The sky is blindingly bright tonight. An ocean of stars stretches above me, they are more brilliant than I’ve ever seen. It’s ironic, really. I’ve lived a life of luxury and excess, with elegant trips, designer clothes and first-class everything. I never had to lift a finger. There was always someone to handle things, for me or instead of me.

And yet, I never once took the time to simply lie back and look at the stars. Now, I have no time left to do so.

I can feel the energy draining from my body. I’m sprawled on the pavement, my bones shattered and though I no longer feel the pain. I know these are the final moments of my life. And it hurts not are the injuries, but the truth. The cruel, bitter truth that I’m dying as a fool, betrayed by my husband, my best friend, and the people I trusted most.

If only I could go back, there’s so much I would do differently. So much I would fix.

📑📑📑📑📑📑📑📑📑

It all began that morning, July 1st, 2025.

Something inside me whispered that the day would end in disaster. My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Barely awake, I dragged myself out of my lavish bed and glanced at the caller ID.

Jeremy, he is my cousin.

The one person who never hesitated to tell me the truth, even when it hurt. Annoying as hell, always reminding me the world didn’t revolve around me, but I owed him my life. When I was little, he saved me. That’s the only reason I kept him close.

- “Jeremy, do you have any idea what time it is?” I groaned.

- “Marilyn, did you see the photos I sent you?” he asked urgently.

- “What photos? I just want to sleep,” I snapped, irritated.

- “They're of Gregory with Katherine, your best friend.”

My heart skipped a beat. And I say for me "No, no, no".

I opened my phone and saw them. There are my husband, the only man I’d ever loved. He is holding hands and kissing Katherine, walking into a hotel room.

Our hotel room. The same one where we spent our honeymoon.

I couldn’t breathe, and just I couldn’t think. There had to be an explanation, there had to be. My mind refused to believe it. But Jeremy’s voice pulled me back to reality.

— “I’m flying out right now,” I said, trembling. “Can you keep me updated?”

— “Are you sure you can handle this?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

— “I’m Marilyn Thompson,” I said coldly. “They’re about to learn exactly what that means.”

I booked the next flight to Ibiza. I didn’t even know what I was going to do. I threw on the first clothes I found, not bothering with hair or makeup. The fashion icon in me was gone, only a pair of oversized sunglasses hid my swollen eyes.

At the airport, I received emails I barely understood; about mentions of stock reductions, asset shifts and terms I never cared to read with seriously. Gregory and our partners always handled my investments. Now I realized how foolish I had been.

When I arrived in Ibiza, I booked a room in the same hotel. Jeremy met me in the lobby. He’d come along with a friend, Liam Montgomery, who was conducting business nearby but had twisted his ankle and stayed at the hotel. That’s how Jeremy saw it all.

I paid an obscene amount to get into Gregory’s room before they returned. Hours passed. Then, I heard the door.

They entered, laughing. And then the clothes flew. Moans followed. I hid in the closet, frozen, paralyzed. My best friend and my husband on the bed.

And then came the words.

— “With Marilyn, you’ll never feel what you do with me,” Katherine moaned.

— “Don’t mention that idiot. I married her for the inheritance. Now shut up and keep going,” Gregory growled.

That was it.

I exploded from the closet, hurling everything in sight. Gregory froze. Katherine screamed and grabbed the sheets, but I wasn’t about to let her hide. With strength that I didn’t know I had, I dragged her out of the room by her fire-red hair, naked, for the whole hotel to see.

— “Open the door, Gregory!” Katherine shrieked from the hall.

— “If you touch that handle,” I said, venom in every word, “you won’t just lose my money,I’ll take everything you own.”

She kept banging. Guests stared. Her body was marked by their “passion,” a disgusting display of betrayal and lust.

Inside, I threatened Gregory with a broken shard of glass, my eyes soaked with tears.

And then, he laughed.

— “You don’t have the guts,” he said. “You’ve never done anything on your own. All that money, all those schools, but you’re still a spoiled little girl who knows how to spend but not think. I married you for the deal. For your family’s influence. And let’s face it, after the first few nights, you were useless in bed too. Like everything else in your life.”

He pinned me against the wall, still naked, still reeking of her.

— “Go home, sweetheart. I control your money. I can ruin your parents. You need me to keep your perfect little life intact,” he hissed.

I shoved him away.

I don’t remember what I screamed, something like “I don’t care if everything burns,” or “never touch me again.” I opened the door, looked at Katherine, and said only this:

— “That’s what homewrecking whores deserve.”

And I left.

Later, I ran. I don’t remember how it happened exactly. Just the headlights. The screech of tires. The sound of my own body smashing against the asphalt. I saw their faces inside the car, Gregory and Katherine.

They didn’t stop. They left me there, broken and bleeding on cold pavement. I am alone.

Now, the stars are fading. So is my vision. So is everything. Jeremy is dead. He died trying to protect me. Those bastards will get away with it all.

How unjust. How unbearably unjust. Darkness swallows everything.

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Until

A warm light. A familiar voice.

— “Miss, it’s late. Your parents will be upset if you’re late for the meeting with the Smith family. Wake up now,” says my nanny, July.

I open my eyes. I’m in my childhood bedroom.

I sit up. My body is uninjured. My hair is styled the way I wore it five years ago. I check the phone. My old phone.

January 7, 2020.

The day I got engaged to Gregory. I run outside to the garden, heart pounding.

There she is "Cookie". My dog. The one who died on my honeymoon.

She runs to me, tail wagging.

I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But I’ve been given another chance.

I’ve returned to life, more than five years in the past.

I don’t know if I deserve this miracle. But I’ll take it. And this time, I will be a new Marilyn.

My nanny kept insisting I come back inside, that I had to get ready. My parents would be sending the car to pick me up in a few hours. I remembered it all so vividly, how it happened the last time. I had been ecstatic that day, I was going to get engaged to Gregory. It all felt like the perfect fairy tale. I had been in love with him since university.

Now that I look back, I realize I was the only one showing any real emotion. He barely managed a smile. I was twenty-two and had worked hard to finish my postgrad studies so I could become the ideal wife for Gregory. After all, he was ten years older, seemed refined and chivalrous, but in my dreams of love, I hadn’t paid attention to the details.

Gregory was tall, with warm brown skin and a serious but pleasant face. His mysterious gray eyes had always captivated me. He dressed sharply, and although he was slim, his arms were strong. I have to admit, he was easy on the eyes.

But now, things would be different. Knowing that five years from now he’d be rolling around in bed with my best friend, and practically calling me frigid, when in truth, I had never been with anyone but him, I thought everything was fine back then. If he had been honest, I would’ve tried harder, done more. But what am I doing? Blaming myself for his idiocy? No. I refuse to do that. I won’t be the guilty one anymore.

I will take control of my life, and I won’t let anyone mock me again.

After showering, I saw the delicate blush-pink dress neatly laid on my bed, the one I wore five years ago. Back then, I had dressed like an angelic princess: pure, noble, innocent. But not this time.

This time, I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted Gregory to see exactly what he would never have in his arms. I wanted him to witness what he could have had, and would never, ever own.

I smiled and went to the closet, pulling out the dress I bought in Vienna—the one my friend Samantha, whom my mother never liked, had convinced me to buy. I’d never had the courage to wear it before.

But now was the moment to find out just how stunning I could look in it.

By noon, we arrived at the hotel. When my parents saw me walk in wearing that dress, they were the first to be shocked. The dress shimmered in silver gray, made of semi-transparent fabric, with a single shoulder strap that left one arm and shoulder exposed. It clung to my figure like a second skin. Though it was floor-length, the high slit down one side showed off my long legs—and if I wasn’t careful, it could reveal even more.

Maybe I didn’t have Katherine’s voluptuous curves or her flaming red hair and full lips, but my body was toned, thanks to years of aerobic classes.

The moment my mother saw me, she pulled me aside by the arm with a disapproving glare.

—“Have you lost your mind, Marilyn? That’s not the dress I picked for today. You look cheap,” she hissed.

—“Mrs. Rachel,” I snapped, “aren’t you offering me like some kind of merchandise? Then this packaging works better.”

I had never dared speak to my mother that way before. But if my fate was to end up run over by my cheating husband and my backstabbing best friend, I’d rather meet any other ending than that ridiculous, devastating one.

—“You must’ve hit your head,” my mother retorted. “You’ve always been the most eager for this engagement with Gregory Smith.”

—“Maybe I was,” I said bitterly, “but not anymore. I’m too young to get married.”

Then came the sharp pain in my arm as my father grabbed me hard. For the first time, I realized he wouldn’t back down.

—“You wanted this marriage, insolent girl,” he growled. “I won’t risk all my investments and contracts with the Smiths over one of your whims. You’ll marry Gregory, and you’ll stay with him until you die. Whether you like it or not.”

Gregory’s words echoed in my mind—the ones he spat at me in that hotel room when I found him with Katherine:

“Do you think your parents will be happy when they find out? They’re the ones who care the most about you staying married to me. So suck it up and think twice.”

I glared at my father, but his eyes were colder than ever. He took my chin and forced me to look at him.

—“In this house, things are done my way. You’re marrying that man because he guarantees me investment access through his family’s firm. You were the one most interested in this—so now you’ll deal with it. After all, he’ll be the one paying for your luxurious life.”

That’s when I realized I was just a bargaining chip for them. I was alone in avoiding the fate that awaited me. But I still had time, now that I could see clearly, not through the naïve eyes of the foolish girl I used to be.

Guests were arriving, and I had to walk into the reception hall with my parents. Everything was just as I remembered. At one table sat Katherine, smiling sweetly at me. I wondered how long the betrayal had been going on. I wanted to run, but I held myself back. I had to be smart. Strategic.

There was something odd in Gregory’s gaze now. He had never looked at me with desire before, but now he did. Apparently, the dress had the intended effect.

He smiled and sat beside me.

Once, that would’ve melted me.

But now, I could only picture him and Katherine—twisted in the sheets, groaning in pleasure, mocking me. All I felt now was disgust.

I couldn’t even look at him.

Everything was unfolding like before. Our parents gave their speeches. Gregory’s eyes practically undressed me, but all I could feel was revulsion. Soon, he would speak, and the formal proposal would come. I had to stop this.

I stood up, and as I turned to him, I "accidentally" knocked over a glass of red wine, right onto my dress. Gregory jumped to help, but all he really wanted was to touch my leg. I pulled away, annoyed, and rushed to the bathroom.

My nerves were on edge. I didn’t know what to do.

Moments later, Katherine walked in with that sweet voice of hers—so grating now—and tried to comfort me.

—“You must’ve gotten nervous being so close to Gregory. Let me help you so you can go back out and make the engagement official,” she said with a sugary smile.

—“Do you like Gregory?” I asked her directly.

—“What are you saying, Marilyn? I know he’s the man you’re in love. I’d never look at him that way,” she said innocently.

—“Are you sure? He’s very attractive,” I pressed.

—“Even if he were, I’d never be interested. You’re acting strange today,” she said, shifting uncomfortably.

I didn’t push further. My mother entered then, and with one cold glare, Katherine left immediately.

My mother looked me dead in the eye, and slapped me hard across the face.

—“You’ve always been stupid. But at least you used to try to hide it. Now you’re going back out there, putting on your usual idiot smile, and accepting Gregory’s proposal,” she said flatly.

I stared at her, stunned.

I couldn’t believe my mother had just said that.

I barely managed to respond, “Let me freshen up a bit.”

She left. I took a deep breath. In the mirror, I spotted a small window.

Without thinking twice, I climbed up and slipped through it.

And then I ran. I didn’t know where to go. I had no money. But I could not accept that engagement. Not now, knowing what it would lead to.

I was so panicked that I ran straight into the street without looking. Tires screeched—

A car slammed its brakes.

I trembled, paralyzed with fear. I’d nearly been run over.

A tall man stepped out of the car, handsome, with dark hair and deep, intense eyes. He rushed toward me.

—“Are you all right, miss?” he asked.

My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed into his arms.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the look in his eyes, etched forever into my memory.

When I wake up, I find myself in a hospital bed. The last thing I remember is fainting in the arms of that handsome man. I have no idea how I got here—until I hear a familiar voice.

—"I knew you wouldn’t do the same as in your past life," says my cousin Jeremy, surprising me with that statement.

I'm stunned to see Jeremy, and at the same time, happy that he’s alive. How could I have forgotten to make sure he was okay? I had only thought about changing my fate with Gregory—I didn’t want him in my life at all. As a few tears fall, I feel a sense of peace knowing Jeremy is safe. I still remember what happened the day we both died.

It was the first day of July 2025 in my previous life. After leaving the room where I had discovered my husband cheating on me with my best friend, I ran desperately down the hallway to the elevator and took it to the lobby. Everyone was talking about the naked woman in the hallway. I sat there crying endlessly, not knowing what to do, when suddenly I felt someone place their hand on my shoulder.

—"Don’t just sit there. Marilyn Thompson was never a crybaby," I heard Jeremy say. Limping, he helped me out of the hotel.

I was crying so hard I could barely see what was happening around me. We got into the back of a luxurious car, and Jeremy just held me. I think if I’d been alone, my heart would have stopped right there in that hotel lobby. I had no idea where we were going until we arrived at a beautiful house by the beach. I know I fainted, but I remember someone carrying me inside. It couldn’t have been Jeremy—his ankle was injured. I also remember the woody scent with notes of pineapple, rhubarb, and iris from the person holding me.

When I woke up, I was in one of the rooms of that house. Jeremy was asleep in a chair. I sat up, still unable to speak with strength, and managed to whisper “Jeremy” twice. Miraculously, he woke up and sat next to me. He’d always been a heavy sleeper.

—"You’re such a sleepyhead, Mari. How are you feeling?" he asked me.

—"I hate them. I hate them so much. They need to pay for what they did to me. How could I have been so blind?" I answered, deeply hurt.

—"You need to calm down and think about what you're going to do. Gregory’s been texting like crazy," Jeremy said, handing me my phone.

That shameless man had sent me message after message—threats, mostly—warning me of what could happen if I didn’t forget everything. Not a single message showed remorse or asked for forgiveness. He wasn’t even pretending to be the stereotypical guilty cheater. It was clear what he really feared: losing the money and social standing that my last name had given him. When we got married five years ago, his family was new money, not part of our country’s elite. My family, on the other hand, belonged to one of the most prestigious bloodlines. To cement their status, they needed a Thompson—and I, so foolishly in love, was the perfect victim.

In the last message, he asked me to meet him at a famous seaside restaurant with a terrace over the ocean. I knew you had to book that place in advance, so he likely planned it for a date with Katherine. The thought made my blood boil. I wanted to curse him out in ways I didn’t even have the vocabulary for. But after talking with Jeremy, I decided to meet Gregory at Punta Arabí, a famous hippie market near the beach of S’argamassa in Ibiza. I knew my detestable husband hated places that weren’t upscale or exclusive—so maybe, before ending everything, he deserved to suffer a little.

Jeremy and I got there first, and he made sure to position himself close to where I’d be meeting my cheating husband. He needed to record everything Gregory said. I never imagined I’d be doing something like this, but my world had changed in a matter of hours. Nothing would ever be the same again. On the way out, Jeremy's friend wasn’t home, so he left him a voice message about everything that happened. The reply was short: "Be careful." Maybe we should’ve paid more attention to that warning.

I was just outside a clothing shop when I felt someone standing behind me.

—"You and your incomprehensible taste for these ‘weird’ places. I thought you’d sworn off them," Gregory said with disdain.

—"That was my mistake—doing only what made you happy. But in the end, it didn’t matter," I replied bitterly.

—"Buy whatever you want. I’ll pay for your ridiculous tastes. Just keep playing the loving wife," he sneered, annoyed that people were brushing past him.

—"You think I’d ever be with you again after seeing you rolling around with my so-called best friend? I’d feel nothing but disgust if you touched me again," I shot back.

—"Touching you never thrilled me either. I only kept trying in hopes you’d give me a child. But even for that, you’re useless," Gregory said, his disdain unmistakable.

—"So now you plan to have a child with Katherine? You looked pretty cozy in her arms," I said, trying not to cry.

—"She’s no ornament in bed. She gives me pleasure you never could. But let’s be honest—she’s not the one with the valuable last name. She knows her place. And you should know yours. You’re my wife, Marilyn. Bland as you are, even dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewelry, no one would look at you—unless they wanted what little money you have left," he added with a smug grin.

—"What little money? What are you talking about? Even without my parents’ wealth, my grandmother’s inheritance is enough for me to live comfortably," I said, confident.

—"You naive fool. You let me handle that inheritance ‘however I saw fit.’ I invested it in my businesses. Your partners were thrilled. The money you spend? It comes from me. Everything you buy, every charity or cultural event you support—I fund it. You have nothing, Marilyn. Just the Thompson name. That’s your only value and the only reason you’re still my wife. So go home, wait for me to return from my ‘business trip.’ Greet me nicely. Try to look pretty. Now that you know the truth, no need for gifts or sweet words. Let’s just keep trying for a baby. I’ll let you choose if we do it naturally or with medical help. Believe me, it’s an advantage. You’ll be the mother of the Smith heir. See? I’m not that bad."

I slapped him hard. It echoed through the market. People turned to look. His cynicism hurt deeply. I could see the fury in his eyes. I had always treated him with love, respect, and tenderness. I had once thought he was the best man in the world. But now, I saw his true face—a man obsessed with status and success, who never valued my feelings, incapable of love. He lunged at me. I backed up and bumped into a table, knocking over a mirror that shattered on the ground. I bent to pick it up, grabbing just one piece before Gregory grabbed my arm and tried to drag me away. He squeezed so hard I thought my bones would break. He didn’t care that people were watching.

—"Let her go, you idiot! Can’t you see you’re hurting her?" Jeremy shouted, limping toward us.

—"Your stupid cousin. So you’re the reason for all this. You left your family because you never fit into the business world, and now you're dragging your cousin into your poverty," Gregory spat.

Jeremy didn’t reply. He simply placed his hand on Gregory’s arm and forced him to release me. I thought Gregory would leave—but after a few steps, he turned back and punched Jeremy, who stumbled due to his injured ankle and fell hard. Gregory then grabbed my arm again, but I stabbed him with the shard of mirror. He winced but wasn’t seriously hurt. He gave me a look of hatred—then noticed the recording device in my pocket. He stepped back and left.

I was devastated. Jeremy had gotten hurt because of me. I helped him up, only to be surprised when he started laughing.

—"I never thought I’d see Marilyn Thompson attack someone—least of all her beloved husband, Gregory Smith. The fierce little Mari is still in there," Jeremy said, proud.

We walked slowly out of Punta Arabí. It was dark, and the streets were deserted. Suddenly, a car pulled up next to us. Gregory got out, his face twisted in rage, veins bulging. He shoved Jeremy to the ground, hurting his ankle worse, then tried to force me into the car. When I resisted, Katherine got out and grabbed my hair.

—"You bitch! You’re going to pay for humiliating me!" Katherine screamed.

—"Just take the recording equipment," Gregory said coldly.

I held onto it tightly. Then Fabian grabbed my jacket and pulled me toward him. He pulled a gun from his pocket. I knew then he’d lost his mind—his whole body language screamed it.

—"Guess I’ll have to give up on the Thompson name by becoming your widower. You won’t ruin my image. This will just be a failed mugging of the Thompson cousins."

He fired. I don’t know how Jeremy managed to stand, but he took the bullet for me. We both fell to the ground. The shot was fatal. He wasn’t breathing. Blood poured from his chest. House lights flicked on. My hands were covered in blood. Gregory and Katherine jumped in the car in a panic. I screamed for help. My heart pounded. No one came. I stood up and ran down the street, yelling, trying to find help. Then the car came back—and Gregory ran me over.

That’s why seeing Jeremy alive now moved me so deeply. And from what he said, he remembers it too.

—"What do you plan to do now, Mari?" he asks me.

—"Change our fate," I answer.

He smiles. Then the handsome black-haired man I saw before waking up in the hospital walks in. He approaches, and I smell that same woody scent with pineapple, rhubarb, and iris—the same scent from the man who carried me into that house in Ibiza.

—"This is my friend, Liam Montgomery," Jeremy says. "Liam, this is my cousin, Marilyn Thompson."

—"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Thompson," Liam says with a smile.

For some reason, his deep gaze captivates me. He’s visibly handsome, and I feel like I’ve seen him before—though I can’t remember where. I just smile and say, "Thank you for helping me." He smiles in return.

I think that if he’s Jeremy’s friend, he must be a good person. But I quickly push away any romantic thoughts. Life—or rather, death—taught me it’s better to stay alert and never trust someone until you’ve seen every side of them.