Chapter 3: Memories

Isabella’s POV

I stepped outside and immediately saw Ethan leaning against the balcony railing, a cigarette in his mouth. He looked lost in thought, the smoke swirling around him like a cloud. As soon as he noticed me, he stubbed out the cigarette and flicked it away, his expression quickly shifting to one of clear annoyance.

Seeing him like this reminds me of when he was just 15—that rebellious boy who enlisted against his wealthy family’s wishes. That’s when he first started smoking. Back then, the smell of tobacco always bothered me. I mentioned it once, and after that, he seemed to smoke less around me. I never noticed it at the time, though. Our past life was consumed by endless arguments, overshadowing everything else. But looking back now, it feels like he deliberately avoided smoking in my presence. Why? Just because I said I didn’t like the smell?

My gaze flickered. In my previous life, I always believed ours was a marriage of convenience—a mere contract. I thought Ethan had no feelings for me, perhaps even disdain. To him, this marriage was just a way to satisfy his overwhelming need for control—nothing more. So why did he risk everything to save me? He was always so distant, our sharp words lacking any trace of affection.

Were these memories real, or was it just a dream? I can’t make sense of it all.

“Morning,” I ventured cautiously, unsure of my footing in this reconstructed past.

Ethan glanced at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Isabella,” he acknowledged stiffly, his voice devoid of warmth.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the chill of the morning and his demeanor. “I didn’t expect to see you out here,” I said, attempting to bridge the gap between us.

He scoffed, a harsh sound that made me flinch. “What? Did you need more room to sigh over your little lover from college?”

His words stung, and a familiar anger bubbled inside me. This was Ethan in his truest form: sharp, cutting, always aiming to wound. Our marriage was an endless loop of such exchanges, each word laced with venom.

I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the rising tide of my temper. “I came out for some air, Ethan. I didn’t realize that was a crime now.”

He snorted, turning to face the city skyline. “Everything’s a crime if you make it one.”

I’m trying to calm my throbbing head and sift through the jumbled memories to find the root of this argument. We had fought over so many things; almost any trivial matter could spark a dispute. But this particular moment in my past life seemed especially significant.

I vaguely recalled someone informing me about James's return from studying abroad around this time. In my previous life, I had been drowning in the misery of this marriage when I suddenly received this news. Driven by a wave of nostalgia, I had unconsciously dug out old photos from my college days - pictures of James and me. The people in those photos were smiling, proud, and confident, forming a stark contrast to my current life. Each photograph was a bittersweet sting, a reminder of what could have been.

“What’s this?” he asked, nodding towards the photos scattered around me.

I felt a sudden, defensive anger. “Memories,” I shot back. “Or is it forbidden to remember my life before it became whatever this is?”

Ethan’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he picked up a photo, his gaze burning into the paper. “You cling to the past because you’re too afraid to face the present,” he said, each word like a slap.

I recoiled, his words slicing through the fragile peace I’d built around my heart. “Maybe I wouldn’t need to escape to the past if my present wasn’t so unbearable,” I retorted, my voice trembling with suppressed emotions.

He dropped the photo as if it burned him and stood, his expression unreadable. “Is that why you’re still in touch with him? Because I’m such a monster?”

The word "monster" was like a spark igniting a powder keg. I glared at him with clenched teeth, furiously accusing him of being precisely that—a monster, a twisted being who had imprisoned me and destroyed everything in my life. My words lit a fuse in Ethan as well. He roared back in anger, repeatedly reminding me of my role as his wife, as if he needed to prove something.

Amid this explosive fury, we collided like two drowning souls, our rage pulling us into each other, rolling onto the bed in a desperate, heated clash. But this reckless sex didn’t last to the end. Halfway through, something strange happened—memories began flooding my mind, unexpectedly—memories of James, of Ethan, and... of that all-consuming fire.

As the memories faded, I found myself staring at Ethan, who was still leaning against the railing. I wanted to ask him about the strange memories swirling in my mind, but before I could get a word out, the doorbell suddenly rang. Ethan heard it too, but he turned his face away, stubbornly refusing to speak—clearly still upset. I sighed, stepping around him to head toward the door, but he quickly blocked my path.

"Don’t move. I’ll get it," he said, frowning as his gaze dropped to my feet with a hint of displeasure. I followed his eyes and realized that in the chaos earlier, I had forgotten to put on shoes before leaving the bedroom. The hallway wasn’t carpeted, and the cold marble floor sent a biting chill through my bare feet. I was about to turn back to get my shoes when, in the next moment, Ethan unexpectedly scooped me up into his arms. His face was still dark with frustration, and though his movements seemed brusque, he carefully placed me onto the cushioned sofa.

I sat there, watching him walk toward the door, feeling confused. Was this the same Ethan I had known? Had he always been this considerate?

There was a bright flash of light as the door swung open, and then she stepped in—a girl with curly brown hair who immediately lit up when she saw Ethan. But as soon as her eyes landed on me, her smile faltered, showing a brief flash of something like dislike. However, she was quick to fix her expression and put on a sweet smile again.

“Isabella! It’s been too long,” she said with a cheer that felt a bit too forced.

"Chloe," I replied, forcing a polite smile despite not feeling particularly warm inside. Chloe wasn't actually Ethan's biological sister. She was the daughter of a deceased friend, whom he had promised to look after. I'd always admired him for that, and I felt great sympathy for this girl who had lost her parents.

Chloe gracefully entered, approaching me with confident strides, intending to embrace me. I maintained my smile and complied. Until I could verify the authenticity of those memories, I didn't want to risk changing everything.

As Chloe pulled away from our hug, her face showed a familiar, concerned expression.

"I was worried when I saw you two earlier. I hope you are not arguing, because I saw your reaction wasn't right," Chloe began. "I'm sorry, Isabella. I didn't mean to bring up emmm…your ex, you know; the topic just happened to go there."

The ‘ex,’ as she mentioned, is James. This was also the cause of the quarrel between Ethan and I.

Chloe glanced at Ethan, seemingly gauging his reaction. Sure enough, upon hearing James's name, Ethan instinctively clenched his fists.

"Isabella, I know James means a lot to you, but that's in the past now. You're married to Ethan, and I just want you both to be happy."

Chloe held my hand sincerely, her eyes full of concern. In my previous life, I had been fooled by this act, believing she genuinely cared about my fragile marriage. But now, thinking carefully, many of my arguments with Ethan seemed to have been sparked by Chloe's seemingly innocent comments, including this news about James's return from studying abroad, which she had "accidentally" revealed to me.

In the past, whenever Chloe put on this worried face, I would have gratefully thanked her, then unleashed greater fury at Ethan's actions, fueled by her righteous instigation.

This time, however, I just looked at her calmly and interrupted. "Chloe, what are you trying to say?"

My response caught her off guard, and a flicker of confusion crossed Chloe's face. She quickly recovered, though, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Isabella, I'm just here to check on you. You've been arguing so much lately. In fact, Ethan mentioned..."

She paused, feigning reluctance, but her tone couldn't quite hide a hint of smugness. "Actually, Ethan decided to have me accompany him to the upcoming auction instead of you. I'm sorry, Isabella. You're Ethan's wife, and you should be the one attending these events. But considering everything that's happened, and how important this auction is, Ethan thought it best to avoid putting unnecessary stress on you. You know, among Ethan, you, and me, we're the closest family. I'll represent you well at the auction, don't worry."

Her words felt like a slap in the face. She had not only inserted herself into a position clearly meant for me as Ethan's wife but was also smiling as she taunted me.

The auction Chloe mentioned was an annual event among prominent families. In my previous life, I had missed it due to my cold war with Ethan. Little did I know that my mother's necklace, one of her most beloved pieces of jewelry, would appear at that auction. She had intended to give it to me as a wedding gift, but it had been used to pay off debts during a business crisis three years ago.

Chloe had taken my place and won the necklace. I remembered how, in my past life, she had deliberately worn it in front of me after the auction, flaunting it like a trophy. When I begged Chloe to let me have the necklace, she put on a troubled expression and said that it was a gift from Ethan, who had specifically instructed her not to give it away.

Her words had hurt me even more, especially when I had swallowed my pride and turned to Ethan for help. But his response had been a cold, distant stare, an indifferent shrug, dismissive of my feelings.

"It's Chloe's property, Isabella. She has the right to decide what to do with her things," he had said, his voice devoid of warmth. "Besides, it's just a necklace. Not worth making a fuss over."

Not worth it? I stared at Ethan, dumbfounded. His words echoed in the empty chambers of my heart, reminding me of how far apart we had grown. That day had left a deep scar, one I could feel the ragged edges of even now, as Chloe stood in our living room with that same smug smile on her face.

Chloe’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Really, Isabella, I’m just trying to help. You don’t need to be at that stressful auction. I can handle it for you.”

Her words, meant to comfort, felt more like patronizing pats on the head, and I bristled under the weight of her insincerity. Standing a bit to the side, Ethan watched the exchange, his brow furrowed, perhaps finally seeing the play of emotions across my face—the hurt, the betrayal, the raw edges of a wound that had never properly healed.

Before he could say anything, I cut in, my voice steady but ice cold. “I appreciate your...concern, Chloe. But let’s be clear—I am Ethan’s wife. I am the one who should stand by him, in good times and bad, in stress and in peace. It’s not just my right; it’s my obligation. No one else’s. I don’t need you or anyone else to manage my relationship with my husband or decide where I should or shouldn’t be.”