This Time, I Won't Love You Again Novel
In my last life, my husband fell for a college girl.
I went crazy with jealousy. I tried everything to break them apart.
But I lost.
He destroyed my family... just to divorce me and marry her.
I couldn't accept it.
So I jumped off a building.
And he?
He looked at my body— with disgust.
"Couldn't you die somewhere else? You're ruining my view."
...
When I opened my eyes again, I was back— One month before he fell for her.
So this time, I went to where she worked. Watched her life like a stalker.
I needed to know—
What kind of girl... stole the man I loved for ten years.
In my last life, I never even met her.
All I had was a name... and a few photos.
I lost everything.
And my rival?
She never even showed her face.
--
The streets in Ardovelle were busy—cars and crowds everywhere.
I'd been sitting in a corner of a café called Déjà Vu for two hours already, facing the counter.
A young woman in a sky-blue apron was busy making drinks.
She was around 1.6 meters, probably less than forty-five kilos. Fair skin, always had a smile on her face. Her thick, dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and when she smiled, her eyes turned into crescent shapes that lit up the whole room.
“Ma’am, would you like a refill?”
She walked over with a bright smile.
How awkward. I’d been so lost staring at her that I completely zoned out. Good thing I was a woman, or someone might’ve thought I was some kind of creep.
“Sure. Still black,” I smiled politely, my voice giving nothing away.
Soon, she set another bitter black coffee on the table in front of me. But instead of leaving right away, she hesitated for a second before getting a little nosy.
“Ma’am, you’ve already had two cups of black coffee. I know it helps keep you awake, but drinking too much isn’t good for you. Maybe... you could save the next one for another time?”
She was kind and outgoing, her voice crisp and brisk, like wind chimes—pleasant to the ear.
I glanced at the black coffee, then stood up, purse in hand.
“Okay. Check, please.”
She beamed like she was glad I’d taken her advice.
I paid without a word and left the café quickly.
“Mrs. Crowe.”
The driver, Parker Ellis, respectfully nodded at me and opened the car door.
“Home.”
The car pulled off smoothly. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, but my mind kept drifting back to the young woman at the café.
That was Lydia Fairburn.
The woman Preston Crowe was so set on divorcing me for one year from now, even though it meant burning every bridge with his family.
I hadn’t expected the first thing I did after being reborn was to go to her workplace and watch her like some kind of creep.
It was just... I was curious.
I wanted to know what kind of woman took away the man I’d loved for ten years.
In my past life, I never even met her. Preston kept her so protected, like she was the most precious thing in the world. All I had was a name and a few photos.
I lost everything, and my opponent never had to show her face.
Young, beautiful, innocent, kind, cheerful...
All those nice words fit her perfectly.
Her only flaw was her humble background, which created a huge gap between her status and Preston’s.
Just then, Parker broke the silence.
“Mrs. Crowe, today is your and Mr. Crowe’s anniversary.”
I opened my eyes, feeling dazed for a second.
Come to think of it, it had been five years since I married Preston.
Every anniversary, I’d get busy all day, preparing a candlelit dinner and a gift for him.
I was twenty-seven this year, and he was twenty-nine.
“I know.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling my head throb a little. “You don’t have to remind me.”
Parker probably said that because he’d sensed something off about me this year.
But why was I always the one putting in the effort?
Why did I have to love Preston?
I’d thought about this before dying in my past life.
For Preston, I ended up dying a tragic death, my family destroyed.
While I was lost in thought, Parker pulled up outside the villa Preston and I shared.
To my surprise, I saw Preston’s car.
He was home.
My feelings were complicated.
Now I’d come back from the dead, what kind of expression was I supposed to put on when I saw the person who caused my downfall?
I thought I’d hate Preston.
After all, for another woman, he’d cornered me—his wife of five years.
He’d even driven my parents to their deaths, even though they’d treated him like their own son.
He practically wiped out my whole family.
But now that I was actually seeing him, the hatred wasn’t as strong as I’d expected.
What was left was mostly just acceptance.
In my past life, Preston gave me a chance.
He said we could end the marriage peacefully, and to make it up to me, he’d give me some shares of the Crowe Group—enough to set me up for life.
But I refused.
I was so bitter.
After ten years, I still couldn’t make him love me even a little, yet another woman spent only one year making him fall head over heels.
How was I supposed to accept it?
So I tried everything to win him back.
But step by step, it escalated—from a rift, to a standoff, to a point where only one of us could walk away alive.
This time, none of that had happened yet.
Instead of wasting my energy hating him, I’d rather change the fate that left me a tragedy.
“Why are you standing there?”
Preston sat on the sofa in the living room, his long legs casually crossed. The cigarette between his fingers had burned down. He stubbed it out in the ashtray with practiced ease, then glanced up at me with the same indifference he always had.
The day we married, he told me bluntly that we were at most roommates, that our marriage was basically a partnership, that he felt nothing toward me.
“Nothing. Just surprised to see you home.”
I bent down to change into slippers.
They were Hermès, elephant gray, simple design, understated color.
Comfortable—probably the only thing they had going for them.
Then Lydia in the blue apron popped back into my mind.
Right—there was a little red flower smiley face pinned to her apron.
None of the other staff had that.
Then I thought about my clothes—all expensive and dull.
Simple as always.
Boring as always.
Suddenly, I found those slippers repulsive.
I kicked them off and walked into the living room barefoot.
Preston noticed. He frowned slightly, a hint of surprise flickering across his eyes.
“You’re not wearing your slippers?”
“No. Don’t feel like it.”
I answered flatly, sitting down across from him.
“That’s rare. Who got under your skin?”
He actually chuckled, and his tone was light—both were probably a first.
I wanted to say, “Your future soulmate,” but I held back.
Instead, I looked down at my pale feet.
Because I was so thin, they looked a little bony.
Lydia was different.
She was thin, too, but her skin was firm and healthy.
Me?
I was practically skin and bones.
Five years of a lonely marriage had done a number on me.
I had no appetite, so I kept losing weight, and now I looked like a skeleton.
“Preston,” I said.
“Yeah?”
He was on his phone, not bothering to look up.
My gaze lifted from my feet to him, my voice a little hoarse.
“I want a divorce.”
He scoffed.
Tossing his phone onto the sofa, he looked at me, his gaze familiar—cold and indifferent.
“What are you playing at this time, Bianca?”
“I mean it.”
I sat up straight and met Preston’s intense gaze without flinching.
“It’s been five years. You’re not going to fall for me anyway. Let’s just cut each other some slack.”
In a month, there’d be a big business conference in Ardovelle.
Preston would meet Lydia there.
It would be love at first sight for him, and he’d stop at nothing to get her.
What an epic love story.
No way I was sticking around to be the disposable side character.
In my past life, I did everything I wanted to do, could do, and should do.
And I saw how it ended.
This time, I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself or drag my family into the abyss again.
I decided to step away before Preston met Lydia.
I decided to remove myself from the picture before their rocky journey even began.