At eighty, I lay dying in a sterile hospital room, a life I felt was utterly wasted flashing before my eyes. My wife of sixty years, Olivia Hayes, sat beside me, her stoic composure a familiar mask. Then, her whispered confession shattered everything: "Tell Daniel... I've always loved him." Daniel, her colleague from decades ago. Sixty years of quiet resentment, of being a placeholder, a fool. Rage burned in my dying body-a useless, consuming fire. Then, darkness. Light. Soft blankets. My young mother' s beaming face. It was 1987. I was a baby again, but the memories of my eighty-year life, and Olivia's betrayal, were searing. "Mom," I squeaked, my infant voice unwavering, "I won't marry Olivia Hayes." Years later, at eighteen, the name Olivia was a constant dread. Our families had an arranged engagement, a relic I had accepted in my past life. This time, it was a prison sentence. I saw her with Daniel Lee at the community center, laughing the unguarded laugh I rarely saw in our marriage, her caring gestures confirming the truth. She approached me, that familiar stoic calm in place, perhaps to touch my arm. I stepped back, a deliberate movement. "Are you avoiding me?" she asked, her tone flat. I met her gaze directly. "We should keep our distance, Olivia. It's better for everyone." I walked away. My past life, a suffocating nightmare. This life would be different. This life was for me. I would be free.
At eighty, I lay dying in a sterile hospital room, a life I felt was utterly wasted flashing before my eyes.
My wife of sixty years, Olivia Hayes, sat beside me, her stoic composure a familiar mask.
Then, her whispered confession shattered everything: "Tell Daniel... I've always loved him."
Daniel, her colleague from decades ago.
Sixty years of quiet resentment, of being a placeholder, a fool.
Rage burned in my dying body-a useless, consuming fire.
Then, darkness.
Light. Soft blankets. My young mother' s beaming face.
It was 1987. I was a baby again, but the memories of my eighty-year life, and Olivia's betrayal, were searing.
"Mom," I squeaked, my infant voice unwavering, "I won't marry Olivia Hayes."
Years later, at eighteen, the name Olivia was a constant dread.
Our families had an arranged engagement, a relic I had accepted in my past life.
This time, it was a prison sentence.
I saw her with Daniel Lee at the community center, laughing the unguarded laugh I rarely saw in our marriage, her caring gestures confirming the truth.
She approached me, that familiar stoic calm in place, perhaps to touch my arm.
I stepped back, a deliberate movement.
"Are you avoiding me?" she asked, her tone flat.
I met her gaze directly. "We should keep our distance, Olivia. It's better for everyone."
I walked away. My past life, a suffocating nightmare.
This life would be different. This life was for me.
I would be free.
Introduction
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Chapter 1
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Chapter 2
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Chapter 3
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Chapter 4
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Chapter 5
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Chapter 6
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Chapter 7
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Chapter 8
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Chapter 9
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Chapter 10
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Chapter 11
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Chapter 12
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Chapter 13
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Chapter 14
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Chapter 15
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Chapter 16
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Chapter 17
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Chapter 18
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Chapter 19
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Chapter 20
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Chapter 21
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Chapter 22
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Chapter 23
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Chapter 24
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Chapter 25
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Chapter 26
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Chapter 27
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Chapter 28
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Chapter 29
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Chapter 30
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Chapter 31
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Chapter 32
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Chapter 33
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