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.

I arrived at the café to find Ryan feeding Emily an egg tart.

She glanced at me with a provocative smile in her eyes. "Anna, look at Ryan. He insists on feeding me."

"I originally planned to come find you, but since I'm pregnant and can't move around easily, Ryan asked you to come instead."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot you've never been pregnant, so you probably don't understand how hard it is."

If it were before, I would have been upset and caused a scene.

Now, I did not even pay any attention to her words.

I turned to Ryan and asked him calmly, "What's going on?"

Ryan fed Emily the last bite of the egg tart and gently wiped her mouth. His eyes were full of affection.

Then, he gazed at me with a cold expression and said, "Anna, let's get a divorce."

"Emily's baby is about to be born. As the father, I can't let people gossip about him."

He sneered. "Anyway, you can't…"

Before he could finish, it seemed like something struck Ryan's mind, and he suddenly pressed his forehead, hissing in pain.

He shook his head, muttering in confusion, "Can't... What am I saying?"

I had a pretty good idea of what happened.

After the seventeen-year-old Ryan protected me, my body had fully recovered, and I regained the ability to have children. This memory must have resurfaced in thirty-year-old Ryan's mind.

Soon, his thoughtful expression faded.

He quickly lifted his head, still looking at me with that unfamiliar, cold gaze.

"Anna, I think you're not as good as Emily, so let's get a divorce."

I heard him repeat it again.

I clutched my cup of hot coffee, lightly tracing the edges of the mug, but inside, my heart was frozen.

The ones who were supposed to leave never did for just one reason.

Once one was gone, there would always be another.

"Fine, we'll divorce, but with one condition."

I pushed the diary toward him, lowered my eyes, and said in a low voice, "You have to write in it yourself: [Ryan doesn't love Anna.]"

Ryan glanced at the diary, then looked up at me. His eyes were full of surprise, curiosity, and sarcasm.

"So, do you think this will make me stay?"

"Anna, have you been watching too many romance dramas? Who hasn't said sweet things or made promises when they were young? That was all just my impulsive, angry nonsense to fool you. You actually believed it? How ridiculous."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I lightly tapped the diary with my finger. "If that's the case, then go ahead and write it down."

Ryan paused for a moment.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, he picked up the pen and quickly wrote the following words: [Ryan doesn't love Anna.]

After writing them, he said with a cold, heartless expression, "If you're still not convinced, I'll write it two more times."

Before I could speak, he quickly wrote it twice more, clean and swift.

I looked at the diary. There was no reaction on the page.

However, I knew it would show on the other end.

I picked up the pen and signed my name on the divorce agreement he had prepared.

Emily stopped me as I rose to my feet and was about to leave. "Anna, wait, I need to talk to you."

Then she told Ryan to get something to eat, claiming that the baby was hungry.

Ryan gently nodded, then shot me a warning look before leaving.

Emily suddenly snatched my diary and started flipping through it. There was a mocking smile on her face. "Is this Ryan's diary? I heard he used to always write about you in it. Too bad…"

"Even if he loved you so much back then, what does it matter now? If he really loved you, then what's my place?"

"Do you know how obsessed he is with me? After he's with you every year on your birthday and your wedding anniversary, he comes to spend time with me."

"He demands a lot from me. Every time, we'd go through several boxes, and the next day, his legs would be weak. We left traces of us in his Maybach, his office, and even in your bed."

I raised my hand in anger.

However, the next second, Emily was lying on the floor, screaming in pain.

The scream was so loud that Ryan rushed back immediately. When he saw Emily's pitiable expression, his face twisted with frantic concern. "What happened? What's going on?"

Emily theatrically squeezed out a single tear. "It's my fault. I took Anna's place as Mrs. Lane, so she accidentally pushed me."

"Ryan, please don't be mad at her."

Ryan glared at me. His eyes were bloodshot.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, he suddenly rose, his hands wrapping around my neck with a crushing force. His eyes were wide with fury. "If I'd known you were such a petty, poisonous woman, I shouldn't have protected you back then. I should've let you die!"

I bitterly smiled.

Look, Ryan Lane. Even though I warned you that you would keep using these things to hurt me, you still had not changed.

"Ryan, this disgusting face of yours is enough to make anyone sick."

The diary in my hand fell in front of him.

The thirty-year-old Ryan picked it up, looking at me with disgust.

"Do you think a stupid thing like this can keep me here?"

"Every time I see the words in here, it reminds me of how I loved you, and it makes me feel sick and ashamed."

"Give it back to me!"

Ryan dodged my hand and ripped the diary from me with a sharp tug.

"You want it?"

He immediately ripped the diary to shreds as he listened to me, tossing the pieces in the air. "There, now I've given it to you!"

I crouched on the ground, looking up as the pieces of the destroyed diary fluttered down like snowflakes.

Suddenly, I started laughing louder and louder.

It was over.

It was really over now.

As Ryan watched me laugh, his veins bulged on his forehead, and he finally exploded. "Emily almost miscarried because of you, and you're still laughing?"

His bloodshot eyes filled with murderous intent as he grabbed the steak knife on the plate and lunged at me.

However, the pain I expected never came.

One drop, two drops…

Warm liquid dripped onto my face, along with a metallic smell of blood.

I opened my eyes and saw the knife held firmly in a hand just inches from me.

Following the line of his arm, I saw the seventeen-year-old Ryan appear in front of me.

His abdomen was wrapped in thick bandages. His eyes were bloodshot with fury. He stared at the thirty-year-old Ryan with a gaze that shifted from anger to disbelief and, finally, to utter despair.

He gripped the sharp knife tightly.

Blood dripped from his hand. It fell into my eyes and blurred into a brilliant poppy flower.