Chapter 4
I gripped my phone, my fingertips turning cold, a sense of absurdity clogging my chest.
Something I’d done recently must have reached my parents‘ cars.
Honestly, I didn’t think I’d done anything that outrageous.
At least, compared to what Hunter had done to me, it was nothing.
All I’d done was smash the car he bought for his mistress on the day I found out about the affair.
All I’d done was storm into his company and wreck his office in front of his employees.
Or the time I learned he was attending a charity gala with his lover–I’d put on the most eye–catching red dress and
followed them there, slapping both him and the woman beside him hard across the face in full view of everyone.
I thought humiliating him, stripping him of his dignity, would make him understand that betrayal came with
consequences.
But I was wrong.
In his world–in his social circle–cheating was an unspoken “privilege.”
No one condemned him for it.
They just looked at me with pity or mockery, then patted Hunter on the shoulder and advised him,
“Just divorce her. Why stay married to a crazy woman?”
I didn’t want a divorce.
So my so–called “madness” became his excuse to cheat even more brazenly.
He stopped coming home at night.
He deliberately let traces of other women linger on him to provoke me.
Since he couldn’t control me, he exaggerated everything and told my parents instead.
He knew their values and their weak spots far too well.
So he used them as weapons against me, letting them pressure me, discipline me, force me to “face reality.” So when
their voices came through the phone again, delivering yet another round of so called “advice.” All the anger and
resentment I’d been bottling up finally exploded
I snapped into the receiver, my voice sharp:
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“What do you mean it’s normal to have a few mistresses?! He cheated! He betrayed our marriage! And he’s still somehow
in the right?!”
“What the hell do you know?!” The voice on the other end shot up. “You ungrateful little brat–you were born with cheap luck! Landing a man like Hunter is the kind of once in a lifetime break most people never get. And you still have the
nerve to complain?”
I’m telling you–if you dare make trouble again, if you dare bring up divorce or grievances one more time, we’ll act like
we never had a daughter like you! Your father and I will treat you as if you’re dead!”
“Disgusting! You have a perfectly good life, yet you insist on making a mess of it!”
They hung up the phone immediately.
My hands shook as I set the phone down on the table.
My body trembled uncontrollably.
It felt like a massive stone was pressing down on my chest–heavy, suffocating, impossible to breathe under.
Two lifetimes.
In my last life. I’d listened. I’d chosen endurance.
In this one, I’d thought rebirth meant release–a fresh start.
The words from the people closest to me still cut deep into the same old wound Only deeper.
Two lifetimes‘ worth of grievances, the suffocating loneliness of never being understood, the venomous accusations
hurled by those closest to me…
All of it surged up at once, choking me from the inside. Everyone said Hunter was young and successful.
Men–especially rich men–having a few women on the side was “normal.”
But who even remembers?
Back when he was starting his business, hitting walls everywhere, when his cash flow was on the brink of collapse?
It was me who took out every penny I’d saved after years of scrimping and saving at work and placed it in front of him
without a word.
I’d comforted him, saying. “If we lose it, we lose it. I can always earn more.”
Back then, we ate instant noodles in a cramped rental apartment.
He’d held my hand, his eyes brighter than the stars, and sworn he’d never betray me in this lifetime.
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I picked up my wine glass and walked barefoot to the floor–to–ceiling window.
Outside, the city glittered–lights flowing like a galaxy.
The provocation from Hunter’s mistress on Instagram hadn’t hurt me.
But my parents‘ repeated “it’s for your own good” felt like a dull blade, slowly sawing through my heart.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I tilted my head back and blinked hard, trying to force the heat away.
I raised the glass and drained it in one go–the sharp burn followed by a long, lingering bitterness.
So what if I picked the wrong.person? Admitting my own poor judgment back then isn’t that hard. It was okay.
In my last life, I’d been possessed, tying all my worth to one man.
I’d lost myself and lost completely.
This time, as long as I didn’t make the same stupid mistake again, that was enough.
“Penny,” I murmured to the traffic outside the window, my voice hoarse, slow, deliberate,
“I give you permission to get hurt in love.”
“I give you permission to open your heart and realize you loved the wrong person.”
“I give you permission to feel wronged when your family doesn’t understand, to let the tears come.”
“I give you permission to cry, to break down, to just be sad and fragile in this moment.”
Then I curled up, hugging my knees tight, and finally let it all out–sobbing like I’d broken free from every chain that
ever held me. My sobs echoed through the empty living room–ragged, ugly, but utterly real.
I didn’t know how long I cried until I was completely exhausted, and only faint sobs remained.
I lifted my head, my face streaked with tears, my voice nasal.
“Go ahead and cry. It’s not a big deal.”
Side, the city lights still shone brilliantly.
Just as I was on the verge of being swallowed by sorrow, my phone rang.
I jolted, as if waking from a dream.
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I stumbled toward the table, fumbling as I grabbed the phone.
The screen’s light stabbed painfully into my swollen eyes.
I didn’t want anyone to hear how wrecked I was.
I sniffed hard, wiped my face messily with my sleeve, then grabbed the water glass on the table and gulped down a large
mouthful.
After clearing my throat, I finally pressed answer.
“Hello?”
“Penny!” My friend’s voice came through the line. “Have you heard? There’s a high chance of seeing the aurora near
Aurora Falls soon! It’s a rare opportunity–want to go check it out? If we can capture a full set of aurora shots, it’d be
amazing!”
The aurora…
As a photographer, chasing and freezing the beauty of the world was both instinct and calling.
Partly to prove my skills, partly to preserve fleeting moments of wonder.
In my last life, I’d missed the aurora to hold on to my marriage with Hunter–and after that, I missed so many other
beautiful sights as well.
At the thought, my heart clenched.
“Absolutely!” I blurted out, my voice bright and urgent. “I’m in! I’ll book the tickets right now!”
Chapter 4
