My wife’s college buddy has a sports system, and it’s bound to me. As long as I lie still, he can keep moving forever. All his fatigue? It transfers directly to me. So, my wife ties me to the bed while he runs a marathon… and wins. She even drugs me with sleeping pills, so he can finish a two-mile swim without breaking a sweat. My body is falling apart, while he's raking in prize money and accolades. And my wife? She just sneers at me. "Look at Ryan," she'll say. "He's built like a rock. And you? You're so useless, your muscles are turning to mush." I stay still, he keeps moving? If I stay perfectly still... he can just keep moving... indefinitely? Fine. The night before New Year's, they made plans to ring it in together. All night long. So I went to a research hospital, signed a waiver, and had myself cryogenically frozen for one year. I'm going to make sure their special New Year's celebration lasts the entire year. Let's see them break a world record. 1 Sophie walked towards me, another wide cloth strap in her hand. It was a familiar routine. Every time Ryan had a competition, she would tie me down first. When I tried to struggle, her voice would drop to a gentle murmur. "Hush now, sweetie. Just cooperate. It's only for a few hours. I'll lie here with you." I stared at her, bewildered. "Sophie, what in the world are you doing?" She didn't answer, just pushed me down onto the bed. My body was completely immobilized. On the TV, a marathon was being broadcast live. Sophie’s friend from college, Ryan, was one of the runners. I watched with a deepening frown. Not ten minutes in, a sharp, aching burn shot up from my calves, the kind you get after sprinting three miles. The soreness was so intense I couldn't stop a groan from escaping my lips. I tried to get up, but Sophie held me down with surprising strength. She cradled my head, a smile playing on her lips. "Just bear with it, honey. I'll give you a massage." As her fingers kneaded my cramping muscles, her eyes were glued to the TV, shining with excitement. On screen, Ryan was running with an effortless, steady pace, not a bead of sweat on his face. He was a stark contrast to the other runners, who were panting and drenched. The faster he ran, the more agony I felt. Every one of his strides sent a fresh wave of pain through me, as if I were the one running—no, it was worse, more exhausting than if I were running it myself. Whenever I felt like I was about to break, Sophie would press down harder, pinning me to the bed. I don't know how much time passed, but finally, the announcer’s voice boomed, "And we have a winner!" Ryan crossed the finish line and was immediately swarmed by a crowd. Sophie let out a sigh of relief and finally untied me. Ryan accepted the trophy, then beamed at the camera. "Sophie, my angel, did you see that? I won! I have to thank you. Knowing you're there for me, day or night, gives me all the strength I need." I looked up at Sophie. She stood by the bed, her face a mask of pride, joy, and relief. And I trembled with a rage that consumed me whole. 2 I was a dead weight on the bed, without the strength to even lift a finger. I watched Sophie casually toss the cloth straps onto the sofa, my voice raspy with exhaustion and suspicion. "Sophie, why did you tie me up?" She was bent over, changing her shoes. She froze for a second, and when she turned back to me, the excitement from the broadcast was gone, replaced by a cold impatience. "I told you to cooperate. Why do you ask so many questions?" A bitter smile twisted my lips. The ache in my body hadn't faded, and every word was an effort. "Cooperate? You trussed me up and made me lie here in agony, and you call that 'cooperating'? And you, spending your days and nights with Ryan… what exactly are you two doing?" Sophie’s brow furrowed into a harsh line. "What are you implying? Ryan is just a friend from college. He's under a lot of pressure training for his competitions. What's wrong with me looking out for him? He's a gifted athlete, a champion bringing home medals. And you? All you do is lie here and let your imagination run wild." I repeated her words, my heart clenching as if squeezed by an icy fist. "Looking out for him? You 'look out for him' by tying me to the bed? Am I just a pawn in your little game?" "Don't be ridiculous," Sophie snapped, her tone hardening. "I told you not to overthink it. He's like a little brother to me. Ryan won the championship. It's a huge honor. You should be happy for me, but instead, you're sitting here wallowing in jealousy. Is that really necessary?" I opened my mouth to argue, but my throat felt tight, and no words came out. It was always like this. Whenever Ryan had a competition, she'd find some excuse to make me stay put, either claiming I was overworked and needed rest or concocting some other bizarre reason to keep me immobilized. I used to dismiss it as my own paranoia, but this time was different. The searing pain of being bound, the bone-deep fatigue, and the sight of Ryan running so freely on TV… it was all like a thousand tiny needles, pricking me into a state of horrified clarity. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. My health was deteriorating. The slightest movement left me breathless, yet Ryan seemed more energetic than ever, raking in awards. There had to be a connection, something I was missing. Just then, a knock came from the door. Sophie’s face instantly lit up with a warm smile, and her voice softened with a tenderness I hadn't heard directed at me in a long time. "Ryan! You're here! Come in, you were amazing. I almost cried watching you win." Ryan walked in, his steps light and bouncy. His eyes fell on me, and a smirk of pure mockery spread across his face. "Still in bed, Marcus? You should get up and move around a bit. It’s not healthy to lie around all day. Look at me—you gotta keep moving to stay strong." He casually waved the trophy in his hand, its golden gleam stabbing at my eyes. Sophie looked at him with an expression of pure adoration, then turned her cold gaze on me. "Well? Aren't you going to get up and make Ryan something to eat? Lie there any longer and your limbs will just waste away." 3 There was no way I was making them dinner. In the end, Sophie cooked some instant ramen. As I drifted in and out of a pained stupor, I could hear their hushed whispers from the living room. They must have thought I was sound asleep. Their voices were low, but the words drifted into the bedroom with chilling clarity. "Sophie," Ryan said, his voice laced with a confident smile. "I'm definitely going to win the three-thousand-meter swim tomorrow. After I get the prize money, how about we spend New Year's Eve together? You know you're my only New Year's wish, right?" Sophie’s reply was a little flustered, almost shy. "Ryan, your stamina is incredible. You just ran a marathon, and now you’re ready for a three-thousand-meter swim tomorrow. But… spending the whole night together… I’m not sure I can handle that." Ryan chuckled softly. "Don't worry, my angel. I'll be gentle. We'll have the whole night to ourselves. What do you say?" After a brief pause, Sophie’s voice returned, hesitant. "But… I just can't shake the guilt. Maybe I should just divorce him. It feels so wrong doing this behind his back." Ryan’s tone shifted. "Sophie, you can't divorce him now. This sports system I have… it's bound to him. It only works if he’s lying perfectly still. All his fatigue gets dumped on Marcus, and that’s how I win these championships." My world froze. Ryan has a system? And it’s bound to me? I held my breath, pressing my ear against the headboard, and fumbled for my phone to start recording. Ryan’s voice softened again, becoming persuasive, coaxing. "If you divorce him, how will you control him? What if he runs off or refuses to cooperate? The system would be useless." "Sophie, just wait a little longer. After a few more major competitions next year, we'll have enough prize money and fame to set us up for life." "By then, he'll be a wreck anyway. A vegetable who can't even walk. If he… passes away… no one would suspect a thing. Once he's gone, we can finally be together, openly. I'll marry you." Sophie hesitated for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. "Okay. I'll listen to you. You focus on your race tomorrow. I'll make sure he stays put. And tomorrow night… we'll have our New Year's Eve. I'm all yours." "You're the best, Sophie," Ryan purred. "But you have to time it right. You need to get him up and moving after my race is over, or I won't be able to stop either." "Don't worry," Sophie replied softly. "I know the rules. Don't let him stay still for too long, or you'll be stuck in motion. I understand." Lying in the darkness, a glacial coldness seeped into my bones, as if my blood had turned to ice. So that was it. That was why I was getting weaker and weaker while Ryan was an unstoppable champion. That was why Sophie was always finding ways to keep me in bed. It wasn't paranoia. It wasn't me being jealous. I really was just a pawn in their game. A stepping stone for Ryan's success. A tool to be used and then discarded. 4 The next morning, the TV in the living room was blasting the sports channel, showing the pre-race preparations for the three-thousand-meter swim. I leaned against the headboard, the aches from the previous day still clinging to me. Sophie came in, holding the same cloth strap from yesterday, her expression blank. "Lie down, Marcus. Cooperate." I frowned, my voice hoarse. "No. I'm not doing it." She froze, and her brow immediately tightened. "What's gotten into you? It's just for a few hours. Just tolerate it." She reached for my arm, but I yanked it away. Sophie stared at me for a few seconds, then, as if an idea struck her, she turned and left the bedroom. She returned a moment later with a glass of milk, her tone softened, laced with a familiar, deceitful sweetness. "Fine, no straps. Here, drink some milk. You look like you didn't sleep well." As she held the glass out, the faint, chemical smell of a pill mixed with the scent of milk hit my nose. A cold smile touched my lips. Sleeping pills. Her go-to trick. I turned my head away, avoiding her hand. "I don't want it." Sophie's patience finally snapped. Her face twisted into a snarl. "Marcus, are you determined to fight me on this?" From the TV, the commentator's excited voice announced that the swimmers were in position and the race was about to begin. Sophie grew more frantic. Her eyes were locked on me when she suddenly pointed out the window. Instinctively, I glanced over. The next thing I knew, a blinding pain exploded at the back of my head. I whipped my head back around to see her holding a glass ashtray, its edge smeared with my blood. I gasped, my voice shaking with disbelief and fury. "Sophie, you bitch!" Then, everything went black. I don't know how long I was out. I was jolted awake by Sophie shaking me. The throbbing in my head was relentless, and waves of dizziness made it hard to open my eyes. "Wake up. Stop playing dead!" It was Sophie's voice, tinged with a cheerful lightness. I forced my eyes open. Through my blurry vision, I saw the awards ceremony on TV. Ryan was holding another trophy, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. Sophie stood by the bed, a proud smile on hers. "Ryan won again! See? I told you he could do it." I tried to move my fingers, to push myself up, but felt something sticky on my cheek. I reached up and my hand came away covered in blood. Sophie’s eyes remained fixed on Ryan on the screen. "You're bleeding," she said without turning. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" Gritting my teeth, I summoned every ounce of strength I had and struggled to sit up. Every movement sent a fresh spike of pain through my skull, and my vision kept blacking out. I stumbled to the doorway and looked back at Sophie. She was still standing there, her gaze locked on the TV, without the slightest intention of even helping me to the door. "I'm spending New Year's with Ryan tonight. Don't wait up," she said, her voice full of anticipation, her back still to me. I gripped the doorframe, a chilling cold spreading through my veins. You two are spending New Year's Eve together? I stay still, he keeps moving? He can keep moving... indefinitely? Fine. I will give you two a New Year's Eve you will never, ever forget. 5 Before I left the apartment, I slipped a small digital recorder into Sophie’s purse. Then I went to the nearest urgent care to get my head wound treated. After they stitched me up, I walked straight to the hospital's research wing. I remembered scrolling on my phone a while back and seeing an ad for volunteers for a long-term cryogenic study. It was for a full year, and during that time, no one had the authority to terminate the experiment. At the time, I’d dismissed it as a bizarre piece of trivia. I never imagined it would become my salvation. The director’s office was simple, his desk buried under stacks of papers. When I walked in, he was organizing files. He looked up. "Here to inquire about the cryogenics trial?" I nodded and asked if it was possible to start tonight. The director pushed his glasses up his nose and handed me a waiver. "We can. The rules are firm: once the process begins, you'll be frozen for one year. There will be no contact and no early termination. Are you absolutely sure about this?" I picked up the pen and signed my name without a moment's hesitation. As midnight approached, my phone buzzed. It was a video call from Ryan. I stared at the screen for a second before swiping to answer. The screen filled with the view from a hotel balcony. In the distance, an amusement park glittered with colored lights, the Ferris wheel a vibrant beacon in the night sky. Ryan appeared, wearing a bathrobe, his hair still wet. He leaned into the camera, a smug, triumphant smile on his face. "Hey, Marcus. Sorry you couldn't join us tonight." He panned the camera around, giving me a clear view of the large bed behind him. He grinned. "Sophie's just taking a shower. She's agreed to be my special 'New Year's gift.' It's going to be an unforgettable night. I'll spare you the live feed of what happens next, wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea, you know?" Just then, Sophie's voice called out from the bathroom. "Ryan, sweetie, can you bring me a towel?" Ryan’s smirk widened. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sophie's calling me. Gotta go, buddy." The screen shook as he moved. I heard his gleeful laugh. "Coming, angel!" The call ended. At that moment, the director informed me that everything was ready. I stood up, walked over to the cryogenic pod, and activated the live-stream function on the recorder I’d planted in Sophie’s bag. It had a low-power mode that could supposedly last for a month. A full year would have been better. That would have been quite a show. I lay down inside the chamber and gave the doctor a thumbs-up. He nodded and pressed the activation button. A frigid mist began to fill the pod. I closed my eyes, ready for my consciousness to be suspended in ice, with only one thought echoing in my mind: Get ready for 2026, Sophie. Ryan. I hope you enjoy every single second of it.
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