ManyWriters

When my mother inquired about my preference for our family's alliance marriage, I didn't hesitate—but this time, I didn't select Kendra Jewett.
Instead, I opted for Rosie Jewett, her beloved aunt.
My mother was completely perplexed. Everyone in Cavendale was aware that Kendra and I had grown up together. I had spent ten years pursuing her, convinced she was my one true love. I had once declared, with absolute certainty, that I would wed no one but her in this life.
A rueful grin played on my lips as recollections rushed back—memories of vows and affection that seemed unbreakable.
A rueful grin played on my lips as memories of my previous existence came flooding back. After wedding Kendra, she never once permitted me to be intimate with her. I had persuaded myself it was due to some deep-rooted trauma, a hidden wound she was too frightened to face. I believed I could mend it, that love would heal her.
But everything crumbled on our 50th wedding anniversary. I accidentally stumbled upon the sole room she had kept locked away from everyone. The walls were adorned with photographs of my cousin.
That instant cut through me like a blade—she wasn't averse to intimacy. She simply didn't love me.
With the pain of that realization still fresh, I vowed to myself that I would rewrite the ending in this life. I would provide her with the love she desired, the love I couldn't give her before.
But as I approached Rosie, dressed in my wedding attire, Kendra's face turned ashen, her eyes wide with disbelief. And then, it occurred. She broke. Her mind slipped into insanity before my very eyes.

Reborn to Rewrite a Love Triangle's Tragic Tale

It wasn't until that moment that I realized her online presence had undergone a complete transformation. My pictures now dominated her profile image, cover photo, and top post.


Her biography now stated, [Wyatt is the only one I truly love in this lifetime.]


This was an undeniable, public announcement—a frantic effort to express her emotions to everyone we knew.


Yet, oddly enough, her actions failed to evoke any response from me.


In our previous life, no matter how much I begged, she never showed even the slightest sign of care for me.


Now that I was no longer attainable, she was suddenly filled with remorse, desperately trying to make amends.


Kendra's affection seemed insincere and empty—merely an afterthought.


That day, I accompanied my colleagues to a relaxed get-together in the office dining area, her recent behavior still nagging at my thoughts.


9#09