Chapter 1

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.

The piercing ringtone rang out, splitting my head and making it feel like it was about to explode.

The agony of being crushed by the car wheels was seared into my bones, leaving me gasping for air.

Instinctively, I answered the call. Andrew's voice on the other end sounded so young. "Charlotte, we're finally done with school. Should I throw a graduation party?"

He said it so offhand, like he always did in my previous life, expecting me to fix his mess without a second thought.

As he kept talking, I stared at the pale blue curtains in front of me, waves of emotion crashing inside me.

This was the room I lived in when I was eighteen.

But wasn't I supposed to be lying in a hospital, waiting to die?

Andrew called out impatiently, "Charlotte, I'm talking to you. Why are you ignoring me again? Are you coming to the party or not?"

I grabbed the calendar from my bedside, crumpling the pages in my hand.

I asked, "What day is it?"

Andrew paused, sounding more annoyed. "June 10th, 2024. Did you sleep through the whole day or something?"

I stared at the bright red numbers on the calendar and gave a short laugh.

Andrew urged me, "Hurry up. Melissa's coming too. Can you book a quiet room? She prefers things to be quiet."

"Andrew, I'm skipping your graduation party. I'm sick."

There was a brief silence on his end. "You're no fun."

Then he hung up.

I lay back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

I gave my arm a hard pinch. The pain was real, no doubt about it. Only then did it finally hit me: God had given me a real shot at starting over.

Though this body was only eighteen, the soul inside was old, tired, and drained of life.

In my previous life, I ended up losing my legs to save Andrew.

But while I was stuck in the hospital bed, he was holding Melissa, saying, "Good thing you're alright."

When I asked him to stay with me for my surgery, he frowned and said, "Charlotte, stop making trouble. Melissa's feeling down today."

When I asked my son to bring me a glass of water, he put it out of my reach.

He said, "You've had Dad all to yourself for his whole life. What more do you want?"

In the end, they were the real family.

I had been nothing but a pathetic joke, wasting thirty years on a man who never wanted me.

The cicadas outside were buzzing in waves. I sat up and blocked Andrew's number.

In my previous life, Andrew threw that graduation party so he could confess his feelings to Melissa.

That day, I brought his parents along to the party, accidentally catching him right in the middle of his grand gesture.

His parents lost it then and there, hauling him back home.

It wasn't until I was on my deathbed that I finally realized Andrew had hated me for his whole life.

He said, "If it weren't for you, Melissa never would've left, and she never would've had to suffer so much."

This time, I wouldn't stand in his way.

Whoever he loved, whoever he ruined his life for, it was none of my business anymore.

All I wanted was to keep my distance from Andrew.

*****

There was a knock at the door.

Grandma called out from outside, "Lottie, Andrew's here. He says he wants to check on you."

I stared at my phone, now silent after I'd blocked him, and suddenly, my smile was gone.

He still showed up.

I threw on my coat and went downstairs. Andrew was waiting in the living room.

At eighteen, he was still a boy in a crisp white shirt, holding a bag of fever medicine. His face didn't have the indifferent expression he would develop over the next thirty years.

But the second I saw him, all I could think about was those white chrysanthemums he forgot on the hospital windowsill.

Grandma poured him a glass of water, grinning. "Andrew, you're such a good boy, rushing over the moment you heard Lottie wasn't feeling well."

Andrew dropped the meds on the coffee table, glanced over at me, and said, "You don't look sick at all."

I said, "I've got a headache."

"Seriously? You're skipping the party because of a headache?" He set his glass down on the table. "Melissa's been asking about you. She said it'll be awkward if you don't come."

I sat down next to Grandma, picked up an orange and started peeling it. "Why should I care if she's awkward?"

Andrew froze for a moment, surprised.

Grandma shot me a look.

Back then, if Andrew asked, I'd drag myself out of bed even if I was burning up with a fever.

I'd write his request for leave, buy his art supplies, bring Melissa her breakfast for him, and smooth things over for him whenever he got himself into trouble.

Andrew frowned. "What's with the attitude today, Charlotte?"

"I'm sick, so I'm cranky," I replied.

"Then help me book a private room, will you?" he said, pulling out his phone. "I tried a few places, but they're all full. Don't you know the owner of that private restaurant?"

I tossed the orange peel into the garbage bin. "Nope, I don't."

Andrew fixed his gaze on me. "Charlotte, don't tell me you're throwing a tantrum because I invited Melissa."