Chapter 2

In my past life, the day I married Nathan was the day Vivian slit her wrists in her hotel room.

Nathan abandoned me at the altar without a second thought and sped straight to her side.

I'd always thought Vivian's death would leave a permanent, festering rift between Nathan and me. Watching him crumble over losing her felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

My own heart ached just as fiercely.

I'd braced myself for him to end things with me right then and there.

But instead, Nathan suddenly pulled me into his arms and murmured against my hair, "Marina, you're all I've got."

After we married, Nathan doted on me obsessively. He took care of every chore at home, never letting me lift a single finger.

No matter how swamped he was with work, he always came home on time for dinner. He only hired male assistants, if only to avoid any hint of gossip or misunderstanding.

All my friends were green with envy, saying I'd landed the perfect husband.

I truly believed I was the luckiest woman alive to have Nathan.

But on our tenth wedding anniversary, he killed me.

He blamed me for tearing him and Vivian apart, then destroyed me—torturing me, breaking me, squeezing every last drop of life from my body.

So when I woke up to a second chance, the only thing I wanted was to run as far from them as possible and live for myself.

Still, despite bracing myself for it, seeing Nathan looking so confident and alive sent a dull, familiar pang through my chest.

He and Vivian were standing by the lobby downstairs.

The way Nathan looked at her held a tenderness that could have melted stone itself.

When he spotted me approaching, his expression flickered, and he shot a nervous glance toward Vivian, as if fearing she'd be upset by my presence.

I stared at Nathan, and a sharp memory came crashing over me.

In my last life, I'd fought with him constantly over Vivian.

Whenever the arguments turned ugly, Nathan would fix me with that cold, disappointed stare. "Vivian and I are just friends. She's unwell—can't you stop being so dramatic and upsetting her? She still needs me! Just stay away from her."

And with that, he'd leave me standing alone and rush off to travel with Vivian without a second glance.

At twenty years old, Nathan wore his heart on his sleeve. He couldn't hide his feelings if he tried.

He was like a hedgehog—lying bare his soft, tender underbelly for Vivian, but only ever showing me his sharp, piercing quills.

I lowered my head and hurried forward, desperate to get away.

But Vivian called out to me, her face twisted with feigned anxiety and fluster. "Ms. Moore, Nathan's only keeping me company. Please don't argue with him because of me.

"Tonight's party is just for close friends—no plus-ones, so please don't read too much into it...

"Nathan, Ms. Moore looks upset. Do something. Go talk to her."

Nathan gave Vivian a lazy, indulgent smile, totally unconcerned. "Marina wouldn't dare be mad at me. She's been really good lately.

"Besides, if I go comfort her, you'll only get upset, and I don't want that."

I froze in place, unable to move a muscle.

Nathan's words sliced through me like shards of glass, piercing straight to my heart.

When he noticed I still hadn't left, Nathan shot me an annoyed scowl.

"Why are you still standing there?" he snapped, his tone sharp with irritation. "Just looking at you irritates me.

"Oh, and one more thing—Vivian's joining the company soon. I'll be driving her to and from work every day. If you've got nothing better to do, stay out of our way. Don't ruin her day."

The next morning, my eyes red and swollen from crying all night, I turned in the project proposal I'd pulled an all-nighter finishing—along with my resignation letter.

After leaving the manager's office, I returned to my desk to pack my belongings.