After leaving behind my childhood sweetheart who had cheated on me, I met my destined one, Ryan Cooper.

He cherished me, holding me in the palm of his hand, and even after eight years of marriage, he never changed.

Until the day of our eighth wedding anniversary, when Ryan died in a car accident on his way to see me.

Later, I dug up a time capsule Ryan had buried before our marriage. Inside, there was only a diary, every page filled with his words about me.

I traded my life to return to his past, to accompany him again.

As I wished, I returned to Ryan’s eighteen-year-old self, becoming his childhood friend.

But the condition was that I could never leave Ryan.

Yet, he was hopelessly in love with a girl who looked almost exactly like me.

Whether at eighteen or twenty-eight, Ryan’s love had always belonged to her.

Watching him carefully prepare a confession, I made my decision.

“I want to leave him.”

“Think carefully. If you choose to leave, you’ll vanish from both worlds completely. In seven days, you’ll cease to exist.”

Ryan’s call pulled me out of my hesitation.

“Claire, which college are you applying to? Will it be far from me?”

His concerned voice always reminded me of the twenty-eight-year-old him.

“I’m not sure yet. Do you… want me to stay close to you?”

Ryan thought for a moment before replying.

“Of course. If you’re too far away, who’s going to help me chase after Emily?”

His words hit me like a bucket of cold water, soaking me through.

My smile froze.

“Ryan, if I were to leave—”

Before I could finish, Ryan cut me off.

“Claire, Emily’s calling me. I’ll hang up first. See you at the graduation party tonight.”

The call ended, and I was used to it by now.

I had spent over six years in this world with Ryan, yet almost every time, his first choice was always Emily Carter.

At twenty-eight, I could never understand how someone could remain so devoted in marriage, love unchanged after eight years.

Now I realized—it was because he had once met someone truly dazzling in his youth.

And unfortunately, I had merely become her substitute, nothing more.

Scrolling through Ryan’s social media posts, those hidden from Emily’s view:

“Seems like I’ve fallen a little more in love again.”

“Emily, even though you can’t see this, I still want to say—I really like you.”

“Emily, I’ll grow up faster, so I can give you a home.”

Those words reminded me of the twenty-eight-year-old Ryan.

Every morning, he used to tell me: “I think I love you more than I did yesterday.”

Each post, each word, was like a knife driven into my chest.

Then, Ryan sent me a message:

“Claire, I’m heading out with the driver to pick up Emily. You know how she hates crowded places. So, you’ll have to head to the party venue on your own later. Thanks, buddy.”

The smile tugging at my lips was uglier than tears.

My husband Ryan had never once broken his word. But this Ryan, the eighteen-year-old him, broke his promises to me as if it were routine.

“Okay.”

“Oh, and by the way, Emily’s on her period. If someone tries to get her to drink, you have to drink for her, otherwise she’ll feel awful.”

But I was allergic to alcohol. Ryan at eighteen had already forgotten.

Back in our freshman year of high school, Ryan had stolen a piece of liquor-filled chocolate from home.

That day, my allergy nearly killed me. Ryan sat at my hospital bedside, guilt written all over his face.

Later, I found out—it was meant for Emily, but she hadn’t wanted it.

Ryan’s social media updated again.

“Emily, what kind of confession could ever show you how much I like you?”

I closed my eyes slowly and answered that question.

“I want to leave him…”

“If you’re certain, there’ll be no turning back. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

When I regained consciousness, evening was already approaching.

The party had begun.

My phone buzzed with messages asking when I’d arrive—not a single one from Ryan.

When I finally got to the Karaoke Room, I heard Ryan’s voice from inside.

“My confession plan has to stay secret. I can’t let it fail.”

His tone carried both excitement and anticipation.

“Ryan, haven’t you ever thought about Claire? You two grew up together. I don’t think she’s any worse than Emily.”

Ryan went silent for a while.

“We’re just friends. I could never like her. To me, she’s nothing more than a friend—past, present, or future.”

In that moment, my heart clenched like it was being torn apart.

“Ryan, don’t get ahead of yourself. What if Emily ends up marrying someone else? What would you do then? Find another girl just like her?”

Ryan didn’t respond.

I guessed he took those words to heart—that’s why the me ten years later would exist.

“If you’re not interested in Claire, then I’ll go after her. A girl that good, and you don’t even notice? I’d be more than happy to.”

Ryan chuckled.

“Be my guest. Honestly, after spending so many years with her, I’m kind of tired of it.”

His joke wasn’t funny.

“What are you doing blocking the doorway? Playing thief?”

Emily walked in, her high heels clicking, disdain written on her face.

I shook my head.

She glanced at me, said nothing more, and brushed past me into the room.

“Emily.”

The moment she appeared, Ryan’s eyes only had room for her.

“Emily, you took forever in the bathroom. Claire, you’re here too? You’re late.”

A few friends greeted me casually, but they were quick to arrange Ryan and Emily side by side.

“Let’s play a game!”

Some of our old friends suggested Truth or Dare, that favorite teenage pastime.

The first round landed on Ryan.

He chose truth.

“Is there someone here you like?”

Ryan smiled, sneaking glances at Emily again and again.

“There is.”

Everyone had already seen his lovestruck posts online—they were just teasing.

But I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

The second round landed on Emily.

“You have to pick a dare! Choose a guy here and share a drinking challenge with him!”

Ryan looked at her, his gaze bold and heated.

The same gaze he gave me at our wedding when I was twenty-eight.

Maybe, even then, in his heart, I was no longer me. I was Emily.

Emily chose Ryan.

Their cheeks flushed pink, looking every bit the young couple.

I sat in the corner, a clown peeking at someone else’s happiness.

The third round landed on me.

I couldn’t bring myself to spill my truth, so I picked a dare.

“Choose a guy here and share a cookie stick!”

I glanced nervously at Ryan.

He avoided my eyes, head lowered, fingers busy typing a message.

“Don’t pick me. Emily’s watching.”

Seeing those words on his lock screen, I suddenly felt ridiculous.

The guy beside me nudged me with his elbow.

“You can pick me.”

It was the same boy who had been talking to Ryan earlier—Jason Reed.

I drew a deep breath and pointed at him.

“I’ll pick him.”

Ryan had thought I’d choose to drink instead. He froze, stunned.

As Jason and I leaned closer, Ryan’s bottle slipped from his hand, beer spilling.

He stormed out of the Karaoke Room, and right then, my phone buzzed with his message.

“Come out.”

The moment I stepped outside, Ryan dragged me into a corner.

“Claire Miller, when did you become so shallow? Playing games that far?”

I almost laughed. Now he cared about what I did?

“So what? It was just a game. Didn’t you just do a drinking challenge with Emily?”

Ryan’s face darkened.

“That’s different—I like her. Do you really think that guy likes you? You honestly believe that? You’re way too full of yourself!”

His rapid-fire questions left me shaken.

In my daze, I remembered the twenty-eight-year-old version of this man telling me:

“Claire, you’ve always been worthy of love.”

“Ryan, in your eyes, am I really not even worthy of being loved?”

The grievance surged up, stinging my nose.

“What else would you expect?”

The words slipped out, and then he turned, noticing my reddened eyes. Regret flickered across his face.

“You… forget it. Just don’t be so reckless anymore.”

Ryan spun around and walked back into the Karaoke Room.

I squatted down in the alley, feeling like these seven days were a form of torture.

“So pathetic, Claire. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you like him?”

It was Emily.

“Claire, I hate people touching what’s mine. I’ve tolerated you because Ryan kept bringing you along. But from now on, I hope you’ll have some self-awareness and stay away from him.”

I stood up, forcing a bitter smile.

“Don’t worry. I won’t anymore.”

No sooner had I spoken than a man rushed out of the alley, grabbing Emily’s wrist.

“You little tramp, finally found you. Thought you could ghost me, huh?”

Emily’s face went pale, terror flashing across it.

It was the first time I’d ever seen her look so scared.

He tried to drag her away.

I mustered every ounce of strength, shoving him back and pulling Emily behind me.

The man stumbled, nearly falling.

“I’m warning you. My friends are coming out any second. Don’t you dare make a move.”

He spat on the ground.

“Who cares? Think I’m scared? I’ll beat you too if you don’t get out of the way!”

He raised his fist.

I shut my eyes, Ryan’s face filling my mind.

But the pain never came. Instead, I heard the sounds of fists colliding.

When I opened my eyes, the thug was on the ground, Ryan’s fist clenched, his glare fierce.

“Ry—”

“Emily!”

Our voices overlapped.

I looked at him. He looked at her.

Ryan rushed past me, frantic, checking Emily for injuries.

In another world, when I’d run into danger on my way home, Ryan had descended like this too.

But that Ryan had held me tight, afraid I’d get hurt.

“I’m fine, Ryan.”

Only then did he breathe out in relief.

The thug staggered to his feet, pointing at me.

“You’ll regret this!”

Then he bolted.

Ryan frowned at me.