong? You're asleep already?" He frowns. "Are you feeling unwell? Let me see." He leans over, wanting to see your face. "Don't tell me you're secretly crying?" In his dreams! You give no reaction.
After tucking you in tighter, he looks at your quiet form, hesitates, and finally says, âY/N, I'm going on a mission tomorrow.â A mission! You immediately open our eyes. This means you can go in person to meet with a lawyer and get your interviews and forms stamped without him knowing!
You sit up, eyes shining brightly. âHow many days are you going?â âThree or four days, possibly up to a week.â He frowns, thinking your reaction is a bit over the top. What does this mean? You were letting him go? âNo, itâs okay. Who are you going with?â you follow up haphazardly, heart pounding with joy. His expression grows increasingly hesitant. "Gideon." He pauses, then adds, "Maybe MC too." "Oh." You lie back down. "Sounds good, tell me before you come back, I'll have Mrs. Chen prepare good food." He looks at you incredulously. "You're not angry?" You shake your head. "Go to sleep early, you have a business trip tomorrow, you need to get some rest." "Y/N, trust me, a lot more of us will be going together..." He moves closer to you, but you push him away. "Go take a shower, I've already showered, don't get too close to me." He frowns. "What do you mean? You think I'm dirty?" Well, he does reek of MC's perfume.Â
The next day, you're still groggy when Caleb gets up. You had expected him to pack his things and go without leaving you with any words, but unexpectedly, he insists on waking you. "Ugh, sleepy!" You smack his hand away.
"Mrs. Xia," he drawls, standing by the bed. "Your performance is falling. You don't feed me, give me mooncakes anymore, or ask me about my day, and now I'm leaving for a mission and you won't even help me pack my luggage?" It's true. If this was before, you'd be fretting all over him, his luggage already prepared the night before. You roll your eyes. Fine, you'll pack for him then!
You go into the walk-in closet, and start placing folded clothes and personal belongings neatly into his suitcase. Before you close the zipper, you head over to the bedside drawer, take out a box of condoms, and was about to throw it into the suitcase as well. Your arm is grabbed roughly. "Where did this come from?" Caleb demands, eyes darkening.Â
To be honest, you originally prepared it for your honeymoon though you never ended up using it. It's probably expired by now, but you thought it would be funny. You smile. âI prepared this especially for you. Tell me, aren't I a wonderful Mrs. Xia?â âYouâŚâ Caleb picks up the box and throws it forcefully into the trash can, âThat'll be unnecessary! Even if I had a child, I could afford to raise it. Besides, I donât plan on having one anytime soon!â He zips up the suitcase, locks it, and leaves with a huff.
T - 10 days You head to physical therapy again. While sitting in the waiting area for your appointment, your phone suddenly goes off. Your surprise turns into annoyance as you see the caller ID: Husband. Fortunately, there's not many people beside you. After picking up the call, you quietly say, "Hello".
"Why are you speaking so softly? What are you doing?" Caleb asks on the other end. "I'm at the doctor's, it's not good to talk loudly." You quickly take out earbuds, further lowering your voice to a whisper. "Why am I getting so many calls these days?" It's really annoying. He seems even more offended on the other end, "Your own husband can't call you? Are you annoyed at me?" More than annoyed! You roll your eyes "No, not really, it's just quite unsettling. What's wrong?" "Mrs. Xia!" He scoffs on the other end, "Can't I call you if there's nothing wrong?" " You're speechless for a second. This person is getting more and more irrational. "What instructions does the Colonel have for me?" you roll your eyes, not believing him. "You're kidding me!" His tone softens a bit, "I'm transferring flights, it's not boarding time yet, just wanted to see if you're up." So he really is bored! "Don't you have anything to say to me?" You pop a grape into your mouth, mumbling an "oh". "Y/N!" ??? Why does it sound like he's about to get angry? "What are you eating that's more important than your husband's safety?" You finally swallow the grape, "You... you've been attacked?" A long sigh comes from the phone, "Never mind, you eat, just hearing your voice is enough, I'm about to board too." The call ended abruptly.
You look at your phone, listening to the dial tone, feeling utterly bewildered.
On the other end, MC glances at him several times. "Gege," she calls. "Hmm? Let's go get ready to board." "You seem to miss Y/N a lot. You've made so many calls since we left" she says tentatively.
Caleb doesn't notice her gaze, only frowning slightly. "Hmm, I don't know why, but I feel uneasy about this trip. I have a feeling something's going to happen." "You...are you worried something might happen to Y/N? Then ask Liam or someone to go check on her." Caleb sighs. "Y/N doesn't know Liam that well. I don't think she'd appreciate it anyway." "Then what should we do?" MC asks worriedly. "Should I not have asked to come on this mission with you?" Caleb glances down at her and smiles. "It's okay. I called her already. Hearing her voice is enough to put my mind at ease." "Caleb, you actually...love Y/N very much, don't you?" MC asks with a smile, but a darker current ripples under her eyes. He pauses. "Y/N can't live without me. She's my responsibility, so Pips..." "I understand, Gege." MC smiles, interrupting his words gently and sweetly. "Don't forget, I'm the person who understands you best in the world."
T - 9 days It's a peaceful few days without having to see Caleb. Instead of the anxiety that once filled you every time he went away, you feel calm. As you begin packing your things, you get an invitation from one of your old dance buddies. Mina is visiting home on her trip back from abroad, now a professional dancer on Broadway. You eagerly agree to meet with her, catching up over lunch as the two of you reminisce over the good old times. She's initially a little hesitant to show you photos of herself on stage, worried it'd make you sad, but you quickly reassure her that was not to worry about. Later, as she helps you down the steps of the restaurant, you ask what her plans are for the rest of the day.
"Oh! Umm, I'm actually getting dinner with a larger group of our old classmates..." She looks at you with a flicker of hope in her eyes. "If you don't mind... would you like to join us?" "Of course!" You say with a smile. "I haven't seen everyone in so long. Do any of them know what happened with me?" You're referring to your leg. "That's where I need to apologize," Mina looks guilty. "I told them you injured your leg without asking your permission first... but nothing else!"
You understand. Your classmates, whom you haven't seen in a long time, would definitely ask how you were doing. Your leg injury was a fact, and you don't plan on hiding it forever. "It's okay, really!" You're done feeling sorry for yourself. Your goal is to step out of the world Caleb had created for you, and in doing that, you will inevitably face all sorts of stares and judgement. "Then I'll reply to them!" Mina says happily.
"Let's go! They said they're heading out soon". The meet-up location is nearby. By the time you and Mina get there, some of your classmates have already arrived. The enthusiasm they show you exceed your expectations. They mention your leg, even gathering around to examine it, but without malice, as if your leg wasn't anything serious, like a minor inconvenience like a cold. You liked this atmosphere; it's much better than deliberately trying to protect your pride. Everyone is treating you as a normal person, just with a leg injury.
It's a pleasant evening. The group sings old songs from high school on the karaoke. After three or four hours, you all get tired and sit down to chat, reminiscing about the past and having some drinks to liven things up. Even you, encouraged by everyone, drink quite a bit. Among your classmates, some have had good times, others have experienced setbacks. Talking about the past, people begin talking about regrets. Someone says, "If I had known this would happen, I would have studied harder in high school and not skipped so many classes." Another adds, "If I had known he also liked me, I definitely wouldn't have been a coward on graduation day; I would have confessed to him. I've missed my chance all these years." A good amount of sentimentality is triggered by the alcohol, and for a moment, everyone's eyes are filled with tears. From your teenage years to approaching thirty, everyone has had some regrets.
"Y/N, what about you? If you could do it all over again, what would you do?" someone asks you. You hold a glass of wine in your hands, ruminating in thought. The image of osmanthus blossoms from that Mid-Autumn Festival many years ago flashes before your eyes, twinkling like stars. You smile faintly, "If I could do it all over again..."
Caleb pushes open the door to the private room.
"If I could do it all over again, I want to eat all the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival in our second year of high school by myself! I'm not sharing it with anyone!"
Was it the alcohol? The bitterness in your heart is amplified. You take a deep breath and look up, only to see someone standing in the doorway under the flickering lights. Caleb. Your classmates don't quite understand what you're referring to, and assume it is some old pastry shop that has closed, the mooncakes never to be tasted again. You can't see it, but Caleb's fists clench at his side, knuckles turning white.
"Hey, Caleb!" Finally, someone notices him come in. You're a little dizzy, seeing two Calebs approach you. "Caleb Xia! You're so late, shouldn't you take three shots as punishment?" A classmate named Xavier places three glasses down in front of him. âSorry, I'll have to decline.â Caleb puts his arm around you, looking down at your tipsy form. âIâm here to pick up my wife. I have to drive later.â âCall a cab!â Caleb gives a polite smile. âThat wonât do. If I drink too much, who will take care of her?â
You are a little drunk, but still conscious enough to hear him and what's going on. Under the influence of alcohol though, your actions are more unrestrained. Your first instinct is to push Caleb aside, muttering, âI donât need you to take care of me. Go away.â âY/N, youâre really drunk. Letâs go home.â Caleb tries to pick you up. âNo! I donât want to go homeâŚâ You struggle in his arms. âDo you hear that? Y/N isnât going home!â Xavier pushes Caleb's shoulder, forcing him back down.Â
Mina senses something is off. Xavier had quite a bit to drink today and was probably drunk by now. Worried about the boys starting trouble, she quickly tries to break it up. "Alright, it's getting late. We've had our fun, let's start packing up." "No way!" Xavier doesn't back down, gripping Caleb's shoulder tightly. "You're not leaving until you finish this drink!" Caleb, as the Farspace Fleet Colonel, is incredibly perceptive. His expression darkens. "Xavier Shen, I'll let it slide since you've had too much to drink, but you'd better watch yourself!" "Watch myself?" The rage in Xavier's eyes are now impossible to conceal. "Caleb Xia, I'm telling you, watch yourself!"
Xavier moves to grab his collar, but not before having his wrists clamped forcefully by Caleb. "Xavier Shen! Did you come here to cause trouble?" "Yes!" He shouts, "I came here to cause trouble! Caleb, what the hell did you do to Y/N? What exactly did you do to her!?" He roars, his eyes bloodshot. Caleb's eyes sharpen, his hand still gripping his wrists, veins bulging on the back. "Listen here, Shen. My wife eats well, sleeps well, lives in a mansion, and I pamper her like a princess. Who are you to concern yourself with our marital affairs?"
"Is that so?" An incredulous laugh follows. Xavier didn't believe Caleb at all, both men rising from the sofa. "Then tell me, how did Y/N become like this? What happened to her leg? She's a dancer! When she dances on stage, she's as graceful as a swan. What did you do to her? Take good care of her? Why then did she become like this after getting married? Five years, and you've been covering it up, saying she doesn't want to come out and socialize! You're lying! Do you beat her at home!?"
"My wife and I are doing just fine! Why her foot is like this is her privacy, there's no need for me to explain it to you, Xavier! Don't forget your place in front of me, and don't you dare try to play any tricks on my wife!" Caleb yanks harshly, pushing the other man away so hard the buttons on his collar pop off.
Already quite drunk, Xavier loses his balance, staggers a couple of steps, and falls onto the coffee table, knocking over a bunch of bottles and plates. "Caleb, I've wanted to beat you up for ages!" He scrambles up and lunges at him. Fearing trouble, rest of your classmates rush forward to restrain him. "Caleb! Take Y/N and leave! He's drunk, and you haven't been drinking - calm down Xavier! Don't cause any more trouble!"
Caleb tugs at his collar, giving Xavier one last cold look, then puts his arm around your waist and lifts you up. "Let's go, my wife. Don't come to parties like this again." You're practically dragged and carried away by Caleb.
"Why didn't you let Y/N attend the class reunion!" Xavier shouts from behind you. "Caleb Xia, what skeletons do you have hiding in your closet?!"  Caleb stops. "I don't feel guilty about anything. You better not be the one with things to hide!" "Me? Guilty?" he laughs. "Alright then, Caleb, I have a question for you! Were you the one who threw away all the love letters I put in Y/N's locker back then?"
Love letters? How did you not know that Xavier Shen had written you love letters? You glance back, only to be swept up in Caleb's arms and quickly carried out of the private room.
Everyone else is left exchanging bewildered glances: Xavier liked you back in high school? Xavier struggles against the boys, shouting, "Let me go! I'm going to beat Caleb Xia to death! That fucking hypocrite!" "Xavier, you're drunk, stop it." They don't let go, afraid he'd really chase after you. âCall him back here!" Xavier demands. âIâm going to call him here! Iâm going to teach him a lesson!â âXavier! Get your head screwed on straight!â âDonât stop me! Do you know how much Y/N loved to dance? She was in the practice room before class, after school, and weekends too! Sometimes sheâll even do a somersault while walking! Sheâs such a passionate dancer, a perfectly healthy person, and now her leg is injured - there's no way she's not heartbroken about it! That bastard Caleb Xia keeps lying to us, saying Y/N doesn't like going out. He's done something to her, I bet my fucking life on it!â
Caleb's already brought you to his car, carefully placing you in the passenger seat. The minute he gets into the driver's seat, he catches you trying to open to the door, and he immediately locks it. "Open the door! I want out!" You feel your head spinning, the alcohol really settling in." "You're drunk, Y/N." He says, sighing. "I'm not drunk!" You insist. You clearly heard many voices back there, and you heard Caleb call you his "wife." Something is wrong! He's never called you "wife" before, only ever by name, or at most "Mrs. Xia" when he's angry at you, and you can sense that he uses the term sarcastically. Moreover, you can tell he's in an unhappy mood right now!
He rolls down the window, letting you get some fresh air.
"What did you mean by what you said in the private room?" Caleb's voice sounds particularly cold in the cool breeze. "What...what did I mean?" What was he talking about? You said a lot of stuff today. "You said you wouldn't give your mooncakes to anyone else, what did you mean?" He rests his hands on the steering wheel, looking ahead, his eyes sharp. "Um...not...not for Caleb Xia." Your head feels heavy, and you close your eyes tightly. "Why?" You smile, sad laugh escaping your lips. "Because I don't want to pursue him anymore...I gave my mooncakes to the wrong person..." "Is that so? The wrong person?" Caleb leans closer, "Who are you going to give them to then?" "Give them to..." Your mind is a little confused. Who else would you give them to? "To Xavier?" He suddenly speaks as if interrogating you, his tone fierce.
The name reminds you that you had supposedly gotten multiple love letters. You frown, eyes getting hazy, looking at the face before you, murmuring, "Why did you throw away my love letters? They were from someone else." "I'm the class monitor!" Caleb says sternly. "The school doesn't encourage early relationships!" You furrow your brows... that reasoning... You punch his shoulder hard. "What's it to you? You're just the class monitor, not even my homeroom teacher! The love letters he gave me are my privacy, what does it have to do with you! Why did you throw them away, you bully!"
Your eyes are blurry. Although your punches don't hurt much, each one lands with force, solidly striking his shoulders and chest. "Are you angry?" He grasps your hand. "You're angry because I threw away your love letters?" "Of course I'm angry! If someone wrote me a love letter..." You vaguely recall how you felt back in high school. The mess of hormones in early puberty, the insecurities you had, the self-consciousness about every little thing about you. Mina and the girls around you all received gifts and notes from boys, but you never did. You weren't very close with your parents, having grown up by your grandparents' side. But it seemed to you that no one, not even your parents, loved you, let alone any boys. You weren't sad about not receiving any confessions, but if you did, it at least would have been an important form of affirmation; at least you were good in someone's eyes.Â
âWhat if you did? Would you date him?â Caleb presses on relentlessly. Your frown deepens. When did you ever say you wanted to date someone?
âLet me tell you, those boys were all immature squirts back then! Whether it's Xavier or whoever else you wanted to give your mooncakes to! You're easily moved by anyone who shows you kindness! You'd only ended up getting taken advantage of!â Your face contorts into a grimace. You're barely holding onto your consciousness and Caleb's stupid face seems to multiply into four in your vision. You shake your head, trying to shake the other three Calebs away. âNo... Xavier isnât that kind of person youâre describing.â The Xavier you recall is a sleepy boy, getting in trouble for napping in class, often found under the shade of trees with a stray cat in his lap. âThen what kind of person is he?â Caleb suddenly raises his voice. âAnd the other person you had in mind, who is he?â âHeâs⌠genuine... and very kind. If heâs good to someone⌠heâll always be good to themâŚâ A flash of white hair enters your mind. You try to remember a face, thinking really hard, but only seeing the creases of someone's summer uniform. You didn't interact with him much in high school, but you knew he secretly kept a crow as a pet on his dorm window ledgeâa pitiful little thing he picked up one day and never let go. "He's... a good person..." you mumble. ".... Q...qin..."Â
You black out.
T - 8 days You wake up to a splitting headache, nauseous and parched. The midday sun is high in the sky. Stumbling down from the bed, you trip and fall with a loud 'thud'. You rub your eyes, trying to clear the fog still in your brain, but before you find your balance again, you're being lifted and put back into soft sheets.Â
Caleb stands at the bedside, looking displeased, but to your surprise, doesn't scold you about your clumsiness as he usually does. You purse your lips, also not particularly eager to talk about what happened last night. He brings you a try of light breakfast foods; some chicken soup congee, pancakes, and a few side dishes. "Eat. Mrs. Chen is off today. I cooked."
You stare at the food in front of you, head still in a daze. The colonel... cooked for you? This is the second time you've ever eaten something Caleb has made for you. The first since you got married. Slowly picking up your spoon, your mind flashes back to the last time you experienced this.
You were only in your first year of high school, your homeroom had organized a camping trip. Outside, all your classmates run around joyfully, like lambs in a field. Yet Caleb was already a quiet and reliable person, getting ready for lunch. He was always clean and tidy, presentable and strong. That day on the camping trip was the most disheveled you had ever seen him. He knew how to cook, but that didn't mean he was able to do it easily outdoors. He couldn't figure out how to start the fire. He struggled earnestly, face and hands stained with soot.
You were different. When you were young, your grandparents brought you back to the village often. You built fires, scaled trees, and caught insects with all the other children over there. Despite being in a different group, you felt bad watching him struggle like that, so you go over, emptied his stove, and started a fire for him. He stared at the blazing flames, momentarily stunned. Perhaps too self-conscious of his disheveled appearance, he didn't even thank you. But afterwards, his performance became much more consistent. Judging from the way he cooked, it was clear he was used to doing domestic chores at home. His group thanked him by saving the chicken leg for him. But he didn't eat it. As he passed your group, he places the drumstick in your bowl.Â
That was the moment your heart started pounding for him, despite being the first of only a handful of times you ever interacted with him. That night, your dreams were filled with his image; his determined face, covered with soot, his slender fingers as he cut the vegetables, his meticulous and focused expression as he cooked⌠The next day in class, you watch his profile as you absent-mindedly filled a whole page with his name, âCaleb Xiaâ⌠Later, that piece of paper disappeared, but those words were etched firmly in your heart, impossible to erase.
The next time you ask him a question was after parent-teacher conferences. The teacher took note of students whose parents did not show up. You were one of them. Coincidentally, he was too. Classmates whisper about what happened. A few of the students failed to inform their parents about the meetings, afraid of punishment for their poor grades. But Caleb wasn't like that. He was at the top of the class. "Caleb Xia! You got first place in the entire grade, why aren't your parents here? If I got your score, my parents, grandparents, and even my dog would come!" someone yells. Other students chimed in, "Yeah, Caleb, you got good grades, why aren't your parents here?" He replies simply. "Don't ask, they're dead."
Later, you witness something you probably shouldn't have seen. Caleb stands in an inconspicuous corner by the school's back gate. A dark car pulls up in front of him, the window rolled down, and he throws a wad of cash at the driver, hitting him in the face. The person in the car points a finger at him, cursing, âYou scoundrel! You think just because your parents offed themselves that you're safe with little old grandma?" You're stunned. Unaware of his family's situation. Caleb is stubborn, refusing to reply before he turns and walks away. The driver calls after him shouting, "You'll join us one day, Caleb! Let's see how you survive!" The sunset was blinding, bathing him in a golden light. He laughs defiantly, "Don't worry! I'd rather be bought out by a rich old lady than go with you!" What kind of talk was that! Coming from a high schooler!Â
You don't know where you got the courage that day, but you walk up to him, eyes wide, voice panicked, "Caleb, whatever you do, don't sell yourself out like that!" You don't know if you were imagining things, but you saw something that looked like glistening tears in his eyes in the setting sun. They flash for a moment before he turns away, coldly smiling, "So, you're going to sponsor me?" You fall silent. That was Caleb's most irrational moment. Even now, more than a decade later, you never saw him as vulnerable again.
The next day, you take a math problem to him and ask how to solve it. He raises a single eyebrow, not saying a word. You thought he had refused, your head hanging low. Finally, he tore off a piece of scratch paper and began to explain while drawing on it. He talked for the entire break before finally asking, "Do you understand now?" You nod frantically. Then throw down five dollars and run back to your seat, completely unaware of Caleb's expression behind you.
You didn't have an allowance either, saving up those five dollars from running small errands here and there for other classmates and neighbors.
After school, Caleb blocked you on your way to the dorms. He stood under a sycamore tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting dappled shadows over him. You don't dare to lift your head, trying to walk past him. He stands in front of you. "Why aren't you looking at me?" The heat was unbearable, making your face flush. You're too embarrassed to say anything. He scoffs, "you were quite bold earlier when you wanted to buy me out." You lower your head even further. "I...I didn't mean..." A five-dollar note is thrust in front of you. "Isn't this it? You think you can keep me for five dollars? Before you can even clarify that you just wanted him to tutor you, he interrupts you, shoving the money back into your hands, swiftly leaving you behind with a single sentence: "I don't need your pity."
Your heart ached.
Later, he skipped three days of class. When you saw him outside school with a black armband pinned to his sleeve, when he returned to class and said, "Y/N, my grandmother passed away," your heart ached like that again; the pain crashing down like a tidal wave.
That Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone went home for a reunion dinner with their families and ate mooncakes, including you. You went to your grandparents' house. But he no longer had a grandmother to go back to. After dinner, on your way back to school, the osmanthus trees near the dormitory were in full bloom, their fragrance rich and intoxicating. By sheer coincidence, you see him standing there, alone. You hand him a mooncake, filled with fresh meat, made by your grandmother. That night, you sat together under the osmanthus tree, eating mooncakes. Neither of you said a word. After finishing the mooncake, he went to the classroom, and you went back to your dorm. The warm feeling from that night haunted you, driving you to accept his proposal 5 years later, despite not knowing each other well at all.
You once saw a comment online that said "Feeling sorry for a man will make you unhappy for life." You didn't know what that meant back then. Now, you understand.
T - 6 days Today is the day you are scheduled to pick up your visa. You pack your purse carefully, pausing when the little rectangular piece of plastic that has always lived in your shared bedroom drawer is gone. Where did your ID go? You look everywhere in the room. Still nothing. Your pulse rising, you think back to the last few days. You haven't touched it at all. Caleb! He was rummaging through here this morning.
You immediately pick up your cell phone to call him. Shockingly, he answers on the first ring. "Caleb, do you have my ID?" You ask, slightly breathless. "Good morning to you to," he says sarcastically. "Caleb! Is it with you!" You press on. "Yes." His reply is short and straight to the point. "Why did you take it?" You're exasperated, concerned you'll have to reschedule for later. "Why do you need it?" He shocks you by turning your question against you. "None of your business! I need it today." A slight pause from him on the other end. "Come get it then." "Get it... from your workplace?" You say incredulously. "If you want it, come get it." He hangs up. You stare at your phone dumbfoundedly. Then immediately call a cab to the Farspace Fleet HQ.
You've never really came to his workplace in the five years you spent together. The only other time you recall entering the building wasn't the most unpleasant experience for you either. You text him as you enter, informing him of your arrival. He doesn't reply this time. You call, but it doesn't go through. You frown. Was he in a meeting? You don't have all day, so you are forced to go to the front counter and reveal your identity.
"The Colonel's wife?" The receptionist looks at you and laughs. "Young lady, everyone who comes here claims to be the Colonel's wife. If you're going to think of an excuse, find one that's less clichÊ." "I'm serious. Call the Colonel, and tell him Y/N is here. He'll know to come down." You're not in the mood to play games. "That's what they all say. If we did that, you'd think the Colonel wouldn't have time for anything other than dealing with people like you all day." The receptionist rolled her eyes and muttered. "People like me?" You frown. "And pray, what am I?" "Shameless women who want to climb the social ladder without working for it!" the receptionist laughs. "At least other women come here with presentable features, but now we're getting cripples? You should at least know your place!"
Is it really true that birds of a feather flock together? You can't wrap your head around her thinking. Why is it that no stranger outside of Caleb's circle harbor any ill will towards you and your leg, while everyone around Caleb is like this? You're thinking of going home and getting your marriage certificate to prove your place; you certainly aren't going anywhere by talking to the workers down here.Â
Just then, the elevator door opens, and Liam walks out. Seeing the Adjutant, the receptionist immediately turns respectful. "Adjutant Lin!" She greets him properly. "Madam Y/N, I am the Colonel's Adjutant. Please come with me." He leads the way, letting you into the elevator. The two of you head straight to the top floor.
"The Colonel is in a meeting right now," he explains, leading you to a small office. "Please wait in here for now." You thank him and put your bag down. A few minutes later, a knock is heard, and a lady emerges from the door. "Ms. Y/N, I am the Colonel's secretary. Would you like something to drink?" "Anything is fine, or just water," you reply. She returns with a glass of juice. "Is passionfruit drink ok?" "That's wonderful, thank you." You take the glass. "Just sit tight, I'll come get you once the meeting ends." She smiles, and closes the door behind her.Â
Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty, and thirty. You watch the time tick by, growing impatient. Finally, you get up to open the conference room door, only to find it locked from the outside. Damn it! You still need to pick up your visa this afternoon. You frantically call Caleb's phone, but strangely, no one picks up despite the call going through. You're smart enough to know that this is most certainly a setup, but you don't have the time nor heart to figure out who orchestrated this entire thing or what their purpose was. You just wanted to get your visa. You pound on the door, frantically, yelling, but no one answers. You sit down and pick up the passion fruit lemonade, drinking it down in one gulp. Hands trembling, you quickly type out an email rescheduling your visa appointment.
Suddenly, your face begins to itch. This isn't passion fruit lemonade at allâŚ
You check the time: another ten minutes had passed. Neither Liam nor the secretary had returned, and nobody else knew you were here⌠You feel your throat closing, as your breathing gets heavier. You drag yourself, limping to the door, continuing to pound on it as you are no longer able to make any noise. You catch sight of a red box.Â
Throughout the office, everyone is methodically going about their work when suddenly, the building's fire alarms start blaring loudly. "What's going on?" People run out of their cubicles and offices to see what's going on. "Someone pulled the fire alarm on the top floor! Everyone evacuate!"
Caleb also hears the noise, and comes out immediately. "What's going on? How can there be a fire up here?" His eyelids have been twitching all day. He had a strange, ominous premonition.
Thunk... thunk... thunk...
It sounds like someone is weakly banging on the door. "Who's in there?" Caleb asks urgently, kicking the door. MC appears from behind him, clinging to his shoulder. "Gege! Don't go in there! It could be dangerous!" "Someone's in here!" Caleb shouts. "Caleb... Help... help me... Caleb..."Â A weak cry, barely audible over the commotion in the hall. Caleb's eyes widen in shock. "Y/N! Y/N! Is that you in there? Y/N answer me!" He forcefully shakes off MC's hand, barging against the door with his shoulder. "Someone! Help! Open the door!"
With a loud bang, he breaks the door down.Â
You're on the floor, fallen to the side. Body red, face nearly turning purple. "Y/N!" he cries, quickly picking you up. "Call an ambulance!" His roar echoes throughout the entire floor. His voice startles you, as you weakly open your eyes, looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar face in front of you. You want to raise your hand to check if it is real, but your arm refuses to move. You try to speak, but no sound comes out. You manage a weak smile and barely manage to mouth the words: "if... I'm dead... won't... owe me anything... you'll... free.." "Stop it! You won't die!" Caleb runs down dozens of flights of stairs. You close your eyes. You don't mind saying goodbye to all of this. "Y/N, don't sleep on me, ok? Wake up! Wake up, you hear me?" The last thing you her is Caleb's frantic voice.Â
T - 5 days You wake up in the hospital after getting an acute dose of epinephrine. Zayne gives you a thorough examination, and finds no other acute problems. After determining you're stable enough to step down to the observation area, he scolds you seriously. "Walking around without an epipen with a serious allergy? You could've died from anaphylaxis! How could you be so careless?"
Caleb is still somewhat shaken by it all. "An allergic reaction? Y/N, what did you eat that caused this?" You sit there silently.
"Let's observe her a little longer. There are still a few results pending. We'll see what happens when the results come back," Zayne says before leaving.
Caleb sighs and sits down beside you, continuing to carefully dab at your neck and shoulders with the cotton swab. It stings a little. You frown and turn away. "Don't move, Y/N. I'm trying to clean it. Don't want any infections from your blisters." The words sound familiar. In the early days after your injury, he had said similar things. But it was that gentleness, this feigned gentleness, that gave you false hope and expectation in him. He's acting so kind again - what's he trying to do?
You no longer trust anything he says.Â
âI remember youâre allergic to apples. Did you eat apples before coming to the HQ today? But Mrs. Chen knows not to buy them... Did you eat something new on your way here?â His tone is like coaxing a child⌠You purse your lips, giving him a cold laugh. âI didnât eat anything. Iâm calling the police.â your tone is firm. âCall the police?â Caleb frowns. There's a rustling sound outside the room. You turn around to see that MC had arrived.
T - 4 days MC stands outside holding a bouquet of flowers, looking cautious and timid. "Caleb, how is Y/N? I wanted to come see her, but I was worried she wouldn't want to see me." "Y/N's fine, she just needs some rest," Caleb says, knowing you indeed dislike her. "I appreciate your sentiment, but she's in a bad mood right now, you should go back." "Hmm..." MC purses her lips, eyes rimmed with tears. "Caleb, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. As your personal assistant, I was careless, causing Y/N to suffer like this. I'm so glad she's alright, otherwise... otherwise, I don't know what I would do..." She starts crying.
You, still in the room, hear everything. MC joined the Farspace Fleet as Caleb's personal assistant? So that's why she went on the mission with him. However, since she's his assistant, everything that happened today makes sense now.Â
You grab your bag, turning on your phone. "What are you doing?" Caleb comes back seeing you enter your password. "I told you, I'm calling the police." You successfully unlock it.Â
MC rushes into the room, Gideon behind her now. "Y/N, tread carefully. This is the Farspace Fleet HQ we're talking about. Are you sure the authorities will respond to this? What happened in the meeting room was an accident, I swear." "Oh? And how would you know it was an accident?" you scoff. "Were you the one who locked the door?" MC's face immediately turns pale. "How could you say that about me! It was Secretary Lu who led you to the conference room, she was the one who brought you the apple juice. She said the door was locked from the inside!" "Apple juice?" You look into MC's flustered eyes. You have a pretty good idea of what's going on now. "I never said I drank apple juice, how did you know it was apple juice?" MC avoids your eyes. "No, I... As Caleb's personal assistant, I checked everything before coming here! Secretary Lu explained everything that happened from picking you up to asking you to wait in the conference room." "Is that so?" You turn to look at Caleb. "There aren't many people in this world who knows I'm allergic to apple juice. Not even my parents." Only your grandparents. And Caleb.Â
Caleb's face stiffens.
You remain unusually calm. "Caleb Xia, your secretary kept telling me she gave me passion fruit juice. How did it turn into apple juice? Did Secretary Lu deliberately tamper with it, or did someone switch the drink around? And Caleb, who have you told about my apple juice allergy?" MC's face is deathly pale. You don't wait for her to reply. "And the doors? There's security cameras all over the Farspace HQ. A quick check will bring everything to light. Of course, if the cameras were tampered with... that's a whole different issue. So I'm going to have to call the police about it".Â
Caleb's face drops, his expression changing drastically. "Pips... did you really...?"
She runs forward to grab his arm. "No Gege! I swear! It wasn't me, it must've just been a joke!" "A joke?" you sneer. "Your group seems to love joking around the most. I've lived for over twenty five years and never knew that you guys had jokes that could kill people!" "No, no, no.." MC shakes her head violently, "Gege, listen to me! It wasn't me, I promise-" "She's lying" you say flatly, dialing the tone.
Gideon, unable to contain himself any longer, smacks the phone out of your hands. "Who's lying! You're the one lying, for your own selfish reasons, slandering an innocent person!" His line of thinking is really quite creative, giving everyone else a new inspiration to ride off of. "Y/N," MC cries, looking at you with disbelief, "I can't believe you hate me this much, that you'd put your own life in danger to frame me! If you hate me that much, just kick me out! Don't torment Caleb like this! Do you care for him at all? Do you know how terrified he was? I never thought it'd all be staged!" Gideon scoffs, "isn't acting pitiful her specialty? Wasn't her saving Caleb five years ago the same thing? She wanted to force him into marrying her!"
You knew all too well how cruel Gideon could be, and how little he thought of you. Yet you never expected him to say something so shameless: that you saving Caleb five years ago was self-sabotage to trick him into marriage!
Sometimes, when anger reaches its peak, it paradoxically turns into calm. You look at Caleb, despite knowing time and time again that he won't side with you. But in this moment, you just want to ask him one question: if he thought the same as Gideon. Then it wouldn't just be a matter of you being foolish. You would've been better off saving a dog five years ago.Â
"Caleb," you stand, not a ripple of emotion behind your eyes. "Come here." Caleb, sandwiched between Gideon and MC, looks at you. "Caleb, don't go!" Gideon and MC say it almost simultaneously.
His gaze meets yours. After a brief silence, Caleb stands up and walks to you. You look at the man you had risked your life for, the man you "traded" your leg for. You calmly ask, "Do you think so too?" He doesn't speak. "You also..." you stare into deep amethyst eyes, the echo of the conversation you had with him after he interrupted your physical therapy still ringing in your ears. "You also think that today's events were done on purpose? You also think that I saved you five years ago expecting you to marry me?"
Something in Caleb's eyes narrow, and he looks away. "Say it, Caleb! Look at me!"Â A minute of silence passes. "Yes."
You gasp, as if that would force you to swallow the pain, but your vision still blurs uncontrollably. The quiet but resolute "yes" feels like a boulder crashing into your chest, the lingering pain still reverberating over and over after the initial damage. How could someone who has been hurt to this extent still be sad?
smack!
Your handprint remains on Caleb's face where you slapped him; your fingernails leaving a thin trace of blood, particularly striking on his handsome features. "Get out." "Y/N-" "Get the FUCK out or I will."
You don't even wait for him to make a decision - you stumble out of the room without looking back.
T - 3 days You collapse onto the bed when you get home, your body still throbbing with pain. Mrs. Chen calls you for dinner, but you're too exhausted to move. "Bring it in," say. Except for the initial period after your accident when you were bed-bound, you never got into the habit of eating in bed. You cherished your home with Caleb so much that you couldn't bear to see anything dirty or out of place. Looking back, you laugh at your stupid thinking. What good is a house if you don't use it?Â
After you finish eating, Mrs. Chen takes the plate away and asks if you want to take a bath. You nod. "Please run me some water, and then change the bedding to clean ones." "Okay." She leaves to start running the water.
You try to get out of bed and make your way to the bath yourself, but after only a few steps, your legs feel weak. Your body's overexertion and emotional outburst from earlier don't make your condition any better. Mrs. Chen comes back out and is worried to see your trembling, unstable figure. "Madam, shall I help you?" You take a deep breath and nod. She helps you to the bathroom and didn't let go until you're comfortably seated in the bathtub. "Thank you," you say.Â
You lean back, the warm water soothing every inch of your skin, easing the soreness and making you feel much more comfortable. After a while, the water cools, and you call for Mrs. Chen again. You still don't want to open your eyes. Â
Footsteps approach and stop at the edge of the bathtub, but you hear no movement afterwards. You frown. "Mrs. Chen..." You open your eyes to see Caleb. "Why are you here?" You're startled, instinctively covering any part of your body above the water. "Get out!" You call loudly for Mrs. Chen. "Mrs. Chen won't come in." He looks down at you, his gaze deep. "Mrs. Chen!" you continue to call, unwilling to give up. "You think Mrs. Chen is going to listen to you, or the person who pays her salary? He leans down, his face suddenly very close to yours, so close that you can clearly see his bloodshot eyes and your own reflection in his pupils. "What exactly do you want?" You grip the edge of the bathtub tightly, your defenses fully raised.
He reaches into the soapy water, grabbing your shoulders and lifting you entirely out of the tub. You feel a chill run down your spine. This is the first time you've been completely exposed in front of Caleb. Humiliation and panic overwhelms you in an instant. "Let go of me, you dirty bastard!" You begin to struggle in his arms, but it's an useless endeavor. âIf you want to fall and get hurt, then keep being stubborn!â His deep voice carries a threatening tone. You come to your senses and slowly stop. You can't risk getting hurt now. You're leaving in a couple days. You can't afford to have any more accidents.
âNot moving anymore?â he asks, revealing no emotion. âCaleb Xia, don't make me hate you.â You say. He gives you a bitter smile. âDon't you hate me enough already?â You remain silent. Your relationship with Caleb has indeed reached a point of no return.
He snorts coldly, wrapping you in a bath towel, and walks out of the bathroom back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed. He sits you on the edge and goes back, reappearing with a hairdryer. As he plugs it in, blowing hot air into your wet hair, you're momentarily stunned. What's he trying to do? Apologize? Make it up to you? Or is it just all for MC again? The only sound in the room is the roar of the hairdryer; neither of you speak. After he finishes, he rummages through the bedside drawer, clumsily tying your hair up into a knot.Â
Several bruises on the top of your back and shoulders from falling reveal themselves He stares at them for a moment, then forcefully rips away the towel wrapped around you. "Look at yourself! What are you doing to yourself these days, doing that stupid rehab?!" What does this have to do with him at all? You quickly pull the blanket back over herself, glaring at him with hostility. "Caleb, believe me, I really will kill you." He sits down opposite from you, his eyes filled with sarcasm. "We've been married for five years, and this is your attitude when I try to touch you?"
What else does he expect? What attitude should you have?
You smile mockingly. "Caleb, I told you. Your hands are dirty. Also, if you touch me, aren't you afraid your Pipsqueak will be heartbroken?" He doesn't reply, only pushing you down onto the bed, but doesn't move to pull away the blanket. You feel his warm hand on your calf. He's massaging your scars again? You give up struggling, already somewhat familiar with his methods. Unsolicited kindness is always suspicious; he must want something from you. He continues applying ointment to your bruises, from your leg up to your arms, then your back. Once he's done, he covers you with a blanket, meeting your cold gaze. You look at him with no hint of gratefulness, just waiting. He tucks you in more tightly, forcing a bitter smile. "Y/N, how did we get to this point?"
He's asking you why things had come to this? Didn't he know?
He sighs deeply. "Y/N, let's talk about this calmly." You consider it for a moment. Since MC appeared, you've always been calm, never wavering. It's him, on the other hand, who was always emotional because of MC. âCaleb Xia, I donât know what we have to talk about anymore,â you say indifferently. âIâve already made myself clear.â Caleb's hand reaches under the covers to find your hand and grasps it tightly. âY/N, I didnât want this. From the beginning until now, I swear I've been sincere in wanting to live a good life with you.â âIs that so?â you sneer. âFrom the beginning? Didn't you think I was a venomous woman who used a self-inflicted injury to force you to marry me?â
Caleb closes his eyes, remaining silent for a long time. âColonel Xia,â you smile, âPlease let go of my hand and get me a bottle of disinfectantâ When Caleb opens his eyes, the bloodshot veins are particularly noticeable. He doesn't ask why, just gets up to fetch it, and hands it to you.
You prop yourself up on the bed, and begins methodically spraying it on your hands, arms, legs, stomach, backâeverywhere he had just touched. Caleb's expression instantly changes. "What are you doing?" "I'm disinfecting myself. I told you, your hands are dirty." You finish spraying and calmly place the alcohol bottle on the bedside table. "YouâŚ" Caleb is aggravated again. You simply turn over and lie down to sleep.
After a while, Caleb finally speaks to you again, his voice soft. "We've been married for five years. In these five years, I haven't wronged you, have I?" Five years... your heart clenches. You don't want to look back on the past five years. "I'm so grateful to you for saving me back then, and for giving me a chance to atone. For the past five years, I've given you everything I could. So can you do just one more thing? If you agree to this favor, I'll do anything you ask from now on." Here it comesâŚ
"You want me to drop the case and reconcile with MC and your two cronies?" You cut to the chase.
T - 2 days Yes," Caleb says, his voice utterly broken. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I have to protect MC. She was the only light in the darkest moments of my life." Your heart sinks to the bottom of the ocean. What in the world is Caleb thinking? Telling his lawful wife that another woman is his only light, and expecting you to help him?
"Y/N," he continues, "you know that my grandmother was the most important person in my life. MC was good friends with Zayne, an upperclassman whose parents were doctors. Through her connections was how my grandma was able to get treatment after she fell ill. One evening, when I visited Grandma, there was a bottle of origami cranes beside her pillow. The nurse said it was a gift from a volunteer. They said that with the blessing of a thousand cranes, Grandma would definitely recover. Caleb chokes up a little. "Grandma didn't recover. The blessing of a thousand origami cranes only stayed a myth. But Y/N, do you understand the loneliness of that time when my world was completely dark, and I was struggling to bear everything alone? The girl who helped me share the burden while I was taking care of Grandma, the girl who lit up my dark world with origami cranes, was MC. I thought I would never see her again after she left, but she ended up coming back to me. I'm sorry Y/N. No matter what kind of person MC is, in my heart, she will always be that light." You listen silently, finally unable to help but smile.
Caleb Xia, are you really sure that the girl who folded the origami cranes was MC?
T - 1 day What was it like to have a crush on someone in your youth?
It was having your heart feel empty when he didn't come to class; even though there was only one empty seat, the whole world became hollow; It was the world suddenly brightening when he steps into the classroom. The sunlight outside the window shining like gold, but it couldn't possibly compare to the radiance surrounding him at that moment. It was when his smile warmed your heart, and when he frowned, your heart clenched; It was the satisfaction in watching him from afar, letting time quietly slip by, wanting to give your everything to him but not wanting him to knowâŚ
That year, when you learned that the weariness and pain Caleb tried so hard to hide was because his grandmother was seriously ill and hospitalized, every weekend, you'd wear a mask and get up before dawn every morning, catch the bus to the hospital, and help his grandma with breakfast and keep her company. You lied about your identity every time, simply saying you were a volunteer. You weren't sure if paper cranes could actually make wishes come true, but being young and full of sincere wishes, you secretly folded a bottle full of paper cranes for his grandmother. There certainly weren't a thousand total, but the bottle was full. It took you a long time folding, and you wrote a blessing on each piece of paper before carefully folding it inside. While wishing Caleb's grandmother a speedy recovery, you also prayed for her own grandparents' health.
At that time, you felt that you and Caleb had so much in common. None of your parents were in the picture. You both depended on their grandparents' for survival. You were both struggling to grow up against the odds, trying your best to maintain your lives, your pride, and self-respect. You once thought that you and Caleb were like two trees growing side by side, far apart, your branches never intersecting in the air, yet your roots in the soil were always tightly intertwined.
In the end, you've been deluding yourself.
You just smile without speaking or explaining anything to him. If it were before, perhaps you would have explained to him that you were the volunteer. But now, there is truly no need.
You traded your leg for his life, saving him from being run over by a car. If in his eyes, it was all a ploy, a way to trick him into marrying you, then what would the origami cranes you folded all those years ago mean to him? Were they, like the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival, just a means to woo him as well? Even if he didn't think of you as so calculating and despicable, what difference would it make?
He simply doesn't love you. You've tried for five years already. The fact is, you saved his life. Regardless of his motives for marrying you, the end result is the same: he doesn't love you. So why add another layer of trouble? You've known him since you were twelve. 15 years now. If love could truly change people, you would have done so long ago. The truth is, no matter what you did for him, it wouldn't change a thing.
Besides, you already have a clear future and plans. You'll cut ties completely with this person and stop this entanglement for once and for all. Only a smile remains on your face. A smile that is both laughable and pathetic.
"What are you laughing at?" Caleb was probably lost in his own memories, so it's understandable that he felt a bit resentful that his heartfelt story is met with nothing but a laugh. You lower your eyes, a faint smile still on your lips. "It's nothing, I'm just very touched. I'll do as you wish under one condition." He looks at you expectantly. "I'll have my lawyer send over some papers. At long as you sign them, MC is off the hook." "You... really?" Caleb isn't sure if you're being sarcastic.
"I'm serious." You lie on the bed, looking up at him, the faint sadness in your eyes gone, replaced by a genuine smile. "I wish you a long and life."
T - 0 days When Caleb leaves this morning, he tells you to wait for him at home, the same as usual. However, he lingers at the door for a minute longer, gazing at you with eyes filled with an unfamiliar emotion. There's no point thinking about it anymore. Nothing in the world will convince Caleb Xia that his wife would want to leave him.
Will he realize you're truly gone when he sees the empty closet? It won't matter if he doesn't; your letter, the lawyer, and the divorce papers will tell him. You look back one last time at the home you lived in for five years.
You write one last line in your notebook: "0 days until I leave Caleb Xia: Goodbye, I'm going to fly higher."
You turn off the lights and close the door.
You stick a paper crane on the door; let this paper crane wait for him in your place; perhaps, it will tell him the answer.
***
T + 6 days: Caleb feels like he's actually gone insane. The first night you don't come home, he plays it off as another one of your temper outbursts. Afterall, the paper crane on the door was your way of mocking his past with MC, wasn't it?. The second night he blows up your phone. Nothing goes through. By the third day, he is contacted by your lawyer with the divorce papers prepared and already signed by you. You ask for none of his assets and no compensation. He nearly destroys the office table in anger. After another two days to calm down, the panic and unease in his chest grow to new lengths. He stalks the entire city. Tries going after your telephone records, search history. He finds your preparation to leave him starting long, long before he suspected anything out of the ordinary. He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to laugh at the pathetic sight before him. He can't possibly go to work in this state, so he turns around to go home instead.Â
He takes a shower and sits in the chair in your bedroom, lost in thought. This is the chair you used to sit in. You'd sit here watching dramas, reading, oh right, probably studying how to get away form him too. Your belongings are still on the table: pens in the pen holder, and several books you read, the most recent being art history, lying on the desk. Fiddling with the paper crane.
He opened a drawer, which was also full of books. Digging through its contents, he finds a notebook. He pulls it out and opens it. The contents read: Countdown to leaving Caleb Xia. T - 22 days: The jewelry he gave me were all mementos of someone else. T - 11 days: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?
His eyes sting.
"I don't even want this person anymoreâŚ" So, from that moment on, you truly wanted a divorce. Every time you brought it up, it was from the heart. It wasn't a tactic to keep him, nor was it a way to force MC to leave. You genuinely wanted to leave himâŚ
Looking further, you had recorded every single thought that, in the month before you left, seemed trivial to him. With each passing day, your heart seemed to die a little more. He lowers his head, forehead resting on the notebook. His eyes ache terribly. In those 20-odd days, if he had even a few moments of empathy, if he had considered things from your perspective, he might have still had a chance to salvage the relationship. But he didn't. He went down a path of no return, finally leading to a complete break between you.
He thought you would never leave him, never leave this home, which is why he stood on MC's side time and time again. He thought, "She's my wife, she's family, she'll never leave. No matter when I come back, she'll be waiting at home..." You loved him so much, you've liked him since high school, even risked your life for him. How could he have believed that you really wanted to divorce him?
T + 24 days: Caleb sighs, a bitter smile on his face. He doesn't know what was wrong with him; why everything had been so bitter lately. The food he eats taste bitter, the water tastes bitter, even the air around him seems to carry a faint bitterness.
That afternoon, Liam comes to his office, inviting him out to dinner with Gideon. Sitting behind his desk, Caleb feels listless. "Forget it, I'm too tired. You guys go ahead, I'll cover it." "Colonel," Liam protests, before switching to addressing him by name. "Caleb. Do you think I'm starving? I can see you're unhappy these days, and I figured getting together with you and Gideon would allow you to have some fun. Caleb shakes his head, hating how his hairs bristled at the mention of his friend. "I hate crowds, forget it."
"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon pops in, looking at him, his eyes filled with worry. "You used to love being with your brothers, having fun together. As long as the crew is together, your worries would disappear. I can invite MC along too, she'll make you feel better." Caleb freezes. What is wrong? He didn't know what was wrong either. It's just an instinctive reaction; he didn't want to go.
Later, at the bar, Caleb is still trying to think of why he feels uncomfortable. "Maybe... I'm getting old?" As you get older, you grow weary of crowds and want to be alone in peace and quiet. Liam laughs. "You're old? You...you're old? What am I then?" Well, if not, then Caleb couldn't find a reason.
"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon sighs. "We all know you didn't want to marry Y/N in the first place. You didn't love her. Isn't it better that you're getting a divorce now?" "Yeah..." Caleb's eyes glaze over. "Isn't it supposed to be better? But, Gideon, why am I not okay? I'm really not okay at all." "Is it just that you've gotten used to it? It's hard to let go of someone suddenly in your life, like when I had a dog when I was little. I had it for years, and one day it got into an accident and passed. I cried for a long time." Liam tries to help. Caleb shakes his head. "That's not how it works, Liam. Didn't you love your dog? You cried." Liam is stumped. "Oh, right. I definitely loved it."
All three of them fall silent.
Liam thinks for a long time before slowly saying, "Caleb, you didn't fall in love with Y/N, did you?" Caleb feels as if he's been struck on the head. He had never considered this question before. "Let me ask you this," Liam continues, "you're single now, right? If you had two choices: one, go back to Y/N, and she'd still be your Mrs. Xia; two, marry MC. You could marry MC if you want to! Which would you choose if you had these two options in front of you?" Caleb doesn't hesitate at all. "Liam, what are you saying? When did I ever plan to marry MC? Since she came back, the thought of marrying her never even crossed my mind!" Liam is stunned. "I literally thought MC was your wife the first day you brought her to the headquarters! Wasn't it because you had Y/N before? Now that you're divorced, you're still not considering MC?" "Liam, MC and I are a thing of the past," Caleb says with a small laugh, "What are you thinking?" "Then, why are you so good to her?" he stammers. "Am I not good to you?" Caleb retorts. "Am I not good to Gideon?" "Then...how...can this be comparable?" Liam didn't know what to say. "How is it different? The two of you are my brothers since we were trainees at the DAA, and we've all worked our way up to our positions now. When MC was with me, she was still a high schooler, encouraging me on when I was was nothing but a new recruit. She didn't get to reap any of the benefits of that work, she had a hard time abroad. Of course I have to pamper her when she comes back, she's my little sister, right, Gideon?" "Uhhh.... Anyway..." Liam thought it was VERY different.
"Of course it's different!" A voice booms from behind. It's Yvette. Liam quickly stands up. "Darling, why are you here?" "I came to see what nonsense you're spouting, you idiot!" Yvette's face darkens. "You guys are still talking about that two-faced bitch?" "No...wife, please... don't say such nonsense. How could MC be two-faced?" Liam quickly looks at Caleb, fearing for his job. âTry saying another word for herâ Yvette points at Liam's nose, as if she's about to slap him into oblivion âNo, I wonât say anything⌠I wonâtâŚâ Yvette's anger finally subsides. âLetâs go home!â
Liam hesitates. âDarling, how about we have dinner with the Colonel today?â âNo way!â Yvette's temper flares again, pointing at Liam once more âI donât hang out with your kind of people! Youâre going home to eat too! He deserves it! Heâs not worth wasting time on!â Liam looks troubled, hoping his wife would show some mercy.
Strangely, Caleb doesn't seem offended at all. He asks Yvette with a smile, "What kind of person am I?"
Yvette turns to look at him, scoffing. "I didn't want to talk about you, because you scumbags and bitches get angry and it's bad for my baby. I don't want my baby to see the ugliness of this world while still in my belly. But since you're asking like this, I've changed my mind." Liam sweats profusely. "My darling, no, let's just let our baby grow peacefully. Don't change your mind." "No!" Yvette declares. "I've decided to teach our baby to distinguish right from wrong!"
She turns to face Caleb again. "Colonel Xia, I'm not trying to be mean, but stop acting like you're some sort of saint. What's with all this talk about MC being there for you when you were down on your luck, about her suffering abroad and wanting to compensate her? Is it so hard to admit you're a cheater? Aren't you just trying to cover up the fact that you're greedy and have always looked for something better?" Caleb's face turns ashen. "I didn't, MC and I didn't..." Yvette's spirit is still high. "I don't give a fuck if you and MC slept together or not! That's not my business. I only care about Liam! But Caleb, this isn't about physical cheating!"
Liam is getting increasingly anxious hearing his wife absolutely tear through his boss without any restraint. Was this something she could just casually say? Out in public?? He immediately covers her mouth. "Let her talk!" Caleb's expression darkens.
"I'll say it!" Yvette slaps away Liam's hand. "Colonel Xia! I told you you're a cheater! The ultimate scumbag! You enjoyed Y/N's wholehearted love while flirting with MC under the guise of "taking care of a sister? What brother buys you a house, bags, and luxury goods? What kind of siblings share a room together while out on a business trip? Oh right, Liam used to get that privilege when you were cadets, but is the stuff in your brain the same shade when you sleep with MC?!" Liam tries really hard not to laugh. "The stuff in your brain isn't the same color"? His wife's mouth was really something⌠But then again, even he didn't believe Caleb and MC's brains were pure when they were togetherâŚ
"What are you laughing at?" Yvette turns around to scold her husband. "Your boss doesn't have a brain, it's filled with tofu! You think you're so great? Yours is filled with tofu dregs!" "Darling, please;;; if you want to scold me, let's go back home to do it" "Let me finish!" Yvette hadn't wanted to say all of this, but since she was asked to, she wouldn't be happy until she was finished. She glares at Caleb. "With your filthy thoughts, ask yourself, with your non-existent conscience, when you sided with MC again and again like no tomorrow, wasn't your heart soaring? Like you were back in your youth! Wasn't that right? An old man like you, suddenly rediscovering the feeling of pure love, wasn't your life full of passion? And then what? Clearly, you were emotionally unfaithful, I don't know if your filthy body has cheated on her! But whether it's emotional or physical, it's still cheating! And yet you still insist that there is nothing between you and MC. Caleb Xia, if you openly admit to cheating, I'd respect you as a man. But to cheat and then pretend to be deeply in love, I can only give you one word: scumbag! No, add another: despicable! Finally done, she glares at Liam, "Aren't you leaving?" "Oh, oh, oh." Liam apologizes to Caleb with his eyes, quickly removing himself from the premise.
T + 25Â days Caleb checks his personal set of security cameras at work. You weren't lying. MC is clearly seen talking to the secretary, putting the apple juice in her hands. Gideon walks in, and Caleb slams his laptop shut. "Colonel?" A shudder runs down his spine as he meets Caleb's dark gaze.Â
T + 31 days Yvette's brutal words live rent free in Caleb's head.
Five years ago, when MC first left, it was during a period of setbacks for him. He spent his entire youth preparing to get into the DAA. But now that he was there, he realized with a start that he, a small town boy, was so woefully unprepared compared to his peers. Years of hard work were on the verge of being wasted. He had a habit of shutting others out when he was struggling. MC knew it. And did her best to call him out of her own accord, always checking in, trying to make him feel better. But it came the day she couldn't take it anymore. She up and left him, cutting off all communications suddenly. He wasn't stupid; of course he knew the reason why. However, he also had the self-awareness not to drag her down with him. Later, he heard that a wealthy second-generation heir had gone abroad with her.
He knew all of it.
His depression during that period was partly due to the breakup, and partly due to his career setbacksâa mixed bag. He got drunk sometimes, but not entirely out of despair. Most of the time, it was from entertaining his peers, or trying to network with higher-ups, practically begging and pleading for a chance. However, the night you saved him, he was truly heartbroken. He had faced rejection after rejection, losing all confidence and almost giving up. Then you saved him, trading your leg for his rebirth.
From that moment on, he carried the weight of another person's life on his shoulders. It was at that moment that he told himself: I absolutely cannot give up, I cannot give up. There are still people waiting for me to take responsibility for, waiting for me to support them.
Fate can be truly miraculous sometimes. It was after that car accident that things suddenly took a turn for the better. When you got discharged from the hospital, it was also the time his performance soared. After that, his missions only ever returned successful. Offers and promotions came in waves, and his power increased exponentially.Â
And then, MC returned.
Somewhere deep in his heart, he faced her with resentment and bitterness, thinking: "The person you looked down on back then has now made it big, standing proudly before you. How do you feel?" He would never admit it though. Just like the necklace of MC's dreams. The first birthday he spent with you, he thought to himself, "so what? The decorations MC liked, the style she fawned over, I've given them all to another girl. I can afford to do so." So, five years later, when MC returned, he carried this resentment, enjoying her adoration and affection, feeling a childish satisfaction. The person who abandoned him back then was now obediently fawning over him, trying to please him, and the resentment in his heart finally subsided.
But the scales in his heart had been tipped.
Just as Yvette said, he despicably indulged in two relationships, becoming lost in this ambiguity. He basked in MCs adoration and retaliated by showering her with affection and indulgence, as if this would prove to his former, down-on-his-luck self: I've made it big, I'm omnipotent. He never even considered it love or lack thereof. He simply wanted to frantically prove to MC his power, his influence, that he could spoil a woman to the extreme if he wanted.
Of course, in doing so, he hurt you.
But at that time, he didn't think about any of that; he was simply gradually losing himself in his relationship with MC. He explained to you that he was only remembering MC's kindness from when she made the paper cranes and that nothing ever happened between them. Perhaps this reason held some semblance of validity? He always needed a plausible excuse to mask his dark and despicable psychology. But it was also true. He could do anything for MC, except betray you âby betraying you, he meant maintaining boundaries and not doing anything physically inappropriate.
But Yvette said that emotional infidelity also counts as infidelity. Does it? Did he cheat on you? He wasn't sure himself. He couldn't distinguish whether his feelings for MC were of resentment or love.
The only thing he was certain of was that you loved him, loved him to the point of self-sacrifice. So, no matter how his heart swayed, you would always be his Mrs. Xia, and that would never change.
That day after he told you the story about the paper cranes, MC tried to embrace him from behind at work. In that moment, he realized: he couldn't possibly cross any physical boundaries with her. His destiny belonged to you. That night, he wanted to see you more than ever. So, he returned without delay, even before dinnertime. But you were already gone.
So even you could leave him tooâŚ
Even with the wealth and luxury and everything he could give you, you could still abandon it so easily. That's right, he laughs at himself, why would you care about money? That silly girl who used to live frugally, worrying about his financial situation, trying to pay him $5 for every math problem he tutored you in - how could you care about money?
He was wrong⌠He'd been too arrogant for too long, forgetting the path he'd come from, neglecting the most important person in his world. How ridiculous, only realizing you were the most important person after losing you.
And before that?
It seemed everything came before you. Work was more important than you, because he needed to develop his career, earn money, and support you for life; His pride was more important than you, so he absolutely couldn't lose face in front of MC, forcing you to apologize, even though you were never actually in the wrong.
His thinking was simple: even if he had wronged you, it wouldn't matter. You loved him so much; all he had to do was sweet talk and make it back up to you. In fact, many times, between you and MC, he chose to side with MC simply because he knew you would forgive himâŚ
But you didn't. You wouldn't forgive him forever, nor would you wait for him forever.
T + 52Â days: Liam stops by Caleb's office. It's past midnight. "Colonel..." he starts, stiffening as Caleb's dead gaze shifts onto him from the screen. "You've been here for the past 5 days straight. I think... you should go home now..." Home? Caleb laughs, a hollow sound, devoid of any positive emotion. Where would he go now? What is home to him?
He admits that in the past five years, he didn't love going home as much.
Mainly, when he first got married, he was afraid to go home and face you, your overwhelming love, and your injury. Guilt and remorse weighed on his heart like a brick, so much so that he couldn't even be intimate with you. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but just seeing your leg overwhelmed him with guilt, making it impossible to continue. And this created a vicious cycle: the greater the psychological pressure, the less he tried, and the less he tried, the greater the pressure⌠He even saw a therapist for some time, but it didn't help. Over time, he became increasingly adverse to returning home to see you, and staying at his office until midnight.
He had many excuses: logistics, planning, meetings with important stakeholders, out on missions, and most often, just being busy with work. He did indeed spend most of his time working, but no matter how late, he always had a direction in his heartâhome. Whether it was his conscience or something else, going home every night was a routine, just like his work.
And now, his home was still there, but he didn't know where he should go after you left.
He always told himself that it was his responsibility to be good to you for the rest of his life, but he didn't even know when it started to become more than just a responsibility. It turned out that when the girl who always smiled at him like a sunflower was no longer there, home was no longer home, and going home lost its meaning.
But you had promised him that you would never leave him, whether in poverty or wealth; you had promised him that you would leave a light on for him no matter how late he came home. He truly believed that this light would illuminate him forever, so he gradually took advantage of you, until ultimately, he became the one who extinguished it.
T + 93 days Caleb's phone rings. Looking down, it's Zayne. âCaleb, what's up? I can't come out for dinner, but feel free to talk on the phone. I'm busy, I have to work overtime.â âOhâŚâ he says wistfully, âThen it's nothing.â He just had nowhere else to go and wanted to find a place to talk about the past, about people he once knew.
âOh, by the way, do you remember Sylus Qin?â Zayne suddenly askes.
âI rememberâŚâ A name that wasn't so pleasant. âHe's gone.â Caleb is taken aback. "Gone?" "He passed away. He actually passed a while ago, abroad." Zayne sighs. "It was an accident, don't tell Y/N." He's... gone?
A voice echoes in Caleb's mind again: "Hey, Caleb, that Y/NÂ from your class..." "Get lost!"
Zayne remembers something else. "Oh, right, you can't tell Y/N anyway, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to dinner and rambling on and on about your past." Caleb remains silent. Lately, he keeps dreaming about when he was sixteen or seventeen, so he would occasionally chat with Zayne about it. Zayne only ever told him the same thing: "Only those who are unhappy reminisce about the past; those who are full of vigor only stride forward. Caleb, let Y/N go. She deserves a better future."
Caleb feels a sudden, sharp pain in his heart, and his vision blurs. Now, he couldn't let it go even if he wanted to⌠But he had no right to not let it goâŚ
âZayne,â he says in a barely suppressed voice, âI regret it so muchâŚâ The more spirited and arrogant he had three months ago, the more desolate and regretful he feels now.
âCaleb Xia,â Zayne sneers on the other end, âYou deserve it. Don't play victim with me now, look at your sordid affairs. How to spoke to her in front of me, in front of everyone else? You think none of us notice? How you had absolutely no respect for your ex-wife as a person?" âZayne, I can'tâŚâ Before he can finish speaking, Zayne hangs up the phone. Caleb immediately dials him back.
After the third call, Zayne picks up again. A long silence ensues, until Zayne asks him, "Anything else to say? If not, I'm hanging up. I'm busy!" Caleb chokes for a moment before finally saying, "Zayne, if I said I love Y/N, would you believe me?"
"Bullshit!" Zayne curses, a rare occurrence. "Stop your pretentious nonsense! You don't love anyone but yourself; you're a selfish, self-serving piece of shit. Ask yourself honestly, who do you truly love? Whether was your mistress or Y/N, you only love whoever you need. Did you really even love MC or only what her reactions gave you? I wouldn't have cursed you if you hadn't said that, but hearing you say it out loud disgusts me! You bastard!"
T + 136 Days Caleb goes back to his hometown. Somewhere he hasn't been in many years. He traces the steps he once took to school, watching teenagers shout happily as they play with each other. Somehow, he finds himself in front of Sylus'Â house. To pay respects, he tells himself. He hesitates for another second before bringing his hand up to knock on the door.Â
Two young men greet him. They can't be much older than 20. They stare at Caleb with the same, beady eyes. "Who are you?" "An old classmate of Sylus." He offers, taking his high school yearbook out from his backpack as proof. "We played soccer together. I know its a few years late, but I wanted to come pay my respects." The twins lead him down to the basement, where many boxes of Sylus' belongings remained. Caleb flips through old textbooks and worksheets, jerseys and field-day awards, CDs and comic books from their youth. Something small and pink falls out from a book in his hands.Â
He bends over to pick it up: a single paper crane
Paper cranes? He picked up the fallen origami bird, its image overlapping with his memories of paper cranes. The page he turned to was a tutorial on how to fold paper cranes. Sylus had written notes on it with a pen. "Some silly girl is folding paper cranes for that Xia boy, and she won't let me help! How long will it take for her to fill that jar? Silly girl!" "Haha! I secretly stole one from her pile! Mischievous act of the day complete!" "Hehe, this silly girl writes something inside every single paper crane. I wonder what she wrote on the one I stole?"
"Written something?" Caleb frowns, picking up the paper crane from the ground and quickly unfolds it. Sure enough, there's a small line of writing inside:Â 'No matter what happens, you must be happy!'
Caleb's mind goes blank for a moment. He reads the words on the page again, then turns and runs. The noise he makes downstairs alerts the twins, who ask him if everything was alright. "Sorry Luke, Kieran. I have important work to do. I have to go back," Caleb says urgently, bidding farewell to the boys. He drives nonstop to Skyhaven, taking the stairs to the top floor and enters his office. He opens his desk drawer. Inside is a small glass box containing a paper crane.
He had buried all the other paper cranes with his grandmother, leaving only this one as a keepsake. The unfolded paper crane he had taken from Sylus' house lies open on his desk. The handwriting was all too familiar to himâyours. The other paper crane, which he had kept in the small glass box, was clearly made of the same paper but a different color.
He takes a deep breath, and without further delay, unfolds it with trembling fingers.
The orange paper crane reveals writing on it as well. This one reads: Grandma, you must recover. Caleb only has you. The same handwriting. The way you write is distinctive, always rounded and plump, with a kind of innocent charm, completely different from MC's. Looking at these words, his heart sinks as if it's been chained to an iron anchor, falling lower and lower into a bottomless abyss.
He had lost far more than he imaginedâŚ
Folding the two pieces of paper together, he finally breaks down in tears. Y/N, I'm sorry⌠He sits in his office, the whole world utterly silent.
If this were the end of time, how wonderful that would be; he no longer looked forward to waking with the sun the next day⌠But he could only stay awake, waiting for the night to pass. But the nights are too long. His life is only darkness now.
T + 613Â days You carefully make your way onto the stage, eyes momentarily blinded by the sharp glare of stage lights. The applause is thunderous as a bouquet of flowers are presented to you from the dancers. Your thesis project, a fully choreographed piece, was being performed on stage by a full cast for the first time. You insisted on giving yourself a very small role, just a few small steps in the beginning as your leg continues to heal, but it was already more than enough to fill your heart as tears of joy threaten to spill from your eyes.Â
Caleb watches your brilliant smile on his phone, in the darkness of his room. It's true that in the 1800 nights he was married to you, he has only wished you the best. Now you're out there, accomplishing your dreams. How much he wishes to be able to proudly say, "that's my Y/N!". But he cannot. Not now. Not that he ever had the right to say it. He reads the comments on the live stream religiously and replays your small segment of dance over and over until his vision blurs.Â
Tonight, Caleb dreams of high school.
Back then, all of you were naive and full of youthful exuberance. It was a time of awkwardness and passion, everything direct and intense.
He dreams of Rafayel Shen. Rafayel loved to draw. Caleb had found Rafayel sketching you in the middle of class, and tore up his drawing after school. The two ended up having a fight, still a sore spot in their relationship to this day.
He dreams of Sylus Qin. They were playing soccer together, and you would watch them play from the most inconspicuous spot in the cheerleading squad on the playground, always leaving silently afterward. Sylus puts his arm around Caleb's shoulder, his gaze fixed on your retreating figure. "Hey, Y/N from your class looks real sweet." The young boy instantly knews what the other was up to, coldly announcing, "Get lost, I won't hesitate to beat you up if you mess with her.
Some boys would try to slip confession letters into your locker. You never received any, because Caleb always stopped them. Some boys would put treats in your desk. You never got to eat any, because Caleb always kept them for you, glaring at all the other boys in warning. It was once a childish but pure love, as bright and clear as morning dew.
Why did it change like this?
Caleb is lost in his dreams, unable to find the answer. He lost you.
He meets Zayne and ask him why you were missing. Zayne simply says, "Caleb Xia, you scumbag." He meets Rafayel, who grabs him by the collar, and the two get into a brawl. He meets Sylus, who smiles and says, "You bullied her, so I hid her. You'll never find her now." He sees many, many people, but you are nowhere to be foundâŚ
"Caleb!" A clear voice suddenly rings out behind him.
He turns around and sees a girl with a bright smile perform several somersaults, appearing before him.
"Y/N!" He opens his eyes, but all he sees is an empty ceiling. He lies on the bed, his phone still clutched in his hand, battery dead.
A dream.
His Y/N is gone forever.
Tag list: @quill-for-glory, @flameo-hotman, @chyukiz, @royale-skeleton-key, @placeofsupercooltopics, @madnesslusy, @kiwiwiiiwiwiw, @younghideoutberserker
side note iâm loving how zayne calls us çĺŚ in this event LIKE bites my finger YESS LAWRDDDD
EIGHTY FIVE PULLS FOR HAIR INFOLD YOU SCAMMERRRRRRR WHY ARE THEY SEPARATE
LADS February Banner Hcs
this post has been a long time coming, me and @an-ari came up with a "cdrama/ancient china" au forever ago and when i heard that LADS was gonna be releasing an "ancient china" themed banner in february i wanted to unveil everything we came up with together :)) this was supposed to come out before the trailer but life got in the way but if anything in the cards is even remotely similar to what's on here, just know that Infold totally looked into my Google Drive and took our ideas (despite the fact that MC's not an Empress in the official banner rip) 10k words
Background:
It is the dawn of a new dynasty in Not-China-But-Obviously-China. The noble Empress Dowagerâyour beloved grandmother, ZhÄng SĂš (Josephine)âhas at last succumbed to her old age, and you, her chosen heir, now ascend the throne. The nation bows to your will, yet the court teems with vipers: schemers and opportunists eager to see your reign cut tragically short.
Trust is a rare and precious thing. Among the few you hold close are your attendants and dearest confidantesâJenna, Tara, and Simone; your palace physicians, Dr. Noah, Greyson, and Yvonne; and the steadfast officials of Neroâs faction.
These are treacherous times, made more trying by the relentless pressure for you to take a husband. Courtiers parade their favored candidates before you, each match drenched in flattery and political ambition, hoping to guide your hand through what they mistake for youthful folly. You dismiss them all. Your heart has already been claimedâby one such individual whose voice makes your soul tremble and whose yearning will one day shake the heavens for you.
+:â :+*âââââââ*+:â :+*âââââââ*+:â :+*
Xavier, The Runaway Prince:
He didnât enter your life so much as you stumbled into his.
You were still a princess then, when your grandmother had sent you deep into the mountains to learn the art of cultivation, to protect your qi force against demonic energy (more on that later).
You traveled with an entourage until you reached the fabled Temple where the best cultivators in the land gathered and studied the art diligently.Â
Upon your arrival, you wander through the Templeâs lush, untamed grounds until the sound of rushing water draws you to a great waterfall.Â
However, when you try to get a closer look, you trip over something. You look back and realize that âsomethingâ is actually a pair of legs attached to a still body and delicate face.
The man lies there, fast asleep, peaceful despite the roaring falls, cradling his sword in his arms.
He stirs when you lean in to examine his youthful features, and you see his eyes, a deep blue like the night sky.
Your first interaction is less than ideal. Heâs incredibly stand-offish, chastising you for disrupting his nap and showing absolutely no respect for your status. Thoroughly offended, you march back to the Temple in a foul mood.
You later retell the story of this encounter to one of the sectâs more friendly high-ranking disciples, Jeremiah. He struggles to hold back his laughter as he explains that the rude, lazy disciple you met was none other than Xavier, the Templeâs Head Disciple.
The same one who will serve as your teacher.
You are, understandably, not thrilled by this revelation, but Jeremiah is quick to reassure you that there is no one better suited to guide you on the path of cultivation.
What he failed to mention is just how strict Xavier is. Despite looking no older than you, he criticized your form without mercy and buried you under endless stacks of scriptures to copy. When you finally asked why any of this is necessary, he answered simply that this is how he learned.
You had very nearly written an angry letter to your grandmotherâcomplaining about your teacher, begging her to let you come home early. You had even imagined the words, sharp and indignant. But in the end, you held yourself back. You were not one to retreat from a challenge.
You would succeed in spite of him, not because of him.
That resolve was tested on one of your treks up the mountain, a heavy bundle of firewood strapped to your back for the Temple. Your âteacherâ walked far ahead, urging you onward, though his own load hardly compared to the weight you bore. Each step burned, your legs trembling against the incline.
Suddenly, Xavier halted.
You took this opportunity to catch up with him, but noticed that he hadnât been waiting for you. His head was tilted slightly, listening to the wind itself.
Before you could ask what was wrong, he spoke sharply. âCover your head.â
You were halfway through a confused question when something massive dropped onto the path ahead, shaking the ground beneath your feet. A grotesque, hulking demon rose before you, blocking the narrow trail.
Xavierâs sword was in his hand in an instant. He leapt forward, steel flashing as he met the creature head-on.
Terror seized you. You had never seen a real demon before. Panic overwhelmed training, and you turned to flee back down the mountainâonly to freeze as a smaller demon crawled into view, cutting off your escape.
Your hand trembled as you drew your sword. The bundle on your back dragged your center of gravity off balance, the weight threatening to pull you over with every movement. You had to watch your footing as much as the demon, one misstep from a fatal fall.
You risked a glance over your shoulder.
Xavier was barely visibleâmoving so swiftly, so fluidly, that he seemed more blur than man, completely fused with his blade. The sight stole your attention for a heartbeat too long as the demon pounced on you.
You barely reacted in time, finding an opening by sheer luck. Your blade struck true, severing its head in a single desperate swing. But the force sent you stumbling. Your feet tangled beneath you, and the pack of branches wrenched you backward, preventing any hope of recovery.
You screamed as the ground slipped out from beneath you.
Xavier shouted your name. You thought you heard it, but it was swallowed by the roar of wind as you tumbled through open air, arms flailing uselessly. For a fleeting, impossible moment, you swore you saw someone leap after youâfeet planted on the flat of a sword, gliding toward you through the sky.
Then the world went dark as you were thrust into water.
You awoke to a gentle warmth on your face.
As your vision slowly adjusted to the dimness, the scent of smoke and the feeling of hard stone reached you first.Â
You were inside a cave. A small fire crackled nearby, its glow casting soft shadows along the walls. Propped carefully against the stone wall was Xavierâs sword, and beside the fire lay two sets of white disciple robesâhis and yoursâspread flat to dry.
Your breath caught as you looked down at yourself, dressed in nothing but your chemise.
âAh. Youâre awake.â
You turned toward the cave entrance. Xavier stood there, shirtless, a large bundle of twigs and branches balanced easily in his arms.Â
You immediately averted your eyes, folding your arms across your chest out of instinctive modesty. He, however, seemed entirely unconcerned, stepping past you and setting the firewood down before kneeling to tend the flames.
Despite yourself, your gaze drifted back to him. His bare chest and the definition in his arms caught the firelight, and you found it difficult to look away.
It was not an unpleasant sight.
He explained, calmly, that you had fallen into the river and that heâd dove in after you. You had both been soaked through, and in the time itâd taken to bring you to shore and find a place for you to rest, night had fallen. Traveling back to the Temple in the dark would be far too dangerous. You would leave at first light.
Then, just as plainly, he added that heâd undressed you to prevent sickness.
You snapped at him, insisting he had no right.
He merely nodded. âI shall remember that for the next time I come to your rescue.â
âThere wonât be a next time,â you muttered, though the severity of your words was immediately betrayed by the sneeze you failed to suppress.
His attention was immediately ensnared. Without a word, he stood, picked up his larger robe, and crossed the cave toward you. He pressed close, and you instinctively leaned away, startled.Â
He paused, blinking in genuine confusion, as though unable to understand why you reacted that way.
âYou are cold,â he said simply. âIf we are not careful, it will lead to an illness. This is the best way to warm ourselves.â
Before you could protest, he draped the robe over both of you and slid an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer. Only then did you realize how violently youâd been shivering. The heat of his skin seeped into you, grounding you, causing you to almost melt in his gentle hold.
You looked up at him. His gaze remained fixed on the fire, his profile outlined in the flickering light. The clean line of his jaw, the curve of his neckâyou thought, fleetingly, that he looked more like a prince than a disciple.
You tore your eyes away the instant he noticed.
But it was too late. You felt the soft vibration of his laughter ripple through his chest beneath your cheek.
It was not an unpleasant sound.
Unfortunately, you did end up with a cold, which delayed your departure further. Xavier abandoned all training and drills without hesitation, insisting you rest as much as possible. To your surprise, he proved to be a capable caretakerâtender and quietly attentive. He fetched firewood, brought you cool water, and never strayed far for long.
Somewhere along the way, his presence ceased to irritate you, becoming a comfort.
After all, the heavens alone knew you would be dead if he had not leapt after you.
You survived on berries and whatever meat Xavier managed to catch and cook over the fire. It wasnât luxurious by any measure, but it was filling. One evening, he told you about how, when he was much younger, his master had intentionally left him alone in the woods to see if he had the will to survive. Heâd been forced to fend for himself, relying on his instincts and what little training heâd had before finding his way back to the Temple.
By comparison, with you, he seemed a far more lenient instructor.
On one particularly bad day, when your strength had fled, he fed you soup heâd made from vegetables and herbs gathered in the forest. When your hands were too weak to hold the bowl up to your lips, he steadied it for you, patiently helping you drink.Â
Your nose wrinkled at the taste, and you nearly choked on the oversized chunks of wild carrot and bitter leaves. It was positively dreadful.
Still, he insisted you finish every last drop. You managed, gagging quietly once the bowl was empty and he turned away. You blamed the taste on medicinal herbs before he returned, holding a cup filled with a strong-smelling liquid.
âThis is made from medicinal herbs,â he said calmly. âIt will grant a speedy recovery.â
âŚNever mind.
In time, you did recover. When you were finally well enough to travel, the two of you began the journey back to the Temple. Whenever the steep incline proved too much, he offered to carry you without hesitation, scooping you up as though you weighed nothing at all. In his arms, you felt safe, in a way that was new and foreign to you yet you didnât reject this new feeling.
Returning to the Templeâs hectic rhythm of life, you found your perception of him had shifted completely.Â
He was no longer the harsh drill instructor youâd resented. Instead, you discovered a mischievous streak underlying his discipline. Lessons turned into games, and he smiled openly when you laughed, making him look his age.
He always seemed to have extra portions of your favorite snacks tucked away. He rewarded you when you did wellâand even when you didnât, encouraging you to work through your frustrations with food and quiet conversation.Â
You found you could tell him anything: your worries about succeeding the Empress Dowager, your anxieties over whether youâd be a good leader, and your smaller, more mundane irritations. He accepted it all without judgment.
At night, he delighted in pointing out the constellations scattered across the mountain sky, stars brilliant and close in the thin air. He guided your gaze patiently until the hidden patterns emerged. It felt natural to sit close to him, to let his soft voice wash over you. Occasionally, you even found yourself drifting off to sleep in his arms, but you always ended up back in your bed when you woke in the morning.
Somewhere along the way, âMasterâ became simply âXavierââor âXav.â
And you became just âY/N.â
The change was so gradual you couldnât name the moment it happened, but you didnât mind it at all.
One evening, Jeremiah asked you to deliver a letter to Xavier, instructing you to find him in his private chambers.
You went at once. But when you arrived, the room was empty.
You told yourself you would simply leave the letter and go. Instead, you lingered, taking advantage of this rare opportunity.Â
You let your hand drift through the robes hanging neatly in the wardrobe, brushed your fingers over the plush blankets spread across the bed, traced the edges of the writing table.Â
You were just about to set the letter down when the wax seal caught your eye.
It was unfamiliarânot the insignia of the Empire, but one you dimly remembered from lessons back at the castle in your youth. It was the mark of a neighboring kingdom, sharpening your curiosity.Â
You opened one of the desk drawers and found a thick stack of letters, bound loosely together. More envelopes followed, all bearing that same foreign seal. Your pulse quickened as you untied the string and quickly grabbed as many letters your hands could hold. The language was close enough to the Imperial tongue that you could read it without much trouble.
They spoke of a castle. Of births and deaths within the family. Of changing seasons, shifting alliances, and even the flowers âheâ had planted long ago, lovingly tended in his absence. Several ended the same wayâwith pleas for him to return home, to abandon this âchildish rebellion.â
You were so absorbed that you didnât hear him enter.
A soft clearing of a throat froze you in place.
Xavier leaned against the doorway, his robe loosely tied, silver hair damp from the baths. Water droplets traced slow paths down his bare chest and abdomen, catching the candlelight. His expression was unreadableâbut not angry.
You spun around, stammering apologies, fumbling for excuses, painfully aware of how incriminating you must look. The letter trembled in your hand.
Then he laughed.
âIf you wished to know about my past,â he said gently, stepping toward you and slipping the letter from your fingers, âyou only needed to ask.â
He didnât scold you. Instead, he told you the truthâconfirming what you had long suspected. He was not a native of the Imperial Empire.
What you had not expected was the rest.
Like you, he had been born to royalty.
He told you calmly yet bitterly how he had refused to participate in the courtâs endless games of manipulation, unwilling to pit himself against his own siblings for a throne stained with blood and betrayal.Â
Rather than play their game, he disappeared into the mountains with his most loyal retainer, Jeremiah, choosing obscurity over power.
Here, he had built a new life as a disciple, the walls of the Temple his sanctuary from those who would go looking for him.
Still, the siblings he trusted enough to confide in had written to him over the yearsânews of the kingdomâs fortunes, the castleâs state, and, woven through it all, pleas for his return. Those letters remained unopened.Â
He admitted this with hesitation, watching your face closely, as though bracing himself for disappointment. Quietly hoping that this truth had not altered your image of him.
You told him that nothing you could learn about him would ever make you think less of him.
In the silence that followed, something unspoken passed between youâa recognition of how deeply intertwined you had become. The bond you shared no longer needed words to define it.
And in the pale wash of moonlight spilling through the window, a bond was not the only thing the two of you shared that night.
(itâs a kiss, get your mind out of the gutter (jk))
Your time at the Temple came to an end sooner than you would have hoped.Â
You asked Xavier to return to the palace with you, certain your grandmother would grant him leave to stay close to you. He refuses gently, unwilling to trade one cage for another. You accept his choice, and the two of you remain close through exchanged letters.
On the eve of your coronation, you invited him once more, thinking it little more than a pipe dream that he might come now that you were to ascend the throne.
You were stunned when Xavier arrived alone, watching with quiet pride as the crown was placed upon your headâand later, as he was named Royal Cultivator.
From that day forward, he remained your most trusted confidantâand your fiercest ally against the demons that plagued the realm. You still fought side by side when duty demanded it, blades moving in quiet harmony, much as you once had in the mountains of the sect.
Only now, you were no longer the clumsy disciple struggling to keep up, but a warrior in your own right.
Rumors inevitably ripple through the court. Officials whisper behind your backs, compare him to one of your concubines, and speculate about the closeness between you. Xavier does not seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, he rather likes the titleâbecause the two of you know the truth: he is yours, wholly and willingly.
At last, he has found his rightful placeâbeside you.
â˘ââââââââââ˘Â°â˘â°â˘âââââââââââ˘
Zayne, The Cursed Healer:
For as long as you had lived within the palace walls, you had guarded a truth the vipers of court could never be allowed to exploit.
You were not human.
Not entirely.
Your heart was demonicâquite literally, the heart of a demon.
Because of this, your life has always been treated as something fragile and dangerous in equal measure.Â
You were handled with care, studied and scrutinized before a small circle of palace physicians, bound by oath and fear alike.
Even they did not fully understand it.
They could not remove the demonic energy without stopping your heart entirely. And so, for years, they tried instead to temper itâto dilute its influence with medicines, charms, and talismans. Your health was monitored obsessively; even a common cold became a matter of alarm.
When you were still a princess, it was Dr. Noah who proposed an alternative.
He spoke of a former disciple from the Academyâa traveling physician who wandered from town to town, gathering both renown and infamy. They called him a man who could cure death.
If anyone could offer a solution to your condition, Dr. Noah insisted, it would be him.
He was summoned to the palace without delay.
You had expected someone older, weathered and somber, having knowledge of all the secrets that confounded mortals. Instead, you were introduced to a young man, his gaze cold but his eyes the deep green of a forest at dusk.
This was your new leading physician, Zayne.
He was different from the start.
Zayne never poked or prodded at you, never drew blood or subjected you to the invasive examinations you had grown accustomed to.Â
He always wore gloves, never removing them for anyoneâexcept during your âtreatmentsâ.
You would lie on a woven mat in a darkened room, the air heavy with incense that clung to your skin.Â
He would kneel beside you and slip the gloves from his hands, then take your palm in his bare hand, his touch cool and steady.
Before you could ponder too deeply as to what he was doing, sleep would pull you under. It always felt the sameâlike cold water washing over your body, soothing rather than shocking.
When you woke, you felt better than you had in years. Stronger. Lighter.
You did not understand his methods, but the improvement was undeniable, so you could not complain.
As time passed, his role in your life shifted almost without notice.Â
He was no longer merely your physician. He became your tutor, guiding you through your rigorous lesson, yet his instruction was much more preferable to your teacherâs monotone droning.
He grew to be your companion, the two of you often seen walking through the palace gardens together, talking softly beneath flowering trees, or seated across from one another over a go board.
You lost far more often than you won. Zayne claimed it was because you overthought every move. You accused him of enjoying your defeat far too much. He never denied it.
You were endlessly fascinated by him. You asked about his travels, the towns he had passed through, the people he had treatedâstories of lives far removed from palace walls. You wanted to understand the kingdom you were meant to lead and he always indulged you.
He always answered your questions honestly, not one to sugarcoat anything to âprotectâ you. Yet there was one question that unsettled him when you finally gathered the courage to ask.
Could he truly cure death itself?
His expression darkened, his voice firm as he dismissed it as exaggeration, a myth. No one could reverse death, he said. But he had pulled people back from its brink, when all hope was thought lost.
You didnât press further, but his answer stayed with you all the same.
Zayne carried himself with a natural seriousness, reserved and disciplinedâbut around you, something softer emerged.
He teased you in a way that felt boyish and endearing, and smiled more often than he seemed to realize.
You learned his quiet preferences in these moments.
He held a fondness for the cold and the long winters you experienced at the palace.Â
When snow dusted the courtyards in white, the palace grounds transformed into an imaginary battlefield. Snowballs flew through the air, dignity abandoned in favor of laughter that echoed through the halls.
Despite how often he lectured you about your diet, you discovered his greatest weakness.
Sweets.
With a platter of egg tarts or tangyuan, you could usually bribe him out of a grueling lesson in favor of flying the kite he had helped you craft.
He would scold you half-heartedly, clearly amusedâonly to insist, later, that you complete the lesson properly.
One night, before the day of your coronation, you had asked him to help you jailbreak the palace during a festival, promising an entire buffet of his favorite desserts if he agreed. It had taken some convincing, but he surrendered to you swiftly.
That night, you slipped out beneath the cover of darkness, cloaks drawn tight around you both, faces smudged with paint to ensure no one would recognize you. Together, you vanished into the city.
You had never seen anything like it.
Lanterns were strung overhead like fallen stars. The scents of sizzling meat and sweet pastries mingled together, dizzying and warm. Music poured through the streets as performers dazzled gathered crowds with song, dance, and impossible feats.
Zayne stayed at your side the entire time, smiling softly at your wonder. He followed your every whim as you dragged him from stall to stallâmarveling over trinkets and jewelry, devouring skewers of roasted meat, clapping along to jubilant music.Â
When you tried your hand at the festival games and failed spectacularly, he would step in with effortless grace, earning you a prize while feigning indifference.
When the fireworks finally bloomed across the sky, you wandered down to the riverbank. Bursts of color rippled across the water as you stood shoulder to shoulder, the backs of your fingers brushing against the cool leather of his gloves.
You looked at him then.
In the shifting light, everything felt suddenly clearâyour feelings crystallizing all at once. Your gaze dropped to his lips, your breath catching. You tilted your face toward his, a silent invitation.
For a heartbeat, you thought he might accept.
Instead, he smiledâgentle, almost wistfulâand turned his face away.
You turned back to the fireworks, forcing yourself to smile as though nothing had changed. But your heart ached with a quiet, unfamiliar sadness.
Your coronation arrived and as you walked the long aisle toward the throne, your gaze found him among the assembled attendees.Â
Zayne stood quietly amidst the blurred faces, watching you with a gentle smile. Pride shone in his eyes, yet beneath it lingered traces of sadness.
You turned your face away before he could see the tears welling in your eyes. Whatever closeness you had once shared could not continue. You cherished him too deeply to pretend otherwise, and loving him without being loved in return hurt more than you had ever imagined.
Afterward, he continued to treat you as alwaysâbut something had changed.
Each session left him more exhausted than before. His precise movements grew clumsy, his bright eyes dull, and his skin more pallid.
You, meanwhile, felt stronger than you ever had in your life, yet you were unnerved.
Zayne assured you nothing was wrong, shutting you out of his office, urging you to focus on your duties as the new sovereign.
It was Dr. Noah who broke the news to you.
Zayne intended to leave the palace at dawn. He stated that he believed it was for the best.
You went to him at onceâfurious that he would dare abandon you without a word. But when you found him, your anger dissolved into horror.
He lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.
His skin was deathly pale, lips tinged blue, his breath rattling in his chest. When he tried to speak, he broke into a fit of coughing, wheezing as he begged youâweakly, desperatelyâto leave.
You refused, cradling him in your arms, demanding he tell you what this maddening affliction was.
And then, at last, he told you everything.
Zayne had been born with an overabundance of qiâhis life force so powerful it could retrieve a soul on the brink of death. Every time he touched another, he gave a piece of himself away. Every âhealedâ person cost him his own vitality.Â
That was why he wore gloves. Why he travelled alone through the land, saving those who were in need while preserving his own life force by limiting contact.
When he treated you, he did not merely healâhe overwhelmed your demonic energy with his own qi, taking its burden into himself. Each session strengthened you and siphoned him.
This was his cursed fate, to drain himself to save others.
He told you that if you could liveâif you could live a life that was fullâthen his death would be a small price to pay. He would die at peace, knowing his life had meant something.
He wiped your tears as they fell, his sunken face still radiating that tender warmth you knew so wellâbut you would not accept this fate he had chosen for himself.
With shaking hands, you tore the glove from his skin and seized his bare hand in yours. This time, you did not resist your natureâyou gave in. Your mixed energy surged into him, blistering hot compared to his soothing cold. Pain speared through both of you, as your very essences intertwined.
When you opened your eyes, Zayne lay breathing steadily in your arms. Color had returned to his face, his pulse strong beneath your fingers. He was weakâbut alive.
You laughed and cried all at once, clutching him as though he might vanish if you let go. You begged himâthrough broken sobsânever to leave you again.
This time, he did not turn away.
Zayne cupped your face with ungloved hands, his touch warm for the first time you had ever known it.Â
From that day on, your bond changed.
Your energies no longer consumed one anotherâthey balanced instead, sustaining you both. You were no longer merely vessels for higher powers, but people who had chosen to live.
Zayne remained in his role as a physician alongside Dr. Noah, Greyson, and Yvonne, working solely in traditional and modern medicine. Yet the truth was known throughout the palace, spoken softly but without doubt:
He was no longer just your healer.
He was your chosen companion.
âšď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľâš đ âšď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľď¸ľ âš
Rafayel, The Sacrificial Bride:
You remember learning from your tutor that there was a race of mystical mer-people who resided beneath the seas.
Not only were they more beautiful and talented than humansâtheir siren songs hailed as the most exquisite music one could ever hearâthey also possessed the power to wield magic, far surpassing even the most skilled cultivators.
For that reason, they were shunned by mortals and feared by those in powerâso much so that before you were born, your father, the Emperor, waged a long, bloody war to subdue the Sea People and plunder the treasures hidden in their waters. A war in which your ancestors were victorious.
When you ascended the throne, one gift in particular drew attention. A man with divine beauty, cascading hair, and robes that shimmered like the ocean, yet he would not meet your gaze.
An ambassador of the Sea People whispered the truth to you: to secure peace and prove their loyalty to your reign, they had sent their very own prince, offering him as a bridegroom.
You were unsure what to do with the man named Rafayel, so you gave him his own wing of the palace and the freedom to go wherever he pleased.
He accepted these gifts with bitterness. You were not surprised by his resentmentâhe and his people had endured long years of abuse at the hands of your kind: captured, kept as pets despite laws forbidding it, and sometimes even killed in attempts to unravel the secrets of their magic.
Yet you treated him with dignity and patience, granting him space and respect. Even when he climbed into your bed, you refused to reciprocate intimacy, explaining that your union was purely for appearances. You assured him that, when the time was right, he would be given the means to leave the castle and return home, making clear that you sought to repair the harm your ancestors had inflicted upon his people. Your words seemed to both confuse and shock him.
You allowed him to sit in on policy meetings, despite the outrage of several loudmouthed officials. To your surprise, he offered counsel of his own, carefully veiled in platitudes and neutral observations.
From then on, in the dead of night when he came to your chambers, rather than fall into depravity, you discussed matters of state together. His intellect and political insight helped you craft laws that served both your peoples.
The more time you spent with him, the more you discovered Rafayelâs depth: he was a true artist, skilled with brush and voice alike. All of his paintings and woodcuttings found a place in your quarters and study, and you even had a gallery installed so the rest of the palace could appreciate the craftsmanship.Â
You also realized he could be surprisingly clingy, wearing a shameless pout whenever you informed him you could not spend time together.Â
Whether it was genuine or a subtle strategy to worm himself further into your heart, it was effective.
He was a fantastic pipa player and heâd often perform for you when you were alone, but one time he chose to sing along with his playing. You were unsure if the beauty of the music came from the gift of his people or from the singer himself.
Heâd also protected you from an assasination attempt when the two of you were strolling the grounds after dark, when a poison dart flew at you from the rooftop.Â
You shielded your face but when you opened your eyes, the dart lay in a pile of dust, and flames licked at Rafayelâs fingertips, his eyes an unearthly shade of blue.
Despite the growing closeness between you, a sliver of doubt always remained: were his words and actions truly sincere, or, like so many at court, was he seeking a way to manipulate or overthrow you?
As these thoughts ate away at you, one of the eunuchs approached with alarming news: he had seen Rafayel meeting with certain administrators in secret.
The eunuch had overheard fragments of the conversation. They were instructing Rafayel to poison your drink the next time you were alone together, so that he could finally return to the ocean while a more âsuitableâ ruler took your place. The man had fled in terror upon hearing the plan, leaving the rest of the plot unknown.
Horror surged through you, yet a part of you clung to hopeâhope that Rafayel would not betray you.
That night, when you were alone in your chambers, he poured your tea as always, telling some innocuous tale about a cat he had âbravelyâ scared offâhe had detested the poor creatures ever since he came on land.
You picked up your cup, keeping your eyes fixed on it, and recounted the amusing rumor of him gaining followers in court. He did not confirm or deny, instead asking quietly whether it upset you, as if probing how much you already knew.
This time, you looked him squarely in the eye. You mused aloud about how poison could slip into tea so subtly, how you would not know until it was too late.Â
He nodded, agreeing with your observations, all while that perfect, disarming smile of his played across his lipsâthe very smile you had come to adore.
You lifted the tea and drank it in one measured gulp.
Setting the cup back on the table, you and Rafayel sat in silence, the air between you uncharacteristically tense.
Before long, your body began to relax. The tea was safeâthere had never been any poison.
He then revealed the truth: yes, men had come to him with a plot to kill you, offering him the chance to assist them given his unique positionâbut he had refused outright. He even swore he would report them personally to the Empress. Yet he had noticed the way you had acted around him, the suspicion in your eyes, and he had understood that you doubted him.
Overwhelmed by relief and shame, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You implored him to leave the palace at once, fearing for his safety, knowing that you could not always shield him from the wrath of the court.
Rafayel, however, reminded you that he needed no protectionâit was they who should fear him. And what kind of bride would dare abandon his Empressâs side when she needed him most?
That night, the two of you embraced, unbound by ancient feuds or lingering mistrust, allowing the walls of suspicion and fear to crumble between you.
â âââââââąŕźşâŻâ°âŻŕźťâ°ââââââââ
Sylus, The âDemonâ Chancellor:
Navigating the royal courtâeven from the highest seat of powerâwas like crossing a minefield blindfolded. One misstep could leave you exposed; one careless act could send you hurtling through the air beyond saving.
In those early days, only a handful of nights after your grandmotherâs death, you attended a council meeting convened by the officials who had served her for decades. Your body was locked tight with tension, spine rigid as men twice your age spoke at youâabout taxes and imports and policy reforms, words piling up into a dull, meaningless drone.
That was when you saw him.
An official whose smooth face was untouched by time, his features prominent and handsome, as though sculpted by celestial hands. His gaze had been focussed elsewhere, but the instant you noticed him, he lifted his eyes. They were redâprecisely the shade of his exquisite robes.Â
You had never seen anyone like him.
He caught you staring. He did not flinch, rather, the corner of his mouth curved upward.
Mid-lecture, as an elder official embellished details about potential export reforms, the young man interrupted with ease, pointing out how the policy would line the old goatâs coffers rather than ease the burdens of the common people.
The elderâs lips snapped shut, his face mottled with fury, yet he did not utter another word for the rest of the meeting. When the council finally adjourned, the young official glanced back at you and winked.
From that day on, he was everywhere.
At every meeting you presided over, he stood at the fringes of the gathering, but you watched as entire rooms bent around him. A few carefully chosen phrases were all it took for seasoned men to swallow their insights as well as their insults.
Who was this man who wielded such quiet dominion over your court?
You dispatched your attendants to learn everything they could.
His name was Sylus.
He had entered the court recently, replacing an older official from the foreign land Sylus came from. In a remarkably short time, he had secured the loyalty of many younger officials through luxurious gift deliveries and under the table dealings. Even the elders dared not oppose him, for his wealth was beyond measure.
He held interests in weapons manufacturing and jewel mining. Treasures made their way into his hand as easily as water; nothing was too precious for him not to have.Â
Yet darker rumors trailed him: people vanishing from their homes when they refused his terms, tortured in secret until they yielded completely.
Even your grandmother, it was said, had begun to fear the extent of his influence.
But you would not cower.
If Sylus had meant to issue a challenge, you would meet it head-on.
When the next meeting convened, it began meaninglessly enough, a familiar parade of dull reports and stifling formalities. Before long, however, the discussion turned to armament contracts.
One of the younger ministers spoke first. His tone was reverent, almost rehearsed, as he detailed the necessity of securing new weapons to âensure stability along the borders,â his phrasing a transparent nod toward Sylusâs enterprises.
Yet before Sylus could generously offer up his services, you spoke, commanding the roomâs attention.
You wondered aloud whether the borders were truly as fragile as the minister implied, noting that you had received no such cause for alarm. Had he access to information that was impervious to the Empressâs ears?
He blubbered, stuttered, and could not stop himself from glancing toward Sylus for rescue. None came. Sylus remained silent, his attention fixed solely on you.
You announced that you would be commissioning an independent review of all previous armament contracts, analyzing closely at their origins and beneficiaries.Â
You turned to Sylus, inquiring politely whether he found this course of action appropriate, or whether you were, in his estimation, overstepping.
All eyes were on him. No one spoke, they dared not even breathe. At last, Sylus inclined his head. An untroubled smile settled onto his features.
âAs you command, Empress.â
The meeting was adjourned not long after, but the energy in the chamber had shifted, the scales tilting in a new direction.
You had shown the court that he could be challengedâand that you were the one who would do it.
Rather than being diminished by your challenge, Sylus seemed only to grow bolder.Â
He no longer sat in silence while others spoke on his behalf. Instead, he addressed you directlyâposing questions about your intended rulings on policy or law, openly disputing your answers, and turning entire council sessions into what felt less like meetings and more like personal tĂŞte-Ă -tĂŞtes.
You found, to your surprise, that it invigorated you.
The other officials appeared uncertain where their loyalties should fall. They watched the two of you spar in near silence, hesitant to interject, and in that quiet you found yourself able to move reforms and enact decisions with newfound speed.
After the most recent meeting, one of your attendants informed you that a package awaited you in your study.
Inside, you found a dagger.
It rested in a scabbard etched with intricate carvingsâsymbols of the empire that you traced with your fingers.Â
When you drew the blade, it revealed itself to be the finest steel you had ever seen. You tested it on the flowers arranged nearby; the blade parted stem and blossom as if cutting through air. More striking still, it fit your hand perfectly, as though crafted with you in mind.
A note accompanied it, bearing Sylusâs name.
May this blade be wielded as lethally as your words.
The daggerâs design was unmistakably foreignâits lines and craftsmanship marking it as a product of the land from which Sylus hailed, a nation renowned, and quietly envied, for the make of its weapons.
You did not hesitate.
A private meeting was arrangedânot out of secrecy, but courtesyâto thank him for the gift. Yet the rest of the court wouldnât see it that way.Â
He was calm and composed, betraying none of the fear you had come to expect from men who stood before youâespecially those who had dared challenge your rule. He sipped his tea at an unhurried pace, as though this were a social call rather than a reckoning.
When you brought out the Go board, asking if he knew how to play.
He seemed faintly amused and assured you that he did.
You began the gameâthough in truth, one was already underway.
This meeting could end in only two ways: with him leaving the palace with his status revoked, head bowed in dishonor, or with him walking out untouched, and the court waking the next morning and witnessing the two of you now standing in league.
He knew it as well as you did.
As the game unfolded, neither of you yielded ground. Territory was claimed and tested. And as the board filled, you chose not to mask your intent.
There was no reason, you said, that the two of you could not see eye to eye when it came to managing the other pieces on the board. They required guidanceâsomething you both dispensed with ease.
There did not have to be a single victor.
You revealed your final formation then, one in which the board lay balanced, each of you holding equal ground.
So long as it served you both, you explained, the outcome could be called a draw.
When your gaze met his ruby eyes, you realized he saw beyond your imperial façade, and what met you there was not condescension, but a spark of genuine intrigue directed wholly at you. You felt a flicker of warmth lap at your core.Â
At the next council meeting, he took his usual place, but his challenges were fewer now, his arguments measured. The officials, watching closely, understood exactly where he stood.
With rumors already in full flight, you found it almost amusing to fan the flames. You invited him to further one-on-one meetings, to strolls through the palace gardens where the two of you moved openly together, unrestrained.
Sylus was a breath of fresh air.
He was an excellent conversationalist, sharp-witted and perceptive, and he teased you with an ease few others daredâgiving you the moniker of a feisty kitten. You laughed more in his presence than you had since ascending the throne.
You discovered he was a man of refined tastes, particularly in music. In response, you arranged a court performance featuring pieces you knew he would enjoy, seating him at your side so you could murmur observations to one another, giggling like you were old friends.
The gifts did not stop, each was more lavish than the last.
Once, he presented you with a hand-crafted hairpin, inlaid with a jewel so rare and precious it could have purchased a small country. You wore it without thinking twice.
Admittedly, you had begun to see him less as a political rival, and more as a cherished companion. You delighted in the stories he told you at nightâof his homeland, where life was nomadic and brutal, where strength determined oneâs survival and the weak were afforded no mercy.
He spoke of fighting and clawing his way into a position of power, of the hardships he endured. Those memories he divulged to you in strict confidence tugged unexpectedly at your heart.
Gradually, you found yourself reopening discussions of the armament contracts, with a more lenient attitude towards renewal.
Like a fine liquor, Sylus was intoxicating. Delectable in careful measure, yet dangerous in excess. You told yourself you were drinking in moderation.
How could someone who made you feel unequivocally human be harmful?
The answer came one night, brought on by the hushed words of a spy, carrying unsettling news about your new âfavoriteâ.
Per your request months ago, your spies had continued digging into Sylusâs past, maintaining a quiet watch over his movements.Â
No record of a man named Sylus existed in the empireâs public archives. Nor did he appear in the annals of his homelandâat least not until recently, when he suddenly and mysteriously rose to power and was named an âambassadorâ shortly before arriving in your court.
Until last night, however, nothing about his behavior had warranted alarm.
That night, two men dressed in blackâidentical in height, identical in dress, their faces concealed behind matching crow masksâwere seen slipping into his residence in the Imperial City.
Your spies followed them in.
They managed to draw close enough to peer through sheer curtains and make out the figures inside. The men in black knelt before Sylus. They spoke in a rough, unfamiliar tongue, one that Sylus answered fluently. Though the language was foreign, one of your spies recognized fragmentsâwords that carried meaning even without context.
Progress. Empress. Control.
When the spies attempted to listen further, they were discovered. The masked men fell upon them with terrifying speed and brutal efficiency. Only one spy returned alive to tell you what had transpired. Clutched in his bloodied hand was a pin torn from one of Sylusâs men, its insignia unmistakableâthe mark of a rebel organization that had openly denounced the monarchy.
You were left reeling.
Had Sylus harbored ulterior motives all along?
You dismissed the survivor and sat alone with the weight of the truth. If the captured spy still lived, they might already be under torture, forced to reveal that you had been investigating Sylus from the beginning.
If he learned thatâ
You exhaled slowly. What would his next move be?
The next day, for the first time since his arrival at court, Sylus did not appear.
More unsettling still, you scarcely saw him in the days that followed. Word came through his assistants that he had been abruptly summoned back to his homeland and was making preparations to depart for a short stay.
The news lit a blazing fury in your chest.
You ordered the assistant to relay a message. If he left, he need not bother returning to court at all.
The shock on his face was fleeting; he bowed and fled to deliver it. You told yourself you felt nothing for him. You understood now that his loyalties had never truly been yours.
And yetâŚsomething in you still ached.
He had taught you one thing well: strike while the iron is hot, rather than wait for power to slip out of your grasp.
That night, sleep refused you.
A cup of tea sat untouched beside you, once steaming, now long since gone cold. You turned the hairpin he had given you over and over between your fingers, tracing the smooth curve of the jewel.
Your other hand closed around the dagger, the very first gift.
You pressed the bladeâs tip to the gem, ready to wrench it freeâ
âand froze at the sound of a body hitting cobblestone.
You rushed outside.
One of your guards lay sprawled on the ground, breathing steadily, a razor-thin needle protruding from his neck. Beside him stood a cloaked figure who raised a hand in an almost cheerful wave, introducing himself as Kieran.
Another body collapsed nearby. A second cloaked man appeared, identical in dress, offering another wave and a cheery voice stating he was Luke.
You drew your dagger at once, grip firm. âIf youâve come to kill me,â you said coolly, âyouâll find it wonât be easy.â
They stared at you in genuine surprise.
âKill you?â Kieran echoed. âNo, noâBoss Man would have our heads.â
âBoss Man asked us to bring you,â Luke added. âIf youâd be willing to come with us. He expressly told us not to use force. If you refuse, weâll leave.â
You hesitated only a moment before sheathing the bladeâthough you did not let it go. You gestured for them to lead the way.
They took you through the quiet corridors and into the courtyard, stopping beneath a willow tree whose branches gently swayed in the breeze.
Sylus waited there, leaning against the trunk moonlight catching in his hair. His expression softened when he saw you.Â
You knew why he would choose this spot, the two of you coming here on your casual walks more times than you could count. And yet there was nothing pleasant about meeting him now.
âYou received my message,â you said flatly.
âI did,â he replied. âAnd I wasnât keen on obeying it.â
Your chin lifted. âWhat if I want you gone? You no longer have a place in this court. I do not keep allies who plan to dispose of me.â
For the briefest moment, his composure cracked. True pain flashed across his features.
âPlease,â he said quietly. âListen to me.â
He told you everything.
Of how he had risen to status in his homeland, backed by rebels who held substantial power within the nationâs fractured government. Of how his strength and cunning had earned him their favorâand how they had sent him to your empire to undermine your rule. The wealth he wielded, the influence he commandedâit had all been supplied by them.
But he had not been summoned home to conspire.
He had sent word refusing to continue their schemes.
Now he was a wanted man in his homeland. His assets were seized. His supporters shunned him.
âI have nothing left to offer you,â he said softly, stepping closer. The wind stirred his hair, rustled the willowâs branches. He took your hand in his, gentle as heâd always been with you. âNothing but this.â
And he knelt.
âI swear my loyalty to you,â he said. âYou are the finest ruler I have ever known and your dynasty shall be a great one. My only wish is to remain by your side. Whatever punishment you deem fit, I will accept.â
He pressed his lips to the back of your hand.
That familiar warmth surged through you, dissolving the last of your resolve. You pulled him up and wrapped your arms around him, breathless with the force of it.
âFor your disservice against the throne, I command you to never leave my side. You will serve and accompany me till the day you die.âÂ
He laughed softly, bending to murmur in your ear, âThat, I can do.â
Stripped of wealth and standing, Sylus could no longer serve as an official. His former allies looked down on him nowâyet none dared speak when he appeared at meetings seated beside you, facilitating as he always had, cutting short the tongues of fools and those who tried to sway your opinion selfishly.
His new title was unspoken but unmistakable.
And when the two of you retired to your chambers at night and you caught that familiar grin on his face, you knewâ
He was more than pleased with his new role.
¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Caleb, The Traitorous General:
Your grandmother had taken a secret to her graveâone that would have shaken the foundations of your claim to the throne had anyone known.
You were not the true heir.
Before your parentsâ deaths, they had adopted youâa girl born with a demonic heart, captured by cultivators. Your father believed that with such a heart, you could become a far more powerful weapon than any nation could possess.
The child who was meant to inherit the throne from birth was your adoptive brother, Caleb.
You were raised together within the palace walls. Though he knew the truth of your demonic nature, he treated you with kindness, and in turn, you grew to love and rely on him.
Your childhood was an idyllic one. Caleb took to the role of your protector naturally: your guardian, your knight, the one who would rush to your side at any hour, anywhere you may be.
As you both grew older, however, life began to pull you in different directions.Â
Caleb immersed himself in military strategy and combat, preparing to serve the empire in ways you could not. Meanwhile, at your grandmotherâs orders, you were groomed to ascend the throne, trained to rule, and slowly, the closeness you had once shared began to strain.
As Caleb rose through the ranks of the military, earning the title of a venerated General, he began to see that corruption and deadly conspiracies ran far deeper than either of you had ever suspected.
There were those who sought to exploit your youthâwho wished to place you upon the throne not as a ruler, but as a mouthpiece, a carefully dressed puppet. Opposing them was a growing faction who named themselves Calebâs supporters, men who whispered that he should be the one to rule instead.
Caleb knew what that meant for you.
Your claim to the throne was fragile. If anyone investigated your past too closely, it would be contested, and he would not allow that to happen. Your safety had always been his highest priorityâabove rank, above honor, above even his own life.
So he resolved to disappear.
When he was sent to battleâa campaign that should have posed no challenge to a strategist and warrior of his caliberâtragedy struck. In the dead of night, his tent was struck by a cannonball. It erupted in a burst of fire and smoke, leaving nothing behind.
No body was ever recovered.
Only a single, scorched scent pouchâone he had carried on his person ever since you gifted it to him as a child.
You were inconsolable for days. Grief hollowed you out, left you raw and unsteady. You nearly postponed your coronation to observe the full mourning period, but even in death, you could hear his voiceâsharp and unwaveringâcalling such a decision reckless.
You knew, deep in your heart, what he would have wanted.
So you claimed your fated inheritance.
The crown was placed upon your head, and though the people celebrated for days on end, your heart ached with every passing moment.
Moons passed. Then word arrived from one of your border spies.
The empireâs bitter enemy had been sightedâan encampment forming in the distance, their forces preparing to strike. The reported formation tugged at something in your memory, uncomfortably familiar, but you dismissed the thought.
You moved swiftly. Drawing on every lesson Caleb had ever taught you, you instructed your generals, shaping the course of battle. Your heart clenched at his absence, but you refused to let grief dull your judgment.
Your soldiers emerged victorious.
They returned in triumph, prisoners in tow, greeted by the roaring cheers of palace civilians. Among the captives was the enemyâs leading military general, brought before you in chains.
Nothing could have prepared you for the moment you looked upon him.
His hair was longer now, his right arm replaced by one of cool steel. His eyesâonce so brightâwere dimmed by exhaustion and something far heavier. But even so, you knew this man.
You would have known him in any form.
It was your dear Caleb. Back from the dead.
You ordered that he be locked away in a solitary cell deep within the dungeon, separated from his comrades. He didnât utter a word in his defense as your guards roughly dragged him off, their faces cruel.
The first time you went to see him, he sat slumped in the corner, his gaze fixed on the stone wall before him. His eyes were empty in a way that made your chest ache.
You knelt beside the bars and whispered his name, scarcely daring to believe it.
âIs it you? Are you truly alive? Why were you fighting for the enemy? What happened to you all this time?â
He did not answer.
The silence crushed you. You fled the dungeon with your nerves in tatters, tears blurring your vision. It hurt too much to even look at himâto see him and yet not have him.
When you returned days later, your heart sank. His cheeks had grown hollow, the sharp lines of hunger carved into his face. His right arm was completely gone and fresh bruises marred his skin. It didnât take long to understand what had happened.
The guards had not been feeding him. Worse still, they had taken their revenge on the so-called traitor to the empire.
Rage and guilt twisted together inside you. You swore, through tears, that the men responsible would be beaten within an inch of their lives. You begged him to speak, to look at you, to tell you he recognized youâanything.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
His eyes locked onto yours at last. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, as though he hadnât spoken in a very long time.
âWho are you?âÂ
You were left in complete shock.
You told him your name, demanded to know if this was some cruel joke, your voice trembling on the edge of a shoutâbut he offered nothing more.
You summoned Dr. Noah at once.
He examined Caleb thoroughly, tending to his wounds while scrutinizing his condition. When he finally spoke, his words confirmed your worst fear.
Calebâs memory had been wiped clean.
He remembered nothing of the palace. Nothing of his former life. Nothing of you.
You begged Dr. Noah, practically on your knees, to find a way to reverse the affliction but he could only shake his head. Recovery, he explained gently, depended entirely on the patient. The mind would returnâor it would notâon its own terms.
Your heart felt unbearably heavy, yet your resolve hardened in its place.
You ordered that Caleb be restored to healthâbeginning with the return of his arm and his removal from the dungeon. He was transferred to the Cold Palace, where he could be properly cared for by men you trusted, far from prying eyes.
Only there, he was safe.Â
Each day, no matter how full your schedule grew, you carved out time for him. Sometimes you shared quiet meals within the palace walls; other times, you took short walks together as he slowly regained his strength. At first, he spoke very littleâhis answers were curt and vague, fragments of half-remembered things when you asked about your shared past.
But gradually, something shifted.
He began to speak more. His cadence softened, familiar inflections returning. In those moments, you could glimpse the Caleb you had loved so dearly, reassuring you that somewhere deep within him, he still existed.
Yet the world refused to leave you in peace.
The officials whispered. They made offhand remarks in council chambers and behind closed doors, noting how soft-hearted you had grown toward a traitor. They questioned your insistence on restoring his memory, your reluctance to pass judgment.
Punishment, they reminded you, had to be meted out.
He must be executed. Like the traitor he was.
You knew you could not delay the inevitable much longer. If justice was to be done, it would be by your own handâyou would not allow anyone else to humiliate him further.
In the dead of night, as he slept peacefully in his bed, the guards outside let you pass. Hidden within the folds of your dress was a dagger, its weight a heavy reminder of what you had come to do.
For a moment, the sight of him undid you. His face was unguarded, almost boyish in sleep, and your resolve waveredâjust for a heartbeat.
Then you raised the blade.
Silently, you begged his soul for forgiveness. You promised you would find him again in the afterlife.
The dagger cut through the air.
A hand clamped around your wrist.
In a blur of motion, you were flipped onto your back. His grip tightened, painful enough that the dagger slipped from your fingers and clattered to the floor as you cried out. You stared up at him, breathless.
Caleb was wide awake.
His chest rose and fell rapidly as he looked down at you, confusion flickering in his eyes. And thereâagainst his chestâhung a familiar scent pouch. The very one you had recovered from the wreckage all those moons ago.
When you were both seated and steaming cups of tea were placed before you, he revealed to you everything.
His memory had never been lost.
There was a traitor in your courtâbut it had never been him.
He told you how he had gone into battle prepared to die if necessary, though the explosion that destroyed his tent had not been part of his plan. It had been planted.Â
Someone within your own ranks had wanted him dead. Instead, he lost his arm and was taken prisoner by the enemy.Â
They tortured him for months on end. When escape proved impossible, he made a choice.Â
He feigned memory lossânot for himself, but for you. To protect your secrets and your life.
In time, they realized the asset they had gained. Rather than kill him, they elevated himâinstalled him as their military commander and gifted him a new arm. Yet through it all, his loyalty never wavered.
It had nearly broken him to pretend he did not know you. Still, he confessed, he had selfishly cherished the stolen momentsâthe quiet meals, the walks, the time when you were his alone. Above all else, he was grateful to see you alive and crowned Empress.
But he had known it could not last.
Sooner or later, the court would demand his execution. He had accepted that fate willingly if it meant you could rule without fear.
You refused his sacrifice.
You told him that the only way you could ever be a ruler worthy of the prophecy was if he livedâif he stayed at your side. And at that, he swore he would never part from you again.
Together, you uncovered the true traitor within your court.
It was that man who met a brutal end, torn limb from limb by horses. Caleb was restored in honor, hailed as a returning war hero and returned to his rightful position at court.
And this time, the two of you stood closer than you ever had before.
YURRRR IVE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE TURN IT UPPP
is it just me or are the curtains the most un-curtainable curtains you would think they function like a curtain but itâs never compatible on a wall for me
omg just discovered that my chinese name shares a character with rafayels assigned flower the flame lily idc im running with this he picked it for me uall im running wild with this delusion
AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Come Home.
From @hajimeowmeow's prompt where Caleb receives a message threatening to hurt the person he loves the most, yet instead of staying with you, his girlfriend, he thinks mc is in danger and stays with her in linkon for weeks on end. He comes back but you're not the same-- more eerie, as a parasite takes over your brain.
nooooot proofread, just wrote this literally now hahah bc i am in my sad girl hours and i need smthng to hurt me.
warnings? tragic love, caleb being sad, pathetic, and begging; doomed love. also K by CAS, is the perfect song wrote this with CAS playlist :p
@youre-my-headliner @mia-menaceinaction
-----
There is the dim, yet warm light of a single lamp open in the living room; the TV is buzzing, words of characters that youâre only barely paying attention to anymore. A sitcom you really like rewatching. It was raining a little, so you look at your phone. A message you sent 2 hours ago, still left on delivered.
Itâs raining. You should borrow an umbrella from a co-worker.
It would be bad if you got sick.
Love you. Come home soon, honey.
Your boyfriend was a busy man. A colonel at a very young age, in the most influential unit in your city: Skyhaven. Youâve lived together for a year now, and have been together for a bit longer. Somehow, youâve gotten used to him coming home late. And heâs gotten used to you waiting for him âtil late. You insist upon it. Itâs too cold to ever truly be sleeping without him as your body pillow.
Your eyes are drowsy, threatening to close while your feet fold deeper as you curl into a ball in the chill room, covered in your thin blanketâ that the door opens. You perk up immediately, despite the grog settling deep into your skin.
There, Caleb slowly closes the door behind him. His hat, finally coming off as he loosens his collar, sighing. You get up, still wrapped in your blanket and meet him by the doorway. Heâs halfway into getting his shoes off when you stand in front of him, barefoot with a pout.
âYouâre wet. Did you get my text? Youâll get sick, you big dummy.â You try to wipe the droplets of rain from his shoulders, then his cheeks; which were cold. His hands move up to your wrists, holding them gently.
âI didnât have time to check my phone. Sorry, honey.â He says, voice low, tired. Then he kisses the inside of your wrist. Your hands being the only thing warming him right now.
You sigh, which ends in a small smile. âItâs okay. Youâre home now.â
â
You linger with him a moment longer after that, just breathing in the scent of rain and metal that always clings to his uniform. He moves toward the couch while you pad back into the kitchen, the faint buzz of the TV filling the space again. The sound of him setting down his things, the muted hum of the holo-terminal bootingâ all so ordinary it makes you smile.
âDid you eat?â You call out while you stir something in a small pot, steam fogging the air.
âNot yet,â he answers, voice distant but gentle.
You grab a plate, already imagining the way heâll loosen up after a meal and shower. Then the terminal tone pierces through the quiet. It isnât the usual mellow ping of work updates. This one is sharper, coded. Military-grade. You hesitate mid-step, plate still in your hands.Â
âWork again?â You ask, half sigh, half tease.
He doesnât answer immediately. The air feels heavier now. From the couch, you can see him sit rigid before the screen, its pale light painting his face in washed-out blues.
You wipe your hands on the towel and walk closer. âHey⌠you okay?â
He blinks and turns, startled as if he forgot you were there. âYeah,â he murmurs, forcing a small smile. âJust⌠something from command. Nothing important.â
âSo itâs fine, then?â
He nods, but thereâs no conviction in the motion. You can see the storm behind his eyes. Whatever he just read isnât fine at all.
You cross the short distance between you, laying a hand on his arm. âYou can tell me, you know.â
His jaw flexes. For a second, you think he might. But then the soldier in him wins over the man you love. He cups your hand gently and presses a kiss to it instead of answering.
âI will,â he says softly, âonce things are handled. Donât worry tonight, okay? Youâve done enough waiting for me.â
Something in that phrasing sinks cold in you. You want to argue, ask whatâs really happening, but heâs already looking past you at the rain-slick window, mind somewhere far away.
âCalebââ
âItâs fine, honey.â He gives you one of those smiles, reassuring. But lurking with trembles heâs barely hiding. âReally. Just protocol stuff.â
You nod, because youâve learned to choose your battles. You go back to the table and place the food down between you both, pretending not to notice his eyes dart once more toward the flashing terminal.
Dinner ends in fragments: your laughter too soft, his replies just half-finished. And when he finally excuses himself to âtake a call,â you stay on the couch. Watching the reflection of the lamp fade across the empty seat beside you.
From the hallway, you can hear him speaking quietly, voice clipped, controlled. Then silence.
His footsteps return, slower this time. You look up, already knowing you wonât like whatâs next. And Caleb almost didnât have the heart to tell you, especially when you looked at him that way. Your eyes sparkled in a way that made his heart clench. Your breathing so obviously controlled. So he sits beside you despite the large space the couch could offer.
Caleb let his elbows rest on his knees. His eyes on the floor.
â...They need me in Linkon,â he says, words measured but heavy. âBut itâs short-term, I promiseâ a few weeks at most.â
The words hang in the room as he finally looks at you, and you exhale, this time, turning your head away from him; taking his words in.
But you manage a small nod. âTonight?â
He hesitates, then: âTomorrow morning.â At least. He should at least spend the night with you.
You smile again. âThatâs⌠soon.â
He brushes your hair behind your ear, before cupping your cheek to make you look at him gently. Thumb brushing against your soft skin, as if memorizing the gesture. âIâll be back before you know it.â
âI know,â you whisper, even as something inside you starts to ache. âYou always come back.â
â
Days pass. Then weeks.Â
You still go to work. Same office. Same blue-gray cubicle walls humming under cheap lights. Your coworkers greet you with practiced smiles and the usual chatter about deadlines and traffic. You smile back, careful not to let the pauses linger â you donât want anyone asking how youâre doing. Â
You tell yourself itâs fine. Youâre fine. Youâre not really the kind of person who clings too much. Calebâs job is important and dangerous; you knew that from the start. You repeat it like a mantra every time the communicator on your desk stays silent.
During lunch breaks, your colleagues invite you out for noodles or coffee. You always shake your head with a little laugh. âIâve got errands,â you say. You donât. You just canât stand the thought of burdening anyone with the smallness of how much you miss him.
Evenings are harder. Â
The apartment still hums with the quiet habits you sharedâ his cup in the dish rack, his jacket folded on the chair. You keep reheating leftovers and packing them in containers heâll never open.
You stop sleeping in bed; it feels too big alone. The couch becomes your spot again, TV buzzing faintly with that same sitcom youâve seen a dozen times. The laugh track becomes mocking, at some point.
Messages sit half-written in your terminal.
Did you eat?
Donât forget to rest.
The plants miss youuuu.
Coco puff too.
I miss you, Caleb.
You somehow never hit send. You just stare at the blinking cursor until the screen times out.
Sometimes you think about reaching out to friendsâ to anyoneâ but every time your hand hovers over the call icon, you stop. You tell yourself it would be rude, intrusive. They have lives; they donât need to hear you talk about the weather or how quiet your homeâs been.Â
By the third week, your sleep pattern collapses. You start leaving lights on all over the apartment, afraid of how Skyhavenâ this apartment feels without him. At first, the neighbors ask if youâre alright. Then they stop. And youâre alone again.
One eveningâ like any otherâ you hear the faint static pop outside the door. A knock follows. You expect Caleb. And you feel energy burst in your veins, your chest tightens, your heart surgesâ of course heâs come back, he promised!
âHoney!â You smile, already excited just unlocking the door. âIâm gladââ
The door bursts forward. Metal boots flood over the sound of rain. You barely register the shout before the noise swallows you whole. Â
You fight, of course you do. Your heel connects with someoneâs leg; a grunt, a shout. There are too many hands. Gloved, cold, inhuman. They shove you against the wall, pin your wrists.Â
âWhereâ who, who are you youâ let me go!â
One of them laughs, distorted through a voice modulator. âFunny. He didnât even tell you, did he?â Â
You freeze for half a second, breaths sharp. âTell me what?â Â
The laugh deepens. âThat weâd come for you. He got our message and still somehow picked the other one.â
You blink hard as the words fracture through your panic. âWhatâ what.. message?â
The leader raises his visor just enough for you to see his eyesâ clinical and detached, yet clearly amused. âWe will hurt the person you love most. Ring any bells?â
Your stomach drops, colder than fear. Heâs lying. He has to be lying. âYou mean⌠MC,â you say, voice small, trembling. âYou went for herâ notââ not me. These guys must have made a mistake!
âOh, no. He made sure we couldnât get to her.â A short laugh. âGuess he thought she mattered more.â
The words punch straight through your chest. For a second everythingâ the shouting, the rain, the strugglingâ fades under a single ringing truth. All the nights you spent waiting, the unanswered messages, the silence that stretched too long.Â
He didnât come back for you. Â
He didnât even think to.
Hands grip your jaw, cold metal pressing against skin. You thrash once, twice, but the strength is leaving you; your thoughts scatter like broken glass. Â
The last thing you hear before the needle sinks into the side of your neck is that same voice, calm, almost sympathetic. âYou were just the leftover piece, sweetheart. Donât feel too bad. Wrong place, wrong kind of love.â
Pain blooms white-hot, before it vanishes into nothing.
Heâll come back, you think. As the floor tilts beneath you.
He always comes back. Â
Then, a void.Â
â
Linkon feels different from Skyhaven. Brighter, louder, endlessly awake even during the night.
Caleb spends the first few nights pretending itâs a temporary reassignment, nothing more. Duty. Safety. Logic. All the things heâs supposed to understand better than anyone. Â
MC teases him for how restless he looks at the window. âYouâve been circling around like an idiot for an hour,â she says, handing him a mug of coffee. âWhateverâs on your mind, itâs going to give you wrinkles.â Â
He huffs a small laugh. âWrinkles build the man, pipsqueak.â Â
âYou donât need more of that.â She leans against the counter, all casual.
But tonight, it only reminds him of what isnât here. Â
MC tilts her head. âDid you at least let your girlfriend know you got here safe?â He freezes for half a beat. âShe knows the protocols,â he says finally.
âThatâs not an answer.â Â
He exhales. Drops his gaze to the liquid spinning in the cup. The rain on the glass matches its color almost perfectly. âI didnât want to worry her,â he mutters, almost to himself. Â
MC studies him a moment longer, then shrugs. âYou always think thatâs protecting people. Maybe⌠sometimes itâs just shutting them out.â She softens near the end, knowing her brother can be avoidant of his own feelings.
Her words hang in the air longer than they should. Â
When the communicator on his wrist buzzes. And for a moment, his stomach drops, remembering the message that started all this.
It plays back in his head, like a faultline cracking through calm: a voice scrambled by automated distortion flattening it into something both human and not.
We will hurt the person you love most. Soon.
Heâd stared at those words while she slept peacefully in their bed, the glow of the screen washing her face in pale light. Heâd thought of past ambushes, of reports with MCâs name circled in hazard red, of how sheâd been surveilled before because of his link as X-02. Those stupid fucking experiments.Â
His years of âtrainingâ since he was a child spoke first: calculate probability, reduce emotional interference. MC = high-value target. Logical priority. And heâd spent nearly his whole life with his little sister. Protecting her. They had leverage on her all the time. So it must be her⌠right?
Soon enough, dawn was spilling through his floor to ceiling windows. You stirred, half awake, murmuring⌠donât leave.Â
It shouldâve been enough to make him stay. But Caleb Xia was built from logic, and logic had saved him too many times to abandon it now.
He blinks, coming back to the present. The mug in his hand trembles. His knuckles ache.
MC is saying something. He doesnât catch it. The communicator crackles again, this time, louder.
The line crackles with interference, distant voices mixing with the sound of water hitting metal. A neighbor from Skyhaven stumbles through panic, the message choked with static:
âMr. Xia? Iâ there was a noise from your building. It was horrible. I think there was a woman screaming. And there were just many suspicious men all rushing through your door andââ
He doesnât hear the rest.
The mug slips, shattering on tile. Coffee streaks brown across the floor like dried blood.
âCaleb?â MCâs voice reaches him faintly. âWhatâs going on?â
Heâs already moving. Coat. Terminal. Gun. Every instinct flares alive but too late. Â
âFuck, fuckââ His voice shakes as he tries to call you repeatedly. Only to be left on voicemail.
MC tries to follow but heâs already at the door. The wind catches as it closes behind him.
â
His car cuts through the midnight streets, engine roaring against silence. Streetlights smear gold over rain slicks as his mind replays the message in burstsâ We will hurt the one you love most. Each phrase now blends with her voice in memory, words he never really answered.
He thought it meant MC.
He thought wrong.
And now, every second between the cityâs rings feel like punishment.
â
The ride back to Skyhaven feels endless. Heâs lucky to have strings to pull, getting on the train even if the last ride ended hours ago. Rain cuts across the window pane as the scenery changes as he moves past cities. Until eventually, he gets to his neighborhood. Each step makes him nervous as he gets closer to his front door. Mind reeling from what would be behind it.
Caleb tells himself youâre fine. That heâll arrive and find the call to be exaggerated. Somehow. That heâll open the door and youâll laugh at how tightly heâs gripping the handle.
But when the door finally slides open, all sound leaves him.
The apartment is spotless. The faint scent of detergent and ozone hands in the air. The lamp by the couch glows exactly how he remembers it.
And youâre there.
Sitting upright, blanket folded neatly beside you. The TV is off. Youâre still, hands resting on your lap as though youâve been waiting.
When you turn your head and smile, the world clicks into place and falls apart at once. âHoney, youâre home.â
The words are right. But somehow⌠itâs also wrong.
He drops his things, crossing the room in two quick strides as he locks the door in less than a second. âAre you okay? What happened? The neighbors called andââ
Your gaze follows him a second too slow. âIâm fine. Youâre drenched.â
He stops. âThere were reports of men.. of a break-in.â
Silence. Then, calm. âNo one came.â
He looks around. Not a thing out of place. Even the broken picture frame by the doorâ the one that fell the week before he leftâ is fixed.
âYou cleaned,â he says softly, stunned. âOf course you did.â
You stand, careful, fluid. âYou should shower before you catch a cold. I left dinner out for you.â
He moves to the table. Two plates. His served; yours untouched. The food is warm, impossibly soâ as if perfectly timed to his arrival. Caleb badly wants to ask how you knew, but his throatâs too tight.
âIâm sorry,â he says instead. âI shouldâve been here. I shouldnât haveââ
âItâs alright.â You lean against the wall near the lamp, eyes unfocused in the half-light. âYouâre here now. Thatâs enough.â
He crosses back to you, rests a hand against your cheek. Warm. Steady. No tremor, no tears. He searches for something familiar in your eyes. Heâs not entirely sure what, but he only saw his reflection in your irises. His heart clenches. Still, he wraps you tightly in his arms.
âDonât ever scare me like that again,â he pleads quietly.
Her lips part just enough for a smile. âOkay, honey.â
He laughs, weakly, relief cracking through his guilt. âYou even sound like youâre humoring me. You should be more mad.â
âWhy would I be?â
Itâs a joke. But you donât laugh.
When Caleb sists beside you on the couch, the air between them feels heavier somehow, despite his relief. The lamplight hums faintly; the rain outside stopped.
He looks around, the apartment looks exactly like it did the night he left.
But your favorite sitcom wasnât playing.
Your fingers stay on your lap.
And when he holds your wrist in his bigger hand, your pulse.. beats just a little too slow.
â
At first, he tries to restore normalcy. Â
He cooks you breakfast, tells himself the silence between you is comfort, not distance. When you forget to respond to little thingsâ his jokes, the sound of your nameâ he writes it off as exhaustion. Trauma, maybe. Itâs easier that way. Maybe you just missed him too much.
You still call him Honey. Always softly. Always rhythmically timed.
âGood morning, honey.â
âWelcome home, honey.â
âSleep well, honey.â
The first few days, it still warms him. Then the pattern sets in. Too even, too predictable. Each line lands with the same cadence, the same faint smile that never folds into laughter.
Sometimes he catches you sitting on the couch again. Posture perfectly straight, eyes on nothing. No TV, no sound. Just the glow of the lamp brushing your face like it did that first night. When he calls your name, you turn, apologizing, saying you lost track of time.
He finds you doing it every night. Always at the same hour. Always in the same spot.
A rhythm forms. Morning coffee you donât really drink, dinner served and cleaned before he can finish, a bed you lie in like a statue. He watches all your movements like a hawk; how your chest rises and falls in precise intervals. 1, 2, 3â breathe. If he didnât look closely, heâd think youâd been sleeping peacefully.
He clings to that lie.
Because acknowledging the alternative means admitting he left you here to break.
On the seventh night, he comes home early from base. The smell of something faintly sweet hits him as he unlocks the door. For a brief moment, his chest easesâ youâre cooking. Moving again.
He follows the smell into the kitchen.
Youâre standing by the stove, wooden spoon in hand, stirring something slowly.
âSmells good,â he says, smiling with cautious relief as he comes up behind you and kissing the back of your neck, then hiding his face in the junction of your shoulder breathing you in. âWhatâre you making?â
âDinner,â you answer without looking up.
He finally raises his head. The pot is empty. Just reflective metal catching the light in circular motions as the spoon scrapes against it. The sound grates against his nerves.Â
âHoney,â he says softly, reaching to still her hand, âitâs empty.â
You blink once, as if waking from a dream. âDinnerâs almost done.â Then you smile, turning back to the pot.
The scrape of metal fills the air again.
He stays the re a moment longer, staring at her profile. The steam that shouldâve been rising isnât there. His throat tightens, words crowding behind it but refusing to come out.Â
He backs away slowly, returning to the living room. The rhythm resumesâ the scrape, scrape, scrape like a clock ticking a world out of sync. Â
Thatâs when the smaller glitches start appearing.Â
Sometimes you repeat yourself mid-conversation, like replaying a moment you forgot to get right. Sometimes you laugh a little too late, or you stop all the sudden, the noise dying in your throat with confusion.Â
Once, you burnt your hand on the kettle. The water hisses, but you donât flinch until he grabs her wrist away.
â(Name), thatâsâ God, youâre hurt. Let go!â He rushes, getting the kettle off her hand with his gravity Evol, placing it on the counter; before checking your reddening hand.
You look at your skin, then at him, calm as rain. âIâm fine.â
âYouâre not. Youâre bleeding.â
âItâs fine, honey.â Your tone doesnât change.
He grips the counter hard enough for his fingers to ache. That phraseâ heâs starting to hate how easily it dissolves tension. How easily it can shut him down.
Later that night, lying beside her, he realizes you havenât called him anything else in weeks. No teasing names. No Caleb. Just one word, one note, replayed in perfect pitch.
And somewhere inside him, the awareness begins to grow.
Whatever came back with him, it isnât whole.
â
One evening, Caleb brings out an old bottle of wine youâd bought long ago for a night that never happened. He opens it anyway.
The living room feels too quiet without your laughter, so he tries to fill it with stories instead.
âRemember the first time we went to Yuhua Port together?â he starts, voice too light to hide the tremor underneath. âYou made friends with that stray cat who kept trying to steal your sandwich.â
You look up from the couch, smiling faintly. âYou mean the one near Skyhaven Station?â
He pauses. âNo, Yuhua Port. The cat had white patches on its paws, remember? You said they looked like socks.â
You tilt your head, as if searching. âRight. The orange one.â
âIt was gray.â
âWas it?â Your laugh is small, uncertain. âI remember orange.â
He laughs too, even though it lands hollow. ââYouâve got the worst memory, you know that?â Â
âI guess I do.â Â
The pause that follows is heavier than it should be. You still smile, but thereâs no flicker of embarrassment, no playfulnessâ none of the small reactions he knows by heart. Â
So he tries another. âOkay, then. What about the place I took you after that? When it rained the whole day.â Â
You hum, thinking, but itâs the wrong kind of thinkingâ measured, deliberate, like piecing something together from a blueprint. âYou took me to that cafĂŠ in Linkon.â Â
âNo,â he says softly. âWe stayed in Skyhaven. The little tea place by the docks.â Â
âOh⌠right.â Â
He starts to correct you again, then stops. His throatâs dry, the taste of wine bitter on his tongue. âYouâve just been tired lately. Itâs fine.â
âI feel fine.â You reach for his hand, skin against skin, warm and steady. It feels right. The warmth is there, but the pressure is all wrong.
He doesnât realize heâs staring until you tilt your head. Â
âWhat is it?â Â
âNothing.â He squeezes your fingers gently, forces a smile. âJust thinking how lucky I am.â Â
You smile back. âYou always say that.â Â
âI mean it this time.â Â
âSo did you, the last time.â Â
He laughs, because not laughing would mean falling apart. He refills both glasses though you havenât touched yours. Â
Later that night, as he rinses the empty glass in the sink, he notices thereâs no trace of wine in yours. The liquidâs still where he poured it. Â
Untouched. Â
He stands there for a long time, water running over his hands, until the sound drowns out every thought except one:Â Â
You remember everything, except the parts that make you you. And he doesnât know how to confront what heâs already suspecting.
â
You hear the door click open before you can stand from the couch. Â
The lamp hums, the same low glow as always. Â
Caleb steps through the doorway, eyes feverâbright from exhaustion, rain still clinging to his jacket. You open your mouth, gentle as habit. Â
âHoney, youâreââ Â
Heâs already kissing you. Â
Itâs rough, starved, more apology than desire. His hands move like a man trying to anchor himself somewhere solid. For a few seconds, you respond exactly as he remembersâ arms around him, lips soft, rhythm precise.Â
But when he deepens the kiss, somethingâs missing. No hitch in your breath, no tremor, no warmth rising from somewhere real. Â
He pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, voice shaking. âSay something.â Â
You blink up at him, calm. âYouâre home.â Â
His forehead presses to yours. âNot that. Please not that.â
You touch his cheek. âYouâre tired, honey.â Â
He flinches like the words burn. âStop calling me that if you donât mean it.â Â
âI alwaysââÂ
âNo, you donât!â His tone breaks; heâs halfway between a sob and a shout. âYou donât know what youâre saying! You donâtââ He laughs once, sharp, bitter. âAnd god, I justâ I keep pretending that you do.â
Your hands rest on his shoulders, perfectly steady. âIâm here.â Â
He steps back, chest heaving. âYeah. Youâre here. Everyone keeps saying thatâ you, the unit reports, the neighborsâŚâ
You tilt your head, almost curious.
âBut they said you were screaming. You were attacked, (Name). But I did everything I could, I triedâ I tried to get surveillance, I tried, but everythingâs clean and I just. Itâs like it never happened and I donât know what to do, but I know something happened to you, AND I DONâT KNOW WHAT TO DO!â He bursts out, tears already falling as he ends up screaming the last sentence with no control; pulling at his hair in frustration.
Silence. Â
He drags his fingers through his hair, trembling. âThey sent me that message. Weâll hurt the one you love most. And Iââ The sentence dies, then returns as a whisper: âI thought they meant someone else.â Â
You watch him, expression unchanged. âYou came back.â Â
âToo late.â He laughs again, hysterical now. âToo goddamn late.â He turns away, voice cracking. âI thought I could fix this. That if I just acted like nothing happened, youâd come back to me.â Â
âI waited,â you say gently.Â
He freezes. Â
The words land with unnatural precision. His gaze crawls back to your face, searching for the smallest sign that you understand. Â
Your smile doesnât move. âThatâs what you wanted, isnât it? For me to wait.â Â
Something inside him snaps. He hits the wall with his fist, the sound splintering through the room. âThatâs not what I wanted! I wanted you alive!â Â
You stay seated, voice soft, almost soothing. âYouâre alive. Iâm alive. Itâs fine.â Â
He staggers back toward you, falls to his knees in front of the couch. Tears mix with the leftover rain on his face. Â
âIâm so sorry,â he chokes. âI shouldâve stayed. I shouldâve been here. If I could trade places with youââ His words crumble into breathless sobs. Â
You reach out, running your fingers through his hair like youâve done a thousand times. The gesture is flawless, gentle, empty. Â
He melts into it anyway. Because thereâs nothing else left. Â
Your voice drifts down, tender, practiced:âHoney, youâre home.â
He breaks completely, the sound that leaves him more animal than human. Â
You keep stroking his hair, repeating the words until they lose meaning, until only their shape remains in the airâ warm, wrong, and endless.Â
â
Later.
He doesnât remember when the crying stopped. Only the weight of your hand in his hair and your voice, soft as static: âHoney, youâre home.âÂ
When he finally pulls away, youâre still smiling. The expression doesnât reach your eyes. His heart feels like itâs tearing itself in two.
He spends the next nights trying to repair a ghost.
You let him. You cook. You sit beside him when he falls asleep on the couch. You hold him whenever he wakes up shaking. Everything looks right on the surfaceâ too right. Thatâs what drives him harder to open the classified files. Dig deeper.
Until finally, he successfully gets the incident log from the night of the attack.
Thereâs nothing there at firstâ corrupted data, missing footageâ but then a suppressed note hidden under medical reports: subject sustained neuroâsomatic trauma; parasitic interference detected; neural override protocol inhibited due to host deterioration.
His stomach drops.
He scrolls again. Parasite responsive to emotional stress; external removal will induce cortical implosion.
The air leaves his lungs. It explains everything. You blanking out, your recent extreme perfectionism, like a doll. He almost thought it was a Toring Chip just like his, but he finds this much, much worse.
Everâs experiment. Xâ02âs counterpart. They made you into surveillance wrapped in skin.
He looks up from the file to where youâre standing at the sink, humming faintly. Itâs the same tune you used to hum when cooking breakfast, except now the tempo never changes. He canât tell if youâre doing it or the thing inside you is.
âDid theyââ he starts, voice barely there, âDid they hurt you before theyââ
You turn, wiping your hands carefully on a towel. âIt doesnât matter. Youâre home.â
He tries again, words breaking apart. âYou know what they did to you, donât you?â
A flicker in your smileâ a tiny tremor. âI know you left.â
He almost staggers under it. âNo, Iââ
âYou always leave. And then you come back and say sorry.â Still calm, still gentle. âItâs fine, honey. Iâm used to it.â
He can feel the edges of the parasite now, folded through the cadence of your voiceâ its mimicry feeding on every emotion you never said aloud. Your resentment. Your exhaustion. Your love stretched thin until it snapped and let something else inside.
He wants to fight. He wants to tear the thing out of you, damn the consequences. But the warning screens pulse behind his eyelids: external removal will induce cortical implosion.
If he fights it, it kills you. Â
If he leaves it, he loses you. Â
So he does the only thing left. Â
He takes your hand. Itâs warm, steady, steady in that wrong way. He presses his lips to your knuckles and speaks around the tears that wonât stop falling from his eyes.
âIâll stay. I wonât go anywhere anymore. I promise.â
You tilt your head, that same patient smile returning. âYou always say that.â
âI mean it this time.â
âSo did you the last time.â Â
He almost laughs. Almost.Â
Then he lets you pull him down beside you on the couch. The lamp hums faintly; the night settles into the same rhythm it always has. Â
Outside, Skyhaven glows. And a faint thunderstorm bellows. Inside, the two of you sit together in perfect stillness, your head on his chest, as he lays you both down on the couchâ both knowing, neither saying.Â
Because if he does, you die. Â
And if he doesnât, heâs already dead.
â
Another night, he comes home late.
The lamp is on. Youâre on the couch, back straight, hands folded. No TV. No sound.
âHoney, youâre home,â you say.
He hesitates only a second now before crossing the room. He sits beside you, rests his head against your shoulder like he used to. He closes his eyes.
He came home late again. And you were waiting for him, just like always.
Do you think other Lemurians think Rafayel is weird af for calling himself a "fishie" around MC? Like, do you think "fishie" is the Lemurian equivalent of a human calling themselves someone's "puppy"?
Do you think Rafayel gets kink-shamed by other Lemurians?
Childhood trio Pt. A toast from Caleb to ZayneMC
Caleb: Everybody, I'd like to make a toast.
Zayne: Oh, dear. This should be good.
Caleb: To Zayne and MC. ANDDD to loooovvvee... AAAH LOVE. L O V E, love! L is for life, and what is life without love?
MC, whispering: Oh my God, are we supposed to answer?
Caleb: O is for... oh wow! V is for this very surprising turn of events, which, I am still fine with by the way...
Zayne:
Caleb: EEE! is for how EXTREMELY NORMAL I find it that you two, are together, and that one day you may get married, and have children of your own...
Zayne: Caleb, are you okay?
Caleb: Totally!
MC: You don't seem ok..
Caleb, on the verge of tears: I'm sorry, it must be the pressure of entertaining.
cw. drabble (<500 wc). kind of ominous? tense? just a short exploration
"IF I SUCK YOUR DICK HARD ENOUGH, do you think the chip in your head will come out?"
Immediately after saying that, you're hit with a spray of water right on the face. The once gelid, vacant home is then filled with horrified shrieks and exaggerated "ew"s, courtesy of you. Hand towel hurriedly dabbing at your damp skin, you groan into the towel.
"Did you have to spit all over meâ"
"If you what my what?" There's a shrillness to Caleb's voice, peaking at the end.
There's not a single ounce of shame on your face when he searches for it. Nothing but nonchalance ribboned in innocuous intent, delivered in the form of the most vulgar words he's ever heard from you since this renewed relationship. And it baffles him even more how you could ask such questions with a straight face.
Then it hits him, and his brows are furrowing before he rises to his feet. "You remember the chip?"
Something shifts in your gaze. He picks up on it far too quickly â how something icy crawls over the irises.
"If I ask you what you mean, will you lie?" You reply, calm.
A frown manifests on his face. "No, you know Iâ"
"Do I, Caleb?" Gaze challenging, he's silenced by the weight of your newly posed inquiry. This time, it lacks the comedic relief the first one did. "Do I wanna know?"
His mouth runs dry.
Fingers tapping on the wood, you press your lips to the rim of your mug, eyes peering at him knowingly from under your lashes.
And smile.
Random 2am head canon: if youâve ever had a dream about Caleb being unrealistically mean like cheating on you or calling you names he would refer to dream Caleb as evil Caleb.
Youâd walk around him with a small pout not acknowledging him.
âWhyâre you avoiding me?â He stepped in front of you.
âIâm not,â
âYou are,â His finger reached out tapping your forehead. âYouâve been frowning all day. By this rate youâll get wrinkles before your 40s,â He chuckled. âReally whatâs bothering you pipsqueak,â With a huff, you crossed your arms.
âYou called me ugly last night,â you grumbled. Caleb frowned. He didnât speak his eyes widened slightly. âIn my dream,â
âJeez pipsqueak you scared me,â he sighed. He even bent down placing his hands on his thighs like you had winded him. So dramatic you thought. âI canât believe he said that to you,â he said, standing up and ruffling your hair. âYouâre adorable evil Caleb clearly doesnât know what heâs talking about,â
âEvil Caleb?â
Caleb nodded. âEvil Caleb attacks you while you sleep,â
His words made you smile. It even made you forget all about evil Caleb's mean words.
omg i just remembered that a segment in my dream a few nights ago was caleb planning to lock me up??? i think and i found out about it and was scared so i kept trying to run away GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING RUN BAAACKKKK



