The Muse You Left Behind

After so many years apart, I couldn't muster even a shred of warmth for her. Standing up, I gestured coolly toward the lounge sofa nearby. "Ms. Stone, please have a seat. Did you come all this way for something specific?" Chloe seemed entirely oblivious to the cold distance in my tone. She settled onto the leather couch, speaking with manufactured enthusiasm. "Can't I drop by just to say hi? Yesterday I was near the shopping district and caught sight of someone who looked just like you from behind. I wasn't entirely sure at first, but I thought you might be back in town. I made a few inquiries this morning, and what do you know—it really was you." "Claire, why didn't you let me know you were coming back?" Faced with her saccharine, performative intimacy, I offered only a flat, dismissive response. "The studio just opened. Things are hectic. I've been busy." Chloe surveyed the space, her perfectly sculpted brows knitting together in faux sympathy. "This place is far too cramped, isn't it? There's barely any room to breathe." "I actually own a much larger commercial space right downtown. It's completely vacant—you should move in there. Don't worry about rent or utilities, I'll cover all of it. All you'd have to do is focus on your designs." Seeing me open my mouth to refuse, she immediately lunged forward, catching my hand in an urgent grip. "Please, Claire, I'm begging you. Just think of it as giving me a chance to repay you." "If you hadn't sponsored my education all those years ago, I never would have been in the position to meet Ethan. When your family went through that terrible tragedy, I wasn't able to help, and it’s eaten away at me ever since. I know... I know you probably still resent me for ending up with Ethan. But so many years have passed..." "I really hope you can let it go. Let's give each other a clean slate, a chance to start over." Staring into Chloe’s pleading, expectant eyes, I felt nothing but cold revulsion. I pulled my hand out of her grasp, my tone icy and sharp. "No need. I like this space just fine, and I have no interest in moving." The artificial warmth vanished from Chloe's face for a fraction of a second. Then, as if remembering a trump card, she reached into her designer handbag, pulled out a black Centurion card, and dropped it onto the glass coffee table with a soft "clack". She gently rested her palm over her flat stomach, her lips curling into a radiant, triumphant glow. "Oh, Claire, look at me! I got so caught up in catching up that I almost forgot the real reason I came." "I'm pregnant." "Ethan is hovering like crazy. He insists that none of my old clothes are safe or comfortable enough, and he’s nagging me to get an entire new wardrobe custom-made. Since you're a designer, could you tailor a few full outfits for me from head to toe, based on my measurements? Think of it as me throwing some business your way." I stared at the black card—an authorized user card tied directly to Ethan's account—and a wave of disgust churned in my chest. This time, I wasn't making excuses; I simply stated the cold, hard facts. "Ms. Stone, my design schedule is fully booked for the next three years." "I can't take your order." The room fell dead silent. My repeated, unapologetic rejections finally shattered the veneer of the pampered, worshiped socialite she had spent years becoming. She snatched the black card off the table and shoved it violently back into her purse. When she opened her mouth again, her soft, sweet facade completely disintegrated. "Claire Jenkins, I think you're still living in a fantasy world. You're not the untouchable heiress of the Jenkins family anymore! I came here out of the goodness of my heart, remembering your charity, speaking to you with nothing but respect to repay a debt. And you have the nerve to put on airs with me?" Chloe paused, a vicious, predatory glint flashing in her eyes. "Or is that not it at all? Did you come slithering back into the city just to steal Ethan away from me?" I couldn't fathom how she had managed to drag Ethan back into this. I parted my lips to shut her down, but she cut me off, her voice rising to a shrill shriek. "Don't even think about it! I am carrying his child!" "Years ago, Ethan chose me over you. It was true five years ago, and it will be true for the rest of our lives!" With that, Chloe grabbed her bag, spun around in a blind fury, and stomped toward the exit, nearly colliding with my assistant who was carrying a tray of coffee. My assistant, Zoey, had been with me for years and knew every sordid detail of my past. Watching Chloe storm off, Zoey couldn't help but spit out under her breath, "Stealing her benefactor's childhood sweetheart, and she still walks around with her nose in the air!" "No wonder you never forgave her, Claire!" I watched the shadow disappear around the corridor corner, letting out a weary, bone-deep sigh. "Zoey, you don't understand." "I never hated her because of Ethan." Zoey blinked, looking at me with pure confusion. I didn't offer an explanation. I merely shook my head with a bitter smile, my mind flooded with memories of that shy, trembling girl who had once stood before me years ago. I had asked her back then, "Give me one good reason why I should sponsor you." She had lifted her head, raw courage and fierce determination burning in her eyes. "Because... because I want to get a teaching degree. I want to finish school and go back to teach the other girls stuck in the mountains. I want to show them that our lives can belong to us, that we can survive on our own two feet instead of being married off as teenage brides just to pop out babies!" In that fleeting moment, there had been a genuine, blazing fire in her eyes. The person I despised had never been that poor, desperate girl who swore she would return to the mountains to change the destinies of young women. The person I despised was the hollow, sparkling, morally bankrupt "Mrs. Vance" standing before me today.

I was the one who had given her the name Chloe. The day I brought her back to the city from that remote village, I had smiled and said, "Your father named you 'Brother's Keeper' because all he wanted was a boy. If you carry that name out in the world, cruel people will mock you. How about I give you a brand-new name? A name that lets you hold your head high and start a whole new life. What do you think?" I had taken a fresh sheet of paper and carefully printed out the name: Chloe. "It means blooming, a fresh green shoot full of life. But more than that, I want you to remember where you started, your core purpose. No matter how successful or powerful you become in the future, never forget your original dream—to go back to those mountains and pull other young girls out of the dark." The young girl had stared at those letters, tracing the ink with trembling, calloused fingertips. Her eyes had turned red with unshed tears. "It's... it's so beautiful. From now on, my name is Chloe." "Claire, thank you. Thank you so much." Perhaps because our facial features bore an uncanny resemblance, I genuinely began treating Chloe like my own little sister. Holding that thin piece of paper with her new name, she followed me home to the Jenkins estate. The first time she encountered a flushing toilet, neon streetlights, and towering glass skyscrapers, she was so overwhelmed with excitement that she stayed awake the entire night. To help her integrate and communicate smoothly, I spent hours teaching her standard English, polishing away her thick, uneducated regional drawl. "Don't say 'ain't got no,' say 'I don't have.' Speak clearly, enunciate every syllable." I patiently corrected her, word by word, day by day. It was agonizingly difficult for her, but she possessed a terrifying work ethic, frequently staying up until the early hours of the morning studying under her desk lamp. Later, when she started attending prep school, her heavy accent still leaked out. Her wealthy classmates ridiculed her mercilessly, and she would run home to cry in secret. Seeing her so crushed, I asked Ethan—who had the most polished, articulate diction among our circle—to tutor her. At first, Ethan was thoroughly annoyed by the chore. But he couldn't resist the persistent coaxing and sweet pleading of his young girlfriend, so he eventually caved and agreed. He taught her proper pronunciation, drilled her on speech patterns, and took her to watch classic cinema. Slowly but surely, a bright, confident light began to shine in Chloe's eyes. Her grades shot up from the absolute bottom of the class to the top tier, and her plain, awkward appearance blossomed into refined, delicate beauty. I was completely blind to the subtle shift taking place during those countless study sessions. The look of reverent gratitude in Chloe’s eyes when she looked at Ethan gradually mutated into intoxicating, romantic adoration. And Ethan, on his part, seemed to grow dangerously addicted to having a girl who looked at him with utter, helpless reliance. The illusion shattered the day I wrapped up my overseas design program early, eager to give Ethan a romantic surprise. I unlocked the door to Ethan’s penthouse, only to be greeted by the sight of Chloe wearing my favorite silk pajamas. She was moving around his kitchen, preparing breakfast with the practiced, effortless domesticity of a devoted wife. Ethan was sitting nearby at the breakfast bar reading the morning news, the atmosphere between them so warm, intimate, and domestic that it felt like acid burning into my retinas. The moment they saw me, both of them froze. The spatula in Chloe’s hand clattered violently against the tile floor. She looked at Ethan with wide, terrified, helpless eyes. A flicker of panic flashed across Ethan’s face, but he quickly composed himself, stepping forward with an easy, dismissive explanation. "Claire, don't get the wrong idea. Chloe... she just came over to help me organize some research files. She was just making breakfast while she was here." In that single, agonizing second, I knew. Something between us had rotted straight to the core. The day of our final confrontation, I accidentally stumbled across Chloe’s personal diary tucked away in Ethan's private study. I opened the cover. The earliest entries were filled with her raw insecurities upon arriving in the city, her desperate hunger for an education, and her near-worshipful gratitude toward me. Reading those words felt like catching a glimpse of that pure, bright-eyed girl from the mountains once more. Yet, the further I flipped through the pages, the faster and more violently my heart hammered against my ribs. "November 3rd: I deliberately wore the exact same floral dress as Claire today. Ethan looked at me twice. Does he think I look pretty in it too? Claire and I look so much alike anyway... why can't Ethan fall in love with me instead?" "November 7th: I failed my English exam on purpose today. Ethan promised he would give me private one-on-one tutoring tonight. Claire, please don't blame me. You already have so much in this world..." "November 12th: Ethan kissed me. He told me Claire is too domineering, too independent. He said a gentle girl who depends on him completely, like me, makes him feel truly needed as a man. He promised that once the timing is right, he will break up with Claire!" "November 17th: It worked. Ethan and I slept together."

My mind went completely blank. I couldn't bring myself to read another single word. The entire world felt like it was spinning violently off its axis, a bone-chilling cold seizing every limb. Losing all composure, I stormed into the living room, grabbed Chloe by the arm, and slammed the diary down in front of her. "Chloe Stone! I taught you how to read, I gave you an education, I gave you a future—did I do all of that just so you could seduce my boyfriend?!" Chloe’s face drained of all color, her eyes locking onto the diary in my hand. The timid, subservient girl was gone. In her place was a reckless, desperate woman backed into a corner, ready to burn everything to the ground. "Claire! Yes, you did so much for me! You gave me a second life!" "But does that mean I owe you my entire existence for the rest of my days?!" She whipped around, pointing frantically out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering, multi-million-dollar skyline of the city, screaming at the top of her lungs. "You gave me a name meaning 'new beginnings,' but all you ever did was remind me of the dirt and poverty I came from! You constantly pressured me to go back! But I’ve tasted this life now! Why the hell should I crawl back into a destitute, forgotten wasteland?! I have the right to chase my own happiness too!" I stared at her in utter disbelief, my voice shaking with raw betrayal. "I told you to remember where you came from so you wouldn't lose your humanity! I wanted you to build yourself up so you could reach back down and pull other helpless young girls out of that hell! I didn't give you a future just so you could—" "Pull them out?!" She cut me off with a piercing, hysterical laugh, tears spilling over her cheeks coated in bitter mockery. "You just wanted me to live under the shadow of your charity forever! You wanted me to be permanently inferior to you! Ethan can give me everything I’ve ever dreamed of! He can erase my disgusting, impoverished past once and for all!" Alerted by the screaming, Ethan came rushing into the room. Seeing the vicious fight between us, his immediate, instinctive reaction was to step forward and shield Chloe behind his back. That single motion drove a rusted blade straight through my heart. I choked back the agony in my throat, glaring at him. "Ethan... even now, are you still going to lie to my face?" "Are you really so pathetically desperate that you’d settle for a cheap shadow... a puppet trying to dress and talk like me?!" Ethan took a deep, shuddering breath, finally dropping all pretenses. "Yes! I admit it! In the beginning, I only helped her because her eyes looked so damn much like yours!" "But she isn't overbearing like you! She isn't fiercely independent! Chloe needs me, Claire! She needs me with her whole heart and soul! I was the one who molded her piece by piece—I taught her how to speak, how to carry herself in society, how to be the woman she is today!" "Needs you?" I repeated the words, a low, hollow laugh escaping my lips, utterly choked with absurdity. "So that's what it was. Ethan, you never loved me at all." "You just loved the idea of a weak, helpless 'Claire Jenkins' who needed you to save her." I shifted my dead, unblinking gaze to Chloe, my restrained emotions shattering into absolute disgust. "And you, Chloe Stone. You took the golden ticket I handed you and turned it into a stepping stone to climb into a man's bed." After that catastrophic night, I locked myself inside my apartment, feeling as though the sky had collapsed on top of me. A few days later, I desperately tried to gather the broken pieces of my sanity to rebuild my life, but before I could take a breath, my phone rang. It was my father. "Claire... the company is gone. The business went under. Dad is so, so sorry..." Fate’s cruelty far exceeded anything I could have braced for. The sudden bankruptcy triggered a fatal heart attack in my father; the paramedics couldn't revive him. Overcome with grief, my mother followed him into death shortly after. In the span of days, I became an orphan. Crushed under a mountain of suffocating grief, I was simultaneously hunted down by vicious creditors banging on my doors. I liquidated every asset I owned just to settle debts, ending up so desperately broke that I couldn't even scrape together enough cash to cover the basic funeral costs for my parents. Exhausted in body and soul, pushed to the absolute brink of a breakdown, I swallowed every shred of my pride and dialed Ethan's number, clinging to a final, desperate thread of hope. Each ring of the dial tone felt like a sledgehammer pounding against my skull. Finally, the line clicked open. But the voice on the other end belonged to Chloe. "Hello? Claire?" "Ethan's in the shower right now. If there's something you need, I can pass along a message." My throat constricted, my voice coming out raspy and broken. "I need to talk to him. It's an emergency. My parents... they..." Chloe cut me off, her tone airy, distant, and devoid of the slightest hint of sympathy. "Oh. We heard about your parents. Our condolences." "But Claire, Ethan is incredibly busy right now. We're currently in Europe on vacation trying to clear our heads; it took him so much effort to move past all that ugly drama from before. How about you handle your own problems for once?" "After all, everyone has to learn how to stand on their own two feet eventually. Relying on other people your whole life isn't a sustainable strategy, you know?" Without waiting for another word, she hung up. Not long after the line went dead, a notification popped up on my phone. It was an alert from PayPal—Chloe had transferred an amount just barely enough to cover the bare-bones costs of a cemetery plot and two cheap caskets. Attached was a two-line note: "Claire, it isn't much, but consider this payback for the tuition you sponsored all those years ago." "From this moment on, we are completely even." I stared at the words "completely even." Humiliation burned through my veins like poison, yet the cruel reality of my situation forced me to swallow my dignity and accept the money. I had lost my "sister." I had lost the man I loved. I had lost both of my parents. At twenty-two years old, my entire universe went pitch black. Thank God my aunt living abroad caught wind of the disaster in time. She flew in, helped me tie up the remaining loose ends, and brought me across the ocean to start over from scratch. Five years passed in the blink of an eye. I never intended to return to this city of painful ghosts. But with my wedding to Raymond drawing near, I knew I had to stand before my parents' graves and share the joyous news with them in person. "Knock, knock, knock." A gentle rap on my studio door pulled me from the dark abyss of my memories. It was already dusk outside. Someone knocking at this hour... could Raymond have caught an earlier flight? An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I reached for the door handle, pulling it open as I laughed, "How did you manage to get back so—" The words died instantly in my throat. Standing on the other side was not a windblown, affectionately smiling Raymond Fletcher. It was Ethan Vance. He offered a faint, pathetic ghost of a smile, his eyes hollow and dead. "Claire... I'm divorcing Chloe."