The Second-Chance Fiancé Chapter 1

The car crash happened on our way home for the holidays. One moment, my husband, Jeremy, and I were driving; the next, darkness.

When I opened my eyes again, we were back before we even started dating.

In my first life, our seven-year marriage was a masterclass in politeness. We were like respectful strangers sharing a roof, a bed, but never a heart. He wouldn’t even give me a child. It was only later that I understood why: he had never gotten over his first love, the one that got away.

So, this time, I decided to set him free.

Without a word, we quietly deleted each other from our contacts, kept our distance, and chose different paths.

Seven years later, he was a rising star on Wall Street, and at our high school reunion, he and his old flame, Isabella Vance, made their engagement official. He saw me standing alone and couldn't resist a taunt, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Jodi," he said, his voice laced with condescending pity. "I know I was the best you ever had, the love of your life in two lifetimes. But you don't have to stay single forever, waiting for me."

I didn't bother to answer. I just reached out and took my son's hand.

The color drained from Jeremy’s face. His eyes, suddenly wild and bloodshot, locked onto me.

"You told me you'd love me forever," he hissed, his voice cracking. "That you'd only ever have children with me."

* * *

The first time I saw Jeremy Olson again was at our seven-year high school reunion.

I’d just come off a marathon of surgeries and was too exhausted to even think about changing. I walked straight into the lavish hotel ballroom in my scrubs. Jeremy was the center of attention, of course, his arm wrapped possessively around Isabella Vance's waist as he soaked in the praise.

"Jeremy, you're killing it, man!" one old classmate gushed. "A few years on Wall Street and you're already one of the biggest names. You're the pride of Oakhaven High!"

"No kidding," another chimed in. "I heard the big dogs in New York pay a fortune just to have dinner with him. The consulting fee alone is what most of us make in a year!"

"Hey, Jeremy, I'm dabbling in stocks," a third pleaded. "For old times' sake, give me a tip, let me ride your coattails!"

Then, a curious voice cut through the noise. "So, Jeremy, are you and Isabella finally tying the knot?"

Jeremy’s gaze softened as he looked down at the woman in his arms. "We are. The engagement party is December 20th."

A fresh wave of congratulations erupted.

Then, someone turned to him. "Jeremy, do you ever talk to Jodi anymore? You two were so intense back in the day. Didn't you write your first song for her?"

At the mention of my name, I saw his smile freeze, his eyes darken ever so slightly.

Isabella, ever the graceful fiancée, just laughed it off. "Oh, you know how it is," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "High school hobbies don't last, and neither do high school romances. He's been over Jodi for a long, long time."

The crowd chuckled, turning their attention back to what a perfect couple they were.

But I knew the truth. That song wasn't just a song. It was the melody he’d written to ask me out, the one he’d played for me under the bleachers, his eyes shining with what I thought was sincerity.

"Jodi, look at me," he'd said back then, his voice earnest. "I love you. My eyes would never lie."

And I believed him.

Turns out, they could and they did.

I walked further into the ballroom, my expression neutral. A classmate with sharp eyes spotted me.

"Jodi! You finally made it!"

"What are you wearing? You couldn't find a dress?"

"Don't tell me you just got off work. Where are you slaving away these days? We've got some heavy hitters here, maybe one of them can hook you up with a real job!"

The whispers and snickers followed me as I found an empty seat. I ignored them, focusing on the simple, profound pleasure of food.

Jeremy had been watching me since the moment I walked in. His gaze was a heavy, unreadable weight.

He finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with mockery. "Jodi Summers. Years go by, and you haven't changed a bit. Still no ambition."

Isabella’s eyes flashed with a venomous glint, but she quickly masked it, snuggling closer to Jeremy's arm as if to mark her territory.

"Jeremy, darling, don't be so harsh," she cooed, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Life's been a little rough for her, we shouldn't rub it in. Jodi's had it hard enough."

She raked her eyes over my casual attire, a smirk playing on her perfectly painted lips. "But really, Jodi, what is this look? You're not getting any younger. A woman has to take care of herself, you know. Otherwise, how will you ever find a husband? What man wants a woman who's let herself go?"

She leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you need to borrow some makeup?"

The question hung in the air, followed by a ripple of suppressed laughter. The contrast was stark. Isabella was a vision in designer labels, her makeup flawless, every strand of hair in place, radiating the effortless confidence of old money. And then there was me. I hadn't slept in nearly 24 hours, fresh from the operating room, looking as haggard as I felt. My clothes were comfortable, unbranded, and a world away from her curated perfection.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," I replied calmly, turning my attention back to my plate. After the intensity of surgery, I hadn't eaten all day.

As I was savoring a bite of steak, Jeremy approached my table. He slid a check across the polished wood, placing it directly in front of me. It was for ten thousand dollars.

"This is for old times' sake," he said, his tone that of a benevolent king bestowing charity. "A little something to help you out. Treat yourself. Get a more respectable job, buy some new clothes. Learn to love yourself again."

He paused, his expression shifting. "Jodi, the past is the past. Don't dwell on it." He sighed dramatically. "If it weren't for you... well, it doesn't matter now."

"What matters is that you can't let my leaving destroy you. You can't just give up on life like this. Promise me."

I looked up, genuinely confused. What had I done in our past life that made him so certain he had to abandon me in this one?

In that other life, we went from high school sweethearts to a married couple. He had his musical dreams, and I had my dream of becoming a doctor—both paths were draining, financially and emotionally. One of us had to sacrifice. And because I loved him, I was the one who walked away from a prestigious medical residency, taking a job to support both of our dreams on a single income.

He failed, again and again. Each rejection plunged him into a deeper despair. And I was his constant, his endless source of support, coming home exhausted only to spend hours rebuilding his fragile ego. I thought he saw my love in that sacrifice.

I was wrong.

The breaking point came when he wanted a new, expensive guitar, and I had to tell him we simply couldn't afford it. He exploded, smashing his old guitar against the wall in a fit of rage.

"Don't you get it?!" he screamed, his face twisted with resentment. "If I had just listened to Isabella and gone to America with her, I wouldn't be living like this! I regret ever getting together with you!"

After that, he gave up on music. He lost his dream.

And his words—"I regret ever getting together with you"—became a ghost that haunted my nights.

I made one last, desperate attempt to save us. I wrapped my arms around him one night and whispered, "Jeremy, I want to have a baby with you."

He shoved me away, his eyes filled with a chilling disgust. "Are you insane? Look at our finances! We can't 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.

When that truck swerved into our lane on New Year's, I wasn't scared. I was relieved. It was an escape.

Now, we had both been given a second chance, and we had both chosen to walk away. There was no need for "old times' sake."

I pushed the check back towards him. "No, thank you. I don't accept gifts from strangers."