- 04.
The night had grown late.
A cold wind blew in through the poorly sealed window, chilling me to the bone.
Ten years ago, when Tristan and I lived here, the window was always like this–never fully closed. Every night, the room would grow cold, almost unbearably so..
Back then, Tristan would hold me close, his body pressed against mine, sharing his warmth with me.
Those winters were harsh, but with Tristan by my side, they always felt like spring–bright, warm, and full of promise.
Now, lying alone in this bed, all I feel is the biting cold.
A dull, relentless ache spread through my chest. I lay there, staring blankly into the darkness.
Maybe I’ll just die here like this.
By the time my body turns cold and rigid, Tristan will be in bed with his first love, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, just like he used to do with me.
The phone on the nightstand buzzed suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts.
I picked it up,
up, and a friend request appeared on the screen.
as if he
It wasn’t from Tristan.
The request was from a person with a name that made my heart sink:
Rachel Whitmore.
Rachel Whitmore… Tristan’s first love, the “Lana” that the panda plush had referred to all along.
The woman who had truly won Tristan’s heart.
I accepted the request, my curiosity getting the best of me, and immediately went to look through her posts.
I couldn’t help but wonder.
Why?
woman, who resembled me in so many ways, deserve Tristan’s entire heart without lifting a finger?
d this w
www
hy did
Why had I given everything, only to end up with nothing? Why did I have to pay with my life?
What made her so much better than me?
Her most recent post was a nine–picture collage.
In every photo, Tristan was smiling, looking at Rachel with a tenderness that I’d never seen before. His grip on her hand was tight, feared losing her again.
top it off, Tristan was wearing the same suit he had worn to our wedding.
And to too
So, the moment he left me at the altar, he rushed to her, embracing his first love and taking these pictures.
They looked so happy.
As if I had never existed at all.
The caption that accompanied the photos was like a knife dipped in poison, stabbing deep into my heart.
“After ten years, you’re still you, and I’m still me. (Oh, by the way, we’re getting married in three days-)”
Three days?
I let out a bitter laugh.
Three days was when my mission would fail, and I’d be erased by the system.
It was also when Tristan would marry Rachel Whitmore.
The system’s voice suddenly echoed in my head.
“Disgusting…
Even the system sounded angry.
I shook my head.
The system continued, its tone softening.
“Lana Brooks, I can see it. You’ve done everything you could over these ten years.”
“TII give you a choice–choose how you want to die…”
Choose how I want to die?
I sighed.
Since I was going to die anyway, it didn’t matter how it happened.
The phone buzzed again.
It was a message from Rachel Whitmore.
She sent me an address.
“We’re getting married in three days. I hope you’ll come.”
Staring at those words, an idea started to form in my mind.
