Chapter 3: Shadows of the Past

If someone else wears my former face, is that really me? Ethan, do you know how much you’ve disappointed me? Did he even care?

I watched him as he worked, wondering if he ever thought about the woman he lost, or if he’d buried those memories for good. The distance between us felt impossible.

The meeting ran late. After everyone left, only Ethan and I remained, gazing out at the city lights. He turned to me, scrutinizing, and finally said, “You’re not what I expected, but let me be clear: Savannah, don’t waste your time on me.”

The city outside was a blur of headlights and neon, a world moving on without us. His words were final, but I refused to let them break me. I just watched the skyline, pretending I didn’t care. But I did.

I said nothing. He probably thought my earlier confession was just a whim. If I’d known about Lily, I wouldn’t have revealed my feelings so quickly. Too late now.

But the words I said to him at our first meeting echoed his own words to me years ago, when he shyly confessed, “I know your name—Autumn Rivers. You’re... my future girlfriend.”

I remembered that moment so clearly—his nervous laugh, the way he fidgeted with his tie. It was the first time I truly believed in forever. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

That memory made me lose control. I asked, “Ethan, do you love Lily, or is she just a substitute? What would your late girlfriend think if she knew you found someone who looks just like her?”

My voice trembled despite my best efforts. I wanted him to flinch, to show some crack in his composure. Instead, he stiffened, his expression hardening.

He was furious. His usually restrained demeanor broke—his eyes cold and sharp: “Don’t mention her in front of me. You know nothing.” He looked like he might throw me out.

He spat the words out, each one a knife. For a second, I thought he might throw me out of the office. I stood my ground, refusing to look away.

No, I thought, the one who knows nothing is you. You have no idea.

I glanced at the ring on his left hand—the same ring we exchanged before I died. That’s why I hadn’t believed he truly had a new girlfriend. No one in a new relationship would still wear their ex’s ring.

The sight of that ring was a punch to the gut. I wondered if Lily ever noticed, or if she pretended not to care.

Ethan and I had a wedding before I died. Though I was frail from chemotherapy, he looked at me in my dress, eyes shining, and called me beautiful. The ceremony was just us. Afterward, he held me by the window, looking at the maple tree we’d planted together. He built a greenhouse around it, hoping I could see it bloom. “Do you think I can last until it flowers?” I asked. He kissed my forehead: “You can.”

The memory is a blur of sunlight and tears. I remember the way his hands shook as he buttoned my dress, the way he whispered promises against my skin. The maple tree was our hope—a future we’d never get.

But before the maple blossoms bloomed, we never got our forever. I was gone. I asked him to call me if they did, and to remember to eat if I didn’t wake up. His tears fell silently as he promised. I never woke again. I never saw the flowers bloom.

Sometimes, late at night, I wonder if the tree ever flowered, or if he let it die with me. Maybe it bloomed. Maybe it didn’t.

We’d been through so much. I couldn’t understand how he could treat someone else as me. I told myself it was just denial. But I couldn’t let go. I didn’t give up on the angel’s bet—if only because I couldn’t stand seeing him deceive himself like this.

It became a twisted sort of motivation. I told myself, If I could just make him see the truth, everything would fall back into place. But the world had moved on without me. I was the only one still living in the past.

One evening after work, I saw Ethan quietly watching Lily work, his gaze distant, as if searching for a lover he could never reach. It broke my heart. He would never know—the lover he longed for was right behind him, watching silently. I sighed, thinking: You don’t know how little time I have left.

The sight of him like that, so lost, made my chest ache. I wanted to reach out, to tell him I was right there, but the rules held me back. I was just a ghost in someone else’s life.

I didn’t understand why he kept Lily. Apart from her face, we had nothing in common. Lily was gentle, introverted, mute. Even my mother would have seen the difference between us after an hour, despite our identical faces. Did he even notice?

Maybe it wasn’t about me at all. Maybe Ethan just needed someone—anyone—to fill the silence. Lily was a blank slate, easy to project onto.

But then, on the 28th day after my rebirth, things got even more confusing. That day, I stopped the receptionist from bringing oranges—Ethan was allergic. He overheard and asked, “How did you know?” I brushed it off: “Hey, if I’m going to be your future girlfriend, I have to know these things.”

I flashed him a playful grin, hoping to break the tension. For a moment, he looked almost amused, but the suspicion in his eyes never faded.

He looked at me, wary. "Miss Cole," he said, almost sighing, "this isn’t a game. I already have a girlfriend."

His tone was clipped, almost defensive. I could tell I’d rattled him, but he hid it well.

I kept up the act: “She’s just a girlfriend, not a wife. I still have a chance, don’t I?” I must have seemed shameless, like the scheming villainess in every novel. Ethan must have thought so too. He ignored me and went into his office. I sounded ridiculous. But I didn’t care.

I watched his retreating back, swallowing my pride. I’d never been so forward in my life, but desperation makes fools of us all. Desperate times, right?

On the 38th day, during a company retreat, I witnessed the intimacy between Ethan and Lily. He fussed over her, even picking out the bones from her fish, watching the door every time she left the table. This was not the Ethan I remembered—he was never so restless.

The retreat was held at a lakeside lodge, the kind of place where the air smells of pine and old money. I watched them from across the dining hall, the way Ethan’s hand hovered near Lily’s, the way his eyes followed her every move. It was both comforting and excruciating. I couldn’t look away.

I began to question: did he really only love that face? Or was Lily more than just a substitute?

Doubt ate at me, gnawing away at everything I thought I knew. Maybe Ethan had changed more than I realized.

That night, maybe drunk and overwhelmed, I confronted Lily in the hallway. “Do you know you look exactly like Ethan’s ex-girlfriend? Do you love him? How can you stand being someone else’s stand-in?” She looked at me with sad, gentle eyes, then smiled. Before I could say more, Ethan appeared, furious, shielding Lily: “What are you doing?”

He was furious—protective, fierce. That used to be for me. Lily’s silent smile haunted me as I stumbled away.

He had once protected me like that. Now, I was the one he glared at. Five years had changed everything. I turned and left before my tears fell. Behind me, I heard him assure Lily, “You’ve never been anyone’s substitute.”

His words echoed in my mind long after I left. I wondered if he believed them, or if he was just trying to convince himself.