Not His Second Choice Anymore

Not His Second Choice Anymore

Gavin

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I woke up in 1982, my 22-year-old body buzzing with memories of a 72-year marriage to Mark Johnson. This was my second chance. Today was the day Mark proposed in our past life, and my heart beat with familiar hope, ready to relive our perfect love story. I found him at the town gathering, my heart leaping. But he wasn't looking for me. Instead, Mark went straight to Bree Thompson, his confident smile fixed on her. Then, loud enough for everyone, he asked her out. My treasured memory, my entire hope, shattered instantly. That perfect marriage, all those cherished moments, felt poisoned. He was reborn too, and he clearly wanted someone else. Public humiliation, malicious accusations, and finally, deliberately snapping my guitar string right before my talent show performance-his cruelty knew no bounds. My beautiful past was ruined. Was our entire 72-year marriage a lie? Was I just a convenient second choice? The rage and disbelief at this changed man consumed me. Why was he so intent on destroying me? Why did he hate the life we' d built? The confusion was a constant ache. But defiance sparked. I sang acapella, winning a demo deal. Enraged, Mark dropped his charade, spewing venom about how I'd held him back. "We're done!" I declared, finally seeing the selfish parasite he always was. This was my true second chance: to embrace my music, my freedom, and my own splendid future.

Introduction

I woke up in 1982, my 22-year-old body buzzing with memories of a 72-year marriage to Mark Johnson.

This was my second chance.

Today was the day Mark proposed in our past life, and my heart beat with familiar hope, ready to relive our perfect love story.

I found him at the town gathering, my heart leaping.

But he wasn't looking for me.

Instead, Mark went straight to Bree Thompson, his confident smile fixed on her.

Then, loud enough for everyone, he asked her out.

My treasured memory, my entire hope, shattered instantly.

That perfect marriage, all those cherished moments, felt poisoned.

He was reborn too, and he clearly wanted someone else.

Public humiliation, malicious accusations, and finally, deliberately snapping my guitar string right before my talent show performance-his cruelty knew no bounds.

My beautiful past was ruined.

Was our entire 72-year marriage a lie?

Was I just a convenient second choice?

The rage and disbelief at this changed man consumed me.

Why was he so intent on destroying me?

Why did he hate the life we' d built?

The confusion was a constant ache.

But defiance sparked.

I sang acapella, winning a demo deal.

Enraged, Mark dropped his charade, spewing venom about how I'd held him back.

"We're done!" I declared, finally seeing the selfish parasite he always was.

This was my true second chance: to embrace my music, my freedom, and my own splendid future.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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