Her Third Death

Percival stayed there for three days before heading back. The villa that had been burnt down was now fully renovated. The fire had completely destroyed the first floor, but the second floor was relatively intact, with important things still in place. He went upstairs to the bedroom he once shared with Eulalia.

He casually rummaged through the drawers. Everything was still in its original spot. The clothes in the wardrobe, the skincare products on the vanity, even the jewelry in the jewelry box—all untouched, like nothing had changed. He opened a safe and pulled out a few envelopes. These were the promises he had written during Eulalia’s amnesia.

“I, Percival, solemnly swear not to be a jealous husband. I won’t get irrationally jealous or sour at any time. I will give my wife freedom, respect her, cherish her, believe in her, and love her forever. I, Percival, vow to be generous, magnanimous, and gracious. If I break this promise, I am no better than an animal.”

Percival clutched the e