Chapter 1

On the eve of our college entrance exams, I received a letter sent from ten years into the future.

"Josie, whatever you do, do not marry Weston. Your marriage will be a complete and utter tragedy."

I looked up from the paper. Across the table, Weston was carefully picking every tiny bone out of a piece of fish before placing it on my plate.

He was the beloved golden boy of our school, yet he never lost his temper with me. He gave me everything I ever asked for.

The warning in the letter sounded completely absurd.

Annoyed, I grabbed a pen and scribbled a furious reply on the back:

"What do you know? His whole world revolves around me. He would never treat me badly."

"Ever since we were kids, whenever someone tried to bully me, he was always the first to throw a punch."

"On rainy days, he would rather get soaked to the skin just to keep the umbrella completely over my head."

At the very bottom, I pressed down hard on the pen and wrote:

"At worst, life might just be a little tough. It is not like it could kill me."

The moment the ink dried, a brand-new line of text surfaced beneath my words:

"Yes, it will. You will die."

1

I scoffed, convinced this was just a stupid prank.

I instinctively reached out to grab Weston's hand, wanting to show him this ridiculous joke.

Yet the second my fingers brushed the warm skin of his knuckles, the noisy chatter of the cafeteria vanished instantly.

A floating figure appeared beside me out of thin air.

She was wearing an oversized hospital gown, her face gaunt and pale. She told me she was me from the future.

"Look closely, Josie."

"See how worthless the love you were so proud of becomes the moment Daphne enters the picture."

Following her gaze, I saw a sterile hospital hallway seven years into the future.

Another version of me sat on a cold waiting bench.

She looked around twenty-five, clutching her bleeding forehead in agony. Crimson blood trickled through her fingers, staining half her face and the front of her clean white dress.

Right in front of her, Weston was roaring frantically at the nurse station.

"Where is the doctor?! Daphne cut her finger on a piece of paper! Why hasn't anyone treated her yet?!"

In the vision, the future me reached out a trembling hand, trying to tug at Weston's sleeve.

"Weston, I feel so dizzy. Please, could you just look at my wound..."

Just minutes earlier, Daphne had called claiming she was afraid of the dark, and Weston had rushed to leave in the middle of the night.

I had only tried to stop him out of concern for his safety, but he shoved me aside so hard that my temple struck the sharp edge of the coffee table.

Hearing my plea, Weston violently shook my hand away, sending me crashing to the floor.

There was no warmth left in his eyes, only a bottomless pit of cold disgust.

"Josie, how long are you going to keep up this pathetic act?"

"Daphne is a concert pianist! Do you have any idea how precious her hands are? You have thick skin, so stop crying over a few drops of blood!"

He brushed his sleeve in irritation, as if my touch had contaminated him.

"Get lost and go bandage it yourself. Don't terrify Daphne with that miserable face of yours."

In that moment, an overwhelming surge of phantom pain ripped through me.

It was not just the sting of torn skin, but the agonizing sensation of having my heart ripped straight out of my chest.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my throat.

Being treated like worthless trash by the person I loved most shredded my soul into pieces.

When I snapped back to reality, Weston was holding my face between his warm hands, looking deeply concerned.

"Jo! What happened? Why are you suddenly so pale?"

"Do you have a headache? Are you hurting somewhere?"

The warmth in his palms was real, and the worry in his eyes was undeniable. He seemed like a completely different person from the monster in the vision.

Yet the phantom pain still made my body tremble uncontrollably.

Looking at the boy who seemed to cherish me above all else, I argued desperately inside my head.

He loved me! That jerk in the vision could not possibly be him!

The present Weston worried himself sick if I so much as frowned, and he did not even know anyone named Daphne!

I had to prove it was a lie.

I had to prove Weston would never change.

After class that afternoon, I sat on the bleachers by the track field, swinging my legs and pouting at him.

"Weston, I really crave those glazed cinnamon pecans from Downtown."