Divorce Day Reset: My Wife Back at Seventeen

Liliana continued, "Once I get him admitted to the hospital and settled in, I'll come straight back and explain everything. Please, just believe me this once."

I wanted to say no, but the 17-year-old Liliana was sobbing hard. She crouched, her shoulders trembling like an animal someone had abandoned. She looked helpless and pitiful as she mumbled over and over, "Si, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

What did she have to be sorry for?

At 17, Liliana had only ever had eyes for me. She had never betrayed what we had. At that age, she'd loved only me. But could I really say that the 17-year-old Liliana and the 27-year-old Liliana were not the same person?

I didn't know.

I lowered my gaze. Under the burning weight of 27-year-old Liliana's stare, I finally said, "Fine."

Joy flashed across her face, and she stepped forward to hug me. "Wait for me."

Then, she turned and helped Maurice up. The two of them disappeared from my sight.

…

Even by dawn, Liliana had yet to return. She'd begged me to trust her just this once, and she'd blown me off once again.

I silently finished the discharge paperwork. After that, I took a cab to the place from ten years ago, where 17-year-old Liliana and I had buried our time capsule.

It was beneath a plane tree. Ten years ago, it had only been a sapling. Now, a decade later, its canopy had spread wide and full.

I picked up the small shovel I'd brought and began to dig, slowly and steadily, until I finally unearthed the time capsule we'd buried.

I opened the letter 17-year-old Liliana had written. "To the 27-year-old me: Hi, it's me, 17-year-old Liliana. By now, you and Si must be living a really happy life, right? I keep wondering what kind of life I want to give him. Should it be rich and carefree, or ordinary but steady and safe?

"But no matter how I think about it, the most important thing is that he's happy. To the 27-year-old me, I hope you don't ever make Si sad. Don't ever break his heart. Don't let him down and don't lie to him…"

By the time I finished reading, the 17-year-old Liliana beside me was already sobbing so hard that she could barely speak. With tears streaming down her face, she said to me, "Si, don't be sad. Don't be upset. Leave me and never look back."

By this point, we both knew the truth. The three chances the 17-year-old Liliana had begged for had all been used up.

I reached up to wipe the tears from her face. To my surprise, I managed to touch her. It felt like reaching across a river of time and laying my hand on our decade together.

"Don't cry," I said softly.

Then, I slipped the sapphire ring off my ring finger. It matched the one I'd given Liliana when I proposed to her. Back then, she told me that sapphires stood for eternal promises and unwavering love. She also said that in this lifetime, I, Simon Rivero, was the only man she would ever love.

I placed the ring, the letter, and the divorce papers I'd already prepared into the time capsule. Then, I looked at the 17-year-old Liliana under the plane tree. Her figure was growing hazier and harder to make out.

She was crying, but she still forced a smile at me. She said, "Si, don't forgive her."

As her figure slowly faded away, the memories of the past ten years seemed to dissolve right along with her. They dissipated like mist fading as the sun climbed higher in the sky and were gone in an instant.

I took out my phone and sent a message to Liliana. "Liliana Coolidge, we're done."

The next second, the phone which had been silent all night suddenly lit up and started ringing, shrill and urgent.