A soft groan escaped my lips.
Is this it?
Is this what death feels like?
Weightless. Quiet. Empty.
I thought death would be peaceful. Like floating in space—silent, dark, and alone. But then why was it so noisy?
"Leyla!"
My ears twitched.
A voice. Clear and familiar.
"Leyla! Seriously, wake up already."
That voice… no, it couldn't be.
Was I hallucinating? Or was death some weird limbo that messes with your memories?
"Mina?" I whispered into the void.
I had to be wrong. Mina died in an accident. A drunk driver. I remembered the funeral. I remembered crying until my chest felt like it would cave in. So why did I hear her now?
I blinked, but everything was still pitch-black.
Was I dead or dreaming?
Then a hand touched mine, warm and very real. My eyes fluttered open, stinging slightly from the light.
The first thing I saw was her face.
"Mina?" I gasped.
She blinked at me, worry etched across her soft features. Her hair was still that chaotic dark wave she never bothered to tame. Her black eyes studied me carefully. She was alive. Real. Close enough to touch.
"You're awake! I was starting to think you passed out or something," she said, placing her phone down.
Without a word, I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around her.
"Whoa, hey! What is going on with you today?" she laughed, hugging me back, concern returning as she felt me trembling. "Leyla, are you crying?"
I was.
Tears streamed freely down my cheeks. I didn't even try to stop them.
She slowly eased me back into my chair and stood up. "Hang tight. I'm getting you some water."
She walked toward the counter of the small café. I glanced down at my hands.
Youthful.
No bruises. No scars. My silver-brown hair was smooth and free of the dull grey that had aged me far too early. I caught my reflection in the window—clear skin, bright eyes, no shadows of pain or despair.
This wasn't death.
Mina returned and handed me the water. I took a small sip.
Cold. Refreshing.
Real.
"So," she said, plopping back down across from me. "You okay? You were out of it for a solid five minutes. Did you have a nightmare or something?"
"This is death, isn't it?" I asked.
She burst out laughing. "What? Did you just wake up from a fever dream? No, you are very much alive, my friend. And, if I may say, as dramatic as ever."
She sipped her latte while I glanced around.
The café. The familiar smell of cinnamon pastries and brewing coffee. The cozy tables. The sunlight pouring in through the large window.
A banner was strung above the door: "Congratulations, Graduates!"
I blinked.
This place. This moment.
It was just after our university graduation.
My heart skipped.
I looked at the date on my phone: June 2023.
No. No way.
The same breeze that used to cool our cheeks during finals week brushed past me. The car horns outside, the chatter of students, the humming of soft jazz in the background—every sound, every scent—real.
Too real.
I turned to the door, heart racing. Doubt filled me. Was it possible? If this really was the past, then that same goofy employee—what was his name again? Andy?—would show up any second now. Late. Rushing.
I waited.
One second. Two.
A muffled voice sounded from outside.
Then—
"I'm late! I'm late, I'm—"
Thud!
The door burst open as a young man in a tan uniform tripped over the edge of the hanging banner.
"Ow! Damn it!" he groaned, stumbling face-first onto the floor, arms flailing as the plastic confetti bag spilled from his hands.
He scrambled up, cheeks red as he grabbed the banner that had slipped halfway off the frame.
"I swear this banner has it out for me..."
As he struggled to fix it, another employee, slightly older with a cap worn backwards, appeared behind him with a scowl.
"Andy! Again? Seriously?"
"It was the wind! I swear!"
The second guy tossed a cap at Andy's chest. "Mr. Clain will skin you alive if he sees you like this. Get to the back. I'll fix this."
Andy winced and quickly obeyed, rushing past him to the back kitchen while the second guy straightened the banner with practiced annoyance.
Mina chuckled beside me. "That poor guy. If Mr. Clain had been here, he'd be toast."
I sat frozen.
It happened. Word for word. Action for action.
No dream, no illusion, no fevered delusion could reconstruct something like that so precisely.
I shot up, sending my chair scraping loudly across the floor.
Every head turned toward me.
I clutched my chest.
I've been reborn.
I'm back.
I have a second chance.
Just then, with perfect dramatic timing, petals began to fall from the ceiling. Confetti popped in the air. People emerged from all sides of the café holding cannons, cheering and clapping. Even Mina joined in with a sly grin.
I stared, already knowing what was coming.
Footsteps.
The door opened.
And there he was.
Liam.
Twenty-three, confident, wearing his favorite blue long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans. A bouquet of roses in one hand. A velvet ring box bulging in his pocket.
I should've screamed. Should've thrown the table at him.
But I didn't.
I watched, silent and still.
He approached with a grin and handed me the flowers. Then dropped to one knee.
Gasps and giggles echoed around us. Phones were lifted. Cameras clicked. Girls clutched their chests.
Liam opened the box. A diamond ring sparkled.
And then he spoke.
"Leyla... you've always stood by me. Through everything. When others doubted me, you didn't. When I left to chase my dreams, you waited. And now... I'm back to keep my promise."
His voice. His words. Too perfect. Too rehearsed.
"Leyla Eeian, will you marry me?"
My smile didn't falter.
But my mind was screaming.
He wasn't even looking at me.
The ring faced me, but his eyes drifted past my shoulder.
I turned my head slightly.
There.
In the back of the crowd.
Her.
The younger version of that snake of a woman. The one he would marry after leaving me to rot. She was watching. Blushing. Smirking. Glaring.
They were already together.
So this proposal... this whole act...
I was just a cover.
They played me from the start. Used me. Lied to me.
I had been nothing more than a placeholder until they could get what they wanted. And in the end, they took my home, my happiness, my dignity—and tried to take my heart.
Not this time.
Now I saw it all. Every shadow. Every motive. And I would find out the full truth, from the inside out.
From a completely different angle.
I would burn their world to the ground.
But for now—
I kept the smile on my face.
My heart didn't race.
My eyes didn't water.
And softly, so softly that the crowd leaned in to hear it, I gave the only answer that mattered.
"No."