I dragged Lyra Linwood from the twisted wreck of the car, putting everything I had into pulling her free. The flames behind us shot thick, choking smoke into the air as I carried her, stumbling to the side of the road where I set her down under the old sycamore tree. Blood was soaking through my clothes and pooling around me, a slick, snaking trail stretching farther and farther from my body. The screams around us grew faint as my strength waned. I reached up, touching Lyra’s face, and asked, “After twenty years, did you ever love me?” Pressing her hands against my wounds, Lyra’s face remained cool, her tone sharp as ever. “Don’t talk. The ambulance is on its way.” I forced a weak smile. Such a shame. I was going to die without hearing her say, “I love you.” Everything went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I couldn’t believe it—I’d gone back twenty years. Given another chance. If fate would let me choose again, then I’d choose to stay far, far away from Lyra Linwood. But there she was, standing on the rooftop with her arms spread wide, looking out over the city we’d lived in for two decades. Her hair flowed in the wind, her smile as bright as the colors of sunset. “Reece Dawson,” she called out to me. “Do you want to know what it feels like to watch the one you love die in your arms?” Content
I jolted awake, finding myself at my desk, my fingers lightly touching the keyboard. It wasn’t a dream. I’d been given a second chance. Maybe my last life’s bitter death was pitiful enough that fate decided to throw me a bone. Great. I’d take it. Lyra Linwood—she’d be nothing more than a memory. I’d leave her so far behind, she’d never see me again. I opened my computer, ready to write a resignation letter. But I hesitated. It had only been two years since I started this job, and things were tight at home. Dad was taking on every odd job he could to pay off debts, and Mom’s health meant she was always on medication. Leaving now would only make things worse. Lost in thought, I jumped when someone clapped a hand on my shoulder. It was a coworker, who asked dully, “What are you getting the boss for her birthday tonight?” My heart dropped. I grabbed my phone, checked the date, and went cold. It was today—today was the day that set the whole mess in motion. Tonight’s gathering was where I’d gotten entangled with Lyra, dragging myself into two decades of misery. Lyra’s father, a major shareholder at Linwood Corporation, had her take on a CEO role at the Regional Office right after she graduated. Young, gorgeous, and rich, she had everyone in the company worked up. I hadn’t been any different. But she hardly ever showed up, and when she did, her cold expression kept everyone at a distance. It just happened that this was her birthday, and for once, she’d invited everyone to celebrate. A party was one thing, but somehow, a “genius” coworker had spotted her at the airport with Aiden Brooks, her childhood friend. By the time they got back, they were spreading the story that Lyra had invited us because she’d just broken up with him. They said she was lonely and didn’t want to be alone for her birthday. The thought had struck me back then: those who seem cold on the outside must need warmth the most. So, I bought her a childish stuffed bear. And just like that, I won her “love.” I felt like a lottery winner who’d hit the jackpot out of nowhere. Every morning, I woke up, half-convinced I was dreaming, shocked that Lyra Linwood was my girlfriend. That disbelief blinded me to how she really treated me. All the way through our wedding, I was convinced that marrying her was some divine reward. But after twenty years, I finally understood: being married to someone who doesn’t love you is a cage of agony. I never saw her smile, never felt her warmth. Everything was cold, no matter how hard I tried. Loving her felt like talking to a mirror—nothing but my own reflection staring back. That’s why, as I lay dying, I had to ask her if she’d ever loved me. And I still never heard an answer. I took a long breath, cleared my thoughts, and held back the tears. Sorry, Lyra Linwood. This time, I’m leaving you. The grand ballroom gleamed, and Lyra sat at the center, as striking as a star in the night sky. Just one look, and my heart twisted, so I turned away, clapping along with my coworkers. We waited as she blew out the candles, each of us ready to present our gifts. Lyra thanked everyone in turn, a polite smile on her face—one that probably took her considerable effort, considering her usual icy demeanor. When it was my turn, I handed her a small box. No stuffed bear this time. Just a cheap bracelet I’d picked up off a street vendor for three bucks, complete with a freebie. She wouldn’t like it, I thought. But in front of everyone, Lyra put the other gifts aside, picked up mine, and opened it. She looked down at the bracelet, stunned. I thought she’d toss it aside, but instead, she slipped it on and looked up at me with a smile—a real one. One I’d never seen in twenty years. “Thank you. I love it.”
I was sure I’d misheard her. Lyra had always lived in luxury, with cabinets full of jade and porcelain. Nothing I could afford would ever impress her. Last time around, when I could finally afford high-end bags and jewelry, she’d taken one look and tossed them aside. Luxuries like that were “intelligence tax”—nothing worth her time. She had to know this bracelet was glass. Yet here she was, smiling at me. And for a moment, I felt like I’d been transported to a different world, one where she wasn’t the Lyra Linwood I’d known. Trying to shrug it off, I replied, “No problem,” and quickly walked away. I didn’t care which version of Lyra Linwood she was. I wasn’t betting my future on her loving me. Those twenty years were a prison of silent agony, the kind that chokes you until you’re numb with pain. Just thinking about it scared me. The party ended without incident, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Yet beneath it, there was an odd sense of disappointment. As if, somehow, she’d forgotten me. The next day, I dragged myself to the office. Most people were off on summer vacation. If I wasn’t short on cash, I wouldn’t be there either. I walked in to find everyone working away like their lives depended on it, a sharp contrast from the zombie-like scene just days before. Confused, I soon realized why. Lyra had come to the office. While everyone else scrambled to put on a show, I decided to keep my head down and follow along. Then Lyra walked straight over to my desk, tapped her finger on it, and said, “Reece, follow me.” My mind reeled. She was the CEO; I was a lowly employee. What did she want with me? But I followed her, too stunned to think. She led me into a remodeled office next to hers, complete with sleek mahogany furniture, a plush sofa, even flowers and a fish tank. The whole place smelled faintly of sycamore blossoms. She looked around and then pointed. “From now on, you’re my personal assistant. You’ll work here.” I was stunned. Lyra was the classic rich girl, but she was always professional. Last time, I’d earned my way up to manager on my own merit. She’d never given me special treatment at the company, even while we were dating. But now she was making me her assistant? Meaning I’d see her every day? I didn’t want to relive that nightmare, so I replied coldly, “Sorry, Ms. Linwood. I’m not qualified for this role. If that’s all, I’ll get back to my work.” She didn’t even hesitate. “Salary’s tripled.” My steps faltered, my heart betraying me with a quickened beat. Three times my current salary! I barely made six thousand a month now, but with a tripled salary, I could make nearly two grand. Even after taxes, it’d be a good amount. That money would ease Dad’s burden, pay down our debts, cover Mom’s medical costs, and maybe even leave enough to buy her some nice things. I hesitated, recalling those twenty years of silence, the feeling of being locked in a cage. But then I thought of Dad, hunched under the weight of hard labor, his skin sunburned and peeling, while I sat in an air-conditioned office. His back, bent under the load of our family’s struggles, seemed to whisper, “Hang in there.” I clenched my jaw. “Alright.”
I moved my stuff into the new office, one trip at a time. My coworkers were all gawking, probably thinking I’d been fired. When they heard I’d been made Lyra Linwood’s personal assistant, their jaws practically hit the floor. One of the guys who used to sit next to me leaned over, grinning slyly. “Hey, I just saw Ms. Linwood wearing that bracelet you gave her. Now she’s got you working right by her side, huh? Man, you’re on your way up!” I shot him a look. “Yeah, and where’s your girlfriend, big shot?” Inside, though, I was bitterly laughing. Just like before, everyone saw me as some big winner in life. Nobody knew the kind of life I actually lived. It was nothing but a cold face, constant orders, and no room for my opinion. Lyra made all the rules, and I was like her puppet, doing whatever she wanted. Once, I even thought about divorce. But what did Lyra do? She held our child in her arms, her eyes wild as she told me, “Leave, and I’ll end him.” I’d never seen that kind of craziness in her eyes before. I stayed, fearing what she’d do. She was back to her usual ice-cold self in no time, but the message was clear. Years later, when our child grew up and could manage on his own, I planned to leave her. But I never got the chance—there was a massive pileup on the highway, an oil tanker explosion that sent flames into the sky. I’d managed to pull her out but died myself, full of regret. If those coworkers knew half my life had felt like a prison sentence, would they still envy me? After moving my things, I checked to see if Lyra was still around. She was gone, and I felt a wave of relief as I sat down and started organizing files. This time, I had no plans to get tangled up in her life again. All I wanted was to give my parents a break and eventually find a woman who truly loved me. That was going to take money. And if Lyra was willing to pay, I’d play along. Besides, I knew how to keep things professional. But then, she surprised me again. Lyra walked in not long after and didn’t even look my way as she pulled out her makeup kit, touching up her face, taking off her earrings. She went through her entire routine, even taking off her shoes and lying down on the sofa. I stared, dumbfounded. I’d spent twenty years with her and never seen her care for herself this meticulously. Still, as long as she didn’t bother me, I figured I’d just ignore her. I turned back to the computer to start working, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye, lying right there, making it impossible to focus. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Ms. Linwood, it’s work hours. People might talk if they see you sleeping here.” She didn’t even open her eyes. “I bought this sofa specifically for naps. Now stop talking and get back to work.” Her words made me feel that old, suffocating resentment. In my last life, she’d told me to be quiet and follow orders until my dying breath. Was she expecting me to do it again? No way. I shut my laptop, grabbed my bag, and stood to leave. Lyra opened her eyes. “Where are you going?” “To see some clients,” I said coolly. “I still have open accounts to close.” Lyra looked at me for several long moments, then smiled. Twice in two days. I felt like I was seeing things. “You’re my assistant now,” she said. “No more running around. Just stay here. I’ll tell you what to do when I need you.” It was like she knew I hated those words and said them just to rile me up. I told myself to stay calm—losing my temper wouldn’t help. As long as I could hold on, my mom wouldn’t have to tell me she felt like a burden, and my dad could ease up a little. I kept my tone as steady as possible. “Sorry, Ms. Linwood, but the company policy on account responsibility says I have to finish my own work.” I left before she could respond. Out in the summer heat, I felt a rush of freedom. Last time, I’d fallen into her trap and spent two decades shackled to her. I wasn’t sure how I’d survived it. Now, she wanted to rope me in all over again. At least I could separate work and personal life. As long as I didn’t get involved with her outside of the office, I’d be fine. The whole day passed with me working outside, meeting clients, and closing deals. When I finally sneaked back into the office to clock out, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Lyra was right there, out of nowhere, holding an ice cream cone in one hand and a blueberry sundae in the other. “This is for you,” she said. “Looked like you could use it in this heat.” I glanced out the door to see my coworkers craning their necks, grinning like fools, looking ready to start gossiping. Clearly, one of those idiots had told her blueberry was my favorite flavor. I shot them a glare, shut the door, and looked back at Lyra. “Ms. Linwood, I appreciate the gesture, but please don’t do things like this. It’s easy to get the wrong idea. I know you’ve just gone through a breakup with Aiden Brooks and probably need someone to lean on, but I’m just a lowly employee, and you’re the CEO. We don’t have a future together. Whether you believe it or not, I swear on everything—I can promise you, you’re not going to love me in this lifetime.” I put my files away and clocked out on my phone. If I didn’t set things straight now, there’d only be more problems later. I knew that the one she really loved was Aiden; I was nothing more than a stand-in, like the stuffed bear I’d given her in my last life. This time, I wouldn’t throw my life away for someone who didn’t love me. I wanted someone who loved me, someone who had eyes only for me, not a memory. If I’d misjudged things and she wasn’t after anything romantic, then fine—I’d only have embarrassed myself, no big deal. I could always apologize later. Just as I turned to leave, Lyra grabbed my arm, smiling as she said, “Come with me for a minute.” Was she out of her mind? I’d practically laid everything out, and she hadn’t reacted at all. In my last life, she would’ve exploded. Even delaying her orders was enough to send her into an ice-cold rage. But here she was, calm as ever. Puzzled, I followed her to the elevator. She led me up to the rooftop, where the sunset filled the sky with streaks of gold and red. Standing against the glowing horizon, Lyra looked at me and smiled. “I never liked sycamore trees,” she said. “But do you know why I filled your office with sycamore sachets?” “Because the last time I saw you was under the sycamore tree,” she continued, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut. Lyra had also come back to the past. I stared, speechless, as she walked over to the edge of the rooftop, stretching her arms out to the city. The wind caught her hair, her smile as bright as the evening sun. “Reece Dawson, would you like to feel what it’s like to watch the one you love die in your arms?”
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