"No..."

Vivian Montgomery jerked upright, panic written all over her face. Her eyes darted around, but everything was pitch‑black.

She shut her eyes for a moment, letting them adjust. When she opened them again, the faint moonlight slipping through the window helped her make out her surroundings. Only then did she realize she was sitting on that same old hospital bed she remembered too well.

There was another bed beside her. Too dark to see who was on it.

She pressed her palm against the bedding beneath her. The solid, familiar feel told her this wasn’t a dream.

The more she could touch and feel, the more unsettled—and strangely greedy—she became, taking in every detail of the room as if afraid it would vanish.

To make sure she wasn’t imagining things, Vivian slipped her feet into her cloth shoes and padded toward the door, following the dim silver glow from outside. She spotted a pull‑cord for the light, reached up, and gave it a tug. Warm orange light flooded the room.

With the room brightened, she finally saw the person sleeping soundly on the other bed—and her breath hitched.

Marcus Thornfield.

The man she had thought she’d never see again.

A burst of joy hit her first, sharp and unexpected… but then all the mess between them came rushing back, weighing her down with guilt and something that felt a lot like regret.

She quietly sat down beside Marcus’s bed, still unsure if this was a dream or some memory she had buried too deep. All she could do was stare at his familiar face, drinking in every line as her thoughts drifted back to the past.

Her name was Vivian Montgomery, twenty‑three. Five years ago, to avoid being sent down to the countryside, she’d married Marcus, who was already a company commander at the time. The next year, she gave birth to their son, Ethan Thornfield.

To everyone else, they looked like a happy little family. Only she knew how hollow it felt.

Marcus was always busy, never home, and even when he was, he carried that stiff, straight‑laced air she could never warm up to. In her mind, they were just two people cooperating to get through life.

Back then, plenty of couples were like that, and she hadn’t thought anything was wrong with it. Later, Marcus pulled some strings and got her a nursing job at the military hospital.

She’d gotten used to the rough, careless types in the barracks, so when she started working at the hospital, she immediately noticed a doctor there—Jasper Hutchinson, gentle-looking, black‑rimmed glasses, very different from the men she saw every day. From then on, her head was full of him.

Using work as an excuse, she paid a neighbor five yuan to watch Ethan while she practically lived at the hospital, just for a chance to catch another glimpse of Jasper.

Of course, people back then kept to the rules. No matter how much she liked him, she only watched from afar—she never crossed any lines with him.

Then Marcus came back from a mission severely injured, facing possible discharge and a future of farming back home.

She had married a soldier so she could avoid being sent down to the fields. The thought of returning to the countryside—spending her life bent over dirt—made her panic.

Marcus had barely crawled back from the edge of death when she started making a fuss, insisting on a divorce so she could stay at the hospital and keep her job.

Marcus Thornfield was a man who wouldn’t bow his head. When he saw that Vivian Montgomery had made up her mind, he didn’t drag things out. He agreed to the divorce almost right away—only asked for one thing: their son had to stay with him.

Back then she felt light as air. No burden, no kid to hold her back. She didn’t even think twice before signing the papers.

And just as she finished the divorce, Jasper Hutchinson’s wife suddenly died of illness.

Jasper was single again, and that fire simmering in her chest finally burst out. Not long after, the two of them just started going around together, bold as anything.

She thought she’d finally gotten what she wanted. Who’d imagine Jasper was nothing but a monster dressed like a gentleman? Looked proper on the outside, but inside he was worse than a beast—bad mood meant hitting his wife, and his first wife had literally been beaten to death by him.

Jasper was exactly that kind of brute. A slap here, a punch there—became routine. Every few days he’d beat her within an inch of her life, and she never had a moment of peace.

It wasn’t until now that she finally understood. Some men look rough, but they’ve got careful hearts. And some look polished and gentle, yet underneath they’re rotten to the core.

But what good was regret now?

Half a year later, she ran into Marcus and their boy again. Some village doctor had fixed his leg, he’d gone back to the army, and he’d even remarried. The three of them looked like a real happy family.

Seeing them standing there, all warm and whole, she felt like she was drowning in a mud pit—no matter how she struggled, she could never climb out. Before they could even say hello, she turned and bolted.

Blame herself. Happiness had been right in her hands, and she’d tossed it aside to chase after a scumbag. Now she could only watch from far away while Marcus’s new family lived well.

Maybe people always think what they can’t have is the most precious. Ever since then, she’d sneak around just to catch a glimpse of that family of three.

She thought she’d be stuck living like this for the rest of her life. But then Jasper showed his true cruelty—when she was five months pregnant, he beat her so badly she lost her life along with the child.

Only then did she realize she had been living inside a book. Marcus was the male lead, and she was the expendable first wife who died early just to make the heroine look better.

After reading it all, she finally understood—on the outside the heroine seemed soft and sweet, but inside she was calculating as anything.

While Marcus was injured and couldn’t go out, she forced her way into the Thornfield home every single day whether they liked it or not, and went around telling everyone that she and Marcus were already promised to each other and would be married soon.

Marcus was stuck indoors and had no idea what kind of rumors were running wild outside. By the time he learned about it, things were already out of control.

For the girl’s reputation, he had no choice but to marry her.

After the wedding, she acted like she took great care of Marcus and his boy, but behind closed doors she bullied the child constantly, trying every trick to ruin him. By his teens he was always getting into fights, and in the end the heroine even set him up—he killed someone.

Reading about her son’s fate, Vivian’s soul spat out a mouthful of blood. The blood splashed onto the little green stone hanging on her chest.

And just like that… she came back.

Thinking back to what had happened, Vivian Montgomery instinctively reached for her neck and pulled out the teardrop‑shaped green pendant from under her collar.

In her last life she’d found the thing on the roadside. It looked pretty enough, so she’d threaded a red cord through it and worn it every day. Who would’ve thought it’d still be with her after she came back?

Standing in that bare, worn‑out hospital room, looking at Marcus Thornfield sleeping soundly on the bed, then at the pendant in her hand, Vivian’s eyes instantly welled up.

“Hey, Master, didn’t you always say you wished you could go back and fix everything? I, Pebbles, burned through all my strength to bring you back, and now you’re crying?”

A soft, childish voice popped out of nowhere, scaring Vivian half to death.

She whipped her head around, searching for where the voice came from, but saw absolutely nothing.

Rumor had it this hospital had been around since before liberation, and Lord knew how many people had died here. Now it was the middle of the night—what if she’d bumped into… something?

The thought alone made her glance again at Marcus Thornfield’s face, pale as a sheet under the dim light. A shiver ran down her spine. She tried to bolt, fumbling to get her legs moving, but they felt heavy as stone.

“Master, it’s me, Pebbles… don’t be scared…”

That tiny, milky voice came again, clearly worried.

The first time she’d heard it, she’d forced herself to believe she’d misheard. But hearing it a second time, crisp and distinct, Vivian knew it wasn’t her imagination. Panic washed over her even harder.

She cast one more look at Marcus Thornfield lying there like a ghost, then thought of that voice from nowhere, and let out a sharp “Ah!” She covered her head with her arms and dashed out the door.

She had no idea what time it was. The hallway lights were on, but dim and yellow, and not a single person was in sight. Her footsteps echoed down the empty corridor, making everything feel even creepier.

“Master, don’t run… you might fall…”

That childish voice chased right after her.

Vivian took off even faster.

The gloom pressing in on all sides made her chest tighten. She tried to turn back, heart pounding, but didn’t see someone up ahead hobbling forward on crutches. She crashed straight into him.

“Ah—!”

Already scared out of her wits by the mysterious kid’s voice, the sudden collision sent Vivian yelping as she landed hard on the floor.

She looked up and realized she’d hit a man. He was tall and solid‑built, though she couldn’t make out his face in the dim light. His left leg was in a cast, and both hands were gripping a pair of crutches.

Seeing an actual living person appear out of nowhere made the heart that had been trying to leap out of her chest settle back down bit by bit.

“What happened to you?”

The man looked down at her, confused, and spoke.