Rewriting My Third Life Novels & Stories

I live in the worlds that I create. I live for my characters. I live for writing. For the past three years, writing has been the only thing that worked for me. A failed marriage, a failed career, almost dying from cancer and somehow making it. Yeah, I have lived it all and writing was the only thing that got me going after my life practically ended. I shook the sad thoughts off and got off the chair that I had been seated in. It was clear that being around people wasn’t going to help me so I may as well just go back home and try to reconnect with my characters again.

I never imagined we would end up here. We stood facing each other, like bitter enemies. He impatiently handed me a card. "There's three million dollars on this card, a compensation for the child I lost. You've made your scene, and I've paid the price. Isn't that enough?" He actually thought three million dollars could replace a child. I mocked him in return. "In your eyes, is a child just a price tag? What about Vanessa's child? How much does that one cost?" His face darkened. "Are you threatening me? If you dare to touch Nessa, don't blame me for being ruthless."

"Who in the world are you, and what is this car accident about?" I asked, pulling on the handbrake with all my might. Still shaken, I stared at the crash site not far away, my back drenched in cold sweat. Someone with a voice identical to mine spoke through the phone. "Do not doubt me. I am you from three years in the future. That's why I know about all these." However, this felt absurd to me. I was convinced it was a tech-savvy voice-phishing scammer who was manipulating my voice.

"What did you do? Why haven't I gotten mine?" I smiled. "Why are you asking me about your score?" One of his followers quickly jumped in. "It has to be in the top 50 in the state. They always delay those." I almost laughed. In my last life, my score really had been in the top 50. But this time, I had written everything in red ink. There was no way that was happening. Still, everyone bought it instantly and started congratulating Tyson in advance. He hesitated for a moment, then firecrackers went off outside.

Her voice was so small. Like it came from somewhere very, very deep. I held her hand. "I will." Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on the floor in a patch of gold. Just like that morning so many years ago. Back then, I thought I would never be okay again. But here I am. Treating others the way I once so desperately wanted to be treated. A soft voice cut through my thoughts. "Can you tell me what I should do next?"

On our wedding night, my wife, who almost never drank, got wasted because she was supposedly too happy. Just when I didn't know what to do, my best friend sent me a long message explaining how to take care of her. I blushed, but I still followed his instructions and soothed her the way he described. Natalie, who had been making a scene, miraculously quieted down. But just as I was about to call my friend and thank him, Natalie suddenly hugged me from behind. Heartbroken, she whispered, "Ashton Hawke, you're the one I wanted to marry." As she said it, the tattoo near her heart slipped into view: a hawk with its wings spread wide. My mind went blank. Ashton Hawke was my best friend of

And as I turn walking away from the fire, I know one thing. This isn’t over. Not even close. Because people like Lira? They don’t just exist. They change the game. And I don’t lose games. I rewrite them. Even if it means walking through fire to do it. Let the games begin.

I slowly cut into the steak on my plate as I said calmly, “No thanks. I don’t want trash. “And I certainly don’t take other people’s trash.” ... I then heard wailing and the sound of objects being violently thrown on the other end of the line. I hung up the phone and promptly blocked that number as well. “What’s wrong?” Silas asked with concern. “Nothing.” I raised my cup. “To a new beginning.” I had lived this life three times. It took three tries, but I was finally free to live a new life. Three months later, I was in the VIP consultation room of a private hospital. I stared blankly at the test results in my hand.

I move before I can change my mind—out the front door, past the heavy iron gates, without looking back. I’m not a teenager in a bad romance movie. I have money. I have options. I have a life outside of this… whatever this is. I’ll start over. I’ll start somewhere new. I want to outrun the death that’s been breathing down my neck ever since I woke up at that altar. I want to escape the poison Barbara fed me, and the cold, grey eyes of the man I’m accidentally starting to think too much of.

On the left side, under the past life, I began to write down what happened during the third year of my marriage. > Year 3 (Past Life): I was entirely weak. My mother was giving me the headache pills every single week, and my brain was always foggy. Elias ignored me completely. He stayed at his office until midnight every day. Maya started taking over my position in high society, telling everyone that I was losing my mind. I spent my days crying in this exact room, wishing someone would save me. I looked at the right side of the paper and wrote down what was happening right now.