This Life I Choose The Rebel

In our marriage, Callum and I spent thirty years slowly tearing each other apart.

Even when the earth shattered and we were trapped beneath the rubble, waiting for the dark to take us, his final words to me were laced with a bitter, lifelong poison: "If there’s a next life, get your degree and get out.

Don't waste your youth latching onto my family again." So, when I woke up and found myself back in our senior year of high school right before graduation, Callum didn't waste a single second.

He practically ran to Rosalie—the delicate class beauty—and poured his heart out to her.

He even threatened to end his own life to force his father, Richard, to agree to kick me out of the house the moment we finished our exams. I didn't cry.

I simply smiled, accepted the arrangement on Richard's behalf, and packed my bags to move into the school dorms.

Before I left, I looked Callum in the eye and offered him a polite, hollow thank you: "Thank you for the shelter these past few years. From now on, our paths diverge.

May we both find peace." He stood there, stunned, watching me slip past the front gates of the Osborn estate.

After that, I got into my dream university in Boston and accepted the pursuit of a senior classmate. Callum got engaged to his first love.

He stayed in Charleston; I left for the North.

But on the day I was set to leave forever, he rushed to the airport, fell to his knees, and begged me through tears to stay. 01 "Irene, sweetie," Richard stood in the doorway of my bedroom, his shoulders hunched, looking older than his years.

He couldn't quite meet my eyes. "The firm has been so demanding lately, and keeping track of both you and Callum... it’s a lot.

I have an old friend, a good man with a comfortable estate. Would you... would you be willing to stay with him for a while?" A flimsy, transparent excuse. We both knew it.

Richard and my father had served in the military together. My mother passed away when I was small, and when my father fell in the line of duty, Richard took me in out of pure pity.

In the ten years I had lived under his roof, we had never shared a moment this agonizingly awkward.

I forced a gentle, reassuring smile, behaving with the quiet obedience I had practiced for a decade. "Of course, Richard. You've taken such wonderful care of me for so long.

I'm practically an adult now, and I don't want to impose on anyone else. I’ll pack my things and move into the dorms tomorrow." Richard's eyes softened with guilt.

He sighed heavily, reaching out to pat my head. "It’s that damn boy of mine. I have a perfectly lovely girl right here, and he has to go ruin everything for..." I knew.

Lately, Callum's antics had been the talk of Charleston's high society.

The golden heir of the Osborn family had suddenly lost his mind over a quiet, sickly girl from a workingclass neighborhood.

He showered her with expensive gifts, jewelry, even his own savings. Richard had been furious.

He’d broken three leather belts over Callum's back and even locked him in his room for a week, but Callum had knelt on the hardwood floor, stubborn and unyielding, refusing to break.

He was utterly subservient to Rosalie.

Because of her fragile health, Callum had even abandoned his lifelong dream of architecture, deciding instead to study medicine—a field he had despised his entire life. "Irene, I know I'm failing you," Richard murmured, his voice cracking. "But he’s my only son.

He’s never begged me for anything in his life." I watched him quietly, gently patting his back to offer comfort. "It’s alright, Richard. Truly. I understand.

You’ve done more than enough for me." Callum didn't love me. I had learned that lesson across thirty agonizing years in our past life.

There was no need for him to apologize now. 02 In our previous life, Callum and I were married for thirty years.

We had no children, and to the outside world, we never seemed to fight. Everyone praised our marriage, calling us the picture of domestic bliss. But only I knew the truth.

Thirty years of sharing a bed, and I had never once occupied a corner of his heart. We never fought simply because he didn't care enough to argue.

Until the great Charleston earthquake. We were pinned beneath the collapsed concrete of our home, the air thick with dust, all hope of rescue fading into the dark.

It was then that Callum stripped away his polite, gentlemanly mask. "It’s because of you," he hissed, his voice raw with a hatred I had never heard before. "If it weren't for you, I would have never lost Rosalie." Rosalie, his untouchable phantom.

She was the love of his life, a girl who had died of a congenital heart condition in the sweet, blooming spring of her youth.

In those final moments under the rubble, Callum spat out the most vicious curses, blaming me for her death.

He said that if God had any mercy, in the next life, he would run far away from me, find Rosalie before her heart gave out, and make up for every regret.

Staring at his dustcaked face, I realized he was right. So, when the universe spun backward and gave me a second chance, I chose to let go.

The next morning, I packed my life into a single suitcase and hailed a cab, leaving behind the house I had called home for ten years.

A clean break. "What do you mean you and Callum are over?

And his dad kicked you out?!" Mag Harrington, my best friend, practically leaped out of her chair in the empty classroom. "That miserable bastard!

He had you, and he still spent all his time playing the loyal dog to Rosalie? And now his dad throws you out? Oh, hell no.

I'm going to castrate him." Mag grabbed a broom from the back of the classroom, her eyes blazing with protective fury.

I had to physically hold her back, coaxing her down with soft words. "It wasn't Richard's fault," I explained gently. "I chose to leave." Mag poked my forehead, her expression a mix of frustration and heartbreak. "Ten years, Irene.

Ten whole years. You let them sell you out and you're still counting their cash for them? You're going to drive me to an early grave!" I lowered my head, listening to her scold me.

It had been so long since I’d heard her voice like this. Mag was the heiress to the Harrington fortune. In our past life, after graduation, our paths split.

She took over her family's empire, while I buried myself in domestic life. She became a titan of industry; I became a ghost in the Osborn mansion.

I couldn't help her, and she couldn't save me. Slowly, we drifted apart.

Such a beautiful friendship, ruined by the slow erosion of time and a man who wasn't worth it. "Mag," I whispered, wrapping my arms around her sleeve. "If it’s meant to be mine, I won't have to fight for it.

If it isn't, fighting is useless." Mag let out a sharp scoff. "Maybe.

But I still want to break his nose." "Don't be angry," I murmured, leaning my head on her shoulder. "It’s not like Callum was my only option." Instantly, Mag stiffened. "Don't tell me you mean that rebel kid?

Absolutely not! I refuse!" She glared at me suspiciously. "Irene, Holden Beck is trouble. Pure, unfiltered trouble.

When he isn't street racing, he's picking fights or skipping class.

Don't you dare ruin your life for him!" "My Irene is the best girl in the world," Mag said, her expression softening into fierce loyalty. "If worst comes to worst, I'll support you.

Let the men rot." I felt tears prick my eyes, deeply moved by her devotion. But, Mag... the boy you call a rebel... Was the only one who died trying to save me.

In those terrifying seconds when the world tore itself apart, when Callum let go of my hand and ran for his own life, I saw Holden.

Amidst the choking dust and falling concrete, he was running against the screaming crowd, stumbling, throwing his body forward just to reach me.

The raw, desperate terror in his eyes was louder than the crumbling earth. 03 I was determined to find Holden, just as Callum was determined to chase Rosalie.

The school gossip mill, which had already labeled Callum insane, quickly added me to the roster. The wealthy kids of Charleston called us the "lunatic pair" behind our backs.

They grouped my name with Callum's again, and the association made me sick. Callum must have heard the rumors.

One afternoon, after a heavy summer rain, he cornered me in the school library, dragging me out into the damp courtyard before I could even protest.

He didn't even wait for me to speak before he unleashed his fury. "Irene, have you lost your mind?!" He knew I had returned to this life, too, but he couldn't comprehend my choices. "Rosalie and I are meant to be.

We're childhood sweethearts. But Holden Beck? He’s nothing but trash!

How could you look at him?!" Raindrops clung to the fresh green leaves, and the courtyard was wrapped in a heavy, wet mist, like a watercolor painting left out to dry.

I looked up at Callum. I had to admit, he was handsome—sharp jawline, dark eyes, the kind of classic, effortless beauty that had made me love him so blindly in my youth.

But looking at the water dripping from his lashes now, all I could see was the dusty, gray silhouette from my nightmares.

The deafening roar of the earthquake, his vicious curses, and the sheer disgust in his eyes when he flung my hand away to run... those memories were sharper than the disaster itself.

The damp wind brushed my cheek, and I realized I was clenching my fists so hard my nails were cutting into my palms.

In truth, Callum had been a decent husband by societal standards. The Osborns were prominent, and he ran the family business flawlessly. He was always polite, always respectful.

That was why everyone thought we were happy. But he had never loved me. Not for a single second. I knew what his eyes looked like when he actually loved someone.

Thirty years of marriage, thirty years of a beautifully rehearsed lie, only for the truth to shatter him in the end.

The ugliness of his true heart was burned into my soul. "Irene!" His sharp, impatient voice broke my thoughts.

He hated when I drifted away. "Why shouldn't I?" I asked, my voice flat. "What?" "If you can choose Rosalie, why can't I choose Holden?

Is there a rule that only you get to pursue your happily ever after?" "Irene, Rosalie and Holden are completely different." "How? At least Holden tried to save me.

While you left me to die." I laid the truth bare between us, a cold, mocking smile on my lips. Callum stiffened, the color draining from his face.

For a long time, he couldn't speak. He lowered his head, his posture suddenly defensive, almost fragile. "We were married for thirty years, Irene.

I'm trying to look out for you, truly." "Anyone else would be fine. Just not Holden.

He’s not a good man." He sounded so earnest, so desperate to keep me from ruin. "Callum, we've both been given a second chance.

Stop acting," I said, my voice dead of emotion. "There was never any love between us, and you know it. Drop the hypocrisy." "Irene!" he snapped, frustrated by my coldness.

It was a mirror of our past life, only the roles were reversed.

Back then, I was the hysterical wife driven mad by his indifference, and he was the cool, detached husband watching my descent.

The trauma of thirty years had carved itself deep into both of us, but in different ways. "Can we please just talk?" he pleaded, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper.

I saw a figure running toward us in the distance and let out a quiet sigh. "I have all the time in the world, Callum. But I don't think your girl does." "Mr.

Osborn!" Callum’s driver ran up, panting heavily. "Miss Rosalie is having chest pains. She’s calling for you. You need to come quickly." See?

Even now, he didn't have a spare moment for me. Hearing the news, Callum's face instantly twisted with panic. He looked back at me, silently begging me to understand. And I did.

After thirty years, how could I not? If a person’s heart doesn't belong to you, no amount of begging will ever change that. In our past life, I had been the one begging.

This time, I turned my back and walked away first. 04 The weeks leading up to graduation flew by.

Pyramids of textbooks slowly shrank under the morning light and evening shadows, and the red marks on my practice exams became a map of my future.

And just like that, the grand curtain fell on our high school years. "Which college are you applying to?

Maybe we can end up at the same school," Mag said, setting down her iced coffee, her eyes bright with hope.

I felt a sudden pang of guilt. "I'm going to Boston." "Boston?!" Mag's voice pitched into a screech, exactly as I had expected. Her eyes widened. "Why Boston?

Is Charleston not big enough for you? Sure, Callum is here, but so am I!

You don't know a soul in Boston!" As she started her usual lecture, I quickly stuffed a pastry into her mouth to silence her. "Holden is in Boston," I whispered. "Wait, what?" Mag swallowed hard, practically leaping out of her seat. "I wondered why I hadn't seen that rebel around lately.

He went back to Boston?" I nodded. "I'm going to find him." "Irene, you absolute romantic idiot!" Mag groaned, taking a long sip of her coffee to calm her nerves before launching into a detailed lecture on the dangers of moving across the country for a boy. "But Mag, I don't have any family left in Charleston anyway," I said softly, smiling.

It was the simple truth. Mag couldn't stay by my side forever; she had her own empire to build. I had learned that in our previous life. Mag went quiet.

I thought I had convinced her. But on the morning of my flight, as I dragged my suitcase through the airport terminal, a familiar figure appeared.

It was Mag, holding a ticket of her own. "If I can't keep you here, then I'm coming with you," she said, tossing her hair back with her signature bravado. "What’s so great about Boston anyway?

I might as well conquer their market too." The tears I had been holding back finally spilled over. "I'm not worth all this, Mag." "You are," she said softly, wiping a tear from my cheek. "You're worth everything, Irene." I threw my arms around her, holding onto her like a lifeline.

Waiting at the gate, we sipped our iced coffees, and Mag didn't waste a single opportunity to curse Callum. "You're leaving the state, and he didn't even have the decency to come say goodbye.

What an absolute prick." "Didn't he get engaged to Rosalie the second finals ended?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood. "He's probably playing the doting fiancé right now." "Ugh, pathetic!" Mag spat.

I took a sip of my coffee, listening to the hum of the terminal and my best friend's familiar rants, and closed my eyes in pure contentment.

Compared to the wreckage of my past life, this felt like a real beginning. I looked down at my boarding pass.

It was almost time to board. 05 In truth, my chest was tight with nerves. It had been three months since my rebirth, and I hadn't actually seen Holden yet.

My only memory of him from our adult years was from a highprofile science and tech gala in our past life.

I remembered the crystal chandeliers of the ballroom casting a sharp, brilliant light over the elite crowd.

I had been holding a champagne glass, watching him glide through the room.

Holden had been tall, striking, with a quiet authority behind his wirerimmed glasses—a brilliant young mind in the tech sector, highly sought after.

And I had been nothing but Callum's trophy wife, a hollow shell, drifting past like a ghost in the shadows. But I had recognized him instantly.

I remembered how, years ago in a narrow Charleston alleyway, he had looked up at me with a crooked smile, his eyes reflecting the brilliant summer sun.

On graduation day, he had pressed a love letter into my hand, his face flushed red. And I had held it like a dry, dirty leaf, too proud, too blind to see the gold in front of me.

Now, we truly belonged to different worlds.

The last time I saw him was under the crushing weight of the earth, his body shielding mine as the ceiling fell, tying our fates together in death.

The terminal was loud, and a sudden wave of doubt hit me. Would he love me in this life the way he had before? What was he like right now?

Was he still the rebellious street kid, or had he already begun to carry the weight of his brilliant future?

Why had a top student from a prestigious Boston university been wasting his days in the alleys of Charleston? Was it really because of me? My heart hammered against my ribs.

I reached out and squeezed Mag's hand. Was this second chance really mine to take? The intercom announced our boarding group.

I pushed the doubts down and stood up, pulling Mag toward the gate. Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise of the terminal.

Mag spun around first, immediately stepping in front of me like a shield. That was when I saw him. Callum. He looked a mess.

His expensive designer suit was wrinkled from running, and his hair was wildly disheveled. "Irene! Irene, please don't go!

I was wrong... please don't leave me!" Before the entire gate, he dropped to his knees, begging like a desperate man.

Mag let out a disgustfilled sneer and kicked his hands away, but Callum didn't care.

He crawled forward, grabbing the hem of my pants, his dark eyes—usually so cold and arrogant—swimming with shattered tears. "Irene, please... I made a mistake. Just stay.

Please." To be honest, even when Rosalie died in our past life, he hadn't cried this desperately.

Mag looked like she was about to smash her carryon over his head, but I caught her arm. Callum’s eyes lit up with a fragile hope.

He scrambled closer, looking up at me with raw desperation. "Irene, stay with me. I’ll marry you.

I’ll give you everything." I stared down at him, and a cold, sudden laugh escaped my lips. He looked exactly like he did when he proposed to me in our past life.

Kneeling on the floor, promising me a lifetime of happiness. 06 What was our marriage really like, anyway?

Was it a cold arrangement under the same roof, separated by an invisible wall, or a carefully choreographed dance of polite strangers?

We had grown up together, and after college, marriage had seemed like the natural next step. On our wedding day, Rosalie had attended to offer her blessings.

But just as we were exchanging rings, her heart failed. She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. After that, Callum's warmth toward me froze completely.

I knew he blamed me. But what had I done wrong? Rosalie had always been quiet, but she had a singular passion for red roses.

Every summer, she would travel to the fields just to watch the endless scarlet blooms burn under the sun.

In an old, faded photograph Callum kept, she was surrounded by a sea of red, her smile brighter than the flowers themselves. She was beautiful, tragically so.

Later, Callum spent a fortune building a massive glass conservatory at our estate, moving an entire rose garden indoors.

Every summer, the brilliant red would climb the glass walls, a burning reminder that stung my eyes.

He would stand among the shadows of the roses, searching for a smile that would never bloom for him again. Our relationship only began to shift after Richard passed away.

No matter how cold Callum was, Richard had loved me like a daughter. On the day of his funeral, I collapsed into Callum's arms, weeping.

Later, someone told me that Callum had carried me all the way back to the car, refusing to let go. Like the most devoted husband in the world.

With his father gone, Callum threw himself into the business. He had no time to tend to the glass greenhouse, and slowly, the red roses withered.

I had foolishly believed that time would heal us, that he would eventually learn to love me.

I lived in that delusion until the night he came home drunk, stumbled into the decaying greenhouse, and wept over the dead roses until dawn. I watched him the entire night.

It was then I realized that Callum's heart was a locked room, and I would never have the key. Not then, not now, not ever.

Even dead for twenty years, Rosalie was a queen on a throne I could never touch. And now, the real Rosalie was alive. They were engaged.

They were a hair's breadth away from the life he had always dreamed of. I couldn't understand why he was here, begging at my feet.

His dying words from our past life still echoed in my ears. "Callum..." I bent down, meeting his frantic gaze. "You were the one who told me that because of me, you lost the only woman you ever loved.

So tell me, what are you doing here?" Callum shook his head, tears smearing his face.

His endless apologies only filled me with exhaustion. "Was one lifetime of mutual misery not enough for you?" He clutched at my jeans, but I pried his fingers loose, one by one. "We’re going to miss our flight, Mag.

Let’s go." I turned my back on him, just as he had turned his back on me so many years ago.

Some bonds are meant to be broken. "Callum, if you truly want to make amends, leave me alone. We were never meant to walk the same path."