During our vacation, my chest suddenly tightened. I gasped for air, clutching my heart. My sister frantically rummaged through her bag for my medication and was clipped by a passing car, falling to the ground. She wasn't seriously hurt, but my fiancé, Ethan, stopped dead in his tracks. "Riley, aren't you tired of faking these panic attacks after all these years?" My sister, Chloe, immediately stepped in front of me. "Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you?" He furrowed his brows, bending down to check her scraped knee. "Are you stupid? If it wasn't for her, would you be bleeding right now?" His eyes were overflowing with heartache. "Last time you had that huge job interview, it was practically a done deal. She made one phone call saying she couldn't breathe, and you dropped everything and ran." "And when you came back, you just smiled and told me, 'It's fine, there's always next time.'" Chloe tilted her chin up stubbornly, though her voice softened. "What are you talking about? Taking care of Riley is my responsibility." In a spot they couldn't see, I was gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. The screen was still frozen on a message I had received three seconds ago. A message sent from my future self: "Do you believe me now? He never loved you." ............. I clutched my chest, taking short, ragged breaths as I slowly sank to a squat. Under Chloe’s fierce glaring, Ethan finally knelt in front of me. Right there in the middle of the crowded street. He said, "I'm sorry. I was just too worried about you. I didn't mean what I said." But as soon as the words left his mouth, he didn't spare me another glance. He turned, scooped Chloe up into his arms, and ran toward the nearest urgent care. Actually, Chloe was fine. When the car clipped her, I had thrown myself under her to break the fall. My knees were torn to shreds, flesh and blood mingling with the asphalt. But no one cared. Just yesterday, Ethan—my boyfriend of three years—had proposed to me, and I had excitedly nodded yes. But right before I fell asleep, I received a photo from the future. It showed a woman sitting in a wheelchair. Her cheeks were sunken and hollow, her dry, lifeless hair tied haphazardly at the back of her head. That face... was undeniably mine, but aged a grueling ten years. Beneath the photo was a single line of text: "Remember, do not marry him." Before today, I had brushed it off as some sick prank. Watching their silhouettes disappear around the corner, my trembling fingers dialed the number back. The voice on the other end was low, suppressing an ocean of pain: "If you follow them right now, you'll uncover the truth." My instincts screamed at me to back away, to stay in the dark, but my feet moved on their own. When I caught up, they had stopped in the corner of a hospital stairwell. Ethan was crouched on the ground, carefully holding Chloe’s calf like it was a fragile, priceless artifact. His fingertips gently brushed the redness of her knee. "I'm going to tell her the truth. Whatever anger she has, she can take it out on me. I can't stand seeing you like this anymore." Chloe shoved him away. "Are you out of your mind? You literally just proposed to her." "I told you I'm fine, it’s just a scrape. Why did you talk to Riley like that earlier?" Ethan looked up at her. His eyes were red. "Chloe, why did I ask her to marry me? Do you honestly not know?" Chloe fell silent. "That time you missed your interview, you smiled at me like it was nothing. But that night, I saw you sitting alone on the balcony until 3 AM." The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell clicked off, then flickered back on. Their shadows merged on the concrete wall, blurring the lines of who was who. "Do you know how much that broke my heart?" He pulled her into a tight embrace, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Chloe... I'll marry her. I'll take care of her... Just, please, can you finally live for yourself?" Chloe’s eyelashes fluttered. "I owe Riley my life..." A deathly silence filled the stairwell. It felt exactly like that quiet, sweltering summer afternoon years ago. My parents had held my hand as we walked into the children’s group home. "Riley, you get too lonely by yourself. Let's find you a companion." I wandered into the backyard and saw Chloe, two years older than me, being kicked into the deep end of the pool by some older kids. My screams brought my parents running. When Chloe was pulled out, she was drenched, her lips bruised purple. I clung to my dad’s hand, crying, "I want this sister! If she stays here, she'll die!" Later, she cautiously took my hand. "From now on, I'll protect you." The year my parents died in a horrific car crash, I developed severe, psychosomatic panic attacks. Whenever I experienced extreme emotional distress, my chest would seize up, mimicking a heart attack. Even though Chloe was shaking violently herself back then, she forced herself to stand strong and wipe my tears. In middle school, when boys pulled my hair and called me an "orphan freak," she stood in front of me like a feral cat, ready to scratch their eyes out. Even when her own legs were trembling, she didn't take a single step back. In college, I took a waitress job to ease our financial burden and got harassed by a drunk customer. When she found out, she took an overnight bus just to see me. "Riley, don't be afraid. I'll go make the money. You just focus on your studies." She was always like that. Even if the sky fell, Chloe would be there to hold it up. Tears finally fell. I leaned against the heavy fire door, slowly sliding to the floor. I put the phone to my ear. "When did it start between them?" Silence stretched on the other end. "Actually, the first time you ever truly met Ethan..." "He was on his way to confess his feelings to Chloe." That cliché moment when he heroically "saved" me during a panic attack... that heart-fluttering encounter... it was all just a cosmic mistake. I was the one who initiated things with Ethan. I blocked his path after classes, blushing furiously as I shoved a bag of homemade cookies into his hands. To get him his favorite hot breakfast, I'd wake up at 6 AM in the dead of winter and wait in the freezing wind. He once casually mentioned liking a specific vintage fountain pen. When I saved up all my part-time money to buy it for him, I saw a fleeting look of shock and tenderness in his eyes. Back then, my entire world revolved around him. I naively believed that as long as I was sincere enough, I could earn his love in return. He once asked me out of the blue, "If I had someone else in my heart, would you mind?" I thought it was just him feeling insecure about our relationship. I smiled and replied, "If you ever find you can't love me anymore, just promise to tell me first, okay?" Thinking back now... That was probably the only obscure warning his guilty conscience ever gave me. After we made it official, he was undeniably good to me. He knew my emotional triggers caused my condition to flare up. His phone always had the schedules of the best cardiologists and trauma therapists pinned to his home screen. I loved pomegranates, but hated picking out the seeds. He would painstakingly peel and prep bowls of them for me. Once, the doctor said hiking would be good for my stamina. He took me up a mountain, limping the whole way down. I only found out later he had severely sprained his ankle playing basketball the day before. I cried, drowning in guilt, but he pressed me against his chest and comforted me: "You idiot, a broken leg can heal. But if you have another episode, where am I supposed to find another Riley exactly like you?" All that tenderness I had once drowned in now felt like razor blades sliding down my throat. My mind spun, repeating the same agonizing thought over and over: If only she had told me earlier. Before the proposal. Even before Ethan and I got together. If she had just looked me in the eye and said, "Riley, the person I like is actually Ethan." I would have frozen. Maybe my eyes would have welled up. But I would have nodded. I would have backed away. I was always willing to step aside for her, if they had just been honest. But they never said a word. Ethan held my hand, ruffled my hair, and handed me hot coffee in the morning. My heart had been full of nothing but gratitude and joy. I used to brag to Chloe, "Look how good he is to me." And Chloe would stroke my hair and smile, "Our Riley deserves the best." What was going through her mind back then? The voice on the phone spoke again, like a knife coated in venom: "Go home. Look at everything you ignored. Every gift, every decoration." I stumbled back to the apartment Ethan and I shared. With trembling hands, I pushed the door open. For the first time, I truly looked at the space we had shared for the last five years. On the living room wall hung a massive oil painting of the ocean. It was the birthday gift Ethan gave me last year. Only now did I remember—Chloe’s favorite color was blue. Back in the children's home, she would always stare blankly at a faded ocean poster on the wall. I staggered into the bedroom. From the nightstand, the familiar melody of the music box drifted through the air—You Are My Sunshine. My heart seized. When we were kids, terrified of the dark, that was the exact lullaby Chloe used to hum to me. So even the melody he used to lull me to sleep was stolen. Like a madwoman, I rushed into the closet, dragging out the jewelry Ethan had gifted me over the years. Necklaces and bracelets he claimed were "custom-made just for me." I thought of the simple braided red thread Chloe wore around her wrist year-round—her only piece of jewelry. And looking at Ethan's expensive gifts, the design inspirations for almost all of them blatantly mimicked the weaving pattern of that cheap red thread. The pale, exhausted voice echoed from my phone again. "Do you see it now? His love was nothing but a smokescreen." "Listen to me. Stop this before it goes any further." The voice carried an infinite, hollow despair. "He never loved you. He was loving her, through you. And you were just the innocent, cruel shield they used to hide their guilt." Suddenly, keys jingled in the front door. Ethan walked in, carrying Chloe. The moment Chloe saw me, she frantically shoved herself out of his arms. She stumbled, catching herself against the wall, putting distance between them. She didn't even look at him. Her eyes locked onto me. "Riley! Why are your legs bleeding so much?!" She panicked, tearing through the cabinets to find the first-aid kit. She crouched in front of me, swabbing my wounds with alcohol. The sting was excruciating. "Ethan! Are you dead?! Come help me!" Chloe yelled toward the door, her voice thick with tears. But Ethan just stood there. He froze for a few seconds before slowly walking over. "Riley, there's something I need to confess to you..." "Ethan!" Chloe’s head snapped up. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head at him, silently begging him to stop. Ethan looked as though every ounce of life had been drained from him. He stared deeply into my eyes for a long moment, then turned and slammed the front door behind him. The loud bang felt like a physical blow to my chest. "He... he just wanted to say he's excited about the wedding..." Chloe hastily wiped her face, forcing a smile that looked worse than crying. "Riley, this is what you’ve been waiting for... I'm so happy for you." I swallowed the agony tearing at my throat and turned away, terrified my tears would fall if I blinked. Back in my room, a new voice note arrived. My trembling finger tapped play. "On the day of the wedding, Chloe stood crying on the hotel rooftop." "Right when the officiant said, 'You may now kiss the bride,' Ethan suddenly turned... and ran out of the hall like a madman." The audio crackled, the voice breaking. "I went crazy and chased after him. All the way up to the rooftop, where the wind was howling. I saw them holding each other, kissing desperately." "He took the once-in-a-lifetime ring... and put it on Chloe's finger." "I had a massive panic attack right there. It was the worst one I ever had." "By the time the ambulance got me to the hospital, I had flatlined twice. I lived, but I lost the use of my legs." The screen went dark. I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted copper, refusing to let myself sob out loud. The phone remained silent for a long time. "What do you want to do right now?" I stared at the hardwood floor, my voice so hoarse it didn't sound like my own. "I want to go find him." "And then?" "I don't know." I grabbed my messy hair. "I just... I want to hear him say it to my face. When he told me he loved me, who was he really looking at? I need him to say it." I grabbed my jacket. I went straight to the bar Ethan frequented. In the dim lighting and deafening bass, I spotted him in a corner booth immediately. He was slumped against the leather sofa, looking utterly defeated. His best friend, Marcus, patted his shoulder. "Bro, even if you’re gonna come clean, you gotta let her down easy." "I remember when Riley collapsed in the street, you went psychotic. Nobody could hold you back." "And that necklace she made for you? You treat it like a holy relic at your place." "Bullshit!" Ethan snapped, like a dog whose tail had been stepped on. He shoved Marcus’s hand away. "What do you know?! I... I only treated her well because of Chloe!" Even knowing the truth, hearing it out loud still stabbed me right in the heart. Marcus gave Ethan a long, hard look before turning to leave. He dropped one last sentence: "Just make sure you don't regret it later." I stood by the entrance for a long time before slowly walking up behind him. "Ethan, let's break up." His jaw dropped. He stared at me in shock, unable to form a word. I didn't wait. I didn't need a response. I turned on my heel and walked out of the bar, never looking back. I didn't go home. I checked into a random hotel for the night. My phone buzzed. The voice on the other end sounded significantly lighter than the past few days. "Did you break up with him? My legs actually felt a bit better today." I said softly, "Yeah. I just did it." She laughed, a hint of genuine relief in her tone. "Go to Asheville, North Carolina. I ran into our old college friend, Sarah, today. She knows a trauma specialist out there who just moved back from Europe. They specialize in our specific psychosomatic triggers. You should go try." Right before she hung up, she said: "Riley, look forward. There is nothing you can't survive. We are both going to slowly get better." I didn't agree immediately. All my memories were in this city. Cutting the cord was agonizingly hard. The next day, I went back to the apartment to pack. The moment I pushed the door open, the overwhelming stench of alcohol hit my face. Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a cornered, feral beast. Seeing me, he lunged forward and shoved me hard. I slammed against the shoe cabinet, a dull pain radiating through my spine. "Riley, what the hell is your game?!" He practically spit the words, glaring at me with pure venom. "What did you say to Chloe after you left the bar last night?! She ran out in the middle of the night looking for you, and now she won't pick up her damn phone!" My face went pale. I opened my mouth to explain, but he didn't give me a chance. "She would literally die for you! And what do you do? You hide behind her, playing the victim, making her suffer for your sake!" "Do you know she gave up the person she loved because she was too scared of hurting you? Do you know how much she has sacrificed for you over the years? And you just sit there, sucking her dry with zero guilt!" His voice grew louder, echoing in the apartment. Finally, he gritted his teeth. "Was getting your parents killed not enough?! Do you have to kill the sister who spoiled you your whole life too?! Does your family adopting her mean you get to slowly drain her life away?!" I froze. My parents' death!! My heart contracted violently, the pain so sharp I couldn't breathe. My fingertips went numb, and my body began to slide down the wall uncontrollably. He violently yanked my hand away from his arm. His eyes were as cold as a stranger's. "Having another episode?" he sneered. "Don't worry, I asked a doctor once. You won't die from it." He slammed the door shut and walked away. I collapsed on the floor, tears falling silently. That year, I had thrown a tantrum, begging to go to the amusement park. While my dad was driving us there, a drunk driver in a semi-truck blew a red light and T-boned us. My parents in the front seats were killed instantly. Chloe and I survived. From that day on, I suffered from severe PTSD. Whenever I saw a large truck, or felt intense guilt, my body would shake uncontrollably and mimic a heart attack. Chloe had never brought it up in front of me. She would just hold me silently, whispering over and over, "Riley, I'm here. I'm right here." But she took the deepest, bloodiest wound in my soul... And handed it to Ethan, giving him the perfect weapon to stab me with. The familiar, suffocating pressure in my chest grew unbearable. I instinctively reached into my pocket. Empty. My pill bottle was left on the nightstand at the hotel. No medication. No one to rub my back. No hands to wipe the cold sweat off my forehead. In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty: I had lost everything. I dragged myself to a pharmacy in a daze, bought my pills, and swallowed them dry. Then, I took out my phone and booked a one-way flight to Asheville for tonight. In the group chat with the three of us, I tagged Ethan: I'm giving him back to you. I wish you both a long, happy life. Without hesitating, I hit 'Leave Group'.
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