I let out a cold laugh but didn't reply to Reagan's message. As if right on time, Zayne's video call came through. He said, "Ruth, we've just arrived and checked in at the hotel."

He spoke, facing the phone screen with a gentle gaze, "Are you feeling any better? Did you take your medicine? Did you eat properly? I feel so bad about not being there by your side to feed you myself."

If not for the memories of two lifetimes, I might still be lost in his false tenderness, foolishly believing that his care was genuine.

Leaning weakly against the headboard, I replied to his questions in a soft voice, "I had some food and took my meds. Don't worry about me. You should rest early."

"How can I not worry? When I can't see you, I just don't feel at ease," he said with affectionate concern.

In my previous life, I had been moved to tears by the fake gentleness and wholesome caring act he put on. I was convinced that his mistake was a momentary lapse of judgment and that he still loved me.

So, I played the fool and waited patiently for him to come back to me. In the end, all I got in return was him killing me and our unborn child for his true love.

The next second, Reagan appeared in the frame. She was wearing a bathrobe. There was a faint, rosy flush on her face. The marks of their earlier passionate endeavor were visible along her collarbone.

When she saw me on the screen, she covered her mouth with feigned surprise. "Oh! Are you having a video call with Ruth, Zayne?"

Zayne turned and looked at her with doting eyes before turning back to the camera. He quickly explained, "The water heater in Reagan's room is broken. She came to my room to take a shower."

What a pathetic excuse. Smiling, Reagan stepped closer and wrapped her arms naturally around Zayne's waist. She then rested her head on his broad back.

She looked at me with a taunting smile and said, "Don't worry. I'll take good care of Zayne for you. He's been working hard all day. I was just about to give him a massage."

Before I could react, she reached into Zayne's pocket and pulled out a black card.

She said innocently, "Oh, right. Look at this, Ruth. Zayne said that once this project takes off, he'll use this card to buy me the Heart of the Ocean necklace as a reward. He said only I have the perfect looks to pull off wearing that necklace."

Oh, the Heart of the Ocean! On my birthday last year, I had begged Zayne several times for that very necklace. He had brushed me off, saying that it was too flashy and unsuitable for me.

Rage surged within me. My fingernails dug deep into my palm.

Zayne gently ruffled her hair indulgently. "Ruth, Reagan worked really hard for this project. She deserves a reward. You've always been generous. You won't mind, right?"

I masked my true emotions by giving a few weak coughs. In a hoarse voice, I said, "I don't mind. You two… Should get some rest."

Before either of them could respond, I hung up the call myself. The screen went dark, reflecting my pale, emotionless face.

Barely ten seconds later, Zayne texted me. He wrote, "I'm sorry, Ruth. Reagan didn't mean it. She's like a child sometimes. Don't hold it against her."

Then, he texted, "I'm sorry about the Heart of the Ocean. When you're better, I'll take you out to pick an even prettier one, okay? Don't be mad at me."

I stared at his pretentious apology and almost laughed out loud. Did he really think I was still the same woman from his previous life, one who would easily forgive him after hearing a few sweet nothings? Not bothering to reply, I tossed my phone aside.

By the next morning, my fever had subsided. Ignoring the nurse's protests, I signed the discharge papers and went back to the home I once shared with Zayne.

I straightened my back and decided that it was time to clean out everything that belonged to him. It was time to start my new life. When I reached the study, my hand brushed against a small, locked iron box tucked away at the back of a drawer.

In my previous life, I had once asked Zayne about it out of curiosity. He had smiled gently and said it contained some of his little secrets.

I had never thought of opening it. But now… I fetched some tools and pried the small lock open.

The moment the lid lifted, my breath caught in my throat. Inside was a thick stack of photos and a diary. Every photo was of Zayne and Reagan.

There were pictures of them at the seaside, smiling under the sun, on a trip I never even knew they had gone on. There were photos of them at an amusement park, wearing matching headbands like a couple.

And there was one that made my blood run cold. It was a photo of them in my bedroom. Reagan was wearing my nightgown and kissing Zayne on the cheek. The earliest photo dated back to the second year after Zayne and I got married.

My hands started trembling uncontrollably as I opened the diary. On the very first page were the words, "Dedicated to my only light, my Reagan."

Every page after that was filled with their so-called "love story."

"April 7th, sunny. Ruth and I argued again over work. I'm so tired. It's only when I'm with Reagan that I feel truly at peace. She's like the sun that is bright enough to drive away all my shadows."

"August 15th, rainy. Reagan said she liked that limited-edition bag. I secretly bought it for her. Seeing her surprise and joy made everything worth it. Ruth never smiles over little things like that. She's so dull."

"December 1st, cloudy. I fought with Ruth again today. She doesn't understand how hard I work. I stormed out, and it was Reagan who came to find me.

"She stayed with me all night in the cold and even gave me her coat. In that moment, I wanted to leave everything behind and run away with her."

So they hadn't developed feelings from working together all the time. It had started way before that.

It was so disgusting! How utterly repulsive!

I had to erase every memory I shared with Zayne. I found a metal bin and a lighter. Then, I gathered every gift, photo, and every trace of him that I could find and lit them up.

And with that, into the bin they went, one by one, and I watched them burn. It was best to burn this filthy past to ashes. As I stood there looking at the ashes, something finally began to peel away deep inside me.

Just then, my phone buzzed nonstop on the table. A flood of messages from Reagan came in.

In the first set of photos she sent, she and Zayne were walking arm in arm down a picturesque street reminiscent of those in a foreign country. He was patiently picking out an expensive silk scarf for her.

In another instance, they were dining at a high-end restaurant. She held a wine glass with a radiant beam, while he looked at her with tender adoration.

And in the most recent clip, a foreign businessman clapped Zayne on the shoulder and said in heavily-accented Cresdian, "Mr. Colman, your wife is so young and beautiful. You two are a match made in heaven."

Reagan blushed and lowered her head shyly, linking her arm through Zayne's. He simply smiled and didn't deny it. I stared at the screen expressionlessly. Then, I tossed my phone aside.

I wasn't mad, nor was I saddened at all. After all, the happy couple would soon embark on their "bright future" together.

The next morning, my phone suddenly started ringing just as dawn broke. Zayne's name flashed on the screen.

My heart jolted me awake. Was this the call that would announce Reagan's death? I took a deep breath and pressed "Accept."

"Morning, honey. Are you awake?" Zayne's voice was as gentle as ever. I was taken aback and didn't know how to respond.

What was going on? In my previous life, Reagan had been tortured to death by the third day. Could it be that with both of them together this time, the inevitable end was taking longer?

Zayne chirped, "I have good news. The deal went through! The client loved our proposal, and we signed the contract this morning. I bought tickets to fly back tomorrow. I'll be home soon."

Upon hearing that, my mind went completely blank. How could this be possible?