My heart is dead. My breathing grows weaker, and my vision is turning to fog. Right then, I feel it ,my child… fading. I don't just sense it,I hear it. That final cry. Sad, painful, mournful.
No, no, please…
The darkness swallows me whole, like a bottomless pit. There's no ground beneath me. I'm just falling. Cold. Empty. Hopeless.
God… I don't want to die like this!
I scream it, from the depths of my soul. My mouth doesn't move, but inside, I'm crying out, pleading.
Please… I've never done anything wrong.
It's not fair. I never hurt anyone. Why me? Why do I have to suffer while these monsters laugh at my pain?
Why does she get to take everything from me and I'm the one who has to die?
Why does my baby have to die too?
But no one answers.
I grow weaker, slipping, fading. My memories… they're vanishing one by one, like they're being pulled from me. Every moment, every smile, every tear erased.
Even my name.
I'm becoming… nothing.
"God… please…" I beg, though I can't hear my own voice. "Don't let me disappear. I prayed to You."
"I don't want to die like this. Please, don't end my life…"
Then a voice cuts through the void.
"There's a law to everything in the world. My girl… your life shouldn't have ended this way. I'll help you…"
A glimmer. A sliver of hope.
"God is willing to give me a second chance, right?"
"Revenge… revenge!" I scream, the fury rising from the depths of hell inside me.
"Then go back to where you belong."
The voice fades, but something pierces me a cold needle, stabbing through the numbness.
Suddenly, my body is alive. Every cell in me sparks with sensation. My memories flood back slowly, like warm water seeping into frozen limbs.
When I open my eyes… I'm lying on a soft bed.
My bed.
I bolt upright, heart pounding. I'm in my room. The curtains, the scent of jasmine, the faint humming of the air conditioner it's all here. Is this heaven?
Did God hear me? Did He really give me a second chance?
I glance at the dresser. The wedding photo is still there ,me and Damian. I'm smiling, leaning into his shoulder.
That smile. That moment. It makes me want to tear the frame apart.
I look around again. Silk sheets. The thick rug. Every familiar thing.
To be sure it's real, I run my fingers over the bedside table. It's solid. Tangible.
Ghosts pass through things… but I can touch everything.
This isn't a dream. I… I'm reborn.
Just then, the door swings open. Damian steps in, dressed in a black suit and tie.
His face hardens when he sees me.
"Why aren't you dressed?" he snaps.
I just stare at him.
This man… this traitor. The one who buried me alive.
Every part of me wants to slap him. Right now. Right here.
He points to a black dress folded beside me. "Are you going to the funeral in pajamas? The doctor said you're fine. It's your best friend's husband's funeral. Are you seriously not going?"
Funeral? My ears catch the word.
"Ethan's funeral! He's dead!" he barks, tossing the dress at me. "You have three minutes to get changed."
He storms out, slamming the door behind him.
I sit, frozen.
Ethan… is dead?
I fumble for my bag, shaking. My hands dig for my phone. The last date I remember was June 13, 2023,my fifth wedding anniversary with Damian.
My fingers wrap around the device. I pull it out.
The screen lights up: June 6.
A whole week before the anniversary.
"No…" I whisper. "It's not possible."
I blink again and again.
I didn't remember these details in my past life. Is God playing with me?
I sit in a daze, heart racing.
Then Damian knocks again, sharp and cold. "Are you ready? The car's waiting."
His voice grates against my skull.
I glance at the dress. I glance at the door. I can feel his impatience even without seeing him.
I pull the dress on quickly and open the door. He grabs my wrist, dragging me downstairs with a grip too tight to be caring.
In the car, silence wraps around us like ice.
I catch the scent of his cologne expensive, laced with faint tobacco. His heartbeat is calm. Too calm.
Like nothing happened.
We arrive at the funeral.
Every face… familiar.
Everyone I once loved. Everyone I once hated. They're all here, painted in black.
The men stand solemn. The women wear modest veils. And when they see me, they bow slightly.
"Mrs. Westwood."
Like they used to. Like nothing ever happened.
As I walk through the crowd, I notice the whispers and glances. They're all watching me, the widow of Damian Westwood. I can sense their curiosity, their speculation. What do they know about my return? Do they suspect anything?
But I'm not here to catch up with old friends. I'm here for one reason: revenge. I scan the crowd, searching for the faces that matter. The ones who betrayed me, who hurt me. My eyes land on a figure standing near the back, watching me with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
Damian's business partner, Marcus. I remember the way he smiled at me, the way he pretended to care. But behind closed doors, he was just as ruthless as Damian.
I make my way toward him, my heart pounding in my chest. As I approach, he nods, a slight smile on his face. "Rhea, it's good to see you're doing better."
I take a deep breath, letting my anger simmer just below the surface. "Thank you, Marcus. I'm... getting by."
The words feel like ash in my mouth, but I force them out. For now, I need to play the part. I need to pretend I'm still the same Rhea, the one who was broken and helpless.
But I'm not that person anymore. I'm reborn, renewed, and ready for revenge.
As we stand there, exchanging empty pleasantries, I feel Damian's eyes on us. He's watching, waiting to see how I'll react. But I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.
I thought these people were my friends…
But where were they when I was thrown into that cell?
Not one of them helped me. Not one.
Perfume cheap, rich, overpowering lingers in the air. People murmur, whisper, greet one another with fake concern.
Their voices… meaningless. Hollow.
I drift behind the sea of mourning clothes, toward the far corner of the graveyard, where it's quiet.
Breathing in, I whisper:
I'm back. I'm alive.
I died once, after being betrayed. But now…
Now I've returned with a motive.