How Does 'My Year Of Rest And Relaxation' End?

Natalie Hale spent five years loving a man who never learned to look at her. When Ethan Cole's first love returns and he asks for a divorce, Natalie doesn't beg. She doesn't break. She asks for one month, thirty days for him to fulfill every promise he made and never kept. A candlelit dinner, a drive-in movie, an amusement park in autumn, Small things. The things that were supposed to mean us. He agrees, then he cancels and then he lies. Then she waits alone, again and again, learning in real time what she already knew in her bones, she was never his priority. But something shifts during that month. He begins to see her: her beauty, her grace, the way a room moves when she enters it. Too late, too slow, and far too little. On the thirtieth day, Natalie signs the papers, leaves a cup of coffee on the counter made exactly to his taste, and walks out the door. Three years later, she walks back in not to him, but into the same room. Radiant, accomplished and accompanied by a man who has never once made her wait. And Ethan Cole finally understands the difference between losing someone and letting them go. He let her go. She lost nothing.

During the long National Day holidays, I planned a Golden Highlands trip for the whole family. I even booked tickets for a luxurious train ride so we could enjoy the scenery. But on departure day, my husband and son vanished. I called my husband. I could hear an airport boarding announcement in the background. My voice trembled. "Where are you?" He panicked and mumbled that the company had an emergency before hanging up. I tried calling again, but the line was busy. The next day, he posted an update on his social media. In the photo, he stood beneath the snowy peaks of Wintercrown with one arm around his old love while the other held our son. The caption read: [If we had been a little braver back then...] A friend commented: [Where is your wife?] I stared at his reply: [She's sick and resting at home.] Three expired train tickets sat on the table as my eyes welled up with tears. A decade of marriage. A pack of lies. It was time to bring it all to a close.

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

The third year after I got diagnosed with intermittent amnesia, I happened to overhear my husband, Lucien Rook, chatting with his friends. “Lucien, Anneliese loses her memories every couple of months, and you keep making us impersonate you to live with her. Aren’t you afraid that one of us might take it all the way one day?” “What’s there to be afraid of?” Lucien laughed uninhibitedly, swishing the alcohol in his glass. “Annie is cold and distant. As long as you guys don’t tempt her, she won’t have any such desires. “But I’m warning you now. You can act all you want, but you can’t ever sleep with her. Once I’ve had my fun, I will be going home to her.” For three years, every time I lost my memories, Lucien was not the one who would hold my hand and embrace me, or even sleep with me in the same bed. In three years, I had lost my memories nine times, and nine men had pretended to be my husband. What they did not know was that my amnesia had been cured two years ago.

After five years in a marriage without intimacy, I finally called my wife, Suzanna Jones, the youngest commander in the military, and asked her to spend the night with me. Five hundred and twenty times. That was how many times we had been interrupted over the years. Every time we came close to being together, an urgent call from her widowed brother‑in‑law, Eric Gibson, pulled her away before anything could happen. Then, on our wedding anniversary, Suzanna promised she would finally give me the perfect wedding night we never had. I held her by the waist and was about to cross the final line between us when Eric’s ringtone shattered the moment. “Suzanna… I was injured in an explosion down there. What if I am crippled for life…?” Panic filled her face. She pushed me aside and rushed for the door. I grabbed her wrist and tried to stop her. “Send him to the military hospital first.” She turned on me with anger and slapped me across the face. “Shane! Eric is seriously hurt! How can you be this heartless?” She pulled on her dress and ran out. When I caught up with her, the sight in front of me stopped me cold. The woman who once promised to give me her first night was wrapped around Eric in a position far more intimate than anything she had ever shared with me. When I asked for an explanation, she looked calm and unbothered. “Eric is in critical condition. Was I supposed to stand there and do nothing? It is not that important. If it bothers you that much, I can fix it later.” Something inside me went numb. For five years, I had been the only one trying to hold our marriage together. At that moment, I realized I was exhausted from fighting for something that had ended long ago.

When I found out my wife was pregnant with her lover’s baby, I thought I’d lose my mind just like the first time I caught her cheating, smashing up the whole house like a lunatic. Instead, I looked at our antique vase and realized it was far too expensive to break over them. It just wasn't worth it. Later, walking past a bakery, I thought seeing her buying baby supplies with Joseph would ruin my appetite. Yet, to my surprise, the cake I bought tasted better than usual. Before going to bed, that familiar dark urge to swallow a handful of sleeping pills crept up on me again. I thought I was about to lose my mind and take the most drastic measures to get back at that despicable couple when my therapist sent a message, reminding me once more to go outside and get some fresh air. So, I headed south to soak in the sun and feel the ocean breeze. For twenty-seven whole days, I didn’t think about them once. That was until my wife, Sarah, called. “There are three days left in our divorce waiting period. Don’t forget to come back so we can finalize the paperwork. “Don’t worry, Daniel. This is just temporary. After I have the baby, we’ll remarry. You know you’re the only one I love.” Only after her reminder did I remember the divorce was even a thing. This time, though, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to play their games anymore. So, with the ocean breeze on my face, I said almost without thinking, “How about this time, we end it for good?”