Introduction

At eighty, I lay dying in a sterile hospital room, a life I felt was utterly wasted flashing before my eyes.

My wife of sixty years, Olivia Hayes, sat beside me, her stoic composure a familiar mask.

Then, her whispered confession shattered everything: "Tell Daniel... I've always loved him."

Daniel, her colleague from decades ago.

Sixty years of quiet resentment, of being a placeholder, a fool.

Rage burned in my dying body-a useless, consuming fire.

Then, darkness.

Light. Soft blankets. My young mother' s beaming face.

It was 1987. I was a baby again, but the memories of my eighty-year life, and Olivia's betrayal, were searing.

"Mom," I squeaked, my infant voice unwavering, "I won't marry Olivia Hayes."

Years later, at eighteen, the name Olivia was a constant dread.

Our families had an arranged engagement, a relic I had accepted in my past life.

This time, it was a prison sentence.

I saw her with Daniel Lee at the community center, laughing the unguarded laugh I rarely saw in our marriage, her caring gestures confirming the truth.

She approached me, that familiar stoic calm in place, perhaps to touch my arm.

I stepped back, a deliberate movement.

"Are you avoiding me?" she asked, her tone flat.

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

I walked away. My past life, a suffocating nightmare.

This life would be different. This life was for me.

I would be free.