The War Ended, My Life Began

I gave Julian Marchetti thirty years of my life after the war ended.

I built his empire, raised his children, and held the family together behind the scenes.

But when he died, his will didn’t even mention my name.

Half his fortune went to our children. The other half went to Lydia Carter, the daughter of the man who’d saved his life in Normandy.

The same Lydia who’d stolen my identity.The same Lydia who’d built her entire life on the ruins of mine.

All he left me was a single note, scrawled in his familiar handwriting.

I loved you. We had thirty good years. But I owe Lydia. This is the least I can do.

I dropped dead of a heart attack right there in his study, clutching that pathetic piece of paper.

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn in 1945, when the war had just ended

This time I will not swallow my anger and suffer in silence; I will fight back. And I will take back every single thing that is rightfully mine.

I looked up and there he was.

Young Julian Marchetti, standing on my front porch in his army uniform, medals glinting in the sunlight.

"Elena," he said. "Lydia’s not feeling well. Can you cover her shift at the factory today?"

In my last life, I would have nodded. I would have smiled and said "of course, Julian" and spent twelve hours on my feet while Lydia rested.

Not this time.

"Her health isn’t my problem," I said, my voice perfectly calm.

I turned and walked back inside, leaving him staring at my back.

I could feel his confusion radiating through the door. But I didn’t care.

I walked straight down the block to the post office.

Johnny was behind the counter sorting mail, his usual cigarette dangling from his lip. I planted both hands on the counter and asked.

"Any mail for me?"

"Not yet, Elena."

I slid the tin of almond cookies I’d baked that morning across the counter.

"When my letter comes, no one gets it but me. You understand?"

Johnny blinked, taken aback by my intensity. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure thing, Elena. Your secret’s safe with me."

I stepped outside and there he was, leaning against the lamppost across the street, watching me. He’d followed me.

"What are you doing at the post office?" he demanded, pushing off the post and striding toward me.

I walked right past him.

"What I do is none of your business. Where's poor Lydia? I thought you'd be with her. If you have so much free time, you should spend it with her instead of hovering around me."

Julian’s face darkened. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Elena, how many times do I have to tell you? Lydia’s father died saving my life. I owe them everything. There’s nothing between us. I love you. You know that."

I had heard such words countless times.

In my last life, we had grown up side by side, and I was convinced that the foundation we had laid as children was unshakeable.

Even when Lydia insinuated herself between Julian and me, I chose to tolerate it blindly, waiting for him to settle his debt to her father.

But that debt took three decades to repay, and in the end, it literally killed me with sheer rage.

I turned to face him, really looked at him. The boy I’d loved since I was twelve, the man who’d destroyed me.

"Did I owe Mr. Carter a life?" I asked quietly. "Is that why I have to give up everything for his daughter? Save it, Julian. I don’t care who you end up with."

I walked away without looking back.

Behind me, I heard his army boots scrape against the sidewalk as he froze.

The gossip spread faster than wildfire through a small town.

Within two days, word got around that I had publicly humiliated Julian Marchetti.

Before Lydia showed up, Julian and I had been the picture-perfect couple, and we had never fought.

But after Lydia inserted herself between us, the dynamics shifted.

Even though she claimed they were just friends, nobody bought it.

Instead, she found herself isolated and friendless, while the whole town pitied me.

I ignored all of it. I was counting down the days until my letter arrived.

I should have known Lydia wouldn’t go down without a fight.

She found me in my backyard, hanging laundry on the line.

"Elena, we need to talk."

I leaned against the fence and watched her perform that little act: biting her lip, looking down at her shoes, pretending to be nervous. It was almost funny.

"Why didn’t you send Julian?" I asked. "He’s so good at paying your debts for you."

Her face flushed, but she recovered quickly. "Julian and I are just friends. Can you please tell everyone that? Tell them you were just being silly and jealous?"

When I didn’t answer, she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"You think he really loves you, Elena? Damn it! You're so naive! He's always loved me, can't you see that? He'll leave you sooner or later!"

I met her eyes. "If it means Julian Marchetti stays the hell away from me, that’s exactly what I want."

Something shifted in her expression. A cold, calculating smile tugged at her lips.

"Is that so?"

Before I could react, she threw herself at me.

I stepped aside instinctively.

She stumbled, her foot catching on a loose stone, and went tumbling down the stone steps into the garden.