After Digging Up the Time Capsule, I Disappeared

After leaving behind my childhood sweetheart who had cheated on me, I met my destined one, Ryan Cooper.

He cherished me, holding me in the palm of his hand, and even after eight years of marriage, he never changed.

Until the day of our eighth wedding anniversary, when Ryan died in a car accident on his way to see me.

Later, I dug up a time capsule Ryan had buried before our marriage. Inside, there was only a diary, every page filled with his words about me.

I traded my life to return to his past, to accompany him again.

As I wished, I returned to Ryan’s eighteen-year-old self, becoming his childhood friend.

But the condition was that I could never leave Ryan.

Yet, he was hopelessly in love with a girl who looked almost exactly like me.

Whether at eighteen or twenty-eight, Ryan’s love had always belonged to her.

Watching him carefully prepare a confession, I made my decision.

“I want to leave him.”

“Think carefully. If you choose to leave, you’ll vanish from both worlds completely. In seven days, you’ll cease to exist.”

Ryan’s call pulled me out of my hesitation.

“Claire, which college are you applying to? Will it be far from me?”

His concerned voice always reminded me of the twenty-eight-year-old him.

“I’m not sure yet. Do you… want me to stay close to you?”

Ryan thought for a moment before replying.

“Of course. If you’re too far away, who’s going to help me chase after Emily?”

His words hit me like a bucket of cold water, soaking me through.

My smile froze.

“Ryan, if I were to leave—”

Before I could finish, Ryan cut me off.

“Claire, Emily’s calling me. I’ll hang up first. See you at the graduation party tonight.”

The call ended, and I was used to it by now.

I had spent over six years in this world with Ryan, yet almost every time, his first choice was always Emily Carter.

At twenty-eight, I could never understand how someone could remain so devoted in marriage, love unchanged after eight years.

Now I realized—it was because he had once met someone truly dazzling in his youth.

And unfortunately, I had merely become her substitute, nothing more.

Scrolling through Ryan’s social media posts, those hidden from Emily’s view:

“Seems like I’ve fallen a little more in love again.”

“Emily, even though you can’t see this, I still want to say—I really like you.”

“Emily, I’ll grow up faster, so I can give you a home.”

Those words reminded me of the twenty-eight-year-old Ryan.

Every morning, he used to tell me: “I think I love you more than I did yesterday.”

Each post, each word, was like a knife driven into my chest.

Then, Ryan sent me a message:

“Claire, I’m heading out with the driver to pick up Emily. You know how she hates crowded places. So, you’ll have to head to the party venue on your own later. Thanks, buddy.”

The smile tugging at my lips was uglier than tears.

My husband Ryan had never once broken his word. But this Ryan, the eighteen-year-old him, broke his promises to me as if it were routine.

“Okay.”

“Oh, and by the way, Emily’s on her period. If someone tries to get her to drink, you have to drink for her, otherwise she’ll feel awful.”

But I was allergic to alcohol. Ryan at eighteen had already forgotten.

Back in our freshman year of high school, Ryan had stolen a piece of liquor-filled chocolate from home.

That day, my allergy nearly killed me. Ryan sat at my hospital bedside, guilt written all over his face.

Later, I found out—it was meant for Emily, but she hadn’t wanted it.