Part 1My Future Self Warned Me in a Diary to Run

After losing my baby, I spiraled into a severe mental illness.

My husband, Ryan, brought in the best psychologist and meticulously cared for me for over half a year.

To stop being a burden to him, I diligently cooperated with my treatment.

The doctor said keeping a diary would aid emotional healing, so I started writing.

One day, I opened my diary, and a line of text suddenly appeared on the page.

"Leave Ryan, or else…"

"You'll die a terrible death."

My first thought upon seeing these words was –

My condition was worsening again.

But I checked repeatedly.

The words on the paper didn't disappear.

Instead, as I struggled to process it, more red text began to surface.

Line after line, the diary read:

"Maya, I am you, ten years from now."

"I know you might not believe any of this, but I still have to tell you."

"Ryan betrayed you long ago. Your miscarriage this time was his doing."

"Three months from now, Ryan will take you on a vacation to Bali. You'll get pregnant again there, but that child won't survive either."

"Eventually, your condition will worsen, and Ryan will admit you to a psychiatric hospital."

"While you're there, Ryan will clean out your accounts and marry his mistress, starting a family with her."

"So… now, leave him."

"Don't let yourself be trapped like this."

The handwriting was familiar, the tone too.

But the content, line after line, was utterly foreign.

I stood rooted to the spot, unsure how to react.

Until the bedroom door pushed open, and Ryan walked in.

He'd been working overtime until now, and collapsed beside me, exhausted.

His gentle tone carried a hint of playful coaxing and a desire to please.

"Maya, feeling any better today?"

"I've been so busy with work lately, couldn't come home early to be with you."

"Once I'm done with this busy period, how about I take you to Bali for a vacation?"

Bali?

A cold dread settled in my stomach.

My gaze unconsciously darted to the diary on the table.

The seed of doubt quietly took root in my heart.

I slowly lowered my head, scrutinizing the man in my arms.

His handsome face was etched with deep fatigue.

After we lost the baby, Ryan was heartbroken too.

But he was afraid of upsetting me, so he never dared to show it in front of me.

Several times, I saw him secretly wiping away tears on the balcony.

Yet, he'd turn around and pretend nothing was wrong, forcing a smile to comfort me.

All these years, without his patience and companionship, I might not have made it this far.

Ryan, who loved me so much, Ryan, who was so gentle and devoted to his family.

Could he really… be cheating?

The diary incident was too bizarre to comprehend.

I couldn't voice the doubt swirling in my mind.

After a moment's hesitation, I picked up his phone.

The password hadn't changed; it was still my birthday.

The wallpaper hadn't changed; it was still a picture of us from when we were eighteen.

There were no social media or entertainment apps on his phone.

His SnapChat list, apart from countless work messages, only had me.

Everything seemed so normal, no flaws whatsoever.

My racing heart calmed a little.

Then, I sighed helplessly.

Perhaps my condition was getting worse again.

My psychologist had said that long-term use of psychiatric medication could cause auditory and visual hallucinations.

It looked like I'd have to see the doctor again tomorrow.

Just as I was about to put the phone back.

A message tagging Ryan suddenly appeared in the WhatsApp work group.

Before I could even open it.

The diary on the table fell to the floor, startling Ryan awake in my arms.