On the very first day we bought our wedding house, Ethan registered my license plate in the community's security system. Yet, every single time I drove up to the underground garage entrance, the barrier gate refused to lift. It was the ninth time I was locked out in the pouring rain. I pulled my car to the side and called Ethan. He answered, his tone so practiced it sounded like he’d memorized a script. "I’m so sorry, babe. The system upgraded yesterday and cleared your plate. "Just park on the street tonight. I’ll get it re-registered tomorrow." Last time, he blamed it on a clueless new property manager. The time before that, he claimed the garage database was full and they had to delete some inactive users first. Only later did I find out that Hailey had casually mentioned to him that day: "We shouldn't register too many cars for the townhome. It might get messy in the future." And just like that, my car was deleted. As I hung up, a BMW sped past me, splashing dirty water everywhere. The muddy water slammed against my car door, and some of it ruined the hem of my freshly washed white dress. Hailey was sitting in the passenger seat, draped in Ethan’s suit jacket. She didn't even spare me a glance. The next second, a notification from the community management app popped up on my phone. *“Long-term parking authorization for Mr. Reynolds’ private spot has been granted to Ms. Brooks.”* Cold rainwater seeped into my shoes, making my toes go numb. If this was a world I had to force my way into, then I didn't want it anymore. ... **1** I parked my car in the furthest visitor lot outside the community. The muddy water soaked my shoes. Every step felt like walking on ice. Holding my umbrella, I walked up to the gated entrance. The security guard glanced at me, his face blank. "Visitor registration, please." I gave him Ethan’s name. The guard tapped on his computer for a moment, his brows furrowing. "Mr. Reynolds doesn't have any visitors registered for tonight." I froze. "I’m his fiancée." A flash of awkwardness crossed the guard's face, and he tapped the screen again. "According to our system notes, the only registered family member for the Reynolds household is a Ms. Brooks. "You... you are listed as a temporary visitor. I need the homeowner's confirmation to let you in." Family member. Temporary visitor. I stood outside the gate as heavy rain poured down the edges of my umbrella. It turned out that in this townhome—where my parents had pitched in $50,000 for the down payment—Hailey was family. And I was just a temporary visitor. The guard called the house. No one picked up. I sent Ethan a couple of Snapchat messages. One, then another. No reply. Instead, our mutual group chat on Snapchat lit up with new notifications. Hailey had posted a photo of a dinner table. It was a lavish spread, with a plate of garlic butter shrimp right in the center. Her caption read: *“Ethan’s mom taught me how to make his favorite garlic butter shrimp tonight. Success on my first try! * A stream of teasing comments immediately followed. *“Are you sure you’re not the actual future daughter-in-law?”* *“Hales feels more like family than the actual girlfriend tbh.”* *“Ethan is a lucky guy.”* Suddenly, someone deleted a message. But I had already seen it. *“Is Chloe here yet? Don't tell me she got locked out of the garage again lmao.”* This group chat was created ages ago when they used to play poker together. I rarely spoke in it. It had been so long that they probably forgot I was even there. I locked my phone. Just then, someone walked out from the gated community. It was Jackson, one of Ethan’s close friends. He was holding a case of seltzers and stopped in his tracks when he saw me. "Chloe? What are you doing standing out here in the rain?" I forced a smile. "The system says I’m just a visitor." Jackson’s expression stiffened. He reached out to scan his keycard for me. But just as his hand lifted, he seemed to remember something and lowered his voice. "Actually... maybe you shouldn't go up tonight. Hailey is there, and Ethan’s mom is in a really good mood. "If you go up... it might get awkward." I stared at him. "Does she come over often?" Jackson opened his mouth, hesitated, and finally admitted the truth. "Yeah, pretty often. "Ethan’s mom really likes her. Thinks she’s sweet and domestic. We used to joke around, saying she seemed more like Ethan's wife." Realizing how that sounded, he quickly added, "I didn't mean it that way, Chloe." I nodded. "It's fine." My phone buzzed again. Ethan had finally replied. *“My mom wanted Hailey to taste-test the catering menu for our wedding. I’m caught up here right now. Find somewhere to stay dry, and wait for me to finish.”* I looked up at the warmly lit window of the townhouse. Inside, people were eating, laughing, and enjoying the shrimp Hailey had made. And I was standing out in the rain, unable to even pass the security gate. I turned around and walked away. The cold rain on my face felt freezing. **2** When I got to my apartment, I took a long, hot shower. The mud stains on my dress wouldn't come out, and my knees were bruised red from the biting cold rain. The next morning, Ethan’s phone call woke me up. It rang three times before I finally picked up. Ethan’s voice sounded a bit raspy. "Why did you leave last night?" I didn't say anything. He sighed. "I asked management about the license plate. Hailey made a mistake when she was registering a temporary car for my mom. "She didn't do it on purpose." It was always this excuse. *She didn't do it on purpose.* I stared at the sunlight piercing through the cracks of the curtains, suddenly feeling exhausted. Ethan’s voice softened. "Let’s have dinner tonight. We still need to finalize the wedding menu. "My mom will be there, too. Don't make her overthink things." I wanted to say no. But then I thought about my parents, who had already booked their flights for the wedding. I thought about the $50,000. In the end, I agreed. When I arrived at the restaurant that evening, the private dining room was already packed. Ethan’s mother, Beatrice, sat at the head of the table. Hailey sat on her right, putting food onto Beatrice’s plate. "Try this, Beatrice. It's light and easy on your stomach." Beatrice smiled so warmly her eyes wrinkled. "Oh, Hailey, you are always so thoughtful." When I pushed the door open, everyone looked up at me. Hailey was the first to stand up. "Chloe! You’re finally here. Come, sit." She pointed to a seat right next to the door. "This spot is perfect for the servers to bring out the food. You can check out the dishes from here." I looked at Ethan. He was busy pouring water for his mother, refusing to look at me. So, I sat down. Throughout the entire dinner, Hailey acted like the hostess. She picked the menu. She selected the wine. She even weighed in on what color dress Beatrice should wear on the wedding day. "Let's go with the king crab for the main course. We should make the whole menu seafood-based. What do you think? "Seafood is a bit pricey, but it looks sophisticated. We can't have the Reynolds family wedding looking cheap." My mother was severely allergic to seafood. I had told Ethan this three days ago. I looked at Ethan, waiting for him to speak up. But he just smiled and said, "I trust your taste, Hailey." Beatrice patted Hailey's hand. "If it weren't for Hailey helping out, I seriously wouldn't know what to do." Hailey looked down, blushing. "Don't say that, Beatrice. I just want the wedding to be perfect." Someone laughed and teased, "Honestly, Hales, if I didn't know better, I’d think you were the bride." The room erupted into laughter. Ethan laughed, too. Only my fork hovered frozen in the air. As if suddenly remembering I was there, Hailey quickly looked over at me. "Chloe, you don't mind, right? We've been joking like this since we were kids." I set my fork down. "I don't mind." Ethan finally looked at me. His eyes held a look of approval, as if praising me for being "reasonable." Halfway through the dinner, Beatrice suddenly brought up the townhouse. "The remodeling is almost done. The final payment is due in a few days." She looked at me, her tone incredibly casual. "Chloe, that $50,000 your parents sent... let's just count that as a contribution toward the joint household expenses." I looked up. "What do you mean, joint household expenses?" Beatrice’s smile faded a bit. "You two are getting married soon. Why are you keeping score? "Ethan bought the townhouse before the marriage. You contributing a little bit of money is just for your future life together, isn't it?" My hand clenched tightly around my water glass. "My dad wrote 'down payment for the house' in the bank transfer memo." The room went dead silent. Hailey gently put her forks down, her voice soft and sweet. "Chloe, Beatrice didn't mean it like that. She's probably just trying to take the pressure off you. "You don't need to be so sensitive whenever money is brought up." Ethan frowned. "Chloe, we are here to finalize the menu today, not to do accounting." I stared at him. "My parents gave us $50,000. Am I not even allowed to ask for clarification?" Beatrice’s face completely darkened. "You haven't even married into this family yet, and you’re already calculating everything so coldly." Hailey quickly poured her some water. "Don't be upset, Beatrice. Chloe probably just hears her parents talk about money too much." Those words were more insulting than a slap to my face. She made it sound like my parents were greedy schemers, like my entire family was eyeing the Reynolds' property. **3** Just as I was about to speak, the server walked in carrying hot soup. Hailey stood up to help take the bowl. Her hand slipped, and the entire bowl of scalding soup spilled directly onto my lap. The burning heat instantly seared through my dress and onto my skin. I gasped in pain. But Ethan’s first instinct was to grab Hailey’s wrist. "Did you get burned?" Hailey’s eyes immediately welled with tears. "I’m fine, I’m fine... I just scared Chloe." Beatrice frowned at me. "It's just a little soup, Chloe. You were sitting so far out, no wonder you bumped into Hailey." I looked down at my soaked dress. The hot soup was dripping down my shins, sticky and disgusting. I was just sitting there, yet somehow I was the one who bumped into her. Nobody asked if I was hurt. They were only worried that Hailey might feel bad. I stood up. "I'm going to the restroom." The moment the door shut behind me, I heard Hailey’s whimpering voice from inside: "Ethan... is Chloe mad at me?" And Ethan’s low, comforting voice: "No, she’s not that petty." Standing outside the door, I let out a dry laugh. It turned out that my politeness and maturity had just been their free pass to walk all over me. After cleaning myself up, I didn't go back to that suffocating room. I walked straight to my car, my knees still throbbing with a dull pain. As soon as I pressed the unlock button, Ethan’s hand reached over my shoulder and yanked the driver's side door open. "Chloe, Hailey isn't feeling well. I need to take your car to drive her to the hospital." Ethan pulled the door wide open. Hailey was standing right behind him. "I’m so sorry, Chloe. Ethan planned on drinking tonight so he didn't drive. You don't mind if we borrow your car, right?" Before I could even speak, Ethan had already slid into the driver's seat. Instinctively, I reached for the passenger door. But Hailey quickly stepped in front of me. "Chloe, can I please sit in the front?" She clutched her stomach, her face pale. "My stomach hurts so bad, and I get motion sickness in the back." Without waiting for my answer, she pulled open the door and sat inside. Ethan glanced at me. "Just sit in the back, Chloe. You can drive the car back once we get to the hospital. "It’s a good thing you were out here, otherwise I would have had to ask you for the keys." He didn't ask why I had left the dinner early. Instead, he was just glad my departure had made things convenient for them. I pulled open the back door and got in. The car started moving. Hailey took out a few interior design mock-ups from her bag and handed them to Ethan. "Your mom said this room has the best lighting. She suggested we don't turn it into a nursery just yet. "I’ve been taking more design clients lately and need to film content. Can I use it as my temporary studio?" Ethan glanced at the papers. "You can just sort that out with my mom." Sitting in the back seat, my fingers clenched into tight fists. That room was the one I had planned for my parents. They were flying in for the wedding; they couldn't just stay in a hotel the entire time. Hailey turned around to look at me, as if she had just remembered my existence. "Chloe, you don't mind, right? "I’ll only use it occasionally. I won't get in your way." I looked her dead in the eye. "You don't get to make decisions about my townhouse, Hailey." The car fell dead silent. Ethan’s brows knitted together. "Chloe." Just one word, but it was loaded with warning. Hailey lowered her head, her voice turning soft and pathetic. "Never mind. I won't interfere. I don't want to be a nuisance." Ethan's face completely darkened. "Do you have to speak like that?" I looked out the window and didn't reply. As the car neared the hospital, Hailey suddenly clutched her chest. "Ethan, my stomach is so upset..." Ethan immediately pulled over to the curb. "What's wrong?" She leaned back against the seat, her breathing shallow. After a few seconds, she suddenly turned her head to look at me. "Is it... is it the smell of the soup on Chloe’s dress? It's making me so nauseous..." I was stunned. "You were the one who spilled the soup on me." But Ethan had already gotten out of the car and opened my door. "Get out for a bit, Chloe." The cold night wind rushed into the car. I stared at him. "This is my car." He avoided my eyes. "Hailey is really sick right now. Just call an Uber. I'll bring the car back to you tomorrow." I didn't budge. Ethan’s voice turned colder. "Chloe, can you have some empathy for once?" I got out of the car. The door slammed shut in my face. The car sped away into the night. **4** My phone battery was at three percent. Standing by the curb, I was about to call a ride when a notification from Instagram popped up. It was a new post from Hailey. The photo showed a corner of the coffee table in the townhouse, taken yesterday. Next to a coffee mug lay a document. Her caption read: *“Beatrice told me that there’s a place for me in this home, too. ?✨”* I clicked on the photo. And zoomed in. The cover of the document revealed a few words: *“Pre-Marital Asset Confirmation Agreement.”* Further down, partially covered by the mug, was a clause: *“The transfer of $50,000 shall be deemed a voluntary gift from Chloe Evans to Ethan Reynolds.”* The moment those words registered, the coldness in my body vanished. All I could hear was the sound of something snapping inside me. I hailed an Uber and gave the driver the address of the townhouse. The driver glanced at my stained dress but didn't ask questions. When I reached the community gate, the security guard recognized me this time. He hesitated for a second before letting me in. "Ms. Evans... Mrs. Reynolds said earlier that you wouldn't be coming tonight." My footsteps paused. "Which Mrs. Reynolds?" The guard blinked. "Mr. Reynolds' mother." I nodded and didn't say another word. The keypad lock passcode hadn't been changed. When I pushed the door open, the living room lights were on. The coffee table was a complete mess. My parents’ $50,000 transfer receipt had been crumpled into a ball and thrown next to the trash can. Our signed co-ownership agreement was torn in half. The agreement that originally stated: *“Chloe Evans contributes $50,000 toward the down payment, and both parties shall jointly repay the mortgage after marriage.”* Now, the signature section was soaked in water. My name was blurred into an unrecognizable smudge. There was even a faint shoe print on the paper. I knelt down, picking up the torn pieces one by one. My hands were shaking violently. My dad had insisted I keep this agreement. He had told me: "It's not that I don't trust Ethan, Chloe. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of." At the time, I laughed and told him he was overthinking. Now I realized he was the only sober one. I took photos of the ruined papers, the trash can, and the messy table. The drawer was half-open. Inside lay another document. The cover was identical to the one Hailey had posted on Instagram. *“Pre-Marital Asset Confirmation Agreement.”* I flipped to the last page. Under the signature line, the name "Chloe Evans" was clearly written. But it wasn't my handwriting. And the clauses inside were even more insulting. *“Chloe Evans voluntarily confirms that the property under Ethan Reynolds’ name has no relation to her.* *The prior transfer of $50,000 was a voluntary gift during the relationship and shall not be refunded.* *After marriage, both parties shall manage their incomes independently, and the marriage shall not alter the property rights.”* I stared at it for a long time. Then, I let out a soft laugh. It turned out they didn't invite me last night to taste-test a menu. They invited me to test my limits. I called Ethan. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. His voice was hushed. "I'm at the hospital. Hailey just got hooked up to an IV. Let's talk tomorrow." I looked at the forged agreement in my hand. "The pre-marital agreement. Who prepared it?" The other end went dead silent for a couple of seconds. "What agreement?" "The one with my forged signature." I could hear Hailey softly coughing in the background. Ethan’s tone instantly turned irritated. "Chloe, I told you we’ll talk tomorrow. Do you have to pick a fight tonight?" I closed my eyes. "It’s a forged signature, Ethan." His voice turned cold. "Who would forge your signature? My mom probably just asked a lawyer to draft a template, and you haven't even seen it yet. "What kind of crazy theories are you making up now? Is this fun for you?" I clenched my phone. "Our co-ownership agreement was torn to pieces and thrown in the trash." "The money isn't lost," he snapped, his voice even colder. "Aren't we going to be family after we marry anyway? Why are you being so greedy and calculating? Do you even want to get married?" The call went dead. Standing in the living room, this house felt terrifyingly foreign. My eyes caught a grocery receipt in the trash can. King crab, pineapples, chocolates. All of Hailey’s favorites. And on the very last line: a pregnancy test. Purchase time: two days ago. Member account used: Ethan Reynolds. My eyes lingered on the words "pregnancy test" for what felt like an eternity. My period had just ended two days ago. In the trash, there was also the torn box of the pregnancy test, matching the brand on the receipt. I didn't cry. I didn't smash anything. I simply photographed every piece of evidence and uploaded it to my Google Drive. Then, I sent a message to a college friend who was now a practicing attorney. "If someone forges my signature on a legal document, can I sue them?" She replied almost instantly. "Yes. "Don't touch the evidence. Take photos of the originals, keep them safe, and come to my firm tomorrow." I set my phone down. I began packing everything that belonged to me. My clothes, my mugs, my slippers, and the security keycard at the entrance that I had been so terrified of losing. Finally, I placed the keycard back on the shoe cabinet. It used to feel like proof that I belonged here. Now, it was just a useless piece of plastic. TThe door clicked shut behind me. The hallway motion lights flickered on, then died out. I never looked back.
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