After five years of marriage to Julian Vance, his long-dead childhood sweetheart miraculously came back to life. She moved into my home, kissed my husband, and even my child started calling her ‘Mom.’ Julian said she had cancer, that he needed to make amends. He told me to be generous and kind. My son, Liam Vance, said, “You’re just not as gentle or pretty as she is. She doesn’t have any scars.” I chose to grant their wish and faked my own death to escape. Finally, I found the peaceful life I yearned for. A decade and more passed in a blink. Then, Liam Vance enrolled at the very university where I taught. He found me, his eyes red-rimmed, demanding, “If you didn’t want me, why did you give birth to me?” 1 It was during a class break, the ground floor of the academic building bustling with students. Liam Vance ignored the curious glances around us, gripping my sleeve tightly. His burning gaze made me feel as if I were being roasted over an open fire. I lowered my eyelids, forcing myself to appear calm. “Student, you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m unmarried and have no children.” The young man’s voice remained level as he countered, “Are you? The exact same face, the same build, even the same name.” He paused, his grip tightening. “Did I make a mistake, or are you just afraid to admit the truth?” It was truly a twist of fate. After faking my death and fleeing overseas, I encountered the Martin family, a couple who had recently lost their daughter. Seeing a resemblance between me and their deceased child, they asked me to assume her identity. Coincidentally, her name was also Cassidy. Sometimes, you just have to admit that there’s another ‘you’ out there in the world. I took Cassidy Martin’s place, completed my doctorate abroad, and became a university professor. Later, Mr. Martin passed away, and his dying wish was to return to his homeland. So, I brought Mrs. Martin back to the States. Not long ago, Mrs. Martin also passed. In this vast, indifferent world, I was once again alone. As for Liam Vance, the child I had long left behind, I never imagined I would see him again. His sudden appearance caught me completely off guard. I had once imagined what he would look like grown up. But he seemed to resemble neither me nor Julian. I searched my mind, but his childhood appearance was already a blur. When I left the Vance family, I was utterly alone, walking away with resolute finality. All the cherished photographs I possessed had been consumed by fire. My thoughts raced, chaotic. Liam’s grip tightened, as if he feared I would vanish if he loosened his hold even slightly. A familiar colleague passed by on their way to class, pausing to ask about the situation. They stepped in to help. “Young Mr. Vance, you’ve truly made a mistake. People simply resemble each other sometimes. Don’t delay Professor Martin’s class.” Liam’s expression wavered, and his grip slackened. Seizing the chance, I quickly pulled my hand free and ascended the stairs. At the landing, I glanced back at Liam, who looked lost and forlorn. He was as striking as Julian, always effortlessly noticeable in a crowd. He seemed heartbroken. But I felt no pang of sympathy. I merely told myself, Cassidy, you can look back, but never walk back. 2 Teaching always engrossed me, and I quickly pushed the unexpected encounter from my mind. Back in my office, the heating was stifling. I removed my coat but left my scarf on. A new faculty member opposite me kindly pointed it out. “Professor Martin, you forgot to take off your scarf.” I smiled, offering no explanation. Lesson planning, grading papers, lunch, a short nap. Liam’s appearance didn’t seem to affect me. My life continued as it always had. At least, on the surface. I reclined my chair, pulled a thin blanket over me, confirmed my alarm for my nap was set, and closed my eyes. Soon, I was drifting off. But I had clearly underestimated the psychological impact of Liam’s sudden presence. For the first time in years, I dreamt of Julian Vance and Liam. Julian and I had an arranged marriage, a business alliance. My father, in his youth, had been kind to Julian’s father. He hadn't asked for anything in return. But then, my father’s business ran into trouble, forcing him to seek help from the Vance family. Julian’s father agreed to help but proposed a union through marriage. At the time, I had a secret crush on Julian. But I also knew he had a girl he loved, Ashley Hayes. So, I never dared to express my feelings. Yet, in the gilded cage of aristocratic marriage, one’s own desires were often irrelevant. When I learned I was to marry him, I was so overjoyed I couldn’t sleep all night. I believed I could, with time and effort, slowly win his heart. But halfway through the wedding, news broke that the plane Ashley was on had crashed. She had left heartbroken, and that flight had plunged into the deep sea, leaving no trace. Julian calmly let the wedding proceed. But I knew his heart was now fortified by high walls. The eternally youthful Ashley Hayes had truly taken up residence there. So, I suggested Julian and I remain married in name only. But he descended upon me, his eyes dark with fury, devoid of any tenderness. He whispered savagely in my ear, “Does it hurt? Endure it. Ashley died because of the Martin family. This is all your family’s fault.” After that night, the Martin family went bankrupt, completely vanishing from Capital City’s elite circles. My father, in despair, jumped from a building. My mother suffered a mental breakdown and was confined to a sanatorium. I still remember the night my father died. Julian was dead drunk. He stumbled into my bedroom, raging, a wild beast unleashed. “Cassidy Martin, I want you to feel a hundred, a thousand times more pain than I do.” I wanted to die. But Julian saw through me. “If you don’t want your mother to suffer, then you will live. You know I have my ways.” I couldn’t die even if I wanted to, and living brought only torment. 3 My marriage to Julian was suffocating, oppressive. In public, we were the golden couple, the picture of adoration. At banquets, entertaining guests, we were always inseparable. The media frequently captured photos of him buying luxury brands or expensive jewelry for me, calling him a doting husband. But in private, he would unleash his fury on me, cursing me, telling me I was no different from a prostitute. Each time our intimacy ended, he would throw expensive jewelry at my face. “That’s your service fee. Consider it gilded.” I didn’t know when this life would end. I didn't know how much longer I could endure. Thankfully, my mother’s condition improved, and she was discharged. I didn’t want her to worry, so I would praise Julian in front of her, calling him thoughtful and kind, a wonderful man. But no matter how well I pretended, how could a mother not see through it? Leaving a letter expressing her wish for me to find freedom, she followed my father. My spirit completely crumbled. I stopped eating, drinking, crying, or reacting. Before long, I fell into a coma, my vital signs gradually fading. My consciousness was clear. I, like a warped being, yearned for death, for complete liberation. But Julian wouldn’t allow it. Each time I neared death, a pair of hands pulled me back. Julian sobbed, speaking in my ear. His tone was filled with a pleading tenderness I had never heard from him. He said he had lost to me. He had, in fact, fallen in love with me through our daily interactions. How laughable. After being revived and regaining consciousness, the doctor informed me I was pregnant. The flower of pain had borne fruit, and I felt my entire life had been completely bound. I didn’t anticipate this child’s birth. I secretly scheduled an abortion at another hospital. But Julian found me anyway. He held me captive, assigning round-the-clock guards. Until I gave birth to Liam. 4 The dream was long, and I fell back into anguish. Thankfully, my alarm clock dragged me out. After my afternoon classes, I headed to the parking lot to retrieve my car. As I passed the sports field, a basketball flew directly towards me. My mind went blank instantly. I instinctively raised my hand to block it. The anticipated pain never came. I opened my eyes and saw Liam, struck and injured, before me. A mix of emotions churned within me. Despite my desire to avoid any further entanglement with him, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon a student who had just shielded me, especially under the watchful eyes of so many. After taking him to the campus infirmary for bandages, I prepared to leave. Liam called out to me, “Professor Martin, I helped you. Shouldn’t you thank me?” I stopped, turning back. “Didn’t I already say thank you?” “Verbal thanks are so boring. How about something more practical?” He slowly strolled over to me. “Today’s my birthday. Could you… have dinner with me?” Those sealed memories, with the trailing end of that sentence, flooded back. Though I hadn’t anticipated Liam’s birth, perhaps it was the immense suffering of his difficult, prolonged delivery, or perhaps it was simply maternal instinct, but I cherished him deeply. Once, he was nearly scalded by boiling water. I, without a second thought, instinctively lunged and hugged him, shielding him. The entire pot of scalding water poured over my neck. Afterward, to soothe a terrified Liam, I comforted him for four hours straight. Consequently, I missed the optimal time for treatment, leaving a permanent scar. I didn’t mind the scar, as long as my child was safe and healthy. To give him a joyful and happy family environment, I cooperated with Julian, playing the part of a loving couple. Until he turned four. That façade of happiness was ripped away. After Liam was born, Julian grew very fond of family life. He repeatedly expressed a desire for another child, but I always refused. As a result, he doted intensely on his only son. Liam’s birthday parties grew grander each year. For his fourth birthday, Liam, now in preschool, Julian invited all his classmates to play at the amusement park and ski resort he had built specially for the occasion. Halfway through the party, an unexpected guest arrived. It was Ashley Hayes. I had seen her photos on Julian’s phone. Beautiful, elegant, and now with an added touch of mature charm. Perhaps the shock of her return from the dead was too overwhelming, for Julian looked bewildered, unable to believe his eyes. But when Ashley spoke his name, he instinctively let go of my hand. It turned out Ashley had missed her original flight and rebooked for the next one, narrowly escaping the crash. She hadn’t wanted to disturb Julian’s life, so she had never reappeared. It was only when her job recently transferred her back to the country that she thought to come and visit. Old friends reunited, small talk was inevitable. Julian arranged for Ashley to stay at an apartment he owned and didn’t return home that night. I knew very well that my life was about to be turned upside down again. But I never expected even my sole solace to be snatched away. 5 A bewildered Liam had once asked me who Ashley Hayes was. I didn’t know how to answer. So I said, “Let Daddy tell you, okay?” The next morning, Julian returned home, his steps weary and unsteady. Liam, licking milk from the corner of his mouth, repeated the question. Julian suddenly lost his temper. “Cassidy Martin, you’re disgusting! You’re using the child!” He gestured towards Ashley. “She has cancer. What’s wrong with me taking care of her a little more?” He fixed his gaze on me. “You’ve already gotten so much. Why can’t you be generous and kind?!” I glanced at the faint, tell-tale red marks on his collar, understanding silently. Liam, startled by his father’s outburst, burst into tears. Julian, his reason returning, apologized to me, but I said nothing. Ashley’s company had business dealings with Julian’s, leading to increased interactions between them. Unbeknownst to me, Liam also grew increasingly dependent on her. I noticed the change one evening. I was, as usual, telling him a bedtime story. After only two sentences, Liam started to fuss, demanding Ashley tell him a story instead. I had no choice but to let him. It was only afterward that I realized the three of them had been doing many things behind my back. Later, Ashley invited us to dinner for her birthday. Perhaps fueled by alcohol, she tearfully recounted her experiences over the past few years. Liam’s face was filled with sympathy. He walked over, grasped her little finger, and kissed her cheek. “Pretty Auntie, don’t cry. Mom stole Daddy, so Liam will make it up to you.” A vague premonition settled in my heart that Liam and I might grow distant. Yet, a sliver of hope lingered. He was my child, after all; this blood connection couldn’t be severed. But that sliver of hope shattered the moment I heard Liam call her ‘Mom.’
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