Six Years of Feigned Devotion

The day I decided to finally pursue Alaric Newlywed, he confessed his feelings for me.

Yet, the affection meter above his head clearly read '0'.

After we became official, he adored me beyond measure. On our sixth anniversary, he proposed publicly. Tears welling in my eyes, I was about to say yes, when a stream of comments scrolled across my vision:

Poor secondary lead, pretending for six years with this villainess just to protect the heroine!

This stand-in is really into the role, LOL!

My blood ran cold. No wonder the number hadn't changed in six years.

Simultaneously, a chilling system alert exploded in my mind:

Final stage activated. Countdown to pursuit: Ten days.

Failure will result in your complete erasure.

I smiled, pulling my hand back from his outstretched ring, wiping away my tears. "Sorry, this game? I'm bored of it."

The comments were still scrolling:

Woah, the villainess's eyes just changed?

About time she realized, the secondary lead only cares about the heroine.

Waiting for her to snap and go crazy

Snap? No. I just suddenly remembered so many little things.

He never allowed me to meet anyone alone, claiming he "feared I'd make bad company." He always gently interrupted me when I mentioned my career, saying, "I'll take care of you, darling."

It wasn't affection. It was a cage.

I wandered back to the villa, throwing things into a suitcase mechanically. Passing his study, the comments suddenly surged:

Look at the computer!

Oh no, if she sees the chat history

Danger! Heroine protection mode initiated!

A crisp notification chime echoed from the study.

I pushed the door open. The screen was lit, displaying a chat window between Alaric Newlywed and the main lead, Julian Vance. The latest message was from Alaric:

"She suddenly rejected the proposal. Keep Elara safe these next few days. Don't let Rowan Archer get near her."

Julian replied quickly: "Don't worry. It's been tough on you all these years."

I laughed out loud. How utterly ridiculous. Because of me, two sworn rivals, now united in purpose.

I scrolled up. The chat logs were like a blunt knife, slowly, deliberately slicing through my flesh.

Julian: "I remember, in the original story, Rowan Archer didn't just ruin Elara's face, she also hired someone to disgrace her."

"It must be agonizing to share a bed with that venomous witch every night."

Alaric: "As long as Elara is safe, none of it matters."

Julian: "She seems to be falling deeper in love with you. If she finds out the truth, won't she go even crazier?"

Alaric: "She won't find out."

"If she does, and dares to touch Elara"

"I'll break her limbs, send her to a mental asylum, and keep her locked up for life!"

The last sentence had an exclamation mark. I stared at the screen, my fingertips icy. The comments section erupted:

"It's all worth it" the secondary lead is so in love! You know who I'm talking about!

Am I the only one who finds this conversation chilling? To manipulate someone for six years, just for the heroine?

Come on, that's the villainess! He's doing everyone a favor and protecting his true love, it's a win-win!

Look at the villainess's expression is she about to snap?

Villainess, stop it and run!

Run? I looked down at my slender wrists. Yes, I had to run.

As I dragged my suitcase out, the night was in full swing. I stood by the roadside, unsure where to go. The comments were anxious for me:

Is she really leaving?

Go! Don't hold back our secondary lead and heroine's sweet moments!

Wait is that the secondary lead's car in the distance?!

Headlights pierced the darkness, and a familiar black sedan screeched to a halt beside me. Alaric got out, his shirt slightly rumpled, his breathing ragged, his face displaying a perfectly calibrated mix of panic and sorrow:

"Rowan, I'm sorry, I was too hasty I thought you'd be happy."

He reached out, trying to take my hand, his eyes red-rimmed. "Don't go. Let's talk this over, okay?"

In the past, I would have melted completely. But now, I could only recall the chat log's chilling promise: "break her limbs and lock her up."

I stepped back, avoiding his touch.

"It's not your fault," I heard my voice, light and airy. "I'm just tired of it."

"Tired?" His eyelashes fluttered as if he didn't understand the word. "You don't love me anymore?"

Under the streetlamp, his features were bathed in fragmented light, his acting so convincing it could win awards. A comment drifted by:

Honestly, not everything he did for her these years was fake, right kinda heartbreaking.

That comment suddenly enlightened me. I looked up, meeting his eyes directly:

"Alaric Newlywed."

"These past six years, was there even a single second when you truly felt happy?"

His pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. He didn't answer.

But the comments exploded:

!!! She knows?!

OMG OMG high alert

Secondary lead, what are you waiting for! Lie!

The wind was cold. I gripped my suitcase and turned, disappearing into the night. No footsteps followed. Only the countdown ticking clearly in my mind:

9 days 23 hours 59 minutes.

The game wasn't over. But the player no longer wanted to follow the rules.

I hailed a taxi, leaning against the window, my hands trembling. Not from fear. From exhilaration. To finally shed six years of pretenseit felt like taking a first deep breath. The countdown flickered chillingly before my eyes:

9 days 23 hours 10 minutes.

Less than ten days left to live. All because of someone who would never love me. How utterly absurd.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

I gave him the address: my favorite riverside coffee shop from way back. Alaric used to say it was "too loud, too messy." He stopped me from going there after a while.

The comments floated by:

Where is she going? Shouldn't she be running?

Alaric's last look was terrifying

Am I the only one who thinks she looks stunning in that red dress?

Outside the window, the city lights blurred into a streak. For six years, Id lived as if in a glass dome, seeing only the world filtered through Alarics lens. Now the glass was shattered. The wind poured in, bringing with it the aroma of street-side barbecue, the damp river breeze, the chatter of strangers. It was so real, it made me want to cry.

The coffee shop was still in its old spot. As I pushed the door open, the wind chimes jingled. The owner, a man with a grizzled beard, stared at me for a moment. "Rowan?"

"Mr. Chen, long time no see."

"It really is you!" He wiped his hands and came from behind the counter. "Must be five or six years, right? You used to love that window seat, could write a whole afternoon's homework with one latte"

That's when I remembered. Before I knew Alaric, I often came here to write my thesis. Back then, I was a film student, dreaming of winning an Oscar, filling script margins with annotations.

What happened after that?

Alaric said, "Acting is too tough, I'll take care of you."

He said, "The entertainment industry is too chaotic for you."

He said, "Rowan, having me is enough."

And I believed him. I gave up auditions, turned down contracts, locked my dreams in a drawer, and handed him the key.

"The usual?" Mr. Chen asked.

"Yes." I paused. "And a slice of Tiramisu."

I never dared to eat it before; Alaric said I'd "get fat, not look good on camera." But now I only had ten days left. What did it matter if I got fat?

The window seat was empty. I sat down, the river breeze caressing my face, the lights from the opposite bank reflecting on the water, shimmering like scattered gold. The first bite of cakethe sweet cream and bitter coffee liqueur melted on my tongue. I closed my eyes. So delicious. This was what it felt like to be alive.

The comments fell silent for a moment, then slowly drifted by:

She's eating so seriously

Why do I suddenly feel a little sad?

Only ten days left to live. I'd want a good meal too.

By the way, will Alaric really let her be this free? I doubt it.

I doubted it too. So when my phone vibrated, displaying "Alaric Newlywed" as the caller, I wasn't surprised. I answered, but said nothing.

"Rowan, where are you?"

"I'm so worried about you." His voice carried a hint of fatigue.

"Eating."

"Come home, Rowan," he softened his tone. "We both need to cool off. I promise, I won't bother you tonight, you can sleep in the guest room. We can talk properly tomorrow, okay?"

Such a familiar tone. For six years, every time I threw a tantrum, he was like this. Gently, patiently, coaxing me back into the cage, then everything would return to normal.

"Alaric Newlywed." I looked at the river. "Do you remember my graduation project from college?"

He was silent for a moment. "Why ask that all of a sudden?"

"I played a woman who was imprisoned. In the end, she set the house on fire and burned herself with it." I scooped up a bite of cake with my spoon. "You said my acting was too extreme, that no one would be that foolish in real life."

"Now I understand."

"She wasn't foolish. She just had nothing left but that one fire."

His breathing on the other end of the line grew heavier. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying," I finished the last bite of cake, "for the next ten days, I'm going to live my own life."

"Don't look for me. Don't disturb me. Don't threaten my family."

"After ten days, if I'm still alive"

I smiled. "Then we can play your game again."

I checked into the most expensive presidential suite in the city, using the credit card Alaric had given me. The comments were still streaming:

Presidential suite??? She really knows how to live it up.

Using the secondary lead's money for a hotel, that's smart.

She only has ten days left, why not splurge?

I tossed my suitcase in the entryway and sank into a bathtub filled with rose petals. The countdown ticked in my mind:

8 days 14 hours 32 minutes.

I had eight and a half days left. My phone was eerily quiet. Alaric hadn't called again. That wasn't like him.

Late at night, I lay in the three-meter-wide bed. Sparse comments drifted by:

Is she really sleeping? So calm.

What's the secondary lead doing? Looks like he's tracking her phone.

Honestly, this feeling of being watched is suffocating.

Just as I was drifting to sleep, I heard a violent kick to the door. I shot upright. The comments instantly exploded:

OMG what was that sound?!

Someone's breaking in!!!

Is it the secondary lead???

Help, I'm so nervous.

Before I could react, the door was violently kicked open. Alaric stood in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot, as if he'd reached his absolute limit of fury.

"Rowan Archer." His voice was hoarse as he strode in, step by step. I instinctively clutched the collar of my robe. He stopped in front of me, his shadow completely engulfing me: "Where is Elara?"

I froze. "What?"

"Don't pretend." He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip so powerful my bones ached. "Where did you take Elara? Tell me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about" I tried to pull free, but his grip tightened. The comments scrolled wildly:

What's going on? The heroine was kidnapped?

The villainess kidnapped her? No way, she's been at the hotel.

The timeline doesn't add up, how would she have time to arrange a kidnapping?

Has the secondary lead gone crazy?

"Alaric Newlywed, let go of me!" I gasped in pain. "I haven't even seen Elara Thorne! I've been here for the past two days"

"Rowan Archer, I underestimated you."

"Playing so heartbroken, only to turn around and kidnap Elara? You truly are malicious."

"I didn't." I gritted my teeth.

He shoved me roughly onto the bed, leaning over me, his hands braced on either side of my head: "I'll give you one last chance. Where is Elara? What did you do to her?" His breath puffed against my face, carrying a near-mad ferocity. In six years, I had never seen Alaric like this.

The comments began to diverge:

The secondary lead is terrifying

But if the villainess really did kidnap the heroine, then she deserves it, right?

Look closely! How would the villainess have time to commit the crime?

Could it be a misunderstanding?

"I told you, I don't know."

"Alaric Newlywed, look at me. Have I ever lied to you in these six years?"

His pupils contracted. A flicker of doubt.

"Elara's phone signal vanished at the coffee shop you visited," he looked up at me, his eyes like poisoned knives.

My entire body went cold. A trap. Someone had set a trap.

"It wasn't me, I didn't" My voice began to tremble.

"Enough!" He suddenly stood up, pulling out a folding knife. Alaric held my hand, the blade pressed against my wrist.

"Rowan Archer." His voice was terrifyingly low. "I know you hate Elara, hate her for taking me. Though I was never truly yours. But you cannot touch her."

"I'm asking you one last time! Where is Elara?!"

The blade dug into the flesh of my wrist, and bright red blood instantly welled up. The excruciating pain shot through my limbs. My vision blurred, and I almost blacked out. The comments were frantic:

The secondary lead has gone completely mad.

I'm starting to pity the villainess she really looks like she doesn't know.

Villainess, say something! Even if it's a lie!

I opened my mouth, a broken gasp escaping my throat: "I didn't"