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The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 556    |    Released on: 30/06/2025

l silent, their eyes wide with shock. A few passersby stopped to stare. T

the direction Olivia and Daniel had gone. "Walking around wit

cle. Ethan felt a surge of irritation. This was exactly the kind of drama h

Ethan said, his

're talking abou

kers to hear clearly. "There's nothing between Olivia Hayes and me. We are n

anged confused glances. Kevin looked at him, his mouth agape. Ethan

an,

and come back. Daniel stood awkwardly a few fee

t's not true. Daniel and I are just friends." She was trying to clear the air,

r explanations, all her justifications. He remembered the sixty years of "just friends," the

our life is your own. You don't need to explain anything to me." He wasn't accusing her, he was dism

ting late." She took Daniel's arm again, a protective gesture that Ethan had seen a thousand times in his past life. She was always shielding Daniel from any unpleasantn

s he had let wither in the shadow of his unhappy marriage. He was applying for a prestigious overseas study program in London, a program in performing arts. It was his d

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The Art of Starting Over
The Art of Starting Over
“At eighty, I lay dying in a sterile hospital room, a life I felt was utterly wasted flashing before my eyes. My wife of sixty years, Olivia Hayes, sat beside me, her stoic composure a familiar mask. Then, her whispered confession shattered everything: "Tell Daniel... I've always loved him." Daniel, her colleague from decades ago. Sixty years of quiet resentment, of being a placeholder, a fool. Rage burned in my dying body-a useless, consuming fire. Then, darkness. Light. Soft blankets. My young mother' s beaming face. It was 1987. I was a baby again, but the memories of my eighty-year life, and Olivia's betrayal, were searing. "Mom," I squeaked, my infant voice unwavering, "I won't marry Olivia Hayes." Years later, at eighteen, the name Olivia was a constant dread. Our families had an arranged engagement, a relic I had accepted in my past life. This time, it was a prison sentence. I saw her with Daniel Lee at the community center, laughing the unguarded laugh I rarely saw in our marriage, her caring gestures confirming the truth. She approached me, that familiar stoic calm in place, perhaps to touch my arm. I stepped back, a deliberate movement. "Are you avoiding me?" she asked, her tone flat. I met her gaze directly. "We should keep our distance, Olivia. It's better for everyone." I walked away. My past life, a suffocating nightmare. This life would be different. This life was for me. I would be free.”