At my retirement ceremony, my professor husband, who had always treated me coldly, took my hand and invited me onto the stage. In front of everyone, he put an arm around my waist and tenderly smoothed my hair.
Just as I thought the clouds had finally parted, he suddenly shoved me to the ground and sternly announced that he was divorcing me to marry his true love. He would leave his job, patents, and assets to the three sons he had with her.
Then he looked down at me and said that if I hadn't been able to help him return to the city back then, and loved him so desperately, he never would have compromised by marrying me.
Watching their happy family of five beneath the spotlights, I, who had chosen not to have children, died of rage in a dark corner.
When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the year the educated youths were allowed to move back to the city.
Since the source of my past life's ill-fated relationship was the chance to return to the city, this time I would give up my eligibility.
Since they accused me in my past life of taking someone else's place, this time I would let them have each other and wish them a lifetime together.
