Rewrite the Script My Stolen Forever

I transmigrated into a high school romance novel as the devoted second male lead. At eighteen, my memories completely awakened. The girl I had grown up with since childhood turned out to be the female lead. Back then, to be with me, she had fought tooth and nail against the invisible chains of the plot, resisting the script with everything she had. Yet six years into our marriage, she cheated on me with the male lead. "Why, Vivian... why?" My voice shook uncontrollably as I looked at her, choking back a sob. Once, she was the girl who would cry her eyes out with worry if I so much as got caught in the rain. Now, she simply looked away, cool and indifferent. "Ethan, I'm carrying his baby." Staring at the stack of sickening photos spread across the table, I still couldn't bring myself to believe it. The woman I had been married to for six years had actually had an affair. "You're back." Hearing the familiar click of a key turning in the deadbolt, I didn't even turn around. I knew it was her. Her footsteps drew closer. I hadn't bothered hiding the photos on the table; they were sprawled out in plain sight. "So, you know?" She didn't seem panicked at all. Cool, calm, and collected—nothing like someone caught cheating. My fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, as I searched the face I had known for twenty-eight years. I was desperately trying to find a shred of evidence that she still loved me, some flicker of remorse or guilt. But... Nothing. There was only cold, dead calm. She stood there in a tailored mermaid dress, porcelain skin, painted lips, looking just as breathtaking as she always had. Time might spare a beautiful face, but over the years, it can completely warp a person's soul. A faint, bitter smile touched my lips as I noticed the smudge of lipstick at the corner of her mouth. It looked like a brand left behind by a rough, passionate kiss. She had always cared deeply about her looks. She knew how to present herself flawlessly, and after winning Best Actress, she guarded her public image like gold. There was no way she didn't realize her lipstick was smeared. She had left it on purpose. No matter how hard I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, a choked sob broke through. "Why, Vivian... why?" Looking into those once-beloved eyes, I felt like I was looking at a total stranger. Our wedding vows still seemed to echo in the room, yet she was the first to tear them apart. Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and uncontrollable. Once, she was the girl who would break down crying if I just caught a cold in the rain. Now, she merely averted her eyes, detached. "Ethan, I'm carrying his baby." Her hand gently rested over her stomach. When she thought of him, her features softened, and a tender smile graced her face. It was the exact same smile the seventeen-year-old Vivian used to give me. The tenderness that had once belonged entirely to me. I hadn't been born with my past memories. Before I turned seventeen, I had no clue that the world I lived in was just the plot of a trashy romance novel I had read in another life. A melodramatic story where the original male and female leads break up, only to reunite years later. And I was just the extra—the unlucky childhood friend destined to lose to the charismatic newcomer, doomed forever to be the tragic second lead. So even though we grew up side by side, even though Vivian confessed her feelings to me countless times, before seventeen I had only treated her like the sweet little sister next door. And after awakening my memories at seventeen, I kept her strictly at arm's length. I warned myself over and over: do not fall for her. You cannot love her. The male lead and the female lead end up together. That's the golden rule of the genre. Anyone who dares defy that rule meets a terrible end. In all the web novels I had ever read, the pathetic second male leads either got crushed and impoverished by the male lead, drove themselves crazy pining for a love they could never have, or vanished abroad, never to be heard from again... Every single one of them ended in misery. I didn't want that life.So, starting on my seventeenth birthday when I remembered everything, I made a conscious effort to pull away from Vivian. She refused to give up. She'd track me down after every class, wait for me at the school gates, and camp outside my front door on weekends just to spend an extra hour with me. Seventeen-year-old me couldn't withstand the fierce, relentless devotion of that girl. I finally pleaded with her, "One day, the person you truly love will show up. I'm just someone passing through your life. You don't need to lock yourself down right now." Her cheeks flushed bright red. Her eyes sparkled with sheer determination as she stared back at me, her voice ringing clear and sincere: "Never. No one will ever be more worthy of my love than Ethan Hayes." Never. Forever. She said it, and I believed it. Back then, I didn't understand how hollow that word could be. People change. And it is tragic how easily hearts shift. It turned out Vivian's "forever" only lasted a brief ten years. A single decade was all it took for her to trample over the sacred vows of her youth. A dull, throbbing pain ripped through my chest. I stared at her, interrogating her, feeling as though every word was a blade carving into my own heart: "Ha... hahahaha! A baby? You're actually carrying his baby..." "Vivian Vance, unbelievable..." "He's only been back in the country for six months! And just like that, the old flame reignites?" "You cheated on our marriage... God, you make me sick..." Her head hung low, silent. She let me rage and curse at her without fighting back. She just stepped back a few paces, resting both hands over her lower belly. It was as if she was terrified I would snap and hurt her precious child. Only when I was breathless and went quiet did she finally speak. "Let's get a divorce. The house, the cars, you take it all. I don't want a dime. Don't blame him. The affair is on me. Just... please don't hurt my baby." She owned up to the betrayal without a shred of hesitation, and she divided our assets just as ruthlessly. Of course. The male lead is the male lead, after all. Rumor had it he had made a fortune during his years overseas and had returned home with serious wealth. Naturally, he wouldn't care about our modest marital property. I choked out a laugh through pure fury. I watched as she calmly pulled out a divorce agreement from her designer bag and placed it neatly in front of me. "I'll have movers come pack my things later. You don't need to lift a finger. Just sign." "Fine... fine... great..." I snatched up the papers, muttering the words over and over. Then, right as relief flickered in her eyes, I whipped the agreement down, sending the sheets scattering violently across her designer shoes. "I'll sign the damn papers. But you... get out! Don't you ever show your face in front of me again!" She flinched, looking panicked for a fraction of a second, then tapped something on her phone and practically fled out the door. I leaned against the windowsill. Through the glass, I saw her waiting by the curb. Seconds later, she gracefully slipped into an expensive sports car. The driver's window rolled down smoothly. The man behind the wheel looked directly up at my window, shooting me a smug, provocative smirk. Julian Sterling. The male lead of this world. And the man my wife had cheated on me with.He had transferred into our class during senior year of high school. To be in the same homeroom as me, Vivian had practically begged our counselor. I had been confused back then. "Didn't you say you hated the teachers assigned to that class?" She had just linked her fingers through mine, beaming up at me. "To be with you, Ethan, I can put up with anything." Just as she wanted, we spent that entire summer studying together. When senior year started, Vivian and I successfully landed in the exact same class. Before I could even celebrate, Julian transferred in. He had that arrogant, bad-boy smirk, and his gaze locked onto Vivian the second he walked through the door. Ignoring the homeroom teacher's request to introduce himself at the podium, he strolled down the aisle and dumped his backpack onto the empty desk next to Vivian—a seat left open because her usual desk mate was out sick. "Hey there, pretty neighbor. I'm Julian Sterling. Stick with me and nobody'll mess with you." Vivian ignored him completely, turning around to ask me for help with a calculus problem. Sitting right behind her, watching it all unfold with my own eyes, my world went cold. I knew the plot was kicking into gear. Vivian's original desk mate never came back; rumors said they transferred out of state. Just like that, Julian stayed and became her permanent partner. Every minor character bent backward just to force the male and female leads closer together. It chilled me to the bone. And that was only the beginning. Shortly after, Julian and Vivian were chosen to co-host the school's annual Winter Gala. Supposedly, it had been decided by a student body vote. "Mr. Davis, that's impossible! It's not fair! He just got here! Ethan is way smarter, has better grades, and he's... he's way better looking!" During class meeting, Vivian jumped to her feet and protested furiously. She looked completely outraged and fierce, though she snuck a quick, comforting wink at me. "That's enough," the teacher cut her off. "The administration made the call. Anyone who doesn't want to participate can step down." Her objection was shut down, but right after class ended, she slipped her hand into the hem of my shirt. "Ethan... don't be mad, okay? Don't worry, there's no way I'm hosting with him! I only like you. I only want to share a stage with you. I only want to be with you, forever and ever." Her eyes curved into sweet crescents, and her voice dripped with pure affection. It was sweet enough to melt anyone's heart. Back then, I was always her first choice. She always stood by my side, unyielding. So I let my guard down. I arrogantly assumed our bond was strong enough to defy the story's gravity, and I told her it was okay to do the show. I truly believed someone that resolute would never change. I held onto that naive belief for years. Yet even when she pushed him away, the plot kept forcing them together in ridiculous ways. Once, I stayed home sick for a single day, and somehow they ended up on the exact same city bus, caught in the middle of a purse-snatching where Julian played the hero. By the time I rushed to the police precinct, Vivian was huddled in a chair, crying her eyes out. Julian was crouched before her, cracking joke after joke, desperately trying to get her to smile, though she remained miserable. "Vivian, I'm here. Let's go home." The moment she laid eyes on me, her tears vanished into a radiant smile. She sprinted toward me, throwing herself entirely into my arms, burying her face against my chest as she whispered, "What took you so long? You have no idea how terrified I was... Ethan, will you read me a story tonight?" "Of course. Anything else?" "Yes! I need lots of hugs from you before I feel better..." Leaning against me, she felt safe enough to let her guard down, acting completely spoiled and innocent. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the boy beside us. His fists were clenched tight, his dark eyes brooding as he stared at her brilliant smile. I gave him a polite nod. He merely twisted his mouth into a sharp grin and mouthed two silent words. I read his lips clearly: "Just wait." And today, he had picked her up and driven away, flashing me that same arrogant smirk. Only this time, his lips mouthed: "Thanks for holding her for me." I pulled the curtains shut, trying to pretend I hadn't seen it. But half an hour later, my phone chimed. I unlocked it to find a picture message. The photo was blindingly painful: two hands tightly clasped together, and a woman sleeping peacefully beside him. No wonder. The corners of my mouth twitched, but I couldn't even force a grimace. No wonder she had walked away so easily, claiming she wanted nothing from me. She had already built another home. She was already having his child. The massive wedding portrait hanging on our wall suddenly looked like a mocking joke. I ripped it down from the wall and smashed it onto the floor with all my might.