From Torment to Triumph

From Torment to Triumph

Gavin

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For seven years, my husband Jake, a firefighter captain, made our home a tomb. He blamed me for his high school sweetheart Chloe's death in a wildfire, a fire where he "saved" me only because I was pregnant with his son. His constant accusations and cold silence were a living hell. Then, he announced he was using the "Second Chance Program"-an experimental time travel initiative-to go back to that fire. "I have to save her," he said, and with those words, he was erasing our entire life. His final jab, "Why would I have saved you if I didn't worry Chloe would be judged?" echoed the universal blame I already carried. In the rewritten timeline, the nightmare only deepened. He chose Chloe, ran me over with his truck, causing a miscarriage, and then left me bleeding in the inferno. He prioritized Chloe's dog's 'trauma' over my injuries, dismissed my pain as 'faking it,' and starved me, literally taking bread from my tray to feed Chloe's endless demands. How could the man who swore to protect me become this cruel stranger, constantly choosing a manipulating ghost over his wife and unborn child? And then he asked, "How do I even know it's mine?"-a gut-wrenching accusation for a baby already gone. That was the breaking point. I left, clutching the divorce papers he unknowingly signed, determined to use the very same time travel program. Not to fix him, not to save us, but to save myself from the blame, and find a life of my own. My second chance was finally for me.

Introduction

For seven years, my husband Jake, a firefighter captain, made our home a tomb.

He blamed me for his high school sweetheart Chloe's death in a wildfire, a fire where he "saved" me only because I was pregnant with his son.

His constant accusations and cold silence were a living hell.

Then, he announced he was using the "Second Chance Program"-an experimental time travel initiative-to go back to that fire.

"I have to save her," he said, and with those words, he was erasing our entire life.

His final jab, "Why would I have saved you if I didn't worry Chloe would be judged?" echoed the universal blame I already carried.

In the rewritten timeline, the nightmare only deepened.

He chose Chloe, ran me over with his truck, causing a miscarriage, and then left me bleeding in the inferno.

He prioritized Chloe's dog's 'trauma' over my injuries, dismissed my pain as 'faking it,' and starved me, literally taking bread from my tray to feed Chloe's endless demands.

How could the man who swore to protect me become this cruel stranger, constantly choosing a manipulating ghost over his wife and unborn child?

And then he asked, "How do I even know it's mine?"-a gut-wrenching accusation for a baby already gone.

That was the breaking point.

I left, clutching the divorce papers he unknowingly signed, determined to use the very same time travel program.

Not to fix him, not to save us, but to save myself from the blame, and find a life of my own.

My second chance was finally for me.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

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4.0

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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