Chapter 3
Fiona
"Helen, Maxwell wants to see you." I gripped my phone, trying to keep my voice steady. "He has something to tell you."
Helen's excited voice came through the phone: "Really? I thought he was still mad at me..."
"Tonight at seven, Willamette Valley Overlook." I forced myself to continue. "Remember to wear that white dress—he loves that one."
"Fiona, you're amazing! I knew you'd help us!"
After hanging up, I slumped in my car.
Every word felt like a knife slicing my throat.
At dusk, I arrived at the overlook early. The sun was setting, casting golden light across the river—heartbreakingly romantic.
I carefully arranged everything—champagne, white roses, candles.
I was staging the perfect romantic scene—only to walk away and leave it for another woman.
At exactly seven o'clock, Maxwell appeared on time. He wore the navy suit I'd suggested, carrying 19 white roses.
I hid in the trees a hundred yards away, my heart pounding.
"Helen..." Maxwell's voice drifted on the evening breeze.
"Maxwell!" Helen ran to him, her white dress flowing like a fairy tale princess.
I bit my lip, watching them embrace.
How many nights had I fallen asleep imagining this exact moment, only with me in Helen's place?
"I think we need a fresh start." Maxwell said to Helen, but his eyes...
Something caught my attention—Maxwell's gaze was scanning the area, as if searching for something.
"I knew you still loved me!" Helen hugged him tightly.
But Maxwell's eyes kept searching, finally looking toward where I was hiding!
A chill ran through me. He shouldn't be looking for me. He should only have eyes for Helen right now.
My heart nearly burst from my chest. I forced myself to turn and leave, stumbling away.
Three days later, Reed Estate living room
"What kind of dates does Helen like?" Maxwell sat on the couch asking me.
I took a deep breath: "She likes romance. French restaurants, candlelit dinners—remember to make reservations."
"What about gifts?"
"White roses, exactly 19, they symbolize anticipation." Each suggestion was like a knife to my heart.
Maxwell looked at me confused: "How do you know her so well?"
I forced a smile: "Girls think alike, you know."
The truth was far more pathetic—I'd spent years studying Helen's preferences, hoping to understand what made you love her instead of me.
"Take her to Chateau Restaurant tonight—I already booked the window table." I continued, "Remember to pull out her chair, compliment her dress, and..."
"Fiona." Maxwell suddenly interrupted me.
"What?"
He stared at me for a long moment: "Why are you helping me like this?"
My heart clenched as I avoided his gaze: "Because... because I want you both to be happy."
Because watching you happy from a distance hurts less than watching you miserable up close.
The next afternoon, estate garden
"Fiona!" Helen ran toward me excitedly. "Last night's date was perfect!"
She grabbed my hands tightly: "You're such a good sister—we never could have gotten back together without you!"
I smiled painfully: "I just want you both to be happy."
"But..." Helen bit her lip thoughtfully, "Maxwell's been acting kind of strange lately."
My heart skipped: "Strange how?"
"He seems distracted on our dates, and sometimes he asks about you." Helen said puzzledly. "He asks how you're doing, if you're seeing anyone..."
My heart stuttered in my chest.
"And last night at dinner, he kept looking toward the entrance like he was waiting for someone." Helen frowned. "You don't think he's interested in another girl, do you?"
My world completely turned upside down in that moment.
Could Maxwell actually be thinking about me? No, that was impossible.
"Fiona? Are you okay? You look so pale." Helen looked at me with concern.
I forced myself to breathe. "It's nothing. Just didn't sleep well."
But beneath my calm exterior, my pulse thundered in my ears.
"I hope I'm just being paranoid." Helen sighed. "Fiona, what do you think I should do if Maxwell really has fallen for someone else?"
Looking into her clear eyes, my former pain and jealousy suddenly became complicated.
"Then... then it depends on what he really wants in his heart." I said softly. "Love can't be forced, right?"
Helen nodded, but a flash of wariness crossed her eyes.
That look in her eyes—she was connecting dots I desperately needed to keep separate.
That night, in my bedroom, I lay in bed, Helen's words echoing in my mind.
I turned Helen's words over and over. Maxwell distracted. Maxwell asking about me. Maxwell watching the door as if waiting for someone else to arrive.
These details pieced together like a puzzle in my mind, forming a possibility I didn't dare believe.
Had my rebirth altered more than just that one night? Had it somehow changed Maxwell too?
Seven years ago that night, I prevented the tragedy from happening. I took the initiative to help him get back together with Helen. My attitude, my changes...
Was it possible that by stepping back, I'd finally stepped into his line of sight?
I covered my face, my emotions in complete turmoil.
On one hand, a voice deep inside was celebrating: The possibility that he might actually see me—truly see me—sent dangerous hope spiraling through my chest.
On the other hand, logic reminded me: You made your choice. Playing matchmaker means you don't get to change your mind halfway through the game.
The shrill ring of my phone cut through my thoughts.
Caller ID: Maxwell.
I hesitated for a long time before answering.
"Hello?"
"Fiona, it's Helen's birthday tomorrow. What do you think I should get her?"
Another question about Helen. I should be happy their relationship was progressing, but why did I feel this inexplicable disappointment?
"Get... get her that diamond necklace she's always wanted." I said. "It's on the Tiffany website—I'll send you the link."
"Okay." Maxwell paused. "Fiona?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you... doing alright lately?"
The question caught me off guard.
His tone carried something I hadn't heard before—was that genuine concern?
"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, it's just that you seem... different."
Different? Of course I was different. Rebirth had shown me everything, made me decide to let go. But I couldn't tell him any of that.
"Maybe I'm just growing up." I said softly. "People change."
"Yeah." He was quiet for another moment. "Well, get some rest."
"Okay, good night."
After hanging up, I stared at the ceiling, my mind in chaos.
What game were you playing, Maxwell? And why now, when I'd finally found the strength to let you go?
Every path forward seemed to lead toward more heartbreak—either his or mine.
In the silence of this night, I suddenly realized that my rebirth hadn't just changed that tragic night—it might be quietly changing everything between us.
The time for honesty had passed. I'd set this play in motion, and now I had to see it through to its bitter end.
Some sacrifices can't be unmade. Even as hope flickered to life inside me, I knew I had to extinguish it before it burned us all.
