Aarika jolted awake, chest rising with shallow, rapid breaths. The sun filtered softly through white linen curtains, casting warm patterns across the room.
She was no longer in a hospital.
She sat up abruptly, hand flying to her stomach. The curve beneath her palm confirmed it.
She was pregnant. Still.
The room around her was achingly familiar—her old apartment. Not the luxurious penthouse Zayden bought after their marriage. This was the space she had lived in five years ago, before it all began.
Her eyes swept over the details. The stack of business plans on her desk. The still-alive bonsai tree in the corner. The calendar on the wall read: March 14th. She was three months pregnant. Exactly where she had been when her world started falling apart.
She stumbled out of bed, heart pounding. The reflection in the mirror showed a woman younger, untouched by grief. No tear tracks, no sunken eyes. It was her—but not the Aarika who died.
Was it real? Had she been given a second chance?
And then she heard it again.
Mission Activated: Leave Zayden within 30 days.
She didn't know if she was hallucinating. She didn't care.
She smiled. A slow, cold smile.
This time, she would write the ending.