Three years after my fiancé fell off a cliff while on a sketching trip in the mountains, I walked straight into his solo art exhibition by accident. And there he was, the man I hadn’t been able to forget for a single day, gently adjusting the scarf around a young woman’s neck.

Every wall around us was filled with portraits he once promised he would only ever paint for me. Yet now, every single one of them was of her.

Beside me, Timothy Hansen, his closest friend, the one who had helped me handle the aftermath back then, grabbed my arm.

“Lexie, don’t do anything rash. Ethan had his reasons. He was rescued by Jane after the fall. He hit his head and lost his memory. It wasn’t on purpose that he didn’t come back.”

I gave a wry smile. “So he lost his memory. Did you lose yours, too? If Ethan was alive all this time, why didn’t you bring him back? You watched me spend the last three years drowning in pain, surviving on sleeping pills. Was that entertaining for you?”

Timothy said nothing. He didn’t even dare to look at me.

Meanwhile, the girl—Jane Green—shrank back, hiding behind Ethan like a frightened animal. Then, Ethan finally looked at me, his expression cold and distant.

“Ms. William, I didn’t come back because I didn’t want to. Jane is the one I love. As for the past, since I don’t remember it, just think of it as something from a past life.”

“A past life?”

I found it absurd. We had known each other for three years, loved each other for four, and then I had spent another three years dragging myself through despair. Yet, he tried to brush off a decade of my life with just a few casual words.

“Lexie…”

Timothy stepped in front of me, his eyes avoiding mine. “Why don’t we talk outside? There are too many people here. Let’s… not make a scene.”

Not make a scene?

I looked at him, the man who had watched me destroy myself for three years like I’d lost my mind, all while pretending to comfort me, telling me to move on.

“Timothy,” I said, my voice hoarse, “when did you find out he was still alive?”

He froze.

“Was it a year ago? Two years ago? Or… did you know from the very beginning?”

Timothy clenched his jaw before answering in a low voice, “Ethan was badly injured back then. It was Jane who carried him down the mountain herself. When he woke up, he didn’t remember anyone. The doctors said forcing him to recover his memories could put his life at risk… Besides, he’s been living peacefully in that small mountain town. He’s happy.”

“So for the sake of his peace and happiness,” I cut in softly, “I deserved to rot in hell, is that it?”

Timothy had no answer.

At that, Ethan frowned slightly.

“Miss.”

His voice was still as cool and distant as I remembered, but every word he said cut deep.

“I don’t know what kind of past I had with you, but Timothy is right. I’m doing great now.”

He reached for Jane’s hand, their fingers interlocking tightly.

“Jane saved my life. She’s the one I love now. Ms. William, you need to look to the future instead of dwelling in the past.”

It was easy for him to say.

Three years ago, Ethan told me he was going on a sketching trip to the mountains just one month before our wedding.

He had smiled and said, “Lexie, once I finish this series of ‘Mountain Spirits,’ I’ll come back and marry you.”

So, I waited and waited. However, what came instead was news of a blizzard sealing off the mountain and a search team returning with nothing but a damaged hiking boot.

I clutched that boot at the funeral and fainted three times from crying. To find his body, I sold our home and hired a private rescue team, staying at the foot of the mountain for half a year. From there, I developed severe bipolar disorder. The scars on my wrists layered over each other, one on top of the next.

A broken laugh escaped me, and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“You’re right. People should look to the future.”

I wiped my tears away and straightened my back, forcing myself to look composed.

“So, I’ll leave you in the past, too.”

Then, I turned and walked away. As I passed the largest painting in the gallery, I paused. Its title was ‘Rebirth.’ In the painting, a girl ran freely under the sunlight, her back turned to the viewer, and the girl was Jane.

However, in the lower right corner, almost hidden, was a small cluster of white flowers. They were lilies. Ethan once told me I was the only flower in his barren life. Now, those flowers had become nothing more than roadside decoration—something to be trampled without a second thought.

After I returned from the exhibition, I fell seriously ill. When the fever finally broke, I looked at my pale reflection in the mirror. Then, I applied concealer, carefully covering the dark circles under my eyes.

I still had my career. I just didn’t expect that, while meeting a client at a café downstairs from my office, I would run into Ethan again. He was sitting in a corner with Timothy, the two of them seemingly arguing about something.

I had intended to avoid them, but my client’s enthusiastic voice gave me away.

“Ms. William! Over here!”

Ethan looked up, and our eyes met instantly. This time, the cold indifference from that day was gone. In its place was curiosity.

I forced myself to look away, sat down across from my client, and began discussing the jewelry designs for the upcoming season.

“This ‘Fracture’ series is excellent,” the client said, pointing at the sketches. “That feeling of being reborn from despair is very compelling. What inspired you, Ms. William?”

My fingers tightened slightly around my coffee cup.

The inspiration came from the hallucinations I saw on the seventh day after Ethan’s presumed death, after I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. It came from the fleeting sense of relief I felt, night after night, when I dragged a blade across my own skin.

“Nothing in particular,” I said calmly. “I just think that once something is broken, it’s broken. Even if you piece it back together, the cracks remain. So you might as well shatter it and rebuild it from scratch.”

The client nodded in approval.

Not far away, Ethan suddenly stood up and walked straight toward me. Timothy tried to stop him, but failed.

“Lexie William.” He called my full name.

I ignored him and continued explaining, “For the main stone, we recommend using an uncut black diamond–”

“Lexie William!”

His voice rose sharply as he pressed a hand down on my design sketches.

The client startled, glancing between us. “Ms. William, who is this?”

I took a deep breath, closed my folder, and looked up at him.

“Mr. Ethan, what can I do for you? Please don’t interfere with my work.”

Ethan didn’t respond. His gaze was locked onto my wrist. Because my sleeve had shifted, several jagged scars were exposed. They had faded over time, but against my pale skin, they were still impossible to ignore.

“Timothy said… you tried to kill yourself three times because of me?”

There was a hint of disbelief and something else in his tone—something I couldn’t quite read. Perhaps it was guilt or just discomfort. After all, carrying the weight of someone else’s life… that kind of love was too heavy. For the man he was now, it was probably nothing more than a burden.

I pulled my sleeve down, covering the scars.

“You’re mistaken, Mr. Ethan. It has nothing to do with you. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He stiffened, clearly caught off guard, his expression turning grim.

“Lexie, I know you hate me. But I lost my memory, and I–”

“So losing your memory gives you the right to start a new life without a second thought?” I cut him off, unable to hold back anymore. The words spilled out all at once.

“Ethan, technology is so advanced now. If you really wanted to find your way home, you could’ve gone to a police station, but you didn’t. In the last three years, you had countless chances to come back and look for your past, but you chose to stay there and stay by Jane’s side. It’s not because you lost your memory. It’s because, deep down, you never wanted to come back at all.”

His eyes widened sharply. The Ethan who once stayed up all night in the city, anxious over exhibitions, mortgage payments, and our future, had found an escape in the mountains, and Jane saving his life had simply become the perfect excuse.

He stood there, stunned. Just then, the café door burst open. Jane rushed in, slightly out of breath, carrying a Tupperware.

“Ethan! Why did you run off? I made you a sandwich–”

The moment she saw the confrontation between us, her face went pale. The Tupperware slipped from her hands and hit the ground. The sandwich spilled out, dirtying Ethan’s pant leg.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…” she said frantically, crouching down to wipe it.

Ethan immediately knelt beside her and grabbed her hands, his voice suddenly gentle, like he was a completely different person.

“Don’t touch it. It’s dirty. I’m fine.”

He helped her up and pulled her protectively behind him.

“Lexie,” he said, “I’m sorry about the past, but the person I love now is Jane. She’s simple and timid. She can’t handle this kind of stress. Please don’t appear in front of us again.”

I watched the scene unfold. Strangely, I felt calm. I even found it funny.

“Don’t worry,” I said, picking up my bag. Then, I turned to my stunned client with an apologetic smile. “Let’s continue this somewhere else.”

The next half month passed in a blur. I buried myself in work, taking on the full project for the “Fragments” series. Day and night blurred together as I worked nonstop, trying to numb everything with exhaustion.

Until one day, Peter Sullivan tossed an invitation onto my desk. Peter was my childhood friend. After Ethan disappeared, he had been the one staying by my side all along.

“Go get some air,” he said, looking at me with quiet concern. “It’s a charity gala. Plenty of collectors will be there. It could help with your designs.”

I rubbed my aching temples. “No. I’m not in the mood.”

“I heard one of Ethan’s paintings will be auctioned tonight,” Peter added casually, like he was dropping bait. “It’s called ‘Years in the Mountains.’ Starting bid is five hundred thousand dollars.”

My hand paused mid-motion.

“Five hundred thousand dollars?” I sneered. “Back then, his paintings couldn’t even sell for five thousand dollars.”

“That was before. Now he’s the genius painter who came back from the dead, with that whole tragic mountain love story attached. Of course, his value’s gone up.”

I stared at the invitation, lost in thought for a long moment. In the end, I decided to go.

The night of the charity gala, I wore a black backless gown and walked in on Peter’s arm. Not far away, Ethan and Jane stood surrounded by a crowd. Ethan was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, while Jane clung to his arm, timid and innocent.

I froze. The dress Jane was wearing was mine. It was a custom-made gown I had commissioned three years ago for my engagement party. Because it was bespoke, there was a small, hidden lily embroidered along the neckline. Now, that same lily rested against Jane’s collarbone, slightly warped under the weight of her necklace. To think Ethan had given it to her to wear!

I turned sharply toward Timothy. He avoided my gaze, guilt written all over his face. Back then, he had taken the dress from my house, saying he was afraid I’d only hurt myself more by keeping it.

When Ethan noticed Peter and me, his eyes lingered for a few seconds on our linked arms. Something dark flickered in his gaze.

“Who is that?” he asked Timothy.

Timothy glanced at me, then replied awkwardly in a low voice, “That’s Peter. He’s the son of the Sullivan family… and Lexie’s childhood friend.”

Ethan pressed his lips together but said nothing.

At that moment, Jane spotted me. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately pulled Ethan over.

“Ms. William!”

Her bright voice drew attention from everyone nearby.

“You’re here too? Timothy said this was an old dress you didn’t want anymore, so Ethan let me wear it. He said it looks really good on me. Don’t you think so, too?”

I looked at Ethan, who looked away. Instinctively, he tried to pull Jane behind him, but she shook him off.

Then, she stepped closer to me and whispered right into my ear, “The fabric’s nice. It’s a shame it used to belong to you—bad luck, you know? But Ethan insisted I wear it. He said I look great in it.”

There was a sweet smile on her face, but every word she spoke was vicious. Gone was the innocent, timid girl she usually pretended to be.

Jane blinked, her expression turning harmless again, and said loudly, “Ms. William, honestly, after seeing you at the gallery that day, I think I understand your past with Ethan. But you were both young back then. It’s easy to confuse gratitude with love. Now I’m the person Etham. Ms. William, could you just let us be?”

Whispers spread through the crowd.

“What kind of complicated love triangle is this?”

“They weren’t even married. Trying to break them up now would be pretty shameless, wouldn’t it?”

Ethan’s expression darkened as he grabbed Jane’s arm. “Jane, that’s enough.”

“Why can’t I say it?” Jane pouted, looking wronged. “Ethan, are you afraid it’ll upset Ms. William? But if you don’t love her anymore, shouldn’t you make it clear?”

Then, she turned to me, her gaze openly provocative.

“Ms. William, did you know Ethan has this really cute little habit? Every time we’re in an elevator or taking a walk at night, he taps the back of my hand three times for no reason. He says it’s his secret way of telling me he loves me. Ms. William, did he ever do that with you, too?”

In that instant, the blood in my body turned ice-cold.