Where Can I Listen To 'Now That The Love Is Gone'?

Three years after my parents got divorced, I ran into my mom at a restaurant. She was having dinner with her daughter. When she saw me, her expression looked a little uncomfortable. Right before she left, she pulled up her phone and opened Venmo. "Here, let me send you some money. You and your dad can get yourselves something nice to eat." I pushed her phone back. "No thanks, Sarah. It's not like you ever cared much about me or Dad before." Her face tightened, and she frowned hard. "Why do you have to be as stubborn as your father? If you had stayed with me, you wouldn't be working as a server right now. Tell your dad this—if he admits he was wrong, I'll take you back and give you a good life." I just stared at her coldly and said nothing. Did she not know? My dad had already been dead for three years.

During a company retreat to Colmar, I found out my boyfriend was going to propose at sunset, surrounded by colleagues. Instead, in the golden light, he dropped to one knee with a ring in hand in front of someone else. “Lana, I’m ready to be the father of your child. Will you marry me?” Lana, the woman Mark had loved for ten years, his unforgettable first love. I stared at the two, watching them embrace. Then I quietly turned away, booked myself a trip three days out, and went home for an arranged date. A year later, I ran into him again when I returned to the country. Mark’s eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my wrist. “Rosie, you’re finally back. Don’t leave me again…”

On my fiftieth birthday, my grandson pouted when he saw the present I had given him and complained, “Grandma Cecil at the Emerald Manor has a cooler present for me. It was a Transformer toy that flies.” I was confused by this remark. Emerald Manor was one of the wedding gifts offered when I got married. My husband was not fond of this place because it was too far away from the city, so I have rarely been here as well, and it has been vacant ever since. As we stood outside the manor, I could hear the cheery voices coming from inside the house. My husband and my adopted son were inside celebrating the birthday of the owner of the manor. The Grandma Cecil my grandson referred to was the childhood sweetheart of my husband, Cecil Houston, who was married off far away a long time ago. She remained as beautiful as she once was and was snuggled in my husband’s arms, surrounded by my children. I have dedicated myself to the Blightwells for two decades. This entire time, Cade has taken my commitment as nothing but a joke. When I was reincarnated, I found myself on the wedding day. I listened to the clamoring noises and lifted the veil to see the commotion. It was time to start over.

On the day of our ninth wedding anniversary, I sat in the empty living room and summoned the system I had not contacted in ages. "System, help me submit an application. I've decided to leave this world." The cold, mechanical voice came through, and somehow it sounded comforting. "Understood, Harry. Your departure application has been received. The space-time corridor is being constructed. I will come to retrieve you in one week." I hummed quietly and stared at my phone screen. A family photo of three stared back. In the photo, I stood in the center holding an adorable little girl. A beautiful woman stood beside me, kissing my cheek.

"Dad, Mom, I've decided—I'll go through with the marriage arrangement with the Kingston family. I'll be back by the end of the month." Daphne Wharton made the decision in the middle of a camping trip with Luke Hardy. She curled into herself, pulling her scarf higher against the chill. For a moment, there was only silence on the other end of the line. Then, her mother's voice came through, thick with tears. "Daphne, we know this isn't fair to you. Our company is struggling, and the Kingston family is willing to help—but only if you marry their son. We've failed you as parents…" Her father let out a heavy sigh beside her mother. Daphne listened, her gaze unfocused. A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "It's okay, Mom, Dad. This is what I should do. I'll be back in fifteen days—when their son returns to the country."

Imagine my shock when I found out that my husband, a professor who had proudly embraced a childless life for half of his years, had an affair with one of his own students. She even had his six-year-old son. The day I planned to report him to the university, Zia Thompson came to my door with the child and knelt in front of me. "Maybe you and Zeke were in love once," she said. "But he's over forty now. Who doesn't want to have a child? A legacy?" "I don't need a title," she went on. "I can give up the child too. I just beg you, don't tear our family apart." I looked at my husband, who stood protectively in front of them. I felt terrifyingly calm. "Cut ties with them," I said, my voice flat, "or prepare to be reported to the university. You choose." Without a moment's hesitation, he tore the report letter into shreds. I thought that was his answer. But on the fifty-second night of a bed grown cold and a home echoing with silence, he still hadn't returned. Instead, I received news that Zia was pregnant again. She had graduated by then. The report I never sent no longer posed any threat to them. Zeke didn't bother to hide his fatigue and irritation anymore. "Treat Zia and the kids well," he said, "or keep living alone in that empty house. It's your choice." My heart was already a wasteland. "I have one more option," I said. "I choose divorce."