Chapter 1: Divorce Papers and Second Chances

Everyone always said Cole Whitaker was cold and distant, but he followed me around like a lost puppy for ten years.

They called him the ice king, but to me, he was always there—steady, persistent, loyal in a way that made my heart ache. It was the kind of devotion people only talk about in old country songs or over pie at a roadside diner, the kind that sticks with you long after the lights go out.

Until the day someone shoved me into a wall of flames, and he didn’t even hesitate—he gave up everything, even his family fortune, just to follow me in.

I can still feel the heat, the panic. The smell of burning fabric, the world shrinking to nothing but smoke and pain. And then, through it all, Cole—my Cole—ran straight into hell. Not even a second’s hesitation. Just to reach me. That’s the kind of love nobody writes about anymore—the kind you think only happens in movies set in small towns where everyone knows your name.

Now that I’ve been given another shot at life, I’ve decided I won’t be the woman who kept him hanging on. This time, I’ll give him everything I’ve got.

I made a promise to myself, right there on the edge of life and death. If fate gave me another chance, I’d stop playing games. No more half-truths, no more hiding. I’d love him with everything I had, the way he always deserved.

Too bad it seems like he’s been given another chance, too.

You know, it’s funny how the universe likes to play its own twisted games. Seems like Cole’s got his own do-over, and this time, he’s not the man I remember. Maybe that’s fair. Maybe it’s karma catching up with me.

Autumn Lane, you still want to keep me on a leash, train me like before, huh?

His words hit like a slap. Sharp, cold. The same man who used to follow me with puppy-dog eyes now looked at me like I was nothing but a stranger. The ache in my chest was worse than any wound.

He cornered me and shoved the divorce papers into my hands.

The paper felt heavier than it should’ve, all those legal words blurring together. His signature already in place, like he couldn’t wait to be rid of me.

He said he’d never want me again. Not in this lifetime.

The finality in his voice was like a door slamming shut. I flinched. It echoed in my ears, sharp as broken glass.

Never.

The word hung in the air, cold and absolute. No second chances, no last-minute confessions. Just the end.

When I was eleven, someone broke five of my fingers.

I can still remember the pain, the way my hand swelled and turned purple. The world felt cruel and unyielding, and I learned early that nobody was going to save me but myself.

From that moment on, I swore I’d stand at the very top of the world.

I gritted my teeth, nursed my wounds, and made a silent vow: never again would I be weak. Never again would I let anyone see me cry.

No matter what it took. By any means necessary. Even if it meant losing myself.

If the world wanted to play dirty, I’d learn to play dirtier. I built walls, sharpened my edges, and promised myself I’d never be at anyone’s mercy again.

Later, I did a lot of terrible things, and in the end, someone got their revenge and pushed me into a sea of flames.

Honestly, it’s funny how your whole life can flash before your eyes in a moment like that. Regrets, mistakes, all the people you hurt along the way—it all comes back to haunt you.

As the fire swallowed me up, my mind went blank—

Time seemed to slow, the roar of the flames drowning out everything else. There was no pain, just a strange, floating emptiness.

Until a pale figure crashed through the smoke and pulled me into a tight embrace.

His arms were strong, desperate. Even as the world burned, he was there, holding me together when everything else was falling apart.

It was Cole Whitaker, my husband—the man who loved me with his whole heart, who’d never had a single stain on his name except for me.

He was the one good thing in a life full of broken promises and half-truths. I’d dragged him through the mud, and he never once let go of my hand.

As we burned together, I thought:

If there’s a next life, I swear I’ll give him everything. No more games. No more lies.

I meant it. I would’ve traded everything for just one more chance to make things right.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then—"Here are the divorce papers."

He slid them across the table, the sharp edge catching on a coffee ring I’d left behind. The words felt heavier than anything I’d ever held.

Sign them.

His tone was cool, almost businesslike. Like we were strangers finalizing a deal, not two people who’d shared a life.

The flickering lamplight sent my thoughts spinning.

The light threw shadows across his face, making him look even more distant. I could barely breathe, the air thick with all the things we weren’t saying.

The man across from me lowered his eyes, hiding the chill in them.

He wouldn’t meet my gaze. For a second, I almost believed he cared—maybe he was hurting too. But then he blinked, and the mask was back in place.

Cole Whitaker.

Even his name sounded cold now. Like something carved into marble, unchanging and unreachable.

Don’t do this.

My voice was barely more than a whisper. I reached for him, desperate. Just wanting to close the distance.

I tried to grab his hand.

My fingers brushed his, and for a heartbeat, I thought he’d let me in. But he jerked away, veins standing out on the back of his hand.

He was always so controlled, but now he looked like he was barely holding it together. The tension between us was a live wire, buzzing with everything we couldn’t say.

This was my first hour and forty-one minutes back in this life.

I counted every second, terrified that if I blinked, I’d lose him all over again. Time felt fragile, like glass about to shatter. God, I was scared.

Suddenly, I felt a strange sense of relief.

Maybe this was what I deserved. Maybe letting go was the only way to set us both free.

Cole had finally realized I was a woman who lied to him, who used him for his money and his feelings.

I’d always thought I could outsmart the world, but in the end, I only outsmarted myself. The truth was ugly. But it was mine.

He didn’t want me anymore.

The finality of it settled over me like a heavy blanket. For the first time, I wondered what it would feel like to start over, to be someone new.

I sat in a bakery, staring through the thin pane of glass. The bell over the door chimed every time someone walked in.

The scent of cinnamon rolls and fresh bread filled the air, but I barely noticed. My coffee grew cold as I watched the world move on without me.

Across the street, two figures were moving around inside the high school building.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the windows. I recognized the easy way Cole leaned in, the gentle way he smiled at her.

Cole had no idea I was watching him in secret.

I felt like a ghost, haunting the corners of his life. Invisible, forgotten, but unable to let go.

I watched him help that girl with her homework, and she was practically leaning into his side.

The sight twisted something inside me. She looked at him like he was the sun, and he let her. The ache in my chest was sharp and sudden.

Yeah, in this life, Cole should finally learn who’s really innocent and kind.

Maybe he deserved someone like her—someone soft, someone who hadn’t learned to fight for every scrap of affection.

But I still propped up my chin and sent the girl a message.

Petty, maybe, but old habits die hard. I wasn’t ready to let her have him without a fight. Guess I never learned.

Mia, how’re you flirting with your brother-in-law?

I typed fast, my fingers trembling. The words were sharp, but I couldn’t help myself.

Mia Lane is my little sister.

Technically, anyway. She was the golden child, the one everyone loved. I was just the shadow trailing behind her.

To be precise, she’s the real daughter. Me? I’m the adopted one.

The Lane family had always made that clear, even if they never said it out loud. Blood runs thicker than water, or so they say.

When I was twelve, Mrs. Lane picked me up on a rainy night.

I remember the headlights shining through the downpour, her umbrella sheltering me from the storm. It felt like a miracle, but I knew better.

Everyone thought it was just chance.

People love to believe in fate, but I knew it was all part of my plan.

But it wasn’t.

I’d orchestrated every detail, down to the tears on my cheeks and the mud on my shoes.

To make sure Mrs. Lane would find me, looking all pitiful in the rain, I actually broke my own leg.

The pain was nothing compared to the fear of being left behind. I’d do anything for a shot at security, even if it meant hurting myself. That’s just how it was.

I wanted wealth and security, to stand above everyone else, to never taste that bone-deep humiliation again.

Survival came first. Love was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

When Mia was sixteen, the Lane family found her and brought her home.

She arrived like a ray of sunshine, lighting up every room she entered. Everyone adored her instantly, and I faded into the background.

She was always kind, innocent, pure.

She never had to fight for anything. The world just handed her everything I’d bled for. Must be nice, right?

The things I had to break bones for, she got without even trying.

It wasn’t fair, but life never is. Some people are born with silver spoons; others have to steal theirs.

I hated her for it.

The kind of hate that sits deep in your bones, quiet and cold. I wanted what she had, and I’d do anything to get it.

Why did she never have to crawl through the mud and hurt?

I asked myself that every night, staring at the ceiling, wishing I could trade places with her just once.

That’s just the kind of ruthless woman I am.

No point pretending otherwise. I was made tough by circumstance. Not by choice. Never by choice.

So I suffered for it in my last life. Maybe Mia really is what everyone says she is—a girl as pure as an angel. Maybe I angered whatever higher power there is.

Sometimes I wonder if karma is real, or if I’m just cursed to repeat the same mistakes over and over.

In this life, even the one person who ever loved me turned his back on me.

Maybe that’s what I deserve. Maybe this is my penance.

I curled up on the couch, staring at the divorce papers on the coffee table. The couch was scratchy under my cheek.

The room was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. I stared at the neat stack of legal forms, feeling small and alone.

Cole, are you coming home tonight?

I typed the words, hesitated, then hit send. The screen glowed in the dark, mocking me.

The message had been sitting on my phone for four hours with no reply.

I checked the time again and again, each minute stretching out longer than the last.

Cole was always reserved. His friends joked he was a block of ice.

They’d laugh about it over beers, but I knew better. Underneath that cool exterior, he was all warmth—at least, he was for me.

But back then, I didn’t see it. I treated him like a loyal dog—

He’d follow me anywhere. Tail wagging, eyes bright.

He’d come running whenever he caught my scent, always reaching for my hand the second it was empty.

He made me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered. Looking back, I wish I’d held on tighter.

He never ignored my messages. If I sent one, he’d reply with ten, checking in on me.

He worried about me more than I ever worried about myself. His love was relentless, sometimes overwhelming, but I never doubted it was real.

But now…

The silence between us was louder than any argument we’d ever had. It was a void I didn’t know how to cross. It was killing me.

A new message popped up. I thought it was from him and grabbed my phone.

My heart skipped, hope flaring for just a second. But it wasn’t his name on the screen.

Disappointment hit, sharp and familiar. I should’ve known better by now.

It was from Mia—a long text and a photo.

Honestly, she always had a knack for making things worse.

Sis, I never meant to flirt with Cole. I just wanted to help you with Dad’s company, so he was just introducing me to some people.

Her words were sweet, but the photo said it all. Her smile was sunshine, and Cole stood right beside her, looking like he belonged there.

In the photo, she was smiling sweetly, standing right next to him.

They looked like a couple straight out of a Hallmark movie—perfect. Effortless. Happy.

It was like a punch to the gut. I hated how much it hurt.

I must have called Cole more than a dozen times.

Desperation made me reckless. Each call went straight to voicemail, my anxiety building with every unanswered ring.

He never picked up, and then just blocked me altogether.

The finality of it stung. I’d lost him, really lost him, and there was nothing I could do about it.

The truth is, Cole never understood how the world works. He’s just an academic.

He lived in his own world of books and lectures, untouched by the ugliness that shaped me. Maybe that’s why I loved him—and why I broke him. I guess that’s on me.

In my last life, to grab a share of Dad’s company from Mia, I asked him to help me win over the pharmaceutical companies.

I used him, plain and simple. I told myself it was for us, but really, it was just for me.

He never complained, just did whatever I asked.

He was too good for me, and I knew it. But I took advantage anyway.

I never considered that he was a top university professor with his own pride, and I made him swallow it to ask those people for favors.

He’d built his whole life on integrity, and I made him trade it for my ambition. I never stopped to think what that cost him.

There’s only one thing I remember clearly from my past life.

Some memories fade, but this one sticks. It’s the moment I realized just how much he loved me—and how little I deserved it.

I landed a deal, got drunk, and called him to pick me up.

The bar was loud, filled with smoke and laughter. I was the center of attention, but I felt empty inside.

All the big shots were there.

Their eyes were on me, waiting to see what I’d do next. I thrived on their approval, but it never filled the hole inside me.

I lounged on the sofa, watching him walk toward me, and snapped my fingers—just like you’d call a dog.

The room went quiet. Everyone watched, waiting for the drama to unfold. I was cruel, and I knew it.

He was a highly respected medical professor, a man who never lowered his head for anyone.

He didn’t belong in that world, but he walked in anyway—just for me.

Anyone would have thought he’d slam the door and leave.

That’s what I would’ve done, if I were him.

But what did Cole do?

He surprised everyone, including me.

He walked right up to me.

No hesitation, no anger. Just quiet determination.

Then, so naturally, he knelt down and took my ankle in his hands, slipped my high heel back on.

The room held its breath. He was gentle, his hands steady. For a moment, I felt like Cinderella, and he was my prince—except I was the one who’d turned the story upside down.

He looked up, his brows soft, like something out of a painting.

His eyes were soft, full of a love I didn’t deserve. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and I hated it.

It’s getting cold tonight. Don’t catch a chill.

His voice was low, warm. The kind of voice that makes you want to believe in happy endings.

Autumn.

He said my name like it was a prayer. Like I was something precious.

Autumn.

He always said it twice, like he needed to remind himself I was real.

That’s how he always said my name.

No one else ever said my name like that. It made me feel seen, even when I didn’t want to be.

But since I came back, he hasn’t called me that once. Not even once.

…

I’m a light sleeper, so I woke up when he came home.

The sound of the door clicking shut jolted me awake. I lay there, heart pounding, waiting to see what he’d do. I held my breath.

I lay there, wondering what he’d do when he saw me so defenseless.

Would he sit beside me, stroke my hair like he used to? Or would he just walk by, cold and distant?

But he just walked around me, didn’t even bother to cover me with a blanket.

He didn’t spare me a second glance. The ache in my chest grew heavier.

I sat up and threw the divorce papers at his back.

The papers fluttered to the floor, landing between us. Like a final goodbye.

He paused. His back was so striking, every line perfect.

Even in the dim light, he looked untouchable. I wanted to reach out, but my pride held me back.

Don’t mess them up. If I have to draw up a new set, you won’t get nearly as much.

His voice was calm, almost bored. Like we were discussing the weather, not the end of a marriage.

Bathed in moonlight, I sat there listening to his calm voice.

The moon cast long shadows across the room, making everything feel distant and surreal.

There was a shadow in his eyes, cold and dark.

I’d never seen him look at me like that before. It was like I was a stranger.

I’m not signing.

My voice was steady, even though my hands trembled. He couldn’t see how scared I was. I wouldn’t let him.

I stared him down.

We locked eyes, neither willing to back down. It felt like a standoff, the kind you see in old Westerns.

He seemed to expect it. He nodded. Fine—then we’ll go to court.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t argue. Just accepted it, like he’d already mourned the loss.

Cole, you jerk.

The words slipped out before I could stop them. It was childish, but I didn’t care.

I lunged at him, but he easily pinned me down.

He was stronger than he looked. His hands were gentle but firm, holding me in place without hurting me. He always knew just how much pressure to use.

The moonlight spilled over us as he pressed me into the couch.

For a moment, it felt like old times—just the two of us, tangled up in each other. But the tenderness was gone.

His hand closed around my neck—no tenderness at all.

His grip was cold, clinical. I searched his eyes for a trace of the man I loved, but found nothing.

I bit the web between his thumb and forefinger, but he didn’t seem to feel a thing.

He didn’t even flinch. It was like he’d shut himself off from me completely.

But then, suddenly, he let go.

The pressure vanished, replaced by an emptiness that hurt even more.

A gentle touch brushed my cheek.

His fingers lingered for a second, soft and hesitant. It was almost enough to make me believe he still cared.

So you can cry, too.

His words were soft, almost mocking. But there was a sadness there, too—a hint of the man I used to know.

He left those cold, cryptic words behind and walked out, leaving me alone in the living room. I pressed my hands to my eyes, as if that would keep the tears from spilling out.

The silence in the room was deafening. I tried to hold myself together, but the dam finally broke.

Don’t leave me.

I whispered it to the empty room, knowing he was already gone. Old wounds reopened, bleeding fresh pain.

That was the promise I made myself at ten years old—

Never to need anyone. Never to beg. But here I was, breaking my own rules.

Never to say those words again.

I’d built my whole life on pride. Now it felt like a cage.

I’m not signing the divorce papers.

I said it again, just to hear the words out loud. Maybe if I repeated it enough, it would come true.