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Coming back from thirty years in the future, the first thing I decided to do was cut Andrew Collins out of my life entirely. When he threw his graduation party, I pretended to be sick and stayed in bed. When he stayed in the city to study architecture, I chose a university out of state to study ancient book restoration. When he invited me to his family's Christmas dinner, I took Grandma to see the ocean instead. When he was transferred to my city for work, I immediately applied for a transfer to a remote restoration institute far away. I stopped answering his calls, ignored his texts, and kept my distance. In my previous life, I loved Andrew for thirty years, and for thirty years, he treated me like I didn't exist. On the day of the accident, I pushed Andrew out of the way of an oncoming car. The impact shattered my legs, leaving me confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Yet, he had held Melissa Hughes and cried, "I almost never got to see you again." In my last few days, he was busy setting up Melissa's art exhibition. Even my own son asked me, "You broke up Dad and Mrs. Hughes back then. Don't you ever feel bad about it?" I lay alone in the hospital room, waiting for the end. I refused to live through that miserable joke of a life ever again. When Andrew called, I hadn't woken up from the nightmare of my previous life.