Chapter 1

At eighty years old, Ethan Miller lay on his deathbed, the sterile white of the hospital room a dull backdrop to a life he felt was wasted. Olivia Hayes, his wife of sixty years, sat by his side, her face a mask of calm composure, just as it had been for their entire marriage. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, a rhythm he knew better than his own. He was tired, so tired of a life lived in quiet resentment. If there was another life, if there was a chance to do it all again, he would make sure their paths never crossed. He would not spend another sixty years in a loveless cage.

Olivia stirred, her hand finding his. Her skin was thin and cool. She leaned in close, her breath a faint whisper against his ear. "I'm sorry, Ethan," she murmured, her voice cracking for the first time in his memory. "Tell Daniel... I've always loved him." The name hit him like a physical blow. Daniel. Her colleague from decades ago. All the polite distance, the selfless acts for others, the perfect facade-it all clicked into place. He had been a fool, a placeholder for sixty years. The rage was a hot, useless thing in his dying body. Then, darkness.

Light flooded his vision, a blurry, overwhelming brightness. He was small, helpless, wrapped in a soft blanket. A woman' s face, young and beaming, hovered over him. His mother. It was 1987. He had been reborn. The memories of his eighty-year life were sharp and painful, a brand on his new soul. He opened his mouth, the strange, clumsy muscles of an infant' s tongue forming the first, most important words of this new life.

"Mom," he managed, his voice a reedy squeak. "I won't marry Olivia Hayes."

His mother laughed, a warm, gentle sound. "What a silly thing to say, sweetie. You're just a baby." But Ethan was resolute. The memory of Olivia's confession, of a sixty-year lie, was the foundation of his new existence.

Years passed in a blur of scraped knees and school days. Now, at eighteen, the name he dreaded was a constant presence. His mother would bring her up over dinner. "Olivia is such a wonderful girl, Ethan. Beautiful, a good family, and already on track to be a Major in the Army. You two have been engaged since you were children. What' s not to like?" He would just stare at his plate, the food tasting like ash. The engagement was a relic of their families' close ties, a promise made when they were too young to understand. In his last life, he had accepted it. This time, it was a prison sentence he had to escape.

He saw her one afternoon at the community center. Olivia was there with Daniel Lee. Just like in his past life, Daniel was a kind, handsome man, but with an air of simple naivety. Olivia was laughing, a real, unguarded laugh that he had rarely seen directed at him in sixty years of marriage. She handed Daniel a cold drink, her movements efficient and caring. It was a scene straight from his memories, a confirmation of the life he was so desperate to avoid. The sight didn't bring a sharp pain this time, just a cold, clear certainty. He had been right.

Olivia spotted him from across the room. She started walking toward him, her expression shifting back to that familiar, stoic calm he knew so well. "Ethan," she said, her voice even. "I was hoping I'd see you." She reached out, perhaps to touch his arm, a gesture of casual familiarity between fiancés.

He took a step back, a small, deliberate movement. Her hand froze in the air between them, then dropped to her side. An awkward silence stretched. He saw a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but it was quickly masked. "Are you avoiding me?" she asked, her tone flat.

He met her gaze directly. "We should keep our distance, Olivia. It's better for everyone."

He turned and walked away without another word, leaving her standing there with Daniel. He could feel her eyes on his back, but he didn't look back. His past life was a long, suffocating nightmare. He had been so blind, so foolishly dedicated to a woman who saw him as nothing more than a duty. He had believed her quiet nature was just her personality, not a sign of her heart being elsewhere. This life would be different. This life was for him. He would not make the same mistake twice. He would be free.