She Named My First
In my previous life, during my birthday party, my wife Ruby’s so‑called best friend, Hayden, walked up to me with a glass of wine and a smirk.
“Ruby had a little too much to drink last night,” he said. “I helped her shower. Hope you do not mind.”
I lost my temper on the spot, and I demanded a divorce.
I left with nothing because I wanted to get away from the two of them as quickly as possible.
In the end, I died alone in a rented apartment. No one came to see me, not even once.
After my death, Ruby’s company went public without any trouble. Her wedding with Hayden became the talk of the city.
Everyone called them a perfect match. When they mentioned me, there was only ever one line: "That man just had bad luck. He was never meant for anything better."
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my birthday party.
Hayden walked up to me once more and repeated the exact same words.
This time, I did not get angry. I smiled.
I reached for Yara, my closest friend, who had come with me, and slipped my arm through hers in an intimate gesture.
Under Ruby and Hayden's stunned gazes, Yara blinked innocently at Ruby, whose face had gone pale.
"Ruby, don't be jealous. Jeff and I grew up together."
She paused just long enough, then added with a faint smile,
"After all, I was the one who taught him his first time."