The 99th Time We Fell Apart

The 99th Time We Fell Apart

Gavin

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My first life ended alone in a hospital room, not with a bang, but with the quiet hum of an IV. My husband, Ethan Lester, had spent months tearing me down, flaunting an affair, and relentlessly pursuing a divorce. It was only after death, in an empty void, that the shattering truth unfolded: Ethan had pancreatic cancer, a secret burden he bore alone. His cruelty was a desperate, twisted act of love, a brutal attempt to push me away so I wouldn't witness his agonizing decline. He even took his own life after my funeral, convinced I'd find happiness with my ex. Then I woke up, alive, the familiar scent of our apartment filling my lungs. Across from me sat Ethan, divorce papers clutched in his hand, his eyes a mask of indifference. "This is the 99th time, Jocelyn," he said, "Sign them. My girlfriend is pregnant." In my past life, those words broke me. But this time, seeing the subtle tremor in his hand, the deep circles under his eyes, I knew I was facing the same painful charade. Why would he go to such lengths to push me away? What kind of love forces such a cruel deception? I picked up the papers, slowly, deliberately, and tore them in half. I knew his secret. And this time, I wouldn't let him die.

Introduction

My first life ended alone in a hospital room, not with a bang, but with the quiet hum of an IV.

My husband, Ethan Lester, had spent months tearing me down, flaunting an affair, and relentlessly pursuing a divorce.

It was only after death, in an empty void, that the shattering truth unfolded: Ethan had pancreatic cancer, a secret burden he bore alone.

His cruelty was a desperate, twisted act of love, a brutal attempt to push me away so I wouldn't witness his agonizing decline.

He even took his own life after my funeral, convinced I'd find happiness with my ex.

Then I woke up, alive, the familiar scent of our apartment filling my lungs.

Across from me sat Ethan, divorce papers clutched in his hand, his eyes a mask of indifference.

"This is the 99th time, Jocelyn," he said, "Sign them. My girlfriend is pregnant."

In my past life, those words broke me.

But this time, seeing the subtle tremor in his hand, the deep circles under his eyes, I knew I was facing the same painful charade.

Why would he go to such lengths to push me away?

What kind of love forces such a cruel deception?

I picked up the papers, slowly, deliberately, and tore them in half.

I knew his secret.

And this time, I wouldn't let him die.

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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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