His Regret, Her Rebirth

Seven years. That's how long I’d been trapped in a marriage where 'we' felt like a generous lie.

My husband, Ethan, barely spoke to me, his eyes always on Chloe and his burgeoning career, never on me.

Just weeks before the end, in a rare moment of cruelty, he looked me dead in the eye and said, 'I regret being with you. I never wanted kids with you.'

Those cutting words echoed as the screech of tires and the sickening crunch of metal filled the air, and then, nothing.

Thanksgiving dinner with the man who’d emotionally neglected me for years, his true affections always reserved for Chloe, his career connection.

The agonizing truth: my last thought was how utterly wasted my life with him had been.

But then, I jolted awake. Not in heaven, but in my grimy college dorm room, nineteen again, an ancient flip phone buzzing with a new message from Ethan: 'Hey, wanna grab a bite later?'

This was it: the very beginning of the doomed timeline, the moment our lives intertwined, leading to a decade of his neglect.

Only this time, I knew exactly what to do.