I woke up screaming.
Not the soft kind that dies in your throat.
The kind that rips out of you like something is still tearing you open.
My lungs burned as air crashed into them. My hands flew to my side...
I froze.
There was no knife. No blood. No warmth spreading beneath my fingers.
Nothing.
Slowly, trembling, I lifted my shirt.
And there it was.
A scar.
It was long, pale and healed?
Exactly where the blade had entered.
My stomach dropped so violently I thought I might be sick.
I pressed my fingers into it.
The skin was smooth. Old. Not fresh.
This wasn't from last night.
But I had died last night.
I remembered it.
The concrete floor.
The damp air.
Selina's voice.
Adrian's hand gripping my arm.
"Make it hurt."
My pulse roared in my ears.
I looked around my room like I expected the walls to melt.
My bedroom.
My apartment.
The pale curtains fluttering gently. The cracked mirror by the closet. The faint morning light spilling across the floor.
Alive.
I was alive.
I lunged for my phone.
The screen lit up.
10 February 2023.
My heart stopped.
The numbers on my phone glowed like they were mocking me.
10 February 2023.
Six months before the proposal.
One year before I married him.
Time hadn't healed me.
Time had rewound.
I stood slowly and walked to the mirror.
The girl staring back at me was softer.
Her eyes weren't shadowed the way they had been in my last days. There were no faint stress lines at the corners. No quiet exhaustion.
This was me before suspicion.
Before betrayal.
Before I learned how cold love could turn.
I touched my reflection.
"You died," I whispered.
The word didn't feel dramatic. It felt factual.
I turned on the bedside lamp and pressed my palm against the bulb's warm glass. The heat stung. I didn't pull away immediately.
Pain. This pain was very real. As real as the pain I felt while I was dying.
I walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.
Cold.
Real.
I gripped the sink and stared at myself again.
"If this is a second life," I murmured, "I won't waste it."
Not on blind trust.
Not on romantic illusions.
Not on them.
Three years before the underground room.
The door swung open without warning.
"Bri? What the hell was that?"
Celeste stood there in oversized sleep shorts and a tank top, her hair a mess, her face creased with concern.
She rushed toward me. "You sounded like you were being murdered."
I stared at her.
The word hit too close.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
She frowned. "You're shaking."
I hadn't noticed.
My hands were trembling violently.
Celeste stepped closer. "Did you have a nightmare?"
Nightmare.
If only.
I forced my breathing to steady. "Yeah."
"About Adrian?" she asked casually, leaning against my dresser.
That made me look at her sharply.
She raised a brow. "You've been nervous since he got back. You pretend you're not, but you are."
I remembered clearly who was there.
Me.
Adrian.
Selina.
The one who asked for me to be hurt more.
And that screaming voice.
"I'm not nervous," I said quietly.
She smirked. "Sure."
I lowered my shirt slowly.
She caught sight of the scar.
Her teasing expression vanished.
"What is that?"
I looked down like I hadn't already memorized it.
"I don't know."
She stepped closer, brushing her fingers lightly over it before I could stop her.
It sent a strange chill through me.
"That's not new," she murmured. "How do you not know where that came from?"
I swallowed.
Because I died.
But instead, I said, "Maybe I've had it longer than I thought."
She didn't look convinced.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Text message from Dad.
"Pumpkin, come to the house. There's a surprise for you."
My chest tightened.
Dad.
I'm alive. I'm breathing just fine, not panting or straining to breathe.
I hadn't realized how much the memory of losing everything had hollowed me until that moment.
"I'm going to the house," I said, already standing.
Celeste crossed her arms. "You're still going out with Adrian tonight, right?"
The question lingered.
Heavy.
"Yes," I said calmly.
She studied me for a second longer.
"You're acting weird."
"I had a bad dream."
She let out a breath. "Well, don't let it ruin today. He's crazy about you, Bri."
I almost laughed.
Crazy.
That was one word for it.
I went into the bathroom to take a shower.
When I stepped out of the bathroom dressed, Celeste was sitting cross-legged on the couch scrolling through her phone.
She glanced up.
"You look like you're about to go to war, not on a date."
I paused.
"Maybe dates are wars."
She snorted. "You're dramatic."
Am I?
I studied her casually.
Celeste had always been blunt. Honest. Protective in her own way. She wasn't the type to sugarcoat anything.
"You ever get the feeling," I asked carefully, "that something good might not be as good as it looks?"
She lowered her phone slowly.
"That's random."
"Just answer."
She leaned back. "If something feels wrong, it usually is. But you don't listen when it comes to Adrian."
Interesting. Her statement was not accusatory.
She was just observant.
"I listen," I said quietly.
She watched me for a moment, like she was trying to figure out what shifted overnight.
"Well," she said finally, standing up, "just don't lose yourself in him. I like you better when you're you."
That line lingered.
I filed it away.
The drive to my parents' house felt unreal.
Every traffic light. Every pedestrian. Every ordinary detail felt like something I had already lived through.
Because I had.
When I pulled into the driveway, Selina's car was already there.
Of course it was.
I stepped out slowly.
The air felt colder than it should have.
I rang the bell.
Dad opened the door instantly.
"Pumpkin!"
His arms wrapped around me before I could brace myself.
This was my dad. Solid. Definitely warm and real.
For one dangerous second, my composure cracked.
I hugged him back harder than usual.
He laughed. "Easy, I'm not going anywhere."
If only you knew, Dad. If only you did.
Mom appeared behind him, smiling. "Let the poor girl breathe."
When Mom hugged me, I held on longer than usual.
She pulled back slightly. "Everything okay?"
I smiled, but my throat tightened unexpectedly.
"I just… appreciate you."
Dad laughed from behind us. "Appreciation speech and the day hasn't even started?"
I turned toward him and wrapped my arms around him again.
If time could rewind, then moments mattered differently.
I memorized the way he smelled like aftershave and engine oil.
The way Mom's bracelets clicked when she moved.
The sound of the wind chime outside the kitchen window.
If I had been erased once, I wouldn't take any of it for granted again.
Selina's voice drifted from the staircase.
"Sweet Sabrina."
I turned.
She descended gracefully, perfectly styled as always.
My sister.
My executioner.
And she looked at me like she loved me.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Good," I replied smoothly.
Her smile widened. "You look different."
"So do you."
She laughed lightly, not catching the weight behind my words.
Dad clapped his hands together. "Alright, everyone. The surprise should be here."
Selina watched us quietly.
Her smile was still there.
But she noticed the extra seconds.
She always noticed.
There was a knock at the door.
My body went rigid before I could stop it.
Mom beamed. "That must be him."
Him.
The door opened.
"Angel."
The sound of his voice felt like ice poured down my spine.
Adrian stepped inside with effortless charm, tall and composed, dressed perfectly as always.
He smiled at my parents.
At Selina.
At me.
He looked exactly like the man I once trusted with my entire heart.
His hands were behind his back.
I already knew what was coming.
He brought them forward.
A box of chocolate-covered strawberries.
Pink roses.
History, repeating itself.
I stepped forward calmly and took the strawberries first.
"My favorite."
His eyes softened like they used to.
Then I took the roses.
I let my fingers brush over the petals.
"Pink roses," I said lightly. "Selina loves these."
Silence.
Tiny.
Sharp.
Selina blinked.
Adrian's expression didn't change, but I saw it - the flicker.
Quick.
Controlled.
"I saw them at the florist and thought they were beautiful," he said smoothly.
"They are. Thank you," I replied.
Mom clasped her hands together. "He's so thoughtful. Let me help you put them in a vase."
Thoughtful.
Yes.
He remembered details very well.
He remembered how to blindfold me gently.
He remembered how to whisper "trust me".
He remembered how to ask if it should hurt more.
Adrian stepped closer and took my hand.
His touch was warm.
Familiar yet like undetected poison.
"You seem quiet," he murmured.
"I'm thinking," I replied.
"About?"
I held his gaze steadily.
"About second chances."
His brows drew together slightly. "Second chances?"
I smiled.
"Just a thought."
Selina was watching us carefully now.
Not smiling quite as easily.
Not as relaxed.
Good.
Let them feel something shift.
Because something had shifted.
Three years ago, I walked toward my fate blindly.
This time, I was awake.
This time, I remembered.
Every word.
Every betrayal.
Every smile.
And I would not die quietly again.
Not for him.
Not for her.
Not for anyone.
I intertwined my fingers with Adrian's and looked up at him sweetly.
"Shall we go?"
He smiled back.
Selina's gaze followed us.
My parents waved happily.
And as we stepped out of the house together, I felt it settle inside me -
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Purpose.
They thought they were walking me toward destiny.
They had no idea I had already seen the ending.
And this time…
I was writing a different one.
The last time I got into a car with him, I never came back.
This time, as he opened the passenger door for me, I paused just slightly.
He noticed that too.
"You okay?" he asked.
I slid into the seat and looked up at him calmly.
"I'm perfect."
And for the first time since waking up, I wasn't afraid but they should be. I smiled as the door closed.
Yes, they should be very afraid.