I Stopped Saving the Second Lead

“Ding. Target capture failed. Host will remain in this world until natural death.” Tristan pulled me close, face etched with sorrow. “Hazel, don’t let this destroy you. We can have another baby.” This was a fiction. Back in reality, my mother lay in a hospital bed, terminally ill, buried under crushing medical debt. Just as I lost hope, the System pulled me here. The deal was clear: win the heart of the tragic second lead, save him from the female lead’s torment, and keep him alive. Success meant a fortune and a ticket home—my mother could live. Failure meant being trapped here forever. This was my fourth attempt to save Tristan. Each of the three times before, he fell desperately in love with Valerie, the woman who tortured him and ruined his family. This time, fate repeated itself. He fell for her again. Rushing to her side, he left our child alone—and our son died. Hearing his empty comfort, I stared blankly at his chest. “There will never be another baby.” “Ding. Extreme emotional spike detected. Please—wait, stop! You’ve killed him three times already!” Before the mechanical voice finished, the hunting knife in my hand drove deep into his heart. If I could never go home, my mother would die. Then he would die too. 1 A few feet away stood the tiny hospital bed. Our beautiful boy lay there, eyes closed, looking as if he were simply taking a nap. I wanted to walk toward him, but my feet were nailed to the floor. It felt as though weights were shackled to my ankles. My face was drained of all color, my breath hitched in my throat, and my trembling hand reached out into the empty air. “Hazel, I am so sorry. Valerie twisted her ankle out of nowhere. She was crying, saying she needed to get to the ER right away. Finn was having so much fun in the sandbox. I had no choice. I thought it would be fine to just let him play for a few minutes.” “But… I don't know how it happened. When I got back, the police were there. They said he chased a ball into the middle of the street and a car…” “He didn't even make it to the hospital.” The words spilled from Tristan’s mouth. I opened my own, trying to scream, trying to wail, but the silence in my throat was absolute. “Finn… my little Finn…” I had been reborn four times. I did not love Tristan. In fact, the very sight of him made my stomach churn with hatred. But I was forced to play this twisted game of romance. Finn was a miracle we had through IVF. From the moment he took his first breath, I was his entire world. He was my only anchor, my sole emotional refuge in this bleak, artificial reality. And then, on a random Tuesday, Tristan said he wanted to take his son to the park for some bonding time. Now, my son was a corpse. I had foolishly believed a child could tether his wandering soul. What a naive, pathetic delusion. A million needles pierced my heart simultaneously, shredding the organ into bloody ribbons. This was my fourth attempt at saving Tristan, and the longest I had ever survived in a timeline. Yet, he still could not escape his pathetic obsession with the female lead. In my past lives, I had snatched him from the jaws of Valerie’s cruelty more times than I could count. When she and her goons cornered him to shatter his hands, I leaped out of the shadows and called the cops, preserving his future. When she pushed him onto the subway tracks, I tore my own muscles apart dragging him back onto the platform. When she orchestrated a hostile takeover that ruined his family and threw him behind bars, I worked myself to the bone, calling in every favor under the sun to get him out. But Tristan was a glutton for punishment. In every single lifetime, he crawled back to his abuser, kissing the hand that struck him, and discarding me like garbage in the process. Fortunately, whenever the System declared my mission a failure, I made sure to take Tristan down with me. If I couldn't go back to my mother, he didn't deserve to breathe. The haze in my eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened resolve. I fixed my gaze on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. I had already butchered him three times. A fourth wouldn't hurt. 2 I trailed my fingers gently over his suit jacket, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. Gripping his shoulder, I lowered my voice into a chilling whisper. “You left our baby alone on a park bench just because Valerie called.” A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Hazel, you cannot blame Valerie for this. It was my decision to go to her. She is completely innocent in this tragedy. How was I supposed to know a toddler would run into traffic?” His tone was soft, but the underlying thread of impatience was unmistakable. “If anyone is to blame, it is you. You coddled him too much. You should have taught him not to run off.” Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and stinging. He was blaming me. He was blaming a two-year-old boy for acting like a toddler. I tilted my head up, my eyes glacial. “Excuse me?” He looked away, unable to meet my stare. “Look, I know what this is about. You are just paranoid that I am going to leave you for Valerie.” “Rest assured, Valerie and I are never going to happen. I only went to her because she was injured and needed help.” “If we were meant to be together, it would have happened years ago. Stop being so irrationally jealous. Let us just arrange the funeral for Finn, take some time to heal, and try for another baby. We just need to move on.” Move on. As if my son were a spilled cup of coffee. The truth was, I could not care less who he loved. In my eyes, he could love Valerie, he could love a lamppost, he could be madly in love with a stray dog for all I cared. All I ever wanted was to complete the damn mission, get my payout, and save my dying mother. Hearing his delusional rant, I let out a heavy breath. The words "Mission Failed" were currently flashing in neon red across my vision. I was so incredibly exhausted. I had to start the cycle all over again. “It is okay,” I murmured. “It will all be over soon. Just endure it for a second.” I spoke softly, just loud enough for the words to brush against his ear. “What?” he asked, confused. I did not bother explaining. In a fraction of a second, my hand slipped into my purse and withdrew the hunting knife. It was a blade I had purchased on the very first day of this fourth timeline. I always kept it close. The moment the System announced my failure was the moment Tristan met his maker. I refused to rot in this dimension until I was old and gray. My mother was waiting for me. If the mission was busted, then Tristan had to bleed so the clock could reset. “Ding! Host, please calm down! Your heart rate is off the charts. Stop! You have stabbed him three times already! Don't do it! Please…” The System’s robotic pleas fell on deaf ears. I drove the steel blade straight through Tristan’s ribcage. A guttural shriek tore from his throat. Crimson blood erupted from the wound, a warm mist spraying across my cheeks and eyelashes. Tristan stared down in sheer disbelief at the handle protruding from his chest. He stumbled backward, his lips parting as dark blood bubbled up from his throat. “Hazel… you…” He tried to turn and run, but I stepped right into his shadow, refusing to let him escape. I grabbed the handle and twisted, shoving the blade deeper into his flesh. A twisted smile curled on my lips. “You pathetic excuse for a man. You deserve every ounce of this. I regret ever saving you. I should have let Valerie grind your bones to dust. Go to hell, Tristan. Your parents are waiting for you down there. I am sure they would love to ask their dear son why he fell in love with their murderer.” In this lifetime, Valerie had caused the horrific multi-car pileup that left Tristan’s parents dead. Yet, Tristan had marched into the police station, signed a forgiveness waiver, and pulled every string he had to keep her out of prison. Tristan’s eyes bulged with pure terror. “No… please… don't kill me. I…” Before he could finish begging, I put all my body weight into the knife, burying it to the hilt. I ripped it out. I plunged it back in. The pristine hospital floor was transformed into a macabre painting of spilled wine. Finally, his knees buckled. He collapsed into the growing puddle of his own blood, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the fluorescent lights. I dropped the knife, gasping for air, and slumped against the wall, utterly drained. “Why do you keep doing this?” the System sighed. “Killing him does not solve the mission. Now we have to trigger the reset.” I scoffed, wiping a smear of blood from my cheek. “If I don't kill him, I am stuck living out the next sixty years in this hellhole without a dime to save my mom. I would rather watch him bleed.” 3 The air around me shimmered and twisted, accompanied by the System’s digitized sigh. Welcome to the fifth rebirth. Since Tristan was so thoroughly addicted to his own suffering, I decided I was done playing the savior. When I opened my eyes, the damp, familiar scent of mold hit me. I turned my head. At the mouth of a graffiti-covered alley, Valerie and a group of her grunge-clad sorority sisters were backing Tristan into a corner. Valerie had bombed her SATs and failed to get into a decent college. Tristan, on the other hand, had passed with flying colors and enrolled in an Ivy League university. Unable to stand his success, Valerie followed him to campus, bringing her reign of terror to his dorm steps. The spawn point for this rebirth was identical to the last timeline. With a blank expression, I watched Valerie kick Tristan in the stomach. He crumpled against the brick wall. She sneered, flicking her cigarette ash onto his designer shirt. “I told you, Tristan. You don't get to walk away from me. You owe me your life.” “We grew up on the same street. Why did my family go bankrupt while the Blackwoods are still living in luxury? It makes me sick.” “My parents are gone. Our legacy is gone. I have nothing left. You owe me for the rest of your miserable existence.” They were childhood neighbors, growing up side by side. But after the Vanderbilt family lost their fortune, Valerie’s mind warped. She convinced herself that Tristan needed to suffer exactly as she had. Tristan remained silent, though he glared up at her with a look of stubborn defiance. I used to look at that rebellious glint in his eyes and think it was his bruised ego. Now, knowing what I know, I realized he was just sick in the head. He thrived on the humiliation. He enjoyed the pain she inflicted. The memory of the third timeline burned brightly in my mind. Tristan had insisted on driving Valerie to the airport during a storm. I was in the passenger seat when a truck T-boned us. I lay trapped in the crushed metal, my legs pinned, blood pouring into my eyes, screaming his name. He completely ignored me, frantically tearing at the backseat door to get to Valerie. His words still echoed in my nightmares. “Hazel, hold on! I have to get Valerie out first! She is bleeding, she might be in shock!” I had watched him carry her out of the wreckage to the safety of the sidewalk, leaving me behind as the engine sparked. Valerie stood there, watching the flames engulf my side of the car, a manic grin on her face. She mouthed the words, "Serves you right." She hated me for constantly intervening. She wanted to break him, and I kept fixing him. My focus snapped back to the damp alleyway. Valerie gave a subtle nod to one of her lackeys, who promptly handed her a heavy aluminum baseball bat. Crack! Crack! Crack! The sickening sound of metal hitting bone echoed off the brick walls. Tristan was forced to his hands and knees, violently coughing up blood. He lifted his bruised face. “Are you done yet?” Valerie let out a cruel, melodic laugh. “Not even close. You walk around with too much swagger. I think it is time we took one of your arms out of commission.” “Everyone says my soul is crippled. Let us make your body match, shall we?” “Then we will truly be equals.” A flicker of genuine panic crossed Tristan’s eyes, but it vanished in a heartbeat. He truly did not believe she would go through with it. He refused to accept the depth of her malice. I had asked him once, in a past life, “Why do you still love her after she almost sent you to the morgue?” He had rolled his eyes, utterly annoyed. “You don't understand our bond. Valerie would never actually cross the line. She would never kill me. Honestly, if you had not meddled, things would have worked themselves out.” “Stop acting like you are some holy savior. I never asked for your help. You forced your way into my business, so don't expect me to bow down in gratitude.”