Chapter 2

"Hiroyuki, I'm making beef stew tonight, okay?"

"I'm looking forward to it! Put in lots of mushrooms, okay?"

"Got it. Have a good day."

Who would have thought that this would be the last conversation I would have with my husband?

At the office, he clutched his chest and collapsed, and was taken to the hospital. He never woke up again, having suffered a heart attack. He was only 31 years old.

Perhaps because I lost my father to illness at a young age, I always sought a father-like sense of security in men. I felt that a large build meant a sense of protection and reliability, and I always fell for tall, large men.

Many of my friends liked skinny men, like idols and handsome actors, and they often teased me, asking, "Why do you like such chubby guys?" But I was incredibly weak for men with a soft, cuddly build.

Yuzuki, a senior at my company whom I met when I was 23, was 183 cm tall and weighed around 90 kg. He had played rugby, so he was more muscular than fat. At 153 cm, I found him towering over me.

After dating for three years, we got married. Over the next two years, he gained nearly 20 kg.

The reason was simple. After becoming a full-time housewife, I wanted to cook delicious meals for Yuzuki, so I attended cooking classes and learned many recipes from my mother.

I always felt happy when my beloved Yuzuki enjoyed his meals. Even if he ate three cups of rice in one meal,

"I always end up eating too much because it's so delicious," he would pat his stomach and laugh. I was thrilled to be able to provide him with such delicious meals. His body was soft and comfortable to touch. His considerate, easygoing personality matched his appearance, and he was my ideal husband.

However, after a while, my mother told me,

"Yukako, it's good to win a husband's heart through his stomach, but gaining weight too quickly is bad for his health. You should consider Yuzuki's health and reduce the calorie content of the meals."

I realized that I needed to keep him healthy, so I started to calculate the calories in the meals I prepared. After a month, Yuzuki was happy to have lost 2 kg.

But the following week, he was gone.

My ego, wanting to feed him delicious meals, had hastened his death.

I got married at 26 and became a widow at 28. I had unknowingly led my beloved husband up the steps to death.

I couldn't see any reason to live in a world without him.

But I remembered my teacher saying that suicide would send me to hell, and I wouldn't be able to join my husband in heaven. I had to make my death look like an accident.

However, even with the intention to die, neither perverts nor drunk drivers seemed to approach me. I never encountered any dangerous situations. Even after six months of being forced to eat by my mother, my body remained healthy, and there were no signs of illness.

(Maybe I should start working again and increase my opportunities to go out.)

I was wrong to think that I could easily encounter accidents or incidents just by going shopping in the neighborhood.

I started looking at job listings and attending interviews enthusiastically. My mother was happy to see that I had regained the will to live, but she never imagined that I was doing it to increase my chances of dying.

I was hired as an office worker at a small interior design company, a 30-minute train ride from home and a 10-minute walk from a station near the city center.

The company, run by a young president named Kuroda, who was in his 40s, and two veteran employees in their 60s, was a cozy and comfortable place to work.

Kuroda's wife had died of breast cancer two years ago, and he lived with his 6-year-old daughter. He felt a personal connection to my story during the interview and consoled me, saying,

"Young people can die easily too, you know."

Even after working there for two years and often staying late, I never got the chance to die.

Over time, I started going out to play with Kuroda and his daughter more often, and the daughter became very attached to me. She said that the way I patted her head reminded her of her deceased mother.

"Would you like to live together instead of living alone?"

He proposed to me after I had been working there for three years.

By then, I had become more emotionally stable and started to think that my husband's death might not have been entirely my fault. He also had a part in it for not controlling himself. I was less inclined to actively seek death, which might have been due to spending more time with Kuroda and his daughter.

I began to consider the possibility of remarrying seriously.

Just as this idea started to take shape, I was making dinner at Kuroda's house, and we all went shopping at the supermarket. Sana, the daughter, was in a good mood.

"What are you going to make, Aunt Yuka? I love gratin!"

"Really? How about shrimp gratin?"

"Really? Yay!"

Sana, skipping and urging me to hurry, wasn't looking ahead.

"Be careful and watch where you're going—"

As I tried to warn her, I saw a car coming around the corner at high speed, with a woman on her phone at the wheel.

Without hesitation, I ran to Sana and pushed her towards Kuroda. I saw Kuroda and Sana's wide eyes for a moment before the car hit me, sending me flying several meters and crashing into a brick wall.

As I lost consciousness, I thought, I'm definitely going to die. I hoped that Kuroda and Sana wouldn't be traumatized by this. I also thought, God is so cruel. He didn't let me die when I wanted to, but now that I don't want to die, he gives me the chance so easily.

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"…!"

I sat up abruptly.

– The scene I just saw was something I had experienced before.

Before being reborn as Celia Arc.

I don't understand why I, a Japanese person, was reborn as a foreigner, but that was a memory from my past life.

"Hiroyuki… Kuroda… Sana… Mom…"

As I whispered their names, tears flowed uncontrollably.