1 The first thing the renowned actress Ava Aniston did upon her return to this life was march into her agency and terminate her contract. "Ms. Aniston, the Starlight Gala is just around the corner. Are you certain you want to proceed with a forced termination now?" the agent asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "Once terminated, the stage name 'Ava Aniston' will be legally voided. You'll vanish from public records, untraceable." Ava didn’t hesitate. She pulled a black card from her purse and settled the exorbitant cancellation fee. "I'm certain." "The termination is successful," the agent said, a note of finality in his tone. "The paperwork will take ten days to process." Ten days. The exact date of the Starlight Gala. In her last life, she had been desperately in love with her husband, Michael Croft. A year later, after a devastating car crash, she watched him pull her lead surgeon away from her operating table to save the life of another woman—the one who held his heart. Given a second chance, she wanted nothing more to do with him. Outside the office, Ava bought a one-way ticket to New York, departing in ten days, then wrapped her fur coat tighter and stepped into the waiting car. A blizzard was raging. Wind and snow battered the windows, a chilling draft seeping through the seams. She rubbed her icy fingertips together, her gaze landing on the massive digital billboard in the city square. A new face smiled down from the screen, a high-end luxury ring prominently displayed on her ring finger. A week ago, that billboard had featured Ava, the industry's youngest Best Actress award winner. But her boss, her husband, Michael Croft, the CEO of Aura Entertainment, had personally ordered it changed. It now featured Seraphina Moss, the internet's latest sensation, and the woman he truly loved. Ava’s eyes stung. She looked away, opening her phone. Her last social media post was a photo of her and Michael, their hands intertwined. The caption read: "To have and to hold, one heart, until we grow old." Michael had been the first to 'like' it. The comments below were a tidal wave of blessings, all celebrating their picture-perfect love. "Knew I'd see a pic of the boss here! His own feed is a ghost town." "Goddess-level beauty! And Mr. Croft is so handsome! But why is he in a full suit on a tropical island? Isn't it hot?" "You must be new. Eight years ago, the Croft mansion caught fire. Michael was already out, but when he heard Ava was still inside, he ran back in to save her. She was fine, but he suffered major burns. He hasn't worn a short-sleeved shirt since. Always buttons it to the top." "Who doesn't know he's the ultimate husband? He bought her a two-hundred-million-dollar private island in the tropics just because she gets cold easily. I'd light incense every day if my husband was half as good." "Other celebrity couples might fail, but not these two. He's obsessed with his wife." Ava’s lips twisted into a self-mocking smile. Obsessed? Michael had been cheating for six months. Countless nights he'd claimed to be "working late" were spent at Seraphina’s apartment, while Ava foolishly believed he was building a future for them. Her finger paused, then exited the comments. Her gaze fell on that last post, the one he had liked. He never knew that the classic poem she quoted had a devastating first line: I hear you have a second love, and so I have come to break it off. The car pulled up to their villa. The storm was fierce. Even with the butler holding an umbrella, snowflakes found their way to Michael’s eyelashes. The icy specks couldn't hide the warmth in his eyes. "Ava, you're back." He reached for her hand to warm it, but she saw a woman's hair tie on his wrist—one that wasn't hers. A chill washed over her. Before she could refuse, his hand was already covering hers, his thumb gently stroking the back. "It's Valentine's Day," he murmured. "I decorated the house. Come see if you like it." The living room doors opened to a scene of calculated romance. The lighting was dim, the air filled with the scent of expensive candles. Ava walked to the dining table, but instead of her usual red wine, she asked the butler for sparkling water. Michael looked puzzled. "A change of taste?" Ava lowered her gaze, her eyes flickering for a split second towards her stomach. "Nothing. Just wanted to try something new." Suddenly, Michael’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and quickly declined the call. But it buzzed again, relentlessly. He shot Ava an apologetic look before answering. His face changed. "Sorry, Ava. Something urgent came up at the office." Ava sipped her water. It tasted bitter. "It's fine. You should go." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'll handle it quickly." She watched him disappear into his study, her eyelashes trembling. She knew what "urgent business" this was. In her past life, she had caught a glimpse of his phone that night: it was a picture of Seraphina, dressed in a nurse's uniform. 2 Ava silently opened her laptop and navigated to Seraphina’s livestream. A comment flashed across the screen: "He's still not answering? Babe, you sure your man isn't with someone else?" Seraphina reapplied her lipstick, then stood to show off the curves accentuated by the tight nurse's outfit. She smirked. "He's probably just held up by some stray dog on the road. Can't be helped, he has such a big heart." As if on cue, a username—ForSera—appeared in the chat, gifting 100 virtual "castles." A message followed: "Darling, don't wear that for the stream." The word "darling" felt like a boulder crushing Ava’s chest. Seraphina’s face lit up with a coy, triumphant smile. "I just wanted to make you jealous," she pouted. "Besides, you didn't spend Valentine's with me. You can't blame me for a little revenge, can you?" Michael said nothing more. Instead, ForSera gifted 9,999 of the most expensive "Cosmic Hearts." Then, another message: "There's one more gift. Look outside your window." A series of deafening booms echoed through the night as fireworks exploded, illuminating the sky. Ava could see them from her own window. Seraphina’s livestream ended with her beaming, basking in the glow of a love that gave her the confidence to be reckless. "Sorry, everyone! My boyfriend is a little too possessive. Gotta go!" Back in the dining room, the steak grew cold. The candles were nearly burnt out. As Ava finished the last of her sparkling water, Michael finally emerged from the study. "That was Director Hayes," he said. "I've secured the lead role for you in his new film." Director Hayes was a legend, known for his critically acclaimed art-house films. A role in his movie was a guaranteed award. If she hadn’t just watched the livestream, she might have actually believed him. Ava was silent for a moment. "His films are mostly arthouse. They often have nude scenes. You don't mind?" Michael paused. "Of course not. I'm not that petty." No, she thought. You save all your possessiveness for her. The death of love always begins with the death of jealousy. "Tell him I'm passing," Ava said, her voice flat. "I want to take a break for a while." "Alright," Michael replied, his tone gentle again. "We'll find you something else next time." There would be no next time. In ten days, she would be gone forever. That night, Michael held her as they slept, warming her cold hands and feet as he always did. The image of Seraphina's billboard flashed in her mind. "Seraphina has only had a couple of minor roles," Ava said, feigning casualness. "She's barely transitioned from being an influencer. How is she getting so many major endorsements?" Michael’s body tensed. "Her boyfriend must be promoting her," he said smoothly. The words "her boyfriend" were a sharp, physical pain in Ava’s chest. She gripped the corner of the duvet. "Is it really a good idea for Aura to sign her? What if she wants to get married, or have a baby? Can she afford the breach of contract fee?" "Her boyfriend loves her so much," Michael said without hesitation, "he would definitely pay the fee for her. And marry her." He paused, perhaps realizing how certain he sounded. "I've met him," he added. So that was it. That was his real plan. All Seraphina had to do was say the word, and he would abandon everything to be with her. What, then, was their history? A ten-year dream? Ava said nothing more. In the darkness, silent tears traced a path from her eyes to the pillow. Once Michael’s breathing evened out, she slipped out of his arms and went to the study. Moonlight streamed in, casting a lonely glow on her frail figure. Her eyes fell on their university graduation photo on his desk. A bitter laugh escaped her. From the time she was a little girl, her goal was clear: become the most famous actress in the country. It meant being beautiful, talented, and fit. No scandals, no romance. She had been disciplined for eighteen years, ready to dedicate her life to her art. Michael was the one exception she had made. The day they got together, he'd told her, "Ava, I'll never make you regret this. I'll make you the happiest woman in the world." Apparently, that promise had a ten-year expiration date. Ava opened a drawer and pulled out the divorce papers. With a steady hand, she signed her name. Michael, she thought, when you realize in ten days that you can never find me again, will you feel even a flicker of regret? 3 The next morning, Ava went to the city's most private hospital. Michael called. "The driver said you went to the hospital. Are you feeling unwell?" "It's nothing. Just my usual cycle issues." Ava closed her eyes and tore the paper in her hand into tiny pieces, dropping them into the trash. On one of the fluttering scraps, two words were printed in stark red ink: Pregnancy Confirmed. After hanging up, Ava’s hand instinctively went to her stomach, and memories flooded back. When they were young and struggling, Michael had acted as her manager, drinking with investors until he vomited blood just to get her a ten-minute supporting role. She had spent three days filming in freezing water, her body aching, but she never gave up on the chance he had fought for. That night, in their tiny, cramped apartment, he'd shaken her awake, his face filled with a panic she'd never seen before, not when investors belittled him or his family berated him. "Ava, you're bleeding." They had lost the baby. A doctor told them the fetus had already started to form. Their tears fell together. "I'm so sorry, Ava," he'd sobbed, holding her tight. "It's all my fault. I promise, it will never happen again." The second time she got pregnant, she told him the good news. His response was two cold, emotionless words. "Get rid of it." Seeing her shock, he'd added, "Ava, you're at the peak of your career right now. We'll have one next time." But "next time" never came. "Ms. Aniston, are you sure you want to terminate?" The doctor's voice pulled Ava from her memories. He frowned at the test results. "The fetus is developing very healthily. But your body is quite weak. If you terminate this pregnancy, you may never be able to conceive again." Ava’s heart stuttered. In her last life, Michael had brought her to this same hospital. He'd told her the fetus was unhealthy, and the doctor had recommended an abortion. After that, she was never able to get pregnant again. It was the biggest regret of her life. She looked down at her still-flat stomach. She could feel a life growing there. Heaven had given her a second chance, and with it, this child. This time, she wouldn't let go. The snow outside had stopped. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, but it couldn't illuminate the desolation in her eyes. "Thank you, doctor. I'm keeping it." New York, she thought, must have plenty of single mothers. The next day at the office, her manager, Catherine, rushed over, beaming. "Ava, Mr. Croft got you the Velocity endorsement!" Velocity was a high-end sportswear brand. The campaign would involve intense physical activity. Ava’s face hardened. She went straight to the top floor, to Michael’s office. But she froze at the door. Seraphina was just coming out, a small, red mark visible on the pale skin of her neck. "Ava," she purred. "Ava, what are you doing here?" Michael sounded flustered, quickly buttoning his collar. There was an edge of blame in his tone. Ava’s breath hitched. She pushed past Seraphina. "Turn down the Velocity deal. I'm not taking any new projects for a while." Michael frowned. Ava was a notorious workaholic. Even when "resting," she only ever paused film projects, never endorsements. "Ava, are you sure it's just your cycle? Are you hiding something else from me?" She froze, but her voice was steady when she replied. "It's nothing, really." He finally relaxed, taking her hand. "You should stop taking those birth control pills, then. Let your body recover. If you get pregnant, we'll have the baby. I'll take good care of you both." Ava nodded silently. He had said the same thing in her past life. But when she was actually pregnant, he had dragged her to the hospital without a second thought. Michael, do you have any idea that I took eleven bottles of birth control pills last year alone, all for you? You're the one who forced me to abort our child. You don't deserve to be a father. 4 There was a knock on the door. Seraphina’s manager came in. "Mr. Croft, Seraphina's schedule needs your signature." "You go ahead," Ava said. "I'm going home." Halfway to the elevator, she realized her left earring was missing. She retraced her steps back to Michael's office. Through the heavy wooden door, she heard his irritated voice. "I told you not to bother me when Ava is here." Seraphina's voice was a playful pout. She was sitting on his lap. "Michael, don't be so harsh. She's the one who interrupted our fun." Her voice turned sultry. "I wore this especially for you. Don't you want to see?" There was a pause, then the sound of a sharp intake of breath, followed by soft, heated moans. The cold metal of the door handle seeped into Ava’s palm, spreading through her veins until it reached her heart. Even knowing what he was, hearing it with her own ears was like a knife twisting in her gut. Her fingers turned white as she pulled out her phone and dialed his number. The phone inside the office rang for half a second before being silenced. No hesitation. Ava’s heart went numb. She walked away, a zombie in her own life. Two hours later, he called back. "I was in a meeting. What's up?" The lie was so blatant it was almost funny. "Nothing," she said, her voice smooth. "I dropped an earring, but I've found it now." You're the better actor, Michael. The awards should all go to you. Two days later, at a family dinner, Michael's mother deliberately turned the lazy susan just as Ava reached for a piece of fish. "You eat so much, but you still haven't produced an heir. Even a dog would have had a litter in ten years." "Do you know what they used to call 'stars' in ancient times?" his father chimed in, his disgust unconcealed. "Actors. Performers. Things to be gawked at. Your priority should be to quit your job and give this family a son!" "I will," Ava said finally. "I'll be retiring." And in five days, I'll be leaving with my baby forever. Michael squeezed her hand. "Dad, Mom, don't pressure her. We'll figure out the baby situation." Just then, Seraphina appeared at the door, holding a bottle of expensive ginseng wine. "Mr. and Mrs. Croft," she said, beaming, "I felt such a connection with you both. If you don't mind, I'd love to be your goddaughter! Ava is so busy, not like me. I just want to be here for you." Michael's eyes went cold, but his father laughed. "I wish I had a daughter-in-law as thoughtful as you! Not like some people who can't take a hint!" His mother patted the seat beside her. "Come, dear, sit with us." In ten years of marriage, they had never once invited Ava to sit beside them. "This is a family dinner," Michael said, his voice dangerously low. "You shouldn't be sitting there." Tears sprang to Seraphina’s eyes. She shot Ava a resentful glare and left. Michael looked like he was about to follow, but seeing Ava still quietly eating, he stayed, though his attention was clearly elsewhere. His parents' criticisms rained down on her again. Finally, Ava stood up. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going home." She left so quickly Michael didn't see the look on her face. It wasn't until she had locked herself in a bathroom stall that she finally let herself collapse, the tears she'd been holding back breaking free. She dug her nails into her palms. Don't listen. Don't look. Don't care. The doctor said stress is bad for the baby. They don't want you. It doesn't matter. The baby is your only family. Suddenly, a notification popped up on her phone. Seraphina had posted a photo from the dinner, tagging Ava. Having dinner with my boyfriend's family and ran into my idol, Ava Aniston! What a coincidence. Though no faces were fully visible, Ava recognized the private room, the table setting, the back of Michael's head.
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