Chapter 2 Fourteen Days

Isabella POV

I woke up.

The first thing I noticed was the light. It was soft and warm, filtering through my pink curtains. The same pink curtains I had seen a thousand times before. The same pink curtains that had hung in my room since I was a child.

I blinked. I stared at the ceiling. My ceiling. My room.

I didn't move. I couldn't move. My body felt heavy. My mind felt foggy. Something was wrong.

I remembered the roof falling. I remembered the darkness swallowing me. I remembered the cold.

But I was not cold. I was warm. I was in my bed. I was alive.

How?

I sat up slowly. My body ached. My head throbbed. I looked around the room, confused.

Everything was familiar. My dresser. My bookshelf. My vanity. The photo of my father on my nightstand. The dried flowers from my grandmother's garden hang on the wall.

I knew this room. I had grown up in this room.

But something felt wrong.

I looked down at my hands. They were clean. No blood. No dust. No cuts.

I touched my leg. The leg that had been crushed by the pillar. The leg that had been broken. The leg that had been trapped.

It was fine.

I touched my face. My skin was warm. My heart was beating. I was real.

I was alive.

But how?

I remembered dying. I remembered the weight of the ceiling. I remembered the pain. I remembered the darkness.

So how was I here?

Was I in heaven?

I stood up. My legs were shaky. I grabbed the bedpost to steady myself. I walked to the mirror.

The woman staring back at me was me. Isabella. The same face. The same eyes. The same hair.

But something was different.

My eyes were wider. My face was paler. I looked... alive.

I touched my reflection. My fingers met cold glass. I pressed my palm against the mirror. I felt the cool surface against my skin.

I was real.

I was alive.

I looked at the calendar on my wall.

The date stared back at me.

Fourteen days before my twenty-seventh birthday.

I froze.

My heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat. My hands began to tremble.

Fourteen days.

Fourteen days before the party. Fourteen days before the betrayal. Fourteen days before the apocalypse.

Fourteen days before I died.

I stared at the calendar. The numbers blurred. Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away.

This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. A trick of my broken mind.

I closed my eyes. I counted to ten. I opened them again.

The date was still there.

Fourteen days before my twenty-seventh birthday.

I stumbled backward. I hit the bed and sat down hard. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.

I searched for my phone. It was on the nightstand. I grabbed it. I tapped the screen.

The date on my phone was the same. Fourteen days before my birthday.

The picture on my screen made me freeze.

It was a photo of me and Ethan. Our third anniversary. He was smiling. I was smiling. We looked happy. We looked in love.

I felt sick.

I threw the phone on the bed. It bounced and landed near the pillow. The screen flickered. The photo disappeared.

I sat there. My hands gripped the sheets. My knuckles were white.

Still in denial, I pinched myself.

Hard.

"Ow!" I screamed.

The pain was sharp. Real. I felt it.

I looked at my arm. There was a red mark. A small bruise forming.

It was real.

I was real.

This was real.

I had returned.

I had returned exactly fourteen days before the apocalypse. Fourteen days before the betrayal. Fourteen days before my death.

The second chance came with my last life memory. Everything. The cake. The documents. Sophia's cruel smile. Ethan's cold eyes. The pillar on my leg. The roof falling.

My death.

I remembered all of it.

I stood up again. I walked to the window. I pulled back the curtain.

The city stretched out before me. Tall buildings. Busy streets. People rushing to their jobs. The sun reflected off the glass towers, making the whole world sparkle.

It was the same city. The same world.

But it was not the same.

I remembered.

I remembered the cake. The three tiers. The white frosting. The pink roses I had piped by hand.

I remembered the ballroom. The white roses. The gold balloons. The banner that read "Happy 27th Birthday, Isabella!"

I remembered Sophia's smile. The way she had looked at me. The way her eyes had sparkled with cruelty.

I remembered the documents. The marriage certificate. The fraud.

I remembered Ethan's face. The way he had smirked. The way he had watched me crumble.

I remembered the pillar. The weight on my leg. The pain.

I remembered the roof. The darkness. My death.

I remembered everything.

I realized I knew something nobody else knew.

The world was about to end.

I remembered my wish.

My final birthday wish.

If anyone can hear me... This is my last birthday wish. If I have another chance, I will listen this time. I will never betray myself for anyone again.

The roof had fallen. I had died.

But my wish had been heard.

I fell to my knees. The floor was cold against my skin. I didn't care.

I laughed.

It was a broken sound. A desperate sound. A sound that came from somewhere deep inside me.

I cried.

The tears streamed down my face. They dripped onto the floor. They pooled beneath my hands.

I was alive.

I had been given a second chance.

I don't know how long I stayed there. Minutes. Hours. Time didn't matter.

When I finally stopped crying, I felt empty. Hollow. But also... something else.

Something hard. Something cold. Something that had not been there before.

I stood up. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. I looked at my reflection one more time.

The woman in the mirror looked back at me.

She was not the same woman who had baked her own birthday cake. She was not the same woman who had trusted everyone around her. She was not the same woman who had died on the floor of a collapsing building.

She was someone else.

She was someone who remembered.

"Never again," I whispered.

My voice was hoarse. My throat was raw. But the words were clear.

"Never again."

I will never betray myself again.

I walked out of the room. Time to get this dice rolling.