She Named My First
In my previous life, during my birthday party, my wife Ruby’s so‑called best friend, Hayden, walked up to me with a glass of wine and a smirk.
“Ruby had a little too much to drink last night,” he said. “I helped her shower. Hope you do not mind.”
I lost my temper on the spot, and I demanded a divorce.
I left with nothing because I wanted to get away from the two of them as quickly as possible.
In the end, I died alone in a rented apartment. No one came to see me, not even once.
After my death, Ruby’s company went public without any trouble. Her wedding with Hayden became the talk of the city.
Everyone called them a perfect match. When they mentioned me, there was only ever one line: "
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