The first thing I did when I was given a second chance at life was purge the past. I spent the morning incinerating the physical remnants of a decade’s worth of lies. Nancy’s letters—three years’ worth of carefully scripted "devotion"—were fed into the shredder until they were nothing but confetti. The framed photos of Diana and me? I set them ablaze in the fireplace, watching the edges of our smiling faces curl and blacken into ash. In my previous life, I had been the quintessential fool, a supporting character in a drama where I wasn't even credited in the playbill. I believed Diana when she whispered that she loved me. I believed her so much that I turned down a prestigious fellowship at Oxford just to stay by her side. And for what? She left anyway. She followed Felix halfway across the world the moment he beckoned, leaving me with nothing but a cold, parting remark: “He needs me more than you do, Ben.” I spent those months living like a ghost. Nancy was the one who pulled me back, or so I thought. She brought me dinner every night, looking at me with those soft, empathetic eyes, telling me she had waited eight years for me to notice her. I thought I had finally found my harbor. She never stayed out late; she never looked at another man. Until the winter of my accident. I spent seven days in the ICU, hovering in the gray space between life and death. Nancy never showed up. Not once. Instead, I drifted in and out of consciousness to the hushed gossip of the night nurses: “Poor guy in Bed 12. His wife is here every day, but she never steps foot in his room. She’s always next door, fussing over that guy, Felix.” Later, I learned the truth. Diana hadn’t gone abroad to be with Felix out of love—she went to pay off his gambling debts. And the money? It had all come from Nancy. In the twisted play these three were staging, I was nothing more than the human ATM and the emotional safety net. Not this time. This time, I moved fast. I put the house on the market and booked two one-way tickets to London for myself and my grandfather before the first act could even begin. ... “The guy in Bed 12 is breaking my heart. His wife is here around the clock, but she hasn't even looked in on him.” “I know. She goes straight to the room next door. That patient, Felix? She won’t leave his side.” The nurses' voices filtered through the heavy door of the ICU. My body was shattered from the car wreck, a map of broken bones and internal bleeding. My eyes were fused shut, but my mind was sharp, recording every word. I heard the nurses call Nancy’s phone over and over. She never picked up. She was busy with someone more important. The "redemption" I thought I’d found with her was just another layer of the scam. I tried to scream, to wake up, to demand an explanation, but my strength failed. The last thing I "saw" was the jagged rhythm of my heart monitor smoothing out into a single, eternal horizontal line. When I opened my eyes again, the sunlight was blinding. I was sitting at my old mahogany desk. The calendar read three months before the deadline for the Oxford fellowship—the one I had thrown away for Diana in my past life. I didn't hesitate. I picked up the phone and dialed the International Programs office. “Professor? It’s Ben. I’m calling to confirm my acceptance of the exchange program. I’d like to finalize the paperwork today.” The professor sounded relieved. “Glad to hear it, Ben. It would have been a tragedy to waste talent like yours over… well, anything.” A tragedy. Yes. Throwing away a future for a woman who viewed me as a footnote wasn't just a tragedy; it was a farce. After hanging up, I called a real estate agent. I told him I wanted my parents' house sold—cash only, fast closing. No exceptions. As I finished the call, Diana’s name flashed on my screen. I felt a phantom ache in my chest, the ghost of a love that had once consumed me. “Ben,” she said, her voice cool and commanding. “Felix is struggling with his senior thesis. His design is a mess. You’re the best in the department; I need you to go over to his place and fix it for him.” Always Felix. He was the invisible third person in our bed, the constant shadow over our dinners. In my past life, I had pulled three all-nighters to rebuild his project from scratch. When he won the departmental award, my name wasn't even mentioned in the fine print. Diana’s excuse back then? “Felix has such a fragile constitution, Ben. He needs this win for his resume more than you do.” I gripped the phone, a cold smile touching my lips. “Sure, Diana. Have him email me the files.” “Good boy,” she said. One word. Like she was patting a golden retriever. I looked out the window, marveling at how easily I used to be manipulated. An hour later, there was a knock at the door. It was Nancy, holding a takeout bag from my favorite dim sum place. She set the containers out with practiced grace, her expression a mask of gentle concern. “Eat while it’s hot, Ben. I know you’ve been stressed helping Diana and Felix. Don’t burn yourself out.” She always appeared right when Diana’s coldness reached a breaking point, playing the role of the nurturing alternative. “You know,” she added, her tone conversational, “Felix’s project is so vital. Diana is just worried. He’s been sickly since they were kids; he can’t handle the pressure like you can.” The script was so predictable. Felix was weak, so he deserved everything. I was strong, so I deserved to be bled dry. I picked up a dumpling and smiled at her. “I get it, Nancy. I won’t make things difficult for Diana.” Nancy smiled back, satisfied. They both thought I was still the same Ben—the man who would compromise his soul for a scrap of affection. The next day, I took my laptop to the campus library to finish my visa application. As I scanned the aisles for references, I saw them. Diana and Felix were tucked into a corner booth. Felix was leaning into her, his head on her shoulder. He looked perfectly healthy—flushed and laughing. “Diana, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered. She looked at him with a tenderness she had never afforded me. “Silly boy,” she murmured. When Diana stood up to get a coffee, she spotted me. Her expression hardened instantly. My presence was an intrusion on their curated intimacy. I didn't storm over. I didn't demand an explanation. I simply caught her eye and gave her a polite, distant nod before returning to my books. I could feel her gaze burning into the back of my neck, confused by my lack of reaction. I didn’t care. My countdown had already started. I didn't touch a single file of Felix’s thesis. Two days later, Diana cornered me in the library. She snatched the book out of my hands and slammed it onto the table. The loud thud drew glares from the surrounding students. “Ben, what the hell? I told you to help Felix. Why are you sitting here reading trash?” I looked up at her, then at Felix, who was hovering behind her with a practiced look of innocence. “I’m doing my own research,” I said simply. “What research could possibly be more important than Felix’s graduation?” Diana hissed. She pulled Felix forward. “He hasn’t slept in days worrying about this, and you’re just… ignoring him?” Felix touched her sleeve, his voice a soft whine. “Diana, don’t. Ben probably has his own stuff to do. I’ll just… I’ll figure it out. Even if I fail.” Diana’s eyes flashed with anger. “See? Even now, he’s more considerate than you! Ben, I’m saying this one last time: I want that completed proposal on my desk in a week.” I looked at them, the golden boy and his protector, and felt nothing but a dull sense of relief. “Understood,” I said. She assumed I had folded. She softened slightly, gave my shoulder a dismissive pat, and led Felix away. I went back to my work. It was the last time I’d ever let her see me as her subordinate. The calls started becoming frantic as the deadline approached. “Ben! Where is the file? It’s due in forty-eight hours!” Diana’s voice was shrill over the phone. I turned on the faucet in the kitchen, letting the rush of water fill the silence. “I’m sorry, Diana. My grandfather hasn't been feeling well. I’ve been at the hospital with him. Everything else has had to take a backseat.” “Felix’s future depends on this! Can’t your grandfather’s nurse handle it? Just finish the damn project, Ben.” My grandfather, the man who raised me, was less important to her than a plagiarized thesis for a boy who had never worked a day in his life. “I’ll see what I can do,” I lied. “You’d better. If Felix doesn’t graduate, we are done.” She slammed the phone down. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn't believe I had ever loved a woman who held me in such low Brooke-style contempt. The real estate agent called ten minutes later. He had a buyer. All cash, quick close, way over asking price. I told him to send the contract immediately. To make the "move" look real, I needed to get rid of some of the heavy antique furniture my parents had left behind. It was a two-person job, and I decided to test Nancy one last time. “Nancy? Are you free? I need to move some of the heavy stuff out of the house today. Could use a hand.” There was a long pause. Then, the sound of a faint, pathetic cough in the background. Felix. “Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry. I’m stuck at Felix’s. He’s running a fever and I’m the only one here to look after him. Can’t you just hire movers? I’ll Venmo you the money later.” Always Felix. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, my voice steady. “Take care of him.” I hung up and booked a professional moving crew within five minutes. If money could buy my freedom from their "favors," it was worth every cent. An hour later, I called Nancy back. My voice was a strained whisper. “Nancy… my stomach. It’s bad. I think I need to go to the ER. I’m at City General.” “Stay put! I’m coming!” she cried. I sat on a cold plastic bench in the hospital lobby, watching the automatic doors. Thirty minutes later, Nancy burst through. She was breathless, eyes darting around frantically. But she didn't see me. She didn't even look toward the waiting area. She ran straight past me, sprinting toward the Orthopedics wing. I stood up and followed her at a distance. Outside an exam room, Felix was sitting in a wheelchair, his ankle wrapped in a light bandage. He was crying—fat, theatrical tears. Nancy dropped to her knees in front of him, her face a mask of genuine agony. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. The doctor said it’s just a minor sprain. You’ll be fine in a few days.” “But it hurts so much,” Felix whimpered, leaning his head against hers. She reached out to touch his ankle, her hands trembling with a tenderness she had never shown me even when I had a 103-degree flu. This was the "care" I had been promised in the ICU. It had been happening long before the accident. I stepped out from behind the pillar. “Nancy?” She jumped, nearly knocking Felix over. Her face went pale. “Ben? What… why are you here?” Felix’s tears vanished instantly. His eyes narrowed, flashing a look of pure, territorial triumph. “Stomach pains,” I said, patting my midsection. “I was just heading to get my prescription.” “Are you… are you okay?” Nancy stammered, standing up. “I’ll live. It’s an old issue.” I looked at Felix. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full, though. I’ll let you get back to it. I can find my own way home.” I didn't wait for her to explain. I walked away, knowing that my "jealous but resigned" act would keep them from suspecting anything until it was too late. The day I signed the closing papers and saw the wire transfer hit my account, the sun was shining. I went straight to the registrar’s office, filed for an indefinite leave of absence, and finalized my student visa. That weekend, a mutual friend organized a karaoke night. I knew Diana and Nancy would be there. To keep up appearances, I went. The neon-lit room was thick with the smell of cheap beer and perfume. After an hour, Felix, clutching a bag of dice, stood up with a grin. “Let’s play King’s Game! Whoever draws the King gets to make any two people do whatever they want!” The room cheered. Diana and Nancy laughed, looking at Felix with indulgent eyes. Naturally, Felix drew the King in the first round. He probably cheated. “I command… Number 2 and Number 5 to reenact the ‘I’m flying’ scene from Titanic!” Everyone revealed their cards. I was Number 2. Diana, with a look of visible annoyance, flipped over Number 5. The room exploded into whistles and jeers. “Come on, Ben! Your big moment!” “Diana, don’t be a killjoy, just hug him!” I was pushed onto the low coffee table in the center of the room. Diana stood in front of me, her arms crossed, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. Nancy laughed from the couch. “Hurry up, Diana. Don’t keep us waiting. Ben, open your arms!” I stood there, stiff and humiliated, closing my eyes to avoid seeing the disgust on Diana’s face. I waited for the hug. It never came. Instead, I felt a violent shove against my chest. It was Felix. He had leaped up behind me, laughing as he wrapped his arms around me in a mocking embrace. “Look, Diana! Is this better?” But his momentum was too much. I lost my balance on the slick surface of the table. My feet slipped, and I went crashing backward. CRACK. My head hit the sharp corner of a side table. Stars exploded in my vision. Everything went black for a second, then a searing, white-hot pain bloomed at the base of my skull. I fell to the floor, and the impact knocked several drinks over. Ice-cold gin and sticky soda drenched my hair and clothes. The room went silent. Then, I heard it. Diana didn’t gasp. She didn’t run to help. She let out a sharp, mocking snort. “God, Ben. You’re such a buzzkill,” she said, turning back to the group. Nancy just sighed, checking her manicure. “Honestly, Ben, how clumsy can you be? It was just a game.” No one reached out a hand. All eyes were on Felix, who was now pouting, his eyes welling with fake tears. “I’m sorry, Diana… I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to be funny.” Diana pulled him into her side, her voice softening. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s not your fault. He just can’t keep his feet.” The pain in my head was nauseating. I lay there on the cold, sticky floor, shivering and soaked. I didn't say a word. I gathered what was left of my dignity, stood up, and walked out of that room. I didn't look back. I just felt a profound sense of gratitude. The house was sold. The visa was in my bag. I was leaving in three days.
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