Chapter 1

This was my ninety-ninth loop.

The wall clock said eight in the evening. In three hours, Serena, his true love, would slit her wrists. He'd rush out like a madman. And When tried to stop him, an out-of-control truck would reduce me to a bloody mess.

This time, I wasn't going to stop him.

I even thoughtfully placed his car keys on the console table by the entryway, poured myself a glass of red wine, and waited quietly for the call to come.

The system's icy voice exploded in my mind. "Warning! Host is slacking off. This is your last loop. If the mission fails, your soul will be completely annihilated. Countdown: 3 days."

I smiled.

Three days? Enough time for me to plan a grand funeral.

The moment my eyes opened, the crushing pain of my chest bones being pulverized by a multi-ton truck seemed to linger through every nerve.

I bolted upright in bed, cold sweat soaking my silk pajamas, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. It was protesting being dragged back into a body that was already doomed.

Seven in the morning.

The sound of rushing water came from the bathroom. Ethan was showering.

According to the script of the previous ninety-nine loops, in five minutes he'd emerge wrapped in a towel, casually wiping his hair while telling me the same lie he'd told ninety-nine times.

The water stopped.

Ethan pushed open the bathroom door, water droplets sliding down his toned muscles. He didn't even glance at me, walking straight to the walk-in closet, his tone already laced with practiced impatience. "Overtime at work tonight, a multinational conference. Don't wait up for dinner."

The so-called multinational conference was just an excuse. Serena had just returned, and he was eager to go to a three-star Michelin restaurant to throw a welcome party for her.

In the past, I would have jumped out of bed barefoot, hugged him from behind, buried my face in his back, and pleaded pitifully. "But it's our wedding anniversary today. Not even for an hour?"

Then he would frown and push me away, annoyed that I had stained his shirt with tears. He'd call me childish and dramatic.

But this time, I just sat on the bed, quietly watching him perform.

My stomach was cramping from the side effects of the loops, and waves of nausea rose in my throat. I took a deep breath, forced the bile back down, then threw back the covers and got out of bed.

Ethan was rummaging through a pile of ties, his brow furrowed, clearly searching for the cobalt blue striped tie Serena had given him. In previous loops, I would deliberately hide that tie, trying to erase her presence on this special day.

I walked behind him, pulled open the bottom drawer, and retrieved the tie.

"Looking for this?"

My voice was raspy, like it had been scraped with sandpaper.

Ethan's hand froze in mid-air. He turned around, his eyes flashing with surprise, which quickly morphed into annoyance at being seen through. He opened his mouth, as if to explain, or perhaps to wait for me to hysterically question him.

But I said nothing. I stepped forward, stood on my tiptoes, and skillfully tied his tie for him. My fingers were cold; when they brushed his warm neck, I distinctly felt his muscles tense.

"This color brings out your skin tone. She'll probably like it." I adjusted the knot to perfection, then gently patted his collar, my movements as delicate as if I were arranging a shroud for a corpse.

Ethan grabbed my wrist abruptly, his grip so tight it hurt. He stared intently into my eyes, trying to find a trace of jealousy, anger, or even grievance.

Unfortunately, all he saw was an empty gaze.

"Scarlett, who's the snark for?" His voice was low, laced with suppressed anger.

I pulled my hand free, turned, and walked toward the bathroom, leaving him with only my back.

"Nothing. Just feeling tired. Go early, come back early, Ethan."

"After all, it's going to rain heavily tonight."

I knew he was still staring at me from behind; the feeling of his eyes on my back made my spine stiffen.

But I didn't look back, because the woman in the mirror had a face as pale as paper, and dark red blood was slowly dripping from her nostril.

This was the sign that my soul was beginning to strip away.

I turned on the faucet, washing the blood away with cold water again and again, the stream mixing with red, swirling down the drain, just like my absurd life.