The door clicked shut, and silence swallowed the room. Lyvana stood there, still in her wedding dress, her chest tight and her hands trembling.
She remained there for a long time, not moving as tears fell from her eyes.
In the two years since their engagement, she had lost everything that had ever mattered.
Her freedom.
Her peace.
Even the inheritance her father had left behind for her.
Now, even her dignity.
Piece by piece, it had all been stripped from her until nothing remained. She was now Mrs Vaughn. A title she didn't want anymore.
The door opened again. She turned her head, thinking he'd come back.
But it wasn't him.
A figure stood in the doorway, dressed in black. The barrel of a gun glinted faintly in the intruder's gloved hands.
Her breath froze and she instinctively moved back. "What..."
The first shot hit her chest before she could finish speaking. The force slammed her back against the wall, sharp pain exploding through her body as the air was torn from her lungs.
She tried to scream, but only a wet gasp escaped her lips.
The intruder stepped closer, raising the gun again.
Her mind barely had time to register the betrayal before the second shot ended everything.
Her ears rang as he walked away without a word.
The pain dulled. The room seemed to twist and bend, the light becoming a blur as her tears covered her vision. Her body grew light… until she felt nothing at all.
The sound of the shot still rang in her ears when she jolted upright.
The bright lights above her buzzed loudly, making her head hurt.
The metal chair pressed hard against her back, making it ache.
Somewhere nearby, a phone rang, boots pounded on tile, voices rose and fell in clipped commands.
She blinked, and what she saw was a police station, desks cluttered with files and the faint scent of stale coffee hanging in the air.
"Am I dead?"
Her voice was barely audible under the low roar of the station.
A shadow fell across her desk.
"You're late," a gruff voice said, sliding a thick file toward her. "And you look like hell."
Lyvana blinked up at him.
"What?" Her voice cracked.
He frowned, muttered something under his breath, and stalked off, leaving the file behind.
The flicker of a monitor caught her eye. On the desk a computer screen glowed with a date in the corner.
15 April 20XX.
No, that couldn't be right.
She leaned closer, as if proximity might change it. But the numbers stayed.
Her knees wavered.
April 15th. Exactly two years before her wedding.
She felt a chill creep up her spine. She knew this day. She'd been here with Emily her bestie, in this station, smiling nervously while gathering notes for a college report. Back then, her future had felt… safe regardless.
Now, the memory collided with another—the sour stench of Mark and Celine in the penthouse, the gunshot and the crushing bloom of pain in her chest.
She shook her head hard, like she could remove the fog out of her brain.
But then it hit.
A boom. Not just loud... violent. Like a trumpet sounding inside her skull.
The world spun around her. The pounding in her ears was so intense that it felt like her brain might burst.
She slid down until she was half-crouched, half-collapsed, gasping like the air had been stolen from her.
Memories flooded her all at once.
Slowly, she lifted her head and she caught sight of Emily, her best friend watching her with worry on her face.
What the…
The problem was Emily died a few months before her wedding.
Where was this?
Is this hell?
The loud noise in her ears slowly faded.
"Lyvana? Liv, talk to me! You're turning grey," Emily said, her voice finally breaking through the noise in Lyvana's head.
Lyvana looked at her slowly.
Emily looked healthy. Her hair, which Lyvana had last seen looking dull and thin in the hospital bed, was thick and glossy. There were no dark circles under her eyes. There was no hospital smell. Only her familiar vanilla perfume.
"Emily?" Lyvana whispered and reached out and touched Emily's arm. It felt warm.
"Who else would it be?" Emily said, trying to joke. "You just almost fainted."
She glanced at the police officers nearby.
"The Sergeant is already looking at us like we're a nuisance. We need to finish these interviews for the criminal justice project and get out of here."
Lyvana's heart was racing, then she took in a slow breath.
Dead.
That had been her first thought. It made sense. She had been shot twice. No one survives that.
She glanced down at her hand instinctively. No ring.
"Is this the afterlife?" she whispered.
"The after what?" Emily looked confused. "Obviously not. It's a police station. You must be hungry. I told you to eat something heavier. You really need to sit upright."
She helped Lyvana get up and sit on a metal chair, her hands gripping the edge of the chair.
"Liv?" Emily nudged her again. "Are you with me? If you're sick, we can leave. This project isn't worth you collapsing."
Lyvana nodded. "Let's leave."
As Emily was driving her home to their apartment, it hit her... the impossible truth settling like ice in her veins.
She was alive.
But she had died. She knew she had. She'd felt the darkness… and yet here she was, her heart beating.
"You okay?" Emily's voice broke through her thoughts. "What really happened in there?"
"I'm fine."
"Well, you gave me a scare," Emily said, her tone softening.
She was standing in the middle of a miracle she didn't understand. Somehow, impossibly, she was alive again.
Alive.
She repeated, trying to convince herself this was real.
A slow, steady smile spread across her face. This was her second chance, and she wasn't going to waste it. Not this time. She had to be smart.
"Oh did you hear that club on Seventh finally opened?" Emily asked. "The one that's been 'opening soon' for a year?"