There Is No Tomorrow I Cannot Reach

On my wedding day, I'd barely picked up the bride when the wedding car ran out of gas.

Terrified of missing the lucky hour, I grabbed a gas can, ran to the nearest station, and bought five hundred dollars' worth of fuel in one go.

But even with a full tank, the car made it barely a mile before it died again.

I thought the car was broken and called a mechanic right away.

He crawled underneath, checked for a long time, and told me there was nothing wrong with the car. It was just out of gas.

My fiance, Autumn Yates, was crying so hard she couldn't stop.

"Caspar James, if you regret marrying me, just say it. Using an empty tank as an excuse, who exactly are you trying to insult?"

I hurried to explain and plead, humbling myself, and right in front of relatives from both families I refilled the tank six separate times.

But every time the gauge climbed to full, the car would go a few miles at most before the tank hit empty again.

A perfectly good wedding was ruined outright. The hotel canceled the banquet, and Autumn was so furious she called off the engagement.

Her younger brother posted the videos of me refueling over and over online, and everyone piled on, calling me a scheming man, a cheap dog.

I tried desperately to explain, desperately to prove myself, but the abuse only got worse.

Someone even threw red paint on my parents' front door, and the rage of it gave my father a heart attack.

Relatives and friends changed their stories one after another, saying they'd only seen me carrying a gas can and had no idea whether there was really gas inside.

Under wave after wave of cursing and blame, I fell into severe depression and threw myself off the roof of our wedding apartment.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day.

I jolted awake with a start. My mother was standing beside my bed.

"Get up already. Today is your big day, the day you get married."

She was just like last time, in a red qipao, her face glowing.

My nose stung, and I nearly wept.

Last time, all because of that cursed wedding car that would never hold any gas.

I was dogpiled online, my parents were mocked, and someone splashed paint on their door.

No matter how I explained, no matter what evidence I showed, not a single person believed me.

The rage gave my parents heart attacks. They were rushed to the hospital and couldn't be saved.

And I, in my despair, jumped from the building and died.

Remembering the tragedy of last time, I quickly grabbed my phone and called my fiance.

"Autumn, let's postpone the wedding"

Before I could finish, the other end exploded.

"Caspar James, you want to call it off?!"

"No, no, no, I don't want to call it off."

I was sweating from head to toe, not knowing how to explain.

Autumn was a good girl. Three years together, and she'd never once lost her temper, never once asked for an expensive gift.

I didn't want to give her up.

But if I told her straight out that I'd been reborn, I was afraid she'd think I was insane.

Caught in the bind, I suddenly caught sight of my mother's medical records on the desk.

My eyes lit up, and I rushed to explain into the phone.

"My appendix is acting up. It hurts really bad. I might need surgery. Let's push the wedding back two weeks."

Autumn's tone softened at once.

"How did your appendix just flare up out of nowhere? Get to the hospital and get checked right away. I'll handle explaining it to my parents."

Her words nearly moved me to tears.

I hung up, then made up some excuse to get my own parents to agree to delay the wedding.

Then I drove out alone in that same wedding car from the last life, to the gate of Autumn's apartment complex.

Last time, to make sure the wedding went smoothly, I had clearly filled the tank ahead of time.

But the moment I pulled out of her complex, the car started chiming its low-fuel warning.

This time, I wanted to see exactly what was going on.

The minutes ticked by, and it was almost the exact time when things had gone wrong last life.

I turned the key and started the car.

Just like before, the car had gone fifty meters when the low-fuel light came on again.

I didn't go buy gas myself the way I had last time. Instead, I opened the voice recorder on my phone and called roadside assistance.

"Hi, my car's out of gas. I need your help."

Before long, an assistance worker named Rhys Lambert showed up carrying a gas can.

Their work cameras were rolling, filming the whole thing from the first moment they saw me.

The tank filled up fast. I stopped Rhys as he was about to leave.

"My brakes felt a little off just now. Could you take a look for me?"

Not understanding what I was after, Rhys climbed into the car, turned the key, started it.

He rolled forward a meter, two meters I stared at the fuel gauge without blinking.

Ten meters passed. The fuel level didn't change.

Twenty meters passed. Still no change.

Could it be that this time, because I hadn't gotten married, the fuel level stayed put?

The problem was in the wedding, not in the car?

Just as I was turning it over and getting nowhere, the car lurched hard.

Rhys turned his head. "Caspar, the brakes are fine."

"Huh?" I came back to myself and forced a smile at him. "Thank you"

In that instant, the fuel needle spun from full straight down to zero.

Rhys went pale on the spot.

He checked frantically, front and back.

From the car to the road, there wasn't a single trace of gas anywhere.

As if the whole scene of us fueling up had been a hallucination.

"That's impossible."

He mumbled it and opened his work camera, then suddenly smacked his forehead.

"Look at my head. You called roadside assistance because your car broke down. Why did I remember it as running out of gas?"

My stomach dropped. I grabbed the dashcam and rewound.

On the recording, the fuel can in Rhys's hands had turned into a toolbox, and the refueling had become a close-up of repair work.

"I clearly called you out here to gas up the car."

I pulled out my phone and found the recording of the call.

My own voice came through, clear as anything:

"Hi, my car broke down, I need your help."

How could this be happening?

I unscrewed the fuel cap again and shone my phone's flashlight inside.

The inner wall of the tank was spotless. Not a single drop of fuel.

My face must have looked frightening, because Rhys didn't dare linger. He held up the QR code.

"Two thousand for the roadside assistance, man."

The gas never went in, but the two thousand went out just fine.

After Rhys left, I walked the exact route he'd driven, back and forth, several times. Nothing. Not one clue.

There were no shops on this road, no passersby, barely even a mouse.

There was no way anyone could have stolen the fuel.

If I kept trying to refuel it myself, chances were I'd just waste the effort again.

But what if someone else did the refueling?

The moment the thought hit, I called my childhood friend Elmer Weiss and asked him to gas up the car for me.

Elmer agreed without hesitation. He helped me tow the car to the gas station.

He didn't mention that I was the owner. He just told the attendant, "Five hundred worth of gas."

The attendant took the money, lifted the nozzle, and started pumping.

The machine rumbled, and in under two minutes the tank was full again.

This time I was smart about it. Right in front of the station attendant, I opened the fuel cap and confirmed there was gas inside before I let myself relax.

Then I switched on the camera, aimed it at the fuel gauge, and had Elmer drive laps around the station.

Elmer looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Gas is this expensive and you're just burning through it like this?"

The words sat heavy in my chest.

But there was nothing to be done. This wasn't the time to argue about money.

The only thing that mattered right now was figuring out how the fuel was vanishing into thin air.

Complaints aside, Elmer still got in the car and started circling the station, loop after loop.

Fifty full laps later, the gauge had dropped by only a hair.

He rolled down the window. "Keep going?"

I thought about it. "No. Just sit in the car. Don't get out."

Through the window, Elmer and I both watched the dashboard.

A minute passed. Nothing changed on the gauge.

Ten minutes passed. Still nothing changed on the gauge.

Elmer yawned and was about to say something when the dashboard suddenly lit up red, warning that fuel was low and to refuel soon.

"What the hell!"

Elmer rubbed his eyes and stared at the dashboard, looking again and again, then abruptly threw open the door and called over the attendant who'd pumped the gas.

"Get your manager out here!"

"We just filled up, we've barely driven, and the gas is already gone. You people are going to answer for this."

The station attendant got worked up too.

"I clearly saw the tank was full."

He hurried off and found the manager.

The manager looked over the car, and his expression turned strange.

"You're telling me this car, this spotless car that doesn't even smell like gas, just got refueled?"

Elmer froze for a second, then grabbed his phone and pulled up the video.

One glance and his face changed.

A moment ago the video had clearly recorded the gauge going from full to falling to gone. But now the needle on the dashboard in the footage sat at zero the whole time, never once moving.

Good thing I'd braced myself for it.

I grabbed the manager and wouldn't let it go. "We came here to fill up. You owe us an explanation."

The manager had no choice but to take us to the surveillance footage.

In the 4K feed, you could plainly see Elmer towing the car to the station.

You could see the attendant jam the nozzle into the tank.

But there was no payment record in the station's account. None at all.

The attendant saw that and instantly dug in.

He said he'd been holding the nozzle, ready to pump once I paid, but since I never paid, he'd never pressed the trigger.

"That's a load of bull."

Elmer lost it, rolling up his sleeves to go at the attendant.

The manager quickly stepped in. "Easy, easy. There's a simple way to find out whether gas was pumped or not."

"You two were the only customer all morning. We just check whether the fuel level dropped."

As he said it, he pulled up the fuel data.

Sure enough, the fuel was down by forty liters, the exact capacity of my tank.

"See, see, see..."

Elmer's confidence surged. "Our tank holds exactly forty liters. We just gassed up at your station, so how did it suddenly disappear?"

"You people are giving us an explanation today. No explanation, we're not leaving."

The manager's face darkened too, and he fixed a cold stare on me.

"Right. You only came in, drove a few laps, and never paid. So how did the fuel go down?"

My stomach dropped, and then I heard the manager say it, slow and deliberate:

"I think you two staged this whole scene to steal gas!"

The one piece of evidence that could prove I'd put gas in the car ended up turning me into a suspect. I never saw it coming.

The manager figured I'd sent Elmer driving loops around the station to distract the staff, so I could siphon off fuel while nobody was watching.

There was nothing I could say to make it right, and the officers walked me into the station.

They questioned Elmer, the manager, and the pump attendant one by one, then went over the full surveillance footage and the fuel-volume records.

The look they gave me got harder by the minute.

Every scrap of evidence pointed the same way: my behavior was bizarre, I was picking a fight, and over and over I'd tried to run a scam on the station.

They even pulled the surrounding cameras.

"The footage shows your car was towed in, Mr. James. And after it got here, it somehow ran several full loops without anyone paying for gas."

"You say this isn't a shakedown. Then how do you explain that?"

My head buzzed like it might split open.

It had been exactly like this in my last life.

If every piece of evidence had just vanished, fine.

But no. Some of it disappeared, and some of it stayed.

And what stayed only ever proved I was the troublemaker looking to cause a scene.

The officers noted I had a clean record, so they didn't book me. They just made me pay the station five hundred dollars in compensation.

I came out of the station with all the life drained out of me.

Autumn called to ask how I was feeling.

All I could say was that I was healing well, and it wouldn't hold up the wedding two weeks from now.

Elmer saw me looking like something the rain had beaten flat, and it got to him. He started talking me into it.

"That car's cursed, man. Why don't you just sell it?"

I'd bought that car the year Autumn and I started dating. It carried a lot of good memories.

That was the whole reason I'd chosen it as the wedding car.

"Ah..." I let out a long sigh. "Fine. Let's sell it."

However much the past mattered, it mattered less than staying alive for the future.

Old Les, the used-car dealer, heard I was selling and came racing over.

"Brother, this car's in great shape. I'll give you eighty grand, money in your account today."

Eighty grand?

I'd paid two hundred fifty for it, driven it three years, never so much as scratched it.

It stung, and I couldn't help it.

But what choice did I have.

That same day I took the money, handed over the car, and stood there watching Old Les fill the tank right up and drive off.

"Well, that's just weird." Elmer stood on his toes, peering the way Old Les had gone. "How come he drives it and nothing happens?"

Guess I'm just not a lucky man.

Seeing me sour-faced and sighing, Elmer clapped me on the shoulder to cheer me up.

"It's fine. Sure, you're out a car, but at least you're getting a wife out of it."

"That Old Les? Guy's past forty and still single."

At the mention of Autumn, my mood eased up a little.

Terrified the other wedding cars might have the same problem, I called and canceled the whole plan to escort the bride.

I even asked Autumn if we could just head straight to the hotel.

She seemed to sense something was weighing on me, and she was so understanding about it.

"Of course we can. And if it'd put your mind at ease, we could just travel for the wedding instead. Skip the ceremony altogether."

Tears welled up all at once.

A girl this good. I'd lost her in my last life, and if in this one I couldn't even give her a ceremony, I'd never forgive myself as long as I lived.

In the days that followed, I threw myself into planning the wedding.

Mom and Dad didn't understand it, but they respected what I wanted and took it on themselves to explain to the relatives.

They said young people these days couldn't be bothered with all the fuss and the old formalities, and that was why we'd dropped the escort.

My mother-in-law tried a few times to make things hard for me, and Autumn headed her off every time.

She looped her arm through mine down the aisle, put on the ring, and drank the couple's toast with me.

Somehow we made it all the way through the wedding.

Uncle Theo, good and drunk, clapped my shoulder and gave me his advice.

"You, now. Whatever else you've got, you've got luck."

I nodded and nodded, saw him respectfully out of the hotel, and let out a long breath.

This life, I'd finally dodged the fate of dying in pieces, and my own happiness had come at last.

I was still swept up in all of it when Uncle Theo's angry shout burst out from in front of the hotel.

"Huh? How's my tank empty?"

Then voice after voice went up.

"Mine too. I filled it right up when I got here this morning."

"Brand-new car, only put gas in it two days ago. How's it saying the tank's low..."

I stood there like I'd been struck by lightning.

The wedding car was sold. The wedding had already happened.

So why was this still happening?

Uncle Theo came storming into the banquet hall, shouting, "Which bastard touched my car?"

The rest of them poured in behind him, crowding around the hall manager and cursing.

"Our cars were all parked in the hotel lot. They were fine when we came in. How are they all out of gas now?"

"If your hotel doesn't give us an explanation today, we'll take this public."

""

Seeing the crowd about to erupt, Autumn spun in helpless circles.

"Caspar, go smooth it over. It's our wedding, after all. Don't let it blow up."

I forced myself forward. "Uncle Theo, everyone, please, hear me out"

"Hear you out about what? The hotel's got a thief inside. Call the police"

"Right, call the police"

Just as things were about to break loose, the officers arrived, and they'd even brought a mechanic along.

The mechanic pulled the dipstick, then opened the fuel cap.

His whole face was baffled. "No leak. Doesn't look siphoned either. It's just empty inside."

Uncle Theo boiled over and jabbed a finger at the hotel.

"You people were keeping the cars. Now the gas is gone, so you're paying for it."

The manager was nearly in tears, explaining at the top of his lungs.

"Everyone, please, don't panic. Our hotel has security cameras. We'll get to the bottom of this for you"

But every person in the room was worked up, and no one was listening to a word he said.

Sweat pouring down his face, the manager begged me for help.

"Mr. James, please, could you help calm this down? Even if the gas is gone, that's fine, our hotel will compensate for it at full value."

Full value? Unless the hotel bought every one of these cars outright.

Still, the hotel was innocent in all this, so I stepped up to smooth things over anyway.

"Everyone, don't rush. Let's give the hotel a little time"

"Caspar James, why do you keep taking the outsiders' side today?" Uncle Theo snapped. "These people only drove here to come to your wedding."

The moment he said it, the others turned on me too.

"Exactly. You didn't drive yourself, so you're happy to see our cars get siphoned, is that it?"

"Wait a minute the man getting married didn't drive?"

The instant those words landed, the whole room went dead silent.

Everyone was watching me now, faces dark and unreadable.

Someone folded his arms and looked me up and down. "Caspar, it's your wedding today. How come there's no wedding car out front?"

I choked down the panic.

"That, well something came up a few days ago. I sold the car."

"Something came up?" Cousin Blake let out a cold laugh. "I saw you making a scene at the gas station half a month ago"

"A scene?"

Autumn went rigid all at once.

"Didn't you tell me you had appendicitis and had to be hospitalized?"

Every eye was fixed on me, unblinking, and even the hotel manager was studying me now.

The officers pushed through the crowd and squeezed in.

"Mr. James, I'd like you to explain. What appendicitis, what gas station?"

There was nothing I could say.

Was I supposed to tell the officers that I'd already been through this exact thing, gas vanishing out of a car into thin air, and that I'd died over it once already?

The other officer suddenly gave a start. "I remember you. You're the one who got fined for stealing gas."

The crowd blew up on the spot.

They seemed to have found the source of the missing fuel, and every one of them turned the blame on me.

Some pointed and whispered. Some cursed openly.

Others shoved their phones right up in my face.

"Guys, you won't believe this, came to a wedding and the groom turns out to be a gas thief."

The phone light glanced into my eyes, and it was as if I'd gone back to my last life.

In that life, it started when Autumn's younger brother posted online calling me a cheap dog, a scheming man, and the whole internet came after me.

It dragged my parents down with it too, their house splashed with paint, whispers following them every time they went out.

"Caspar James, tell me straight. What is going on here?"

Autumn's eyes brimmed with tears as she stared at me, unable to believe it.

I shut my eyes, heavy, the whispers from the crowd all around me.

I'd tried so hard to break free of my fate. Why did every road just circle back to the same ending?

Was I, Caspar James, simply destined to be hounded to death online?

"Everyone, quiet down. We're going to question Mr. Caspar James and give you all an answer."

The two officers fought to hold order.

The older one watched me the way you'd watch a suspect. "Mr. James, come with us."

Was this just my fate?

Fine.

At this point, there was nothing left but to accept it.

They marched me toward the door, and I let them curse and shove their phones in my face.

Plenty of passersby were peering into the hotel out of curiosity, and even the five cats at the entrance were craning their necks to look inside.

The cats watched for a moment, then rose up together and filed past in front of me in a single line.

In that flash of a moment, I froze where I stood.

So the truth had been right beside me all along.