The biting wind whipped through the city streets, a cruel mirror to Liana’s internal chill. Her reflection in the grimy restaurant window startled her – a gaunt figure, hair dull, eyes hollow, clothes a decade out of style. “Who would want to patronize my business if I had an ugly old waitress?” the manager’s dismissive words echoed in her mind. She was only twenty-five, but the past three years had etched lines of premature age onto her face. Each step was a drag, her worn shoes scuffing against the pavement, a soundtrack to her bitter thoughts.

A sleek Maybach glided to a halt behind her, its polished surface reflecting the bustling city lights. The restaurant manager, moments ago so disdainful, was now a portrait of obsequious deference, bowing deeply as Edward White and Betina emerged. Liana froze. The world tilted. Three years. Three years since their divorce, and here they were, him as immaculate and distant as ever, Betina clinging to his arm, radiating the same elegant poise that had always been her signature.

“Liana?” Edward’s voice, sharp with disbelief, cut through the din. Betina gasped, a feigned shock rippling across her features. “Oh my God, is it really you, Liana? What happened to you?” The words were a physical blow. Liana, mortified, turned to flee, muttering a desperate denial. “You’ve got the wrong person!”

She ran, propelled by shame and a desperate need to escape the stark comparison. Edward’s hand clamped onto her arm, his shout of “Liana, stop right there!” chilling her to the bone. She screamed, a raw, primal sound, struggling against his grip. “Let me go! I’m not Liana, I really am not!” In her frantic efforts to break free, she didn’t see it—the speeding car, a blur of metal and headlights. A sickening thud, a sharp crack, and then, mercifully, darkness.