"What on earth is Julian thinking? Today is his wedding day with Evelyn! It's well past noon—why hasn't he come for the bride?" Mrs. Ward paced the cramped living room, muttering curses under her breath.

"Don't get so worked up. This... isn't Evelyn's fault."

Mr. Ward, however, was more measured. Julian's family had always looked down on Evelyn. Could this delay be deliberate—a way to put her in her place from the start?

Mrs. Ward’s voice rose sharply. "How is it not her fault? If she weren't so useless, would Julian treat her with such disrespect? She can humiliate herself all she wants, but now she’s dragging our entire family through the mud!"

Evelyn opened her eyes to the sound of arguing outside. The room around her felt both familiar and strange—cramped, worn, and painfully known.

For Evelyn, remembering was not a gentle thing. As the memories sharpened, regret and sorrow washed over her in waves.

And then it dawned on her—she had died, and yet she had not. She had returned to the turning point of her life.

It was July 3, 1975. Her wedding day.

But Seraphina had suffered a heart attack, and Julian, ever the devoted friend, had stayed at the hospital to care for her. He saved his loyalty for Seraphina, leaving only mockery and shame for Evelyn.

In her past life, she had waited stubbornly for Julian to come for her. He never did—not even by nightfall.

His parents had never approved of her, and no one from his family had stepped in to save face. No stand-in groom, no gesture of respect.

What bride went to her groom’s home alone?

Back then, obedient to a fault, Evelyn had yielded to Mrs. Ward’s pressure. Carrying her only dowry—a single quilt—she walked to Julian’s house in the dark.

That journey led her straight into Seraphina’s trap, and to everything that followed.

Now, Evelyn studied her reflection in the mirror: dressed in a crisp green army uniform, a red ceremonial flower pinned to her chest. With a sharp tug, she ripped the flower away. Her eyes, usually warm, turned dark and cold.

Heaven had given her a second chance. Clenching her jaw, Evelyn swore silently: This time, debts will be paid. Lives will be answered for. No one escapes.

Just then, the door swung open. Mrs. Ward stormed in, followed closely by Mr. Ward.

After pacifying the restless guests outside, Mrs. Ward’s anger had nowhere to go but toward Evelyn.

As usual, she reached out to pinch her—a petty, practiced cruelty. “You’ve humiliated the Ward name today!”

Evelyn slapped her hand away, resisting the urge to scratch her face. “Did I humiliate us?” she retorted coldly. “Was it I who told Julian’s family not to come? Was it I who made them look down on us?”

Mrs. Ward stared, stunned, the sting on her hand barely registering. She had never seen Evelyn react like this.

“You dare hit back? If you weren’t so incompetent, Julian would never treat you this way!” Mrs. Ward raised her hand again.

This time, Evelyn caught her wrist and shoved it aside. “He disrespects this family because his father runs the meat-packing plant, and his mother is vice-chair of the shoe factory union. And you? You have no job. And Father?” She glanced at Mr. Ward. “He’s just a workshop supervisor.”

Mrs. Ward’s face contorted in disbelief. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

Has this little wretch lost her mind?

In her past life, Mrs. Ward had blamed every slight from Julian’s family on Evelyn—her failure to please a man, her failure to lift the Wards’ status. Now, Evelyn struck first, her voice clear and cutting:

“If you were more capable, would Julian’s family look down on me this way? At school, my marks were better than his. At the factory, I was cited as an exemplary worker. And look at me—fair skin, pretty face, long legs. The only thing I lack is parents like his. In every other way, I am better than Julian .”

Mr. Ward had always taken pride in his position. Now, hearing his own daughter dismiss it, he burned with shame—and a rising, helpless fury.

Because he couldn’t argue. Stripped of his family’s status, Julian was inferior to Evelyn.

Mrs. Ward could not accept this rebellion from the girl who had always been so obedient. “If you were half as accomplished as Seraphina, would Julian’s family dare do this? They look down on you because you’re not good enough!”

Evelyn let out a derisive laugh, leaning into the cruelty. “Seraphina? Compared to me? A woman who can’t even bear children—you think Julian’s parents would let her marry him? Have you lost your mind?”

Mrs. Ward choked back furious words, her eyes locked on Evelyn.

There the girl stood, in her fresh green uniform, skin like jade, strikingly beautiful—a mirror of that fox-eyed mother of hers.

Evelyn noted the venom in Mrs. Ward’s gaze, unmistakable and toxic.

Is this how a mother looks at her own daughter? she thought bitterly. And yet I was blind to it before.

“Seraphina has always been so kind to you, and you speak of her like this behind her back? Is this how I raised you? You ungrateful, ill-bred viper!”

Mrs. Ward snatched a clothes hanger and swung it at Evelyn.

Mr. Ward watched darkly, making no move to stop her. Evelyn had always been docile, more obedient than the family dog. These sharp, defiant words were new—and in his mind, such rebellion deserved to be beaten back into place.

But Evelyn was not so easy to corner now. She caught the hanger mid-air, took a deep breath, and shouted:

“Help! She’s trying to kill me! My mother wants me dead because I called off the wedding!”

Mr. Ward’s face darkened. “Shut your mouth! What nonsense are you spouting?”

Mrs. Ward lunged to cover Evelyn’s mouth, her eyes blazing. “Evelyn! Have you gone mad? Do you truly not want this marriage?”

Evelyn met her gaze, unflinching. “After the disrespect Julian’s family has shown us, why should the marriage go on?”

In her past life, Mrs. Ward had often threatened to cancel the wedding, to forbid her from marrying—frightening Evelyn into kneeling, apologizing, swallowing every humiliation.

No one had ever stopped to ask: Who was the one most wronged?