Don't Marry Him

There was one month left until my wedding. I sat on the living room carpet with a stack of off-white invitations spread out in front of me. I've been dating Chip Geller for two years. He's gentle and considerate, the perfect partner in everyone's eyes. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains outside, casting a glow over the invitation like a halo of happiness. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I got up, puzzled—there was no visitor expected at this time. Peeking through the peephole, I saw a woman standing outside. She wore a dark coat, her hair disheveled, with clear bruises marking her face. I hesitated for a moment but still opened the door. "Hello, may I ask who you're looking for?" I asked politely. The woman looked up, her gaze fixed directly on my face. Her eyes were complex and heavy, as if carrying too much pain. "I'm looking for you, Stella Xavier." She spoke, her voice hoarse. I was stunned. "Stella Xavier" is my name—how could she know? "Who are you? Do we know each other?" I took a cautious step back. The woman gave a bitter smile, brushing aside the strands of hair on her forehead to reveal a jagged scar at her temple. "I am you, 35 years old." Those words hit my ears like a thunderclap. I stared at her face, and from the fine lines around her eyes and her features, I could see traces of my future self. "Don't joke around. How could that possibly be true?" I forced myself to stay calm, but inside, I was panicking. "I'm not joking." She stepped into the room, her eyes scanned the invitation on the table, and her expression immediately darkened. "Don't marry Chip Geller. Please, I'm begging you." She grabbed my hand; her palm was icy cold, and her grip was so tight it hurt. I tried to break free, but she gripped me tightly. "Why? Chip is great, and we're about to get married." I protested, but a twinge of unease began to stir in my heart. "Great?" She sneered, laughter laced with bitterness. "He doesn't love you at all. He's only using you as a substitute for his first love." My heart sank sharply. "Substitute? What do you mean?" "His first love is Julia Watson. She has the same eyes and smile as you." Her voice shook. "After the marriage, he'll slowly show his true colors. He'll lose his temper over the smallest things, throw things, and eventually, he'll hit you. I shook my head in disbelief. "No way, Chip is so gentle, he would never do something like that to me." "I've lived through days like those!" she suddenly raised her voice, her emotions growing intense. "These wounds on my body were all caused by him." "I live in fear every day. I want to divorce, but he threatens me, and I don't even dare to contact my family." She rolled up her sleeves, revealing the bruises on her arms—some already scabbed over, others still fresh. My eyes stung from those scars, and my stomach churned. "I traveled back to stop you from repeating my mistakes." Her voice softened again, filled with pleading. "Don't marry him. Leave him while you still can." I stood there, my mind completely blank. The woman before me, her scars, the sadness in her eyes—they all felt too real to be a hallucination. But Chip Geller's usual tenderness kept flashing through my mind. Should I trust her? This woman claiming to be my future self, bringing this cruel warning—how much of it is true? After that day, I felt uneasy. The warning from my 35-year-old self was like a thorn piercing my heart. I tried to convince myself it was just a dream, a hallucination caused by pre-wedding anxiety. But the scars on her body and the desperate look in her eyes kept replaying over and over in my mind. Chip Geller called me as usual, gently asking how the invitations were coming along. I gripped my mobile phone, my throat tightening. I wanted to ask him about his first love, but the words caught in my throat and I swallowed them back. "It's pretty good, just a few details that need fixing." I forced a smile and tried to keep my voice steady. "Don't overwork yourself. Tonight, I'll take you to your favorite Western restaurant." His voice was filled with affection. After hanging up, I sat on the sofa, feeling deeply conflicted. I decided to watch him a little longer. If he really is like my future self said, he's bound to slip up sooner or later. On a weekend afternoon, I met up with my best friend to hang out at a café. Passing by a café by the window, I caught sight of a familiar figure by accident. It was Chip Geller. He was sitting by the window, with a woman across from him. My heart tightened, and I instinctively stopped in my tracks. My best friend followed my gaze and asked, "Isn't that Chip Geller? Who's the woman sitting across from him?"