Warmth.
That was the first thing Mei Lin noticed. Warmth against her back, solid and real.
I'm not cold anymore.
The thought drifted through her mind slowly, like smoke. The hospital had been so cold. The rain had been cold. The darkness of death had been-
Her eyes snapped open.
Soft morning light filtered through sheer curtains, casting everything in a golden glow. She stared at an unfamiliar ceiling-no, wait. Not unfamiliar. Familiar. White with delicate crown molding, an expensive crystal chandelier catching the light.
She knew this ceiling.
Her heart began to pound.
Mei Lin turned her head slowly, afraid of what she'd see. Afraid she was dreaming. Afraid she wasn't.
He was there. Lying beside her, still asleep, his dark hair slightly mussed against the white pillow. Kai Zhang. Her husband. His face was peaceful in sleep, younger somehow, the harsh lines that had become so familiar softened.
No. This isn't possible.
She sat up too fast. The room spun. She gripped the silk sheets-burgundy silk sheets she remembered buying seven years ago, excitedly preparing the bedroom for their wedding night-and stared around the room in growing horror.
The Zhang mansion master bedroom. Every detail exactly as she remembered it from... from when?
Her hands. She looked down at her hands. Smooth skin, no IV bruises. No hospital wristband. Her fingers trembled as she touched her face, her arms, her chest where the pain had been during those final moments on the train.
Nothing. No pain. No weakness. She felt... healthy. Strong. Alive.
What's happening?
The man beside her stirred. Mei Lin froze, watching as Kai's eyes opened slowly. For a moment, he looked at her with an expression she'd never seen before-soft, unguarded, almost tender. Then he blinked and sat up, the cold mask sliding into place so smoothly she wondered if she'd imagined that brief flash of warmth.
"Good morning." His voice was deep, controlled. The voice of a man who'd learned early not to let emotions show. "Did you sleep well?"
Mei Lin couldn't speak. Could only stare at him. He looked... different. Younger. His face hadn't yet acquired those deep lines of stress around his eyes and mouth. His shoulders seemed less rigid, as if he hadn't yet carried the weight of whatever had made him so cold in their later years.
How much younger?
"Mei Lin?" He was frowning now, concern flickering across his features before disappearing. "Are you alright? You look pale."
"What..." She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "What day is it?"
His frown deepened. "It's Sunday. The day after..." He paused, something unreadable in his dark eyes. "The day after our wedding."
No.
No, no, no.
"What date?" Her voice came out harsh, desperate. "What's the date?"
Now he looked genuinely worried. He reached toward her, and she flinched back instinctively. His hand froze midair, and something that might have been hurt flashed across his face before the mask returned.
"It's the fifteenth." His tone was careful now, as if talking to someone fragile. "Are you feeling unwell? Should I call Dr. Chen?"
The fifteenth. Mei Lin knew that date. It was burned into her memory because it was the day her life had ended and her prison had begun.
Seven years ago.
The room tilted. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to understand what was happening. Was she dreaming? Was this some kind of hallucination? Had she died on that train and this was... what? Heaven? Hell?
This has to be a dream. A nightmare.
"Mei Lin." Kai's voice was closer now. She felt the mattress dip as he moved toward her. "You're scaring me. What's wrong?"
She laughed. Actually laughed, a broken, bitter sound that made him recoil. "What's wrong? What's WRONG?"
Her voice was rising, hysteria creeping in. She couldn't stop it. "I died. I died on a train after signing divorce papers because I spent seven years loving you and you never-"
She cut herself off, breathing hard. Kai was staring at her like she'd lost her mind.
Maybe she had.
"Divorce papers?" His voice was quiet, dangerous in a way she'd never heard before. "What are you talking about?"
Mei Lin looked at him-really looked at him. At the confusion in his dark eyes. At the way his jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking. At the tension in his shoulders that suggested he was holding himself very, very still.
He doesn't know. Of course he doesn't know. It hasn't happened yet.
Because if this was real-if she was really here, seven years in the past-then none of it had happened yet. The cold distance. The late nights. Xiao-mei Liu. The betrayal. The slow death of hope.
None of it.
She had a choice.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. She could change it. Could change everything. Could refuse to be that naive girl who gave up her dreams for a man who would break her heart piece by piece over seven years.
She could leave.
"Mei Lin." Kai's hand touched her shoulder gently. She jerked away from the contact like it burned. His hand dropped, and she saw him flinch. "Please. Talk to me. What's happening?"
What could she say? That she'd lived through seven years of this marriage already? That she knew exactly how it would end-with her broken and alone, believing he'd never loved her? That she'd rather die than go through it again?
"I..." Her voice cracked. She steadied it, forced the words out. "I need to be alone."
"Mei Lin-"
"Please." She couldn't look at him. Couldn't bear to see that expression on his face—confusion, concern, maybe even hurt. It was easier when he was cold. When she could hate him. "Just... go. Please."
For a long moment, he didn't move. She could feel him watching her, could sense the tension radiating from him. Then he stood, the mattress shifting with his weight.
"Alright." His voice was carefully neutral. "I'll be in my study if you need me. Take your time."
She heard him move around the room, getting dressed. The rustle of fabric. The soft click of the bathroom door. The sound of water running. She kept her face buried in her hands, breathing through the panic, through the impossible reality of this situation.
When she finally looked up, he was standing by the door, fully dressed in casual clothes-dark jeans and a white button-down that made him look younger, less severe. He was watching her with an expression she couldn't read.
"Whatever this is," he said quietly, "we'll figure it out. Together."
Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.
Together. What a joke. There was no together. There had never been together in their marriage. Just him, distant and cold, and her, desperately trying to bridge a gap that only grew wider with each passing year.
Mei Lin looked around the room again, taking in every detail. The burgundy silk sheets. The crystal chandelier. The wedding dress hanging in the open closet—white lace and silk, the most beautiful thing she'd ever worn, chosen with such hope and excitement.
She'd worn it yesterday. Or seven years ago. Or both.
Her head hurt.
She needed to think. Needed to figure out what to do. If this was real—and the solid weight of the bed beneath her, the lingering scent of his cologne in the air, the bright sunlight streaming through the windows all suggested it was-then she had been given an impossible gift.
A second chance.
The question was: what would she do with it?
One thing was certain. She wouldn't make the same mistakes again. Wouldn't sacrifice her dreams, her identity, her entire self for a man who would never love her back.
This time, things would be different.
This time, Mei Lin Chen would choose herself.
***
Kai stood outside the bedroom door, his hand still on the handle, trying to process what had just happened.
Divorce papers. Seven years. She'd said she died.
His wife of exactly one day had just told him she died after seven years of marriage to him.
She's having some kind of breakdown. That was the only logical explanation. The stress of the wedding, maybe. Or second thoughts. Or-
But the look in her eyes. The absolute certainty. The pain.
He'd never seen anyone look so devastated, so broken. And when she'd flinched away from his touch, as if his hand on her shoulder had hurt her...
What did I do?
The question whispered through his mind, irrational but persistent. In her mind—in whatever nightmare she was experiencing-what had he done to her over those seven years?
Kai pressed his forehead against the door, closing his eyes. He'd been so careful. So controlled. Hadn't pushed her, hadn't demanded anything, had given her space on their wedding night even though every instinct had screamed at him to reach for her, to hold her, to show her how much he-
No. He couldn't think like that. Couldn't let himself feel that. He'd learned long ago that showing emotion was weakness, that letting people see what you felt gave them power over you.
But Mei Lin wasn't people. She was his wife.
And she looked at him like he was a monster.
He pushed away from the door, walking down the hallway toward his study with measured steps. Every instinct told him to go back, to demand answers, to fix whatever was wrong.
But he'd seen the fear in her eyes. The way she'd pulled away from him.
So he'd give her space. Give her time.
And hope that whatever nightmare she was living through in her mind, she'd find her way back from it.
Back to him.