Chapter 1

For ten years, my husband, Henry Maxwell, never stopped blaming me for not being able to have a child.

When our marriage finally hit rock bottom, fate decided to finish us off—we died together in a car crash.

When I opened my eyes again, we were back on the day he first confessed his love to me.

The moment our eyes met, we both understood. Without a word, we deleted each other's numbers and walked away.

This time, he went after the rich girl in our class, using her father's connections to study abroad and become a well-known designer.

I chose to stay here, build a steady life, and find peace in my own way.

Eight years later, at my son's school ceremony, I ran into him again.

Dressed in a sharp suit and wearing that same smug look, he sneered, "Jessica, so you're a stepmom now? Figures. A woman who can't have kids is only fit to raise someone else's."

I didn't respond. I just glanced at the little boy standing beside him—who looked nothing like him—and everything became clear.

He still has no idea—it wasn't me who couldn't have children in our past life.

*****

I ran into Henry again at Ethan's elementary school orientation.

I took the bus with Ethan that morning, holding his little hand as we walked toward the gate.

Before we even reached the entrance, a wave of excited voices rose from the crowd.

"Wow, that car has to be, what, at least two million dollars? That kid basically started life on easy mode."

"His dad even brought him to school himself. You barely see fathers that involved anymore."

"Wait, is that Henry? Henry Maxwell? You're back in the country?"

The moment I heard that name, my body reacted before my mind did. I turned.

Amber Brooks—our old classmate—was already walking up to him with a bright smile.

"I teach here now," she said. "What a coincidence. Is your son starting first grade? Do you remember our classmate Jessica Sullivan?"

Henry frowned a little, clearly uninterested. "Sort of. Rings a bell."

Amber continued, "Her son's also in first grade. Who knows—maybe your kids will end up classmates."

A flicker of disdain passed through Henry's eyes. He let out a quiet, mocking laugh. "Her son? So she's a stepmom now?"

Amber turned and spotted me immediately. "Oh, perfect, Jessica's here too!"

Henry and I locked eyes across the crowd.

I gave him a polite nod. "Long time no see."

He returned the gesture with a cold, distant one.

But the moment his gaze landed on Ethan, his expression cracked. His eyes widened, staring straight at him.

Ethan looks a lot like me—same brows, same eyes, same everything.

After the ceremony, I took Ethan to the cafeteria. I didn't expect to run into Henry again, but there he was, as smug and judgmental as ever.

"Jessica," he said, eyeing me up and down, "this is your son's first day of school. You couldn't be bothered to dress up a little? Kids notice these things. You go around looking like a janitor, he's gonna get self-conscious, you know?"

He clicked his tongue as he inspected Ethan. "Look at your kid. Compared to mine... yeah, not even close."

He walked closer, leaned in, and lowered his voice.

"What really gets me," he whispered, "is that you actually managed to have a kid."

He dragged out the words, savoring them. "So you found a guy who can't even afford a car, someone who makes you take the bus every day? Was the IVF worth it?"

I glanced at Henry, then at the child standing proudly beside him.

In our past life, Henry used to call me useless, saying I was a woman who could never have a child.

But I was the only one who knew the truth that I was never the problem. He was.

When I didn't respond, he snorted, "Honestly, leaving you was the smartest thing I ever did. Without you dragging me down, I'm doing great. Look at you. You basically look homeless."

He grew more arrogant with every word. Then he pulled out his luxury car key fob and waved it in front of my face.

He sneered, "Bet you've never even seen one of these up close. Take a good look. This is the life I was meant to have. Jessica, when you blocked me on WhatsApp back then, you didn't expect I'd end up like this, did you? Regretting it yet?"

In our past life, once Henry and I got married, he threw himself into his dream of becoming a designer. The problem was that he simply wasn't good at it. No one wanted anything he created.

But instead of finding a real job, he insisted on "waiting for his big break". Meanwhile, we were so broke that the cupboards literally echoed. Forget luxury cars—he couldn't even afford a used motorcycle.

When he waved that car key in my face, I just gave him a bland look. "Congratulations," I said. "You finally got what you wanted."

I didn't even bother glancing at the key fob he was showing off.

My family used to keep drawers full of those.

Henry clearly wasn't expecting that reaction. His face went red with anger, and he growled, "You don't regret anything? Not even a little?"

I didn't.

And he was already living the life he'd always wanted, so why was he still so hung up on whether I regretted leaving him?

Before I could answer, a sharp voice cut through the air behind me. "Well, well. Isn't this Jessica?"