Liora grunted as her eyes fluttered open, lids heavy like they'd been stitched shut for days. Light poured in like a waterfall from the grand windows to her left, washing the room in a soft golden hue. She blinked, groggy and disoriented. The first thing she saw was her hand, resting delicately on her lap—
Only it wasn't her usual denim-clad thigh she was seeing.
"What the hell…" she mumbled, eyes growing wider. Her hand was resting on an enormous expanse of white satin, intricately embroidered with pearls and lace. The fabric shimmered with every movement.
"A dress?" she croaked out, eyebrows knitting. "Since when do I wear a freaking wedding dress?"
She'd been in jeans—yes, jeans—when she stormed out of the house. Her brain felt like it was buffering. Her heart began to race.
And then it hit her.
The divorce paper. The confrontation with Elias. Her storming out. The freaking car. The punks. The knife.
She gasped and clutched her neck, trembling fingers searching for a wound.
Nothing.
No blood.
No pain.
No scar.
"What the actual fu—"
"Are you alright?" a low, composed voice asked beside her.
Liora yelped, her entire body jolting as she whipped her head to the side.
There he was.
Elias Woods.
Sitting. Calm. Perfectly groomed. He had the tux on, neat and classic, with that white flower pinned just right.
Her mouth dropped open like a fish pulled from water. Panic flooded her veins. She screamed and bolted upright from her seat, knocking the chair back with a loud screech.
The soft murmurs in the room shifted into hushed whispers and startled glances. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears.
"What the hell is going on?" she muttered, spinning around in place like a malfunctioning Roomba.
There were people—everywhere. Women in pastel dresses, men in tailored suits. Flowers adorned every surface. Creamy roses, baby's breath, and ribbons the shade of blush. The air smelled like lavender and something expensive.
"Oh. My. God."
She turned to Elias again, who stood now, trying to discreetly reach for her arm.
"Liora," he hissed under his breath, "You're making a scene."
She backed away like he was contagious. "A scene? A scene? I just came back from the freaking dead!"
He blinked, completely unamused. "Excuse me?"
She ignored him, her hands flying to her face. Her eyes. Her nose. Her cheeks. Her lips. All still there. Her skin smooth. No makeup ruined from tears. No blood. No horror.
Her breathing hitched as she looked down again at the dress. The dress. She turned in place to stare at the room. Then again at Elias.
"No," she muttered, clutching her head. "No, no, no. This—this isn't possible. This is…"
And then it clicked.
Her wedding day.
Her freaking wedding day.
This wasn't just a random day from her past. This was the day. The day she was forced to replace Hanna. The day her life began to spiral.
"I went back in time…" she whispered, eyes wide. "Holy shit. I went back in time."
Someone from the side—an elderly aunt, maybe—leaned over to someone else and muttered, "Nerves, poor thing. She must be overwhelmed."
"I'm not overwhelmed, I'm time traveling!" Liora snapped before slapping both her cheeks. "Okay, okay, calm down, calm down. This is fine. I'm fine. Totally sane."
Elias stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You need to sit down. People are watching."
"No," she waved her hands, panicking. "Don't you see what's happening? You—you just gave me divorce papers and I died. I died, Elias. Like, throat slashed in a mugging kind of died."
His brow furrowed slightly. "Are you drunk?"
"Do I look drunk to you?!"
He glanced at the stunned guests, then leaned in, voice clipped. "You're acting hysterical."
"You're hysterical," she shot back, jabbing a finger into his tuxedo. "This is all your fault!"
Someone in the back cleared their throat politely. A photographer. Liora turned to find him trying to subtly capture the moment while pretending nothing was wrong.
"Right," she muttered. "Smile for the cursed wedding photos."
Elias exhaled sharply through his nose. "I know this whole wedding thing freak you out. But can you just calm down? We'll talk about this later."
"Oh, now you want to talk? Where was all this when you handed me divorce papers like they were a holiday greeting card?"
He stared at her blankly.
Liora stared back. Then finally let out a long groan and plopped back down onto the chair like her strings had been cut.
The world felt unreal. The background noise returned to muted chatter. Everything around her sparkled with celebration, but all she could think of was the blood on her neck and the weight of that final breath.
A second chance. A literal second chance.
Her hands balled into fists in her lap as she glanced sidelong at Elias, who had gone back to pretending everything was normal.
As much as she was grateful for this impossible, ridiculous second chance, Liora couldn't help the bitter twist in her stomach. Out of all the days to return to, why did it have to be this one? The beginning of her marriage—the very day her life took the first step toward unraveling. The lies, the betrayal, the humiliation—she'd have to live through all of it again.
Or… would she?
A slow, almost dangerous smile tugged at the corner of her lips. No, she didn't have to go through it the same way. She wasn't the same clueless, naive bride anymore. She had the cheat sheet now. Every heartbreak, every manipulation, every secret—they were all already written in her memory. This time, she had the upper hand.
So why freak out?
"Hoho," she chuckled under her breath, earning a sideways glance from Elias.
Not this time, she thought. This time, I'm not going to be only the substitute. I'm done being the backup plan. And I'm definitely not going to end up dead in a ditch.
She sat up straighter, rolled her shoulders back, and forced the most blindingly fake smile onto her face.
Elias glanced at her suspiciously. "What's with that expression?"
"Oh, nothing," she chirped. "Just excited to be your wife."
Again.
He blinked.
She beamed. Game on, husband.