The year I turned fifty, my husband's company went public.

A reporter asked him—a man celebrated for his success—whether he had any regrets in life.

He was quiet for a moment, then said:

"My greatest regret is that thirty years ago, I didn't..."

He never finished the sentence, but everyone knew what he meant.

Thirty years ago, a fire had torn through the factory. He'd inhaled too much smoke and collapsed. I was the company's lead engineer, and I'd dragged him out of the inferno with my bare hands.

The price I paid was burn scars covering half my body. Hideous, twisted scars.

My fingers were mangled beyond repair. I never worked again.

But he didn't abandon me. He honored our engagement and treated me well for the rest of our lives.

The reporter sighed. "If you could do it all over again, I hope you'd be able to save the one you love."

He nodded in agreement.

Then I woke up.

We were both back. Back in that fire.

He wasn't unconscious this time. His eyes were bright, blazing—but they were fixed on something behind me.

Before I could throw my arms around him, before I could even cry out in joy that we'd been reborn together, he shoved me aside.

He lunged past me and scooped up the intern assistant pinned beneath a fallen beam.

"Sylvia! I finally have the chance to save you!"

So that was it. His regret had never been about me.

……

"Where's the ambulance? We have someone injured here!"

He screamed the words, clutching an unconscious Sylvia Swanson in his arms as he stumbled toward the exit.

The force of his shove had sent me staggering. I nearly fell into the flames all over again, nearly repeated the nightmare of my last life.

I threw myself to the ground and rolled, then crawled through the choking smoke until I was out of the factory.

My throat burned like I'd swallowed a razor blade. But it was nothing compared to the dull ache splitting my chest open.

Eugene Henson knelt outside, cradling Sylvia, his face alight with the wild, tearful joy of a man who'd recovered something he thought was lost forever.

"Sylvia, this time I saved you. Thank God. Thank God."

"This time, we can start over."

Sylvia Swanson was an intern assistant who'd joined the company just six months before the fire. In my previous life, she'd been one of the employees who perished. My only impression of her had been a vague sadness at a life cut short.

At the funeral, I'd asked Eugene to light a stick of incense on my behalf.

I never knew. My husband's greatest regret—the thing that haunted him across a lifetime—was that he hadn't saved her.

How long had they been involved? When did it start?

My mind was still reeling when an employee's panicked shout cut through the chaos:

"Mr. Henson, you made it out! But where's Rose Fox? She heard you were trapped inside and ran straight into the fire to find you!"

The joy drained from Eugene's face. His whole body went rigid.

Only then did he remember me—the woman who'd been crippled saving his life in their last life.

Only then did it hit him that the person he'd shoved aside, the one who'd nearly fallen into the fire, was me.

"Rose!" His voice cracked, raw and hoarse. He scrambled to his feet.

He turned around and met my eyes.

Empty. Hollow. Stripped of everything.

He rushed over in three strides, reaching out to check my burns.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I—"

I stepped back.

His hand froze in midair.

"Rosie, I—"

He looked away, guilt written across his face. But after a moment, he drew a deep breath and forced himself to meet my gaze again.

"Rosie, I didn't realize it was you. At least this time you're not as badly hurt."

"This time... let's go our separate ways."

"You saw it yourself. Sylvia's been in my heart for a long time. In our last life, she died, and then you were maimed saving me. I had no choice but to take responsibility and honor the engagement."

I said nothing. His jaw tightened.

"I already married you once. I already did my duty. In this life, none of that has happened yet. We can still fix this. Can't we just set things right?"

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Set things right?

So our ten-year love story had been nothing but a mistake to him?

My hand drifted to my stomach. I refused to give up.

"What about our child? Eugene, in this life, our baby is still alive! Are you really going to abandon them? Are you going to look me in the eye and say you want them dead?!"

My words struck him silent.

In our last life, I had just confirmed my pregnancy around this time. I'd wrapped the test results like a gift and presented them to him on our tenth anniversary. He'd dropped to one knee and proposed on the spot.

But the very next day, the factory fire broke out. I'd rushed in to save him and been burned in the blaze. That fire took our unborn child from me, along with any chance I'd ever have of becoming a mother.

My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. I stared at Eugene, unblinking, like a defendant waiting for a verdict.

His voice came out hoarse and strained.

"Rose, this child... it's not meant to be. Maybe they were never supposed to be born."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. But what came next nearly sent me to the floor.

"The truth is... Sylvia is already carrying my child."

"Three months along. In our last life, I didn't find out until after she died."

"This time, I'm going to make it right for her and the baby. I'm going to marry Sylvia and make sure her child is born safe and healthy."

"Our child... even if you had it, they'd only ever be illegitimate."

The air left my lungs. My vision blurred, and for a moment I thought I might pass out.

I bit down hard on my lip. The taste of iron flooded my mouth.

Word by word, I said, "Fine. In this life, we go our separate ways."

The fire this time around had been contained quickly. A few million dollars' worth of equipment was destroyed, but thankfully there were no casualties. My arm had still been burned, but the doctor said with proper care, it might not even scar.

I looked down at my hands, pale and nimble and whole. The tears came anyway.

Eugene made no effort to hide where his loyalties lay. He was practically glued to Sylvia's bedside.

Colleagues and staff flooded my phone with messages. Texts. Candid photos taken on the sly.

He'd pulled strings to get her moved into a VIP suite. He'd taken leave from work and stayed with her around the clock. He wouldn't let anyone else help. He bathed her himself, set up a private kitchen in the hospital, cooked her meals, and fed her by hand.

The Eugene in those photos was patient and tender in a way I had never once seen directed at me.

The bitterness rose in my chest despite everything.

My coworkers were livid. The group chat exploded.

"What is Mr. Henson thinking? His own wife got hospitalized saving his life, and he doesn't even visit."

"Some intern assistant faints from a little smoke, and suddenly he's playing full-time nurse?"

"Sylvia always acted so quiet and harmless. Turns out she's completely shameless. Don't tell me Mr. Henson actually fell for that little homewrecker?"

Close friends reached out too, worried, asking what I planned to do. Whether I should try talking sense into Eugene.

"You two have ten years of history together. You built everything side by side. Don't let some outsider waltz in and steal what's yours."

"He's probably just infatuated with something new. It'll pass once the novelty wears off..."

Even my parents called to ask what I intended to do.

"Our daughter doesn't need to suffer this kind of humiliation for the sake of a business alliance."

I kept my voice steady.

"I'll break off the engagement. But I'm not going to make it easy for him. The Hensons will come to me with a full apology and enough compensation to match. They'll be the ones begging for my forgiveness."

As for our baby...

I pressed my hand against my stomach, ache and longing warring inside me.

I knew I should terminate the pregnancy and sever every last tie to Eugene Henson.

But when I thought about my previous life, how this child had been lost before its time, and how in this life I'd managed to keep it safe, the thought of letting go was unbearable.

I gathered my thoughts, deciding to give myself time to think it through.

That was when an old friend tracked me down. She'd been with Eugene and me from the very beginning, back when we first started the company. Guilt was written all over her face.

"I'm sorry. I noticed something was off between Eugene and that assistant a long time ago. But I was afraid of wrecking things between you two, so I just..."

From her, I learned the truth about the six months I'd spent in the dark like a fool.

Sylvia had been Eugene's junior in college. She never should have qualified for a position at our company. Eugene had pulled strings to get her hired.

Once she was in, he shielded her at every turn. At client dinners, he'd personally take her drinks for her, downing shot after shot so she wouldn't have to.

The memory hit me like a wave. For the past six months, every time Eugene came home from a business dinner, he'd been drunk and doubled over with stomach pain, unable to sleep through the night.

I'd felt so sorry for him. I'd stayed up with him, rubbing his back, bringing him medicine.

I'd even wondered why, with the company doing so well, he still had to push himself so hard to wine and dine clients.

Now I understood. It was never about the clients. It was about Sylvia.

My friend went on. She told me Eugene had a habit of taking the stomach-soothing meals I packed for him and giving them to Sylvia.

Because Sylvia had a sensitive stomach.

And every lunch break, the two of them would hole up in the conference room together, feeding each other bite by bite.

The color drained from my face. I pressed a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.

My friend handed me a glass of water, her expression torn.

"Do you remember your birthday? You were planning to propose to Eugene..."

"Sylvia found out and threw a fit. So Eugene deliberately scheduled an overseas conference and took her on a business trip to cheer her up."

She pulled up Sylvia's social media and showed me.

There was Sylvia, beaming, kissing Eugene beneath the Eiffel Tower.

"I can't have you forever, but I can have you for now."

I thought about that ruined proposal. The restaurant I'd booked, the ring I'd picked out, the empty chair across from me. A bitter smile twisted my lips.

My friend looked at me, her voice sincere.

"I'm sorry, Rosie. I should have told you sooner."

"At least you two never got married. At least I didn't let you waste your whole life."

A memory surfaced unbidden. In my previous life, when I'd woken up in the hospital and seen my mangled hands, I'd wanted to throw myself out the window. Then Eugene had dropped to his knees and proposed, swearing he'd take care of me forever.

This same friend had been standing there. I remembered her expression now, the complicated look in her eyes, the way her congratulations had sounded hollow and forced.

She must have been agonizing inside.

The thought made my chest ache. I pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you for telling me."

That evening, I'd barely walked through the front door when the housekeeper told me Eugene had come by.

My father and I exchanged a look. He nodded to the housekeeper to let him in.

What I hadn't expected was that Eugene had brought Sylvia with him.

The moment he saw my father, he lowered his head, adopting a humble posture.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I don't love Rose anymore. I can't marry her."

My father let out a cold laugh.

"You toss out 'I don't love her' like it costs you nothing. All these years, if it weren't for your relationship with my daughter, there's no way in hell I would have let her hand over her chip technology and invest her own money in your company."

"You're young, you want to chase love, fine. But everything you've swallowed over these years, you're going to spit back out."

"My daughter's microchip technology and the five million dollars she invested. Give it all back."

Eugene's eyelid twitched. He frowned, his tone shifting to something measured and persuasive.

"Sir, Rose and I simply can't be husband and wife anymore. That has nothing to do with our business partnership."