<b>Chapter </b><b>1 </b>
It <b>was </b><bte </b>2044<b>, </b>and I was in my fifties, counting down my final moments.
<b>Breast </b><b>cancer </b>had ravaged my body. My husband, Jared Hob, was desperately trying <b>to </b>save me, rushing to find the best doctors. But I <b>was </b>done fighting. I’d stopped eating for three days, not even taking a sip of water.
We’d been married for thirty years, but I couldn’t stand the thought ofying eyes on him onest time.
In the hospice room, Iy dying, my eyes tightly closed. Suddenly, familiar footsteps grew louder–Jared and our daughter, Yvonne, were approaching my bedside.
The doctor’s voice was <b>heavy</b>. “She’s stopped eating. You don’t have much time left.”
A thick silence filled the room. My remaining consciousness was fading, bit by bit.
Then I heard Yvonne whisper, her voice deliberately low, “Mom’s about to pass. When are you going to marry Tracy?”
Jared paused before responding, “We’ll see. Let’s get the funeral over with first.”
Yvonne sighed, “Mom wasted her entire life. I never understood what she was holding onto. She should’ve divorced years ago. All that stress just ate her alive.”
My heart felt like it was drowning in bitterness. The reason I’d stayed married was so simple–I wanted Yvonne to grow up in an intact family. I didn’t want her to deal with inw drama when she got married someday.
Now, my stubborn persistence felt like one pathetic, cruel joke. Whatever, I was about to leave this world that had torn my heart to shreds. Finally, I’d be free.
“Quiet as she seems, she’s always been stubborn,” Jared muttered, his voice dripping with contempt. “It destroyed everything, including herself.”
What a sharp way to sum up my life.
“Tracy’s had it tough, hanging around without any real status. Finally, she’s gonna get what she deserves,” Yvonne said, sounding relieved.
“Yeah, I owe her big time. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her,” Jared replied, his voiceden with guilt.
Tears streamed down my face, uncontroble. So, my years of sacrifice meant nothing to them. They only cared about the woman who’d wrecked my marriage, like she’d been “suffering silently” all these years.
Just then, I thought I heard a faint bell, like it was ringing far off in the distance. Exhaustion crashed over me, and I was spent and desperate for rest.
All of a sudden, a bright, blinding light sliced through the dark. Dazed, I forced my eyes open.
My mom’s scolding voice drifted in. “Victoria, still sleeping? Yvonne’s gonna be out of school soon.”
I shot to my feet and spun around. There, standing by the floor–to–ceiling window, was my mom–who’d been gone for years–gathering up the curtains. Outside, the sun zed bright, and the garden was lush with green.
“<b>Still </b>half<b>–</b>asleep? Time to pick up Yvonne.” Mom walked over, yfully tapping my arm. “Were you upte reading romance novels again? I’ve told you not to mess up your sleep. I’m still waiting for you and Jared to give me another grandkid.”
<b>1/3 </b>
Chapter
“Mom… The brightness faded, and there she was. <b>I </b>grabbed her hand, <b>felt </b>its warmth, and clung to <b>it </b>like it <b>was </b>my lifeline. “Is it really you? How’d you get here<b>?</b><b>” </b>
Mom looked startled, pulling back slightly and touching my forehead. “Sweetie, did you have some crazy dream? You said you were bored and asked me <b>to </be <b>stay </b>for a few days. I took the car you sent–here I am.”
Her words clicked into <b>ce </b>like a key turning in a lock. Just after Memorial Day in 2014, Mom had taken some time off, and I’d had the driver bring her from our hometown to Hachester, wanting herpany. I wondered if I…
“Knock it off,” Mom said, Mom said, shooing me out of my thought. “Go get Yvonne. Jared’s on his way home for supper, and I need to fire up that salmon before he walks in.” She spun on her heel and ttered downstairs.
I panted, ncing around. This was the vi Jared had bought after we got married. It was 2014, and Yvonne was <b>six</b>, in herst year of kindergarten.
Jared <b>was </b>from Hachester, born into a family with their own business. As the eldest son, he’d been running thepany pretty well–everyone always said I’d hit the jackpot marrying a guy who was this young, handsome, and sessful.
I walked out to the balcony. The sun warmed my skin, and I wondered–had I time–traveled? Did fate take pity on me, seeing how I’d wasted my first life? Was this a do–over, or just another shot at screwing things up?
Not far away, a couple of guys were ying tennis on themunity court, that easy, carefree vibe of being young just pouring off them.
I rested my chin in my hand, watching. After a while, I let out augh. It seemed all those prayers at the churches actually
worked.
I took a deep breath and checked the time—3:40 PM. Normally, as a stay–at–home mom, I’d now be heading out to pick Yvonne up, a 30–minute drive from the vi.
But today, I felt like cking off. Yvonne was my kid, but picking her up wasn’t just my job. I pulled out my phone and called Jared.
His young, crisp voice answered, “What’s up? You on your way to get Yvonne?”
I flopped back onto the couch, feigning a weak tone. “Ugh, my stomach’s been acting up. Can you pick her up instead?”
Jared’s voice tightened. “I’ve got a meeting. Can your mom do it?”
“She’s busy cooking. You know I can’t handle raw fish,” I said casually. I knew him–if I didn’t go, he’d find a way.
“Okay, I’ll send someone,” Jared said and hung up quickly.
I stood up and walked to the closet. The mirror caught me–a young woman in a rxed, flowy dress.
Back then, Jared wasn’t really into me for my personality. He was attracted to my looks, my body–he’d say I was hot, spirited, even a bit wild. Crazy, right? A guy as smart and put–together as Jared could be so superficial.
Jared was basically a gentleman. Ever since we started dating, he’d always been polite–never raised his voice or picked fights.
He worked things out with words, never gave me the cold shoulder, and didn’t have any nasty guy habits. He could always keep his cool and solve problems like they were no big deal.
On our wedding night, he’d had some drinks before he stepped into the room. One look at me in that mermaid gown and his eyes burned with desire. Still, he asked nicely if I was okay with that.
I looked up to him, <b>practically </b>worshipped him, so I just nodded. Even though he hadn’t got all wild like most guys might, that night, I became <b>his </b>woman, <b>just </b>like I’d hoped.
I’d been <b>so </b>hopeful, dreaming <b>of </b>a happy life with him–living together day in and day out, him working, me taking <b>care </b>of
home.
However, dreams and reality never mixed. There was always a line between them.
By our fifth year of marriage, he cheated. Her name was Tracy Darwin–his assistant, his go–to, his right–hand woman. He said she was his main support, the one who had his back when he was up against rivals. He couldn’t live without her.
They’d been together over a year by now. In my previous life, I was still in the dark at this point.
This time, I decided to let him go and finally set myself free. I was gonna live by that line I saw online: [Anyway, he’s the only one paying your bills without wanting your body in return.]