I was the princess of Manhattan's elite. Less than a year after marrying the city's brilliant up-and-comer, his empire crumbled. After the divorce, I saw the ending to my story—and went running back to him, begging to remarry. He just frowned, his lips a thin, cold line. "I'm sorry, Ms. Sterling." "The Penn name is in the gutter. We're not fit for a Sterling anymore." Standing beside him was his childhood friend, her smile a blinding glare. I cradled my stomach and forced a weak smile. "Fine. Then I guess I'll just find a new dad for the baby?" His eyes widened, a storm crashing through their depths. "What. Did. You. Say?" 1. They had me on the operating table. The icy chill of the steel seeped through the thin gown, electrifying every nerve. Suddenly— Flashes of a life I’d never lived seared through my mind. In those visions, I followed my parents' plan and remarried, taking a husband they’d hand-picked. Less than six months later, my parents died in a freak car accident, and my new husband shipped me off to a foreign country and left me there. Penniless and alone, I wandered the streets, so hungry I was forced to scavenge through trash cans for scraps. The stench of rot and sour decay, the slimy, grimy feel of filth—it was a world of suffocation and absolute despair. In the end, a homeless man snatched the spoiled food from my hands and shoved me to the ground. Snow fell from a grey sky, blanketing my gaunt, motionless body until I was completely buried. The image froze, burned into my memory. Just then, the surgical light above me flared to life. "Hello there. Just relax your legs for me," a nurse’s voice said, sounding distant and warped. I shot upright with a gasp, a sob caught in my throat. "Wait—I'm sorry, I can't do this." When I stumbled out of the room, my mother rushed to my side. "Aurora? Is it over already?" "No…" I shook my head, my body still trembling from the vision. Tears streamed down my face. "Mom, I can't go through with this." If I lost this baby, I would die a horrible death. I had to find Jason Penn. I had to get him back. 2. I raced to the rundown walk-up he had moved into. The rust-eaten door of the building reflected my frantic, pale face. For a terrifying moment, it morphed into the same face from my vision—shriveled and purple from the cold. I shuddered, a wave of pure dread washing over me. Just then, I heard the sound of laughter from down the street. I quickly ducked into the shadows beneath the stairwell, peering out just in time to see Jason walking up with another woman. He was carrying a bag of groceries, his attention fixed on her as she spoke. "I'll keep an eye on the project for you. Don't think you're getting away with just buying me dinner." "How are your parents adjusting to the new place?" "If you need anything, I can always come over. I picked up some serious cooking skills abroad these last few years. You’ll have to let me show them off." … The woman's voice was bright and cheerful, her words easy and confident. And Jason—the same Jason who was always so cool and distant—was actually responding to her. I bit my lip, a hot knot of anger tightening in my chest. The ink on our divorce papers was barely dry, and he’d already moved on. But if I didn't remarry him… I would lose everything. I would die on the streets. The horrific images flashed again, like pop-up ads from hell. A line of rainbow text wiggled across my vision like a caterpillar: ~Ooooh, this is what happens when you get divorced~ My whole body trembled. Fear was a giant black shroud, smothering me, stealing the air from my lungs. Oh God, this is terrifying! The instinct for survival overrode everything else. Gritting my teeth, I lunged out from my hiding place, about to call his name. "Jul—" Click. The door slammed shut. I stared at it, deflated. Then, suddenly, it opened again. A pair of long, powerful legs stepped out. I froze, stunned. 3. Jason stood in the dim hallway, his cool gaze landing on me, tinged with the annoyance of being interrupted. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice ice. He’d always been reserved, keeping a certain distance from the world. But in the year we were married, whenever we were alone, he had been gentle with me. This cutting, cold tone was a first. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. "I… I came to see you," I stammered. "I want… to get… back…" "What? I can't hear you." "I said I want to remarry you! I want us to get back together!" I squeezed my eyes shut and yelled, the words tumbling out in a single, desperate rush. In the faint light of the hallway, a flicker of shock crossed his face, so fast I might have imagined it. He didn't speak. The air grew thick and heavy, the only sounds the stifling silence of the stairwell and the frantic drumming of my own heart. He glanced at the apartment door, which was still slightly ajar, and reached back to pull it fully closed. Then he started down the stairs, one step at a time. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, yet they carried a crushing weight, like the low pressure before a violent storm. I held my breath, my nails digging into my palms. The horrifying visions of my death still pulsed at the edge of my mind. He stopped an arm's length away from me. His eyes locked onto mine, their depths as cold and dark as a frozen lake. "I'm sorry, Ms. Sterling," he said, his tone flat, each word precise. He paused, his voice devoid of all emotion, a simple, brutal statement of fact. "The Penn name is in the gutter. We're not fit for a Sterling anymore." 4. Not fit… Those words were like shards of ice, piercing straight through my heart. A wave of shame washed over me, and my face burned with heat. After his company had filed for bankruptcy, right when he needed me the most, I had listened to my parents and asked for a divorce. And now, not even a week after it was finalized, here I was, shamelessly begging him to take me back. It was absurd. It was offensive. It probably looked like I was toying with him. But… "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. I'm here because…" I tried to explain, my thoughts a jumbled mess. The words died on my lips. What could I possibly say? That I’d seen the future? That if I left him, I would die a miserable death? If he didn't already think I was playing games with him, he'd surely think I was insane. Tears welled in my eyes, and with a single blink, they spilled over, tracking hot paths down my cheeks. "Why are you crying?" He frowned, a flicker of impatience in his voice. "Isn't a divorce exactly what you wanted?" His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to say more, but he just pressed his lips into a tight line. "We're over, Aurora." "Go home. The great princess of Manhattan doesn't belong in a place like this." He gave a slight, dismissive nod, a clear gesture of farewell. The moment he turned to leave, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Don't go!" I cried, my voice trembling. "I—I really need you!" "Ever since we signed the papers, I haven't stopped thinking about you, about us. I… I realized I can't live without you. Can we please get back together? I can't do this without you!" Through the thin fabric of his shirt, I felt his muscles tense, coiled with a powerful, restrained energy. He looked down, his gaze falling on my hands clasped around him. His eyes were searching, probing, a dangerous current swirling beneath the icy surface. After a moment, he raised his hands and slowly, deliberately, began to pry my fingers away. My heart leaped into my throat. He turned his head, his dark eyes bottomless. "And why should I?" he asked, his lips barely moving. His voice was like a blade forged in ice, striking the deepest part of my soul. He paused, each word a clear, cold-blooded question. "What is marriage to you, Aurora?" "A tool you can pick up and discard whenever you please?" His words were slow, sharp as daggers. "Or do you think that just because Jason Penn has lost everything, he's now a pawn for the great Aurora Sterling to play with as she sees fit?" "..." The world went silent. I opened my mouth several times, but no sound came out. He was right… Why should he? Jason watched my speechless form, and the last flicker of emotion in his eyes died out, replaced by a deep, hollow stillness and… weariness. "Can't answer that?" A mocking smile touched his lips. "In that case, getting back together—" "Is. Not. Happening." The three words were an execution, leaving no room for appeal. 5. The air was frozen solid. The weariness in his eyes had shattered any words I might have had. Just then, a faint noise came from upstairs. The closed apartment door creaked open a few inches. The voices from inside were muffled by the distance, but they still carried clearly to my ears. "...You're cooking tonight. What on earth is that boy doing out in the hallway? I'll go get him." "It's okay, Mrs. Penn. I'll go." A woman's clear, warm voice drew nearer. I stiffened. The blood seemed to drain from my body, leaving my fingertips icy cold. For some reason, my heart began to ache with a sharp, insistent rhythm. My eyes were glued to the sliver of light spilling from the doorway. In my peripheral vision, Jason hadn't moved. He was still turned slightly towards me, his gaze cold and probing, pinning me in place. It felt like he was trying to see through me, to uncover some hidden truth. But what was he looking for? To see how pathetic I was after being rejected? Or… something else? I nervously wet my dry lips, my gaze drifting uncontrollably back to the door upstairs. It opened a little wider. A slender, pale hand rested on the frame. The woman's voice came again, laced with a familiar intimacy. "Jason? Are you out there?" Jason finally broke his stare. He turned to face the stairs, his jaw tight, his tone final. "Go home, Aurora. And don't come back." Without another word, he started up the stairs. He’d just reached the first step when I couldn't stop a small, pathetic sniffle from escaping. His stride faltered. His tall frame went rigid for a second before he turned back, his expression a mixture of resignation and annoyance. I looked up at him, my eyes wide and pleading. "I… I don't know how to get home," I whispered. His brow furrowed. "Where's your driver?" I shook my head, my voice shrinking. "I took the bus…" Jason turned completely around. He stared at me, his Adam's apple moving slightly. "...Why?" he asked. His voice was raw, still holding its usual chill, but there seemed to be something else layered beneath it. I looked down, wringing my hands, feeling a strange pang of guilt, as if I'd been caught doing something wrong. "I wanted to try," I answered meekly. "Try what?" "To see… if I could handle it. A life without drivers and town cars, just buses and subways. After we… get back together." I confessed, glancing up at him shyly. "You know… to practice!" The air was still for a moment. Jason just stared at me, his eyes as deep and unreadable as a well. Something flickered across their surface, like a stone dropped into dark water, sending out the faintest of ripples before the ice closed over it again. I couldn't decipher his expression. I only knew that his jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like a drawn bowstring. Tight, but still so handsome. The thought surprised even me. Upstairs, the light from the doorway shifted. The woman's voice called out again, a note of confusion in it. "Jason? Is everything okay?" Her voice was like a switch. The unreadable emotion in Jason's eyes froze over, leaving only a chilling coldness. He pulled his lips into a smirk, the curve laced with an indescribable mockery. "You probably can't even read a bus map, Aurora. What are you talking about, 'practicing'?" "Stop being naive. You and I don't walk the same path anymore." "Go home. Live the life you're supposed to live." With that, he refused to look at me again. He turned and strode up the stairs, his back rigid and resolute, never once looking back. 6. I stood frozen in place. The door upstairs was now closed. The walls of the old walk-up were thin. I could faintly hear the murmur of conversation from inside. It was July. The air should have been hot and heavy. So why did I feel so cold? My chest felt tight, my nose stung. He seemed… angrier than before. But I was just telling the truth… As the suffocating feeling closed in, the pop-up visions flashed through my mind again. But this time, things were different. I hadn't remarried. Instead, I was heavily pregnant, and the man who was supposed to be my second husband shoved me down a flight of stairs. A pool of crimson spread beneath me as my eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. I saw my parents running towards me, their faces contorted in horror… That vision was even more terrifying than freezing to death on the street. I instinctively clutched my stomach. Go back to the life I'm supposed to live? No, no, no! What life was that? Without Jason, there was no life for me, just a variety of gruesome deaths. He wouldn't remarry me because he didn't think I was sincere. I had to prove it to him. If he rejected me once, I'd come back twice. If he rejected me twice, I'd come back four times! I would wear him down. 7. And so, I went back. Again and again. Soon, everyone—upstairs, downstairs, and half the neighborhood—knew that Jason Penn's ex-wife was begging him to take her back. But every time Jason saw me, his face was a cold mask of rejection. Only occasionally, when I was clumsily trying to help, his gaze would linger on me for a moment, his brow deeply furrowed. He looked at me with a complex, searching expression, as if I were the one who had ruined his family, not the business partner who was now on the run. His parents were as kind as ever, but even they tried to dissuade me. "Aurora, you've lived in luxury your whole life. Your parents couldn't bear to see you suffer, and neither can we." "Look at your hands. Just from peeling garlic, you've broken a nail." "Please, listen to us. Don't come back tomorrow." I just smiled, shaking my head. "But I don't feel like I'm suffering at all! Everyone has to have a first time for things, right?" "I'll get better, I promise!" I said that, but the truth was, the person who was actually a natural in the kitchen was Molly. All I could do was stand outside and watch. I couldn't help it; lately, the slightest smell made my stomach churn. Watching Mrs. Penn and Molly interact like mother and daughter filled me with a thick, nameless envy and a sour ache in my heart. When no one was looking, I slipped out of the apartment. As I closed the door behind me, I looked up and saw Jason coming home. His eyes were cold, and his voice was even colder. "What's wrong?" I shook my head, feeling utterly defeated. I couldn't possibly tell him I felt like a complete failure, could I? He took the last two steps, stopping just inches from me. "If you can't handle it, just go home," he said, his deep voice tinged with what sounded like a sigh. I stared at him, stunned. I lifted my chin, defiant. "I can handle it! This isn't suffering! I just…" "I just feel… useless. Like I can't help with anything…" My voice trailed off, laced with a frustration I couldn't hide. I hated that, compared to Molly, I was so completely incompetent. Molly's family and the Penns used to be neighbors. She and Jason had known each other since they were kids. Her family moved overseas after high school, so she must have come back as soon as she heard about his company failing. That kind of loyalty, showing up when things were at their worst, made me—the ex-wife who filed for divorce the second he went bankrupt—look so much worse. "Anyway!" I paused, my voice firm. "I'm not leaving! Not until you agree to remarry me!" I quickly turned my head away. Tears pricked my eyes, but I bit my lip, refusing to let them fall. His gaze swept over my face, and he remained silent. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "I know." Know? What did he know? The reason I couldn't go into the kitchen had nothing to do with my abilities. It was because I was carrying a tiny life inside me! He didn't know anything at all! 8. My morning sickness was getting worse. My mother couldn't stand to watch it anymore and suggested I just use the pregnancy to force Jason into remarrying me. I refused. What if he was cruel enough to reject the baby too? I couldn't risk it.
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