I was sixteen when I got married for the first time.
Not because I was in love, and not because I understood what marriage truly meant. Life simply pushed me forward, and I followed without asking too many questions.
His name was Daniel.
Daniel was not special in the eyes of the world. He was not rich, not famous, not particularly handsome. But when he looked at me, I always felt like he knew something I didn't. Something important. Something heavy.
Our wedding was small and quiet. Just a few people, a simple white dress, and a ring that felt heavier than it should. When he held my hand during the ceremony, his fingers were cold.
"Are you nervous?" I asked him.
He shook his head slowly.
"No… I'm just running out of time."
I laughed softly. "We just got married. We have all the time in the world."
He didn't laugh.
That was the first moment I felt something strange.
The first night was calm. The second day was normal. We talked, we ate together, we walked outside. He looked at me often, like he was trying to memorize my face.
On the third night, I woke up and saw him standing near the window, staring at the moon.
"Daniel?" I whispered. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
He didn't answer immediately. Then he said something that I would remember for the rest of my life.
"I wonder… in how many lives I have already lost you."
I sat up, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
He turned and smiled, but it was a sad smile.
"You will understand one day."
The next morning, Daniel was gone.
The door was locked from the inside. The windows were closed. Nothing was broken. There was no sign that he left.
He simply disappeared.
People said he ran away. Some said he died. Some said I was cursed. But none of them knew what I saw on the table next to the bed.
A small black key.
On it, there was a number engraved: 1
That was the day my life stopped being normal...