Chapter 3: Promises Across Lifetimes

But no one knew that this was actually the second time Mason and I had met in this life. Would anyone believe me if I told them?

It was a secret I carried alone, tucked away like a pressed flower in a forgotten book. Sometimes, I wondered if it was real—or just a dream I couldn’t wake up from. Maybe I was crazy.

In our previous life, I didn’t want to be just another piece in the family game, so I ran away.

I left in the middle of the night, suitcase in hand, heart pounding. I thought I was being brave, carving out my own destiny. Turns out, running is easy—what comes after is the hard part. No one tells you about the after.

After three years of hiding in a small town under a fake name, I was kidnapped by criminals demanding ransom. I never thought it could happen to me.

It was the kind of story you see on the news, never expecting it to happen to you. One minute I was blending in, the next I was a headline waiting to happen. I was just another missing girl.

Everything spiraled, and the kidnappers dragged me deep into the woods.

The forest was thick and dark, every branch a threat. I remember the smell of pine, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the terror that never let up. I was so scared.

I was beaten, insulted, utterly humiliated. They took everything.

They took everything—my dignity, my hope, my voice. I learned how to disappear, even when someone was looking right at me. I became invisible.

Later, Mason saved me. He always did.

He showed up like a ghost, silent and determined. I barely recognized him at first, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. He looked different. Older. Harder.

He’d become a sheriff’s deputy, going undercover alone. He even lost an arm in the process. All for me.

I still remember the blood, the panic, the way he gritted his teeth and kept going. He never once complained, not even when the pain must have been unbearable. He was stronger than anyone.

I recognized him instantly, but didn’t dare speak, pretending to be mute. I was too ashamed.

I was scared—of what he’d think, of what I’d done. It was easier to stay silent, to pretend I was someone else. I hid behind silence.

Being rescued by the man I’d once run away from marrying made me want to disappear.

I couldn’t meet his eyes. Every kindness felt like a debt I’d never repay. I owed him everything.

But Mason was good to me. To hide from the kidnappers, we holed up in an old ranger’s cabin. He gave me all the food, helped me drink water, bandaged my wounds. He took care of me. No questions asked.

He was gentle, patient. He hummed old country songs under his breath, trying to keep my spirits up. Sometimes, I caught him staring at the stars through the window, lost in thought. I wondered what he was thinking.

He spoke gently, telling me not to be afraid, that someone would find us.

His voice was steady, a lifeline in the darkness. I clung to his words, even when I didn’t believe them. They were all I had.

The kinder he was, the more bitter I felt inside. Kindness hurt.

It was a strange kind of pain, being cared for by someone you’d hurt. I wanted to apologize, but the words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t say a thing.

So when the kidnappers caught up to us, I threw myself in front of him and took a knife for him. Mason’s face was filled with shock. I’d do it again.

He shouted my name, voice cracking. I’d never seen him look so scared. He looked broken.

I saw panic and anger and something else in his eyes, but he quickly subdued the kidnapper and calmly stopped my bleeding.

Even in chaos, Mason was all action—never panic. He tore his shirt, pressed it to my wound, whispered that I was going to be okay. He made me believe it.

My voice was barely there. “Mason, can you promise me one thing?”

My voice was weak, barely a whisper. I could feel the world fading around the edges. Everything was slipping away.

I coughed up blood, feeling my life slipping away. So cold.

The metallic taste filled my mouth, sharp and bitter. I was so cold, but Mason’s hands were warm. I held on.

“Say it. You saved my life—I’ll do anything.”

He leaned in close, eyes shining. I could see the tears he tried to hide. He never cried.

I tried to smile, but couldn’t lift the corners of my mouth. “Next life, I hope I can meet you again. I hope you’ll give me another chance.” That’s all I wanted. Another chance.

It was all I could think to ask for. A do-over, a shot at getting things right. Maybe I didn’t deserve it.

I shouldn’t have selfishly run away and let Mason be ridiculed. Shouldn’t have run south and gotten him hurt trying to save me. (I ran away—left town, changed my name, hid as far south as I could go.)

Regret is a heavy thing. I wanted to make it right, even if it was too late. I owed him that much.

I hoped that in the next life, I’d meet you again. To make up for my mistakes, to redeem myself. Maybe then I’d be braver.

Maybe then, things would end differently. Maybe I’d be brave enough to stay. Maybe.

But now I finally understood—fate loves to toy with you, and it’s cold as ice.

No matter how hard you wish, some stories just aren’t meant to change. Fate is stubborn, and heartbreak is its favorite punchline. I learned that the hard way.