Tale of Two Lives

When I was reborn, Horace was pressing me down on the bed.

His phone rang with a piercing ringtone, interrupting him from undressing me. After seeing the caller ID, the desire in his eyes instantly disappeared.

Throwing a random bath towel on my body, he said, "Leave. My new girlfriend doesn't like it when I smell like someone else."

Without another word, I got dressed and left without any complaint.

In my past life, I wasn't willing to leave, and clung onto him, throwing away all my dignity, and I even became crippled after saving him during a car accident.

As I wished, I became his wife, only because he said, "Let's have a baby. Then, even if I was no longer around, our child would be able to take care of you."

I endured several life-threatening medical crises during my pregnancy, but then I overheard him talking to Vivian, "Vivi, you'll be saved once the kid is born."

"But that's you and Rose's child, isn't it? Wouldn't she get mad if she knew?"

Horace's voice was ice-cold. "I only let her live because she could still give birth. Did she think that I'd fall for a cripple?"

In my anger, I pulled out my oxygen tube, and both I and my baby died.

Now that I was reborn, I would never walk the same path once more.

Seeing me turn to leave without the slightest hint of reluctance, Horace paused in the middle of getting dressed.

Probably thinking that I was playing hard to get, he stared at me mockingly. "Are you throwing a tantrum now?"

Under the dim lights, I replied grimly, "Weren't you the one who asked me to leave?"

Shouldn't he be happy that I was listening to him and not being clingy for once?

Horace stared at me for a few seconds, not saying a word, his eyes squinting slightly with an emotion that I couldn't quite read. "Well, I hope you've got it through your head this time. I better not see you clinging to me again tomorrow.

"No matter who my future wife will be, it will never be you."

"Yea."

As I spoke, a burden was lifted from my heart. It took an entire lifetime and two lives to understand his words, but this time, I still had a chance.

When we were younger, Horace, who was eight years older than me, lived next door to me. As a kid, I had loved chasing after him and playing with him.

After that, my family went bankrupt, and my father ran away with what little money we had left and abandoned the five-year-old me in the streets to die.

Horace was the one who carried me back to his home, and insisted on letting me stay no matter how much his parents were against it.

I remembered the warmth of his arms for a lifetime.

Back then, because I was suddenly abandoned, I developed a fear of being abandoned. Thus, I always never