When I died, he was holding another woman in his arms. The plan succeeded. I will become the pain he can never forget. “Miss Lewis, here’s your medication. Please take it.” I accepted the white bottle and thanked the pharmacist. With sleeping pills, I could finally get some rest. The plan was ready to begin. I sat in the taxi, staring at the message Chris Jude had just sent me. “I’m attending a gala tonight. Won’t be home.” I knew exactly what kind of gala this was—Wendy Summers’ welcome-back party. Wendy Summers was quite something. She had been with Chris for just one year, yet had him completely wrapped around her finger. I’d stayed by Chris’s side from the age of twenty-one to twenty-seven—six whole years. And still, I couldn’t compete with a single tear from Wendy. I had lived this life once before. In the end, Chris married Wendy, and I died on their wedding day. Mentally broken, I jumped off a building. I got nothing. How could I just accept that? So, I came back—this time to when Chris was nineteen. In the original timeline, I would have met Chris when he was twenty-one. He had just started his business, and I became his right-hand assistant. My family preferred boys, while his was shattered. Two wounded souls, licking each other’s wounds. For six long years, we even discussed marriage. But then, Wendy came back. Not only did she return, but she openly declared her lingering feelings for Chris at the gala. They rekindled their old flame, and my six years of youth became the collateral. Nineteen-year-old Chris was still the rich kid of the Jude family, with the world at his feet, dating the prettiest girl—Wendy Summers. At twenty, his family lost everything. Wendy left the country, and his life took a nosedive. I knew everything, so I entered his world early. I didn’t interfere with his relationship with Wendy; this plan needed an executioner, and this year—the one Chris had cherished most—was it. I watched Chris date Wendy. Watched them hold each other. Watched them kiss. I saw, with painful clarity, all the sweet memories Wendy once told me about. For an entire year, my heart soaked in their syrupy romance until it was drenched and rotting. I waited quietly, biding my time. When Wendy left the country, I entered Chris’s world, armed with genuine love as he fell into despair. How foolish twenty-year-old Chris was—childish and stubborn. Over and over, he rejected me, waiting for Wendy. How does that saying go? “Love is long-lasting when it comes from companionship.” Eventually, Chris accepted me. I stayed by his side during his darkest year. After that, things unfolded as I remembered: He rose from a scrappy entrepreneur to a business tycoon. From rejecting me to almost proposing. And then—this gala. “Miss, we’ve arrived.” The sound of the horn broke my thoughts. I picked up my phone, the screen still displaying my chat with Chris. The last message was from 11:35 AM. “Do you want me to pick you up? Don’t drink too much, I’m worried about you.” Chris hadn’t replied. I stepped out of the car, doing something I had no memory of ever doing. The plan started here. Inside the bar, lights flickered. I spotted Chris immediately, seated with his back to me. He was dressed in a suit, standing out amidst the quirky outfits surrounding him. Wendy Summers was right next to him in a black dress. She didn’t fit in with the crowd either, but at least she matched Chris. The people sitting around them were all familiar—the same crowd Chris used to hang out with back in his rich-kid days. I waited a long time, thinking I wouldn’t see anything. Then, suddenly, laughter erupted from across the room. They were egging them on, loudly. Wendy stood up and kissed Chris on the lips. My hand shook as I raised my phone, zooming in and capturing the moment. I couldn’t see Chris’s expression, but Wendy’s smile was unmistakable. My hand trembled, my heart clenched painfully. So, even in the days I knew nothing about, they had shared an unspeakable connection. Chris seemed to sense something and turned his head. I quickly pulled my hat down and left. He didn’t see me. Back at our place, the emptiness was suffocating. An empty home never felt good. I showered and sat on the couch, counting the minutes on the clock. 1:28 AM. The sound of keys turning in the door. I opened my eyes, still groggy, and rushed into Chris’s arms. He caught me, patting my head. His deep voice sounded in my ear. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes? You’ll catch a cold.” I cupped his face, gently stroking the spot where Wendy’s lips had been, my voice muffled. “Where have you been? You were gone so long, and you didn’t reply to my messages.” He paused but didn’t answer. He simply carried me to the couch and put socks on my feet. I kicked him lightly in protest. “Why won’t you say anything?” He ruffled my hair, as if resigned. “A very important client. I didn’t drink. My phone was off, so I didn’t see your messages.” I looked into his eyes, and I was all I could see there. Chris, you’re lying. I didn’t press him further and, as always, started playfully teasing him again.
The next morning, Chris left for work early. Once he was gone, I crawled out of bed and headed to the study. Among piles of documents and classic novels sat my diary. I pulled it out, flipping through each page, where my thoughts lay bare—from the moment I met Chris until now. During the years Wendy Summers was gone, I received a level of affection I never had in my previous life. Maybe it was because I stood by him during his lowest moments that Chris treated me differently. Even though I knew Wendy still lived in his heart, I sometimes wavered, wondering: Maybe this time will be different? But then I would remember those six years. I remembered how, despite all that time together, Wendy had returned, taken the place meant for me, worn the wedding dress I had picked, and kissed Chris on the day of my death. The thought drove me mad with hatred. Chris had to suffer, just like me—day and night, tormented by despair. Tears fell onto my diary as I traced the photo I had taken that day. Each stroke of my hand carved deeper wounds into my heart. I had thought the pain would be gone by now. “I went to pick up Chris. I saw a girl kiss him. She was happy, but I was devastated.” On a fresh page, I jotted down these few lines. Excitement and restraint warred within me—strange, yet oddly enjoyable. I closed the diary and returned it to its spot. Then I put on light makeup and slipped into a white dress. The reflection in the mirror was serene, gentle—so different from Wendy’s boldness. I smiled at the girl in the mirror, who smiled back at me, her dimples as sweet as honey. Chris had complimented me long ago, saying I looked beautiful when I smiled. But I didn’t like smiling anymore, not after coming back to relive this life. Now, I preferred crying. Falling apart in tears reminded me I was still alive, with real emotions, made of flesh and blood. Crying reminded me of Chris’s coldness and Wendy’s provocation.
After leaving home, I went to Chris’s office. The employees all knew who I was, but they avoided eye contact, which gave me a clue. And I was right. Through the glass window of his office, I saw Chris and Wendy sitting at the same table, sharing a meal. Wendy picked up a piece of carrot, about to feed it to Chris. He frowned but still ate it. Chris hated carrots. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. I couldn’t control myself—I pushed open the door and slapped Wendy across the face. “He has a girlfriend! Didn’t you know? How can you be so shameless? Get out!” Wendy’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then tears started falling. Sobbing, she explained, “I… I didn’t know. I don’t understand why you’re hitting me. We’re just friends. You misunderstood, right, Chris?” I turned to look at Chris. He thought for a long time before finally speaking. “Anna, stop making a scene. Wendy’s just an old friend. You hit her without hearing the full story. Apologize to her.” My hand holding the lunchbox began to tremble. Chris, you’re lying again. The tension in the room hung thick as Wendy continued to sob, shattering Chris’s patience. “Anna Lewis, if you hit someone, you need to apologize! Say sorry to Wendy!” Chris frowned, tapping the table impatiently. I had rarely seen him this upset. Suddenly, I was reminded of Chris at twenty—how I had gone out of my way to please him, and how stubborn he’d been, telling me over and over, “Anna, I’ll never love you. You should give up.” It was exactly the same now—all because of Wendy. Memories rushed up, filling my eyes with tears that I tried to hold back. With my throat tight, I forced the words out. “I’m sorry.” Chris’s expression softened, and he smiled. “Anna, come sit and eat with us.” Wendy chimed in, her voice bright and proud. “Yeah, Anna, join us! I got this food especially for Chris from a famous restaurant!” She looked at me, unable to hide the challenge in her eyes. I stayed calm, not causing a scene again. Chris seemed delighted. I placed the lunchbox on the table, and Chris suddenly froze, as if remembering something. I knew what was on his mind. Every day, I brought him lunch—it was our routine. But today, he had eaten Wendy’s meal. Suppressing the tremor in my voice, I smiled and said, “I brought you lunch, but since you’ve already eaten, I’ll head home.” Chris opened his mouth but only managed a single word. “Okay.” I turned and left, determined. Out of Chris’s sight, the tears finally rolled down my cheeks. The office staff exchanged uneasy glances as I forced myself to smile and leave. Still, I could hear their whispers. “What’s going on? How can the CEO’s girlfriend lose to the other woman?” “Shh, don’t talk nonsense. I went to school with the CEO. That woman in his office is his ex. They used to be inseparable—a love story for the ages.” “Really? So, who will he end up with?” “No idea, but the girlfriend sure is pitiful.” Yeah, pitiful. I laughed bitterly to myself and left Chris’s office.
The sunlight was blinding, so I shielded my eyes with my hand. “Hey, would you like to check this out?” Lowering my hand, I saw a mascot—a large, clumsy teddy bear—approaching me. It looked a little ridiculous. I took the flyer from him. It was for a nearby café. “Sure, I’ll check it out. Thanks.” My mind drifted back to the days I spent handing out flyers with Chris. The streets back then were scorching—like a furnace. I had suffered through those days with him. I smiled at the mascot and was about to leave when his cheerful voice called out again. “Hey, you’ve got a beautiful smile.” I froze, that same sentence ringing in my ears. Anna, you look so beautiful when you smile. “Really?” I asked without thinking. The rough fabric of the mascot costume brushed my cheek as the teddy bear patted me gently. “If you don’t cry, it’s even better.” “Don’t cry, okay?” I touched my face, feeling the wetness on my fingers. Was I crying again? I shouldn’t be. After a moment, I let a smile break across my face. I hugged the mascot, and he didn’t pull away. “Thank you.” I must be going crazy. I sat there, watching as he handed out flyers, chatting up passersby. He told me I should head home. I shook my head and refused. He didn’t mind. Instead, he shuffled around in his clumsy mascot suit, blocking the sun for me. So this is what it feels like to have someone care for you. As the sun set, he removed the suit and sat next to me. A bottle of water sat beside him—something he had run out to buy for me. The weather had been too hot, and his hair stuck damply to his forehead. I handed him a tissue. He took it, wiping the sweat from his face before pushing his hair back. So bright, so good-looking. So different from Chris’s steady appearance. I stared at him absentmindedly until he waved his hand in front of my face, laughing. “Hey, did I stun you with how good I look?” His playful antics made me laugh. I pushed his hand away and stood up. “Stop being so full of yourself.” “I’m heading home. You should go home early too.” The ride-share honked impatiently. I waved goodbye and got in the car. Through the window, I watched as he stood there, holding the mascot suit in his arms, smiling and waving back at me, the sunset behind him. I never told him that his smile was just as beautiful. Years ago, I was the one wearing the mascot suit, shielding Chris from the heat. The inside had been suffocating, like an oven. Chris’s impatient tone and spoiled attitude still lingered vividly in my memory. What was I thinking back then? I was thinking that I wished someone would shield me from the sun. Why am I thinking about Chris again? I touched my eyes once more—dry this time. No more tears. Back home, the emptiness remained. Somehow, Wendy Summers had added me on WeChat. I accepted, but she didn’t message me. I knew what she was planning. Sure enough, she posted a playful caption and a photo on her feed. “Dinner with my favorite person! Even the lemonade tastes sweet!” The picture showed two glasses of lemonade and a lavish meal. And, of course, a man’s hand—it could only be Chris. Smart as ever, he had even taken off the watch I gave him. Once again, I opened my diary and wrote. “Today, Chris forgot I would bring him lunch. He ate with another girl. That girl even fed him the carrots he doesn’t like. I was furious and slapped her. Chris sided with her and made me apologize. I’m so sad.” After that day, Chris rarely came home. I couldn’t sleep, and even the sleeping pills stopped working. Sometimes, I would fall asleep, only to wake up soon after in the darkness of my dreams. My hair began to fall out in clumps, and my weight dropped steadily. Even though I had planned everything, including my final departure, I still couldn’t find peace. Sometimes, looking at my pale reflection in the mirror, I’d think back to the days before Chris, when I was just as radiant and lively as Wendy. I couldn’t stop myself from breaking down into sobs. I had to speed up the plan—I didn’t know how much longer I could endure.
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