My husband never liked me.

He’d say I was manipulative and toxic, always pretending to be sick to earn sympathy.

To marry the woman he truly loved, he forced me into a divorce and kicked me out with nothing.

Even when I was dying of cancer, he didn’t spare me a glance.

On the day I died, I couldn’t help but make one last call. My voice trembled as I begged, “Ethan, I’m not gonna make it. Will you come see me?”

He hung up with a cold snort, “Save it for when you’re dead.”

The next day, while my body was being driven to the morgue, his wedding car passed by in the opposite direction.

And then the man who once hated me more than anything threw his bride aside and ran after the hearse like a madman...

Regret? Too late.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Three years earlier.

This time, I’m done. I’m letting go. Ethan Thompson’s world has nothing to do with me anymore.

...

I came to in the middle of a soft, panicked voice. A woman’s.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’ll pay for cleaning your clothes...”

The hotel lobby was bright, lighting up the red wine stain spreading on my chiffon blouse.

Standing in front of me was a younger Natalie Adams with a fair little face, clearly flustered.

This moment—this exact scene—I remembered it so clearly.

The day I first met Natalie.

Last life, she ended up with my husband.

Well—“stole” might not be the right word.

Ethan fell for her first.

He was already running a company at twenty, used to all the lies of the business world. So when someone as pure and sweet as Natalie came along, he went for her hard.

At first, I thought it was just a phase. That he’d lose interest soon enough.

After all, we'd been married for two years, and Ethan was always surrounded by gossip and fleeting crushes. None of his flings had ever lasted more than a couple of months.

But then he started treating her like she hung the moon.

He wanted a divorce—for her.

That’s when I realized even a man like Ethan Thompson had a heart.

Watching him spoil her made something in me snap. I refused to let go.

I’d loved Ethan for eight years. How could I give up that easily?

But he’d made up his mind. No matter how I begged or tried, I couldn't change it.

Not until the moment I died did I finally get it—

I was never going to win.

Because Natalie didn’t have to fight for him—he chose her anyway.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

Snapping out of it, I saw Natalie on the verge of tears, worried sick about my stained blouse.

I softened my tone. “It’s alright. It’s just some wine. I’ll clean it off in the restroom.”

Last time, when Ethan was pursuing her and she found out he had a wife, she didn’t say yes right away.

She waited until we’d finalized the divorce.

In the end, it was Ethan who hurt me—not Natalie.

So, I had no reason to go after her this time.

Hearing me say it was fine, she nodded quickly, apologized a few more times, then walked off.

As I watched her thin, delicate figure disappear around the corner, I finally understood why Ethan had treated her like she was the only one in the world.

She was that quiet, soft kind of girl that made people want to protect her.

Even I could feel it—how could someone like Ethan not?

After she left, I headed to the restroom to deal with the stain.Just after I tidied up, my phone buzzed—it was a text from one of Ethan Thompson’s buddies, asking where I was.

According to how things had happened before, tonight was when Ethan met Natalie Adams for the first time.

Last time around, this was the night I got a call from Ethan asking me to pick up his tipsy self.

He was always buried in work and rarely home, so I’d been excited to have an excuse to see him.

We came downstairs together, and Natalie, feeling guilty for spilling something on my clothes earlier, was waiting in the lobby with a clean outfit for me.

That was the moment he noticed her.

He took one look and was done for. Totally floored by her. From that point on, it was as if I didn't exist—even as his wife.

I still remember the way he looked at her that night.

Like a predator spotting new prey—hungry, focused, and unstoppable.

Honestly, if I hadn't been there, he might’ve taken her home right then and there.

Thinking about it now, maybe I really did get in the way of their "true love story."

So this time, I didn’t bother chasing after Ethan. I went straight home.

I figured after meeting Natalie, he wouldn’t come back anyway. But around ten p.m., headlights lit up the yard.

Not long after, the front door opened.

He walked in—tall, lean, in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look even sharper.

Young, polished, charming.

The kind of man you’d expect to appear in every girl’s daydream.

No wonder Natalie, a pretty innocent girl, ended up falling head over heels for him even though he was already married before.

A guy like that chasing you? Hard to say no.

His divorce didn’t exactly lower his score, either.

Ethan shrugged off his jacket, and the housekeeper stepped up to take it away.

He loosened his watch and glanced at me, voice flat: “Why didn’t you come get me tonight?”

I was watching TV and didn’t even turn around. “You could’ve just grabbed a cab.”

He frowned. “Dirty.”

Right. Ethan was a neat freak. Never used other people’s stuff. Taxis were basically his nightmare.

I figured he must’ve called his driver last minute to pick him up—the car he took just went past and straight to the garage.

But really, he only has the luxury of being picky right now.

In the last life, during his pursuit of Natalie, he even ate street food—stuff he used to look down on like it was toxic.

When I’d asked him to go out for barbecue with me once, he was all about the smoke and the stink. “Too gross,” he’d said.

Looking back, it wasn’t about germs. He just didn’t care enough.

I wondered if he ran into Natalie tonight. Wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.

While I stood there hesitating, he was already heading upstairs.

I left the TV on for a bit, but couldn’t relax, so I turned it off and went up to our room.

When I walked in, Ethan had showered and was sitting on the bed, towel-drying his hair.

He looked up when our eyes met, put the towel down, and said, “Come here.”

I knew what he meant—he expected me to dry his hair for him.

He’d gotten used to me looking after him. Talked to me like I was some personal maid rather than his wife.

But before this marriage, I used to be spoiled silly.

Over the years, I started losing myself.

This time, I didn't go over. Just stood there.

He must’ve noticed something was off, because he frowned slightly. “Do you want to say something?”

I stood still for a beat, then said calmly, “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.”