Chapter 1

I, Emily Carter, died on a rainy day.

I died in Jason Brooks's villa, in front of the man I had loved for ten years.

When the knife went into my stomach, I could actually hear the sound of flesh tearing.

The blood came out fast, warm, flowing down my nightgown and dripping onto the white marble floor, blooming into dark red flowers one after another.

Jason stood three steps away.

He was wearing the gray cashmere sweater I had bought him, a glass of red wine in his hand, his expression as detached as if he were watching a cat accidentally run over by a car.

He wasn't the one who stabbed me.

The one who stabbed me was Sophie Lane, my best friend and my only friend from college. She was the person I had given my whole heart to.

She gripped the handle, tears still on her face, her voice trembling as she said, "Emily, I'm sorry. I didn't want this either, but if you don't die, Jason will never be able to be with me in peace."

I clutched my stomach and fell to my knees in pain.

My knees hit the tiles with a dull thud. I looked up at Jason.

This man, I had loved him since I was sixteen. I chased him for three years and was his girlfriend for seven.

I gave up studying abroad for him, cut ties with my parents for him, aborted two children for him, and turned myself into someone who had nothing left but him.

And he, watching me bleed out, frowned. "The carpet is new," he said. "Don't get blood on it."

*****

Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I laughed with my whole body trembling, the pain ripping through my wound, but I couldn't stop.

I was laughing at myself. I should look at myself. What had I turned into?

Sophie cried harder, threw the knife to the floor, and stumbled back, burying herself in Jason's arms.

Jason wrapped an arm around her and murmured, "Don't be scared. It's okay."

Here I was, dying, and all he cared about was comforting her.

I heard myself ask in a breathless whisper, "Jason, did you ever love me?"

He didn't answer. He stared at me, his eyes dead and cold, like still water. Then he took a slow sip of his wine and said, "Emily, you're too clingy. It's suffocating."

That was all I got.

It wasn't because Sophie was prettier, or because her family was richer, or because of some bullshit about love. It was because I was too clingy.

I gave him everything I had, poured out my soul for him, and in the end, he felt suffocated.

I lay there in a pool of blood, watching them head upstairs, arms around each other.

Sophie glanced back at me, and that look, guilt, fear, but above all, a triumphant relief, got etched in my mind forever.

The door shut.

There was I and the blood, all alone in the living room, as it kept spilling out of me.

I lay there, staring up at the crystal chandelier. I'd picked it out myself. Jason said it was tacky, but I insisted on buying it because it made the whole place feel warm and bright.

At that moment, the light above me was growing fuzzier and farther away, as if there was a veil of mist between me and the world.

I wished I could call my mom.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry, that I never should have cut her off for a man.

I wanted to say, "Mom, your Crispy Beef Taco is the best thing I've ever tasted. I never got a decent hot meal at Jason's place."

I wanted to tell her, "Mom, it hurts so much."

My phone was on the couch, but I couldn't reach it.

All I could do was lie there and watch my blood seep out, little by little.

Before I lost consciousness, I heard something. It was soft, far away, as if it were echoing from another world.

Someone was crying. It wasn't Sophie's crocodile tears. It was a muffled, controlled sobbing, like someone's heart was being torn apart.

I wanted to turn my head and see who it was, but I was too weak to move. Everything went black.

*****

I was jolted awake by a loud, obnoxious ringtone.

It was the same default ringtone as that crappy alarm clock I used back in college. Still half-asleep, I fumbled around and found something plastic. I pulled it closer to take a look. It was a Nokia 5230.

I knew this phone inside out. It was white, the back cover cracked and patched up with clear tape.

The wallpaper was a picture of Sophie and me, both of us making peace signs in the school cafeteria, laughing without a care in the world.

I was stunned.

I'd lost this phone in my sophomore year. How was it here now?

I shot up in bed and glanced down at myself.

I was wearing a pink nightgown, faded from too many washes, with a patch of discoloration at the neckline.

I recognized it instantly. It was the one I'd bought for 10 bucks at a night market back in my freshman year, and I throw it away halfway through sophomore year.

I glanced around the room.

It was a tiny space, maybe 10 square feet. There was a single bed, a folding table, a canvas wardrobe, and a few celebrity posters taped to the walls.

Outside the window was the school basketball court, and I could hear someone dribbling, the steady thump echoing in the background.

Wait, was this really my college dorm?

I glanced down at my hands. Nails were cut super short. There was a little mole on the back, the same one I'd had zapped off with a laser in sophomore year. It was back.

My mind was buzzing, and an absurd thought suddenly hit me.

My hands shook as I picked up the phone and checked the date. It was September 3, 2014, a Wednesday.

It was only the third day since college had started.

I had a new lease on life.