The day I ended up in the ER, coughing up blood, Ronald got engaged to his precious first love.

I called him three times. I couldn’t get that surgery without his signature, but he just declined every call.

The pain in my stomach was tearing me apart. I laughed bitterly, "Five years of marriage, and this is how heartless you are..."

At noon, the big screen blared with their engagement footage—fireworks, cheers, loud music—while I lay there alone, dying on an operating table.

In that foggy haze, I suddenly heard someone shouting my name.

"Isabella, Isabella, wake up!"

I snapped my eyes open, still feeling that suffocating pain all over me. Turning my head, I saw Sophia Harrison standing by the bed, face full of scolding.

"Isabella, if your stomach's not that bad anymore, you really should go home. Today’s your anniversary with Ronald!"

"I bought some ingredients. Go bake him a cake—he’ll be super happy!"

Looking at her all bright-eyed and eager, I froze. I grabbed my phone, glanced at the date—2025. I’m... back?

Exactly this day in my previous life, I was out shopping with my cousin Sophia, getting ready for my first wedding anniversary with Ronald. I had a sudden stomach attack on the street, passed out, and ended up in the ER.

The hospital contacted Ronald, but he never came.

Back then, I told myself he was just busy. I made excuses for him and still went home with a smile to bake that cake. I waited all night. He never showed.

I took a deep breath, eyes sharp.

No way I’m playing the lovesick fool again. This time, it’s Ronald’s turn.

I did decide to go home, but not for him—just because I hate hospitals.

Last life, I died from late-stage stomach cancer. I suffered so much in that place, now just the smell of antiseptic turns my stomach.

Sophia didn’t notice anything weird. She helped me down the corridor, chattering about what kind of cake Ronald might like.

I just walked quietly beside her.

Then, out of nowhere, a stunning woman in a lab coat walked past us, speaking gently with a patient in a hospital gown.

She had this serene smile, calm and gracious. Really gentle.

My eyes locked on her, and for a moment, I spaced out.

She was the one Ronald could never forget. His so-called true love.

I’d only ever seen her in photos before. Seeing her in person—yeah, she was gorgeous and sweet. Even I could understand why she left such a mark on him. No wonder he was so obsessed, willing to do anything to have her.

Whatever I was supposed to get as Ronald Wright’s wife, she got it all—tenfold.

All except the title. That’s the one thing I held onto, because my dumb pride just couldn’t let go.

I loved him way too deep. For five years, I lost myself in that love. Gave him everything, clung to him like he was my whole world.

I even once took a knife to my throat just to make him stay.

He just gave me this look—full of pure disdain. "Isabella, cut the act. If you’ve really got the nerve, die. I’ll make sure you get the fanciest coffin money can buy."

Then he walked out the door. I collapsed on the floor, crying.

I didn’t slash my throat, though.

I went for my wrist instead—because that way, I could feel the pain a bit longer.I held onto a tiny hope—what if he didn't leave completely? What if he came back soon, felt guilty seeing I hurt myself, and started treating me better?

If he came back, I’d let the past go and just live happily ever after with him.

But I passed out from the blood loss before I saw anything else.

When I came to, I was in the hospital.

I was so relieved, I rushed to ask the nurse if my husband brought me here.

She just shook her head and said it was Linda Smith, our housekeeper, who found me while doing her usual cleaning. Ronald never even showed up.

That same day, I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer. Not long after, I died alone in that hospital room.

"Hey Isa, what are you zoning out for? Hurry up, Ronald's getting off work soon."

Sophia’s voice abruptly yanked me back from those memories. The girl he loved was long gone—now it was just Sophia, standing there, pouting.

"Sophia, do you seriously mean it when you say congratulations?"

Sophia blinked, caught off guard, but quickly put on a confident face. "Of course I do."

I stared at her doll-like face that screamed naïveté. All I could do inside was scoff.

Yeah right, if she really cared, she wouldn’t be bugging me to bake a cake when I clearly wasn’t feeling well.

She had a thing for Ronald. Always had. I was just the excuse she needed to stay close to him. I knew this in my last life too, but back then, I stayed quiet for the sake of family.

But now? I’m done pretending. I’m not keeping up appearances anymore. Let it all fall apart.

I yanked my hand away from hers, my face iced over.

"He’s not coming home tonight. I’m not baking anything. So keep your congratulations. Go do whatever you want."

Sophia stared at me like I’d just slapped her. Shock written all over her face.

"What’s wrong with you, Isa? Why are you so mad all of a sudden?"

My dad always told me to be the bigger person, let my little cousin win. So I rarely threw fits at her.

But now? I gave her a calm smile.

"Mad? Nah. My stomach’s killing me and you’re still pushing me to bake. Anyone else would think you were the one excited for our anniversary."

Her expression instantly darkened. There was a flicker of guilt in her eyes, though her voice stayed stubborn. "Jeez, can’t I crave cake without getting accused? Whatever, if you're feeling sick, I’ll just head home. No need to bite my head off."

And with that, she turned and stormed off, face tight with annoyance.

I couldn’t be bothered. Honestly, her drama didn’t affect me anymore.

I dragged my aching body back to that huge, empty house.

Back in the first year of our marriage, I was all about the romance. Thought it'd be just the two of us, no need for a maid. Never expected Ronald to pretty much live elsewhere, and I'd end up in this mansion all by myself.

Now, of course, there was still no one here to cook for me.

I forced myself to heat up a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Just something warm to calm the sharp pain in my gut.

It worked. My stomach finally didn’t feel like it was at war with me.

Last lifetime, I couldn’t keep any food down. Even something as simple as this plain canned soup tasted like heaven now. I couldn’t help but sigh, "Being healthy really is the best."

Seriously, stay away from love—it only brings misery. Makes you so miserable you can’t even enjoy eating.

This second chance? I’m gonna protect it. No way I’m repeating the past.

Bowl empty, I stood up to do the dishes. That’s when a man in a suit stepped into the dining room, his face cold as ice.

I froze. That face was all too familiar.

Ronald?

He disappeared for a whole night in my past life. So what’s he doing back now? And with zero warning?