Her body felt unbearably heavy.
It was as if invisible chains pressed her down from every direction, pinning her to nothingness. Darkness surrounded her completely—thick, suffocating, endless. She could not tell where she was, or even if she still existed. She tried to move, but her limbs refused to respond. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Even breathing felt impossible, as though the air itself was being slowly stolen away, molecule by molecule.
Panic crept in.
Not sharp panic—this was worse. Slow. Cold. The kind that whispered that this was how it ended.
Then, fragments surfaced.
Faces.
Voices.
Her parents.
The way they used to call her name—softly, warmly.
"Viviana."
The sound of her name carried something fragile and precious, like a promise that once meant safety. She remembered their laughter echoing through small spaces, remembered hands brushing her hair, remembered warmth.
She remembered smiles.
Simple moments.
Eating together at a small table. Laughing over burnt food. Playing childish games without fear of consequence. Living without dread, without suspicion, without hatred.
She reached out instinctively.
She walked toward them.
But no matter how fast she moved, no matter how desperately she ran, they drifted farther away. The space between them stretched unnaturally, like a cruel illusion designed to torment her.
"Wait," she whispered.
They did not turn back.
Suddenly, the memories twisted.
Warmth vanished.
Blood splattered across her vision.
Screams ripped through the darkness, sharp and raw. The sound of fists striking flesh echoed again and again, merciless and relentless. Bones cracked. Bodies fell.
"No—!" she screamed.
Her voice tore free at last, echoing endlessly in the void.
"Stop! Please—stop hitting them! Please!"
She tried to reach them again, but her hands passed through nothing. She was forced to watch, helpless, as the people she loved were beaten until they no longer moved.
Her chest burned.
Her soul fractured.
And then—
She woke up.
Light exploded into her vision.
Viviana gasped violently, sucking in air as though she had been drowning for hours. Her chest rose and fell uncontrollably, lungs screaming as they struggled to remember how to breathe. Her eyes darted around wildly, trying to make sense of her surroundings.
Everything felt wrong.
The bed beneath her was too soft. The air was warm. The light was gentle instead of cruel. The room was decorated in shades of pink—delicate curtains, floral patterns, soft pillows. A vanity table stood near the window, cluttered with cosmetics, perfumes, and jewelry.
This was not her world.
This was unmistakably a young woman's bedroom.
"Viviana?"
A woman's voice trembled nearby, thick with fear and relief.
"Viviana, are you awake? Can you hear me?"
Viviana turned her head slightly, her vision still blurry.
Before she could respond, something struck her mind like a hammer.
Pain exploded behind her eyes.
Memories—violent, intrusive, foreign—came crashing into her consciousness.
Another life.
Another body.
Another Viviana.
She clutched her head as images poured in relentlessly, overlapping and colliding. Her thoughts fractured as she was forced to witness experiences she had never lived—yet somehow understood intimately.
This Viviana a beautiful lady which belonged to the Gliston family.
Wealthy.
Influential.
Powerful.
Her father was Pliston Gliston, a successful jewelry businessman whose name carried weight in elite circles. Her mother—Carl—had once been his assistant, later becoming his wife after years of shared ambition and quiet affection.
She had siblings.
The eldest was Zef, her half-brother. His mother had died shortly after giving birth, leaving him raised in the shadow of loss. Pliston had struggled for years alone until Carl entered his life, offering not only love but acceptance—treating Zef as if he were her own son.
Then came Linda, the second child and eldest daughter. Responsible. Quiet. Always careful. Yet unique in her way.
After her was Andrine. Emotional. Loyal. Easily influenced. Best basketball player.
And finally—Viviana.
The youngest.
The invisible one.
More memories followed.
A childhood filled with loneliness masked by privilege.
School days spent sitting quietly at the back of classrooms, watching others form bonds she never quite belonged to. Teachers praised her intelligence but never noticed her silence.
Her only real friend—Kathleen. That what she thought before she died and she was called Kat as a shortcut.
The girl who laughed loudly, who dragged her into conversations, who made her feel less alone.
That what she thought
But was the reason she was alone either by her family or colleagues.
She always act righteous to ward her but she is the villain.
College life followed. Final year. Pressure. Expectations. An internship approaching.
The memories settled into place like pieces of a puzzle.
Viviana exhaled slowly.
The panic eased.
"Viviana?" the woman asked again, her voice trembling now with urgency. "Are you alright? Please say something. Should we call the doctor?"
"Pliston," the woman added, panic rising, "call the doctor—"
"Wait."
The single word cut through the room like a blade.
Silence fell.
Viviana slowly pushed herself upright. She smiled faintly—not warmly, but knowingly.
"Don't call the doctor," she said calmly.
Everyone froze.
"The daughter you're looking at," she continued evenly, "is dead. This body remains. I do not."
Shock rippled through the room.
Her parents stared at her in disbelief. Her siblings stiffened. Kathleen's face paled.
Viviana swung her legs off the bed and stood. Her movements were steady, controlled, far too composed for someone who had just awakened from unconsciousness.
"I'll be leaving," she said. "This family means nothing to me."
Her mother rushed forward instinctively. "No—whatever you're saying, you're still—"
Viviana cut her off sharply.
"Don't insult me with lies."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
She scoffed softly. "That white-haired woman truly cursed me—throwing me into a useless body, surrounded by emotionally bankrupt humans."
Kathleen frowned. "You shouldn't talk like that. Everyone here was worried when you were unconscious."
Viviana turned slowly, her gaze locking onto Kathleen's.
"Worried?" she repeated.
Her lips curled.
"You watched her drown."
Kathleen stiffened.
"You stood there," Viviana continued quietly. "You waited. You only called for help when she was almost dead."
She leaned closer.
"That hesitation killed her."
Her mother gasped. "We didn't know—"
"And if you had?" Viviana snapped. "What would you have done? Hug her? Pay another bill? Then disappear again?"
No one answered.
"She died believing she was unwanted," Viviana said coldly. "That is your legacy."
She turned to her parents.
"Do you remember her first year in college?" she asked. "When she fought with another girl over a man?"
They remained silent.
"You paid the hospital bill," she continued. "You never asked why it happened. Money is your only language." She was expecting to be repremended by you guys, but what did you do you look at her and just left just like that.
The most funniest part is she never love the guy.
She faced Zef next.
"You pretend to be distant kindness," she said. "You fixed things quietly, thinking silence was noble."
She laughed softly.
"Silence is cowardice."
Her gaze shifted to Andrine.
"You believed lies without proof. You paraded ignorance as loyalty."
She smirked.
"She cheated on you. Repeatedly. Abortions included. Enjoy that truth."
Andrine's face drained of all color.
Before Kathleen could speak, Viviana pointed at her.
"You see?" she said. "When I speak, you doubt me. When she speaks, you believe her."
Guilt seeped into the room like poison.
Viviana turned last to Linda.
"You ignored her calls because you were afraid of hurting her," she said. "You chose comfort over honesty."
She stepped closer.
"She loved you more than your fiancé ever did."
Silence crushed them.
Viviana looked around one final time.
"You call this care."
Her eyes hardened.
"I call it neglect wrapped in good intentions."
She turned away.
"Don't stop me when I leave," she said flatly. "This body already died once. I won't let it rot here again."
And without waiting for permission, Viviana walked toward the door.
Then stop. She thought she will leave behind a family that finally understood the cost of their silence.
But some thought came to her