Chapter 2

I slept through the day, lost in a haze of exhaustion, and only stirred awake as evening fell. Golden-orange light from the setting sun spilled across my bedroom floor. A sharp knock rattled my door, followed by Jack Harlan's impatient voice. "Emily Harper! I'm staying in town for med school. My parents sent me to ask what you're planning to do. You're not still thinking about going to Berkeley, are you? What's so great about California? It's way too far from home!" His tone grew sharper with every word. To him, even speaking to me seemed like a burden. When I didn't answer, he pushed the door open without waiting. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face tight with irritation. I'd already steeled myself to let go. But the moment I saw Jack's sunlit face—so familiar, so achingly young—my heart betrayed me. It leapt in my chest, just like it always had. This Jack still had bright eyes, full of restless energy. He didn't yet carry the coldness that would define him in our past life—the life I'd just escaped. Back then, Jack had wanted to stay in Lincoln for medical school because Lily Monroe was studying here. I'd argued he belonged at Berkeley, where his talent would be nurtured. To reassure his parents, I'd listed Berkeley on my own application. That decision had forced Jack's hand—his parents insisted he apply there too. He'd resisted all summer, and the Harlan household had turned icy with tension. Eventually, he'd changed his mind. I never knew why. But now, with the memories of that other life burning in my mind, I understood: even then, he'd already resented me. He blamed me for tearing him away from Lily. "Emily! Are you even listening?" Jack snapped, catching me staring. Impatience flickered in his eyes. "Emily!" I startled back to the present, forcing a tight smile. "Sorry. I was just... thinking. I don't have any big plans. I'll probably stay in Lincoln too." Relief washed over his face. He practically snatched my enrollment form from my hands, watching closely as I filled in the University of Nebraska—Lincoln. When I finished, his shoulders visibly relaxed. "Good," he said, already turning to leave. But he paused at the door. "I'm heading out with some friends. If my parents ask, tell them I'm here with you. Don't say anything else, okay?" I nodded. I knew exactly where he was going—to meet Lily. As I watched him stride away, light-footed and carefree, something inside me loosened. After he disappeared down the street, I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the real application—the one I'd hidden. I glanced at the bold letters: UC Berkeley. Then I tore the fake UNL form into pieces and carefully filled out my study-abroad paperwork instead. I skipped Jack's class reunion that night. He'd thrown it at his family's Omaha estate. From my balcony, I watched the lights flicker next door, laughter drifting through the warm summer air. And there she was—Lily Monroe, Jack's "first love." She stood near the patio fountain, her eyes locked on Jack with tender longing. When the group started chanting, urging him forward, Jack turned red-faced but walked straight to her. In front of everyone, he blurted out his feelings, voice cracking with nerves. I pressed a hand to my chest. My heart ached as if it were being crushed. The next morning, I came downstairs to find Jack sitting stiffly on our living room sofa, flanked by both sets of parents. His expression darkened the moment he saw me. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and yanked me outside. Behind us, Mr. Harlan chuckled warmly. "Look at them—so close already!" Jack's jaw clenched. He turned to me, voice low and sharp. "I have someone I like. Stop pretending you don't know that." Even though I'd sworn to stop loving him, his words still cut deep. Maybe it wasn't just for myself I grieved—but for the woman I'd been in that other life: the one who'd spent forty years waiting by his side, nursing him through illness, raising their child alone, only to be abandoned on her deathbed. I looked at him steadily. In that past life, after we married, his coldness had grown like frost—slow, relentless, suffocating. No matter how hard I tried to bridge the distance, he'd only ever said, "Isn't this what you wanted?" I'd believed love could thaw even the coldest heart. Now I knew better. Some hearts are already promised to someone else. So I said, calm as still water, "I'm not pretending. I'll talk to both our families. I don't like you anymore. Our engagement is over." My voice didn't waver. But inside, it felt like a knife had sliced through my ribs. Cold sweat broke out on my skin. Jack narrowed his eyes, suspicion flashing across his face. "You serious—" His phone rang. The moment he saw the caller's name, his entire demeanor softened. A radiant smile bloomed on his lips—the kind he'd never given me, not even once. That smile hurt more than his words ever could. I swallowed hard, reminding myself: Just two more weeks. Then I'm gone. He tucked the phone away and gave me one last icy glance. "I've got to go. Don't say anything to my parents." I didn't answer. I already knew. He was leaving to be with Lily. Just like last time—when he'd walked out on me, paralyzed and dying in a hospital bed, to comfort her instead.