Chapter 1

On our wedding anniversary, my wife slit her wrists in the bathtub, dying by suicide for her late first love.

When I opened her old diary, I was pulled back in time—to when Cecelia was only sixteen.

Her so-called unforgettable first love was currently trying to sweet-talk her into tattooing his name on her arm.

Rage flared in my chest. I yanked Cecelia behind me and snarled, "Back off, you little punk!"

Cecelia suffered from severe depression. She had completely lost interest in everything.

Today was our wedding anniversary. Out of nowhere, she actually asked for an anniversary cake.

I was so excited that I rubbed my hands together, agreed instantly, and ran out to pick one up.

Yet when I returned with a bouquet of roses and a pretty little cake, all I found was Cecelia lying motionless in a freezing bathtub, her body submerged in crimson water.

The cake slipped from my hands, smashing into a ruined mess on the floor—just like this cursed anniversary.

I had always known she had a dead first love, and that his passing had plunged her into deep depression.

Once, I came home from work and found her numbly slicing at her own skin with a paring knife. That was the first time I ever lost my temper with her.

"Cecelia, what are you doing? Cole is dead! Is it worth hurting yourself over someone who's already gone?"

Cecelia helplessly dropped the knife, tears streaming down her face. "Julian, I'm sorry... I don't know why. I just can't stop myself."

I let out a shaky sigh, pulled her into my arms, and gently wiped away her icy tears. "Don't be scared. You're just sick. I'll take you to a doctor. We'll get through this together."

Cecelia said yes. But in the end, she broke her promise.

While sorting through her belongings, I noticed an old pink princess diary fitted with a tiny copper padlock no bigger than a thumb.

Her parents had adored her. Back when their family was doing well, they had bought her the trendiest lockable diary on the market.

Right then, the copper lock snapped open on its own. Pages fluttered wildly without any breeze, spinning faster and faster before slamming down on a single entry.

[April 16, 2013]

[My sixteenth year feels like a suffocating, endless downpour. Cold and damp all year round.]

Before I could read any further, a blinding flash of white light sucked me straight into the diary.

A distant, ethereal voice echoed in my ears: "Child, save Cecelia..."

When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting in a noisy high school cafeteria.

I was wearing the varsity jacket of Oakridge High—Cecelia's high school.

I caught my reflection in a clean tray. This was completely my own sixteen-year-old body!

"Hey, Cecelia Vance! Your dad just fell to his death on that construction site, and your crippled mom's already turning tricks for cash! Heard you're the one who empties her dirty washcloths after every client, haha!"

"Like mother, like daughter. You keep hanging around Cole asking about homework—what, are you looking to start taking clients too?"

Students around the cafeteria set down their forks, craning their necks to watch the drama, snickering with cold mockery.

Her deepest wound was being dragged out and paraded in broad daylight. Sixteen-year-old Cecelia flushed crimson, her fingers trembling slightly. Yet she forced herself to endure it, silently chewing her food.

Seeing that she was being ignored, the girl sneered, "Deaf bitch!" and shoved her loaded tray straight into Cecelia.

Cecelia couldn't dodge in time. Grease and soup splashed all over her jacket.

A boy with messy, dyed hair instantly slammed his own tray upside down onto the bully's head. Covered in dripping gravy, the girl shrieked bloody murder.

"Cole, you're attacking a classmate over a slut?!" a chubby kid yelled indignantly.

The punk called Cole tossed his shaggy hair, grabbed a glass soda bottle, and hurled it at the chubby kid. Shards exploded across the floor, and the kid clutched his bleeding forehead in terror.

"I beat anyone who runs their filthy mouth! Keep talking crap about Cecelia Vance, and I'll break every single one of your faces!"

So, this was Cecelia's untouchable first love? A loudmouthed teenage delinquent? And she killed herself for "this" guy?

Sure, he stood up for her. But handling things in such an unhinged, violent way—did he really think it wouldn't ruin her life?