In our first marriage, Laura had just founded her own tech startup, CarterTech Innovations. We’d kept things simple a courthouse marriage and no ceremony at the time.
Years later, once her company was thriving, I decided to throw her the wedding she deserved. I spent evenings researching venues and scrolling through invitation designs, picturing the perfect day.
She barely reacted when I told her my plans.
I thought she was just tired her business demanded long hours. She was proud of CarterTech, the company she had built from scratch straight out of college. She refused to lean on my family’s money, saying she wanted to succeed on her own terms.
"Honey, I’ll earn enough to buy you the best paints and canvases so you can focus on your art," she’d promised once, smiling over the smell of fresh coffee in our small downtown loft.
But a week before the wedding arrangements were finalized, I noticed her demeanor shift. She seemed distant, distracted. At the Clearwater Grand Hotel, while I discussed menu packages with the event manager, she quietly asked, "Do we really have to have a wedding?"
I brushed it off, not really hearing her.
Later that evening, when I came home early, I found her pacing the living room, clutching her phone. She was redialing a number over and over, anxiety in every movement.
"Who’s that?" I asked gently.
She quickly tucked the phone away. "Just an employee asking for a raise," she said with an unconvincing smile.
I suggested dinner at O’Malley’s BBQ, one of our old haunts from college. The smell of smoked meat and the hum of small-town chatter filled the air as we sat in our usual booth. I made her plate her favorite brisket, cornbread, and coleslaw but she barely touched it, her eyes glued to her phone.
On the mounted TV above the bar, entertainment news played. The anchor was talking about Ryan Mitchell, now a rising country music star.
"This morning, singer Ryan Mitchell announced his wedding to real estate heiress Kelly Dawson. Ryan also commented that he once had a first love he could never forget, but he is now devoted to his wife."
Laura’s fork slipped from her hand, clattering onto the table.
"Don’t worry," I said, taking her hand. "I’m right here."
I knew Ryan from high school overconfident, charming, and often cruel. He had teased Laura relentlessly back then. I’d stepped in, confronting him behind the gym one afternoon and warning him to leave her alone.
I thought that part of our history was long gone.
I was wrong.
Late that same night, I woke to the sound of running water. I walked into the bathroom and froze.
Laura was in the tub, just like in my worst nightmare the one that had been reality before I woke up in the past.
Only this time, I pulled her out in my mind and saw her lips shaping words she’d spoken once before:
"Ryan... I love you."
In her contacts, he wasn’t saved as "Ryan." He was saved as "Lover."
And because he got married, she decided not to live anymore.
The night after the funeral, I couldn’t sleep. I sat on the living room floor with a bourbon in hand, surrounded by photo albums, her old journals, and her phone, which the police had returned.
I don’t know what made me do it maybe desperation, maybe the sick need for answers but I unlocked the phone and scrolled through her messages.
Rayan’s name lit up the screen,
"I don’t love her. I never did. I only wanted you."
"But you’re married now. From this moment, we’re strangers."
Her unsent reply: "Next life, I’ll be your wife."
Chapter 01
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