The Night It Ended

On the first night of our graduation trip, the class representative, Gordon Perkins, suggests that we draw lots in order to get our rooms assigned to us. "Let fate decide the pairs who get to stay in the same room as long as they have the same number, regardless of their gender! Imagine how exciting this is!" Throughout my four-year college life, Ivan Decker and I have been in a relationship for three of those years. No one knows about our relationship, though. I pull out a ball from the box and await my partner. When it's Ivan's turn, he draws out a ball with the number seven. Gordon raises his voice immediately. "The other lucky person who gets to stay in room seven is… Rebecca Benson!" Rebecca, the young woman whom Ivan has pursued in a high-profile manner in the past, goes bright red. Everyone cheers on them right away, claiming that Lady Fate really wants them to be together. But I'm the only one who stays silent. No one knows that I've heard Gordon secretly tell Ivan something before it's time to draw lots. "Look for the ball with the raised dot. I specially saved those ones for you and Rebecca." As I look at Ivan, who walks over to Rebecca and picks up her suitcase for her with a soft smile, I find myself smiling as well. It turns out that Ivan never plans on making our relationship official despite having waited for him for three years. This time, I decide to be the one who leaves first.

My CEO boyfriend had threatened to break up with me 99 times. So when he found out I willingly handed a multimillion-dollar contract to his junior protégée, freshly returned from studying abroad, he assumed I had finally caved. He was so pleased that he proposed we get engaged. But the moment she caught wind of it, she lost it. She skipped the contract signing, stopped showing up to work, and threatened to resign. My boyfriend, who had always doted on her, completely panicked. He promoted her on the spot, then used a business trip as an excuse to cancel our engagement plans and flew to another city to throw her a lavish engagement ceremony instead. When he came back, he brushed it off like it was nothing. "It was just a ceremony. It's not like we're actually married. Why are you being so dramatic about it? "Anya's a top-tier talent with an overseas education. I did this for the company, for our future. You're going to be my wife, so I'd think you of all people would understand." I gripped my phone, staring at the photo she had just posted online. Two matching engagement rings sat front and center, his and hers. I did not argue. I just nodded. He lit up, convinced I had finally come around. He promised to throw me an even bigger ceremony once he was back from his trip. What he did not know was that I had already submitted my resignation. The moment he agreed to hold an engagement ceremony with another woman, I was done.

Each of my three ex-boyfriends ends up committing suicide right after eating food that my mother, Florence Winters, makes. Their deaths are very different from one another, with the only similarity being that they all eat food made by Mom before they die. Mom goes viral in an instant. She becomes the center of everyone's attention, and she is even taken away by the police. But they never manage to find anything wrong with any of the food she makes. I don't dare to get into another relationship. I pack my things and move out of the house, leaving Mom. Two years later, Mom shows up at my engagement party. She proceeds to feed my fiance, Lawrence Smith, some food…

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

I had supported Lauren Geller through seven years of competitive cycling. After she defended her championship title, I handed her the divorce papers myself. Her shining career ended there and then. I had been able to carry her to the summit, and I could just as easily lift someone else in her place. It was not until I appeared before her with my girlfriend that she finally understood. It had never been Lauren who abandoned me; I was the one who chose to walk away.

On Valentine's Day, my wife gave her late sister's widower a fifty-two-thousand-dollar Rolex. "Marcus, my sister may be gone, but that does not mean you should go without the things other men have." Marcus took the watch with barely hidden excitement. "From now on, my son and I will depend on you." My wife thumped her chest and promised she would be his and his son's support from now on. I watched the two of them cling to each other and said calmly, "Ines Sutherland, I want a divorce." She frowned at me. "It is just a watch. What are you jealous about this time?" I smiled faintly and handed over the divorce agreement. "Sign it. Then you can take care of Marcus with a clear conscience."