Everyone said Grant Sterling loved me. After we got married, we treated each other with mutual respect. That was until the day I found out he had been bankrolling his "first love" on the side. When I confronted him, red-eyed and shaking, his reaction froze my blood. Afraid I’d ruin the other woman's reputation, he had me thrown into the confinement cell on the base. 1 "You're free to go." The baton slammed against the iron door, the metallic clang echoing sharply. The guard stood at the entrance of the holding cell, looking down at me with pure disdain. She was just like everyone else on the base. Deep down, she looked down on Mrs. Sterling. I struggled to stand up. It took me a solid minute to realize the truth: I had died under a mudslide, and somehow, I had been reborn. Grant was standing outside the main gate waiting for me, just like in my past life. 2 "Why are you crying?" The man’s handsome, sharp features came into view. I remembered the feeling of tracing his brow bone every night, the intimacy we once shared. But now, back from the dead and looking him in the eye, I was speechless. I really was reborn. I sniffled and walked down the steps in silence. Winter in Harbor City was brutal. The cold made my heart shiver with grief. Out of habit, Grant took off his heavy military coat and draped it over my shoulders. "Don't catch a cold." The warmth hit me, mixed with the faint scent of gardenias. I knew that smell—it was the soap Bella used. I remembered my past life. When I questioned him about the scent, Grant’s gentle aura turned icy. He looked at me with suppressed rage. "Zoe, I locked you up for three days. Haven't you cooled off yet? Can you please stop making a scene?" Back then, I was full of grievances. I struggled, isolated and helpless, while he turned a blind eye to Bella’s provocations. I became a joke to everyone. Grant, in this life, go ahead and love your "one that got away" in broad daylight. I’m done playing. Holding back the tears threatening to spill, I stiffly removed the coat. I didn't say a word about the scent. "Wear it yourself. I'm not cold." Grant paused, stunned. It took him a long moment to recover. 3 Back home, I boiled water to take a bath. When I came out, Grant was actually in the kitchen cooking. There were three side dishes already on the table. "Sit down. Soup's almost ready." Who would have thought the high-and-mighty Captain Sterling, the man everyone admired, would be wearing my apron? If I hadn't seen him order me into confinement to protect that woman's reputation, I wouldn't believe this was the same man. Even after the hot shower, my body shivered with phantom chills. That was the pain of being buried alive by mud. The despair of being abandoned by Grant. I took a deep breath and told myself: Zoe, you have to be strong. If others don't cherish you, betray you, or abandon you, then you must love yourself even more. I scooped myself a huge bowl of rice. Three days in confinement with no one looking out for me meant two meals a day: cold buns and watery gruel. Grant brought the seaweed soup to the table and froze. I didn't wait for him. I shoveled food into my mouth like a starving ghost. He sat opposite me and served the soup. "Slow down. If you like it, I'll buy more tomorrow." He placed the soup next to me. The sound of chopsticks hitting porcelain echoed in the house, making the two of us seem like total strangers. I finished dinner like a tornado and stood up to leave. "Zoe," Grant called out. "We need to talk." 4 "There's no need for the cold shoulder." Grant was reserved, a man of few words. Influenced by his strict father, he was disciplined and accomplished, rarely showing emotion. "Years ago, after Bella's father passed, she left the city with her mother. We lost contact. "I ran into her years later in the mountains. By then, her uncle had forced her to marry a violent drunk." No one could understand Grant's shock and anger back then. The proudest girl in the compound, reduced to a bruised mess by her ex-husband in just a few years. When Grant carried her out, Bella had curled up in his arms, trembling. "She suffered severe mental trauma and had a child with her. It took me two years to help her stabilize. I really don't want her to get hurt again." Maybe because my attitude had changed this time, Grant chose to explain the past to me. The pain in his eyes was real. He held a deep pity for his childhood friend. Even though my heart was already dead, seeing my husband moved to tears for another woman felt like a physical blow. He would never know that his moment of vulnerability was like a knife twisting in my heart. I steadied my breathing, clinging to my last shred of sanity. "So, you locked me in a cell?" Grant’s breath hitched. He tried to make me understand his dilemma. "You accused her of being a mistress in front of everyone. Do you know how damaging that is for a single mother?" "Grant, your monthly salary is 80 dollars. You give me 20, and you give her 60. And you call that innocent? "If you love her so much that you can't stand to see her suffer, why did you marry me? What is this home to you? "You didn't want her to get hurt, so you threw your lawfully wedded wife into confinement. Did you know that because of that, I'll be the laughingstock of the base? That I'll be fired from the textile factory with a mark on my record and never find work again?" Years of grievances from my past life poured out. Looking at the man I had loved for half my life, I laughed in despair. "Of course you knew. You just didn't care." Tears blurred my vision. I felt like a fish dying on the shore, suffocating in my own grief. He pulled me into his arms, that crisp, unique scent of his enveloping me. He held my waist, patting my back, seeming at a loss. "I didn't mean that, Zoe. Don't cry. "It doesn't matter if you don't have a job. I'm your husband. I'll support you for the rest of your life." 5 In my last life, he said the exact same thing. I’ll support you forever. Back then, I clung to my pitiful dignity and refused. I tried everywhere to find a job, but with a disciplinary record, no one dared to hire me. In the end, bruised and battered, I crawled back home like a stray dog and became a housewife. Grant didn't mock me. He was actually a decent provider; he kept his word. When we got married, he handed over his entire savings to me. Before I knew about Bella, I was genuinely happy. But after he locked me up for another woman and I lost my job, the gossip started. People whispered behind Grant’s back that I was a toad lusting after swan meat—that I wasn't good enough for him. The scariest part? To me, those vicious words felt like the truth. Day after day, I ground myself down until I became exactly what they said: an ignorant shrew who exploded at the slightest provocation. The past was unbearable to look back on. This time, I knew where my path lay. I wiped my tears, pushed Grant away, and whispered, "Okay." 6 "Grant, is... is Zoe back?" When Grant opened the door, Bella was standing there in a bright yellow quilted jacket, wrapped in a trendy red scarf that made her oval face look exquisite. "It's cold out. Come in." Grant stepped aside, habitually setting out slippers for her. Bella lowered her head with a shy smile, eyes full of affection. I knew why she was here. I watched her performance with a cold sneer. "Grant, I came to return the key. It's not right for me to keep living in your wedding house." Bella looked at me apologetically, though the provocation in her eyes was loud and clear. "Zoe seems to misunderstand us. I should move out so she doesn't feel upset." Grant was stunned and instinctively looked at me. I didn't react. Panic flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth but seemed at a loss for words. "Grant?" Bella looked confused, probing. "Does... does Zoe still not know?" Dead silence in the room. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. Grant, I..." Her eyes turned red instantly, as if she had been greatly wronged. "I'll move out right now and give the house back to you!" Grant grabbed Bella as she made a show of leaving. "Stop it! It's freezing outside. You have a child, where are you going to go? "Zoe, my family gave me that apartment when I started working. I let Bella and her son stay there so she could recover." "Mm." Looking at this pair of tragic lovers, I didn't want to waste another breath. Grant's face was pale, his eyes full of oblivious confusion. I stood up to clear my bowl, done with their faces. "Grant, I'm going to prepare for the exams. I can't control what you do outside, and I don't want to anymore." Grant tried to speak again, but I walked away without looking back. 7 In 1977, the country reinstated the National College Entrance Exams. Back then, life had ground me down. I never thought about changing my destiny through study. Reborn, I wanted a different life. No more sleepwalking through existence. I stopped caring about how many women or "sons" Grant supported outside. As long as we weren't divorced, he had to support this house too. I locked myself at home, buried in books. I asked nothing about his work. I showed zero interest in his progress with his "white moonlight." I stopped doing his laundry—plenty of people outside could take care of him. I stopped the warm greetings; let those tragic lovebirds comfort each other. When he came home, I was usually at the desk, head down. Days passed. We stopped communicating. Sometimes I heard his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door. I could feel him standing there for a long time. He seemed to want to say something. But I never turned around. Eventually, he would leave in silence. Sometimes late at night, I kept the light on to study at his usual desk. He had to read by the bedside, but he never complained. Occasionally, I sensed he wasn't reading, just leaning back against the headboard, watching me with a gaze I couldn't decipher. Only when I shifted in my chair would he look away. He knew I didn't want to talk to him. Necessary household comms were written on notes left on my desk before he went to work. We still slept in the same bed, but nothing happened. I was exhausted. After studying, I’d crawl into bed and pass out. Once, he saw I had dirty clothes and tried to wash them. He wasn't built for it. Watching my white shirt get stained with dye, my heart pinched. That was one of my few new shirts. He looked annoyed, like a child who made a mistake, but also secretly sad. "Sorry, I..." It was our first conversation in ages. "It's okay." I re-soaped the shirt. "Go do your thing. I'll wash my own clothes from now on. I don't need your help." Grant lowered his eyes, watching me. Even though I was still in this house. Even though I still slept beside him. Everything was different now.
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