Hypocrisy

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

On the day, my husband, Eugene Doyle, receives the offer to further his studies in the city, he serves me divorce papers instead. I, Maria Johnston, am eight months pregnant with his child. He tries to console me. "Maria, ever since my elder brother, Edgar, passed away, Janice has had nobody taking care of her. She can't survive on her own. "I'll marry her for the time being, just on paper, until she manages to find her footing in the city. After that, I'll come back and marry you again." Everyone assumes that I will patiently and obediently wait for Eugene to return because of my pregnancy. However, I tear up his written oath to me and terminate the pregnancy that same day. Then, with the offer letter for the National Archeology Certification in my hands, I leave our little village and disappear from Eugene's life. Five years later, I become a successful archeologist and return to the same village for a survey. My current husband, Rupert Kingston, can't come at the same time as me due to an emergency meeting, but he has informed the villagers to welcome me with open arms ahead of time. To my surprise, I meet my ex-husband instead. He says, "I know that you lost your baby at eight months. There's no need to be ashamed about it. It's about time you came back after running away from home all those years ago. "Janice is about to give birth. We need you to be her nanny."

Married three years. Stood up three years. Today was the last time I bothered showing up. Surprise—he bailed again. Still clinging to hope like a total idiot, I called. One last shot. "A-Aurora, I'm busy. Just wait," he muttered. And then her voice cut in. All breathy and smug: "That old woman can't satisfy you, huh? Paolo, be gentle." Click. Right on cue, Marco Medici—loyal, patient, saint-like Marco—sent his 99th proposal. This time, I didn't leave him hanging. [Want to come over for bollito misto?]

My sister, Anna Hawkins, and I are twins, but I'm slightly heavier than her when we were born. Anna has always been weak and sickly since young, whereas I'm always active and healthy. When Anna was four years old, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Mom blamed me for stealing Anna's nutrients when I got born, so I needed to return the nutrients to her. When I got my blood extracted for the first time, a thick syringe was used on me. I was so scared when I saw it. Mom told me not to be scared. She gave me a magical pen, stating that whatever wish I wrote down with the pen would come true. I wrote, "It won't hurt." When the syringe was plunged into my arm again, Mom bought me a sweet lollipop. The pain never struck me again afterward. When I was five years old, I drew a strawberry cake on the paper while getting 1000cc blood withdrawn from me. That week, Anna could sit up in bed and play on her own. When I turned seven years old, I wrote down my wish that I'd like to go on a vacation. The next day, I was sent into the operating theater for the doctors to collect my hematopoietic cells. For the first time ever, Anna's cheeks became rosy. When I was eight years old, I wrote that I wanted to become the top student of my grade. But a day before my exams, my bone marrow was drawn from me. Anna finally got discharged by the hospital. She got to wear new dresses that I never got to wear. In the year I turn nine years old, my body is heavily depleted. With a trembling hand, I can only write down a line in messy handwriting. "I hope… that I won't become Mom's daughter in my next life."

During the New Year’s, on the highway back home to our hometown, my younger brother pestered us to stop for a bathroom break. My mother nudged both my older sister and me. “The next rest stop is quite far from here. You should head to the washroom; otherwise, you’ll regret it later. “Be quick; don’t dilly-dally!” Just as I jumped out, my family’s car pulled away and started driving away. The temperature was close to the freezing point, but my parents left me behind at an unmanned rest stop. I could only rush over and yell after them, “Dad! Mom!”

After a falling out with my long-distance boyfriend, I decide to secretly fly home to patch things up with him. Unexpectedly, I catch him fooling around at home with his secretary. "Do you need to be so mad? I only got someone to act as your stand-in. Ultimately, you're still the one I love." I listen to his preposterous lies and hide my stomach cancer diagnosis behind my back. I say, "It's not a bad idea to gather more of these fakes. You won't be too upset when I'm dead." But after I die, he loses his mind when he looks at his secretary's face.

For over thirty years, my wife Janet faked being broke—for her flimsy ex. When our son Asher landed in the hospital, I begged and borrowed from everyone I knew. Still came up fifty bucks short. Janet? Said she was tapped out. So my mom sold off her own meds to cover the bill—never told me. She died without treatment. I handled my mom's funeral alone. When I went to pick up Asher from the hospital, I found a stash of Janet's old shopping receipts. Custom suits. Million-dollar watches. A damn private jet. I grabbed them and stormed off to confront her. Asher cut me off. "Dad, Mr. Sackett's sick. Mom's just helping him out. Why are you freaking out?" I stared at the kid who only lived because my mom died. It felt like something cracked inside me. Janet barely looked up. "Connor's educated. He deserves the finer things. Unlike you—crying over fifty bucks like some househusband. See? I didn't give you the money, and Asher's fine." Fine. If that's how they see it, I'm done with this family.

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.

"System, I request to leave the mission world." The summoned system quickly appeared. "Ms. Young, your request has been approved. You have half a month to say goodbye to your family in this world." With that said, the system disappeared again. Andrea Young paused for a long time at the mention of the word "Family" before slowly looking toward the family photo on the table beside her. In the photo, her husband and son were each lovingly kissing her cheeks. The happiness captured in that moment suddenly left her stunned. No one knew Andrea was on a mission. Ten years ago, the system brought her into this world to win the heart of Gabriel Fulton, the crown prince of Capital City. They went from attending school together to the wedding altar over the past decade. She not only completed her mission, but also fell in love with the target of her mission.

My mom is a famous perfumer who's well-known in town. But her perfumes are charged per session. One session costs 200 thousand dollars. She only takes in ten customers per month, too. Those who have used the perfumes my mom has concocted will be enveloped by the perfumes' unique fragrance that leaves an unforgettable impression on those who have smelled it. In fact, the fragrance is capable of covering up the customers' body odor, no matter how strong it is. One session will leave the customers with enough fragrance that lasts for a month. Countless celebrities and rich women specifically travel to this town just to frequent my mom's business. Everyone sings praises about my mom, claiming that she's the mistress of all fragrances who's here to bless humanity with her gift. But I know that my mom isn't as amazing as everyone thinks she is. The only reason why her business is booming like this is all thanks to the "thing" that she keeps locked up in that room…