Chapter 1

In my previous life, my husband, Henry Lawson, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's when he was sixty-two.

He went from a charming intellectual to an old beggar, scavenging for scraps and eating whatever he could find.

Whenever his illness acted up, he'd hit me and curse at me.

The only thing that could calm him down was showing him a picture of his first love.

So, my daughter, Serena Lawson, brought Grace Carter, Henry's first love, to live with us and told me to look after her.

"Dad only recognizes Grace now. Just do it for him. It'll help him recover faster. They're both old, so they wouldn't be able to do anything anyway," Serena said.

For Henry's sake, I agreed.

I waited on them hand and foot, running around like a maid, taking care of all their needs.

I put up with this for three years, until the doctor finally diagnosed me with terminal liver cancer.

I was tossing and turning in pain in the hospital, but Serena was always too busy with work. She never came to see me, not even once.

On my final day, I made it back home.

I saw my grandson holding a cake, yelling at Grace, "Happy birthday, Grandma!"

Henry sat at the head of the table, his eyes bright and full of love as he gazed at Grace.

He said, "Once Margaret is gone, I'll marry you. She's had me for all these years, so I owe her nothing. From now on, I want to spend the rest of my days making it up to you."

He didn't have Alzheimer's at all. It was all just a big con, and I was nothing but the caretaker in their love story.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Serena threw a grand welcome party for Grace at our home.

*****

There were five lobsters on the lazy Susan, but by the time it spun around to me, they were all gone.

Henry had an unnatural smile on his face as he awkwardly cracked open a lobster for Grace.

Serena was all smiles, eagerly introducing the restaurant's signature dishes and asking Grace if she wanted to try anything else.

From start to finish, no one even glanced at the empty plate in front of me.

No one even bothered to ask what I wanted to eat.

Moments like these, where I was invisible, I'd lived through them in my previous life, too.

I had been married to Henry for 40 years.

He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's at sixty-two.

I poured my heart into taking care of him, but all my efforts just left me battered and bruised from his attacks.

My eyes were bruised, my face was swollen, and the backs of my hands were scratched up.

When Henry's illness hit, the foul things he spewed were like yesterday's slop, so nasty that they made me sick.

One of the main signs of Alzheimer's was losing one's memory.

Put simply, Henry didn't even remember who I was.

Whenever things got bad, the only thing that could save me was showing him a photo of his first love.

How ridiculous.

He forgot about me, but he remembered another woman.

Serena suggested bringing Grace, Henry's first love, into our home, claiming it would help him get better.

So there I was, looking after Henry, who was supposedly sick, while catering to Grace, who was perfectly healthy.

Back then, I wasted away from 132 pounds to just 100.

I mentioned how rough it was for me.

But Serena just pointed at Henry, who was always so quiet around Grace, and snapped back at me, "How come Dad never throws a fit or acts up when he's with Grace? Maybe you just don't care enough."

I endured that kind of life for three whole years, over a thousand endless days and nights.

In the end, all that hardship broke my body down, and I ended up with terminal liver cancer. Nothing could save me.

"Mom, why are you zoning out? Hurry up and bring the food over," Serena called out, snapping me back to reality.

I looked up.

The waiter stood awkwardly beside me with a tray, quickly insisting, "It's okay, I can handle it."

Serena just waved it off, gesturing at me as she told the waiter, "She's sitting near the door so she can bring the dishes over easily. That's always her job.

"Mom, hurry up. The waiter's arms are getting numb holding that tray."

For a moment, everyone turned to look at me.

Their expressions were unbothered. No one felt anything wrong with what Serena had just said.

I remembered how, in my previous life, Grace came to the Lawson residence.

Serena and the other family members didn't just throw a welcome party for her. They even planned a whole family trip, with everything centered around Grace.

I spent the whole night packing everyone's bags.

But right before we were about to get on the train, the tour guide informed us that Serena had only bought tickets for five people, and every activity on the trip was set up for just five.

But there were six of us, and it was too late to buy another ticket.

Everyone gathered to talk it over, and finally, Serena looked at me and said, "Mom, the beach will be rough on your joints. Why don't you just stay home this time?"

They dumped me, along with my suitcase, right at the entrance of the train station, as if I was nothing to them.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

I was always the one they cast aside.