On our wedding night, my husband didn't stay long enough to toast with champagne.

He left me alone at the reception and retreated to the chapel.

Because from the very beginning, this stoic, untouchable man had only ever loved my younger sister.

For three years of my marriage, I poured myself into thawing a heart of stone, only to be met with glacial silence.

"Claire," he said coldly, "I'd rather take vows of celibacy than ever love you."

But when the truck came barreling toward me, the man who had resented me his entire life used his own body to shield mine.

Just before I lost consciousness, I saw him gripping the paramedic's sleeve, blood staining his lips.

"Don't tell that crazy woman who saved her… And don't let my family… make things difficult for her."

Tears welled in my eyes. Only then did I realize I wasn't the only one at fault in this marriage.

After coming back to life, I chose to join the United Nations Peacekeeping Forces and head straight to the front lines.

If we were never meant to grow old together in this life, then let my final wish for him be this:

A lifetime of peace, and an eternity of never crossing paths with me again.

"You even jumped off a building just to force me into marriage. You're crazy."

That cold, scornful voice pierced my ears.

I jolted awake, eyes snapping open.

And the first thing I saw was the face that had haunted me for years—handsome beyond compare, etched with bitterness.

Sam Worthington. The guy who had hated me for a decade, yet gave his life to save mine.

I never thought… I'd be reborn ten years in the past.

My eyes drank him in greedily, turning red at the rims, my throat dry and tight.

"Sam…"

'You're alive. That's all that matters,' I thought.

"So, you've finally stopped pretending to be asleep?" He rose with his usual indifference. Deep shadows under his eyes betrayed a sleepless night. "Stop playing these death games. I'm leaving."

"Stay with me… just a little longer." I reached out instinctively, but he dodged my hand.

Without a word, he turned to leave.

I jumped out of bed barefoot and wrapped my arms around him from behind.

His body stiffened instantly, muscles tensing beneath my touch. "Let go."

But I shut my eyes tightly, clinging to his warmth like a drowning person to driftwood.

"Just one minute. Please… just give me one minute."

'Just sixty seconds. Sixty seconds to indulge myself… And then I'll let go for good,' I thought.

He suddenly pried my fingers loose, his grip harsh enough to hurt. "Claire, you can't force love."

"I know."

"You know?" He let out a mocking laugh. "Did you say that before you jumped? You knew, and you still did it, just to force me to marry you. Don't you get it? You can't force love."

He shoved me back onto the bed, then slammed the door behind him with a violent thud.

The warmth of his hand still lingered on my palm, brief and fleeting.

I curled my lips into a bitter smile. "This time… it really is different."

Sam and I had grown up together. I loved him, but to him, I was always just a sister, just family.

In my previous life, I fought and schemed and managed to become his wife. But his heart was never mine; it belonged to my younger sister. Ten years of a loveless marriage led only to misery and regret.

This time, I would let go. Let him go. Let everyone go.

My phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a new message: [Ms. Dunn, you have passed the selection process for the United Nations Peacekeeping Forces' Remains Recovery Unit. Please report to headquarters within 15 days. Reply 'Accept' to confirm.]

I stared at the words Remains Recovery Unit for a long time. My fingers trembled faintly above the screen.

The peacekeeping force was deployed to a battlefield halfway across the world.

I would have no one for me there. No parents, no Sam, no Melissa.

Only the eternal silence of the dead, and the smell of disinfectant in endless tents.

In my previous life, I passed the selection too. But I gave it up in hopes of spending my life with that special someone.

This time, I pressed on the screen: Accept.

After packing up briefly, I completed the hospital discharge procedures.

When I opened the front door to our home, the warm glow of the lights and the sound of conversation inside hit me like an invisible wall.

"Claire knew how much I wanted to study abroad, but she still went to the department head to steal that one spot from me!" Melissa's voice trembled with tears. "Mom, is she trying to ruin my life?"

"Don't cry, Melissa," my mother soothed gently. "Once your sister gets back, I'll make her give up the spot for you."

Sam pressed his lips together in silence, while my father slammed his cup down on the table.

"Claire," he said sternly, "come here and explain yourself."

With a bandage wrapped around my forehead and my face pale from the hospital, I stepped into the living room.

Four pairs of eyes turned to me in unison. All cold. All accusing.

Not a single one asked how I was feeling. No one cared that I had just been discharged.

Melissa, eyes red and brimming with tears, raised her acceptance letter.

"Claire, you already have everything. Why do you have to steal my chance to study abroad too?"

I had everything?

My fingernails dug deep into my palm.

What exactly did I have?

Our parents' love? That belonged to her.

Sam's heart? Also hers.

Even the sunniest bedroom in the house was hers.

And now, the opportunity I had fought tooth and nail for… Was she going to take that too?

Just because I was born two years earlier, I was destined to always be the one who gives in?

I was the one who had everything taken from me, yet here I stood like some sort of thief, being judged by my own family.

"Claire," Sam said, rising to his feet. His gaze was cold. "Give the spot to Melissa."

I looked at him. "She didn't even pass the entrance exam. I got a perfect score. Why should I give it to her?"

My father slammed the table and stood up. "Because you don't need it!"

My mother, cradling a sobbing Melissa, chimed in, "Claire, don't take your anger out on your sister's future."

When I remained silent, Melissa suddenly began to cough violently.

Sam swiftly retrieved her asthma inhaler, dropping to one knee to press it to her lips. "Don't be scared, Melissa. I'm here."

"Claire," my mother said, eyes red and pleading, "you know Melissa's health isn't good. You're the older sister. And you're so capable. What's wrong with letting her have this one thing?"

I looked at the people in front of me—my closest family—all pressing in, forcing me to surrender.

Because I was stronger. Because my sister was weak.

So I gave up the toys.

I gave up the bedroom.

I gave up our parents' love.

In my previous life, the one thing I refused to give up was Sam. But even then, his heart was always hers.

They all sat together now, like a picture-perfect family portrait. And I stood alone in the shadows, forever the outsider.

"I earned that acceptance letter with my own abilities," I said calmly. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I'll let the department head know I'll forfeit the chance to study abroad."

Studying abroad and advancing my career had once been my dream. But I had already chosen to join the United Nations Peacekeeping Forces. There was no need to cling to anything else.

Originally, I had only returned home to say I was giving up the spot, and to say a proper goodbye. I hadn't expected to be robbed of even that.

So be it.

For a brief moment, Sam's expression faltered. He frowned and looked at me.

But Melissa's sudden sobbing quickly pulled his attention away.

"Sam, my chest hurts…"

"I'll take you to the hospital," he said without hesitation.

He scooped her up in his arms and walked out, not sparing me so much as a glance.

My parents followed after them, concern etched on their faces.

All the love and care I had once dreamed of, I didn't receive it in my past life. And in this one, it still wasn't mine.

I forced back the tears welling in my eyes and smiled faintly. "It's alright, Claire. You'll be just fine on your own."

My phone suddenly buzzed in my hand. I picked up.

"Claire, we're calling to confirm the final floral arrangements for your wedding venue. Shall we go with the champagne roses you liked best?"

My grip on the phone tightened, knuckles turning white.

In my previous life, I had married Sam. And I had arranged every detail of the wedding myself.

I had so carefully chosen all the wedding decorations. All the hopeful dreams I once had for that day—now every humiliating memory came crashing back like a tidal wave.

I walked down the aisle in my wedding dress, heart full of hope, ready to marry Sam. But the man standing at the altar wasn't in a tuxedo.

When the officiant asked us to exchange vows, he took the microphone. His voice was ice-cold. "Claire, I'd rather take vows of celibacy than ever love you."

My thoughts froze. Then I made a call. "I'll transfer you to Melissa," I said. "She's the real bride."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "But the invitation says this is your wedding."

"Mine has been canceled," I replied briefly.

I ended the call, messaged my professor, and quietly began to pack. An entire day and night passed. My parents still hadn't returned, but by then, I had nearly finished preparing to leave.

Just after I washed up, the apartment door swung open. Sam stepped inside.

I looked up, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Shouldn't he be at the hospital with Melissa?

He didn't respond. Instead, he walked in and set a small, delicate cake on the table. "Blueberry. Your favorite. Eat it."

I froze. It hit me—he was trying to cheer me up. Just like before, when we hadn't yet fallen apart. Whenever I was upset, he'd bring me blueberry cake to coax a smile.

That was how he was. Cold on the outside, but he remembered everything I liked.

When I was curled up in pain during my period and my parents ignored me, he would bring me warm milk.

I was allergic to mangoes; my parents always forgot, but he made sure no mango ever touched my plate.

When our parents spent the night in the hospital with my feverish sister, he sat with me in the living room so I wouldn't be afraid.

When I was hospitalized after jumping from a building, he was the one who stayed by my side.

And when the truck came barreling toward me, it was him—he was the one who died to save me.

Day after day. Year after year. Quiet, enduring kindness. How could I not become addicted to that?

I had mistaken his compassion for love. I convinced myself he cared, just didn't realize it yet. So in my past life, I clung to him desperately.

But now, I understood. He didn't love me. He was just a good person. Everything he did was to repay the debt of that one day, when we were twelve and I shielded him from shattered glass, ending up covered in cuts.

I pulled myself from the memory and smiled faintly. "No need. I don't like blueberry cake anymore."

Sam froze and looked at me in confusion. "When did that change?"

A long time ago. After Melissa's accident.

Suddenly, the pieces snapped together. In my past life, her downfall had started right around this time. I snatched up my phone and checked the date—May 1st.

Today was May 1st. This was the day Melissa drowned her sorrows in alcohol, was taken advantage of, and later jumped to her death. The day that turned everyone against me.

This time, I had given her the scholarship. I had called off the wedding. But I didn't know—would she still spiral into despair?

I didn't have time to explain. I ran out of the apartment like a madwoman.

Guided by memories from my past life, I called the police and raced straight to the alley behind the bar.

To my shock, Melissa was there, surrounded by several young men, being coaxed and pressured to drink. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was laughing like nothing mattered.

"Melissa!" I stormed forward and grabbed her wrist. "Come home with me."

She whipped around. "Claire? What are you doing here? Stay out of my business!"

The guys exchanged a few glances. One of them, with blond hair, stepped toward me with a smirk. "Hey, sexy. You're even prettier than your little sister. Why don't you come party with us too?"

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes on him made me nauseous. I fixed him with a cold glare. "I've already called the police. If you're smart, you'll leave now."