Darkness. Silence. Pain.
Elara's last memory was of cold marble beneath her cheek, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth, and the mocking laughter of the two people she had once trusted most. Her husband, Adrian Holt, with his cruel smile as he tightened his grip on her chin. Her sister, Serena, whispering lies with poison-dipped sweetness.
"You thought you could keep everything, Elara? Fool. Even your life was never yours."
And then—nothing.
Her chest burned as if a thousand blades pierced through her ribs. With a violent gasp, Elara's eyes flew open. She clutched at her sheets, air tearing into her lungs as though she had surfaced from drowning. Her body trembled uncontrollably, sweat slicking her skin.
Alive?
Her wide eyes darted around. Sunlight filtered through lace curtains, dust motes swirling in its glow. The scent of lavender filled the air—familiar, achingly familiar. She blinked, struggling to focus on her surroundings.
This was not her bridal chamber. Not the lavish Holt estate where she had taken her last breath. Instead, she was lying on a pale-blue canopy bed, one she had not seen in years. A cracked dresser stood by the window, and a stack of worn books cluttered the small desk by the corner.
Her childhood bedroom.
Elara staggered upright, heart pounding in her ears. Her hands trembled as she stumbled toward the mirror. The glass reflected a face she had not worn in years—hers, but younger.
Her cheeks were still round with youth. Her eyes, unclouded by sorrow, glimmered brightly. Her skin, soft and smooth, was untouched by the hardships she had endured in her marriage.
"No…" Elara whispered, raising a trembling hand to touch her own reflection. "This… this isn't possible."
Her mind swirled in chaos.
Am I dreaming? Did death make me lose my sanity? Or… have I truly gone back?
Her breathing grew shallow as she recalled that fateful night—the poison Adrian forced down her throat, Serena's mocking smile as she signed away Elara's fortune, the suffocating pain as her heartbeat slowed. Rage surged in her veins, fierce enough to ground her to reality.
"No," she whispered again, firmer this time. "This is real."
The door creaked open, cutting into her storm of thoughts.
"Elara?" A voice she knew far too well echoed through the room. Sweet, honeyed, deceptively gentle. Serena.
Her sister stood in the doorway, dressed in delicate pink silk. She looked every bit the doting younger sister—big eyes shining with admiration, lips curved in a practiced smile.
In her past life, Elara would have smiled back, taken her hand, and confided in her without hesitation. Serena had been her closest companion, her comfort, her shadow. Until the knife had come from that very shadow.
Now, Elara only felt ice crawl through her veins.
"You're awake already?" Serena asked cheerfully, stepping into the room as if she owned it. "Father said Adrian might visit later. Aren't you excited? You'll finally meet him properly as your fiancé."
Elara froze.
Her fiancé.
Her blood ran cold as realization dawned. If Serena was speaking of Adrian as her "soon-to-be husband," then Elara had not only returned to her youth but to before the marriage had taken place.
Her chest rose and fell sharply. This was her chance. Fate had returned her to the very beginning.
But she was no longer the naive, obedient bride waiting to be betrayed.
Serena's brow furrowed at Elara's silence. "Why are you staring at me like that? Did something happen?"
Elara steadied her breathing. She wanted to scream, to tear Serena apart right there. She wanted to hurl every vile truth back at her smug face. But she couldn't. Not yet.
She forced her lips into a calm curve, though her voice was laced with frost. "Nothing happened, dear sister. I simply realized something very important."
Serena tilted her head, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "And what's that?"
Elara took a slow step forward, her gaze sharp as a blade. "That the masks people wear… don't last forever."
Serena faltered. For the briefest second, unease cracked her façade. But she quickly recovered, laughing softly. "You say the strangest things sometimes. You must have been dreaming."
Elara smiled faintly, though her nails dug into her palm until her skin threatened to bleed. Her smile did not reach her eyes.
Dream? No, Serena. This is not a dream. It's a warning—for you.
She turned away from her sister, meeting her reflection once more in the mirror. The young girl who stared back was no longer fragile or meek. She was reborn—sharpened by betrayal, fueled by vengeance.
Her voice dropped to a low murmur, one Serena could not quite hear. "Adrian Holt. Serena. You think you destroyed me once. But this time… I will be the one to destroy you."
A strange chill filled the room, one that made Serena's smile falter again. She lingered at the door, lips parting as if to speak. But something in Elara's eyes silenced her.
For the first time, Serena looked at her sister and felt… unsettled.