Chapter 2

2.

Twelve years.

Memories of my past life rushed back like a tide.

We had crashed on a snow-covered Interstate 70. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the summer after graduation.

I was eighteen, and so was he.

He kissed me for the first time under the Brooklyn Bridge and wrote a song for me called Eyes Don't Lie.

In my last life, we went from high school sweethearts to husband and wife.

He wanted to be the next Bob Dylan, and I dreamed of being a doctor. Both were incredibly expensive dreams.

So, I gave up my acceptance to Johns Hopkins and enrolled in a nursing program instead, supporting us both on a tiny salary.

He was rejected by record labels again and again, sinking into depression and alcohol.

I would drag my tired body back to our tiny studio in Brooklyn every day, only to have to soothe his fragile ego.

In seven years of marriage, we were as distant as polite roommates.

When I finally worked up the courage to ask, "Shawn, can we have a baby? Can we build a real family?" he pushed me away, his eyes filled with disgust.

"With what money? And I told you from the beginning I never wanted kids. Why can't you just accept that?"

In that moment, the last spark of hope in my eyes died.

Only later did I find out that my so-called loving husband had always been hung up on the high school "queen bee"―Chloe, the one girl he could never have.

After I was reborn, I decided to let him have her.

We quietly unfriended each other on social media, kept our distance, and chose completely different paths in life.

And now, twelve years had passed.

"Shawn, you're a damn legend!" a male classmate cheered, holding up a glass of whiskey. "The youngest hedge fund manager on Wall Street! Forbes did a whole feature on you last month!"

"Yeah," another chimed in. "I heard the old money families in Greenwich are lining up to have you as their investment advisor. Your consulting fee alone is six figures!"

Shawn looked tenderly at Chloe in his arms, a polished smile on his face. "Thanks, everyone. Actually, I have some good news to share―Chloe and I are engaged. We're planning an engagement party at the Plaza for Christmas."

"Oh my god!" The room erupted in squeals.

Someone piped up, "Wait, weren't you and Sarah the 'it' couple in high school? I remember that song you wrote for her!"

"But I guess we haven't seen much of Sarah since graduation."

"Yeah, she never comes to anything. I wonder if she'll even show up tonight."