When I was seventeen, someone stabbed me in the womb, leaving me unable to have children for the rest of my life. My husband promised he would love me forever. Still, after just five years of marriage, he cheated on me with the very person responsible for my injury. They even had a child together, and he wanted me to divorce him so she could replace me.

When the ninety-ninth specialist firmly told me I could never conceive, my husband did not hesitate to abandon me, storming off in anger.

I chased him to his office, only to hear rhythmic and intimate sounds from inside.

“Emily, have my child. Be my wife, will you?”

The hand I had raised to knock fell limply at my side, powerless, as his words echoed in my ears.

When I returned home, I took down all our wedding photos and noticed my husband’s long-unused diary.

Filled with anger and frustration, I picked up a pen and scrawled five furious words across the page.

[Ryan Lane, we are done!]

A sentence appeared below my writing out of nowhere. [Who are you? Why are you scribbling in my diary?]

Overcome with emotion, I forgot my fear and replied: [I’m Anna White. It’s because you don’t love her.]

…

One by one, the words jumped off the page: [You’re Anna White?]

[No way. Who are you really?]

[How can you appear in my diary?]

Three questions in rapid succession.

I was so frightened that I instantly threw the diary away when I saw it.

It took me two full minutes to calm down before I mustered the courage to pick it up again.

Staring at the words, I replied hesitantly: [This is your diary? Who are you?]

[I’m Ryan.]

The words were written neatly, confidently, and with an air of authority.

My hand trembled as I held the pen.

Was the person on the other side the seventeen-year-old Ryan?

Before I could process this, more words appeared hastily:

[You still haven’t answered me. Who exactly are you?]

I quickly responded to his words: [I’m Anna White, thirty years old.]

[The person you’ll become will hurt me. So, the seventeen-year-old Ryan, please stay away from me.]

The diary fell silent.

Ten seconds later, the pen carved sharply into the paper: [That’s impossible!]

I could almost see the angry and stubborn face of seventeen-year-old Ryan in the diary, passionately defending a promise he would inevitably break in the future.

Back then, his love was pure and unwavering. He could never have imagined that the man he would become at thirty would be so cruel and heartless.

I was about to reply when the door suddenly burst open. A gust of wind flipped the diary’s pages.

I quietly closed it as the thirty-year-old Ryan strode in, rummaging through drawers.

Previously, he would hug me from behind whenever he came home, nuzzling my hair like a clingy cat.

Every time I pushed him away, trying to escape the tickling, he would lean in closer, whispering sweet words that made me blush.

His gaze would not linger on me for more than half a second now.

After ten minutes of searching in vain, his irritation boiled over, and he finally turned to me.

“Have you seen the Lane family’s heirloom?”

“Emily is carrying my son, and the heirloom is always passed to the eldest son.”

My chest tightened painfully.

On our wedding day, he had personally handed me the heirloom in front of all the guests, asking me to keep it safe.

His younger brother protested angrily, “Ryan, the heirloom is meant to be passed down! Everyone knows she can’t have children, so how is she qualified to keep it?”

Back then, I was injured in an accident thirteen years ago and rendered infertile.

No one had ever dared to mention it in front of Ryan. However, his brother had cruelly brought it up in front of everyone on our wedding day.

The atmosphere became painfully awkward.

All eyes were on me.

Ryan had gripped my hand tightly, slapped his brother across the face, and declared, “Even if Anna can’t have children, she’s still the only one worthy of keeping the heirloom.”

I felt fortunate to have married him at that moment.

I had guarded it diligently for five years.

Now, he was breaking his promise.

I opened a drawer before me, pulled out the jade pendant engraved with the word “peace,” and handed it to him.

Ryan snatched it, and a smile spread across his face. “Finally! If Emily wears this, she and the child will be safe.”

Only then did he bother to look at me; his gaze was ice-cold and indifferent.

“Heirlooms are meant to be passed down. Now that Emily is carrying my child, it’s only right she gets it.”

“I have to go check on her. I’ll come back to celebrate our anniversary with you after I’m done.”

As he reached the door, he paused momentarily, glancing back at me with a condescending smile.

“Don’t worry. Even if Emily has a son, you’ll still be Mrs. Lane.”

A slap followed by a token of pity. It had become his go-to tactic in recent years.

As I watched him leave with a smile on his face, I let out a bitter laugh.

He called me his wife, yet he had a child with another woman.

I opened the diary again and saw a new line of text:

[I missed my chance to take the spot behind her because you took too long to reply.]

I quickly picked up our old graduation photo. I was stunned to discover that the seventeen-year-old Ryan’s position in the picture had changed.

I looked at the diary. My breath caught in my throat, and my fingers trembled.

Could Ryan, on the other end of the diary, change the future?

Before I could come to my senses, another line quickly appeared in the diary: [If you really are Anna, tell me, which position was I standing in the graduation photo?]

I replied instantly: [You were standing behind Emily.]

The diary fell silent again.

After waiting for a minute without a response, I finally took up my pen and wrote, each stroke heavy and deliberate:

[Ryan, please walk away from my life.]

[Why? If you really are Anna, don't you know that I love you!?]

The last question mark was written with such force that it tore through the paper.

[Love? Just because of your love, the day after the graduation photo was taken, I was stabbed in the abdomen by someone Emily sent, damaging my womb and making it impossible for me to have children!]

[And now, the thirty-year-old you have let her carry your child.]

With every word I wrote, the painful memories became clearer.

I tried everything to forget about that incident. Still, I woke up from this tormenting memory, unable to sleep for countless nights.

It had become my inescapable nightmare.

Thirteen years ago, Emily begged Ryan to stand behind her, but he refused.

Ryan firmly stood behind me and told her that not only now but also, he would stand by my side when we took our wedding photos in the future.

His pure and sincere confession made my ears burn with warmth.

However, the next day, Emily, who was desperate, found a group of thugs and cornered me in an alley.

Ryan, who rushed over after hearing the news, saw me covered in blood and broke down in terrified, uncontrollable tears.

He frantically picked me up and ran to the hospital with red eyes, begging the doctors to save me.

However, it was too late. My womb had been badly damaged, and I could never have children.

Ryan held me, crying uncontrollably. He swore to love me for the rest of his life and never to let me suffer any harm again.

Which is why, I never expected him to be with Emily, the one who hurt me and had a child with her, now.

[Ryan, promise me, if you love me, walk away from my life.]

[Far away, as far as possible! All right?]

[I'm begging you!]

I waited for a reply that never came and curled up on the floor with the diary, drifting into a blurry sleep.

I saw seventeen-year-old Ryan desperately running in the dark alley in my dream.

His face was filled with panic and urgency.

Suddenly, I was jolted awake. I looked outside. It was already deep into the night.

The thirty-year-old Ryan still had not come home. There was no phone call, not even a text.

Nevertheless, Emily's social media was updated every ten minutes. There were thirty posts in total.

The first post was of Ryan putting the family heirloom around her neck.

The second was of him gently blowing on the hot soup and then feeding it to her.

The third was of him lying on her belly, listening to the baby's movements with a look of pure happiness.

...

Each post had comments from friends congratulating them.

[Congratulations, Mr. Lane, on becoming a father.]

[I told you Lane wouldn't stick with Anna, that eggless chick, but you didn't believe me.]

[How could Anna be worthy of Mr. Lane? He and Emily are a perfect match. They're truly made for each other.]

Ryan liked every post.

Perhaps, deep down, he believed the same.

I closed the social media app, feeling light-headed and drowsy. Lying on the couch, I felt my body grow heavy, my mind clouded with confusion.

In my dream, the seventeen-year-old Ryan had finally escaped the alley.

What he saw was me being beaten on the ground by a group of thugs and the seventeen-year-old Emily pulling out a knife and aiming it at my stomach.

"Anna!"

The next second, Ryan's eyes were filled with bloodshot rage, and he ran toward them like a madman.

His target was the leader of the thugs. He swung a brick, smashing it into the man again and again.

The others rushed at him and stabbed him dozens of times.

Ryan did not care. He held the bloody brick tightly and used his last strength to crush the thug leader's skull. His face twisted with fury as he yelled at the others, "Those who are not scared to die, step up!"

The thugs were paralyzed by his reckless spirit and fled in panic.

When they finally disappeared into the alley, Ryan collapsed in front of me.

Our eyes met. His gaze was firm, and his face was wearing a proud smile. "Anna, I told you I would protect you, and I did."

"Ryan! I don't need you to protect me!”

"Just leave me!"

I screamed his name, and in that instant, I was jolted awake, tears flooding my eyes before I even realized it.

I sat on the couch, gasping for air. My body was shaking. I could not tell whether it was from fear or cold.

I looked down at the diary in my hands and felt my mind spinning, unable to tell whether this was a dream or a memory.

I pulled up my shirt, and my body froze. Quickly, I pressed my hand to my stomach.

The scar that had followed me for thirteen years was suddenly gone.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

I opened the diary again and saw a new line of writing, but this time, the words were slanted and shaky, as though they were written by someone exhausted and weak.

[Anna, I saved you.]

Once my emotions calmed, I replied calmly: [That's what you should have done.]

If it were not for his love…

If it were not for that love, he would betray in the future…

How could I have ended up being found by Emily and lost the most important thing to a woman?

The thirty-year-old Ryan had a child with the very person who had hurt me, and once again, he hurt me.

The words in the diary wavered, unclear, as though the writer was struggling.

[Anna, is there anything else I can do for you?]

It was not until the seventeen-year-old Ryan wrote the final question mark that I replied: [I already told you. Leave me alone.]

[Disappear for good, and don't use your love now as a weapon to screw me over later.]

When everyone used to mock me for being unable to have children, it was Ryan who held my hand firmly, standing in front of me to shield me from the storm.

I feared no mockery, no insults, no venomous curses because of his love.

However, when he let go of my hand and joined the crowd that used to ridiculed me, I nearly collapsed in despair. I even thought about ending everything.

It could be said that the more he loved me in the past, the greater the pain he caused me later. It was a hundred, a thousand times more painful than the damage done to my womb.

My heart, long broken by him, would never beat again.

The sound of frantic writing filled the air, each word sinking deep into the paper, nearly piercing through it.

[This can't be true!]

[Anna, do you know? You used to stand by the third pillar outside the classroom, listening to music every day after class. I'd deliberately take a five-minute detour just to catch a glimpse of you. Just seeing you made me so happy.]

[One time during gym class, I heard you had a fever. I was so worried that I rushed out of school to buy medicine for you, afraid you'd suffer even for a second longer…]

[And there's more…]

I interrupted him. [I know. I know everything.]

[There was one time during my period, and you blushed as you went out and bought me sanitary pads.]

[There was another time when I was bullied by the school bully. The moment you heard about it, you went straight to confront him. Neither of you showed up at school for a week. He ended up with a broken leg and had to transfer, and you got your head smashed, spending a whole week in the hospital.]

The diary paused for ten seconds before responding: [You know all that? How do you know?]

[The future you told me. You told me everything one by one and said you regretted it all.]

Ryan had once said that he should have listened to advice and never married me, the woman who could not have children and that it had led to five years of shame.

He also said that he should have let the school bully continue to torment me, that saving me so soon only made me ungrateful, pushing him further away.

He always boasted about his great accomplishments and then did whatever he wanted in our marriage until now, when he had a child with the woman who had once hurt me.

Tears fell onto the diary, blurring the ink.

I was terrified of damaging the diary, knowing I could not change the past. I hurriedly tried to wipe it off but pressed too hard, tearing the page in half.

In a moment of panic, I suddenly realized that everything around me had transformed into a hospital room.

Before me lay a seventeen-year-old boy with his abdomen wrapped in thick bandages.

His face was pale. His wound pulled at his furrowed brow in pain.

The seventeen-year-old Ryan held the bloodstained bandage with one hand and wrote laboriously with the other, mumbling to himself.

[Anna, don't worry. I'll protect you. I'll never hurt you…]

His serious, determined face was like he was working on something of utmost importance.

Just as he wrote this, the seventeen-year-old him seemed to sense something.

His hand stopped abruptly, and our eyes met the moment he looked up.

"Anna?"

In that instant, the eyes I had longed forgotten, as pure and clear as crystal water, met mine once more.

His dry lips parted to speak, but before he could, the sharp ring of a phone interrupted.

I looked around and saw that the house was in chaos.

It was all caused by thirty-year-old Ryan.

The phone rang loudly.

It was a call from the thirty-year-old Ryan. He spoke with an authoritative tone, "Come to the café downstairs at the company right now. Emily and I need to talk to you in person."

More words appeared in the diary at the same time.

[Trust me, okay? I would never do that.]

[I love you so much that even if you wanted to take my life, I'd let you.]

The naive and eager young boy believed promises would become the most beautiful rose.

One that would never wilt as long as it was given to the one he loved.

I tightened my grip on the pen, and my gaze dropped.

Fine.

If you did not believe me, then I would let the thirty-year-old Ryan tell you himself.