It was the middle of the night. My boyfriend and I had just stripped off and were about to get intimate when my phone lit up with a text in the dark.   Unknown Number: I really like your boyfriend. Will you break up with him? You probably don't know this, but every night after he says good night to you, he stays on the phone with me until morning. Whenever he kisses me, he tells me my lips are softer than yours. Three people are one too many for a relationship. One of us has to go, don't you think?   I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of it. Then I looked to my left, where the older brother lay with his head on my chest, and to my right, where the younger one was hiding in the closet.   'She could at least tell me which one she wants!'

When I went to my carrier's store to cancel an old phone line, the clerk told me it was part of a 10-year family plan. "Ma'am, Mr. Lawson is the primary account holder, and there are two additional lines. Do you still want us to close yours?" I froze. Derek Lawson and I had been together for 7 years, but he'd never told me about any additional lines. Curious, I asked to see who used them. Both were registered to Tessa Cole, the struggling college student I'd supported for 6 years, and her 3-year-old son. The clerk pulled up the call history and smiled. "Your husband is such a devoted family man. He calls this line every night and spends 30 minutes reading bedtime stories." Every call matched a night when I'd had a fever or worked late and begged Derek to stay with me. He'd always claimed he was trapped in a meeting. My phone buzzed with a message from him. Derek: What's taking so long? Get the groceries. We're having friends over for dinner. The clerk was still admiring the call log. My fingertips had gone cold. I locked my phone and said, "Cancel this line and open a new account for me." After 7 years of love and compromise, all I'd earned was the privilege of watching him build a home for someone else. If he already had another family, ours could end.

After my ninth wedding fell through, Julian Hayes and I played a game of prophetic truth or dare. The rules were simple. You had to name one thing you would definitely do in the future. No lying. I looked him straight in the eye and said clearly. "If the tenth engagement doesn't make it to the altar, I'm done with you. I'll find a new groom." The tenth engagement arrived. Fifteen minutes before the ceremony. Nadia West rushed up to Julian, her eyes red, her voice shaking. "Julian, I can't find the earrings my mother left me." He panicked instantly and tried to soothe her. "Don't panic. I'll help you look." My fiancé, fifteen minutes before his tenth wedding, chose to help another woman look for earrings. I smiled and sent a message to someone, along with a selfie. Clara: Need a groom urgently. You in? The moment I hit send, a reply popped up. Unknown Number: Give me 10 minutes. On my way. I walked onto the stage and grabbed the microphone. "This farce ends now. The real wedding starts in a moment."

"Atty. Rizzo Conti, draw up a divorce agreement for me as soon as possible." Celia Visk pushed open the law firm door with a soft creak, her striking face marked by faint exhaustion. Rizzo looked up in shock. "Madam, are you sure? Your husband is the Don of the Visk family, after all." "I'm sure." Rizzo took off his glasses, his tone carried the careful, deliberate edge of professional caution. "A mafia don's marriage isn't your average union. To draft a valid divorce agreement, you need to provide proof that this marriage is irretrievably broken. Otherwise, Mr. Eric Visk can invalidate the paperwork any time he wants." A sharp, stabbing pain lanced through Celia's chest at the word. Three nights earlier, she'd just found out she was pregnant. Giddy with excitement, she'd rushed to Eric's study to share the good news. Only to freeze outside the door when she heard him talking to his underboss, Vincent Romano. Vincent's voice was reverent. "Don, all the rivals from the East Side have been taken care of." Eric's low, rough voice drifted out. "Good. Send the escort team to bring Selena back to the main estate. The rivals are gone; she doesn't need to stay in hiding anymore." 'Rivals? Selena? Selena Moreau? That was the daughter of the old maid who'd raised Eric. What did any of this have to do with her?' Vincent spoke again. "Don, what are you going to tell Madam? I know you married her to keep Miss Selena safe, but I can tell you have feelings for Madam too." "Selena grew up here. This is her home, too. As for explanations? Celia loves me so much, she'll never say no to me." Eric let out a lazy, cocky laugh, then added, "Besides, I've given Celia unmatched honor and power. I've given her almost everything I have. Everything except love. She should understand that." Her worst fears confirmed, Celia stood frozen, staring blankly at the empty air in front of her. It felt like a knife was twisting deep in her heart. It hit her all at once: every big, sweeping thing Eric had done for her, marrying her, defying his entire family for her, even granting her the same status, power, and wealth as the Don himself, had never come from love. Every last bit of it was just guilt, nothing more.

For the 7 years we were together, Julian Beckett took me shopping for one wedding item each year. He said we'd get married once we had the complete set.   In the seventh year, he took me to choose the last item: my wedding dress.   I wasn't happy with the style his executive assistant, Celia Rourke, had chosen, so I went back to pick a different dress.   I had just reached the formalwear section when I heard Julian speak in a strained, low voice.   "Celia, if you keep shutting me out, I'm really going to marry someone I don't love and spend the rest of my life with her."   Celia, who was usually so composed and efficient, was shaking with sobs.   "For 7 years, you've made me choose her diamond ring and her wedding dress myself. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"   Julian pulled her against him. His eyes were red as he demanded, "And you think it doesn't hurt me? I'm forcing the woman I dream of marrying to plan my wedding to someone else! I was only using her to get you back."   I froze, a chill spreading through me.   Now I understood why Celia had been there every time we chose a gift over the past 7 years, and why Julian always asked for her opinion.   I'd thought it was his way of showing how much he loved and valued me.   Instead, I was just a prop in their "tragic" love story, someone they used to hurt each other.   If that was what this wedding was about, I didn't want it anymore. I didn't need to finish collecting those gifts.

I have eyes that can see the countdown before a marriage breaks. When the countdown hits zero, the marriage falls apart.  The day my parents got divorced, I watched the number of their heads drop from more than ten thousand days all the way to zero. After that, whenever I dated someone, I always found myself looking at the number above their head. Then I married Rhys Keaton. For five years, the number above his head stayed steady at over twenty thousand days. I truly believed we would grow old together. It all changed on our daughter’s third birthday. We had planned a family trip to the amusement park, but he didn’t show up. Over the phone, he sounded sorry, saying, "I'm so sorry, love... something came up at work all of a sudden. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise." Then later that night, he walked through the door at nearly eleven, holding a toy in his hand... and smelling of someone else's perfume. Our daughter looked up at him and asked, "Daddy, do you not like spending my birthday with me?" Rhys went stiff. "Don't say that, honey. Of course, I do." I looked up at him. The number that had stood at more than twenty thousand days for five years had changed. It now reads: seven days. I took the gift he handed me and nodded calmly. Seven days are more than enough time to take our daughter and disappear from his life completely. 

I was on duty at the hospital over the holiday when a call came in about a serious crash on the highway. I hung up and headed to the scene. My husband was supposed to be overseas on business. Instead, he was there, at another woman's side. Her leg was trapped, and she was sobbing against him.   "Derek, is my leg going to be okay? What am I going to do if I lose it?"   "Don't be scared. You'll be okay. Even if you do lose your leg, I'll carry you wherever you need to go."   I stopped instinctively and looked down. The metal on my own leg gleamed coldly.   When I'd needed an amputation after a car accident three years earlier, he'd said, "I'm not a doctor. I can't save your leg."   When I'd broken down in tears, he'd told me, "Crying won't solve anything. I can't stand weak women."   I hadn't cried since. Only now did I understand that he didn't hate people who cried. He simply didn't love me.

In the second year after my fiancé Dominic Hargrove's death, he suddenly showed up in front of me with his first love.   When I stayed silent, he chuckled and pinched my cheek. "We haven't seen each other in 3 years. Since when did you become so well-behaved? Aren't you going to ask why I faked my death?"   I'd caught Dominic in bed with Elaine Porter 5 years earlier. I'd smashed things in a frenzy and screamed at him, demanding to know why.   He'd calmly watched me break down, then asked as if it were nothing, "Vanessa, is this really necessary? Elaine is an innocent girl. She's not like you. You were raped."   I went rigid, and the emotional shock brought on a miscarriage.   When Dominic saw the blood beneath me, he panicked and carried me to the hospital. Kneeling before me, he swore to send Elaine abroad and begged me to give him another chance.   Less than a year later, he'd suddenly died in a car accident. Now he stood right in front of me, alive and well.   I still didn't look at him. I went back to finishing my lipstick.   Dominic's expression darkened as he grabbed my hand. "Vanessa, who are you trying to fool by pretending you don't care? I'm marrying Elaine soon. If you behave yourself, I'll let you be my mistress."   My hand went still. His offer was laughable. I finally spoke, "Dominic, who would be stupid enough to wait for a dead man who never cared about her? I'm already married to someone else. Even without you, I'm still Mrs. Hargrove."

Right after we tied the knot, my husband got obsessed with night fishing, and he kept coming home later and later after each trip.   Normally, newlyweds were supposed to be glued to each other 24/7.   But he'd rather stand by the reservoir freezing his butt off all night than stay home for a single dinner with me.   When I told him he shouldn't keep going out like that, he slammed his fork down on the table right then and there.   "Eliana Myers, if you don't stop being so paranoid, we're getting a divorce."   At first, I wrote it off as him just going through a silly, impulsive phase.   Then one night, he stepped through the door at 3 a.m. A faint trace of women's perfume lingered on the collar of his jacket. His cooler was totally empty, not a single fish to be found. Nothing, that is, except a single pearl stud earring that didn't belong to me.   Later, the company held a victory celebration, and he walked straight up to me with that other woman on his arm and chewed me out in front of the entire crowd, calling me narrow-minded and saying I wasn't good enough for him.   I turned on the projector right there in front of all the guests.   The moment the screen lit up, the color drained from his face bit by bit until he was pale as a sheet.   I looked at him with a faint smile.   "Damian Cox, isn't night fishing your favorite pastime? Are you satisfied with this big fish I reeled in for you today?"

"Cecilia, I won't marry you. I love Amber. Stop being dramatic and have some dignity." The instant I got that message from my fiancé, Charles Bennett, I knew he had been reborn too. In my previous life, Charles and I had been a devoted couple for fifty full years. Everyone thought he was the perfect man. He'd never so much as said a harsh word to me. The day he died, I fainted from crying. My son, Milo Bennett, held me and swore he would give his father a dignified send-off. I lost count of the times I told myself I had married the right man and raised a good son. It wasn't until I was sorting through Charles's belongings that I found his diary. It didn't mention me once. On the last page, he had written: A lifetime spent with someone I don't love—so this is what it feels like to be tormented. Bury my ashes with Amber Paxton. Don't let your mother know. She cries too much, and it's tiresome. Amber Paxton was my best friend. And Milo had already buried the two of them in the same grave behind my back. Milo even tried to reason with me. "Dad gave you 50 years of his life. Surely you can't begrudge him the choice of who he's buried with." So my previous marriage had been nothing but a joke. When I came to my senses, I calmly deleted the message. After I blocked Charles, I opened the message from his sworn enemy, Leo Wallace. Leo Wallace: I wish you every happiness. I won't come to the wedding. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop myself from interrupting the wedding. But in another life, I would meet you first. I typed back. Cecilia Moore: The wedding is the day after tomorrow. You're the groom.