Chapter 1

The last thing I remembered was the screech of tires on wet pavement and the violent crush of metal. David was next to me, his body thrown against mine by the force of the impact. The smell of gasoline was thick in the air.

His breathing was shallow, a terrible rattling sound in his chest. He looked at me, his eyes unfocused but filled with a decade of cold resentment.

"Sarah," he whispered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "I... I wish I'd never met you."

Those were his final words. Not "I love you." Not "I'm sorry." Just regret. A decade of marriage, a decade of my one-sided love, a decade of me being a stand-in for the ghost of Emily White, and it all ended with him wishing me out of his existence. He died saving me from the crash he caused, but his words killed me more completely than any physical injury could.

My heart felt like it had been torn out of my chest. Then, everything went dark.

A sharp, sweet scent of cherry blossoms filled my nose. Sunlight warmed my face. I opened my eyes slowly, confused. I wasn't in a wrecked car. I was sitting on a university lawn, a gentle breeze rustling the pages of an architecture textbook in my lap.

I looked down at my hands. They were young, unblemished by time or the small scars from my model-building work. I was wearing a simple white dress I hadn't seen in over ten years.

A crowd of students had gathered nearby, their faces bright with excitement. In the center of them stood David Chen. He looked exactly as he did the day he proposed. Young, brilliant, the king of the campus, his eyes fixed on me with a confidence that I used to find so attractive.

This was it. The moment my life took its wrong turn.

He walked toward me, holding a small, velvet box. The crowd buzzed with anticipation. In my past life, this was the moment I had dreamed of. I had cried tears of joy.

Today, my heart was a block of ice.

"Sarah Miller," he began, his voice clear and full of theatrical charm. "From the moment I saw you in the library, I knew you were special. Will you marry me?"

He opened the box. Inside was the simple diamond ring that I had worn for ten miserable years.

I looked at his expectant face, at the smiling crowd, and I felt nothing except a profound sense of exhaustion. I had already lived this life. I had already died in it.

I closed my textbook with a soft snap.

"No."

The word was quiet, but it cut through the air like a blade.

A wave of shocked silence washed over the crowd. David's smile froze on his face. He blinked, certain he had misheard.

"What did you say?"

"I said no, David," I repeated, my voice steady. I stood up, brushing the grass from my dress. "I won't marry you."

I didn't wait for his reaction. I turned and walked away from him, away from the life that had brought me so much pain. My eyes scanned the stunned faces in the crowd, searching for one person.

There he was. Michael Thorne. He was standing at the edge of the group, half-hidden behind a tree. He was a quiet, introverted software engineering student. In my past life, he was a silent friend, always there in the background, offering a quiet word of support when David forgot my birthday, or a helping hand when I was struggling with a project. He had always looked at me with a kindness that I had been too blind to see.

I walked directly toward him. He looked startled, his eyes wide with confusion as I stopped in front of him.

"Michael," I said, my voice clear and determined. "I know this is sudden. But I want to be with you."

He just stared at me, speechless. Before he could respond, I knew I had to leave. The weight of David's gaze was burning into my back.

Later that afternoon, as I was walking back to my dorm, a hand shot out and grabbed my arm. It was David.

He looked younger than the man who had died in my arms, but the cold fury in his eyes was identical. It was a look I knew intimately. And in that moment, a horrifying realization washed over me.

He remembered. He was reborn, too.

"You did this on purpose," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. The crowd was gone, but his anger was a physical force. "You're punishing me for what I said, aren't you?"

His words hit me just as hard as they did in the car. The pain was so sharp, so real, that I flinched. He thought this was revenge. He thought my rejection was a game.

"David, you don't understand," I tried to explain, my voice trembling slightly. "I'm setting you free. You can be with Emily now. You can have the life you always wanted."

I said her name, the name of his perfect, deceased first love. The name that had haunted my entire marriage.

He looked at me as if I had just threatened him. His face twisted with rage and disbelief.

"You think this is a joke?" he spat. "You think you can just throw her name in my face?"

He was still clutching the velvet ring box. With a gesture of pure disgust, he threw it on the ground at my feet. It bounced once before settling in the grass.

He turned and stormed away without another word.

I stood there, my books clutched to my chest, staring at the discarded ring box. He didn't understand. He still thought I was the villain in his story.

But as I watched his retreating back, I didn't feel despair. I felt a strange, quiet sense of peace. This time, his story wasn't my story. My new life had just begun.