Chapter 1: Promises in Autumn

Reborn, this time I did everything I could to avoid crossing paths with Jonathan Whitaker. Each day felt heavy with the pressure of fate, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for me to make the same mistakes. I could almost smell the sharp tang of autumn air as I hurried past the places he might be, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. I wasn’t going to let old promises or wistful glances trap me again. In that quiet moment at the start of my new beginning, I promised myself—deep down, with every fiber of my being—that I would dodge every intersection where Jonathan might appear, no matter how hard it got.

He told me he wouldn’t be coming home for Thanksgiving, so I packed my bags and headed back to Maple Heights alone, the train rumbling beneath me as if carrying me further from everything I used to know.

Thanksgiving in Maple Heights was always a swirl of burnt orange leaves swirling across the sidewalks, the scent of wood smoke drifting from backyard bonfires, and the distant echo of a football game playing on someone’s TV. Sometimes, I’d catch a whiff of pumpkin pie cooling in a neighbor’s kitchen. I told myself this was better—no awkward silences, no forced smiles, no pretending to be a family. The loneliness stung, sharp as the cold wind outside, and I found myself clutching my mug a little tighter as I stared out the window. But it was a clean ache, not the old, tangled hurt that used to twist in my chest.

He helped Lauren Sterling rent the house next door, so I moved out. For a moment, I just stood there, suitcase in hand, feeling a rush of anger and then a cold wave of resignation. I’d always known I was replaceable, but seeing it happen so easily made my decision even clearer.

I didn’t leave a note or any trace behind. I slipped away quietly, like someone leaving a party that never felt like theirs to begin with. The air outside was brisk, filled with the distant sound of leaves crunching underfoot, and the world felt wide open and a little scary. But as I breathed in the chill, I relished the freedom that came with it.

He decided to stay and work at the university, so I applied to the Northwest Institute of Technology. I still remember the way my hands shook as I typed in a new college code, the screen glowing in the dim light of my bedroom. It felt like rebellion—like I was finally choosing something just for me.

It was almost thrilling, punching in that different college code on my application. I could practically hear my future self cheering me on, the image of myself walking across a new campus flashing in my mind: the crunch of leaves under my boots, the buzz of students in the quad, maybe even a steaming cup of coffee in my hand as I hurried to class. The Northwest Institute was far—far enough to start over, far enough to finally breathe.

In my previous life, even when I was old, our own son tried to persuade me to divorce him. The memory came back in flashes—my son’s earnest, pleading face, the way his words cut deeper than he could ever know. My chest tightened just thinking about it. I’d always believed love could fix anything. I was so wrong.

All so that, after a hundred years, those two star-crossed lovers could finally be buried together. My whole life had been a detour in someone else’s story, as if I was just a chapter in their epic. But not this time. This time, I was determined: I’d write my own.

Staring at the acceptance letter in my hands, I nearly burst into tears. The paper shook between my fingers, the embossed university crest catching the sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. My heart hammered with a wild mix of relief and fear. This was real. This was my shot.

No one knows that I was reborn. I kept that secret tucked away, hidden like a cherished photograph or a childhood diary. It was mine alone—a strange, fierce comfort.

At the last moment, I changed my application to the Northwest Institute of Technology. I remembered hovering over the online form, my finger trembling above the mouse. One click, and everything shifted. In my mind, I could almost hear the static of the old life I’d left behind, fading away as a new future opened up.

Even my guidance counselor was surprised. “Didn’t you say your fiancé was staying at the university here? Why are you going so far away for college? Are you two going to try long-distance?”

Ms. Turner’s office always smelled like lemon disinfectant and dusty paperbacks. She peered at me over her glasses, genuinely concerned, her curiosity sharp and familiar. I could feel the weight of small-town gossip swirling just behind her question.

At the mention of Jonathan Whitaker, I pictured his tall, confident figure from our youth. He’d always been the golden boy—strutting around in his letterman jacket, that easy smile on his face, the kind of guy who got crowned Homecoming King and waved to the crowd at halftime. I remembered him leaning against the fence at the football field, hands in his pockets, looking out at the world like he already owned it.

Actually, when it came to Jonathan, everyone thought I was marrying up. Neighbors would nudge each other in the checkout line at the grocery store, whispering about how lucky I was. As if landing Jonathan was the biggest win a girl from Maple Heights could ever hope for.

He was ambitious and handsome, while I only had the right to stand by his side because of our childhood engagement. It was a kind of inheritance, not love. I’d grown up with my name and his linked in church directories, mentioned together in the local paper, expected to ride the homecoming float with him.

I smiled and replied loudly, “Ms. Turner, people date who they want now.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt. I wanted her to believe it—I wanted to believe it too.

“My engagement to him is just something left over from old family expectations—there’s nothing special about it!” I shrugged, trying to sound casual, like it didn’t matter at all. But inside, my heart was pounding. I wondered if she could see right through me.

Maybe not expecting me to be so clear-headed, Ms. Turner patted my shoulder, her eyes shining with approval. Her hand was warm and steady. For a moment, I took a shaky breath and let myself smile—a real smile. I felt seen, not as someone’s fiancée, but as myself.

Leaving school, I joined the crowd of students and walked home. Lockers slammed and sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as I made my way through the halls. A pep rally poster fluttered on the wall, and for once, I felt like I was part of the world moving forward—not just standing still.

In my previous life, I never even went to college. Sometimes I’d watch campus movies on TV—students eating pizza on dorm room floors, cramming for finals, laughing with friends I’d never meet. That world always felt impossibly far away, like something that belonged to other people.