Chapter 2
Ethan jerked awake, heart pounding. His lungs dragged in air as though he had been drowning.
He sat up too fast, staring around in disbelief.
The cracked ceiling. The peeling paint of his bedroom walls. The faint hum of the city outside.
His apartment.
His hands flew over his body. Skin. Whole. No burns. No blood. No fire.
But he remembered it all—the suffocating smoke, Jason's screams, the explosion ripping through the garage. The bag. The body of the woman in white. His last thought had been of Lily.
Lily.
The door creaked, and a small figure padded into the room.
"Brother?"
His breath caught in his throat.
There she was. Lily. Alive.
She stood in the doorway in her faded pajamas, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. Her hair was messy from sleep, and she dragged her feet the way she always had when she was tired.
She was walking. Whole. Uninjured. Just as she had been before the accident.
"Brother, I can't sleep," she mumbled, her voice soft.
Ethan was already on his feet. He crossed the room in two steps and scooped her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.
Her warmth. Her heartbeat. Her scent of milk and soap.
He squeezed tighter, unable to stop the tears burning his eyes.
"Brother, you're squeezing me!" she squeaked, wriggling.
He loosened his grip just enough to kiss her cheek, then hugged her again as though she might vanish if he let go.
"Stop squishing me!" Lily protested, her laugh muffled against his shirt.
Ethan finally set her down, brushing her messy hair from her face with trembling fingers. His throat was too tight to speak.
She padded over to the worn chair in the corner and plopped down, curling up with a yawn. "I need to sleep. I've got school tomorrow."
Ethan froze. School?
In his memories, Lily had stopped going to school after the accident. After the car had taken away her smile, her freedom, her laughter.
His eyes darted to the wall.
The calendar hung there, crooked as always. His chest tightened as he read the date.
February, 2022.
That was four years ago.
"Brother, aren't you going to sleep? You've got work tomorrow," Lily mumbled, half-asleep.
"Work?" The word scraped his throat. He had lost his last job, fired for skipping too many shifts while he sat by Lily's hospital bed.
But here… Lily was fine. Alive. Healthy. Complaining like any other child.
She yawned again, eyes fluttering shut. "Mhm. Don't stay up too late."
Within moments, her soft breaths filled the room.
Ethan stood frozen, staring at her fragile frame curled on the chair. His fists clenched.
Was it all a dream? No. It felt too real. The fire, the screams, the pain—it was real.
But here she was. His Lily.
His eyes burned as he whispered to the silent room, a vow etched into his soul.
"I don't care if this is a dream or a miracle. You're here, and you're safe. That's all that matters. This time, Lily… I'll protect you. Whatever it takes."
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Morning sunlight spilled across the room, pale gold filtering through the curtains.
Ciara stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her hands moved slowly as she brushed her long hair, each stroke deliberate. The woman who stared back at her looked the same as before—soft eyes, delicate features, a bride in the glow of her wedding.
But inside, she was not the same woman.
Not anymore.
"I will never be as stupid as before," she whispered to the mirror.
The first thing she had to do was change her next of kin. The second—divorce that scumbag before he dragged her and her family into ruin again.
Her phone lay silent on the dresser. She picked it up, checking for messages. Nothing.
Just as she remembered.
In her past life, Victor hadn't spent their wedding night with her. He had come home the following morning reeking of alcohol, brushing her off with a flimsy excuse about his friends dragging him to a bar.
A bitter smile curved her lips. History repeats itself.
The door clicked open.
Victor entered, just as she remembered—tie loosened, shirt wrinkled, the sharp scent of alcohol clinging to him. He smiled faintly, trying for charm as he sank onto the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry, my love. I wasn't here." His voice was smooth, practiced. "Are you angry? you have every right to be, but I'll make it up to you."
He reached for her, arms sliding to embrace her from behind.
Ciara sidestepped neatly, avoiding his touch. "It's fine."
Victor blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes. He studied her carefully, as though sensing something was different.
"Are you… going out?" His gaze swept over her from head to toe, taking in the elegant long dress she had chosen.
"Yes," Ciara said coolly, slipping her earrings on. "I'm going to see my parents."
Victor's smile faltered. "Why?"
She turned, arching a brow. "Do I need a reason to see my parents?"
"Of course not," he said quickly, forcing a smile. "I just thought—never mind. Fine. Wait for me, and let's go together."
"No." The word snapped from her lips before she could stop it.
Victor's brows shot up, stunned. Ciara drew in a slow breath, softening her expression. She crossed the room and touched his hand lightly, her smile sweet but practiced.
"You don't have to stress yourself," she said smoothly. "I'll be back soon."
His eyes searched hers. "You're sure?"
"Yes. I am."
With that, she turned and left the room, her steps calm, her mask unshakable.
But inside, her heart pounded.
If she wanted to escape their clutches, she would need to move carefully. She couldn't let them notice her changes too soon.
Sliding into her car, she gripped the steering wheel, her jaw set.
This time, I won't be blind. This time, I'll protect my family—and myself.
The engine roared to life, and she drove off toward the one place she could still find warmth: her parents.