The Wife Who's Life Like a Superstar

“Help me,” she pleaded.

Her face was a mess—streaked with tears, her nose red, and her eyes full of desperate sorrow, begging to be saved from something I couldn’t yet understand. But what puzzled me most was my own reaction: why couldn’t I look away from her? What was it about this girl that unsettled me so deeply?

“Please,” she whispered again, reaching out to clasp my hand.

Strangely, I didn’t push her away. I couldn’t. She didn’t hesitate to drop to her knees before me, her emerald-green eyes shimmering with tears that refused to stop falling.

“My brother…” she said, wiping her eyes, “Please protect him. Keep him safe.”

What does any of this have to do with me? I didn’t understand. I wanted to comfort her, but there was something in the air—an invisible clock ticking down. This encounter... it felt fleeting, like we were meant to meet only once, and only now.

“You’re the only one who can help me, Mrs. Paula. Please. That’s all I ask.”

How does she know my name? My brow furrowed. “How do you know who I am?” I asked, motioning for her to stand. She resisted at first, but finally got to her feet. She kept wiping the corners of her eyes with one hand, while the other gripped mine tightly—so tightly it felt like I was the only anchor she had left in this world.

“What would you do if you were given a second chance—not just to live, but to seek revenge?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Who are you?” I demanded, trying once more to pull my hand away. But instead of letting go, her grip tightened.

“I don’t want to live anymore,” she confessed. “But your desire to leave this world... it isn’t as strong as mine, Mrs. Paula. You still have things left undone—unfinished pain, unresolved wounds, don’t you?”

Her words hit a nerve. They struck a memory that was still raw, still bleeding inside me. And just like that, the ache in my chest returned.

“I believe you won’t regret this decision, Mrs. Paula,” she said gently.

I said nothing. I just stared at her—this girl whose beauty could humble anyone who looked at her. If Aphrodite ever walked among us, surely she would look like this.

Then, once again, she broke into tears.

“Please,” she sobbed. “That’s all I ask. You can do that, can’t you?”

I let out a deep sigh. “Fine,” I relented. “Just protect and look after your sister, right?”

“Thank you!” she cried, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. “You’re kind and gentle, I can feel it. I hope this second chance brings you to something real—something true. I hope you find sincerity. And I hope you can release the hatred in my heart. Thank you… truly.”

The silver-haired girl pulled away from the hug, eyes full of bittersweet gratitude.

“Use me well. I know you’ll figure out what to do. But please… don’t break your promise.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Paula Whitney.”

She still hasn’t answered my question… How did she know me? Had we met before?

In all my 32 years, I couldn’t recall ever seeing her. And yet… her face did look somewhat familiar. Wait—wasn’t she the girl, Ruby, my niece, kept talking about? The rising singer with the stunning voice and even more stunning looks?

“Wait—” I called, trying to catch up as she turned to walk away. She had let go of me and was leaving without another word. “Hey! Wait a second!”

She turned back, flashing a radiant smile. There were no more tears on her beautiful face. Just peace. And then she waved, full of life and energy.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Paula.”

And then—everything went black.

When I opened my eyes again, pain exploded through my legs. My head throbbed so violently it felt like it might split in two. A loud crashing sound echoed in my memory—had I hit something? That must be why my head was spinning.

But what exactly had happened?

As my vision cleared, I realized someone was holding me tightly, sobbing uncontrollably, repeating a name I didn’t recognize. The smell of antiseptic filled my nose.

Hospital.

The last thing I remembered was… being in my car. Yes. I was in my car, and then—

I lost control.

“Vanesa... you’re awake? Vanesa, can you hear me?”

“Vanesa! You’re awake! Are you hurt? Do you feel dizzy? I’ll call the doctor right away—please, don’t leave me again!”

“Call the doctor! Hurry! She’s awake—Vanesa’s awake!”

Vanesa? Who’s Vanesa?

Why were they calling me that? And since when did I have a sister who cried for me like that?

Why was I lying in a hospital bed?

What in the world just happened to me?