Between Fates and Forgotten Dreams

Chapter 1

The new green willows waved gently in the breeze, the remnants of winter ice melted away, and the cool air whispered a promise of warmer days to come. It was early spring in the North.
In Maddington, the clock struck one in the morning. The city had fallen silent, except for the Fortune Corporation Tower, which still gleamed bright with lights from the business floors.
Inside, Evangeline Sinclair, dressed in a sleek black blazer, sat engrossed in her computer screen, her eyes darting across dense documents. The large glass windows behind her framed her silhouette, showcasing her poised and competent demeanor, almost as if she were a figure in a painting.
Rowena Fairchild, her assistant, watched with a mix of admiration and envy. Evangeline represented everything Rowena aspired to; her heart raced as she glanced at her watch. It was well past one, and Evangeline, a powerhouse in her own right, still radiated the same boundless energy she had earlier in the day. Remarkably, she’d been grinding through over twenty consecutive days of overtime.
Suddenly, Evangeline coughed softly, her hand instinctively moving to her chest.
“Evangeline, should I get you some water?” Rowena sprang to her feet, concern etched on her face.
Evangeline’s complexion paled slightly as she held her chest, attempting to rise. “I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice trembling.
But as her sentence drifted into uncertainty, her body gave way, collapsing onto the chair with a dull thud.
“Evangeline!” Rowena gasped, her voice rising in panic. “Call for help—Evangeline has fainted!”
…
Although Evangeline couldn’t muster the strength to open her eyes, she was acutely aware of the chaos around her—her colleagues were rushing in, paramedics were present, and she was being wheeled into the emergency room… Yet gradually, everything faded away into a distant blur.
“Bang bang bang…”
Evangeline jolted awake to the sound of loud knocking. Before she could collect her thoughts, her throat felt constricted, an uncomfortable sensation forcing her to cough violently, as if dislodging something lodged within. Once the discomfort subsided, she opened her eyes, blinking in confusion at her surroundings.
She found herself in a small, cluttered room—barely thirty square feet—its chaos reminiscent of a junkyard. The desk by her bed was piled high with bowls, utensils, and litter, crowned by a white enamel jar emblazoned with “Serving the People.”
Dirty clothes draped across a chair while the once-cement floor lay hidden beneath an unsightly heap of debris...
Panic rose within her; where was she? It didn’t resemble any hospital she had ever seen.
“Bang bang bang.”
The knocking intensified, startling Evangeline further. She frowned, feeling compelled to respond. Kicking off the filthy blanket, she swung her legs over the side, only to be hit with another wave of shock—she was wearing rough black trousers. What was happening? Where had these clothes come from?
“Bang.”
The door burst open, and Evangeline flinched, throwing off the blanket and rising from the bed. In the doorway stood a young man, accompanied by two women, all donned in dark blue uniforms akin to factory attire. The young man, tall and muscular, wore an expression of fury, casting a formidable shadow over the scene.
“Who are you?” Evangeline frowned, entirely unrecognizing of these intruders.
“It’s her, Director!” one of the women with braids, clearly the youngest, shouted, pointing at Evangeline with a mix of outrage and accusation. “She’s the one who stole two cans from us last time! Now she’s taken a bottle of Malted Milk!”
Evangeline’s face drained of color. Stealing cans? Malted milk? This was absurd! She couldn’t fathom how anyone could think she would steal anything. “Stop slandering me!” she exclaimed, her voice rising sharply before she caught herself, quickly covering her mouth. “Who says I stole your things?” she spoke again, this time in an even, furious tone.

Chapter 2

"Stop playing dumb, Evangeline!" Matilda Grey's voice was sharp, her short hair framing her face like a thundercloud. "Rowena Fairchild saw you walk into this room. You can't deny it any longer," she glared at Evangeline Sinclair with palpable disgust. The woman was lazy—her living space looked like a pigsty, and her morals were non-existent. How could someone like her possibly deserve a college student like Albert Younger?
At the mention of "Guardian Guild," Evangeline felt a shiver run down her spine, a sudden rush of fear that stopped her breath.
"I would never stoop so low as to do something unethical," Evangeline shot back, her heart racing as she dared to stand her ground.
"Do you have a conscience?" Matilda shot back, anger boiling in her voice. "Rowena has already lost this month's bonus because of you! Don't even think about denying it."
Suddenly, a young girl piped up, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Look over there!" She pointed toward the corner of the writing desk. "Right there!"
Evangeline squinted, taking a few steps closer. To her shock, there was indeed a large black glass jar tucked away in the corner. She approached it and picked it up; the label read "Malted Milk."
Her eyes widened in terror. Malted Milk? That was something from her childhood. How could it possibly be here? Shouldn't she be in the hospital? Where exactly was she?
Matilda wasted no time with mockery. "Now we have it all. Albert, what do you think we should do now?"
Albert.
Evangeline's mind went blank at the sound of the name. It felt as if a heavy weight had crashed into her brain, scattering her thoughts like confetti.
Memories belonging to a woman named Evelyn Sinclair intertwined with her own...
Evangeline's fists clenched unconsciously. Panic surged within her; her body swayed, grasping for solid ground. Suddenly, it clicked—this was why everything felt so distorted. The memories she had been missing… she finally recalled them.
She remembered being rushed to the hospital after her co-workers called for help. The doctors had announced her death in the operating room. She was aware as they spoke but had no recollection of what happened after.
In that moment of distraction, Evangeline felt a punch land squarely on her face. It was Albert, his fist makeshift justice, but she couldn't react. Her head was a foggy haze, only one thought looping in her mind: I'm dead. She was actually dead.
Smack.
The sudden pain on her cheek snapped her back to reality. She swayed to the left, dropping the jar of malted milk, which shattered on the floor, its contents splattering everywhere in a puddle of soft yellow.
The pain and the noise jolted Evangeline into clarity. She straightened her posture. No, this was not a dream.
Evangeline Sinclair had traveled through time.
From the 21st century—a world of the internet—she was plunged into the mid-1980s, an era where even cell phones were yet to be conceived.
She went from being a struggling foreign company employee, just making her way in the urban jungle, to a woman who struggled to read.
And she was now no longer the never-been-in-love Evangeline but a married woman named Evelyn.
Yes, married.
The man who’d just hit her was Albert Younger, her husband in this life.

Chapter 3

Evangeline Sinclair glared furiously at Albert Younger. How could he strike a woman?
But just as they locked eyes, something inside Evangeline shifted violently. At around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, one should be full of energy, but Albert’s gaze reflected nothing but pain, despair, resentment, and fury. His expression was the embodiment of negativity.
This wasn't right. This wasn't how a person in their prime should look.
Albert’s fist had barely made contact before the air felt heavy around him. Anger bubbled within him, and he gritted his teeth, raising his fist to strike again. Suddenly, a slightly shorter young man, with small eyes and disheveled hair, dashed in from behind them and grabbed Albert in a bear hug from behind.
“Hey, Al, calm down, man!” called out Benedict McAllister, his arms wrapped tight around Albert.
"Albert!" Matilda Grey, who had been taken aback by the earlier incident, urged, "You need to calm down!"
Benedict continued, “Look, let’s just talk, okay? No need for violence.”
Albert felt as though a heavy stone was pressing against his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He looked at Evangeline with hatred, his fists balled up tight, veins popping on his forehead, teeth grinding in frustration. He swallowed hard, gritting his teeth as he uttered, “Benedict, let me go. I won’t hit her.”
Finally, Benedict let him go, giving his arm a reassuring pat.
Albert’s face twisted in rage, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "Director Caldwell, we need to hand this over to the Guardian Guild for theft charges."
Hearing 'Guardian Guild,' an overwhelming wave of fear surged through Evangeline. She struggled to stifle it before it could take full hold.
“Al,” Benedict gently pulled on Albert, “don’t make this worse.”
Albert, exuding despair, scoffed, “I’ve lost all my dignity. What more is there to lose?”
Evangeline’s hands hung limply at her sides, but slowly, they formed fists as she fought against the chaos in her mind. If she wanted to survive in this new world, borrowing Evelyn's body, then she couldn't allow them to label her a thief.
The pain on her face was still fresh, but she swallowed her humiliation and took a deep breath, looking up at Albert. “Let’s just settle this. I’ll make it up to you. You help me this time, and I promise I’ll repay you double.”
Caught off guard by her humility, Albert glared at her with bloodshot eyes, shouting, “So if I help you this time, you’re just going to steal again, right?”
Evangeline felt a lump in her throat, completely at a loss for words. Who would believe her when her past as Evelyn painted her as utterly untrustworthy?
“Albert, what’s your decision?” Director Caldwell urged, his brows furrowed. “If you want to turn her over to the Guardian Guild, let’s head there now and save everyone some time.”
“Let’s just pay the fine, Director! We can settle this right now!” Benedict interjected quickly. “How much do we owe?”
Despite Albert's sullen demeanor, he didn’t stop him, and Evangeline let out a tiny sigh of relief. She would just have to accept this misfortune.
“Director, the value of the cans she took, plus today’s bottle of Malted Milk, comes to a total of eleven dollars and thirty cents. Hand that over, and we’ll consider this case closed. But remember, any more trouble, and I won’t come to you first—I’ll have her sent straight to the Guardian Guild.”
“Don’t worry; there won’t be a next time,” Benedict assured, nudging Albert. “Just pay up for now, and we’ll sort out the details later.”
With a reluctant sigh, Albert dug into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash and meal tickets before tossing them to Benedict. Benedict sorted through them, announcing, “That’s four fifty in cash and three in meal tickets.” He dug into his own pocket and counted out the remaining amount, handing it over to Director Caldwell. “We still need a dollar sixty from you. Just a moment.”

Chapter 4

The food supply department could also settle their accounts using meal vouchers from the cafeteria.
Saying this, Albert Younger dashed out, returning shortly with cash in hand. He handed it over to Director Caldwell, who glanced at Evangeline Sinclair with a cold smirk. "Alright, we'll let it slide this time. But next time, it won't be so easy, Little Worker. Let’s go." He turned on his heel and led his entourage downstairs.
Once the situation had settled, Benedict McAllister commented, "Well, off to work we go."
"You go ahead. Can you please let the director know I’ll be coming?" Albert said to Benedict.
Benedict patted Albert on the shoulder, said nothing else, and walked away.
The room was left with just Albert Younger and Evangeline Sinclair. Albert’s gaze bore into Evangeline, filled with an icy despair. Meanwhile, chaos reigned in Evangeline’s mind. Was she destined to live in this Evangeline's body forever? Where had the real Evangeline gone?
Time slipped by until Albert’s icy voice broke the silence. "Pack your things. Go back home. I’ll tell my dad I won’t divorce you."
Not get divorced? Had Albert been planning to divorce her all along?
Her mind raced, desperately sifting through the tangled memories to piece together who Evangeline really was. Before long, she connected the dots regarding Albert and Evangeline's tumultuous history.
In 1978, Big Thomas from Sinclair Village followed the village head, Sir Geoffrey, as he drove the tractor to deliver supplies to the commune. Halfway through, the tractor skidded and nearly tipped over. At the last moment, Big Thomas pushed Sir Geoffrey out of harm's way but was trapped below when the vehicle fell. In his final moments, he wished for Sir Geoffrey's son, Albert Younger, to marry his own daughter, Evangeline, who had struggled to find a suitor. Sir Geoffrey obliged, and with a smile, Big Thomas passed away.
Evangeline was notoriously lazy and notoriously ill-tempered, earning a fearful reputation. No one dared to provoke her in the surrounding area. Albert, having graduated high school, found her undesirable, but under his father's pressure, he reluctantly agreed to marry Evangeline.
Though they were wed, Albert had never looked at Evangeline with affection, much less shared a bed with her.
Determined to flee Evangeline’s grasp, Albert pursued excellence, eventually gaining admission to college and later securing a job as a technician at Fortunehaven Forge.
After working steadily for several months at the Forge, Albert wrote home requesting a divorce. Furious, his father, Sir Geoffrey, packed Evangeline's things and sent her off to this place. She had been here nearly a month now.
From the day Evangeline arrived, she had embarrassingly been a spectacle, leaving Albert humiliated.
Albert felt defeated. He had resigned himself to fate: if this woman would return home, he was willing to sacrifice his life for her.
"Pack your things." Resignation filled Albert's eyes. When Evangeline remained silent, he took it as consent. "From now on, I’ll send you twenty dollars a month. Manage it as you see fit."
Back home.
Evangeline shuddered at the thought. No, she couldn’t return home.
In these times, returning could trap her there forever; as long as she remained here, she still had chances to survive.
Taking a deep breath, Evangeline Sinclair spoke firmly, "No, I won’t go back home."

Chapter 5

Albert suddenly erupted, charging at Evangeline Sinclair like an enraged lion, his voice thunderous, “I’m demanding a divorce! My father doesn’t agree, and you don’t either. Now that I’ve chosen not to end this, if I suggest you go back home, you refuse! Evangeline, what do you want from me? Do you want me to die for you to be satisfied?”
Internally, Evangeline stifled her scream. After a decade in the workforce, she rarely lost her composure; this wasn’t the emotion she was supposed to display. She looked into Albert’s eyes, those youthful orbs ablaze with anger yet shadowed by profound despair. “As for the past…” she began, stopping short. She understood the words she needed to say; it was genuinely difficult, yet she pressed on: “I’m truly sorry about what happened before, but the past is unchangeable, and I can’t make amends. So, I must choose not to burden you further.”
“Evangeline, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?” Albert continued to shout. “Are we supposed to owe your Sinclair family a debt of life for what happened? Would sacrificing my life suffice?”
What a moral trap.
Evangeline took a deep breath, her voice steady. “Calm down.” Habitually, she crossed her arms, keeping her back straight. “I’m not playing tricks; forcing it won't make it sweeter. I agree to the divorce, but I have one condition. If you can meet this condition, we can proceed with the paperwork at any time.”
Albert’s cheek muscles twitched; he couldn’t have heard her right. She actually agreed to the divorce…
After a tense moment, he ground out a few words, “What’s the condition?”
As long as she consented to the divorce, even if she asked for ten conditions, he would comply.
“I want five hundred bucks; if you give me five hundred, I’ll agree to the divorce.”
Five hundred.
Albert felt his fists clench tightly. He earned just over sixty bucks a month; to save up that kind of money without eating or drinking would take him nine months at the very least. But, even if she asked for a thousand, he still wanted to end this marriage.
Evangeline clearly noticed Albert’s agitation. The thing she had been yearning for was finally within reach—how could she not feel joy? But his demeanor shifted again to one of grim silence. His face slowly paled, the fists hanging at his sides trembling slightly. Could their family’s debt to the Sinclair family really be measured in cash?
Finally, he despaired and said, “My father will never agree.”
Evangeline sighed inwardly; this was stark moral coercion, especially when it involved life and death. Observing Albert’s reaction, she replied calmly, “I’ll talk to your father.”
Albert stared at Evangeline in shock. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes wrinkled, her skin rough and weary, yet she held herself upright, her face calm, her eyes devoid of greed—rather, they shone with clarity… yes, clarity, as if she had everything under control.
That aura of calmness was so powerful that even Albert’s inner rage gradually settled.
“I’m asking for five hundred to give my mother some closure.”
Her voice, though gentle, carried significant weight.
Albert swallowed hard and gritted his teeth, “Fine, I’ll give you the money, consider it a life I owe your Sinclair family, but in the future…”
“There is no future.” Evangeline’s clear voice interrupted him; she didn’t even look at him. “Life and death are fated; wealth and status are matters of luck. My father passed early; that was his misfortune, and it shouldn’t cost you your entire life. He was only worried about me; if I could lead a good life, he wouldn’t have any regrets. I promise, our Sinclair family will never use this against your family for moral high ground in the future. I take the money, and we’ll finalize the paperwork; the past will be nothing but a closed chapter.”

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