His Second Chance, Her Regret

His Second Chance, Her Regret

Gavin

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I woke up in a hotel suite, still in my tuxedo, on my wedding day, October 12th, 2014. My fiancée, Sarah Jenkins, stood before me, her face pale, telling me to get out. The jarring part was that in my memory, Sarah was dead. She had died ten years later, throwing herself in front of me during a car crash, her last words a plea for me to "live well." This was our wedding day, ten years in the past, a second chance. I knew why I was here. I had spent a decade consumed by regret, forcing Sarah into a loveless marriage for a business deal. I later discovered her diary, filled with her true love for Mark Johnson, something she never had for me. After her death, I yearned to undo my mistakes. A locket, sold to me by a strange old man, promised a way to fix a great regret. Now, I was back. The voice from the locket echoed in my mind, "Her death is a fixed point. Unless her three great regrets are undone, the end will remain the same." I knew those regrets: not fighting for Mark, giving up her music, and Mark's car accident, which had happened a year into our miserable marriage. To start, I crossed my name off the marriage certificate and wrote Mark Johnson's in its place. Sarah's call came shortly after: Mark was in an accident. My blood ran cold, she accused me, "This is your fault! You did this!" She demanded I fix it because his rare blood type matched mine. Bleeding myself dry for her, I watched Sarah's rage turn to tearful accusation, "You did this, Ethan! So you're going to fix it!" I thought she understood my sacrifice for her and Mark's happiness. But as I collapsed from donating double the amount of blood, she screamed, "Cutting his brake lines... Ethan, that was monstrous!" She believed I was the one who sabotaged Mark's car. I had tried to save her, but instead, I became the villain. I chose to disappear from her life. The locket's work was done; I had erased her regrets. Now, only my own new life remained.

Introduction

I woke up in a hotel suite, still in my tuxedo, on my wedding day, October 12th, 2014. My fiancée, Sarah Jenkins, stood before me, her face pale, telling me to get out.

The jarring part was that in my memory, Sarah was dead. She had died ten years later, throwing herself in front of me during a car crash, her last words a plea for me to "live well." This was our wedding day, ten years in the past, a second chance.

I knew why I was here. I had spent a decade consumed by regret, forcing Sarah into a loveless marriage for a business deal. I later discovered her diary, filled with her true love for Mark Johnson, something she never had for me. After her death, I yearned to undo my mistakes. A locket, sold to me by a strange old man, promised a way to fix a great regret. Now, I was back.

The voice from the locket echoed in my mind, "Her death is a fixed point. Unless her three great regrets are undone, the end will remain the same." I knew those regrets: not fighting for Mark, giving up her music, and Mark's car accident, which had happened a year into our miserable marriage.

To start, I crossed my name off the marriage certificate and wrote Mark Johnson's in its place. Sarah's call came shortly after: Mark was in an accident. My blood ran cold, she accused me, "This is your fault! You did this!"

She demanded I fix it because his rare blood type matched mine. Bleeding myself dry for her, I watched Sarah's rage turn to tearful accusation, "You did this, Ethan! So you're going to fix it!" I thought she understood my sacrifice for her and Mark's happiness. But as I collapsed from donating double the amount of blood, she screamed, "Cutting his brake lines... Ethan, that was monstrous!" She believed I was the one who sabotaged Mark's car.

I had tried to save her, but instead, I became the villain. I chose to disappear from her life. The locket's work was done; I had erased her regrets. Now, only my own new life remained.

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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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