My Ex Begged Me for a Second Chance

The rain came down in sheets that day, as if the sky itself was mourning something it couldn't name.

Seraphina Harrison was trapped in the wreckage of her car on the side of an overpass, the windshield shattered around her like jagged crystal. She clawed for her phone, glass slicing deep into her palm—warm blood mixing with the cold, punishing rain.

Through the pain, she dialed Ramon Chavez.

First call? He hung up.

Second call? Same.

The third time, he finally picked up.

By then, the ache in her body had tightened into something unbearable. Every breath was torture, her throat raw and thick with the taste of blood.

"Ramon... the brakes... someone tampered with them... I've had an accident..."

A pause. A heavy silence.

Then Brinley Austin's voice cut through, trembling and tearful.

"Ramon, my wound hurts so much. Can you take me to the hospital first?"

Ramon's tone went cold, detached.

"I'll call a doctor right away."

Seraphina pressed the phone harder to her ear, summoning every last shred of strength she had just to be heard.

"Ramon, I didn't touch her—please, just trust me this once."

His voice came back laced with frustration.

"Seraphina, when will you stop with this act? Brinley's wrist is bleeding because of you, and now you're claiming to be in a car accident? Do you need everyone's attention that badly?"

Through the rain-streaked window, Seraphina watched her life spilling out of her. The mangled guardrail was the only witness to her slow, lonely death.

Rain and blood blurred together in her eyes, but she had no tears left to cry.

"Ramon, I'm really dying here."

He scoffed. "Then go die somewhere far away."

The copper mirror's vision stopped there.

Ramon stood frozen before it, while Brinley's face drained of color, her voice scrambling for purchase.

"Ramon, I swear I really did slit my wrist back then. I was scared. I never meant for you to ignore her calls."

Ramon said nothing.

He stared at Seraphina's blood-soaked reflection, his voice cracking. "What happened next?"

"Your fortune doesn't allow you to see more," the keeper stated.

Ramon spun around. "I want to see what led up to the crash."

"That can be arranged."

The keeper flipped open the Book of Destiny. "But to see a memory, you must trade a memory. Perhaps something precious between you and this lady."

Brinley stiffened on the spot.

She lifted her eyes toward Ramon, tears pooling instantly.

"Ramon, don't. Please, you can't."

She had always been this way.

All it ever took was tears, and Ramon would shield her every single time.

When she shattered the porcelain vase Seraphina's mother left behind, he called it an accident. When she leaked the doctored recordings to the entire company, nearly destroying Seraphina's career, he said she was just insecure. And when she cried on the hospital rooftop, sobbing that Seraphina drove her to suicide, Ramon acted without a second thought—locking Seraphina in the house under guard, no explanation, no chance to defend herself.

Three days in that basement. No food. No water. Seraphina blacked out more than once. Ramon never once showed his face.

Later, pneumonia set in. Her body burned with fever, and the doctor warned that any delay could kill her.

That day, she asked him—"Ramon, if I die today, will you regret it?"

His answer: "Creatures like you don't die young, Seraphina. You'll outlive the devil himself."

And now, he was willing to offer up memories of Brinley for a truth about her. The irony cut deep.

Brinley sobbed, "Those are our memories. You promised to cherish them forever."

Ramon's voice came out gentle, almost pleading. "Brinley, I just need to know the truth. If I don't, I won't be able to move on peacefully in the next life. Help me this once."

Brinley clung to his wrist, nearly dragging him away with her desperation. But Ramon stood like stone.

Her hand slipped away. She finally broke down, her sobs ragged.

"Is the truth worth more than me? Can a dead woman mean more than the decade we spent together? She's been gone ten years, Ramon—I'm the one who's been by your side all this time. You should be clinging to our love and memories—not hers."

As her words faded, a flicker of doubt crossed Ramon's eyes.

Once, Seraphina had asked him the very same kind of question.

She had said, "Ramon, is it really so hard to trust me just once?"

His response had been to side with Brinley, to tell her, "She's kind-hearted. She's nothing like you."

"The soul of one who met a tragic end is nothing but a broken fragment—hardly worth your tears. Please, leave now."

Ramon lifted his gaze to the keeper. "Deal."

Brinley went paper-white.

"No. Ramon, no!"

But as she scrambled to stop him, the Book of Destiny reached out and claimed the memory.

Brinley latched onto Ramon's hand, her voice quivering. "Do you remember? At my sister's funeral, you held me and promised to take care of me forever."

For a heartbeat, his eyes went blank.

A line of vermilion script scrolled across the pages:

"The most treasured memory between Ramon Chavez and Brinley Austin has been claimed."

The keeper stared at those words, struck by the absurdity of it all.

So that was it. The most precious memory between them wasn't love or passion.

It was a promise born of grief.

All those years Brinley claimed to have loved him—it had never been love at all.

The copper mirror flickered to life once more.

This time, the scene returned to the Chavez family mansion.

Seraphina stood at the study door, a report in hand—proof that Brinley had forged documents to fake depression.

Just as she was about to speak, Brinley came tumbling down from the third floor, grabbing Seraphina's hand and dragging them both down the stairs.

In the fall, Brinley clung stubbornly to her sleeve.

From Ramon's angle? It looked exactly like Seraphina had pushed her.

Inside the mirror, Ramon rushed forward, scooping Brinley into his arms, his eyes narrowing at Seraphina with pure venom.

The disgust in them was almost a physical presence.

"I didn't push her—she did this to herself!" Seraphina's protest came out desperate, raw.

Brinley trembled in Ramon's embrace, crying pitiful. "Ramon, don't blame Seraphina. She was just too angry. I shouldn't have fallen—I shouldn't have gotten her involved."

Icy dread flooded Seraphina's veins, but she forced herself to sit up despite the pain. "Brinley, tell the truth—who pushed whom?"

Ramon gave her no chance.

He carried Brinley past her, brushing by like she was nothing.

As he passed, his words landed like a knife. "Seraphina, you disgust me."

Outside the mirror, blood tears slipped down Ramon's face.

Brinley lunged wildly, trying to smash the mirror—but her hands met only empty air, sending her crashing to the floor.

This time, Ramon didn't catch her.

"That's not what happened! That mirror is lying, Ramon—don't believe it! That woman is behind all this!"

"Miss Austin, the Ninth Abyss Pawnshop never lies."

The keeper stepped forward, holding out the scales of fate. "If you believe the mirror is wrong, you may prove your innocence on the scales."

Brinley stumbled back.

Ramon turned to look at her. "Why, Brinley?"

She shook her head, tears falling heavy like crystal. "I was scared. I've been through so much, Ramon. Coming here, seeing all of this—it's terrifying. Why are you pushing me even further?"

Ramon's expression eased.

The keeper could already see it.

He was about to give in again.

And sure enough, the next moment, Ramon positioned himself between Brinley and the truth, meeting the keeper's gaze.

"She's unwell. Don't push her. Let it go—it's all in the past."

A decade gone. A journey through life and death. And Ramon was still the same man.

The first tear Brinley shed, and the truth he'd just witnessed evaporated like smoke.

"Does the guest still wish to continue viewing?" the keeper asked.

Ramon's jaw tightened. "Yes."

Brinley grabbed at him, desperate. "Ramon!"

He didn't turn. "This time, I have to see it through."

The keeper nodded. "The third memory comes at a much higher price."

"Name it."

The keeper held his gaze, delivering the blow without flinching. "Your bond with Brinley Austin."

"The Ninth Abyss Pawnshop only accepts what truly holds value. Aside from your feelings for this lady, there is little left worth taking."

Ramon swallowed hard. "If I give it up—what happens?"

"You will have no bond. After this life, you will never cross paths again—not in ten thousand lifetimes."

Brinley dragged herself upright, clutching at him, disheveled, sobbing.

"Ramon, don't do this. We swore ourselves to eternity—we promised we would find each other across every lifetime! Don't be selfish—don't throw that away for a dead woman, for a nobody!"

Ramon stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the mirror.

In the reflection, Seraphina lay sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath her like some grotesque, blooming flower.

"She was always afraid of pain. Even a papercut would have her crying for hours." His voice faltered. "How much must she have suffered back then?"

"Can I see her? Just once?"

The keeper closed the Book of Destiny. "That price, guest... you cannot afford."