CHAPTER 1: CHAPTER 1: THAT GIRL

On the streets of City A, the traffic flowed endlessly.

I’ve been sitting in a café named "Serendipity" for two hours now, in the corner by the wall, facing the direction of the counter where a young girl in a sky-blue apron is busily brewing various drinks.

She’s about 1.6 meters tall, weighs probably no more than 90 pounds, white and slender, and loves to smile. Her thick, black hair is tied in a high ponytail, and her crescent-moon eyes are contagiously joyful when she smiles.

"Ma’am, would you like a refill?" she came over and asked me with a dazzling smile.

I was quite embarrassed, having just been captivated by the young girl. Fortunately, I am a woman myself, or else I might have been mistaken for a pervert or creep.

"Sure, another black coffee," I replied with a polite smile, my voice calm.

Soon, the girl brought me another cup of bitter black coffee. She didn’t leave right away but hesitated for a moment before meddling, "Ma’am, you’ve already had two cups of black coffee. Although it’s invigorating, too much is harmful. Maybe... save some for next time?"

She was kind and very outgoing, her voice crisp like wind chimes, pleasant with a tinkling sound.

I glanced at the black coffee on the table, picked up my bag, and stood up, "Alright, let’s settle the bill."

The girl was happy that I took her advice. She quickly ran to settle the bill and finally told me, "Ma’am, your total comes to 87 yuan today. Will that be cash or mobile payment?"

After silently settling the bill, I left the café in quick strides.

"Madam," Lane greeted me respectfully as I emerged, nodding while holding the car door open for me.

"Let’s go home," I instructed him with a gentle smile.

The car started smoothly, and I closed my eyes to rest in the back seat, my mind continually revisiting the young girl from the café, the face so radiantly youthful.

Was it her? The girl for whom Henry Preston a year later would not hesitate to break away from the family, paying a huge price to divorce me.

I didn’t expect that the first thing after being reborn would be to find her current workplace, observing her like a voyeur.

I was too curious—what kind of girl had taken away the man I had loved for ten years?

In the previous life, I never even met her, only discovering a name and a few photos. Henry protected her like she was a rare treasure. I was utterly defeated, yet my opponent never once showed her face.

Young, beautiful, pure, kind, cheerful... all these wonderful descriptors suited that girl perfectly.

Her only disadvantage was having no family background, creating a vast difference from Henry’s status.

Lane suddenly spoke up, "Madam, today is your wedding anniversary with Mr. Preston."

I opened my eyes slowly, momentarily disoriented.

Counting it up, it’s been five years since I married Henry. Every wedding anniversary, I spend the entire day preparing a candlelight dinner and gifts.

This year, I’m 27, and he’s 29.

"I know." I rubbed my slightly aching temples, "No need to remind me."

Perhaps Lane noticed that I’m different from previous years, so he reminded me.

But why was it always me making the effort? Why did I have to love that man? In my previous life’s final moments, I pondered this question. For Henry, I ended up with a ruined family and a tragic ending.

Lost in thought, the car stopped at the entrance of the home I shared with Henry, a wedding gift from both our parents, a luxury villa spanning over a thousand square meters.

To my surprise, Henry’s car was also parked at the entrance; he was home.

My emotions were complex. Having died once, upon rebirth, what expression is appropriate to show when meeting the culprit again?

I thought I would hate Henry, who for another woman, pushed his wife of five years to a dead end, also striking hard against my parents who treated him so well. My family suffered a complete defeat under his hands.

But upon truly seeing him again, I found that my hatred wasn’t as intense; there was more of a sense of release.

In the previous life, Henry gave me a chance, proposing a peaceful divorce, offering a portion of The Preston Group shares as compensation, enough for me to squander for a lifetime, but I was unwilling. I couldn’t gain any love from him in ten years, while another woman enthralled him within just a year, turning him against the world.

So I tried every possible method to win him back, gradually moving towards a complete break, a face-off, a fight to the death.

Now, since none of this has happened yet, instead of hatred, I wish to change that self-destructive outcome.

"What are you standing there for?" Henry was sitting in the living room, casually crossed his long legs, the cigarette in his fingers already burnt out. He skillfully extinguished it in the ashtray, then glanced at me with the same indifferent look.

On our wedding day, Henry openly stated that we were merely in a cooperative relationship, long-term roommates, and he had no feelings for me.

"Nothing, just didn’t expect you to be home." I bent down to change into slippers, a pair in Hermes’ elephant gray, with a simple design and steady color; apart from comfort, there seemed little else to admire.

I recalled the blue-aproned girl in the café, a red flower smiley pinned on her apron, which no one else had.

In contrast, all my clothes were expensive and monotonous, unchanging simplicity, unchanging dullness.

I suddenly disliked these slippers, tossed them aside, and walked barefoot into the living room.

Henry noticed my bare feet approaching, slightly frowning with a hint of surprise in his eyes, "Not wearing shoes?"

"Yeah, if I don’t feel like it, I won’t wear them." I sat down opposite him, responding plainly.

"Quite a surprise, what’s got you stirred up?" Henry surprisingly laughed, lightly asking me in a rarely cheerful tone.

A reaction to your future true love, I thought.

I looked down at my own pale feet; too thin, they looked somewhat gaunt.

Azure was different. Though she was slim, her skin was tight and elastic, unlike my purely skin-and-bone appearance.

Five years of a lonely marriage left my body with many problems, having no interest in eating, thus growing thinner until resembling the White Witch.

"Henry."

"Hmm?" Henry was looking at his phone, not even raising his head.

He wore a black shirt and trousers, of superb texture, his long figure and perfect head-to-body ratio lending him a striking handsomeness, combined with a smooth face shape and delicate, deep-set features, making him the dream of millions of girls.

I withdrew my gaze from my feet, fixating on the man across, my voice a bit hoarse, "Let’s get a divorce."

As soon as I finished speaking, I heard Henry’s sneer.

He casually tossed his phone onto the sofa, looking at me with a familiar, cold gaze, asking, "Zoe Hathaway, what trick are you playing again?"