I put on my robe, the silk fabric sliding over my bare skin, still warm from moments ago. The room was dim, faint moonlight slipping through the curtains and casting long shadows across the bed.
I lay down beside him again.
Carefully.
Quietly.
As if I was afraid to wake a monster pretending to be a man.
I closed my eyes, telling myself I just needed to sleep. That maybe when I woke up, everything would make sense.
But sleep wouldn't come.
I turned around, giving him my back. I didn't want to see his face. Didn't want to see that peaceful expression he always wore while I was breaking inside.
As I lay there, staring into the darkness, tears slowly gathered in my eyes.
They slipped down silently, soaking into the pillow.
I was so stupid.
So unbelievably stupid.
Why did I think that just marrying him would solve everything?
Why did I believe that sacrifice alone could create love?
Why didn't I chase my dream? Why didn't I stay abroad, finish my studies, build my own name?
Why did I let him and his lover be together freely in their hearts, while I stayed by his side only in name—as his legal wife?
Why did I stubbornly give my all, thinking my patience would fix something that was already broken from the start?
The questions kept coming, each one stabbing deeper than the last.
A muffled chuckle escaped my lips.
It sounded strange in the quiet room.
It was a mix of tears and something else.
Relief.
Because for the first time, I wasn't crying for him.
I was crying for the girl I used to be.
The naive girl who believed love could be earned through suffering.
The girl who thought enduring humiliation was strength.
How pathetic.
But not anymore.
I slowly opened my eyes, staring at the dark ceiling.
At this time, something inside me hardened.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Something colder.
Clearer.
I steeled myself.
This time, I won't live for my father.
I won't live for Marcus.
I won't live for love.
I decided to do things my own way.
And this time—
I won't lose.
When I woke up, I felt an arm wrapped around my waist from behind.
For a second, my entire body stiffened.
Marcus… was hugging me.
That had never happened before.
The first time we shared a bed, I clearly remember waking up alone. The sheets beside me were already cold. He used to wake up early and leave without a word, as if staying beside me any longer was unbearable.
But now—
His arm was firm around me. His body warm against my back.
I fought the urge to shove him away. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move, to escape, to breathe.
Just being this close to him disgusted me.
It felt suffocating.
Like being trapped in a memory I didn't want to relive.
I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to calm down.
I won't lose control.
Not now.
I shifted my gaze toward the bright curtains. Sunlight streamed into the room, filling it with a soft golden glow. Morning had already settled in.
Carefully, I reached for my phone on the bedside table.
9:00 a.m.
My brows almost twitched.
Why is he still in bed?
Marcus was never the type to oversleep. He was disciplined. Strict with his schedule. Always gone before I even opened my eyes.
So why now?
"Good morning."
His voice was low. Gentle. Almost warm.
I jolted slightly, caught off guard by the softness in his tone.
What's happening? Did he hit his head somewhere?
The thought nearly made me laugh.
But I didn't show any of it on my face.
Instead, I did what I had always done in my previous life.
I smiled.
Or at least, I forced something that looked like one.
It felt like my cheeks were cracking under the effort.
"Good morning, honey." I muttered sweetly.
The same tone. The same softness. The same obedient wife he was used to.
But this time… it wasn't real.
This time, I had a plan.
That entire morning felt strange.
He was too gentle.
Too attentive.
His hand brushed my hair back carefully. His eyes lingered on me longer than usual. There was no coldness. No distance.
It was as if I was lying beside a completely different man.
And somehow—
That scared me more than his cruelty ever did.
Time passed quickly.
Before I knew it, the sky outside had turned orange, then slowly faded into deep blue.
It was already 6 p.m.
Marcus was sitting in the living room, reading the evening news on his tablet. He looked calm, composed—as if nothing in the world could shake him.
I stepped out of our bedroom.
This time, I wasn't wearing my usual soft, elegant dresses.
I chose something bold.
Provocative.
A fitted black dress that hugged my curves perfectly. The neckline dipped lower than what I used to wear, and the slit on the side revealed just enough skin to make a statement. I paired it with heels that clicked sharply against the marble floor.
If I was going to rewrite my life—
I would start by not dressing for his approval.
His eyes lifted from the screen the moment he heard my footsteps.
He froze.
"Where are you going looking like that, Lana?" he called out.
His tone was unreadable.
Not angry.
Not gentle.
Just controlled.
I didn't stop walking.
"Just going to buy something." I replied plainly, grabbing my purse from the console table.
He stood up.
"Looking like that?"
I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to hide it.
"What's wrong?" I turned slightly to glance at him. "Aren't we just in an arranged marriage? Let's not pretend like we're some perfect couple."
The words were casual.
But sharp.
They landed exactly where I wanted them to.
He flinched.
Just slightly.
If I hadn't been watching him carefully, I might have missed it.
His fingers tightened around the tablet. His jaw stiffened.
But he didn't stop me.
He didn't argue.
He just stood there… watching me walk away.
For the first time—
I didn't care what he was thinking.
The massive mansion felt even bigger once I left. The silence stretched through the halls, heavier than before.
Standing alone in the living room, Marcus lowered his gaze.
"So…" he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. "Lana came back to the past too."
Yes.
Just like Lana, Marcus had returned to the past with his memories intact.
When he first woke up and saw Lana alive beside him, breathing, warm, real—he felt overwhelming relief.
Happiness.
He thought it was a second chance.
A chance to correct his mistakes.
A chance to protect her.
A chance to make things right.
But today—
Reality struck him hard.
The way she looked at him.
The distance in her eyes.
The bitterness in her smile.
She remembered.
Lana also carried the memories of the day he killed her.
Of the shove.
Of the blood.
Of their unborn child.
He gripped his hair tightly, fingers tangling in frustration.
"What should I do?" he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "I… I can't lose Lana again."
His chest tightened.
"I know it now. I see it clearly."
He had been blind before.
Blind to her sacrifices.
Blind to her silent suffering.
Blind to his own feelings.
"I already loved her… even before."
He just didn't realize it.
Not until it was too late.
Marcus closed his eyes and steadied himself.
This time, he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.
This time, no matter what it took—
He would wait for Lana.
And when she came back—
He would fight for her.
Lana was out at a club.
The music was loud. The lights were blinding. Bodies moved carelessly under flashing neon, laughing, drinking, living.
But to her—
It was just noise.
The loss of her child was only yesterday for her.
Only yesterday.
Even if the calendar said otherwise, her heart was still trapped in that moment. The blood. The pain. The darkness.
So she drank.
One glass.
Then another.
And another.
The alcohol burned down her throat, but it didn't burn enough to erase the memory. It didn't drown the image of that red-stained floor. It didn't silence the sound of his voice saying Serena was carrying his child.
She kept drinking anyway.
If she couldn't erase it—
She would numb it.
By the time the club lights turned on and the staff started ushering people out, it was already 3 a.m.
Her steps were slightly unsteady as she walked out, heels clicking unevenly against the pavement. The cold night air hit her flushed skin, but it did nothing to sober her thoughts.
She went back home.
Back to the mansion that once felt like a palace.
Now it just felt like a grave.
The moment she pushed the door open—
She saw him.
Marcus was sitting in the living room.
Waiting.
The lights were still on. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, as if he hadn't moved from that spot for hours.
His eyes immediately locked onto her.
Dark.
Sharp.
"Where did you go?" he demanded, standing up.
His tone was filled with jealousy. And something dangerously close to panic.
She didn't answer.
She simply walked past him.
He grabbed her wrist.
"Did you make out with other men?" His voice rose. "You're married—"
Before he could finish his sentence—
A sharp, heavy slap landed across his face.
The sound echoed in the silent hall.
His head snapped to the side.
For a moment, everything froze.
Lana stood there, breathing heavily. Her chest is rising and falling. Her eyes are no longer soft.
No longer patient.
No longer loving.
"If I did," she said coldly, her voice was steady despite the alcohol in her system, "what right do you have to question me?"
Her gaze burned into him.
The red mark on his cheek slowly darkened.
But the pain on his face wasn't from the slap.
It was from the truth.