Emotional Closet

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

Just one week into my new job, I was wrongfully accused of cooking the books, and it cost me five years behind bars. After that, my wife found out she was pregnant. She insisted on having the baby and promised to wait for me to come home. Out of gratitude, I threw myself into work after my release. I did everything I could to give them a good life. It was until one day, I overheard a conversation between my wife and our son. “Mom, don’t let Dad come out with us. It’s embarrassing! Why did you pin Mr. Scott’s crime on him back then?! And now, the girl next door keeps making fun of me, saying my dad’s a criminal!” My wife gently pulled our son close and comforted him, saying, “I promised Mr. Scott I’d help him. Your dad’s so naive. He’ll never find out.” It turned out that my supposed happy life was nothing but lies and betrayal!

I return to my hometown after becoming the wealthiest person in the world. I stand beside a luxury car I bought for my father and call him—I want him to be surprised when he picks me up. However, this backfires on me. I joke with him and tell him my company has gone bankrupt. My debtors are coming after me, so I'm home to flee from them. I end up standing under the sweltering sun until the sky goes dark and it starts to pour—my father never shows up to see his gift. I brave the rain as I head home. Before I even enter the house, I can sense my sister-in-law's panic. "Listen to me—don't tell that jinx that Dad has just won a million dollars!" My mother says, "I knew having a daughter was a bad decision. It's bad enough that she doesn't have money for us—why is she coming home when she's in trouble? She should just die out there!" My father sneers. "Well, we can sell her off to that cripple in the village. Maybe she'll fetch a good price!"

On the first day I take my daughter, Layla Gibson, to an elite kindergarten, I'm told that Layla hasn't been admitted to the kindergarten at all. I call my husband, Maverick Gibson, on the spot. After all, he's the one in charge of enrolling Layla in the kindergarten. How is it possible for her to not fit the criteria to be accepted into the kindergarten? In an upset tone, Maverick tells me that the kindergarten has gotten it wrong. "I'm sorry, darling. Our company's assets have yet to reach the minimum requirement that's needed for the kindergarten to accept Layla as a student. "I was worried that you'd be saddened when you found out about this, so I didn't say anything about this. This is my fault for not working hard enough. Because of me, Layla lost to her peers in terms of education." After ending the call, I call my dad, who's actually a board member of the kindergarten. At the same time, I have my lawyer draft a divorce agreement. I'm interested to see which bastard child has taken Layla's spot, which has already been reserved by my dad a long time ago.

On the day I attend the centennial celebration of my alma mater, I encounter my first love, Victor Whitmore. After he delivers a speech as an alumni representative, he publicly presents me with a diamond ring. "Back then, you said you wanted to use your 'Wild Roses' design to make me a wedding ring. Now it's my turn to propose. Claire Webb, will you marry me?" The auditorium erupts in excitement. Everyone waits for me to nod tearfully in agreement. After all, I once pursued Victor with such passion that it shocked the entire school. However, everyone has forgotten something. Back then, I was accused of plagiarizing Emma Palmer's work for my graduation project. Victor knew the truth, yet he slandered me as the plagiarizer. At the press conference, as the brand representative, he announced that they would cease collaboration with me and called for me to be blacklisted across the industry. On the very day my reputation was ruined, I moved abroad. Now that I'm back, his close friend keeps advising me. "He's been waiting for you all these years. Even though you embarrassed him back then, you're still the one in his heart. "He even made a scene at the principal's office just to get your graduation certificate. Claire, he truly loves you."

I loved eating cakes. My dad would bring me one every day after work, and my mom bought a full set of oven and baking tools, patiently learning how to bake them for me. I once thought I was the happiest little princess in the world until the day my parents divorced. The person who came to pick up my dad turned out to be the bakery owner. My mom turned to me, growling, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't asked for cakes every day, your dad never would've cheated!" She stretched out her hands, covered in burn scars, and screamed hysterically, "I slaved away making cakes for you, and these hands have never healed since. What did you do? You both think the stuff from outside is so much better!" She grabbed a baking sheet and smacked me hard with it. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. That night, she brought home a little girl. Ignoring the pain all over my body, I begged for her forgiveness. "Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't throw me away. I swear I'll never eat another cake!" She slapped me across the face, but that wasn't enough to quench her anger. She tossed me into the big oven. "I'm not your mom! You love cakes so much? Stay in there and reflect on what you've done! You and your worthless dad both deserve to die!" After she slammed the door and stormed out, the little girl skipped over to the oven, grinning smugly as she hit the switch. "From now on, your mom is gonna be mine!" The oven kicked on, and the temperature began to rise. I smiled bitterly. At least this way, my mom could finally be happy.

I'm sold into the underground and turned into an anthropodermic fan, suffering endless days of humiliation. It isn't until my spine shatters from a hammered nail that my brother—Daxon Smyth—and my fiance—Joshua Moore—finally arrive. The two men who've doted on me for 20 years swear to make the guilty pay in blood. And I think my salvation has come. But when I overhear their words, I realize the truth—every torment I've suffered is of their doing, all to make me behave and stop me from competing with the true heiress they've found. When another man carries me away from that place, they lose their minds and scour through all ends of the world, trying to find me.

I exercised too hard during the day and, by midnight, a sharp pain tore through my stomach. When I checked my pants, there was blood. I called my friend immediately and had him rush me to the hospital. The moment I finished explaining my symptoms, the doctor did not even pause to think before saying, "This is a potential miscarriage. We need to start treatment right away." My eyes went wide. I opened my mouth to protest, but she steamrolled right over me. Her gaze dripped with contempt. "I see dozens of patients every day. I know exactly what you women are like. Probably had abortion after abortion in school with zero self-respect. Now that you're getting older, you want to trap some nice guy into cleaning up your mess." I had never met such an unprofessional doctor in my life. Anger flared in my chest, and I threatened to report her on the spot. She barely blinked. "Touched a nerve, huh? I'm just trying to help you out here. Doctors have it so hard these days. Tell someone the truth and complaints are all you get." The whispers started around me. People staring, judging, pointing. I had truly had enough. Had it occurred to literally anyone that I might just be a guy with long hair?

Housing prices collapsed. My parents ran a real estate business. They and their long-time family friend, the Goodwin family, went into bankruptcy. My parents had me and my younger sister draw lots to decide who would marry into the Goodwin family to fulfill an old engagement. In my previous life, I drew the short stick. From that moment, I became a slave to both families. During the day, I needed to work to pay off the Goodwin family’s debt. At night, I needed to deliver food to cover my parents’ financial losses. I survived on scraps and slept in the cold. I continued to work even when I coughed up blood. That day, I went all out and finally secured a multimillion-dollar business deal. My heart burst with excitement. I was eager to tell them the good news. Across the street, I saw my parents get off a Rolls-Royce with wide grins. They dressed up in luxury brands from head to toe. Then, I saw my husband, Alfred, gently wrap one of his arms around my glamorous sister’s shoulder. I wanted to rush over and question them. But a speeding truck slammed into me and sent me flying away. I lay in a pool of blood while staring at them indignantly. I heard them chuckle softly. “What a pity… She was so close to enjoying a good life.” When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I drew the lots. Since they liked to pretend to be broke, I would make it a reality!

Ang anak ng first love ng tatay ko ay nagdusa sa heatstroke dahil iniwan ito sa sasakyan, kaya itinali niya ako sa galit at ikinulong ako sa loob ng kotse. Tinignan niya ako nang may labis na pagkamuhi at sinabing, “Wala akong malupit na anak na tulad mo. Manatili ka rito at pagnilayan mo ang sarili mo.” Nagmakaawa ako sa kanya, humingi ako ng kapatawaran sa kanya, at nakiusap na palabasin niya ako, pero ang nakuha ko lang bilang kapalit ay ang kanyang malupit na utos. “Maliban kung mamatay siya, walang sinong pwedeng magpalabas sa kanya.” Nakaparada ang kotse sa garahe. Walang makarinig sa akin kahit gaano kadaming beses akong sumigaw. Makalipas ang pitong araw, sa wakas ay naalala niya ako at nagpasyang palabasin na ako. Gayumpaman, wala siyang ideya na namatay na ako sa loob at hindi na muling magigising.