1 After coming back to life, I burned every single photo I had with Grayson. Then, I tore up the love letters Silas had written me over the past three years. In my previous life, I had let myself become an absolute joke caught between these two men. Grayson told me he loved me, yet the moment I gave up my study abroad spot for him, he packed his bags and took Cynthia overseas instead. He left me a single, crumpled note before his flight. It read, “She needs me more than you do.” I spiraled into a deep depression for three months. Silas showed up at my apartment every single day with fresh food. He looked at me with those painfully gentle eyes and said, “I’ve been waiting for you for eight years.” When I finally agreed to be with him, he was the picture of perfection. He came home on time every night and kept a strict distance from any other women. I honestly thought I had finally placed a winning bet. That was until the winter I got into a horrific car crash. I lay comatose in the ICU for seven agonizing days. He never visited. Not once. Instead, I listened to the nurses gossiping over my lifeless body. “The girl in Bed 12 is so pitiful. Her husband comes to the hospital every single day, but he never even steps foot in her room.” “I know, right? He walks straight past her door and goes to the next wing to take care of that patient named Cynthia.” It wasn’t until much later that I learned the ugly truth. Grayson took Cynthia abroad to help her dodge massive gambling debts. And every single cent of that escape was funded by Silas. I was never a priority. I was just an NPC in their twisted, toxic love triangle. But this time, things were going to be different. I was going to sell my house, pack my bags, and take my Nana across the ocean. The voices of the nurses echoed from the hallway, pulling me out of my memories. “Bed 12 is breaking my heart. The guy is here every day, but he never looks at her.” “Yeah, he just goes straight to the other ward to see that Cynthia girl.” My body was shattered from the crash, trapped in that ICU bed for seven days. My eyes were glued shut, but my mind was terrifyingly sharp. I heard the nurses call Silas over and over again. He never came. He was busy keeping someone much more important company. The salvation I thought I had found was nothing but a sickening lie. I poured every ounce of my fading willpower into opening my eyes, but my vision faded into the flat green line of a heart monitor. When I opened my eyes again, the morning sun blinded me. I was sitting at my familiar oak desk. The calendar on the wall stared back at me. It was exactly three months before I was supposed to reject my study abroad offer for Grayson. My hands trembled as I picked up my phone and dialed the university’s international exchange office. “Professor, I’m calling to confirm my acceptance for the exchange program in London. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” The relief in the professor’s voice was palpable. “I’m so glad you thought this through, Rachel. It would have been a tragedy to throw an opportunity like this away.” He was right. It would have been a tragedy. Throwing my entire future away for a man was the stupidest thing I had ever done. After hanging up, I immediately called a high-end real estate agent. I listed the sprawling house my parents had left me. I only had two conditions. All cash, and fast. The moment I finished that call, my phone buzzed. It was Grayson. His voice was cold, carrying that familiar undertone of entitlement. “Rachel, Cynthia is having some trouble with her senior design portfolio. You always get top grades. Go over there and help her out.” Cynthia again. Her drama was the constant static in our relationship. In my past life, those words had me pulling three all-nighters, editing her portfolio from rough sketches to a polished masterpiece. When the project won a national award, only her name was on the plaque. Grayson’s excuse back then? “Cynthia has a weak constitution. She needs this award on her resume more than you do.” And I actually bought that garbage. I gripped my phone tightly and let a soft, agreeable tone slip past my lips. “Sure. Have her send me the files.” “Good girl,” Grayson replied. Two words. That was all it took for him to think he had me completely leashed. I stared out the window, remembering the pathetic version of myself from my past life, and felt a wave of absolute disgust. Less than an hour later, a knock echoed through my apartment. Silas stood in the doorway, holding a brown paper bag from my favorite artisanal bakery. He unpacked the warm pastries onto my dining table, his voice dripping with honey. “Eat while it’s hot. I know you’ve been stressed out dealing with Grayson and Cynthia’s mess. Don’t push yourself too hard.” He always played this role perfectly. Whenever Grayson cut me open, Silas was right there with the bandages. Then, right on cue, he casually dropped the bait. “Cynthia’s project is a massive deal, and Grayson is just stuck in a hard place. You know how frail that poor girl is. She just can’t handle the pressure alone.” Look at them. They always had a million ready-made excuses. Cynthia was fragile, so the entire world had to bend to her will. I picked up a warm croissant and flashed him a bright, convincing smile. “I know, Silas. I promise I won’t make things difficult for Grayson.” Silas let out a breath of relief and smiled back. They both thought I was still that same pathetic Rachel, endlessly willing to set myself on fire to keep Grayson warm. The next morning, I packed my laptop and headed to the university library to finalize my visa applications. I was browsing the reference section when I looked up and saw them. Grayson and Cynthia. Cynthia was leaning heavily against Grayson’s chest. Her cheeks were rosy, and she looked about as fragile as a brick wall. She let out a breathy laugh, gazing up at him. “Grayson, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank goodness you’re here.” Grayson looked down at her, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “You’re such a fool sometimes.” He turned around to grab a bottle of water from his bag and froze. He saw me standing at the end of the aisle. His expression hardened instantly, his brows knitting together in sheer annoyance. My presence was ruining his little romantic moment. I didn’t storm over. I didn’t scream or demand answers like the old Rachel would have. I just stood there, offered him a polite, completely hollow smile, and turned back to the bookshelves. I could feel his intense glare burning into my spine. I didn’t care. This nightmare was going to be over very soon. 2 I didn’t type a single word of Cynthia’s senior portfolio. Two days later, Grayson tracked me down in the library. He snatched the textbook right out of my hands and slammed it onto the wooden desk. The loud crack echoed through the silent room. Heads turned from every direction. “Rachel, I told you to help Cynthia, and you’re sitting here reading useless garbage?” I looked up at him calmly. Then I looked at Cynthia, who was standing right behind him, wearing her signature mask of doe-eyed innocence. “I’m doing research for my own coursework,” I replied flatly. “What coursework could possibly be more important than Cynthia graduating?” Grayson demanded, pulling Cynthia forward by the wrist. “She hasn’t slept in days stressing over this design, and you haven’t even lifted a finger to help.” Cynthia gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice trembling just the right amount. “Grayson, please don’t yell at her. I’m sure Rachel is just really busy with her own life. I’ll just figure something else out.” Her little performance only threw gasoline on his fire. “Listen to her!” Grayson pointed an accusing finger at me. “She’s ten times more mature than you are! Rachel, I am telling you this one last time. I want a complete, polished portfolio in my inbox within a week.” I watched them put on their little theatrical duet, feeling nothing but boredom. I nodded slowly. “Understood.” Grayson thought I was backing down. His rigid posture relaxed slightly, and he grabbed Cynthia’s hand, dragging her out of the library. I absorbed all the weird, pitying looks from the students around me. It didn’t matter. This was the last time they would ever look at me like that. A few days later, Grayson’s patience snapped. He called me, his voice booming through the speaker. “Rachel, what the hell are you playing at? The deadline is in less than a week and the shared drive is empty.” I turned on the kitchen faucet, letting the rushing water serve as my background noise. “I’m so sorry. Nana’s health took a bad turn. I’ve been stuck at the hospital taking care of her all week. I just haven’t had the time.” I lied effortlessly. “Cynthia’s graduation is on the line here. Put your family drama on hold and get her work done first.” Listen to the absolute audacity of this man. In his eyes, my grandmother’s life meant less than Cynthia’s homework assignment. “But…” I feigned hesitation. “No buts.” Grayson cut me off sharply. “Rachel, stop throwing these childish tantrums. If Cynthia fails to graduate because of you, we are completely done.” He hung up with a harsh click. I turned off the faucet and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I honestly couldn’t fathom how I had spent my past life wanting to die over a man like him. Thank god I got a second chance. My phone rang again. It was my real estate agent. She had found a buyer willing to pay above asking price, entirely in cash. We could sign the closing papers today. I replied with a simple, “Perfect.” To make my cover story look authentic, I needed to clear out some of my parents’ antique furniture before handing over the keys. The pieces were heavy, solid oak. I couldn’t move them alone. The first person that came to mind was Silas. The reliable, ever-present senior who always had my back. I called him. “Hey Silas, are you free today? I need to get rid of some heavy old furniture at my place, and I could really use some muscle.” The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, his apologetic voice came through. “Rachel, the timing is really bad. I can’t leave right now.” In the background, I distinctly heard the sound of Cynthia coughing delicately. “Cynthia is running a fever, and I need to stay here and take care of her,” Silas explained smoothly. “Can you try to figure it out yourself? Or maybe just hire some movers? I’ll wire you the money for it later.” Cynthia again. I let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Silas. Take good care of her. I’ll handle it.” I hung up the phone and immediately booked a premium moving service online. Why beg for favors when money can solve the problem instantly? A few hours later, I stood outside the local hospital. I clutched my stomach and dialed Silas again, forcing my voice to sound frail and breathless. “Silas, my stomach is killing me. The pain is unbearable. I’m at the downtown ER right now.” Silas didn’t hesitate. “Don’t move. I’m on my way.” I sat on a freezing plastic chair in the chaotic emergency room lobby, watching the crowd blur past me. Thirty minutes later, Silas rushed through the sliding glass doors. He was out of breath, his eyes darting frantically. But he didn’t even scan the waiting area where I was sitting. He sprinted right past me, heading straight for the orthopedic wing down the hall. I stood up slowly and followed him. Outside the orthopedic exam room, Cynthia was sitting in a wheelchair. Her ankle was wrapped in a thick bandage, and tears were streaming down her face. Silas was kneeling on the floor right in front of her, speaking in a sickeningly sweet, coaxing tone. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry. The doctor said it’s just a minor sprain. A few days of rest and you’ll be perfectly fine.” “But it hurts so much,” Cynthia whined, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. Silas frowned in deep concern. He reached out to touch her wrapped ankle, his hands moving with extreme, terrifying gentleness, terrified of causing her even a fraction of pain. His performance right now was a hundred times more genuine than any fake concern he had ever shown me by my hospital bed in my past life. I stood silently in the hallway, watching the scene unfold. So the rumors I had heard in the ICU during my past life had been true all along. It had started years before I ever realized it. My presence finally shifted the air in the hallway. Silas turned his head, and his entire body went completely rigid. “Rachel… what are you doing over here?” Panic flooded his eyes. Cynthia noticed me too. The tears instantly vanished from her eyes, replaced by a subtle, mocking gleam of victory. “I told you, my stomach was killing me. I came to get a prescription.” I pointed casually at the pharmacy bag in my hand. “Are you… are you feeling better?” Silas scrambled to his feet, looking entirely out of his depth. “I’m fine. Just an old flare-up.” “I’ll let you get back to your nursing duties. I’m heading home.” I didn’t give him a single second to stumble through an excuse. I simply turned on my heel and walked away. I knew perfectly well that me walking away without a fight would just convince them that I was still the same jealous, helpless Rachel who would eventually come crawling back. 3 The weather was gorgeous the day I signed the final real estate contracts and secured the cash. I transferred the massive sum into an international bank account, finalized my leave of absence from the university, and secured my student visa. That weekend, a mutual friend hosted a massive party at a private club downtown and invited me. I knew Grayson, Silas, and Cynthia would all be there. To avoid drawing any suspicion before my flight, I agreed to go. Inside the neon-lit private room, the drinks were flowing, and someone brought out a deck of cards for a dare game. After a few rounds, Cynthia shook a deck of custom cards in her hand and giggled. “Let’s play the King’s Game! Whoever draws the King gets to command any two numbers to do whatever they want!” The room erupted in cheers. Grayson and Silas both nodded along, completely indulging her. Naturally, Cynthia pulled the King on the very first round. She stood up, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I command number two and number five to recreate the classic Titanic pose right in the middle of the room!” Everyone immediately scrambled to check their cards. I flipped mine over. It was a two. Across the room, Grayson scowled and tossed his card onto the table. A five. The room instantly exploded into deafening whistles and cheers. “Rachel, this is your moment!” “Grayson, don’t just sit there! Get up and hold her!” The crowd physically pushed me until I was standing awkwardly next to the low glass coffee table in the center of the room. Grayson was shoved toward me, his face twisted in utter reluctance. Silas was sitting on the leather sofa, laughing along. “Come on, Grayson, just get it over with. Rachel, open your arms.” I stiffly raised my arms and closed my eyes, refusing to look at the disgust I knew was written all over Grayson’s face. But the embrace never came. Instead, a massive force slammed into my back. It was Cynthia. She had lunged forward, throwing her arms around my waist from behind, laughing hysterically at Grayson. “Grayson, look! Isn’t this exactly the same thing?” The moment her weight hit me, my heels slipped on the slick floor. I lost my balance completely and tipped backward. With a sickening crash, I slammed into the floor. The back of my head struck the sharp, heavy corner of the glass coffee table. Pain exploded behind my eyes, blinding me with a flash of pure white light. The heavy table tipped. Bottles of liquor, buckets of ice, and sticky mixers crashed down, soaking me in freezing, stinging alcohol. The entire room went dead silent for a fraction of a second. And then, I heard it. A sharp, undisguised scoff from Grayson. He didn’t even look down at me. He just crossed his arms and muttered to the guy next to him, “What a buzzkill.” Silas barely even frowned. “Rachel, why are you always so clumsy? It was just a game.” Not a single person reached out to help me up. Every eye in the room was fixed on Cynthia, who had also fallen to her knees. Her eyes were already brimming with fake, watery tears. Grayson instantly dropped to the floor, pulling her into his chest, his voice dripping with tender concern. “Are you hurt? It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. She just couldn’t keep her balance.” The throbbing in the back of my skull was blinding. I lay on the freezing, sticky floor, completely drenched and looking like absolute trash. Without saying a single word, I pushed myself off the ground, bypassed the crowd, and walked straight out of that suffocating, noisy room. In that moment, I felt nothing but profound relief that the house was sold, the visa was stamped, and my bags were packed. Only three days left. The third day happened to be my birthday. Maybe Silas felt a tiny shred of guilt over the club incident, because he sent me a text that morning. “Happy birthday, Rachel. I booked the best window table at The Apex for seven tonight. Don’t be late.” A few hours later, Grayson’s text came through. “Happy birthday. Cynthia didn’t mean to push you the other night, so drop the attitude. We’re taking you out for dinner tonight to celebrate.” I stared at the two messages, feeling absolutely nothing. I decided to treat it as a final farewell tour. I replied with a simple “Okay” to both of them. As the sun set, I took a cab to the luxury rooftop restaurant. It was the exact same corner table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the glittering skyline of the city. The scene played out exactly like my past life. Back then, I had worn the expensive dress Grayson bought me. We hadn’t even ordered appetizers before Cynthia called in a panic, and both of them sprinted out the door. I had sat at this exact table from seven in the evening until the kitchen closed. They never came back. My calls went to voicemail. My texts were left on read. I endured the pitying looks of the waitstaff and the awkward stares of the other diners, burning with humiliation. It wasn’t until midnight that I saw Cynthia’s social media post. She was wearing a stunning princess gown, holding a massive, custom cake, laughing brightly. Grayson and Silas were standing on either side of her, looking at her like she was the center of their universe. The caption read, “Dragged my two knights in shining armor out for late-night cake! Who says you need a birthday to celebrate?” My birthday meant absolutely nothing compared to her spontaneous cravings. 4 “Rachel? Where did your mind go?” Silas’s voice snapped me back to reality. Grayson and Silas were sitting across from me. The expensive appetizers arrived quickly, but no one spoke. The air was thick and awkward. Silas picked up his wine glass, breaking the silence. “Rachel, I’m sorry about the other night. I’ll take a penalty drink. Happy birthday.” Grayson didn’t scowl at me for once, though his eyes were heavy with complicated emotions. Just as I picked up my fork, Silas’s phone buzzed aggressively on the table. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor shattered. He answered it instantly. “What? How did she just faint? Which hospital?” He hung up, his face pale, and looked at me with panicked guilt. “Rachel, I am so sorry. Cynthia… her blood sugar completely crashed. She fainted in the street and got taken to the ER. I have to go check on her.” Before I could even process the excuse, Grayson was already out of his chair, grabbing his tailored coat. He looked at Silas. “I’m coming with you. One person isn’t enough to handle the doctors and paperwork.” Just like the last lifetime, they threw me away the second Cynthia snapped her fingers. Silas gave me a desperate, pleading look. “Rachel, just eat. We’ll make sure she’s stable and come right back. I promise. We’ll be quick.” They practically ran out of the restaurant. The heavy oak doors of the private dining room clicked shut behind them, cutting off the background music. The world went beautifully silent. I looked at the table full of untouched, Michelin-star food. I didn’t wait a single second. I grabbed my coat, stood up, and waved a waiter over. “Check, please.” Walking out of the restaurant, the sharp night wind hit my face. It was freezing, but my mind had never felt clearer. I pulled out my phone, went to my contacts, and permanently blocked and deleted both Grayson and Silas. I wasn’t waiting around anymore. I flagged down a taxi and headed straight to my empty house. I pushed the front door open. The sprawling living room was completely stripped bare. Besides my suitcases and Nana’s bags sitting by the door, every trace of our existence had been scrubbed clean. I peeled off the expensive dress I was wearing, rolled it up, and shoved it directly into the trash can. Along with that fabric, the very last shred of my attachment to Grayson went straight into the garbage. I walked into Nana’s room. She was already fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady. I gently pulled the thick blanket over her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Nana, this time, I’m taking you far away from this toxic wasteland. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I checked our passports, visas, and flight tickets over and over again, ensuring everything was flawless. When the sky outside began to turn a soft, bruised purple, I gently woke Nana up. “Nana, we’re going on a trip. Somewhere really far away and really beautiful. Sound good?” Nana’s memory wasn’t what it used to be, but she loved me more than anything in the world. She looked at me, her eyes crinkling into a sweet smile, and nodded. “Whatever you say, sweetheart. Wherever my Rachel goes, Nana goes.” The morning sun flooded through the massive glass windows of the airport terminal, wrapping us in golden warmth. I held Nana’s hand tightly as we walked, step by step, toward the international departure gate. Goodbye, Grayson. Goodbye, Silas. And goodbye, Cynthia. I hope the three of you enjoy your miserable little eternity together.
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