Leong woke earlier than usual the next morning, long before the sunlight crept through the edge of his curtains. His body felt tense, as if even sleep could no longer quiet the storm inside him. The events of the previous day—the confrontation with Mei Lin at the café, the shocking revelation that Vincent might be involved again, and the unexpected comfort he found in Fatma's gentle presence—kept replaying in loops.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands.
Hands that once signed away his savings for a woman who never loved him.
Hands that once trusted the wrong people and paid the ultimate price.
Hands that now trembled not from fear, but from the anticipation of a man determined to rewrite everything.
"Not this lifetime," he muttered under his breath. "Not again."
Leong changed quickly and stepped out of his apartment, the crisp morning air brushing against his skin. On his way downstairs, he replayed part of the conversation with Fatma from the previous night—the softness of her voice, the sincerity in her eyes when she told him he deserved better.
Deserved better.
The phrase still felt foreign.
He had always been the one giving, forgiving, bending—until he broke.
But this time, someone actually cared whether he was okay.
And that someone wasn't the woman he once ruined himself for.
The office was unusually quiet when Leong arrived. He liked it this way; silence felt clean, unlike the messy noise he used to drown in. He slid into his seat, pulled out his laptop, and forced his mind into work. The new project outline sat at the top of his inbox—a project he knew would eventually lead to the major opportunity he had missed in the previous timeline.
He had no intention of letting it slip this time.
As he typed, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. A familiar figure hesitated at the hallway—Fatma. She wasn't holding coffee today. Instead, she had a small folder hugged tightly to her chest, her expression conflicted.
Leong stood up and walked over.
"You're here early," she said softly, offering a small smile.
"So are you," he replied. "What's that?"
She hesitated before handing him the folder. "I… uh… I thought you might need this. It's the data you asked for yesterday. I organized everything the way you prefer."
Leong opened the folder. The files were labeled neatly, color-coded, and summarized. In his past life, he never noticed how hard she worked. How much effort she put into things. How much she quietly supported him, even when he didn't deserve it.
"Thank you," he said quietly, genuinely. "You always go above expectations."
Her cheeks warmed. "I just want to help."
She looked down for a second, fingers twisting nervously before she finally took a breath.
"Leong… I know something's bothering you. You've been different lately. If you ever want to talk—"
Before she could finish, a loud clicking of heels echoed through the hallway.
Leong didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
Mei Lin.
And like a shadow returning to stain the morning light, she approached with a sweetness in her tone that made his skin crawl.
"There you are, darling," she said, as if she had every right to call him that. "I've been looking for you."
Fatma immediately stepped aside. Her eyes dimmed, though she tried not to show it.
Leong's jaw tightened. "Don't call me that."
Mei Lin's smile strained for a second, then returned with practiced charm. "Can we talk? Alone?"
"No," he said, without hesitation.
A flicker of shock crossed her face—not because he rejected her, but because he did it in front of someone else.
"We have nothing to talk about," Leong added.
Mei Lin leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Leong… please. It's important."
He recognized the tone. The same tone she used before she tricked him into lending her money. The same tone she'd used before disappearing with Vincent.
This time, he didn't flinch.
"If it's important," he said calmly, "you can say it here."
Fatma's eyes widened slightly. She had never seen him like this—steady, unshakable.
Mei Lin inhaled sharply. "Fine. Tonight, the café we used to go to. Seven o'clock. Come. Please."
Leong shook his head. "I'm not going."
She swallowed, frustration slipping through the cracks. "Just show up. Or you'll regret it."
Without waiting for an answer, she walked away, heels hammering her irritation into the floor.
The moment she disappeared around the corner, Fatma exhaled a breath she'd been holding.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to—"
"You did nothing wrong," he interrupted. "I appreciate you being here."
She looked up. "Are you… okay?"
Leong studied her eyes—eyes that held no lies, no hidden motives, no ambition to use him.
"I will be," he said. "And I won't let her pull me back."
Fatma nodded, relief softening her features.
"Let me know if you need anything," she whispered.
Her sincerity grounded him more than anything else that morning.
Hours passed. Work kept Leong's mind occupied, but as evening approached, unease twisted in his chest. He wasn't going to the café, but something Mei Lin said kept echoing:
You'll regret it.
Not because she wanted reconciliation.
No, Mei Lin never did anything without a reason.
She had leverage. Or thought she did.
And if Vincent was involved…
Leong's phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
He frowned but answered.
"Is this Leong?" a man's voice asked.
"Yes."
"This is from the bank. There was an attempt earlier today to access your old savings account. Someone provided partial information but failed the verification."
Leong's blood turned cold.
Old savings account.
The account he lost in the previous life.
The account he had kept untouched in this life.
"Did they say who they were?" Leong asked.
"They claimed to be your partner."
Partner.
His grip tightened.
"Thank you for notifying me," he said, ending the call.
Mei Lin.
Or Vincent.
Or the same scheme beginning all over again.
But this time he wasn't walking into their trap blind.
He checked the time.
6:30 p.m.
He still wasn't going to the café—but he needed to know what game they were playing.
After work, Leong walked out of the building, but someone was waiting by the entrance.
Fatma.
She held her bag nervously, stepping toward him.
"I… I know you said you weren't going," she said, "but I was worried. I didn't want you to deal with this alone."
Leong hesitated.
In his first life… no one had ever stood beside him like this.
"No," he said softly. "I'm glad you're here."
Fatma blinked, surprised by the warmth in his voice. "Then… maybe we can get dinner? Somewhere far from that café?"
Leong almost smiled. "Yeah. I'd like that."
But just as they started walking, a motorcycle sped past the street—too fast, too close, reckless.
In that split second, Leong saw something glint in the rider's hand.
A phone.
Pointed at him.
No—at Fatma beside him.
He stepped protectively in front of her, instincts from his previous life kicking in.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He didn't answer. He scanned the street, but the motorcycle was already gone.
A sickening suspicion filled his chest.
In his past life, Mei Lin and Vincent didn't just scam him—they used him. They collected photos, evidence, twisted narratives to ruin his reputation once he ran out of money.
If they couldn't get money from him this time…
Would they try to ruin him again?
Or worse… ruin the people around him?
"Leong?" Fatma whispered.
He turned to her, voice steady but tense.
"Stay close to me. Something's not right."
She nodded, worry clouding her eyes.
Without another word, he guided her to a quieter street, away from any possible danger.
They ended up in a small, cozy restaurant tucked between two old buildings. Warm lights glowed from the windows, and soft music played in the background. It was peaceful—a stark contrast to the storm outside his life.
They ordered quickly, but neither touched their food.
Fatma watched him carefully. "You don't have to tell me everything… but I can see you're scared. Not for yourself, but for someone else."
Leong's throat tightened.
She was right.
"You might think I'm crazy," he said, "but I think someone is trying to pull me into a trap."
Fatma didn't flinch. "I believe you."
"You do?"
"Yes." Her voice was firm. "I've seen the way that woman looks at you. It isn't love. It's possession. And people like that… they don't give up easily."
Leong stared at her, speechless.
Because she understood.
Because she saw clearly what he once couldn't.
After a moment, Fatma reached across the table and gently touched his hand.
"You're not alone anymore."
Her touch was warm—grounding.
Something in his chest loosened for the first time in days.
"Thank you," he whispered.
But before the moment could settle, his phone vibrated again.
A message.
From an unknown number.
He opened it.
A single photo.
Taken minutes ago.
Of him and Fatma walking out of the office.
His hand near hers.
His body shielding her.
And a caption:
If you don't come tonight, we'll make sure she becomes part of the story too.
Leong froze.
Fatma noticed the shift in his expression. "What happened?"
He slowly turned the phone so she could see.
Her face drained of color.
"But… why me? I've never done anything to them."
"That's exactly why," Leong said softly, fury and fear twisting inside him. "Because they know you matter to me."
Fatma's breath trembled. "What do we do?"
Leong took a deep breath.
He couldn't run.
He couldn't hide.
He couldn't let them drag Fatma into the hell he once lived through.
"It's time," he said quietly, eyes sharpening with determination. "Time to end this before it begins."
Fatma swallowed. "You're going to meet them."
"Yes."
"I'm coming with you."
"No." His voice was firm. "I won't risk you."
But Fatma shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes—not of fear, but of frustration.
"You don't get to protect everyone alone," she said. "Not anymore."
Leong looked at her, truly looked at her—the woman who had silently cared for him through two lifetimes without even knowing it.
He exhaled slowly.
And for the first time, Leong realized something the past version of himself never understood.
Strength wasn't just fighting alone.
Sometimes, strength was letting someone stand beside you.
"We'll go together," he said.
Fatma took his hand, gripping it tightly. "Then I'll stay by your side."
And as they rose from the table, walking into the night toward the trap waiting for them, Leong felt something shift.
This time, he wasn't the broken man walking toward betrayal.
He was the man who remembered.
The man who learned.
The man who was finally choosing the right person.
And this lifetime…
He wasn't going to lose her.