The screech of tires, the violent crush of metal-that' s how it ended.
Next to me, my husband David, dying, whispered: "I… I wish I'd never met you."
Ten years of my life, a decade of one-sided love, erased by his final, brutal regret, echoing a ghost named Emily White.
Then, darkness swallowed me whole.
I woke up on a university lawn, young again, dressed in a simple white dress I hadn't seen in a decade.
And there he was: David Chen, proposing, the king of campus, holding that familiar velvet box.
My heart, once soaring at this moment, was now a block of ice.
I closed my architecture textbook with a soft snap.
"No," I said, the word cutting through the expectant air.