Chapter 5

Cecelia did not waver. "Wesley did something wrong. He has to be punished for it."

She picked up the whip and approached me, one deliberate step at a time.

The whip cracked through the air and struck me with brutal force, lashing me again and again. The barbs tore into my flesh until my entire back became a bloody mess of torn skin.

I crumpled to the floor, barely conscious as my vision began to blur.

In my daze, I felt as though I had traveled back 10 years, to the day I first woke up in Wesley's body after our souls had somehow switched places.

I couldn't accept what had happened to me, and I spent those early days in a fog of confusion.

Wesley's parents quickly realized something was wrong with their son.

They dragged me from church to church in search of answers. When they finally accepted that they couldn't bring their real son back, they threw me out of the house and left me to fend for myself.

That was the hardest period of my life. I was only 14, without a cent to my name and too young for anyone to hire me for proper work.

When I was thirsty, I drank from public restroom faucets. When I was hungry, I scavenged expired bread from convenience store dumpsters. The constant hunger and exhaustion left my head heavy and my thoughts sluggish. I could barely think straight.

Just when I thought the universe was determined to crush me completely, I heard a soft, gentle voice one day. "Wesley?"

Cecelia took me home without a second thought. She personally trimmed my tangled hair and laid out clean clothes for me.

"I don't know what you did to upset your parents, but don't worry. You can stay with us. You're my fiancé, and I'm not going to abandon you."

That was the happiest moment of my life. Even though her kindness was meant for the real Wesley rather than me, I accepted it gratefully, without a single complaint.

From that day forward, I couldn't help but watch Cecelia whenever she was near. When she laughed freely, I found myself laughing along with her. When she was hurt or upset, I felt her pain even more keenly than she did.

I fell hopelessly in love with her.

However, Cecelia didn't love me.

The first thing she did when she came of age was try to break off our engagement.

Her father, Royce Marquand, was furious that day. He even ordered her to be punished with the family whip.

The instant the whip came down, I threw myself in front of her and took the blow meant for her.

The whip cracked through the air and struck my back, leaving a wound so deep that it exposed the bone.

Under Cecelia's stunned gaze, I weakly raised my head to look at Royce. "Mr. Marquand, I'm willing to end my engagement to Cece. The Marquand family gave me a second chance at life. Even without this engagement, I would still give everything I have for this family."

Royce looked at the wound on my back, closed his eyes, and finally nodded.

After that, Cecelia went abroad for two years. I knew she had gone after Harold, and I assumed it wouldn't be long before I heard news of their engagement.

But that news never came.

Cecelia returned one dew-laden morning.

I was helping Royce in the garden when she appeared. I froze as she approached me, one step at a time, and asked, "Wesley, will you still marry me?"

I couldn't remember how I reacted at that moment, but I must have nodded.

And that was how Cecelia became my wife.

I was so overwhelmed with joy that I never thought to ask why she had come back.

Through the haze of pain, I felt someone tend to the wounds on my back. A cool, gentle hand brushed over the scars her father's whip had left years ago. Her touch was impossibly light.

I wanted to savor the warmth of her hand, but some part of me instinctively recoiled from her touch.

A familiar voice spoke with weary tenderness. "Wes. Stay still."

I immediately stopped moving, but the pain from the fresh lashes still forced a faint, helpless whimper from my lips.