Returning to Say No Chapter 2

At her words, a ripple of laughter went through the room.

The contrast was stark. Isabella was draped in designer labels, her makeup so flawless it looked airbrushed, every strand of hair in place. She radiated the effortless confidence of old money.

I, on the other hand, had just stepped out of an operating room after nearly twenty-four hours without sleep. I looked and felt like a ghost, utterly drained. My comfortable sweats were a no-name brand I’d grabbed from a random shop. There was no comparison.

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” I replied simply, taking a seat and helping myself to the buffet. After a high-intensity shift, I was starving.

As I was savoring a bite of food, Joshua strode over to my table. He placed a check for one hundred thousand dollars in front of me.

“This is for old times’ sake,” he said, his voice laced with condescending pity. “To help you out. Do something nice for yourself. Get a more respectable job, buy some new clothes. Learn to love yourself again.”

He paused, sighing dramatically. “Sienna, the past is the past. You need to stop dwelling on it.”

“If it weren’t for you… well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“What matters is that you don’t let my leaving ruin you. Don’t just give up on life, okay?”

I looked up at him, genuinely confused. The unfinished sentence sparked my curiosity. What had I supposedly done in our last life that made him abandon me so completely in this one?

In our previous life, we went from high school sweethearts to the altar. He had his musical dreams, and I wanted to be a doctor—both paths required immense time and money. One of us had to sacrifice.

Because I loved him, I gave up my spot in a prestigious medical research program and got a job right out of college, supporting both of our dreams on my single income.

He failed again and again. With every rejection, he grew more bitter, more withdrawn. And like a tireless charger, I’d come home exhausted from my own job only to spend my nights patiently soothing his bruised ego.

I thought he understood my love.

Then came the day he wanted a new guitar. When I told him we couldn’t afford it, he flew into a rage and smashed his old one against the wall.

“Do you know what she said?” he’d screamed at me, his face contorted. “Isabella told me to go with her to the States! If I’d listened to her, I wouldn’t be living this miserable life!”

“I regret ever getting together with you.”

After that, he stopped playing. His dream died. And his words—“I regret ever getting together with you”—became a mantra that haunted my nights.

I made one last desperate attempt. I held him close and whispered, “Joshua, I want to have a baby with you.”

He shoved me away, his eyes filled with a disgust I’ll never forget.

“Are you insane? Look at our finances! How can we afford a child? Besides, I’ve told you before—I hate kids! I don’t want to have a child with you!”

Those two sentences shattered the last bit of hope in my heart.

That year, on the way home for the holidays, a large truck crossed the median. In that final moment, I felt no fear. Only relief.

Now, reborn, we had both chosen to keep our distance. There was no need to dredge up the past.

I calmly pushed the check back across the table. “No, thank you. I don’t accept things from strangers.”