Why Mourn What You Killed?

When Alexander Smith stands in front of me and says he's going to marry someone else, that's when I realize he's been reborn too.

I remember our 20 years of love in our past life. A plane crash. And then, rebirth.

"This is to save Sophia," he says. "In our past life, she was sold to a Vostmark oligarch after her father's political scandal. Not long after, she took her own life due to abuse. I can't let that tragedy happen again, so I need to get engaged to her."

As he speaks, he hands me an orange prescription bottle.

"If you take this, you'll forget me for a little while. You won't feel the pain. It's just seven days. Once her father's scandal blows over, you'll stop the medication and your memory will return. Then I'll end the engagement and officially propose to you."

I stare at the bottle, knowing it's a lie.

Not the part about Sophia's suicide. The lie is about the drug.

He thinks it only causes temporary memory loss. But I know better.

The suppressant causes permanent damage to emotional memory.

The seven-day countdown isn't the time it takes for my memories to return.

It's the time it takes for my love for him to die.

He asked me to take a memory suppressant—to erase 20 years of love—just so he could become another woman's hero. And even knowing it would sever my ability to love him forever, I still played along and saw the performance through to the end.

Alexander Smith set the bottle on the marble countertop, his fingers drumming nervously.

"I know you don't like Sophia, and I understand you feel angry over my engagement to her. But try to understand.

"You're the heir to the McKenzie family, the youngest investment director at Dominion Exchange. No one could ever force you into a political marriage. Sophia's different. Her father's a power-hungry senator. If I don't protect her, she'll be used as a political pawn.

"I can't bear to watch another tragedy unfold. You understand that, don't you?"

I stared at him, my gray-blue eyes devoid of emotion.

I couldn't pinpoint when the man who once promised to love me for eternity began feeling sympathy for Sophia Watson.

He was fully aware of how she'd ripped through everything that was mine.

That she shorted my portfolio—a financial loss of 20 million dollars—during her tenure at my company.

That she clawed away every opportunity of mine since business school.

Internships she'd snatched, client leads rerouted, and even him—my fiance.

And still, he chose to protect her.

When I stayed silent, Alexander raked his fingers through his golden-brown hair in frustration. "The drug is gentle—no side effects. Seven days will go by quickly. Once Sophia's safe, we can start over.

"Emma, trust me—just like you always have."

However, this drug didn't erase my memory instantly. Instead, it gradually severed emotional connections until the neural pathways were irrevocably damaged. And stopping the medication wouldn't fix it—the damaged receptors wouldn't regenerate, even if I stopped taking it.

I took the pill with a sip from the glass of water on the table.

"If you've already bought the engagement ring from Seraphine, there's no need to keep talking. I just hope you're ready for the consequences."

My calm seemed to put him at ease. A flicker of relief passed through his brown eyes.

"Of course. I never act without confidence. Emma, once this is over, I'll give you the wedding we never had in our last life."

But his words dissolved beneath the tidal wave of pain that hit me. I gripped the table, vision swirling in black.

Alexander rushed to steady me, his handsome face immediately losing all color. "Damn it! Is this a reaction to the drug? The label stated that there would be no serious side effects. I'll call an ambulance. You're going to the hospital."

Pushing him away, I took a deep breath and steadied myself. For a moment, my mind went blank.

"Who are you? And why are you in my home?"

Alexander froze for a few seconds before a look of joy flashed in his face. He stepped back, putting space between us.

"Ms. McKenzie, I'm here to see Ms. Watson. Apologies if I've intruded. The engagement party is at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in seven days. As her business associate, we'd be honored if you attended."

I blinked, trying to recall what had just happened. But the memory felt scrubbed away, like erased chalk on a blackboard.

Seeing the ease on his face and the weight lifting from his shoulders, my chest tightened as though an invisible hand had gripped my heart. Still, I managed a professional smile.

"Congratulations, Mr. Smith. Sophia is a very lucky woman."

Right on cue, Sophia arrived, arms wrapped around him like a carefully rehearsed act. Her Sylvette heels clicked sharply across my floor, and she wore a suit identical to my custom Chantelais order—just in a different color.

"Emma, what a coincidence." She stepped between us, her emerald eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I was just about to share the good news. Alexander proposed to me on the rooftop of Imperium One. Super romantic, right?

"I know you two were Richton classmates, but he chose me. I hope you'll give us your blessing."

Alexander frowned. "Sophia, don't say it like that."

Tears filled her eyes as her voice quivered. "I'm just so happy. Emma has always been perfect. I've never felt like I was good enough for you. But you said you love me. Didn't you?"

His expression softened. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek. "Of course. Don't overthink it. Let's go. Didn't you have a gown fitting at Maison Verelle?"

As I watched them, so intimate and at ease, the entire thing abruptly seemed preposterous.

Perhaps Alexander didn't want me to recover my memory. It dawned on me that in his past life, his love for me might have always been tainted by guilt toward Sophia.

So the first thing he did upon being reborn was protect her. If he cared for her so deeply, why inflict this on me at all?

"I wish you both happiness," I said coolly. "Now please leave my apartment."

Alexander gave me a long, unreadable look before leading Sophia out. She clung tightly to his side.

Just before the elevator doors closed, she turned back and gave me a smug, triumphant smile.

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and watched as he opened the Maybach door for her downstairs, gently shielding her head with tender care as she got in.

In our past life, he had done the same for me.

Now, everything could be replicated.

"It's just a different way to live," I told my reflection in the window. "And I can make it shine on my own."