Chapter 3: Waking Up in the Wrong Life

Without thinking, I reached for the spot where Marcus’s tear had fallen. My fingers hovered over my cheekbone, like if I pressed hard enough, I could bring back all those years—the gentle comfort of growing old together.

Once, we’d grown old side by side. Our mornings were slow—Marcus shuffling to make coffee, hands shaking as he poured the cream. I’d tease him for making it too strong. The TV blared the news, and we’d share the crossword, our laughter soft and familiar. I’d read to him by the window—his favorite baseball stories, snippets from old novels. Sometimes he’d drift off, and I’d just sit there, holding his hand, grateful for every quiet moment.

But now, the soft, unlined skin beneath my hand shattered the illusion. I stared at my hands—no wrinkles, no wedding ring. Somehow, I’d been dropped back into the life I thought I’d already lived.

This year, I, Natalie Greene, was still unmarried, and Marcus was about to turn eighteen. On this day in my previous life, he’d just been promoted—driving through Maple Heights, full of pride and energy, admiring the blossoming maples and striking up a friendship with my cousin Lillian at the Willow Lake gazebo.

They became confidants, sharing everything. Lillian told Marcus I was the favorite at home, clever and lively. So every holiday, Marcus would invite both of us, sometimes bringing along a few other cousins for good measure.

I’d always suspected Marcus liked Lillian, but he never let on—not really. Even when Lillian was devastated by her husband’s family, Marcus only replied with a cool, “I know.” Later, when her in-laws refused her a proper burial, it was me who begged Marcus to bring her ashes home.

But on this very same day, month, and year—why did Marcus come to propose to my cousin?

The question weighed on me like a Michigan winter—cold, heavy, impossible to shake. I stood by the window, watching a lone robin hop along the fence, and wondered if fate was giving me a second chance or just playing a cruel joke.