I stared at him for what felt like an eternity.
But the moment I blinked, the world shifted. I didn't return to my own reality; instead, I was pulled back into my past self, inhabiting my old body like a silent prisoner again.
It was disorienting, yet a chilling sense of deja vu washed over me. I knew exactly what was going to happen today. Time was moving here, just as it did in the world I left behind. Yesterday, Jennie and I had been at each other's throats, but now, I found myself sitting across from her on a date.
I recognized this moment—one of our many escapes where we would talk for hours and lose ourselves in photography.
I was wearing a black top paired with a long white skirt, my hair tied neatly back and my glasses perched on my nose. Jennie was my polar opposite, stunning in a brown backless dress that accentuated her figure perfectly.
She sat before me, radiant and animated, the soft glow of the candle between us casting a sophisticated light over the table.
"As usual, I'm leaving the ordering to you,"
she said with a grin.
"You always have the best taste."
Jennie always deferred to me; whenever she took charge of the menu, she inevitably chose something she hated.
"One carbonara and the hot wings, please,"
"And two juices."
I watched myself speak, a passenger in my own throat. I already knew these words because I had lived them once before.
I can't do this, I screamed internally. I don't want to order that… stop, it will ruin everything.
But I was powerless to act. I could only witness.As we made idle conversation, the food arrived.
"It looks incredible," Jennie beamed, reaching for her phone.
"I knew you'd pick the best items. Let's take some pictures before we eat."
While Jennie fussed over the perfect angle, I saw my hand reach out. I was already taking my first bite, unable to wait—just as impulsive as I had been back then.
My year in K-City wasn't all bad, I reflected. If I have to be trapped here, I will embrace it. I couldn't change the script even if I tried.
Suddenly, Jennie paused, her smile faltering as she looked at my plate.
"Is that… bacon? In the carbonara?"
"No, it's chicken," my past self replied, swallowing the meat casually.
"No, it isn't," she insisted, her voice rising with sudden urgency.
"Throw it out! It's not chicken—look at it! You can't eat bacon, Elena, it's pork. It's poison for you! Listen to me!"
Inside the cage of my mind, I watched her panic.
I know, Jennie. It's okay. Thank you for worrying about me,
I wanted to whisper. But my lips remained sealed, trapped in the rhythm of a memory I couldn't escape.