Chapter 2

The next few days were a blur of confusion and a growing, sickening certainty.

I found out Mark hadn't just reincarnated with me. He' d been back for two whole years.

Two years.

He' d used that time, not to find me, not to rebuild what we lost, but to chase a ghost from his first life.

His big regret, he' d sometimes mumbled late at night after a few beers, was not going to a fancy business school. He thought it would have made him richer, more important.

Now, he was enrolled in night classes, aiming for that prestigious degree.

And he was pursuing Tiffany Hayes with a fervor that was completely new.

In our first life, Mark was steady, pragmatic, sometimes a little reserved. He wasn' t one for grand gestures.

Our love had been a slow burn, built on shared dreams and quiet companionship.

This Mark, the one courting Tiffany, was a stranger.

He sent her flowers, took her on dates to the nicest restaurant in town, the one we' d only ever talked about going to for a special anniversary.

He was all smiles and charm, showering her with attention.

I saw them around town, him looking at her with an open admiration he' d rarely shown me.

It was like watching a play where one of the actors had forgotten all his old lines and was improvising a new, more exciting role.

I was just a member of the audience, watching him adore someone else.

My thirty years with him, our business built from scratch, our shared struggles and triumphs, felt like a story written in disappearing ink.

He was so focused on Tiffany, on this new life he was crafting, that I barely registered on his radar.

When our paths did cross, at the grocery store or the library, he' d offer a polite, distant nod.

Like I was just another casual acquaintance from our small town.

Tiffany, to her credit, was always friendly enough when she saw me.

"Sarah, hi!" she' d chirp, oblivious to the chasm of shared history between me and the man now fawning over her.

She was self-absorbed, yes, but not malicious. Just living in her own bright, shiny world.

Mark, though, his indifference was a constant, dull ache.

He was rewriting our past by ignoring it, and it felt like he was erasing me along with it.

His ambition, once a quiet drive that helped us build our little company, was now a loud, desperate clamor for something more, something he clearly thought Tiffany represented.

A better life. A more glamorous life.

A life without me.