In my past life, I was the punchline of a joke I didn't even know was being told. I spent years sandwiched between Berton and Sean, playing the loyal supporting character in a romance that didn't belong to me. Berton used to tell me he loved me. But the moment I turned down my Ivy League graduate offer to stay by his side, he hopped on a plane to Switzerland with Lila. His goodbye note was a masterpiece of emotional cowardice: “She needs me more than you do.” I cried for three months straight. During those dark days, Sean was the one who showed up at my door with takeout every night. He told me he’d been waiting for me for eight years. I thought I had finally placed the right bet when I married him. He was the perfect husband—home by six, never a stray glance at another woman. Then came the winter of the accident. I spent seven days in a coma in the ICU. He never showed up. Not once. I woke up just long enough to hear the nurses whispering by my bed: “Her husband is here every day, but he never steps foot in this room. He’s next door, taking care of that Lila girl.” It was only then that the pieces clicked into place. The money Berton used to take Lila abroad for her "treatments"? It came from Sean. I wasn’t a wife or a girlfriend; I was just an NPC in their twisted game of devotion to the same woman. When I opened my eyes this time, the first thing I did was burn every photo of Berton. I shredded three years' worth of Sean’s handwritten letters. I put my house on the market and booked two tickets to London for me and my Nana. I’m done being the footnote. 1 “The woman in Bed 12... it’s heartbreaking. Her husband is here every day, but he won’t even look at her.” “I know. He goes straight to the room next door to see that patient, Lila.” The nurses' voices drifted through the heavy fog of the ICU. My body was a map of fractures and bruises, and I had been suspended in this half-waking nightmare for a week. My eyes wouldn't open, but my mind was terrifyingly sharp. I heard the nurses call Sean’s phone over and over. He never came to my side. He was busy protecting someone "more important." I used to think he was my savior. Turns out, he was just a different kind of cage. I fought to breathe, to scream, to wake up, but my vision faded into the long, flat drone of a heart monitor. When I opened my eyes again, the sun was blinding. I was sitting at my old mahogany desk. The calendar read March—three months before I was supposed to sacrifice my future for Berton. The phone rang. It was the Director of International Programs. “Isabel? I’m calling one last time about the London exchange. Have you made a decision?” My voice didn’t tremble. “Yes. I’m in. Thank you for the opportunity, Professor. I’ll have the paperwork finalized today.” “I’m so glad to hear that,” he said, sounding relieved. “It would have been a tragedy to waste a talent like yours on a whim.” He was right. Throwing my life away for a man wasn't romantic; it was pathetic. I hung up and immediately dialed a real estate agent. “I want to list my property. Cash buyers only. I need it closed fast.” Ten minutes later, Berton called. His voice was like a cold splash of water—dismissive and entitled. “Izzy, Lila’s senior thesis is falling apart. You’re the best writer I know. Go over to her place and fix it for her.” Always Lila. She was the ghost that haunted every room we ever entered. In my last life, I stayed up for three days straight rewriting her entire project. She won the departmental award. I wasn't even mentioned in the fine print. Berton’s excuse back then? “Lila’s health is fragile, Izzy. She needs the win for her resume more than you do.” And I had believed him. “Sure,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Send me the files.” “Good girl,” he murmured. The word made my skin crawl. He thought one crumb of affection was enough to keep me on a leash. Later that afternoon, Sean knocked on my door, carrying a bag from the Thai place I used to love. He set the containers out with a practiced, gentle grace. “Eat while it’s hot. I know you’ve been stressed out dealing with Berton and Lila. Don’t burn yourself out.” This was his move. He’d wait for Berton to bruise me, then show up to apply the bandages. “Lila’s project is a big deal,” Sean added, carefully casual. “Berton’s just stressed. The poor girl has been weak since she was a kid; she can’t handle the pressure alone.” They had a thousand reasons for her, and none for me. Lila was fragile, so the world had to stop spinning for her. I took a bite of the pad thai and forced a smile. “I get it, Sean. I won’t make things difficult for Berton.” He looked relieved. He thought I was still the same Isabel—the one who would erode herself until there was nothing left, just to keep them happy. The next day, I didn't go to Lila’s. I went to the library and began my visa application. While I was scanning documents, I spotted them in the reference section. Lila was leaning into Berton’s chest, her face flushed and glowing—hardly the picture of a dying girl. “Berton, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she chirped. He looked at her with a tenderness I had spent years begging for. “Silly girl,” he whispered. He turned to go grab a coffee and caught my eye. His expression stiffened into a frown. My presence was an inconvenience to his perfect afternoon. I didn't storm over. I didn't demand an explanation. I just looked at him, tilted my head, and gave him a polite, hollow smile. Then I turned back to my laptop. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck. I didn't care. In three months, I'd be an ocean away. 2 I didn’t touch a single word of Lila’s thesis. Two days later, Berton cornered me in the library. He slammed a book down on my table, the sound echoing through the quiet hall. People turned to stare. “Isabel, what the hell? I told you to help Lila. Why are you sitting here reading travel guides?” I looked up at him, then at Lila, who was standing behind him with the most perfectly rehearsed look of innocence. “I’m busy,” I said. “Busy with what? What could possibly be more important than Lila’s graduation?” Berton demanded, pulling her forward like a shield. “She hasn’t slept in days because she’s so worried. And you’re just sitting here, being selfish.” Lila touched his arm, her voice a fragile reed. “Berton, stop. It’s okay. I’m sure Isabel has her own things to do. I’ll just… I’ll figure it out. Even if I fail.” That did it. Berton’s face twisted with rage. “See? She’s more thoughtful than you’ll ever be! Isabel, I’m saying this once: I want that draft finished by the end of the week, or we’re done.” I watched their little performance and nodded slowly. “Understood.” He thought he’d won. He led her away, casting one last disgusted look over his shoulder. I went back to my work. I was fine with being the villain in their story, as long as I was the hero in mine. Eventually, the calls started getting more aggressive. “Isabel, where is it? The deadline is in three days!” Berton shouted into the phone. I turned on the faucet in the kitchen, letting the sound of rushing water fill the silence. “I’m so sorry, Berton. Nana hasn't been feeling well. I’ve been at the hospital with her all day.” “Lila’s thesis determines her entire future,” he snapped. “Put your family stuff on hold for a second and get this done. If she doesn't graduate, I’m never forgiving you.” My grandmother, the woman who raised me, didn't matter to him. Only Lila’s GPA did. “But Berton—” I faked a tremble in my voice. “No buts. Get it done.” He hung up. I turned off the water and looked at my reflection. I couldn't believe I had almost died for a man who treated me like a ghostwriter for his mistress. The real estate agent called an hour later. The house was sold. All cash. Closing was set for Friday. I needed to move some of Nana’s antique furniture out before the new owners moved in. It was heavy lifting, and I knew I couldn't do it alone. Naturally, I called the "reliable" Sean. “Sean, are you free? I need to move some of my parents' old things out of the house. I could really use a hand.” There was a long pause. Then, Sean’s voice came through, strained. “Izzy, I’m so sorry. I’m tied up right now.” In the background, I heard a very distinct, feminine cough. “Lila has a fever,” Sean explained. “I’m at her place making sure she’s okay. Maybe call a moving company? I’ll Venmo you the cost later.” Always her. “Don’t worry about it, Sean,” I said, smiling to myself. “Take care of her.” I hung up and hired professional movers within five minutes. Why beg for help when you can pay for excellence? A few days later, I decided to test the waters one last time. I called Sean, my voice weak and thinned out. “Sean… my stomach is killing me. I’m at the Downtown General ER.” “Don’t move,” he said instantly. “I’m on my way!” I sat on a plastic chair in the ER waiting room, watching the clock. Thirty minutes later, Sean burst through the sliding doors. He was sprinting, his face a mask of panic. But he didn't even look at the seating area. He ran right past me. He bolted toward the orthopedic wing. I stood up and followed him at a distance. There, in a curtained-off area, sat Lila in a wheelchair. Her ankle was wrapped in a light bandage. She was sobbing. Sean dropped to his knees in front of her, stroking her hair. “Shh, it’s okay. The doctor said it’s just a tiny sprain. You’re going to be fine.” “But it hurts so much,” she whimpered, leaning into him. The way he looked at her—it was more real, more raw, than any look he’d ever given me. My "stomach ache" was a non-event compared to Lila’s bruised ego. I walked up behind them. The air in the room shifted. Sean turned around and froze. “Isabel… what are you doing here?” His eyes darted around, looking for an escape. Lila’s tears vanished instantly, replaced by a glint of pure triumph. “My stomach,” I said, gesturing to myself. “I’m just waiting for my prescription.” “Are you… are you okay?” Sean asked, standing up awkwardly. “I’ll live. Just a chronic issue. Don't let me interrupt.” I turned and walked away before he could offer a lie. I didn't need to hear it. I just needed to see it one last time to make sure my heart was truly dead to them. It was. 3 The day I got the wire transfer for the house, the sun was shining. I moved the funds into a private account and finalized my withdrawal from the semester. That Saturday, a mutual friend organized a night at a high-end lounge. I knew Berton and Sean would be there. To keep up appearances and avoid any "missing person" reports before I could flee, I went. We were in a private booth, drinks flowing. Lila, ever the center of attention, grabbed a set of dice. “Let's play a game! Winner gets to pick two people to do whatever they want!” Predictably, Lila won the first round. She scanned the group with a cat-like grin. “I command Number 2 and Number 5 to recreate the 'I’m flying' scene from Titanic. Right here on the table!” I looked at my card. Number 2. Berton scowled and flipped his card. Number 5. The room erupted. “Isabel, this is your lucky night!” someone yelled. “Come on, Berton, give your girl a squeeze!” I was pushed toward the edge of the coffee table. Berton looked like he was being led to a firing squad. Sean was laughing along, though his eyes were cold. “Hurry up, Berton. Don't keep the lady waiting. Izzy, open your arms.” I stood there, stiff as a board, arms outstretched, eyes closed. I waited for the awkward touch. Instead, I felt a violent shove from behind. Lila had lunged forward, laughing, “Wait, let me help!” The shove sent me off balance. My heels slipped on a spilled drink, and I went down hard. My head cracked against the sharp corner of the marble table. The world went black for a second. As I fell, bottles of champagne and glasses toppled over, drenching me in sticky, freezing liquid and crushed fruit. Silence fell over the booth. Then, I heard it. Berton’s voice, sharp with annoyance. “God, Isabel. You’re so clumsy. Way to ruin the mood.” Sean didn't move to help. He just frowned. “It was just a game, Izzy. You didn’t have to make a scene.” Not one hand reached out to pull me up. All eyes were on Lila, who was now clutching her hand, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh no, I think I scratched my finger when I tried to catch her! Berton, it hurts!” Berton immediately pulled her to him, his voice melting into honey. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. She just can't stand on her own two feet.” I lay there on the cold, wet floor, my head throbbing, my clothes ruined. I didn't cry. I just quietly got up, wiped the champagne from my eyes, and walked out. I didn't say goodbye. I didn't look back. I had three days until my flight. The third day was my birthday. Maybe the guilt had finally kicked in, or maybe they just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to hold a grudge. Sean texted: “Happy Birthday, Izzy. 7 PM at The Peak. I booked the corner booth. Let’s celebrate.” A few minutes later, Berton messaged: “Happy Birthday. Lila didn’t mean to push you the other night, don’t be dramatic. We’ll all be there tonight to make it up to you.” I stared at the screen. One last goodbye. “Fine,” I replied to both. That evening, I took a car to the restaurant. It was a beautiful spot overlooking the city lights. This was a repeat of my past life. Back then, I had worn a dress Berton bought me. I had waited at this very table, only for both of them to vanish before the appetizers arrived because Lila had called saying she felt "faint." I had waited until the restaurant closed. No calls. No texts. Just the sympathetic looks of the waiters and the crushing weight of my own stupidity. Later, I saw a post on Instagram. Lila, in a tiara, holding a cake. Berton and Sean were on either side of her, looking at her like she was the moon. The caption read: “Emergency cake party with my two favorite knights! Who says you need a birthday to be a princess?” My birthday didn't matter. Her "impromptu" celebration did. 4 “Isabel? You’re staring into space.” Sean’s voice snapped me back to the present. He and Berton were sitting across from me. The food had been served, but the air was thick with unspoken tension. Sean raised his glass. “Izzy, I’m sorry about the lounge. This is to you. Happy Birthday.” Berton didn't apologize, but he didn't snap either. He just looked at me with a confusing, heavy gaze. Then, the inevitable happened. Sean’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, and his face went pale. He answered immediately. “What? Fainted? Which hospital?” He hung up and looked at me, the familiar script of "I’m sorry" already forming on his lips. “Izzy, I’m so sorry. Lila… she had a blood sugar crash. She’s in the ER. I have to go.” Before I could even blink, Berton was already standing up, jacket in hand. He looked at Sean. “I’m coming too. You might need help handling the paperwork.” Like clockwork. For the second time in two lifetimes, they were abandoning me on my birthday for the same woman. “Isabel, stay here and eat,” Sean promised, already halfway to the door. “We’ll be back as soon as she’s stable. I swear!” They bolted. The heavy doors of the private dining room swung shut, leaving me in total silence. I looked at the table full of expensive food. I didn't wait a single second. I grabbed my coat and signaled the waiter. “Check, please.” I stepped out into the night air. It was cold, but for the first time in my life, I felt like I could actually breathe. I took out my phone and did what I should have done years ago. Berton: Blocked. Sean: Blocked. Lila: Blocked. I took a taxi straight home. The house was empty now. Just a few suitcases belonging to me and Nana. No furniture, no memories, no ghosts. I stripped off the expensive dress I was wearing—the one they liked—and threw it directly into the trash can. Along with it went every last shred of my feelings for Berton. I went into Nana’s room. She was asleep, her breathing steady. I tucked the blanket around her and kissed her forehead. “Nana, this time, I’m taking you somewhere where nobody can hurt us.” I didn’t sleep that night. I checked our passports and tickets a dozen times. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, I woke her up gently. “Nana, we’re going on a trip. A long one. You ready?” She smiled, her eyes a bit foggy but full of love. “Wherever you go, Izzy. That’s where I belong.” At the airport, the morning light felt like a benediction. I held Nana’s hand as we walked toward the gate. Goodbye, Berton. Goodbye, Sean. And Lila? Good luck. You’re going to need it when your two "knights" realize their favorite prize is finally out of reach.
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