The Menopause Reset

Zia wakes up in a tent on a beach in Hanalei, Hawaii, convinced she is eighteen years old and on a family vacation. However, the reality is a nightmare: she is actually twenty-five, her parents and brother have been dead for years, and the handsome "stranger" sleeping beside her is actually Clayton, her husband of three years. Zia suffers from a recurring neurological condition—triggered by a past trauma—that causes her memory to "reset" to her eighteen-year-old self.

On the day of my birthday banquet, Grandpa asks me which of the Sterling family's daughters I want to marry. I choose the Sterling family's fifth daughter without hesitation, which surprises my family elders. After all, everyone in our circle knows that I, the eldest son of the Hamiltons, am deeply in love with the eldest daughter of the Sterling family, Violet, spoiling and indulging her to an outrageous degree. In my previous life, I did marry Violet. But after only three months, I discovered that Violet was having secret meetings with my illegitimate half-brother, Sebastian Hamilton. At the time, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at me pitifully. "Please, I'm begging you. This really was just an accident." My heart softened, but Grandpa still found out and ordered people to send Sebastian far away to another country. Violet assumed it was my doing and hated me to the bone. In the years that followed, the company's confidential information was stolen. I was killed in a car accident on the very day she discovered she was pregnant. Given a second chance at life, I decide to let the lovebirds be together. But unexpectedly, after the news of my engagement is announced, Violet appears in a wedding dress, crying and begging to marry me.

I've been trying to woo Caroline Davis for the past five years just so I can receive a healthy body and return to my original world. But Caroline, in her attempt to appease her first love, Kyle Holden, makes me the scapegoat for Kyle's crimes and gets me locked behind bars. After getting released from prison, Caroline forces me to drink the alcohol that's given to me by Kyle despite knowing that I'm allergic to alcohol. Flooded by despair, I try to commit suicide. "I'd rather die than continue to pathetically woo a woman who doesn't love me at all!" I cry out. But the system suggests that I exchange away 30 years of my lifespan for a brand new conquest target instead.

Bored of having nothing to do at home, I hide my identity and apply for a job as a designer at the company my son, Jonathan Grady, runs. A few months later, I'm informed that the company wants to optimize its workforce, and I'm the first to get axed. "Why?" "Because you're menopausal. You can't get pregnant." Hearing that makes me scoff. What kind of absurd reason is that? "A designer uses her brains to do her job, no? When did a womb become so important?" I point at Sasha Johnson, who'd been hired before me and was now sitting at her desk, snacking on popcorn instead of working. "Her line compositions are still a complete mess, and she spends all of her time watching TV shows in the office. But just because she's pregnant, she's not included in the company's layoffs?" Fiona Lewis, the HR manager, looks at me as though I'm an idiot. "How can an old hag like you, who still has to work, compare yourself to her? She's pregnant with the boss' baby, you know. She's the future Mrs. Grady! The money we save from having to pay your salary can go toward buying her prenatal supplements." I freeze in shock. Did my son knock up one of his employees? But he told me he didn't want to have any kids!

On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Maya Crane, volunteered to drive me to the hospital herself. Halfway there, she suddenly let out a cold laugh. "Lara Quinn. You don't deserve Mason Sterling. "You don't deserve to carry his baby." My heart dropped. I clutched my stomach and tried to jump out of the car. However, before I could move, she jerked the steering wheel–sending my side of the car straight toward an oncoming truck. The truck swerved at the last second. Her side slammed into the guardrail. Maya was dead at the scene. I was hemorrhaging, and the baby almost came too early. In her last breath, dying in the wreck, she sent Mason a message. [Mason… Lara did this to me on purpose…] The police investigated for half a month and ruled me innocent. Mason grieved, but he stayed by my side, caring for me with obsessive tenderness while I recovered. The day I was discharged, he took me to the seaside. Then he shoved me into the ocean. His voice was cold and merciless. "Don't think destroying the evidence means you're safe. You caused her death. Pay for it with your life." The sea filled my lungs. And when I opened my eyes again–I was back to the day of my prenatal checkup.

There's a common secret kept by everyone in the upper crust. Liliana Coolidge loves me, her husband, to the core, and yet she loves the thrill of sleeping with others behind my back. She pampers her side pieces a lot, but there's one taboo that they must follow no matter what. They must never show up in front of me at all. Everyone knows that I'm the man whom she's loved for a decade and the one she almost died to marry. Liliana has made it clear that if I were dead, she'd definitely follow me to the afterlife without a doubt. But this time, her latest side piece is a rebellious one. He actually shows up before me, thinking that he has Liliana to back him up. He spams my phone with tons of used condom photos, together with Liliana's sleeping visage. "Mr. Rivero, the strawberry ribbed condom overstimulates Ms. Coolidge too much, judging from the way she kept moaning the whole night. Had she used it when she was with you in the past?" Only at that moment do I realize that my wife, who loves me to the moon and back, has chosen to pour all the love she has for me while giving her body to other people. As I stare at the photos, I weep until I don't have any tears left. Then, I draft a divorce agreement and leave my signature there. But when I turn around, I notice a 17-year-old version of Liliana standing behind me with tears streaming down her face.