Every time Liam slept with his assistant, I’d scrawl a number in his diary. He’d ask what it meant, and I’d play it off with a sarcastic smile: “Each mark is a time you broke my heart. When it reaches a hundred, I’ll disappear.” Even when it reached ninety-nine, he didn’t take me seriously. At a hundred, I heard the rhythmic gasps echoing from his CEO office. “Sarah, let’s have a baby, okay?” My hand, poised to knock, fell uselessly to my side, the words crushing me. Back home, I ripped down all our wedding photos, a storm of resentment raging inside me. I grabbed a pen and angrily scrawled in the diary: “Liam, we’re over!” Suddenly, a line of text appeared beneath it: “Who are you? Why are you messing with my diary?” “And what does ‘100’ even mean?” Emotionally charged, I forgot all fear and replied: I’m Chloe. And it’s because you don’t love her. “This ‘100’ represents a hundred times I’ve been disappointed by you. I’m leaving you.” The words on the diary page jumped out, one by one. “You’re Chloe? You’re leaving me?” “No way! How could you be Chloe? She’s standing right next to me now!” “Who are you, really? Why can you appear in my diary?” Three questions popped up one after another, startling me so much I dropped the diary. It took me a full two minutes to calm down. I picked it up, then wrote back: “I am Chloe, a thirty-year-old Chloe.” “And I know you’re seventeen-year-old Liam.” “The future you will betray me. So, seventeen-year-old you, don’t come near me either.” The diary went silent. This magical notebook was something I’d found in the attic a few days ago, while packing my bags. My thirty-year-old husband had been drunk, yelling Sarah’s name for the thousandth time, spewing regrets about marrying me. He claimed if he’d married Sarah back then, he might have had his own child. When I opened the diary, though, I saw pages filled with seventeen-year-old Liam’s affection and unwavering devotion to me. Growing up, thanks to my looks, I always had plenty of guys chasing me. But my parents divorced early, so I never held out hope for love. I’d reject every guy who confessed, “Sorry, I just want to focus on my studies. I’m not interested in dating.” Until I met Liam. Unlike the others, he pursued me relentlessly from middle school all the way through college. Each time I rejected him, he only grew more determined. He even entered dangerous underground car races just to win me a limited-edition watch I liked. Seeing him nearly lose his life was what finally made my heart stir. And when I realized this notebook updated in real-time, I knew it was communicating with thirteen years ago. But then I remembered: two months ago, when I went to see him, I heard the sounds of him and his new assistant getting intimate on the couch in his CEO office. And that assistant was Sarah, our high school classmate, his former next-door neighbor, and childhood friend. In that moment, all our beautiful memories shattered, reduced to cruel reality, a mere illusion. From then on, I stopped communicating with the teenage boy on the other end of the diary. Because I knew, no matter how passionate the love recorded in that diary, it would ultimately lead to betrayal. Just as I was bitterly printing out the divorce papers I’d already prepared, signing my name with a steady hand, ready to follow through on my earlier promise—that if he betrayed me, I’d disappear from his world forever. A harsh tearing sound ripped across the diary page. “No way, I love her!” The pen tip, carrying the boy’s sincere feelings, carved each stroke into the paper, “I’ve liked Chloe for six whole years, how could I betray her?” “You’re lying to me, you can’t be Chloe! Who are you?” “Tell me, are you Sarah?!” Through the diary, I could almost see seventeen-year-old Liam, his face a mix of anger and stubbornness, uttering vows he would inevitably break. Back then, his love was pure and firm. He couldn’t possibly have imagined that thirty-year-old him would become so cruel and heartless. I picked up the pen to reply, but the front door suddenly swung open. The gust of wind flipped the diary page. I calmly closed the diary. Thirty-year-old Liam walked in and started rummaging through cabinets. He used to excitedly leap into my arms every time he came home, nuzzling me like a big, happy puppy. Sometimes I’d push him away, tickled, but he’d only press closer, his bright eyes whispering sweet nothings that made my cheeks flush. Now, his gaze didn’t even linger on me for half a second. After nearly ten minutes of searching, Liam still hadn’t found what he wanted. He finally turned to me, his face filled with irritation. “Chloe, have you seen the heirloom brooch my mom left me?” “Sarah’s pregnant, I need to find the brooch and give it to her. I want it to bless our family of three.” Family of three?! My heart gave a sudden, painful lurch. On our wedding day, he’d personally placed that heirloom brooch into my hand in front of all our guests, asking me to keep it safe. Liam’s brother, Owen, had been clearly displeased. “Brother, Mom’s brooch is meant to be passed down to the mother of your child. Everyone knows Chloe can’t… why would you give it to her?” Thirteen years ago, an accident had left me injured, permanently unable to have children. No one had ever dared to mention it in front of Liam, but on our wedding day, his own brother had pointed it out in public. The atmosphere instantly became excruciatingly awkward. Everyone’s gaze was fixed on me, whispers erupting. I turned my face away in shame, but Liam only held my arm tighter, giving his brother a cold glare before announcing to everyone: “Even if Chloe can’t have children, only she deserves to keep this brooch. She is my only wife, Liam’s wife.” In that moment, I’d thought I’d made the right gamble. For five years of marriage, I had carefully guarded it. But now, I gave a bitter laugh, pulling out the drawer and retrieving the velvet jewelry box. Liam snatched it from me, a wide, delighted grin spreading across his face: “Found it at last! After the baby’s born, I’ll have Sarah put it on them herself.” Only then did he bother to look at me, his eyes filled with undisguised coldness. “My mom said this heirloom only works if the mother of the child puts it on them. Now that Sarah’s carrying my child, the brooch should be with her.” “I’m taking Sarah for a check-up tonight, so I’m heading out. Our anniversary… we can talk about it when I get back.” At the door, he paused, a hint of condescension in his gaze as he glanced at me. “Don’t worry, even if Sarah and I have a child, you’ll legally always be my wife. That won’t change.” His usual game: a slap, then a sugar cube. It had been his go-to move for years. Watching him leave happily, I managed a bitter smile. He called me his wife, yet let another woman carry his child. I opened the diary again. Another line of text had appeared: “Because I waited for your reply, I wasted time and couldn’t get the spot in front of her.” I immediately grabbed our graduation photo. My blood ran cold when I saw it: 17-year-old Liam’s position had shifted. My breath hitched, and my hands started to tremble uncontrollably. Could the Liam on the other end of this diary actually change the future?
Before I could even process it, another line of text quickly appeared in the diary: “If you really are Chloe, then tell me, where did I stand in the graduation photo?” I instantly replied: “You stood to Sarah’s left front.” The diary went silent again. After waiting a minute with no reply, I picked up the pen and, with forceful strokes, wrote: “Liam, please leave my life.” “Why? If you’re really Chloe, don’t you know I like you?” He pressed so hard on that last question mark, the paper almost tore. “Like? Because of your ‘like,’ the day after the graduation photo, I was attacked by people Sarah sent and permanently lost my ability to have children!!” “And thirty-year-old you let her carry your child.” Every word I wrote brought the memories flooding back, clearer than ever. I had tried everything to forget, but countless nights, that agonizing memory would jar me awake, making sleep impossible. It had become my inescapable nightmare. Thirteen years ago, Sarah had begged Liam to stand by her for the photo, but he’d refused. Liam had stood firmly behind me, saying he’d stand with me not just then, but for our wedding photos in the future too. His burning declaration of love had made my ears flush. But a furious Sarah had found a dozen people the next day to ambush me in an alley. Liam, rushing to the scene, had gone pale with terror when he saw my injuries. He’d carried me, who was heavier than him, stumbling frantically towards the hospital like a madman. He’d given a lot of blood to save me. Although I survived, I was severely injured, permanently losing the chance to become a mother. Liam had cried, holding me, tears streaming down his face. He’d sworn a solemn oath that he would marry no one but me, and never let me suffer another ounce of harm. But I never imagined that now, he would cheat on me with Sarah, the very person who had caused me so much harm, and even let her carry his child. “Liam, promise me, if you love me, just leave my life.” “The further away the better! Can you?” “Please, I’m begging you!” Still no reply. I slumped onto the couch with the diary, drifting off to sleep without realizing it. In my dream, I saw seventeen-year-old Liam, running desperately through a dark alley. His face was panicked and anxious. A gust of wind blew a flower pot off the balcony, startling me awake. The night was already deep. Thirty-year-old Liam hadn’t come home all night, not a single call, not even a text. But Sarah’s Ins stories were updated every ten minutes, a full thirty posts. The first one showed Liam pinning the heirloom brooch to her lapel. The second was Liam and her looking through baby name books together. The third showed him pressing his ear to her belly, a look of pure joy on his face as he listened to the baby move. … Each post was flooded with likes and blessings from their friends. “Congrats, Mr. Miller! Finally going to be a dad!” “I told you Mr. Miller wouldn’t stick with Chloe. You guys didn’t believe me.” “How could Chloe be worthy of Mr. Miller? Sarah and Mr. Miller are the perfect match, made for each other.” Liam had liked every single post. Perhaps, deep down, he truly believed it. I closed Ins, then lay back on the couch, feeling lightheaded and drowsy. In my dream, seventeen-year-old Liam finally emerged from the alley. What met his eyes was me, pinned to the ground by several people, and seventeen-year-old Sarah, lunging at me with a knife. “Chloe!” The next second, Liam’s eyes turned red, and he charged forward like a madman. He grabbed a rock from the roadside with all his might and hurled it at the leader. The others swarmed him, hitting him repeatedly. Liam ignored them, clutching the blood-stained rock, using his last ounce of strength to beat back the leader. He screamed at the others, his face contorted in a snarl. “Come on, if you’re not afraid to die!” His reckless fury stunned them, and they fled in disarray. Only when their figures completely vanished from the alley did Liam collapse in front of me, trembling uncontrollably. When our eyes met, he smiled proudly, “Chloe, I told you I’d risk my life for you. Now you believe me, right?” “Liam! I don’t need you!” “Leave me!” I screamed his name, jolting awake, tears streaming down my face. Looking in the mirror, I saw the bulging veins and goosebumps on my skin. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or cold. I looked down at the diary in my arms, my mind a blur, unable to distinguish between dream and memory. Pulling up my shirt, my body suddenly froze. I frantically touched my lower abdomen.
The scar that had been with me for thirteen years was gone. Tears welled up and spilled over. I opened the diary again. Another line of text had appeared, but this time it was shaky and uneven, as if written by someone weak and exhausted. “Chloe, I protected you.” Once my emotions stabilized, I calmly wrote back: “That’s what you were supposed to do.” If not for his love. If not for the love he would inevitably betray. Why would Sarah have targeted me, causing me to lose the ability to bear life as a woman? And thirty-year-old him, now with a child by the very person who harmed me, had wounded me again. The words on the diary appeared haltingly, the strokes unclear, as if writing was a struggle. “Chloe, I’ll do anything for you. Tell me, what else can I do?” Only after seventeen-year-old Liam finished writing the last question mark did I reply: “I already told you, leave my life.” “Disappear completely from my sight. Don’t let your love now become the weapon that harms me in the future.” There was a time when everyone secretly talked about me, but Liam was there, holding my hand firmly, gently mending my broken heart. It was his love that made me fearless against all gossip and strange looks. So when he let go of my hand, and even joined those who criticized me, I was instantly pushed to the brink, even contemplating ending my life. Being hurt by the one you love, it turned out, was a thousand, ten thousand times more painful than any physical disability. You could say, the more he loved me before, the greater the pain he inflicted later. This heart of mine, already shattered by him, refused to beat again. The sound of forceful writing suddenly came through. Each word was pressed so hard, it almost tore through the page. “That’s impossible!” “Chloe, do you know? Every break time, you loved to draw by the window on the third floor of the art building. I’d deliberately take the long way around every day, just to catch a glimpse of you. Just seeing you made me so happy.” “Once, you hurt your hand while drawing. When I heard, I was frantic. I skipped class for the first time to buy you medicine, just so you wouldn’t hurt for one second longer…” “And also…” I cut him off, “I know, I know all of it.” “And another time… I slipped in the bathroom and twisted my ankle. It was you who, blushing, slipped the medicine under the door.” The diary paused for ten seconds before replying: “You know all that? How could you know?” “If you know all that, then why do you say I’ll betray you?” There was one thing he didn’t write, but I knew for sure: he was murmuring to himself, I love you so much, how could I betray you? I could imagine seventeen-year-old Liam’s face now, filled with shock and confusion. “I know these things because the future you told me. You told me everything, piece by piece, and said you regretted doing them.” Liam had said that he should have listened back then, not married a woman who couldn’t give him a “complete family.” He said it led to him suffering years of criticism for nothing. He’d also said he shouldn’t have bothered saving me back then, implying that now I was not only ungrateful but also demanding too much. He always boasted about his “sacrifices,” then did whatever he pleased in our marriage, until now, having a child with someone else. Tears dripped onto the diary, blurring the writing. Fearing I might ruin the diary and prevent changing the past, I hurriedly wiped it away. But I pressed too hard, tearing the page in half. In my panic, I suddenly found myself in a hospital room. In front of me, a seventeen-year-old boy, his abdomen wrapped in thick bandages. His face was pale, his brows furrowed in pain. Seventeen-year-old Liam, one hand clutching the blood-stained bandage, the other struggling to write, was muttering to himself. “Chloe, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you until I make you my wife…” His serious and determined expression made him look like he was undertaking something profoundly important. Just as he finished writing that, the seventeen-year-old Liam seemed to sense something. His hand suddenly stopped. He looked up, and in that instant, his clear, star-like eyes, which had long vanished from my memory, reappeared before me. His slightly dry lips parted. Before he could speak, a shrill phone ring suddenly cut through the air. Looking around, my home was a mess. All thanks to thirty-year-old Liam. The phone ring was piercing. It was thirty-year-old Liam calling, his voice commanding: “Come to the coffee shop downstairs from the office immediately. Sarah and I have something important to tell you in person.” At the same time, several lines of text appeared in the diary. “Please believe me, okay? I would never do that.” “I love you, love you so much that even if you wanted my life, you could have it.” The boy’s adoration was as pure and flawless as fresh snow. He truly believed his vows would become the most beautiful flowers, never to wither as long as he stayed by his beloved’s side. I gripped the pen tightly, my eyes downcast. Fine. If you don’t believe me, then I’ll let thirty-year-old you tell you yourself.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “328129”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy #现实主义Realistic #校园School #重生Reborn #惊悚Thriller
Leave a Reply