Back to Break my Dearests

The day I was reborn, I came across that anonymous post again.

“My sponsor is like a sister to me, but her husband gives me butterflies.

“I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself from feeling this way. Yesterday, we got down and dirty on the couch she bought.”

Back in my past life, this very post broke me.

In a fit of rage, I exposed their filthy secret to the world.

The girl I once gave my heart and soul to help succumbed to cyberbullying and took her life by jumping off a building.

After the funeral, my husband, Taylor Rogue, became a devoted and gentle man, only to lock me up in a mental institution the moment I put down my walls.

“You should spend the rest of your life atoning for ruining Ivy!”

With three years of pills and electric shock stripping away my sanity and dignity, I climbed to the roof and leaped.

When I opened my eyes, I was back to the moment everything began.

I stared at the post, my finger hovering over the screen.

In my previous life, I spat out a slur and shared the post, setting the internet ablaze.

With the online abuse getting to her, Ivy Bell fled to the rooftop.

I was there when she stepped off the ledge.

My husband, Taylor Rogue, was present as well.

He cradled Ivy in her pool of blood and looked up at me.

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

Three months later, he came back to me, tender and attentive as before.

The moment I lowered my defenses, Taylor signed me into a psychiatric ward.

“You took the love of my life away. You can rot in hell for all I care!”

I spent the next three years in a cage.

Between forced medication and electroshock therapies, I eventually escaped by jumping off the roof.

I opened my eyes, and I was back.

Taking a deep breath, I tapped into the comments.

Hot comment #1: “Wake up, girl! You’re biting the hand that feeds you!”

Hot comment #2: “I can tell that the guy works in academia by his hands. They are calloused and without a wedding ring. Kinda creepy if you think about it.”

Hot comment #3: “Following! I hope the wife goes full savage!”

…

I took screenshots of the post, comments, and IP address.

After documenting everything, I archived the lot to an encrypted cloud folder.

Logging out of my social media, I used an alternative account to search for Ivy’s handle and follow her.

I made sure to subscribe to her online presence on every platform.

With that, I logged back into my social media.

Taylor’s message was pinned at the top.

“Abby, I need to be at an important faculty dinner tonight, so I’ll be home late. Don’t stay up for me.”

Lifting my chin, I stared at the pristine beige sofa in the middle of the room.

The sofa was replaced last week because Taylor, his brows