Chapter 2

In my past life, Caleb Vaughn, my childhood best friend, suddenly announced he wanted to become a singer and move to L.A. to chase his dreams.

But before that, he had always said that staying together and attending the same college was his dream.

For him, I threw away my near-perfect SAT score and applied to Greenfield Community College, the same small school he chose.

But just two days before the acceptance letters arrived, he decided to leave for L.A.

That night, Mrs. Eleanor Vaughn and Mr. Daniel Vaughn showed up at our door, begging me to find their son.

I went. My parents, worried sick, followed and were killed in an accident.

When I finally dragged Caleb back, his parents blamed him for my parents' deaths and insisted he make amends by marrying me.

So, I forced Caleb into an engagement. The plan was to marry after graduation, but by sophomore year, I was pregnant and had to drop out.

The whirlwind of getting married, having a baby, and managing a household swallowed two years of my life. I was excited to return to school until Caleb’s parents fell ill and moved in with us.

Caleb told me to be understanding. His parents had sacrificed so much for his education; now they needed care. He, of course, would be the breadwinner.

I didn’t mention that his $1,500-a-month job barely covered formula and groceries. Eventually, I sold The Brooks Family Ranch to pay for his parents’ medical bills while raising two children.

All the while, Caleb was out spending his measly salary on music equipment and partying with friends, claiming it was for his “dream.”

When the burden of family life became unbearable, our arguments escalated. He accused me of being bitter and narrow-minded, blaming me for dragging him back from L.A. and ruining his shot at stardom.

He even accused me of weaponizing my parents’ deaths to trap him into marriage.

I hit back, calling him delusional for thinking his scratchy voice could ever make him a star.

When he brought up my parents again, I snapped and lunged at him, only for him to shove me away violently.

After that, Caleb started avoiding home altogether. His parents turned their frustrations on me, accusing me of being petty and difficult, conveniently forgetting how they had begged me to find their son.

I worked myself to the bone doing odd jobs to keep the family afloat. But the children I raised with such effort still gravitated toward their father, who barely lifted a finger for them.

I thought they’d understand one day, but that day never came. Even after they grew up and started their own families, they chose Caleb over me.

“Mom, you were always too controlling. We’re done listening to you.”

“Dad’s dreams were crushed because of you. He deserves another chance to go to L.A.”

“Grandma and Grandpa were right. You just wanted to control everyone’s lives. You’re selfish!”

Heartbroken, I went home only to find Caleb packing his bags with a smug grin, bragging about his “better future” now that he was leaving me behind.

After devoting over two decades to this family, all I got was a label of being selfish and controlling.

Why did Caleb get to walk away unscathed, hailed as the cool, understanding father?

I snapped and shoved him. He grabbed a vase and swung it at me, snarling, “You dare lay a hand on me? I’ll kill you!”

And that’s how we both died—mutual destruction.

As I lay on the ground bleeding out, my last prayer was simple: If there’s another life, please, don’t let me meet Caleb Vaughn again.