Se connecterAfter Edwin’s first love arrived, I left his home without telling anyone. The first week after I left, he didn't care at all. He spent the week doting on her first love, taking her to social gatherings, making people gossip about me being left. The second week after I left, his friends began placing bets on whether I would come back crawling or scheme against Rose and cry for attention. Edwin heard them making jokes about me, and he actually laughed, keeping Rose on his lap. The third week after I left, he tracked me down and barged into my door. “Stop all this drama, Victoria.” He spat, “Rose’s heart is delicate. Your heart is the right match for her. Donate your heart to her, and I’ll marry you.” But what he expected from me, a long confrontation or an ocean of tears, he didn't get at all. “Okay,” I replied, my voice as calm as the ocean. “When is the surgery’s date?” Edwin froze at his place. What he didn't know was that I was not the Victoria he remembered. I had been transported into his world after an accident, and only by fulfilling his hundred wishes could I finally return to my own. And, this was his hundredth wish!
Voir plusI looked at his outstretched hand. I looked at his piercing blue eyes, which used to dictate whether my day would be heaven or hell.For three years, my heartbeat had been tethered to his approval. I had memorized his preferences, anticipated his anger, and molded myself into a perfect, compliant doll just to keep my sanity intact.Slowly, I stood up straight, pulling my hands away and burying them deep in the pockets of my new coat."No," I said.Edwin’s face fell, the hope draining from his features just as it had from Mark's the night before. "Victoria...""You say you did it to survive, Edwin, and maybe that's true," I said, my voice gaining a steady, resolute strength I didn't know I possessed. "But you survived by breaking me. Every time you turned your back on me, every time you looked at me like I was nothing but a nuisance, you left a scar. You might have been wearing a mask, but the trauma I felt was entirely real.""I can heal those scars," he begged, a desperate edge to his
The world narrowed to a pinpoint.I couldn't breathe. The gleaming marble floor beneath my feet felt as fragile as thin ice, ready to crack and plunge me back into the neon-lit abyss of the System.It’s a glitch, my mind screamed. A residual hallucination.But as Mark led him toward me, the footsteps were too heavy, the laughter too real. Edwin was here. "Vic! You won't believe this," Mark beamed, completely oblivious to the phantom executioner standing beside him. "This is the friend I was telling you about last night. The one who helped me track your data footprint. Vic, meet—""Edwin," I whispered, the name tasting like ash on my tongue.Mark blinked, surprised. "Wait, you two know each other?"Edwin’s striking blue eyes locked onto mine. The cold, calculating gaze I remembered so vividly softened into something entirely foreign: desperation."Mark," Edwin said, his voice deep and gravelly, lacking the smooth, modulated perfection of his digital counterpart. "Could you give us a mo
"No," I said.The word left my mouth before Mark could even finish his sentence, sharp and cold enough to cut through the warm, domestic air of the villa.Mark blinked, the eager energy draining from his face, replaced by a look of startled hurt. "Vic? You don't even know anything about him yet. He’s not just some guy, he’s—""I don't care who he is, Mark. I'm not meeting him." I set my fork down on the edge of my plate with a dull clatter. My appetite was entirely gone, replaced by a familiar, suffocating weight in my chest."Vic, please," Mark said softly, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. "He’s been a massive part of my life. He helped me find you. I told him everything about you, and he already likes you so much without even meeting you. I just thought... You would at least give him a chance. I thought you'd want to know the people who care about me.""I care about you," I whispered, my voice trembling with a sudden, fierce defensiveness. "Isn't that enough? W
"I'm here," I whispered, my voice muffled by his shirt. "Mark, I’m right here.""Table four needs their danishes, Mark," a voice called out tentatively from the kitchen hatch.Mark didn't let go immediately. He took a long, shuddering breath, his fingers digging into my shoulders one last time before he finally pulled back. His face was a map of disbelief, blotchy and wet with tears, but his eyes—the same dark amber as our mother's—were entirely focused on me."Mr. Henderson," Mark called out, not looking away from my face. "I need to leave. Right now. My sister... my sister is alive."There was a muffled gasp from the back, followed by the clatter of a metal tray. A burly man with a graying beard poked his head out, looked at Mark, then at me, and nodded fiercely. "Go, kid. Take the week. Just get out of here."Mark’s apartment was three blocks away, a small, cramped studio above a dry cleaner's. It smelled of steam, laundry detergent, and the cheap instant coffee he always insisted o






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