Chapter 2

"Done looking?"

Lucifer muttered from his spot on the bench, giving me another sidelong glance.

"That woman practically sold you out. Still going to pick her?"

"I want to see the second one," I said hoarsely, not answering Lucifer's question.

I took a deep breath, forcing Rosie's timeline down into the back of my mind.

Lucifer flipped a page in the Book of Life. A flash of white light later, and I found myself standing inside Mandy Holland's home office.

The second flashback had begun. This time, it was about my life with Mandy.

My objective this time was crystal clear. Had Mandy's suffocating desire for control been there from the very beginning, or had something specific triggered it?

…

Day 1 of our marriage.

Mandy sat at her desk wearing wire-rimmed glasses as she quietly graded papers.

As my past self walked past, she looked up and offered a soft, pleasant smile. "What do you want for dinner tonight? I'll make it."

Her honey-glazed barbecue pork ribs were genuinely incredible. Her knife skills were so precise that every single portion of meat was cut to the exact size. Even the plating looked like it had been lifted straight out of a culinary textbook.

For the first two days, everything felt completely normal.

She cooked, washed the dishes, and even squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush every morning. Her thoughtfulness was flawless, almost to a fault.

…

Day 3 of our marriage.

Mandy sat in the living room reading a book while my past self was changing clothes in the bedroom.

"Babe, I'm heading out to grab dinner with my college buddies tonight. I won't be eating at home," I called out, adjusting my collar in front of the mirror.

"Which buddies? Where are you going?" Her voice was flat, like she was asking about the weather forecast.

"Just a couple of my old roommates and our class president. We're hitting up that popular gastropub downtown."

"Is the class president a guy or a girl?" she asked, her voice even softer this time, so quiet that my past self hadn't even registered it.

When I finally came back home later that night, Mandy was waiting at the door with a warm mug of milk.

"Did you have fun? What did you guys talk about?"

"Yeah, it was great. Everyone's pretty much the same."

"Your phone battery must be dead. Here, let me plug it in for you."

She asked with absolute sweetness, slipping my phone out of my hand.

In my past life, I had only seen it as a sign of care. But watching it now from the outside, I saw the exact moment her thumb swiped swiftly across my notification bar.

She was checking my messages.

…

Day 5 of our marriage.

I didn't leave the house.

Mandy was in an exceptionally good mood, cooking an entire spread and even popping open a bottle of red wine. Throughout dinner, she kept placing food on my plate with a tender smile.

"See how nice it is at home? The outside world is just too loud."

…

Day 6 of our marriage.

I mentioned that I wanted to head over to the shopping mall.

"I'll come with you," she said, instantly setting her book down.

"No need. I'm just going out with a couple of the guys."

Her smile dropped for half a second, and her eyes instantly turned ice-cold. "The mall gets way too crowded. I won't feel comfortable unless I go with you."

My past self had thought it was endearing. But this time around, I watched how she actually "accompanied" me.

Throughout the entire shopping trip, her eyes never once glanced at a single display shelf. Instead, she stared straight ahead at me and at every single person I looked at.

…

Day 12 of our marriage.

In my past life, I ran to the supermarket during the day to pick up some groceries.

While paying at the register, the young cashier accidentally gave me five dollars too much in change. My past self just smiled and handed it right back.

That night, Mandy holed up in her study for a full hour.

Curious, I peeked over her shoulder.

She was writing in her journal.

[He looked at the woman at the cash register today. I counted—he looked for three whole seconds.]

[He smiled at her.]

[He shouldn't be looking at anyone else.]

[He should only ever look at me.]

Every stroke was pressed so hard into the paper that the page was nearly punctured.

I gasped.

…

Day 18 of our marriage.

The first time she ever laid a hand on me.

It started because my phone received a mass-sent holiday greeting text from an old female classmate. Without saying a single word, she pinned my past self down onto the couch.

Her fists struck my back three times.

She didn't hit my face, and there was no visible swelling or lingering discoloration. Once my shirt was back on, absolutely nothing could be seen.

After she finished, she sat on the couch in silence for five full minutes. Then she pulled out her phone and transferred five thousand dollars straight to my account.

"Go buy that leather jacket you were looking at the other day," she said, her voice entirely gentle.

My past self had sat there crying, nursing his aching back, and ultimately chose to forgive her amidst her tearful apologies and sweet reassurances.

Watching from the outside perspective this time, I finally saw the expression on her face as she made that transfer.

It wasn't guilt, but calm, as if she had just finished executing a routine system program of punishment, compensation, reset.

From that day on, her reasons for striking me grew more absurd with every passing week. Yet every single time it ended, she would sit with her head in her hands for minutes on end, putting on a masterclass of heartbreak before coming back to me to apologize softly, over and over.

As time went on, the physical blows grew heavier, and her apologies grew more dramatic.

It went from gentle coaxing and sweet persuasion to weeping uncontrollably on the floor, begging me to forgive her.

The third time happened because I answered a phone call from a delivery driver.

The fifth time happened because I liked a female colleague's photo on social media.

The seventh time happened because I lingered two seconds too long while looking at the female lead on TV.

By the ninth time, I didn't even need to watch anymore.

The flashback abruptly cut off just twenty-four hours before my death.

When I snapped back to Hell, my mind was still frozen in the terrifying grip of Mandy's extreme obsession, my entire body shivering.

"Do you know why she didn't say anything right after beating you?" Lucifer suddenly broke the silence.

I stared blankly at him.

"She was making sure you were still hers," Lucifer said slowly.