My Husband Chose Another Woman in Our Second Life / Chapter 7: Rewriting the Script
My Husband Chose Another Woman in Our Second Life

My Husband Chose Another Woman in Our Second Life

Author: Megan James


Chapter 7: Rewriting the Script

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While eating in the dining hall, I see the news about the casting of "Spring Song."

After Matthew Carter chose his former student Julia Harper as the new lead, the internet explodes, with countless people gossiping about their real relationship.

A flood of shipper fans appears:

[So exciting, older teacher-student romance!]

[Handsome guy, beautiful girl, classic "mentor and ingenue" pairing, I’m obsessed.]

[I just love this forbidden vibe—can’t stop, so just let it be!]

I stare at these comments, my heart clenched tight as if in a vise.

"Natalie, what’s wrong? You look so pale," Aubrey, sitting across from me, asks with concern.

The clatter of trays and the greasy, comforting smell of fries fill the air. Someone’s blasting pop music from their phone nearby.

"It’s nothing... I’m just a little tired."

Aubrey looks even more worried.

She is my best friend. In my last life, she made her name acting in TV dramas, then switched to producing in middle age and became a successful producer.

She’s always been like this—clear about what she wants. But since coming back to life, I’ve only felt more and more confused...

"Is it because of the audition?"

"Ugh, I know you admire Director Carter’s films and really like him. But we’re only sophomores—it’s normal not to get a part after just one audition."

I lower my head, poking at my mac and cheese with my fork, silent. The cheese is rubbery, but I can’t taste a thing. My appetite’s gone with the storm.

Aubrey sighs.

"Don’t be sad. I just got invited to a few streaming series. Want to give them a try? They’re not as good as movies, but it’s still a chance."

"I’ll think about it," I say softly, but my mind is in turmoil.

Scenes from my past life replay in my mind like a movie.

Details I once overlooked are now painfully clear.

I remember: in my last life, I only noticed Julia after Matthew and I went public with our relationship. Julia was Matthew’s student and my peer, and the teacher-student dynamic always made things complicated.

Julia blocked us backstage at a press conference.

"She’s only a year older than me—why can she, but I can’t?"

Matthew was silent for a long time.

"It’s not an age problem... I’m the teacher, you’re the student."

His tone was weary in a way I’d never heard before.

Julia’s tears fell instantly.

She turned and ran off, her back as fragile as a fallen leaf.

Later, Julia acted in many shows, but never became famous.

I heard she got involved with a studio executive, and was later exposed as the other woman.

After a storm of public criticism, she committed suicide.

When the news broke, Matthew locked himself in his study and sat there for a long time, staring into space.

I thought he was just sad about losing a student.

After that, every year on Julia’s death anniversary, he would visit her grave.

I accompanied him for two or three years, until one year I had to attend a film festival overseas. I told him apologetically I couldn’t make it that time.

Matthew said, "You’re so cold."

I was stunned. I barely knew Julia—accompanying him for two years was already more than enough.

Why did Matthew say that to me, for her?

But I thought, well, he makes art films—maybe being sensitive is normal.

Later, Matthew apologized, we made up, and he never asked me to go to the cemetery again.

So I never thought much about Julia after that.

But now, I finally understand.

In Matthew’s heart, there was always a place for Julia. Now, given a second chance, he just wants to make up for his regrets.

He will never let go of Julia again.

Buzz.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates. It’s a text from an unfamiliar number:

[Miss Natalie Rivers, we found your audition very impressive. Would you be willing to play the second female lead in "Spring Song"?]

Second female lead?

The dining hall's overhead lights flicker. The hum of students and the smell of coffee, fried food, and rain-soaked grass swirl around me. I stare at the message, heart hammering, realizing this new life has handed me a script I never imagined—and I have no idea what my next line should be. But for the first time, I’m not just playing a part. This time, I get to rewrite the script.

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