Parallel Call

New Year’s Eve. A video call, unexpected, from my past self, eight years ago, in a parallel timeline. Her eyes on the screen sparkled. “Harry just confessed his feelings for me today! He said he’d plant a whole yard full of my favorite flowers, spend every New Year’s Eve with me, and spoil me rotten forever!” She chattered on, painting vivid pictures of a future brimming with joy. I listened, quietly, a small smile playing on my lips. Then, she paused, her gaze shifting to the empty room behind me. “Hey? Where’s Harry? We must be so happy eight years from now, right?” I said nothing. Instead, I slowly turned the camera, aiming it at the other end of the living room. There, Harry was pinning a stranger against the floor-to-ceiling window, kissing her with an intensity that bordered on desperation. 1 The woman was pressed against him, body arched, her hand leaving a steamy, damp print on the fogged glass. Harry let out a low growl, his hand straying, giving her backside an impertinent squeeze. She shifted, uncomfortable, then looked up. Her eyes, through the glass, found mine. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but then she melted into Harry, her body swaying against him as if boneless. “Harry, darling, is someone else home?” He seemed unfazed, even using her upward tilt to deepen their kiss. His eyes, open, met mine—cold, almost playful. “Ignore her. She won’t mind, will she?” Mind? That word had long grown stale on my tongue. From screaming fits to numb acceptance, eventually, the desire to even speak had withered away. But on the screen, my eight-year-younger self had gone utterly pale, her hand trembling as she disconnected the call. The performance by the window, however, escalated. I lowered my head, sending a New Year’s greeting to my brother, who had vanished years ago, just to distract myself. The woman laughed, a giddy sound, her hands bolder now, roaming over Harry’s body. “Where did you find a wife so…understanding?” Then, they tangled, clothes scattering—a jacket, a tie, stockings—a trail leading up the stairs. Such scenes had become a regular, sordid film in this cold, sterile villa. I couldn’t even summon the energy to lift an eyelid. As the awkward New Year’s Eve comedy special on TV threatened to lull me to sleep on the sofa, a maid roused me. She spoke, her voice laced with discomfort. “Mr. Miller wants you to go out and buy…lubricant.” New Year’s Eve. The streets were deserted, only a handful of adult stores open. I walked for over half an hour against the biting wind. When I returned, I faintly heard two maids gossiping about me. “Poor Luna. These past eight years, she’s lived worse than a servant.” “Well, she shouldn’t have resorted to such underhanded tactics to marry Mr. Miller. It’s a miracle he even gave her a title.” Memories clawed their way back. Harry had been on a trip to Silver Creek, a mountain village, when we met. We fell in love. Pure, fierce, like the winds of the peaks. I left everything behind, following him to his city. But his mother vehemently opposed it, dismissing me as a “mountain girl.” Harry, though, had held my hand tightly back then, saying, “Don’t worry. I’ll make my mom agree.” Then, my brother, who had never gambled in his life, suddenly racked up a colossal debt. Desperate, he listened to someone’s dark suggestion. If he could just get me into Harry’s bed, force the issue, the Miller family, to save face, would surely marry me, and his debts would be cleared. My brother drugged both me and Harry. After a night of chaotic confusion, Harry’s gaze, once filled with tenderness, turned icy and hateful. He married me, then threw a check at me. “Remember, this money, you owe me.” Our marriage, a dream meant to be born of mutual affection, had twisted into a nightmare. He believed it was a conspiracy, orchestrated by my brother and me. I had tried to suggest divorce more than once. Each time, he would sneer, “You want a divorce? Fine. Return that fifty million, interest included. Otherwise, I’ll find your brother and make sure he rots in a cell.” My brother had vanished without a trace. This debt, it was shackled to me. Harry flung open the bedroom door. The red marks all over his torso were a jarring sight. “What took you so long?” He snatched the box from my hand, its plastic edge scraping my cheek, a sharp sting. “She’s too tight, couldn’t wait.” My peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the naked figure on the large bed inside the room. My stomach churned. I turned to escape. But his voice, playful, followed me. “Or maybe you want to join us?” I finally broke, clutching the toilet bowl, emptying my guts until I was dizzy. I called my past self again, video on. I asked, “Do you think he still loves me?” She cried, but disbelief still clung to her words. “How could he become like this? He clearly said he’d only love me!” I knew that without having lived through these years of despair, words alone couldn’t convey the depth of it. Perhaps she would, like my past self, make excuses for him, believing it was just a temporary misunderstanding. I didn’t blame her. Instead, I invited her to keep watching. 2 New Year’s Day. When I woke, the woman from last night was gone. But she’d left a pair of panties on the sofa. Harry followed my gaze, then suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close. “What, jealous?” He leaned in to kiss me, and I instinctively recoiled. The flicker of tenderness that had briefly softened his eyes instantly morphed into mockery. “Always that same lifeless look.” “You only screamed like a real woman the night you drugged me and crawled into my bed.” His words pierced my heart, a wave of shame washing over me. But he simply pushed me away, coldly. “Alright, it’s New Year’s Day. We have to go back to the old mansion to pay respects to my mom.” Harry’s mother was the person I dreaded facing most. All these years, her eyes had always looked at me as if I were something dirty. But this time, she didn’t even glance my way. She sat on the sofa, deep in conversation with the very woman who had been in Harry’s arms last night. Turns out, she was Layla Thorne, the woman Harry was originally meant to marry. Mrs. Miller patted Layla’s hand, her eyes full of approval. “Such a good girl. If it weren’t for that awful girl, you would have been our daughter-in-law by now.” Harry walked over, a playful smirk on his face. “Mom, I’m already married. Why bring that up? If you like her so much, just have her come visit more often.” “And what role would I play? Call you brother?” Layla’s laugh was sweet and innocent. But the word “brother” had tormented me all night, whispered brokenly during their indulgent acts. Now, they smiled at each other, looking like a true family. And I, awkward and out of place, stood on the periphery, a glaring outsider. At dinner, simply because Layla mentioned, “I’d like some beef,” Mrs. Miller had the kitchen prepare a whole table of beef dishes. Our village tradition forbade eating beef; we couldn’t even touch it. Seeing me hesitate to pick up my chopsticks, Mrs. Miller finally turned her gaze to me, her eyes filled with annoyance. “What are you waiting for? Eat! Don’t be so dramatic!” “In our family, you should do as the Romans do, understand?” I looked at Harry helplessly, my last shred of hope resting on him. At least he used to understand me. Then, he picked up something that looked like a mushroom and placed it on my plate. “Mom, don’t scare her.” The tenderness in his voice offered a fleeting glimpse of the man he once was. “This isn’t beef, Luna. Try it, it’s delicious.” I ate it without suspicion. But the moment my teeth sank into it, Layla’s laughter shattered the silence. She pointed at me, her tone innocent yet cruel. “Look! She’s eating beef!” “I knew it! There’s no such thing as beliefs or taboos, it’s all just excuses, pretending to be prim and proper!” Harry had tricked me. I stumbled to the bathroom, thrusting my fingers down my throat. I wanted to vomit out that piece of meat, along with all the degradation and betrayal I had swallowed over the years. Physiological tears blurred my vision. I called my eight-year-younger self again. This time, she was silent for a very long time. Then, she began to reminisce about the clear stream in our village. He had looked at me, his eyes bright like stars. “Luna, I did my research beforehand. You folks from Silver Creek don’t eat beef, right?” “When we’re together, I’ll be with you, and I’ll never touch it either.” But now? My past self on the video call looked even more despairing than I did. “This…this isn’t what I wanted…” She sobbed hysterically, repeating, “It hurts too much.” Does it hurt? I had grown so accustomed to it, I couldn’t shed another tear. 3 Harry disappeared for several days again. One day, as I stared blankly at my phone, I unexpectedly received a message from my brother, asking to meet. This news was like a beam of light in the darkness, making me believe he was coming to pull me out of this quagmire. But in reality, my brother grabbed my hand, trembling. “Luna, I’m so sorry… I think I’ve been set up…” “They’re demanding thirty million now, or they’ll kill me…” Hope shattered instantly, replaced by an even deeper sense of helplessness. The previous fifty million had already nailed me to the pillar of shame, forcing me to sell myself for money, tormenting me day and night. How could I possibly ask Harry for more now? Just as I felt lost and overwhelmed, the two lines on the pregnancy test stick seemed to mock me with an absurd joke. I finally waited for Harry to come home. “Thirty million for a child, is it a good deal?” My voice was so calm, it sounded alien even to myself. His pupils constricted. The next second, he grabbed my neck, shoving me violently against the wall. Suffocation instantly seized me. His eyes burned with raging fury and thinly veiled hatred. “I never realized how calculating you were! You’d even put your own unborn child up for sale!” “Do you have any heart at all? Besides money, was there ever anything real between us?” Real? My entire heart had long since been ground to dust by him, in the countless nights of humiliation over these past eight years. A gust of wind, and nothing was left. I ignored his malice, merely persisting, “Is it a deal?” He was finally utterly enraged by my attitude. He threw me onto the bed, tearing at my clothes heedlessly. “Harry! I’m pregnant! Not now!” As I struggled desperately, he pulled out a card and threw it at my face. “Fine! I’ll buy this kid’s life!” He leaned over, his breath hot against my ear, his words cutting deep. “And if it’s gone, that’s on me too.” That night was a hellish nightmare. When I dragged my seemingly broken body to the hospital for a check-up, the baby, incredibly, was still there. I touched my still-flat belly, feeling a sense of connection for the first time. A few days later, when Harry returned home, I calmly told him, “I had it checked, the baby’s fine. I’m going to have him, to make good on your thirty million.” His movements stalled. He stared at my slightly bulging abdomen, lost in thought. Then, he violently smashed the ashtray beside him onto the floor. The shattering sound was deafening. “You’re ruthless!” He didn’t even glance at my feet, which were cut by the fragments, then turned and slammed the door as he left. That night, I called my eight-year-younger self again, video on. “I don’t want my future to be like this…” She shook her head, her voice broken. “I don’t want my baby to be born into a home full of nothing but humiliation… I don’t want to…” Listening to her repeated whispers, I suddenly felt that perhaps everything could still change. A few days after the thirty million was transferred, my brother called me to meet again. This time, he cried, repeatedly hitting himself. “Little sister, I’m not human! I owe another ten million… I swear, this is the last time!” I stared at him blankly, unable to think of any other reason to beg Harry. I could only wait until he returned home again, then knelt before him. “Give me another ten million, and I’ll do anything you ask!” Harry kicked me away, then suddenly laughed. “What part of you is worth ten million now?” 4 Watching his retreating back as he slammed the door, I knew he had likely reached the limits of his patience with me. But my brother sent me another video—him being beaten by several men, pinned to the ground. I had no choice but to call Harry again and again, pleading, “Please, I’ll even die if you want!” Then, I listened to him and Layla all night, and received no response. At dawn, when I found my brother again, he was lying on the ground, covered in blood. With his last ounce of strength, he grabbed me. “Little sister… I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let you be with him back then…” I froze, hearing him say, “Yesterday, I just found out it was the Millers who tricked me into gambling… They set me up…” “Every single time… it was them… even forcing the marriage, that was the Millers’ idea…” Every word, I understood. But put together, they were so brutally cruel. The Millers? Then what was all that I had endured for these eight years? Was I foolish, or did I deserve it? I didn’t even have time to process this crushing truth. The doctor informed me that my brother was in multi-organ failure, his life hanging by a thread. Deeper than despair was yet another despair. Just as I was crying, begging the doctor to save my brother, Harry, with Layla, whose back had surprisingly gotten twisted in bed last night, appeared at the hospital. “Harry!” The accumulated hatred exploded. I rushed towards him like a madwoman, grabbing his collar, hysterical. “It was you! It was your family who set up my brother! Wasn’t it?!” Harry froze for a moment, then frowned. “What on earth are you babbling about! I wouldn’t stoop to such underhanded tactics!” I pointed at my brother, who was on the brink of death on the hospital bed, my fingertips trembling. “Harry, stop pretending! What else are you capable of?!” “You’ve toyed with my brother and me, turning us upside down! Are you satisfied now?!” Harry’s face darkened, his eyes turning completely cold. “Luna, remember this: you brought this upon yourself!” He gestured to the doctor beside him. “Get every doctor in this hospital to treat Ms. Thorne’s back.” “As for some half-dead individuals, there’s no need to waste medical resources.” One by one, the doctors, ignoring my screams and pleas, removed all the tubes and instruments from my brother’s body. Soon, my brother’s body gave one last twitch, then fell silent. I collapsed to the ground, crying, watching Harry walk away, arm around Layla. “Harry, if I could do it all over again, I would never make the same mistakes.” A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and warm liquid gushed out. Before I lost consciousness, I made one last call to my eight-year-younger self. “Leave him.” I spoke with a dying desperation. “We can live again.” She bit her lip, hard, then finally nodded. “Okay.” Harry, perhaps due to a lingering flicker of conscience, or maybe remembering Luna had lost her brother and then her child, came home uncharacteristically early. Pushing open the door, a strange emptiness washed over him. He hadn’t quite registered what was missing. Just then, the maid brought him a cup of coffee. He took a sip, then spat it out, his brows furrowed. “The taste is off. Have Luna brew another one.” The maid looked bewildered. “Luna? Sir, who is Luna?” Harry’s heart inexplicably tightened. He said impatiently, “My wife, Luna!” The maid looked even more confused. “Mr. Miller, when did you get married? We haven’t heard you have a wife.”