1 Bradley’s slap tore open my gunshot wound, sending me back into surgery. When I woke, my family stood outside my room, whispering. Clara’s swollen belly stretched her dress—seven, maybe eight months along. No wonder they’d sounded tense when the consulate called about my injury. They probably wished I’d died overseas. Mom finally entered, avoiding my gaze. “Evie… it’s been about six months…” I laughed bitterly. “Twelve months in a year, and she’s nearly due. Six months?” She burst into tears. “Let her have Bradley! She’s depressed, not as strong as you!” My blood ran cold. “Mom, you swore he was just after our money—that you’d never let him near us.” 2 My parents had adopted Clara, a fact Bradley learned the very first time he came to our house. Mom, right in front of the whole family, had thrown every single gift he’d brought out the door, declaring that she’d never, ever agree to us being together. That was the first time I ever saw Bradley cry. He sat in his twenty-thousand-dollar beat-up used car, the trunk overflowing with gifts, clutching the steering wheel and sobbing. We never broke up, though. Bradley was highly capable at work, had no bad habits, and was incredibly ambitious. His only flaw was his humble background, but I didn't see that as an insurmountable obstacle. Mom would poke my head, scolding me for being foolishly devoted. “He’s got the look of an inheritance hunter, that pauper from out of state, barely making enough to cover rent after paying for food. His entire lineage couldn’t scrape together a down payment for a house. What do you even see in him?” “I’m telling you, men like him just want to marry an only child from the big city to change their fate. Just you wait, once he’s got you wrapped around his finger, he’ll drag all his distant relatives over, and you’ll be in for it!” Her words were always harsh, something I’d grown used to. But this time, I defended Bradley, albeit a little helplessly. “He doesn’t mean that, and I’m not an only child. There’s Clara, isn’t there? You’re really overthinking this.” Mom rolled her eyes, then craned her neck to peek at Clara, who was watching TV in the living room. She whispered urgently, “No matter how close, she’s still adopted. When we get old, most of what we own will still be yours. Get that straight!” At the time, I thought her words were a bit much, but a faint warmth still bloomed in my chest. I’d always been touched by how my parents never let Clara’s presence diminish their love for me, which in turn made me dote on Clara even more. I just never imagined that a year after becoming a war correspondent, everything would shatter. 3 Mom had no answer for my questions, only sitting there and weeping. But I felt no sympathy. In my year in the war zone, I’d seen too many displaced refugees. Some had lost their entire families, their only possessions bags of ashes. Others were toddlers, barely three or four, who would go to the cemetery alone every night, sleeping at their mothers’ graves because their longing far outweighed their fear. So Clara’s “pity” held no sway over me. I only wanted to know the reason for the betrayal. “Mom, go get Bradley. I need to talk to him.” “Evie!” Mom looked desperate, trying to dissuade me, but I couldn't keep my temper in check. “He’s a grown man, he pulled such a shameless stunt, and he doesn’t even have the courage to explain it to his ex-fiancée face-to-face?” I’d already categorized myself as his ex. When Bradley entered, his face was a mask of guilt. “Evie, I’m so sorry. I messed up. Clara’s far along, and she hasn’t been well lately, always throwing up. I know your temper, and I misunderstood… I thought you… That’s why I acted so impulsively and laid hands on you.” I hadn’t even had a chance to say a single word. “Bradley, is that all you have to tell me?” No explanation for betraying me, for getting my own sister pregnant, just an entire conversation framed around protecting Clara, dumping all the blame squarely on my head. It took me a long time to find my voice again, my throat raw. “Do you remember why I became a war correspondent?” Bradley’s face stiffened. 4 Bradley and I were classmates in journalism school, and after earning our master’s degrees, we were lucky enough to join the same network. After a year of working, he spent all his savings on a used car and showed up at my door. After being sent away, he persisted, returning several more times until Mom finally declared that he’d only be worthy of discussing marriage when he bought a house. But this was the Capital City. Bradley could sell himself off and still not afford a bathroom here. Buying a house was a pipe dream. It so happened that the war correspondent previously assigned to The Sands had requested to be recalled due to a family emergency. Eager for the higher pay, Bradley applied to replace him. I actually didn't want him to go. That was a place where human lives were cheaper than stray dogs. Bradley had barely any field experience; he’d have no idea what dangers he’d face there. “Evie, don’t worry, it’s only for a year. I’ll protect myself. Wait for me to come back and marry you!” Bradley had spoken with such heartfelt emotion, even giving me his ATM card. Unfortunately, he never made it. He tumbled down the stairs while packing his bags and broke his leg. The overseas assignment was left open, and the entire network was frantic, scrambling to find a replacement, but everyone they asked turned them down. When Mom found out, she sat on the sofa, sneering. “I bet he did it on purpose. To win you over, to make you devoted to him. Applying for a war zone, then at the last minute, too scared to go, so he conveniently broke his leg. Only a fool like you would fall for that!” Of course, I didn't listen. Because this was the second time Bradley had cried. He dumped his savings book and bank cards into my lap, refused to stay in the hospital, cursed himself for being useless, claiming he couldn't give me a good future, and even suggested we break up. I didn't agree. After all, there were no substantive, irreconcilable conflicts between us. The overseas assignment couldn't be left open indefinitely. The leadership, at their wit’s end, finally approached me. I agreed instantly. Bradley went crazy, saying it was too dangerous, that I couldn't go, that I shouldn't be impulsive for his sake. But it wasn't for him. My dream was always to be a frontline journalist. Though The Sands was incredibly dangerous, with lives lost at any moment, I wasn't afraid. I was prepared for the sacrifice. These were things I’d never told him. To the very end, Bradley believed I did it all for him. 5 The hospital room was deathly quiet. Bradley kept his head bowed, his gaze flickering away from mine, before finally muttering, “I’m sorry.” He looked so guilty, so pitiful. Yet, I almost laughed. I had planned to tell him everything when I got back home and was promoted, but now, there was simply no need. Besides, before I left, he’d sworn to the heavens that if anything happened to me, he wouldn’t live either. Bradley, the liar. “Evie, I’m sorry. I was just so lonely, so exhausted. I’m truly sorry.” Enough. I didn't want to hear that phrase again. When I was running through hails of bullets and explosions, when I took enormous risks to film firsthand footage from the conflict zone and send it back home, when I huddled alone behind a sand dune, hungry and cold, gritting my teeth to tend to my wounds—all I thought about was Bradley. That year, his occasional texts and video calls were my only comfort. My entire heart, wasted on a scoundrel! I was fighting tooth and nail overseas for our future, while he was carousing with my sister… “How dare you send me those cloying, sickening messages while you were messing around with Clara?” “I was worried about you!” Bradley seemed to latch onto a convenient excuse. “You were out there alone, in such a dangerous place. What if I’d told you we were breaking up, told you about all this, and you’d lost control and something terrible happened?” “Evie, I was doing this for your own good. Besides, we hadn’t seen each other for a year. You were so busy every day, you barely had time for me. And me? I had to help you look after your parents and this house. Do you know how awful I felt every time your parents would tear into me?” So, it was my fault, after all? I bit down hard, so enraged I felt bile rise in my throat. “This is your idea of ‘looking after’?! Bradley, have you no shame?! You ‘looked after’ her straight into my sister’s bed!” My chest tightened with each breath, a sharp, throbbing pain emanating from my healing wound. In the past, Bradley would have rushed to my side, fussing over me. But now, he simply stood up, his posture stiff, his voice cold. “It’s already happened. Clara and I are truly in love. Love isn’t wrong. Evie, let’s just break up.” 6 Bradley left. Furious, I looked up just as my gaze met Clara's through the window. The moment our eyes connected, she spun around, quickly scurrying away, enveloped by my parents and Bradley. Truly, a guilty conscience written all over them. The hospital room felt hollow. I lay defeated on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face. Five years of a relationship, from school to professional life. At least in love, I had given everything. My phone was still filled with videos and photos of us that my friends had envied. People always talked about "from school days to the altar." Until this very day, I had naively believed that was the story of Bradley and me. After that shouting match, no one from my family showed up for the rest of the day, not even for dinner. My colleague, Chloe, was the one who brought me food. “I heard about what happened,” Chloe said, holding the food bowl. She thought for a long time, then just sighed. She probably hadn’t encountered such a bizarre situation either. My mood was so foul that I took two bites and put down my chopsticks. Chloe tried to cheer me up, recounting a lot of network gossip, but I couldn’t even crack a smile. The room grew quiet again. After a long while, she gently pressed my hand and hesitantly spoke. “Evie, there’s something I don’t know if I should say. I don’t want you to be in the dark, and I worry you might do something impulsive…” “Is it about Bradley?” Chloe nodded, her expression strained. I closed my eyes. “Tell me. I can handle anything now.”
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