Sorry, Your Third Chance Just Expired

The night my boyfriend confessed, he sobbed like a little boy.

He talked about seeing our future, about making a pact with me.

I asked him why. He just said,

"I don't remember—only that my future self will regret it. Deeply regret it, Izzie. No matter what happens, you have to give me three chances. Okay?"

Head over heels in love with Lucas, I said yes without a second thought.

But later, it was like he'd completely forgotten that night. He started getting cozy with his assistant.

That's when it all clicked.

Because the moment I picked up the pen to sign the divorce papers, I heard a voice I knew all too well.

It was nineteen-year-old Lucas.

And he was crying.

"Izzie… you promised, right? You promised."

"Izzie, I'm sure someone as big-hearted as you will let me and Lucas be together, right?"

It was a text from Mia, Lucas's assistant.

Attached were videos and photos.

Them kissing under the Eiffel Tower. Whispering sweet nothings in front of the Mona Lisa. Skinny-dipping in the Maldives. Even shots of them getting frisky against a floor-to-ceiling window with the city lights behind them.

That's when it hit me—Lucas wasn't my Lucas anymore.

We started with nothing. I worked myself to the bone to support his acting career, poured every penny I had into his dreams, ran myself ragged for him.

For seven years, I passed out on subway rides home, wrecked my stomach from endless client dinners.

I built a company from the ground up.

And Lucas? He became a household name, a star everyone wanted.

He just decided to live out all those dreams we had—with his assistant.

So I didn't hesitate. I drafted the divorce papers.

Right as I was about to sign, a voice cut through the quiet—raw and desperate.

"Izzie, no—you promised me three chances."

My whole body went cold. I knew that voice.

I turned around, and there he was: nineteen-year-old Lucas, almost see-through, wearing that cheap $30 suit I bought him back when I was working part-time jobs.

He looked just like I remembered—handsome, hopeful, mine.

I looked at young Lucas, and suddenly… I laughed.

"Alright. Three chances."

Just then, my phone rang again.

"Izzie! How many times do I have to tell you—stop harassing Mia! She's just my assistant. She's exhausted from traveling non-stop with me!"

"If you keep this up, we're canceling the beach trip!"

I put him on speaker.

Lucas's angry voice filled the room.

I glanced at young Lucas and gave him a soft smile. He looked furious.

"How dare he talk to you like that! How could he?!"

Nineteen-year-old Lucas was shaking with anger. Twenty-seven-year-old Lucas was ice cold.

"Izzie, you've got some nerve. You got a dog now or something? Get to Wind Entertainment in thirty minutes, or else—"

Young Lucas hung up for me. I said calmly,

"That's your first chance, Lucas."

I wasn't sure who I was saying it to—him, or me.

I drove to Wind Entertainment and got there forty minutes late.

The area was swarming with people and traffic was a nightmare.

When I finally reached Lucas's top-floor office and pushed the door open, he was already yelling.

"Izzie, I said thirty minutes. And now you—"

"Yep."