The day I personally caught Tristan cheating in bed, Harbor City was hit by heavy rain. Nora was sitting on his lap, and he had his arms around her waist, smiling exactly the way he did when he was pursuing me all those years ago. After that, everyone said I'd lost my mind. I hired people to monitor him. If he came home five minutes late, I'd call the police. If he replied to work messages in the middle of the night, I'd grab scissors and threaten to castrate him. At first, Tristan would try to placate me. He knelt before me saying he was sorry, that it was a moment of weakness, that I was the only one he'd ever love in this lifetime. Until Nora fell down the stairs, her dress covered in blood. He signed that disciplinary agreement, his eyes cold and venomous. "Susie, you're being very naughty. Nora is researching behavioral correction programs. Since you enjoy tormenting people so much, go there and learn to control that temper of yours." "Learn how to be a proper, sensible Mrs. Kingsley." Five years passed in the blink of an eye. The day Tristan came to the academy to pick me up, Harbor City was hit by another rainstorm. We hadn't seen each other in years. When he looked at me, his eyes held scrutiny and a subtle satisfaction. The instructor beside me smiled and said, "Mr. Kingsley, you can rest assured. Miss Reed has learned how to be the most exemplary wife of an elite family." I kept my eyes lowered, knees slightly bent. This was the standard posture the academy taught—never looking people in the eye, never standing with a straight back, always ready to assume a submissive stance. Tristan scoffed. "She's certainly learned to put on a good show." He wasn't wrong. I really had learned well.
During the first month after being locked up, I hadn't learned yet. Back then, I would cry, curse, bang my head against the wall, and scream Tristan's name in the isolation room until my throat bled. Later, I stopped screaming. Not because I'd come to terms with it, but because electrical currents passed through my temples and I forgot why I was screaming in the first place. The instructor called it "behavioral cognitive correction." It took me a long time to understand what that meant— It meant turning someone who could cry, make a fuss, and love into someone who couldn't cry, couldn't make a fuss, and couldn't love. Actually, it wasn't that difficult. After enough pain, you learn everything. In the car on the way back, Nora sat on Tristan's lap. She looked at me, her eyes carrying that familiar concern—light and airy, like a cat appraising a mouse with its claws pulled out. "Susie, how were these past five years for you inside?" I stared straight ahead, hands resting flat on my knees. When I didn't answer, Nora waited a moment, then her voice became even softer. "If you hadn't hurt me back then, Tristan wouldn't have gotten angry and sent you there. Don't blame him." Five years ago, I would have lunged at her and torn that mouth apart. But now I just sat there. Tristan glanced at me sideways, his tone turning cold. "Nora is talking to you. Did all that etiquette training go straight down the drain?" I still didn't speak. Suddenly my chin was gripped, the force making my bones ache. Tristan forced me to look at him, familiar irritation in his eyes. "I told you to speak." It hurt, but compared to having my mouth sewn shut at the academy, it was nothing. My mouth had been sewn shut three times. The first time was for talking back to an instructor. The second time was for crying out loud. The third time was for calling Tristan's name in the isolation room. When the needle pierced through my lips, I trembled all over from the pain, but couldn't make a sound. After they removed the stitches, I learned not to open my mouth carelessly. "Mr. Kingsley, you haven't given me permission to speak." I looked into his eyes, my voice soft. But Tristan froze. He stared at me for a long time, so long that even Nora's smile grew stiff. Then he released his grip and laughed coldly. "Fine. Now you can answer Nora." I turned my head and smiled at Nora—a standard smile, showing exactly eight teeth. "Miss Parker, I won't be angry. You're the only person Mr. Kingsley truly cares about." I meant every word of that statement. At the academy, the instructors showed me photos of Tristan and Nora together every single day. In the photos they looked so happy, like a perfect couple. At first, when I saw them, I would feel heartbroken, tremble, want to tear the photos to shreds. Then electrical currents would pass through my temples, and I'd briefly lose all emotion. Over time, I stopped crying. The instructor called it "desensitization therapy." I thought she was right. After seeing something enough times, it stops hurting. But for some reason, his expression grew even darker. He furrowed his brow, speaking through gritted teeth. "Susie, is this passive-aggressive tone your way of resisting?" "I'm not." I lowered my head further. "I only learned... how to be a proper Mrs. Kingsley." Tristan froze for a moment. Nora watched this scene from the side, her voice gentle. "Tristan, as long as Susie knows she was wrong, don't be so harsh with her." He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly laughed coldly. "Fine. I'd like to see just how long you can keep up this act!"
When we arrived at the Kingsley residence, a four or five-year-old child ran over. He hugged Tristan's leg and looked at me with his head tilted. "Daddy, who's this lady?" Tristan's body stiffened. His Adam's apple bobbed, his tone carrying a hint of nervousness. "Susie, this is the child you pushed back then. His name is Andy. He's four years old now. Don't be angry." He was waiting for my reaction. Five years ago, I would have been angry. Nora had stood at the top of the stairs with her pregnant belly, smiling as she told me, "Susie, the one who isn't loved is the real mistress." I pushed her. Later, Tristan said I'd gone crazy and sent me to the academy. At the academy, the walls of the isolation room were covered with photos of Nora and that child. The instructor said those were the people I'd harmed, and I had to look at them every day until I learned to repent. I looked at photos of that child for five years. Now he was right in front of me, alive and real, able to run and jump, calling Tristan "Daddy." I crouched down and touched his head. Hatred was too much of a luxury. It required too much energy, and I didn't have that kind of energy anymore. "I'm not angry." I looked up at Tristan, my voice calm. Tristan stared at me, his brow furrowing. He suddenly pulled Andy away, his tone stiff. "Since you're not angry, let's go inside for dinner!" I didn't know what he was unhappy about. This was exactly what he'd wanted me to learn. During dinner, Nora placed a piece of fish on my plate. "Susie, the kitchen specially made this steamed fish. Eat more to nourish your body." I looked at the snow-white piece of fish in my bowl. I was allergic to fish. When Tristan and I had just gotten married, I accidentally ate some fish sauce and had an immediate breathing difficulty. They had to resuscitate me for a full day and night. After that, fish never appeared on the Kingsley family's dinner table again. Nora blinked. "Oh my, did I remember wrong? I thought Tristan said Susie loved eating this." Tristan didn't look up, busy peeling shrimp for Andy. "Just eat what she gives you." I picked up my chopsticks. At the academy, I'd also resisted eating due to allergies. Until the instructor mixed various types of fish together into a paste and force-fed it into my mouth. I'd vomit and eat again, eat and vomit again, until I had a high fever and convulsions before they stopped. They said they were helping me desensitize. "Miss Reed, a perfect wife can't make her husband accommodate her allergies." I picked up the fish and put it in my mouth, chewing slowly. Physiological nausea surged up, but I suppressed it. One piece, two pieces. By the time Tristan noticed something was wrong, I'd already eaten more than half. He snatched away my chopsticks, his voice rising. "What are you doing? Susie, have you forgotten you're allergic to fish?" I looked up. Red welts had already appeared on my face, and my breathing was becoming labored. "Are you insane?" He was both anxious and angry, speaking without thinking. "Even if you want to frame Nora, you don't have to make it this obvious!" I looked at Tristan's furious eyes, somewhat bewildered. "I wasn't trying to frame her. I just thought... doing this would make you happy." Tristan froze. His expression looked as if someone had slapped him hard across the face. On the way to the hospital, my consciousness was fuzzy. I vaguely felt myself being held tightly. That person's heartbeat was racing, his voice trembling slightly. I remembered the first time I had an allergic reaction and needed resuscitation—Tristan had held me like this too. His eyes had been red then, and he'd said, "You scared me to death, you know that?" Back then, I believed him. I believed he truly loved me. Later, when I was kneeling at the academy, convulsing from electric shocks, I would occasionally remember that red-eyed Tristan. But after thinking about it for a while, I'd stop. Because the electrical currents would still pass through my body. The pain was still pain.
Half asleep and half awake, I heard Tristan confirming the emergency treatment plan with the doctor. I also heard him make a phone call to the academy. With obvious anxiety, he demanded, "Why has she become like this? What exactly did you do to her?" The voice on the other end was polite yet cautious. "Mr. Kingsley, this is normal. All of Mrs. Kingsley's current behaviors might be an act. After all, just last month, she was still saying she wanted to kill Miss Parker..." I heard Tristan's breathing hitch. I felt wronged. If this was all an act, then I'd be quite the impressive actress. The next evening, I was out of danger and Tristan took me back home. Due to the allergies and long-term malnutrition, I'd become extremely thin. The red welts on my neck still hadn't faded. I must have looked quite pathetic. I'd just entered the living room when Andy ran over. He stared at the wounds on my neck, extending his chubby little hand to point at them. "Lady, does it hurt?" I looked at his innocent eyes and shook my head. "It doesn't hurt." At the academy, I'd had injuries a hundred times more painful, and I still had to smile and say they didn't hurt. Andy took the opportunity to burrow into my arms, his warm little face pressed against my ear. "I know who you are." His voice was so soft that only I could hear it. "After you came back, Mommy became very unhappy. Last night she even cried while holding me." "You're like those evil mistresses in TV shows, trying to steal Daddy from my mommy. Why don't you just die?" "If you died, Daddy would belong only to Mommy." I froze, feeling something like a tiny needle prick my heart. Not sharp, but lingering. Before I could react, Andy suddenly hugged my waist tightly and threw his body backward. We tumbled down the stairs together. In that moment of weightlessness, I instinctively held him in my arms, using my body as his cushion. When my body hit the floor, I felt like every bone in my body had shattered. "Susie, what are you doing!" An angry shout came from upstairs. It was Tristan. He rushed downstairs, pushed aside my injured body, and carefully picked up Andy from the floor. Andy burst into tears, trembling as he burrowed into Tristan's arms. "Daddy, that lady pushed me! She said she hates me and Mommy!" Tristan's movements stopped. He slowly turned to look at me, his eyes filled with the familiar disappointment and disgust. I tried to stand up using the floor for support, my back drenched in cold sweat from the pain. "I didn't..." "Shut up!" He stood up, looking down at me. "Andy is only four years old. Would he lie?" "I thought you'd reformed over these years. Turns out it was all an act. Do you want to go back to the academy again?" I froze, my body trembling uncontrollably. Those mocking voices, the pain of being stripped naked and made to crawl like a dog—it all seemed to resurface. "No, don't send me back." I immediately dropped to my knees, pressing my head deep against the floor, begging him. "Don't send me back there. It was my fault. I pushed him. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." If he said it was my fault, then it was. Five years had been enough to teach me how to apologize. As long as I admitted my mistakes, the punishment would always be lighter. Tristan remained silent for a long time—so long I thought I'd be dragged back and locked in that windowless isolation room again. Finally, he only said, "Lock her in the basement. Let her reflect properly. For the next three days, no one is allowed to let her out!"
I was shoved into the basement. The room was pitch black. I sat against the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around my legs. At first, I was actually relieved by this punishment. I even leaned against the wall and dozed off for a while. Until, half asleep and half awake, it seemed like countless hands were reaching out through the darkness. They pulled at my clothes, pinched my chin, laughing as they said: "She's so pale. Such delicate skin. How could Mr. Kingsley bear to send her to a place like this?" "What's she shouting? For her husband to come save her? What a pipe dream." The man's breathing was heavy as he leaned close to my ear, laughing. "Face reality. Your husband sent you here to teach you obedience. Don't you think he knows what you're going through here? He just doesn't care at all!" I buried my face in my knees. That wasn't true. Tristan did care. He just... he just wanted me to become better. But had I become better? No. Andy said I was a bad woman, that I wanted to steal his daddy from his mommy. I hadn't won the favor of my husband's child. I hadn't become a proper, sensible Mrs. Kingsley. I immediately knelt up, positioning my knees shoulder-width apart, assuming the repentance posture from the academy. Then I raised my right hand and slapped myself across the face. Hard. Once, then again, slapping until my mouth bled, my cheek swelled, and my palm went numb. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I didn't protect the child properly." "I upset Andy. I shouldn't have put my husband in a difficult position." For three days, whenever I woke up, I'd kneel and slap myself. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, dripping onto my knees. It was warm. When the basement door finally opened, I instinctively straightened my kneeling posture and lowered my eyes. Tristan saw the blood covering my face, his pupils contracting sharply. He stepped forward. "You..." Before he could finish, a servant carrying a basin of hot oil hurried past. She slipped, and that bucket of scalding oil poured straight toward Nora. Without time to think, I threw myself over Nora almost desperately, shielding her tightly beneath me. The hot oil splashed all over me. It hurt terribly. But I couldn't care about the pain. I anxiously searched for Tristan's eyes, hoping to see satisfaction in them. But there was none. He looked at me, his whole body trembling, his eyes reddening. I lowered my eyes in disappointment. Hadn't I done well enough? But I didn't have time to think anymore, didn't have time to apologize to him and Nora. I passed out. Before losing consciousness, the last thing I heard was Tristan calling my name with a trembling voice. "Susie, Susie..." When I woke up again, Tristan was asleep leaning against the hospital chair, his brow furrowed, still holding my hand. His features were rarely this gentle—just like when he was pursuing me all those years ago. I was eighteen that year, still frying rice at the night market. To pursue me, he came every day to help me pack up. The day we got together, there was a drizzling rain. When we pushed the cart to the alley entrance, the rain intensified. We hid under the eaves, shoulders touching. "Susie." He suddenly called my name, his eyes shining. "Will you be my girlfriend?" I was stunned. "Have you eaten so much fried rice you've gone stupid?" He laughed, his eyes crinkling, then lowered his head and kissed me. The sound of the rain was loud, his lips were soft, and he kissed me until I forgot to breathe. The smell of cooking oil mixed with rain-soaked earth became the entire fragrance of my eighteenth summer. Later, to marry me, his father punished him by making him kneel in the ancestral hall and take a beating. His back was lashed until the skin split open. I went to see him. He was lying on the bed, his shirt stuck to his wounds. When it was pulled off, it brought blood with it. I cried until I couldn't breathe. He comforted me instead. "Don't cry. It doesn't hurt." "You're lying." "It really doesn't hurt." He gripped my hand, his fingers burning hot—he had a fever. "My father asked if I'd change my mind. I said no. He asked if I loved you. I said yes." He looked at me, his eyes red. "Susie, you're the only person I've ever loved in this lifetime." I believed him. Back then, I really believed him. The curtains were blown by the wind. I moved my fingers, wanting to close the window. As soon as I moved, he woke up. He looked at me, opened his mouth as if to say something, but finally only said, "Let's go home." Go home. Was the Kingsley residence home? I didn't know. But I nodded and said, "Okay." Perhaps as a reward for saving Nora, Tristan treated me much better over the next few days. He had Nora thank me. When she stood before me and bowed, the smile on her face was stiff. I was flustered and quickly told her there was no need to thank me. Tristan watched all of this from the side, his brow relaxing somewhat. That night, he opened my bedroom door.
When the kiss fell, I accepted it docilely throughout, without dodging. He looked at my face, pale from pain, and laughed softly. "Looks like the academy really did tame that temper of yours. In the past, if I'd hurt you like this, you would have jumped up and kicked me." He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his voice soft. "After all these years, you've finally learned to behave." "Susie, as long as you stay obedient like this, the position of Mrs. Kingsley will always be yours." "Later on, I'll have Andy registered under your name. The three of us will be a proper family. Sounds good, right?" I looked at the ceiling. "Okay." Whatever he said was fine. When the knocking sounded at the door, Tristan's movements stopped. Andy stood in the doorway holding his pillow, crying hysterically. "Daddy, Andy had a nightmare. I want Daddy to sleep with me." Tristan looked at me, but ultimately put on his clothes and stood up. "You sleep first. I'll go check on the child." The door closed. I sat up and simply cleaned up the blood between my legs. I encountered Nora when I went downstairs to get medicine. She stood at the top of the stairs, as if she'd been waiting specifically for me. Her gaze slowly moved from the marks on my neck to my face, lingering there for a long time. "You know, during the years you were gone, Tristan treated me very well." Her voice was soft. "So why did you have to come back?" I didn't have time to answer. She suddenly pressed a knife into my hand, then gripped my hand and stabbed it viciously into her own forearm. Blood spurted out, warm, splashing onto the back of my hand. "Tristan, save me..." When Tristan rushed out of the children's room, I was still holding that knife. Nora lay in a pool of blood. Andy ran out barefoot, crying and calling for his mommy. "Susie, what are you doing!" Nora's eyes filled with tears. "Susie, why do you want to kill me? Can you really not tolerate my existence?" It wasn't me. She was the one who gripped my hand and stabbed herself. I opened my mouth. "It wasn't me... She did it herself..." When the slap came, I turned my face away. Blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. I tasted rust. Tristan looked down at me, his eyes filled with familiar anger and disappointment. "You want to say she gripped your hand and hurt herself?" "Susie, even your lies should have limits." He crouched down, gently lifting Nora, tearing off his shirt to stanch her bleeding. When he looked at me again, only coldness remained in his eyes. "Last time you saved Nora, I thought you'd really changed. I suspected the academy had treated you poorly, that you'd suffered wrongs. I sent people to investigate. I even regretted sending you there." "But you—" He turned his face away, as if he couldn't bear to look at me any longer. "Either go back to the academy, or just die! Susie, don't force me to choose for you." I froze, my body trembling with fear. I didn't want to die, and I didn't want to return to the academy. I didn't want to choose. I looked at Tristan's face anxiously and carefully—from his brow bone, eyes, to his tightly pressed lips—trying to find any sign of relenting. But there was none. He was serious. Seeing that I still hadn't moved, he lost patience, his eyes cold as he ordered, "Take the lady away. Send her back to the academy. Tell them to discipline her properly! If they still can't teach her—" Before the bodyguards could forcibly drag me away, my head was spinning and I stumbled toward the exit in a panic. All the rules and propriety I'd learned these past years seemed to vanish in that moment. In my panic, I seemed to trip over something. My knee split open and bled, but I didn't care. I had only one thought: I absolutely could not go back there. Even if it meant death, I didn't want to return to that place where even breathing had to be calculated. I didn't want to be scrutinized like livestock again. And I didn't want... to love Tristan anymore. Behind me, Nora groaned, as if the pain was unbearable. I only heard Tristan urgently call her name, soothing her. "Nora, hang in there. The ambulance will be here soon!" Andy stood barefoot on the floor, also crying out, "Mommy, Mommy!" Everyone was surrounding Nora. No one was looking at me. Outside was Harbor City's night. Traffic was sparse. I walked along the road to the river's edge. Below the bridge, the river water rushed violently. I climbed over the railing and took a step forward. Then I leaped!
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