A slap and then a sweet! It was his signature move these last few years.
I watched him leave, a bitter smile on my face. He called me his wife, yet he was having a child with another woman.
I opened the journal again. A new line of text had appeared.
“Because I was waiting for your reply, I missed my chance. I couldn’t get the spot behind her.”
I grabbed my high school yearbook. My jaw dropped. In the graduation photo, Joshua’s position had actually changed.
My breath hitched. My fingers trembled. The Joshua on the other side of this journal… could he actually change the future?
Before I could recover, another line appeared. “If you’re really Vivienne, then tell me, where am I standing in the graduation pictu-
re?”
I quickly replied, “You’re standing behind Mila.”
The journal went silent again. After a minute of waiting, I picked up the pen and pressed down hard, carving the words into the
page.
“Joshua Sterling, please, get out of my life.”
“Why? If you’re really Viv, don’t you know that I love you?”
He had pressed so hard on the last question mark that he’d torn the paper.
Chapter 1
1601
“Love? Because of your ‘love,‘ the day after that photo was taken, Mila sent a group of thugs after me. They stabbed me in the stomach, damaged my uterus, and left me barren!!”
“And the thirty–year–old you? He got her pregnant.”
With every word I wrote, the memories came flooding back, sharper and more painful than ever. I had tried so hard to forget, but for years, that nightmare had woken me in a cold sweat, night after night.
Thirteen years ago, Mila had begged Joshua to stand behind her for the photo. He’d refused. He stood firmly behind me, whisperi- ng that one day, we’d be standing together for our wedding photos, too. His sweet, clumsy confession had made my ears burn.
The next day, a furious Mila had cornered me in an alley with a dozen thugs.
When Joshua found me, I was lying in a pool of my own blood. He’d started screaming, a raw, terrified sound. He’d scooped me up,
his eyes wild, and ran like a madman to the hospital, begging the doctors to save me.
But it was too late. My womb was irreparably damaged. I would never have children.
Joshua had held me and wept, swearing a solemn oath to love and protect me for the rest of our lives, to never let me be hurt Joshua
again.
I never, ever imagined that he would one day cheat on me with the very person who had caused me that pain. That he would have
a child with her.
“Joshua, promise me. If you love me, you’ll leave me alone.”
“As far away as possible. Please?”
“I’m begging you.”
No reply came. I curled up on the floor, clutching the journal, and drifted into a restless sleep.
In my dream, I saw a seventeen–year–old Joshua, running frantically through a dark alley, his face etched with panic.
I woke with a start, chilled to the bone. It was the middle of the night. The thirty–year–old Joshua still hadn’t come home. Not a call,
not even a text.
But Mila’s social media was a different story. A new post every ten minutes. Thirty of them in total.
The first was a picture of Joshua placing the heirloom around her neck.
The second, him gently blowing on a spoonful of soup before feeding it to her.
The third, his head resting on her swollen belly, a look of pure bliss on his face as he listened for the baby’s kicks.
Each post was flooded with likes and congratulatory comments.
“Congrats, Joshua! Fatherhood looks good on you!”
“Told you he wouldn’t stay with that barren hen, Vivienne.”
“Vivienne was never good enough for him. Mila and Joshua are the perfect couple, a match made in heaven.”
Joshua had liked every single post. Maybe, deep down, he agreed with them.
I closed the app, my head feeling heavy and my body weak. I drifted back to sleep on the sofa.
In my dream, Joshua finally reached the end of the alley.
He saw me, pinned to the ground by a group of thugs. He saw Mila, a knife in her hand, plunging it toward my stomach.
“VIVI
