In the twilight of our eighth year together, I stepped in front of a blade aimed at my doctor boyfriend, Ethan Moore.

In the aftermath, he said, "You can ask for anything. Anything at all."

The onlookers, a crowd of curious faces, whispered among themselves. They assumed I'd seize the moment to force a proposal, to demand the ring that had always seemed just out of reach.

But with a serene composure, I merely stated,

"Let's break up."

And with that, I pivoted on my heel and strode away.

Ethan, with a contemptuous smirk, wagered with the crowd.

"A simp like her is just doing it for attention. I bet, within three days, she'll come back around and plead for my forgiveness. Just you wait..."

His words dripped with arrogance, a reflection of the man I had once idolized.

He was utterly mistaken. For I harbored a secret—I had been granted a second lease on life.

In my previous life, I had maneuvered Ethan into proposing, thinking that would secure my place in his heart. But his true love, driven to despair, had leaped from a rooftop, ending her life in a tragic swan dive.

His wrath, once a simmering fire, became an inferno.

On our wedding night, he marred my face with a blade, etching scars into my skin that mirrored the wounds in my soul.

He confined me in a dark, enclosed basement, a cell of my own making.

When I got pregnant, he compelled me to ingest excessive amounts of tonics everyday.

By the time I was due, the baby had grown too large for me to endure the birth. My body, a frail vessel, could not withstand the strain.

Ultimately, I perished from a catastrophic hemorrhage during labor, my life ebbing away like the final notes of a symphony.

Reborn, I found myself back on the very day I had taken the knife for Ethan.

The memories of my past life were a heavy cloak, but I wore them with a newfound resolve.

This time, I shall grant him his heart's desire.

1

Surgical Doctor's Office.

The sharp sting in my arm jolted me back to reality, the cold antiseptic seeping into my wound, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded just moments before.

The nurse, her fingers deft and gentle, finished wrapping the last layer of bandages around my injury.

Her voice was a soothing whisper, a contrast to the turmoil within me, as she reminded me not to let the wound get wet for the next few days.

Ethan, lounging casually in the office chair, scoffed with an air of nonchalance.

"It's just a scratch. Why are you acting so fragile?"

I remained silent, my gaze fixed on the sterile tiles beneath my feet.

The other doctors exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mosaic of concern and discomfort.

They had all witnessed the frenzy of the incident.

The assailant had been a recently released thug, a hulking figure with a face marred by scars, each one a testament to a life steeped in brutality.

The fruit knife he had wielded was a crude instrument of destruction, its blade glinting ominously as it sliced through the air.

The gash it left on my arm was deep and jagged, requiring over twenty stitches to close.

The thug's original target had been Ethan's heart.

My silence seemed to infuriate Ethan further.

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths, and his once handsome face hardened into an icy mask.

He snapped, his voice sharp and unforgiving, "Alice, don't be so dramatic. I told you, you saved my life, so you can ask for anything in return. Is that not enough for you? Why are you giving me that look?"

His words cut through the air, each syllable a dagger aimed at my heart.

How had our childhood friendship and romantic relationship, once a sanctuary of shared dreams and whispered secrets, devolved into this?

Now, it felt as though he were a distant star, his light reserved for another.

His tenderness, once a lifeline for me, had been redirected to Fiona Dent-the orphan he supported during flood relief efforts.

Her name was a constant echo in his conversations, a reminder of his newfound devotion.

I tore my gaze away from the pink bunny hair tie on his wrist, a simple accessory that spoke volumes about his feelings for her.

A pang of bitterness swelled in my chest, threatening to choke me.

I looked up at him, forcing a smile, though my heart felt like it was being wrung out.

"'Any' request, huh?"

Ethan hesitated, his usual confidence faltering as he was caught off guard by my question.

His eyes flickered to the hair tie, a fleeting flash of panic crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a scowl.

Ethan ground his teeth in irritation but finally nodded, his voice tinged with resignation.

"Yeah, anything."

The other doctors in the office immediately perked up at his admission.

"Com'on, Dr. Moore, just man up and give in to her!" one of them called out, laughter erupting around the room.

"Yeah, Dr. Moore, after eight years, it's about time you two tie the knot!" another joked, their words a cruel reminder of the years I had spent waiting, hoping.

"I've got your wedding gift all set; just tell me when the party is!" a third added, their laughter ringing in my ears.

As their teasing washed over me, I felt a surge of determination to break free from the chains of my unrequited love.

But before I could speak, a young nurse burst into the room, her face pale with fear.

"It's bad! Ms. Dent is trying to kill herself!" she gasped, her words cutting through the laughter like a knife.

The room fell silent, the gravity of the situation slamming into us all at once. The lighthearted teasing was replaced by a somber urgency. In an instant, the focus shifted from the chaos of our personal lives to the stark reality of a life hanging in the balance.

......

Suicide. Again.

If my calculations were correct, this was Fiona's one-hundred-and-eighth suicide attempt.

She didn't change a bit from last life.

Before the nurse could finish, Ethan was already sprinting out the door.

He arrived on the hospital roof, where Fiona stood with red, swollen eyes and a ghostly pale face that somehow managed to look delicate and charming.

The wind whipped through her hair, and she was wearing Ethan's white shirt, the one I had given to him. Her slender, creamy legs peeked out from beneath it.

I suddenly remembered that she was there when the medical incident occurred.

While I was shielding Ethan from the knife, he had wrapped her tightly in his arms for protection.

She had emerged from Ethan's restroom in that very shirt, the one I had gifted him. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Alice took a knife for you. You promised Alice anything she wanted. She loves you so much. She'd definitely propose to you, and you'd say yes, right?

"I'm sorry, Ethan. It hurt too much just to think of losing you forever... I'd rather die."

Tears streamed down Fiona's face, each droplet a sharp pain piercing Ethan's heart.

"Come down first, let me explain," Ethan pleaded, his voice deep with urgency and aching concern.

His hands reached out as if he could pull her back from the edge with just his touch.

Ethan cared for Fiona in every way, his heart a compass always pointing toward her.

He called her a little girl who loved the color pink, so the pink Dior handbag he had bought for me as a birthday gift eventually became her reward for passing her university exams.

She was terrified of thunderstorms. So on countless nights, with just a phone call, Ethan would rush to her side, leaving me to the mercy of the storm.

Even at my grandfather's funeral, when there were no more flights that evening, Ethan erupted in anger at me upon hearing Fiona's sobs through the phone.

"You're lucky I hate the thought of joining that old bastard in hell today." His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving me bleeding from the inside out.

I recalled when Ethan had professed his love to me, promising to always be unconditionally partial toward me. His words had been like honey, sweet and intoxicating.

But when the 26-year-old him met the 18-year-old Fiona, he gave her everything I had used to own. The world tilted on its axis, and I was left clinging to the edge, watching as he fell for her with every fiber of his being.

In my previous life, it was jealousy that clouded my judgment, leading to a tragic end. The green-eyed monster had gnawed at my heart until there was nothing left but bitterness.

This time, I'm done with him for good.