I drifted through the days that followed, an unseen ghost in my own life's aftermath. I watched Liam, the man I had loved for ten years, the man for whom I had given up everything. He looked sad, but it was a shallow, performative grief.
The day of my funeral was gray and drizzling. I stood beside my own casket, watching the mourners. My mother, Brenda, was dabbing her eyes, leaning on the arm of her husband, Richard. They looked more annoyed by the inconvenience than heartbroken.
And then I saw it. The moment that shattered the last remnants of my love and sent my spirit screaming into the void.
Liam, my Liam, pulled Scarlett Hayes aside, behind a large oak tree. Scarlett, my stepsister, the woman he always called his "soulmate," the woman for whom he asked me to sacrifice my dream. He knelt on one knee in the damp grass.
He held out a ring, the one I had once pointed out in a jewelry store window.
"Scarlett," he whispered, his voice thick with an emotion he never once showed me. "Chloe is gone. There's nothing standing in our way now. Marry me."
Scarlett' s tears were ones of joy. She threw her arms around his neck, and they kissed, a passionate, desperate kiss, right there at my funeral. Our friends, the ones who were supposed to be mourning me, saw them and started to smile, some even offering quiet, congratulatory pats on Liam's back.
My spirit ripped apart with a pain far worse than any car crash. The betrayal was absolute. My entire life, a sacrifice for a lie. My love, a tool for their happiness. The regret was a fire that consumed me whole.
I woke up with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Sunlight streamed through my window, the same window in my old bedroom at my mother's house. I was drenched in sweat, my body trembling.
I looked at my hands. They were young, unmarred by the years of housework and the calluses from packing boxes for the failing online store Liam and I ran. I scrambled out of bed and looked in the mirror. My face was the face of my 22-year-old self. No faint lines of exhaustion around my eyes, no permanent crease of worry on my forehead.
My laptop was open on my desk. I lurched towards it, my hands shaking as I touched the trackpad. The screen flickered to life.
An email was open, the subject line glowing like a beacon of hope.
"Internship Offer: Prestigious New York Firm."
The date on the screen read June 12, 2008.
It was the day. The day it all went wrong. The day Liam would come to me with his manipulative, life-destroying proposal.
I was back. I had a second chance.
A tear rolled down my cheek, hot and real. But it wasn't a tear of sadness. It was a tear of rage, of relief, of steely determination.
This time, there would be no sacrifice. This time, I would choose myself.
Just then, the doorbell rang. I knew who it was. My heart, instead of fluttering with love like it did the first time, turned to a solid block of ice.
I walked downstairs, my steps firm and measured. I opened the door.
There he was. Liam Peterson, looking exactly as he did ten years in my memory, a charming smile on his handsome face, a bouquet of my favorite flowers in his hand.
"Chloe," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I have something amazing to talk to you about. It's about our future."
In my first life, I had melted. This time, I just stared at him, my expression unreadable.
He walked in, setting the flowers on the table. He took my hands, his touch now feeling repulsive.
"I know you got the internship offer," he began, his eyes sparkling with what I once thought was love, but now recognized as calculation. "I am so proud of you. But I have a better offer. A proposal."
Here it comes, I thought.
"Marry me, Chloe," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But there's one thing. Scarlett... you know how much she wants to be an architect. She's so fragile, and this is her last chance. If you give her your internship spot... I promise, I will marry you, and we can build our own life together. She' s my soulmate, you know that, but you... you're the one I want to build a home with."
The words were almost identical. The sheer audacity of it, the cold manipulation, was breathtaking.
In my past life, I had cried, torn between my dream and the man I loved. I had chosen him.
This time, I slowly pulled my hands from his. I looked him straight in the eye, and a small, cold smile touched my lips.
"No."
The word was quiet, but it landed in the silent room with the force of a bomb.
Liam' s smile faltered. He looked confused, as if he'd misheard me. "What? Chloe, what are you talking about? This is for us."
"No," I repeated, louder this time, my voice clear and steady. "I will not give my internship to Scarlett. And you and I? We're over."
He stared at me, his mouth slightly agape. The charming facade cracked, revealing the self-serving man underneath. "Are you crazy? Chloe, don't be selfish. This is the best path for everyone."
"It was the best path for you and Scarlett," I corrected him. "It was the path that led to me working myself to death while you kept your 'soulmate' happy. It was the path that ended with you proposing to her at my funeral."
The last part slipped out, a venomous echo from a future he couldn't comprehend.
He just looked baffled. "Funeral? What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?"
"No, Liam," I said, walking to the door and holding it open. "For the first time in a very long time, I've found it. I'm taking the internship. I'm going to New York. And I am never, ever going to sacrifice my life for yours again. Now, get out."
He stood there, stunned into silence, the flowers on the table looking garish and cheap. He couldn't understand the woman standing before him. The naive, love-struck girl he knew was gone, replaced by a stranger with eyes full of a wisdom and pain he could never imagine.
This was my new beginning. And it started with him walking out of my life for good.