Bye Husband, I'm Leaving You With My Sister

I wrote my sister's name on the marriage license.

This time, I would give Jake exactly what he wanted.

This time, I would be the one to help my sister into her wedding gown, the one to slide the engagement ring onto her finger.

I would carefully arrange every moment between them.

When he took her to New York City, I would slip away quietly—heading south to the University of Miami without a word.

Because in my past life, even after I turned fifty, he and our son were still begging me for a divorce.

Begging me to finally make things right between him and my sister.

Now that I was reborn, all I wanted was to spread my wings and leave love behind.

"Just fill out your name and hand it over," Jake said, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table.

I stared down at the marriage license, my fingertips tracing the rough edge of the paper, lost in thought.

In my past life, I had filled in my own name as if it were something sacred. I'd practically dragged Jake out afterward, giddy with excitement, to shop for wedding favors.

Only to be met with a storm of harsh words—all because he was in a hurry to get back and make ginger tea for Chloe, who was on her period.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I mumbled, pretending not to care.

I looked up and saw the anxiety written all over his face. His eyes kept darting toward his watch.

He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms.

Chloe loved when he dressed like that. She said he looked clean-cut and refreshing.

"If you're in a hurry, you can go," I said, forcing my voice to sound light, swallowing down the bitterness rising in my throat. "I'll turn it in when I'm done."

His whole body relaxed. His tone softened.

"Don't worry, we're getting married. I'll take care of you."

"But please—try not to be jealous of Chloe anymore. People talk, and it's not good for her reputation."

I stayed quiet. In my past life, I had explained myself over and over.

But to him, I was always just the jealous older sister.

The petty one who couldn't stand her kind and gentle younger sibling.

He didn't say another word. Just turned and hurried away.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my pounding heart, but my mind kept replaying scenes from before.

Our wedding night—he spent the whole thing with Chloe, saying she was sick. When he got stationed in New York, he only took Chloe, saying she'd never been.

Even the day our son was born, Jake wasn't there. He was too busy comforting a heartbroken Chloe after her divorce.

Then, just before I died, our son was whispering in my ear:

"Mom, just divorce Dad. You're not half the woman Aunt Chloe is."

"Dad's been miserable with you all these years. Let him go."