I didn't wake up screaming.
I woke up quiet — like the world hadn't killed me once before.
The ceiling above me was pale grey, familiar, cracked near the corner like a memory that refused to disappear completely. My breath came slow. My body felt… younger. Lighter. Not damaged.
My fingers clenched into the bedsheet.
This wasn't the hospital room where I died.
This was my hostel bed.
Virel Institute of Design.
Second year.
Two years before him.
My heart started hammering.
I stood up, legs slightly trembling, and walked to the mirror.
No scars.
No wedding ring mark.
No dark circles from nights of crying.
Just me.
Just Aria.
Alive.
The memories rushed in like flooded corridors.
Cold dinners.
Silent stares.
His voice — always calm, always controlling.
"You'll get used to it."
I swallowed hard.
No.
Not this time.
My phone vibrated on the desk beside me.
I hesitated.
Then looked at the screen.
Unknown Number:
You forgot your sketch portfolio yesterday.
My breath froze.
I knew this number.
I stared at the message for a long moment, my blood turning ice.
He never texted me first in our first life.
Not until much later.
Slowly, I typed back:
Me:I don't remember giving you my number.
Three dots…Typing…
Stopped.
Started again….
Finally:
Unknown: You don't remember a lot of things yet.
My chest tightened.
I looked outside the window of my dorm.
Below, near the architecture block entrance…
Kaelen Rourke stood.
Waiting.
And somehow…
I knew.He remembered me too.