Lacy tried to distract Aaron, but failed. He was engrossed in business discussions with her father, Brann. Even on a major holiday, his mind was filled with numbers.

The only indication that this was a Christmas party was the holiday music playing softly during dinner and the traditional Christmas dinner fare. Otherwise, it could have been any formal gathering.

Guests were dressed in black, red, silver, and gold, but nothing overtly festive. Rich people, Keeley mused, had the strangest standards, oscillating between excess and subtle restraint.

Keeley's childhood Christmas parties involved eggnog, elf hats, reindeer antlers, ugly sweaters, and off-key caroling. This event was a stark contrast.

She felt sorry for the caterers and hotel staff, imagining them longing to be home with their families instead of serving these snobbish wealthy individuals.

Christmas was supposed to be about family! Why were fifty of the Hales' closest friends gathered here?

"Keeley, where did you get your dress? It's so unique."

She was the only one in a floral dress, but it was acceptable; she adhered to the dress code. Most of the older generation wore solid red or black, while younger socialites favored glittery silver or gold.

"I'm not sure; Aaron bought it for me."

At the time, she was unaware of Lacy's interest in Aaron; her comment, innocent enough, would later sting.

Lacy, however, saw it as a challenge. "No wonder it's a bit different. Men will never understand fashion the way women do."

Keeley couldn't formulate a polite response. Still new to this social circle (she'd only been a part of it since June), she lacked the finesse to navigate such situations smoothly.

Smiling neutrally and eating another roll was the best solution.

The rest of the dinner proceeded similarly. She deflected Lacy and her mother's barbs while attending to her mother-in-law. Aaron, oblivious to her discomfort, continued discussing business throughout the meal. It was her worst Christmas yet, and she foresaw more of the same.

Reflecting on past Christmases—and on Aaron, in general—was depressing. Despite her best efforts to move on, he still intruded unexpectedly into her thoughts.

But he was no longer a concern! Why dwell on the past?

Keeley's choices were entirely her own now. She could wear, eat, and do whatever she pleased. She no longer needed to cater to his wishes, so why couldn't she banish him from her mind?

She hoped the cliché "time heals all wounds" would prove true. She didn't want to spend her second chance dwelling on her past mistakes.

Almost a year had passed, and things were vastly different. She pulled the blanket over her head, trying to shut out the light and her thoughts.

Weren't holidays often difficult in the years following a loss? Her situation was unusual, but her reaction might be a normal response to grief. Hadn't Christmas been miserable for the first few years after losing her mother and Kaleb?

Currently, she wasn't mourning Aaron's loss; she was mourning the life she'd lost to him. She hoped these feelings would soon subside. The memories, however, remained.

Keeley's melancholy lingered, but after Christmas, a renewed sense of optimism emerged with the approaching New Year.

New Year's Eve was a time for self-reflection, goal-setting, and looking to the future. Sure, most people abandoned their New Year's resolutions within a month, but that didn't diminish the opportunity for a fresh start.

This would be her first year without Aaron in fourteen years. She planned to spend time with her college friends, Valentina and Ryan, focus on her studies, and fully embrace college life.

She couldn't wait. Her previous year, 2006, had been entirely consumed by Aaron.

When she wasn't with him, she was texting him. When she wasn't texting him, she was thinking about him or fantasizing about their future. A future that never materialized.

Being young and in love could be devastating if one gave their heart to the wrong person. Aaron Hale was undoubtedly the wrong person.

Since she had no plans with him this year, and her father had a company party, she accepted Jeffrey's invitation to a Times Square New Year's Eve party. His older brother's friends had canceled, leaving enough tickets for Keeley and Lydia. Spending time with friends seemed the perfect way to ring in the new year.

Keeley had never attended an informal New Year's Eve party. In high school, she watched television specials with her father. Later, with Aaron, she attended black-tie galas.

Unsure what to wear, she texted Lydia for outfit suggestions. Fashion was never Keeley's strong suit. As Aaron's wife, she'd relied on others for fashion advice.

An immediate text arrived: "These are all too blah! We're going to a party in Times Square! Even casual dress needs more glamor."

Keeley was at a loss. "But this is all I have."

"Tell you what, come over. We're about the same size, and I have some options that might work better."

So, Keeley took the subway to Queens. As she sat, a song that didn't yet exist got stuck in her head. Frustratingly, she only knew the chorus. It wouldn't be released until 2013.

Sighing, she shuffled through her iPod until she found a song by the same artist. It would have to do.

Such anachronisms were common since her "rebirth": songs, movies, TV shows, and places that didn't yet exist.

Tomorrow would be 2007, but she died in 2019; a long time before timelines aligned.

Keeley wished she could forget her past life now that she'd successfully extricated herself from Aaron's orbit. Moving forward would be easier without the burden of those memories.

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