Chapter 1
1253 Words
All I did was take a nap.
When I woke up, I found myself trapped on the very day I broke up with my ex-boyfriend.
*****
In our dingy Riverdale apartment, I sat dazed on the bed, my eyes locking with Larry Lockwood, who was standing in front of me.
I saw that familiar, handsome face of his, and he was wearing a washed-out gray shirt.
The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing well-defined muscles.
I drew in a sharp breath.
Damn it, why am I dreaming about my ex-boyfriend whom I haven't seen in three years?
My mind was still foggy when I heard Larry speak with a scowl on his face, "Quincy, can you have some self-respect? It's just getting fired from your waitressing job! Are you really going to let this setback make you give up on yourself?"
What? Fired from my waitressing job?
I suddenly realized that I was dreaming about the day I ended my relationship with Larry.
During that time, I was working as a waitress at a restaurant. I got into an argument with a customer to protect a coworker he was groping, but that coworker ended up claiming I had misread the situation and acted impulsively, which led to my boss laying me off.
By the time Larry arrived at the restaurant, my eyes were red and puffy, and I was gritting my teeth as I paid the customer's medical bills.
Larry even sneered, "Do you think you're the most righteous person in the world? Was that coworker of yours even worth sticking up for? How many times do you think your meager salary can cover medical bills like this?"
I felt so wronged that my whole body was shaking.
What I needed was comfort, not his barrage of sarcasm.
So we had a nasty fight and stopped talking to each other.
But that fight wasn't the real reason we broke up — it was the time I accidentally overheard him talking to his mom on the phone.
I still remember him standing on the balcony, the wind carrying fragments of his voice to my ears.
"Her? She's nothing ... just a passing distraction. She doesn't even know my real identity! Mom, I know what I'm doing."
That was when I found out Larry wasn't a random, broke guy at all. He was a rebellious rich kid who'd turned his back on the family business just to set up his own law firm.
That's why I was the one who initiated the breakup back then.
Even though I knew this was just a dream, thinking back on those old memories still made Larry seem just as detestable to me as he did back then.
Larry was clearly loaded. Why had he rented this shabby apartment with me, splitting the rent and utilities evenly?
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. As I looked at him right now, a pointless, simmering anger bubbled up in my chest.
"Yeah! I'm just a useless, unmotivated mess! If you don't like it, then we're done!"
Larry froze for a moment, then his lips twisted into that usual sneer of his. "Fine, we'll break up. But let's have breakfast first."
He turned and strode into the living room.
I stared after him and started packing my things without a word.
This dream was quite realistic; everything was exactly as I remember it.
The bathroom mirror was missing a corner, and the squat toilet tank was broken, so I had to fill a bucket with water to flush.
In the three years after I broke up with Larry and moved out, this house kept appearing in my dreams.
He would show up in the dream, smiling at me, getting angry at me, being intimate with me, as if we had never been apart.
I flipped open the suitcase out of habit, a wave of irritation welling up in my chest.
I just felt that this dream was far too long today and terrifyingly real.
Meanwhile, Larry was sitting right next to me eating dumplings, moving slowly and methodically. He glanced up at me occasionally, his expression completely unruffled.
I knew he wasn't taking my breakup threat seriously at all.
In the five years we were together, I'd mentioned breaking up far too many times. Every time, it was spoken on a whim, and I'd always end up going back to him with red, puffy eyes.
He probably thought that this time was no different.
He just never expected that this utterly ordinary argument would end with us actually breaking up for good and not seeing each other again for three years.
In those three years, the only news I heard of Larry came from the media.
The law firm he'd launched was going from strength to strength, and his family's company was also running smoothly.
The heiress of the Sullivan Group was linked to him romantically, and the media called them a well-matched couple made in heaven.
I called him a selfish jerk countless times in my head, but I also had to admit that they really did look perfect together.
I finished packing in a huff, dragged my suitcase, and headed straight for the door.
I glanced up at the sky. It had been perfectly clear just minutes earlier, but now it was pitch-black with clouds, and rain was pouring down in sheets.
But in my memory, the day we broke up was clearly a sweltering, sunny day.
Then again, nothing makes sense in dreams anyway.
That was what I told myself as I stepped out of the apartment building entrance when a few cold raindrops smacked me right in the face.
That frigid jolt made me break out in goosebumps all over.
I stopped on the spot, reaching my hand out under the eave. The rain soaked my palm, so cold it stung to the bone.
It suddenly hit me—this was not a dream!
I had actually traveled back three years in time!
The rain intensified, coming down so hard I couldn't step out into it at all.
I waited under the awning downstairs for a full two hours, but Larry never came down to look for me, nor did he send me a single message.
Sure enough, he was still the same heartless bastard I remembered!
In the end, when the rain stopped, I picked up my suitcase and left without hesitation, checking into a small nearby hotel.
I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the spinning ceiling fan as I tried to get my head straight.
If I really had gone back to the past, what was I supposed to do...
A wave of exhaustion hit me, and I fell into a deep sleep to the sound of rain and the unfamiliar scent of the room.
When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was the familiar blue plaid curtain.
When I turned my head, Larry was standing right in front of me.
Still wearing that faded gray shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a clear edge of impatience creasing his brow.
He looked at me, his face dark as he spoke. "Quincy, can you have some self-respect? It's just getting fired from your waitressing job! Are you really going to let this setback make you give up on yourself?"
The familiarity of the scene made my jaw drop, but I was unable to make a single sound.
What? This must be some kind of sick joke.
- Writer
