Chapter 3

"Peyton, Vivian added me again."

The next morning, my eighth blind date, Marcus, sent me a voice message.

His tone was flat, no surprise in it.

"This time she didn't say you're mentally ill. She said you have violent tendencies."

I stared at that voice message and didn't reply.

He sent another screenshot.

Vivian: "She had an episode at the family dinner yesterday and almost smashed someone with a wine bottle. She's done this before. Everyone in the family is afraid of her."

Marcus: "How do you have my contact info?"

Vivian: "I'm her cousin. I can't just watch you get deceived."

Marcus: "Are you close with her?"

Vivian: "Of course. I care about her the most."

I turned my phone face-down on the table.

Sandra came out of the kitchen and placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of me.

"Peyton, Harold was harsh last night. Don't take it to heart."

I asked, "Mom, do you believe her?"

She paused.

"Of course I believe you."

"Then why didn't you say anything last night?"

"There were so many people there, and Vivian was crying like that. You insisted on making it a big deal—what good would that do you?"

I looked at that bowl of oatmeal.

"She said I cut my wrists."

"But you do have a scar on your hand."

"That year I was cutting a mango and the knife slipped."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you say so?"

Sandra sat down, her eyes avoiding mine.

"Vivian lost her father when she was little. Linda raised her alone—it wasn't easy. She's been competitive since childhood. She hates losing face most of all."

I laughed. "So it doesn't matter if I lose face?"

"Peyton, don't fixate on this."

The doorbell rang.

Linda came in with Vivian, carrying a bag of fruit.

Vivian's eyes were red and swollen. She'd obviously cried all night.

Linda said as soon as she entered, "Peyton, your cousin insisted on coming first thing to apologize to you. Look how thoughtful she is."

Sandra quickly stood. "Vivian, sit down."

Vivian stood at the door, refusing to come in.

"Peyton, I said some harsh things yesterday."

I didn't move. "Which part?"

She bit her lip. "The... the thing about your wrist."

"When you said I cut my wrists—was that being harsh, or was it slander?"

Linda's face darkened. "How can you talk like that? Your cousin already humbled herself."

Tears were about to fall from Vivian's eyes again.

"Peyton, if you really hate me, I can break up with Ethan."

Linda immediately exploded. "Break up for what? Ethan's got such good prospects—why should she break up because of you?"

Sandra panicked too. "Peyton, say something."

I asked Vivian, "Can you bear to?"

She looked up at me, tears hanging there, but she herself was perfectly steady.

"As long as you're happy, I can bear anything."

After that line, Sandra couldn't take it anymore.

"Peyton, your cousin's already doing this—what more do you want?"

I said, "I want her to tell everyone who was at last night's dinner the truth about those messages she sent, and the truth about how I got this scar."

The room went quiet for two seconds.

Linda sneered. "You're trying to destroy your cousin?"

"Clarifying facts is destroying her?"

"A girl's reputation is so important. She still has to get married."

I looked up. "My reputation isn't important?"

Linda rolled her eyes. "You don't even have a boyfriend."

The words came out so smoothly that even Sandra couldn't follow up.

Vivian said softly, "Peyton, if you really insist on this, I won't stop you. But Ethan's mother already heard about you last night. She added Linda and asked if you hurt people."

I picked up my phone.

Sure enough, the family group chat had several new messages.

Linda had posted a photo of my wrist.

The angle was very close—must have been secretly taken at last night's dinner table.

The caption read: "It's not that our Vivian talks nonsense. Peyton really does need the family to look after her more."

The relatives below all agreed.

"No wonder seven blind dates didn't work out."

"This kind of thing can't be hidden from the man's side."

"Vivian was just being kind."

My fingertips went stiff.

Sandra said quietly, "Linda, how could you post that photo in the group?"

Linda was unconcerned. "I was just reminding the family so nothing happens later."

I looked at Vivian.

She kept her eyes down, her voice as light as a sigh.

"I didn't know my mom posted the photo."

I said, "You didn't know?"

Linda immediately defended her. "It has nothing to do with Vivian. I posted it."

Vivian looked up, a flash of triumph in her eyes.

Her tactics had always been distinctive.

When other people play the victim, they lower themselves.

When she plays the victim, she elevates everyone else into her weapons.

I opened the group chat, about to post the screenshots.

Harold called.

"Peyton, don't make a scene in the group."

"Dad, did you see the photo?"

"I saw it."

"Don't you think it's excessive?"

"Linda was just anxious."

"Anxious to destroy me?"

"Delete whatever you're about to post in the group right now. My colleagues are in that group too. Don't make me lose face with you."

I closed my eyes.

"Dad, I'm already losing face."

He said, "You're a girl. If your reputation gets damaged, it can slowly be repaired. If you ruin your cousin's marriage prospects, Linda will hate you for life."

I asked, "What about you?"

Silence on the other end.

I finished for him. "You will too."

I hung up.

Vivian looked at me and spoke gently. "Peyton, Harold's just afraid you'll be impulsive."

I put down my phone.

"You're not here to apologize. You're here to confirm whether I'll fight back."

She finally stopped crying.

"Peyton, you always think the worst of everyone. No wonder no one dares get close to you."

Linda picked up the bag of fruit and set it heavily on the table.

"We're leaving this here. If you have any conscience left, stop making things hard for Vivian."

Before the door closed, Vivian looked back at me.

Her voice was very soft, but just loud enough for me to hear.

"The eighth one seems pretty nice too. If you really can hold onto him, don't give me a chance to get to know him."