Ethan Lin was a man of many things, vanity chief among them. He prided himself on his refined fashion sense, often declaring, “I’d rather be caught dead than dressed like a pauper.”
The irony of this vehement sentiment was lost on no one at his funeral.
Vanessa, his second wife, refused to spend a dollar more than necessary on the send-off of the once illustrious industrial tycoon. She chose to have him cremated in a cheap white polyester tunic with matching pants and a pair of flimsy sandals. At the funeral, the widow herself wore a figure-hugging black lace cocktail dress and a pair of 6-inch Christian Louboutin studded heels. A dark charcoal wide-rim picture hat sat atop of her crown, dipping at a precarious angle which shadowed half of her face. The impeccably dressed widow paid no heed to the whispers, sidelong glances, or tsk-tsks. Standing by the open casket, looking smug, defiant, and markedly dry-eyed, she insisted this outfit was exactly what Ethan wanted. “He had always talked about returning to his humble roots,” she said.
No one believed her, but they said nothing, not wishing to create a scene. Silent as they were, they kept stealing furtive glances at her and the two others beside her—Ethan’s son and a blond, tanned, handsome man, Vincent Huang.
Melanie
Melanie was Ethan’s first wife. Ten years ago, she walked out on him.
When she left, he felt more joy than remorse even though Melanie had once been his world.
They met in high school. Her wholesome smile and hourglass figure had earned her the title of homecoming queen for two years in a row. In the early days of their marriage, she worked two jobs while he attended graduate school. She coached him in public speaking and was the de-facto editor-in-chief of his first few business proposals, which helped him secure lucrative government contracts.
Melanie put off having children because Ethan wanted to wait until he made a six-figure income. When he finally did, she faced difficulties conceiving. She consulted fertility specialists, underwent rounds of IVF, and tried an assortment of alternative treatments. Five years later, she gained thirty pounds and hit early menopause. Unable to endure the emotional and physical pain any longer, she gave up her dream of motherhood.
By then, Ethan wanted children—badly. He wanted heirs to inherit his growing business empire. Although he never voiced his disappointments to her, he started seeing other women, a string of them.
Three months before Melanie left, they were getting ready for a charity gala. As Ethan put on a pair of cufflinks, he caught her reflection in the vanity mirror. The bright light shone on her face, scrunched up as she took a deep breath and yanked hard at a body shaper. The stubborn material barely budged, pooling around her midsection, with her once firm breasts drooping over it like two bean sacks. She caught him looking and gave a sheepish smile. “Honey, I’m almost done. Maybe another half hour? I did my makeup already, so I just need a light touch-up before we head out.”
Hearing that, he shifted his focus to her makeup. The foundation was a shade too light for her complexion and caked on her nose. It concealed some blemishes, but her dark circles and enlarged pores were beyond rescue. He cringed , letting his eyes drift to her hair, twisted into a French knot. “Okay, at least that’s somewhat presentable,” he thought.
“Take all the time you need. I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he forced out the words, then strode out of the room.
That was the last time he appeared publicly with her.
The night before she left him, he stumbled home drunk. She rushed over to help him off with his coat. He blindly pushed her away, knocking her off balance. Peering down at the wobbly heap, he hissed, “Get away from me, you fat pig!” Emboldened by the alcohol coursing through his veins, he added menacingly, “Do you want to know why I went out today? I’ll tell you why. I am going to become a father! Vanessa showed me the sonogram—it’s a boy!
“Why are you still here anyway? Have you no shame or self-respect? Let me spell it out for you—our marriage is O-V-E-R! Vanessa makes me happy. You make me sick!”
Melanie was gone the next day before he woke up. He never saw or heard from her again. He was exceedingly pleased that she demanded no alimony. How she planned to support herself was of no concern to him. With a child on the way, a beautiful new wife, and a no-contest divorce, he was the envy of his circle of friends.
Nancy
“Welcome, Mr. Lin.”
Ethan snapped his eyes open at the greeting, squinting at the speaker—a young woman in a gray blouse and black pleated skirt. Her ash brown wavy hair was styled in two loose braids, framing a bare, porcelain-colored face. Freckles scattered across the bridge of her pert nose, and she looked no older than twenty-five. In contrast to her youthful appearance were her hard, unflinching, and judging stares, which unnerved him. He quickly looked away, catching a glimpse of a name tag pinned to her chest.
“Err, Nancy, can I call you that? How did you know my name? And where am I?”
“Mr. Lin,” she replied in a modulated monotone, “You passed away a week ago. Your family just held the funeral and have you cremated. With the service now concluded, you’re ready to move on to the next journey. I’m here to assist with the transition.”
“Dead? What kind of sick joke is this?” Ethan shouted. “Do you know who I am? I’m the world’s 87th richest man, and how dare you talk to me in such a robotic tone! Who’s your manager? I want to speak to him!”
Nancy had been managing this hub for what felt like forever, encountering all sorts of unpleasant reactions. Ethan’s obnoxious outburst didn’t even warrant a blink. She leaned back, uninterested in interrupting his tirade. Spittle flying, he jabbed his fingers at her, bragging about his prestige and how world leaders never denied his calls. Energized by reciting his credentials, he jumped to his feet and began pacing the room. But when he passed a full-length mirror, he stopped cold in his tracks.
He extended his arms, glaring at the loose polyester sleeves and feeling a rash coming on. His eyes drifted to the matching pants and plastic sandals, which were one size too small, cutting deeply between his toes. The entire ensemble made him sick—no, appalled. “I’d rather be caught dead than dressed like a pauper,” he exclaimed. As soon as the words left his mouth, a wave of dread washed over him.
Nancy smiled and leaned forward. “I see we’re now on the same page, Mr. Lin.”
Ethan slumped back on the chair, eyes shut and limbs trembling. “This can’t be happening,” he mumbled. He recalled his last memory: being wheeled into an operating theater for a triple bypass surgery. “I had the best doctor on hand. He assured me it would be a straightforward surgery with a success rate of 98%. Ninety-eight percent!” he whimpered.
Taking a deep breath, he hardened his expression and shifted to a combative tone, “Fine, I’m dead. I can accept that. But what’s the meaning of this outfit? It’s abhorrent! Show me what you have, and I’ll style myself.”
Nancy cocked her head and, without missing a beat, switched on the screen beside her. Ethan spotted Vanessa immediately, standing by the open casket of a plain pine box, placed solemnly in the front of a chapel. His gaze landed on himself, dressed in the very garment he was now wearing. He couldn’t see the footwear, but it didn’t matter. “Son of a gun!” he cursed under his breath as he continued to survey the scene.
The room was packed to the brim, with people waiting for their turn to pay their final respects. Ethan didn’t bother scanning the crowd; his focus was on the trio by the casket—-Vanessa, his son, and Vincent Huang, a man he hadn’t seen for years. As he stared at them, fragments of gossip floated through the air, reaching his ears.
“Wow, Ethan, whose ruthlessness screwed so many, got screwed by his wife in such a public display. Justice for all!”
“Don’t quote me, but I heard Vanessa and Vincent hail from the same impoverished small town. Look at them now. She went from scrubbing decks to sipping champagne, and he went from being a boat captain to owning a shipping company. I bet she helped bankroll his business. How else would you explain his meteoric rise in just a few years?”
“That is one strikingly beautiful family up there, wouldn’t you agree? Ha ha ha. I wonder if Ethan ever noticed that his oh-so-precious son bears no resemblance to him.”
“Ethan should never have cast Melanie aside for a harlot like Vanessa. At least then, he’d have received a decent, respectful, and befitting funeral. Instead, what we have here is a complete shitshow! Do you remember how condescending and horrid he was with Melanie, browbeating her at every turn? The man was brilliant, but he was a top-notch turd!”
Bile surged up his esophagus like a runaway train. Hands clutching his throat, Ethan bent down and vomited all over. The mess pooled around his feet, filling the room with a stench. “Sorry,” Ethan said weakly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Nancy replied. With a snap of her fingers, the room returned to its spotless state, infused with a faint scent of lavender.
“Mr. Lin, now that we’re clear on who’s responsible for your wardrobe, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Without waiting for a response, she continued, “You’re here because you were neither good enough for Heaven nor bad enough for Hell. People in this middle layer get a shot at a do-over. I’m going to play a clip of one of your worst decisions, then transport you back in time.”
Holding up a vial, she added, “You will drink this before going back. This potion does two things. First, it will temporarily erase your memory of our encounter. Second, it will give you a chance to fix the mistake.
“If you manage to rectify the wrong, you could earn a spot being reborn into a life destined for happiness and success. However, failing to do so means seven rounds of reincarnation await you. You will not be reborn as a human until those cycles end, and even then, there’s no guarantee of the kind of person you’ll become.”
After pausing for a beat, Nancy delivered the final blow. “You may wonder what will happen if you refuse to participate. That is an option, of course, but it’ll be a one-way ticket to Hell.
“Shall I play the clip?”
Ethan stared at this young woman in front of him. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but he was too shocked to form a coherent thought. Feeling stupid, he snapped his mouth shut and nodded his acquiescence.
“Great. Let’s get started then,” Nancy said and turned on the screen.
***
Shouting for Melanie, Ethan staggered down the stairs and headed to the kitchen. He popped two Advil, drained a bottle of Perrier, and rummaged through the cabinets in search of a teapot. The clinking of dishes initially muted the sound of the doorbells. When he finally heard them, he stomped to the foyer and threw open the front door, ready to give whoever was there a piece of his mind. The expletives died in his throat when he saw Vanessa, his mistress, standing there in a zebra-print silk jumpsuit. Behind her, his chauffeur nodded at him with a timid smile.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed.
“Darling, sweetheart, relax! Melanie is gone!”
“What do you mean she’s gone? Did she say something to you?”
“Nothing, don’t be daft! Your neighbor, Sherry, saw a small truck parked outside at dawn. Suspicious, she questioned the driver, who said Melanie had hired him. Just then, Melanie opened the door, and Sherry saw packed moving boxes in the foyer,” Vanessa said gleefully. “Sherry said Melanie watched the man load up her stuff and drive away before hailing a cab. When Sherry tried to press her for more information, Melanie simply said, ‘I am Melanie Cheung. Please stop addressing me as Mrs. Lin.’”
Ethan stood there, at a loss for words. The hangover subsided and evaporated altogether. He dismissed the driver and followed Vanessa back to the living room. As he watched her excitedly check out her new digs, he grew skeptical and asked, “But how did you find out? I didn’t know you were acquainted with Sherry.”
Casting a flirtatious glance at him, Vanessa pouted, “What’s with you? I thought you’d be thrilled to see me here!” When he remained stoic and unyielding, she sighed and continued, “Fine, I’ll tell you. By pure coincidence, Sherry and I go to the same Pilates studio, and we’ve become fast friends. I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea—like I was deliberately befriending your neighbor to spy on you.”
Looking at him with her innocent doe-like eyes, she added quietly, “She texted me this morning. I rushed over to check on you. If you don’t want me here, just say the word, and I’ll leave.”
“Of course I want you here,” Ethan softened his stance and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
Releasing her, he said, “Why don’t you go and check out upstairs first to see what changes you’d like to make? I have some work to finish, but I promise it won’t take me long.”
Alone in the study, Ethan found a letter addressed to him in Melanie’s handwriting on his desk. He ripped it into pieces and threw them in the dustbin. Then he powered on his laptop, pulled up the draft of his prepared remarks for the company’s upcoming quarterly earnings release, and began rehearsing.
***
Click. The screen went blank.
“That was one of my worst decisions?”Ethan scoffed.
“You said you were fabulously rich and powerful. Now, for a man of your stature, wouldn’t you agree that your funeral was a total disgrace?” Nancy smirked, then continued, “And let’s not forget who’s standing up there in the chapel, looking very pleased with himself. What made you think not reading Melanie’s letter wasn’t a monumental mistake?
“Let me clearly define what you need to accomplish in your second attempt: read the letter, but don’t destroy it irrevocably. If you manage to do both, you’ll soon discover that Vanessa and Vincent have been in cahoots from the start, using you like parasites feeding off their host. Destroying the letter irrevocably means you’ll never uncover their plot before you die.
“Keeping Melanie’s letter, in short, will help you see through their web of deceit. Annihilating it is akin to ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Are we clear?”
At his nod, she handed him the potion. “Here you go,” she said solemnly. “Good luck.”
Ethan
Done with his preparation for the earnings release, Ethan turned off his laptop and stood up, eager to rejoin Vaneesa and feel his son growing inside her. However, as he took a few steps, he halted abruptly when his eyes landed on a small photo of him and Melanie on a side table.
In the photo, Melanie wore a simple yellow sundress, her hands wrapped around his waist, her head tilted back in a brilliant smile. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears of joy and pride. Dressed in his graduation getup, Ethan stared straight at the camera with a toothy grin, looking fit and ready to conquer the world.
Ethan turned to the dustbin. After a moment of hesitation, he fished out the torn pieces of Melanie’s letter. With a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he began the painstaking task of putting them back together.
Ten minutes later, he completed the jigsaw and took a deep breath before reading it:
***
Ethan,
We were once a happy couple, weren’t we? Now, don’t frown—there’s nothing wrong with reminiscing.
As the saying goes, “All good things must come to an end.” Indeed, it’s time for us to part ways.
I should have left long before. Last night, you taunted me for having no shame or self-respect. Those words were no harsher than what you had said before, but this time, they sank in and shook me awake.
Before I bid you a final farewell, I thought I should relay a story. You deserve to know.
Regarding the yacht mishap in the Mediterranean, our neighbor Sherry, who is apparently a confidant of Vanessa, once let slip that the captain—Vincent Huang, I believe—bribed the helicopter pilot to keep you stranded. Apparently, he knew about your open-sea phobia and exploited it to keep you on board for several days. He assigned Vanessa to look after you during that time, didn’t he?
You don’t have to believe me, but you should make inquiries. Take care, and goodbye.
Melanie
***
Eyes downcast, Ethan was flooded with memories of their times together. Her unwavering support had been the driving force behind his success. She had been his rock.
“What happened to us?”, he whispered.
An angry voice—his own—blasted in his head, “Duh, Ethan, it’s you! You betrayed her trust and treated her like shit. She’s the same sweet Melanie you married thirty-one years ago. She hasn’t changed, but you have. You pushed her away!”
Drumming his fingers on the desk, Ethan quietly contemplated Melanie’s allegations against Vanessa. “Was it a genuine warning, or was it out of jealousy?” he pondered. Minutes later, with his mind made up, he picked up the phone to call his secretary. “Howard, I need you to hire a privat…,” Ethan stopped abruptly when Vanessa sashayed into his study. Clearing his throat, he rushed, “Never mind,” and hung up.
Leaning back in his seat, he smiled broadly at her.
“I thought you said you’d come to find me. Have you been working this whole time?” Vanessa pouted as she approached his desk. Before Ethan had time to cover Melanie’s letter with a notepad, she spotted it and leaned in for a better look. After finishing reading it, her face turned crimson, and she shot him a sharp look.
Rubbing her hands over the small bulge of her stomach, she declared defiantly, “Go ahead and investigate. I was a crew member and worked for Vincent on several occasions, including the time I met you. If Vincent had any designs on you, he must have been playing a really long game, because I didn’t think you two met again. Melanie is just grasping at straws, trying to separate us. She’s crazy!
“Anyway, do as you see fit. I have nothing to hide,” she finished, her voice trembling. The bravado that had been present just moments ago had abandoned her. Hurt and sorrow descended upon her, and her eyes were red-rimmed, with tears ready to burst.
Ethan did not trust people easily, but Vanessa made a good point—he had not crossed paths with Vincent since he disembarked from that damned yacht. They barely spoke even while onboard! If Vincent wanted something from him, surely he would have approached him by now. What would his endgame have been if it was a setup?
The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Melanie was spewing nonsense.
Scooping up the pieces and tossing them into the fireplace, Ethan beamed at Vanessa. “See that? That’s how we deal with trash!
“So, what do you think of this house? Not bad, eh? Have you decided which room will be the nursery?”
Hugging him tightly, Vanessa said sweetly, “Come, let’s go find something to eat.” She patted her belly gently, adding. “I am eating for two now, you know.”
Fingers locked, they left the room as the scattered pieces were swallowed by the flames.
The Verdict
“Welcome back,” Nancy greeted him coldly, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Your unwavering love for Vanessa is most impressive.”
Red-faced, Ethan hung his head in defeat. “Please give me another chance,” he begged.
Nancy shook her head in disgust. “There’s only one chance, and you blew it. You were an ass in your last life, so it’s only fitting that you become one in your next seven incarnations. Perhaps you’ll learn some kindness and humility before you become human again. Goodbye!”
Nanoseconds later, a foal was born in a hilly village in northern India.