In the retirement home, a group of us sat in a circle, reminiscing about the loves that had carved themselves into our memories. When it was my turn, I spoke calmly: "When I was twenty-five, my husband gave me his heart." The room fell silent. No one spoke. Even after forty years, thinking of him brought that familiar, cramping pain to my chest. I pushed myself up, ready to retire to my room, when a newcomer, an old woman who had just arrived, suddenly spoke up: "What a coincidence. The thing I can't forget is the first year I was with him. I told him I wanted a title, a commitment." "After hearing that, he made his wife have a 'sudden heart attack,' pretended to give her his heart, and faked his own death to escape." "His wife remained a widow for him her whole life, while we grew old together, surrounded by children and grandchildren." As she spoke, she stared straight at me. The malice in her eyes was unmistakable. Only then did I recognize her. She was my husband's secretary from forty years ago, Lily. Chapter 1 The sheer shock made me faint. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Ryan dressed as Santa Claus. He was handing me a gift: "Merry Christmas, Jane! Open it, see if you like it." The scene was too familiar. In my past life, after I opened that gift with joy, the contents triggered a heart attack. When I woke up, I received the devastating news of his death. Now, looking at his face so close to mine—a face worn down by forty years of longing in my memory, but now vivid and bright— I heard Lily's words echoing in my mind before I fainted. Triggered heart attack... faked death... My hand paused in mid-air. Finally, under his expectant gaze, it landed on the ribbon-tied box. Slowly, I lifted the lid. The object, exactly as I remembered, lay quietly on the velvet lining. Almost instantly, that familiar cramping pain swept through my heart. My vision began to darken, Ryan's panicked face swaying before my eyes... I woke up in the hospital again, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and low sobbing. My mother-in-law held my hand, her voice choked with tears: "Jane, you must hold on... Ryan... he left his heart for you. He wanted you to live well..." Everything was exactly the same as my previous life. Except this time, I didn't shed a single tear. My face held almost no expression. Relatives and friends gathered around the bed. Their looks of sympathy gradually turned into confusion, and finally, silent accusation. How can you not cry? How can you be so calm? He gave his life for you! I ignored everyone's attempts to stop me and rushed home. I searched frantically. Drawers, closets, old books, junk boxes... Finally, on his old computer, I found a purchase record. Behind the record was an unfamiliar delivery address. I followed the address. It was a quiet neighborhood, the house looking cozy and comfortable. I didn't see anyone, but a neighbor coming out to dump trash eyed me and chatted casually: "Looking for the young couple in 302? They have such a good relationship." "I remember once when it rained, he was afraid his wife would slip, so he took off work two hours early just to lay non-slip mats from the building entrance to the garage." "Usually when he buys groceries, he remembers to bring back a small bunch of daisies, her favorite..." I listened quietly, absorbing every word. Non-slip mats on rainy days. Favorite flowers. Ryan did these for me too. During the rainy season after my heart condition diagnosis, he silently did the same thing. He always remembered to bring a bunch of lilies, my favorite. It turned out those details I thought were unique to me weren't exclusive. They could be copied and pasted into another life, becoming proof of another woman being deeply loved. I sat back in my car, closed the door, and the world fell silent. The steering wheel was cold. I gripped it, not knowing where to go or what to believe. Forty years of nostalgia, forty years of heartache—what were they built on? Which part was true emotion, and which part was acting? My phone screen lit up abruptly with a notification. It was from a contact I didn't remember adding, posting a new status. The picture was a casual shot of a street view, tagged in a distant coastal town in Florida. The text was simple: [New home settled. She likes the ocean.] It just so happened to be the place Ryan and Lily moved to. In my past life, I had this contact too. He didn't post often, but every share was a mundane, warm moment between a husband and wife: Grocery shopping for her favorite ingredients, curling up at home to watch old movies on rainy days, gardening with her on the balcony... Every line was filled with the smoke and fire of ordinary life, and cherished care. I didn't know who he was, but reading between the lines, I thought he must be a very good husband. I even thought, if my Ryan were still here, he would probably be like this. So, I never could bring myself to delete this stranger's account. Occasionally, I would even like a post. As if by doing so, I could borrow a little bit of illusory warmth from someone else's happiness to comfort my own boundless desolation. I just never expected. That was him. Ryan. He was loving another woman in the way I had longed for. Chapter 2 Before I knew it, I was on a plane to that coastal town. After forty years of suffering in my past life, I needed an answer. Upon arrival, I used the information I found to locate a cafe owned by one of Lily's friends. Hearing that I was an old acquaintance of Lily's, her friend warmly invited me to sit. Without me asking, she proactively started talking about how Ryan and Lily met. "Ryan and Lily were college alumni! She was two years below him. They met at orientation and have been in touch ever since." "It wasn't until last year that they made it official. Because Lily loves the ocean, Ryan immediately bought a sea-view house here, saying he wanted to grow old with her here." "Who knew that right after moving, Lily would get pregnant. Ryan was overjoyed, saying this was true stability, and he had to give Lily and the child a proper status immediately." Only then did I learn that they had known each other for so long. That they had long agreed to retire here. That Lily was already pregnant. The friend was still talking about the details of Ryan and Lily's romance. My thoughts drifted back to my previous life. Actually, Ryan and I had a child too. But because of my heart condition, the doctors didn't recommend keeping it. That day, he was silent for a long time, then hugged me and said, "Then we won't have it. I only want you to be safe." I was truly moved and guilty. Guilty enough to think about risking my life to have the baby. But later, I overheard a phone call between him and his mother. "Yes, I did tamper with things, but so what? She's pregnant now. I just need to coax her, and she'll be too soft-hearted to abort it! What's wrong with me wanting a child..." In that moment, the world went silent. I only heard my own heart beating heavily. The tender husband before me twisted into a stranger I didn't recognize at all. I smashed everything within reach and screamed at him hysterically. I called him selfish, a liar, said he didn't care if I lived or died, treating me as a breeding tool. After his initial panic, his face showed the anger of being exposed, and he blurted out: "You short-lived invalid, if you can't even have kids, why did I marry you?" All anger froze in that instant. I looked at him as if looking at a monster. Then a violent cramp seized my lower abdomen, and warm liquid gushed out without warning, staining my dress and the messy floor beneath my feet. The child couldn't be saved. In the hospital room, his parents came too. In front of his parents, he knelt on the floor, slapping himself over and over. He cried saying he was possessed, that he wanted a child of our own too much, that he lost his head in fear of losing me. He said he was wrong, truly knew he was wrong, begged for my forgiveness, said he would never dare again, as long as I was okay. Ryan hit himself hard; his cheeks quickly swelled. His parents stood by, wanting to stop him but daring not to, only persuading him with red eyes while looking at me cautiously, afraid of agitating me further. I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to watch that absurd and disgusting scene. My body hurt, my heart numb with cold. But the human heart is just that pathetic. Knowing it might be poison coated in sugar, having just experienced heart-wrenching betrayal and harm, Seeing him kneeling there, face swollen, snot and tears flowing, listening to those pleas... Pathetic emotions began to stir again. After all, a man wanting a child with the one he loves... doesn't seem... wrong? In such a moment, I actually found an excuse for him. I softened and forgave him. After that, he indeed never mentioned children again, treating me with increasing caution and meticulous care. I once thought that was guilt, repentance. Now sitting in this coffee-scented shop, listening to his lover's friend say cheerfully, "Lily is pregnant." I finally, sluggishly connected everything. He didn't give up on the idea of having children. He found a healthier vessel to nurture his complete, perfect family. "Are you... here to find them?" The friend finally stopped her narration, looking at my overly silent and pale face with curiosity. I opened my mouth, the salty bitterness of the sea breeze seemingly stuck in my throat. Find them? In what capacity would I find them? Before I could fabricate a suitable reason, the friend had already self-righteously provided the answer: "I know, you're here for their wedding tomorrow night at the Shangri-La, right? A joyous occasion, perfect to join in the fun!" The Shangri-La. It was also the wedding venue Ryan and I had chosen together. Chapter 3 I came to the Shangri-La again. Champagne rose arches, a long red carpet. Every detail, the curve of the petals, the folds of the ribbons, was exactly the same as when Ryan and I hunched over the blueprints, deliberating repeatedly. In my past life, I never set foot here again, afraid of touching old wounds. But now, this "graveyard" filled with my pain was witnessing their happiness. I walked in among the guests and saw many familiar faces. Ryan's relatives and friends, former colleagues, even... His parents. The two elders were dressed in brand-new formal wear, surrounded by old friends, their faces beaming with irrepressible joy. Looking at them, I could actually smile. Though the smile was probably uglier than crying. In my past life, after Ryan gave me his heart, his mother held my hand, crying until she was weak: "Jane, Ryan is gone, you are our own daughter now. His last wish was for you to live well, we... we will take care of you for him." I took those words as truth, and as a debt. When they were sick and hospitalized, I was the one keeping vigil, signing papers, running errands. Fixing pipes, changing bulbs, organizing clothes with the changing seasons, it was all me. Holiday gifts were never missed, weekend visits were unbreakable. When his father had heart surgery, I signed the risk notification. When his mother had trouble walking, I paid for a caregiver and went over every week to manage things personally. Until they passed away one after the other, I handled their funerals with dignity as a "daughter." I boiled my guilt toward Ryan into decades of companionship. I thought it was repayment, a memorial. But now, I heard his mother praising to relatives: "Lily, that child, is truly flawless. She's taken good care of Ryan all these years and is so thoughtful towards us old folks." "We've waited so many years, finally they're settling down." His father nodded, his tone gratified: "Yes, it's thanks to her that Ryan could move on. We've looked forward to this day for too long." So, during those years when I cared for them as a "widow" until their ends, They already knew their son was in another city, living as husband and wife with another woman. My heartfelt devotion, in their eyes, was probably just a foolish dullard moving herself. A sharp sourness rushed up my nose. I lowered my head, warm drops hitting the carpet by my feet, spreading into dark spots. At this moment, a distant aunt lowered her voice, probing tentatively: "Speaking of which... how is Ryan's ex... that Jane girl doing?" The lively chatter instantly quieted. The smile on his mother's face faded, corners of her mouth pulling quickly: "Oh, why mention irrelevant people and things on such a great day. It's all in the past, look forward." Irrelevant people. Yesterday she sent me a message advising me to look forward, today I became "irrelevant." The wedding was about to start, guests taking their seats. I stood at the very back of the crowd, looking at this scene that was identical to my dream. The music I picked, the flowers I chose, every step of the process I designed. On stage, Ryan stood in a crisp tuxedo, his posture still upright. Since being reborn, this was the first time I looked at him closely. Still the young appearance in my memory, vivid, real. That familiar pain in my chest rose again, dense and stubborn. After all, what lay between us wasn't just these few days of rebirth, but the forty years I endured alone. The Wedding March played solemnly, Lily in a white gown walking slowly towards Ryan. Watching this, the answer that had forced me to pursue this seemed... unimportant. He was unimportant too. Lily's smile was happy and certain as she stopped in front of him. The officiant began to ask: "Ryan Sterling, do you take Lily Hayes to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?" All eyes were focused on him. I turned my gaze away, no longer looking at the perfect picture that had nothing to do with me, preparing to leave. I had seen what I needed to see, felt the pain I needed to feel. It ends here. However, just as I turned around and took the first step. On stage, Ryan's voice came through clearly: "I do not." I whipped my head back. Lily's face was deathly pale, but he didn't care. I heard him roaring at Lily: "In this life, I only love Jane Miller! Don't think about stopping me from finding her!" With that, he pushed the frozen bride aside, and amidst the shocked gazes of the entire venue, jumped off the stage and rushed towards the exit, disregarding everything. Right into my line of sight. Chapter 4 At this moment, Ryan's eyes were filled with disbelief. He took a step forward, looking at me cautiously, as if I were a lost treasure recovered. He reached out, wanting to touch my face. I took a step back, dodging him. His fingers curled, a look of hurt crossing his face. But he quickly adjusted his expression, his voice gentle: "Jane, did you come to find me?" I didn't speak. I didn't need to. Lily had already rushed over. Her meticulously made-up face was distorted, eyes fixed dead on me. "Jane Miller! You did this on purpose, didn't you! You deliberately chose today to ruin my wedding! You haunting ghost..." She raised her hand to strike me. Ryan moved almost simultaneously with her raised hand. He grabbed her wrist with such force that Lily cried out in pain, then he shoved her backward. Lily stumbled back a few steps in her high heels, nearly falling if someone hadn't caught her. "Ryan!" She looked at him in disbelief, tears instantly welling up. Ryan didn't even look at her; he just turned around, using his body to block me, separating me from Lily. His back was as broad as I remembered; this back used to give me countless moments of peace. But looking at it now, I only felt a dense sourness in a certain part of my heart, not sharp, but omnipresent. If there hadn't been those forty years of endurance in my past life, If I were still the twenty-five-year-old Jane whose heart was full of him, I think, given how much I loved him, seeing him like this now, I probably would have softened, wavered, found ten thousand reasons to forgive him. But those forty years were not fake. The filial duties I performed for him, the nights I kept watch alone, the empty space in my heart when seeing others' family reunions, and the guilt accompanying every heartbeat. None of these were fake. Ryan's parents squeezed through the crowd too. His mother saw me first, her eyes flickering with guilt, But it quickly turned into anxious concern as she went to support Lily. "Lily! Are you okay? Is... is your stomach uncomfortable?" Lily leaned into his mother's arms, tears falling harder, biting her lip silently, Only looking at Ryan with that mournful and stubborn gaze, then glancing at me from time to time, a silent accusation. His father also arrived, face dark as he said to Ryan: "Ryan! What are you doing! Lily is pregnant, how can you push her like that! What if you hurt the child?" Ryan's body stiffened. I could feel the back shielding me waver for a moment. He turned his head slightly, his peripheral vision sweeping over Lily's still flat belly, his Adam's apple bobbing. But the next second, he turned back, voice firm: "Dad, Mom, I said it, I only love Jane in this life. She is my wife." He said it with such certainty, as if the person who was ready to marry Lily and give her and the child a home wasn't him. Lily finally burst into tears. She broke free from his mother's support, taking unsteady steps forward, Not towards Ryan, but towards me. "Jane... I beg you, I beg you, okay? Give him back to me..." "No, not to me, give him back to this child. The child cannot be without a father..." "I know I wronged you, I know I owe you." "But the child is innocent... just have pity on this child, give him a complete home, okay?" As she spoke, she actually bent her knees, about to kneel.
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