Chapter 3 Changes

The owner of those striking eyes studied me with an unreadable expression. A hint of amusement flickered across his face before it vanished, replaced by his usual icy demeanor.

"You've been staring at nothing for the past five minutes," he continued, crossing his arms. "Care to share what's on your mind?"

I hesitated. The memory of Liam’s face felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit, but why had it surfaced now? And why did it feel so… important?

Shaking my head, I muttered, "It's nothing."

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, watching me carefully.

But my mind was already elsewhere, replaying that fleeting memory again and again. If Liam hadn’t been kidnapped, then why was he there? And more importantly…what was his connection to Mark?

Realizing I was deep in thought again, I cleared my throat, before saying "uhhm, can I get discharged?" While blinking my eyes sheepishly.

My relationship with Mark in my previous life was almost non existence...but I acknowledged him as my husband even though our marriage was a contract one.

But seeing him now, six years younger...he looks exactly the same...his mesmerizing green blue eyes drawing me in as I got lost in them. His face and body rivaling that of famous models and tv actors.

Mark raised an eyebrow at my sudden request. His arms were still crossed, his posture relaxed yet imposing.

"You just woke up after collapsing, and now you want to leave?" His voice held a hint of exasperation, but beneath it, I caught something else...concern? No, that couldn't be right. The Mark I remembered never cared.

Still, I needed to get out of here. The sterile white walls of the hospital room felt suffocating, and my thoughts were spiraling. Liam’s face, the impossible timeline, Mark’s presence…None of it made sense, and I wasn’t going to find answers by lying in a hospital bed.

I forced a sheepish smile. "I'm fine...Just a little exhausted. I promise to rest at home."

Mark exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. It was a habit of his, one I hadn’t realized I remembered until now. "The doctor hasn’t cleared you yet."

"Then I'll sign myself out," I said, pushing the blanket off my legs. The cold air brushed at my skin, but I ignored it, determined to stand.

Mark didn’t move to stop me, but his gaze darkened. "You're being reckless."

"Wouldn’t be the first time" I muttered under my breath.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he let out a low chuckle. It was short-lived, but enough to surprise me. The Mark I knew never laughed...not like that.

"Fine" he said at last. "But I’m taking you home."

I blinked. "You don’t have to..."

"I wasn’t asking" he interrupted smoothly, already pulling out his phone. Probably calling his driver or security.

I pressed my lips together, debating whether to argue. But something told me I wouldn’t win this battle. And honestly? A part of me didn’t mind.

As I sat there, watching him arrange my discharge with effortless authority, I couldn't shake the feeling that this Mark...the one six years younger...was different.

Or maybe…I was the one who had changed.

I moved my gaze to Charles...who was just sitting quietly like he was one with the room. My eyes pleading to help me. 'Maybe he would listen to his secretary' I thought.

Charles met my gaze, his expression unreadable, but I knew him well enough to recognize the hesitation in his eyes. He was considering it...considering stepping in, saying something, slowing this whirlwind down.

But then, just as quickly, the moment passed. He merely offered a small, almost unnoticeable shake of his head.

My heart sank.

Mark continued speaking with the driver or security, his tone firm and decisive. He was handling everything like it was just another day, another task to be completed. Efficient. Unshakable.

And that’s what unsettled me the most.

Because six years ago, he wasn’t like this. He was cold and unbothered by the things around him, including me, his wife.

We were merely getting used to each other...being just friends even after being married for four years, before he died. Before we died.

"Let's go" he said without sparing me a glance as he walked out of the hospital ward with Charles in tow.

Sighing, I got up and picked my things before literally almost sprinting to match their pace. "I know they have long legs but can't they just walk a little slower?" I mumbled to myself begrudgingly.

As if hearing me, Mark's pace suddenly got a little slower, making Charles stare at him in shock. Well...I couldn't blame him, I was shocked to but at least I could breathe a little now. It's a win for me.

But I couldn't change the fact that the 'Mr Warren' actually slowed down to match my pace. I eyed Mark warily, my mind racing. Had he really heard me? Or was it just a coincidence?

Charles, who rarely showed any outward emotion, was still looking at Mark like he'd just grown a second head. That alone told me everything...I wasn’t the only one noticing the changes in him.

Still, I wasn’t about to complain. I took the small mercy and walked beside them, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. The hospital’s sterile white halls stretched ahead, too bright, too quiet except for the occasional beep of a machine or murmured conversation from passing nurses as they stole glances at Mark's face with red cheeks.

Mark stayed a step ahead, his posture straight, his presence commanding. The same man, yet not.

I hated the uncertainty clawing at me.

Once we stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around me, grounding me for a brief moment. But that small relief vanished when I saw the sleek black car waiting at the entrance, engine already running.

"Get in," Mark said, holding the door open.

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to, but because for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure where I stood with him.

I got into the car, still lost in thought. Until I noticed I was sitting in the passenger's seat with Mark getting into the car, hands on the steering wheel...ready to start the car.

Looking outside through the tinted windows, I saw Charles pushing his glasses up with his middle finger, clearly throwing a tantrum after being abandoned.

Chuckling, I let a small smile rest on my lips as I thought about how loyal Charles was in my previous life.

Mark must have noticed my amusement because he cast me a quick glance before focusing back on the road. "Something funny?" He asked.

I blinked, caught off guard. His tone was neutral, but there was something in it...curiosity, maybe. I couldn’t tell.

"Nothing" I said, still watching Charles through the side mirror. He was standing there, arms crossed around his office bag, his foot tapping against the pavement. If I didn't know him better, I'd think he was pouting.

Mark didn’t respond, just started the car and pulled out of the hospital driveway. The ride was silent, but not the comfortable kind.

I studied his profile, the sharp jawline, the steady grip on the wheel, the way he seemed so at ease, so in control.

He wasn't just alive, He was different.

And if he was different, then maybe…just maybe things wouldn't have to end the way they did before.

I turned my gaze back to the road ahead, my fingers unconsciously tightening around the fabric of my sleeve.

This time, I wouldn’t waste the chance to find out, I'll get my revenge. But the biggest problem is...I can't remember our killer.

The thought sent a chill down my spine.

I should remember, I died because of them. We both did.

But no matter how hard I tried to reach for the memory, it was like grasping at smoke...there, but slipping through my fingers the moment I got close.

Frustration bubbled up inside me. Was it the trauma? Had my mind buried it to protect me? Or…had something else erased it?

Mark's steady driving did little to calm the storm in my head. If he remembered, would he tell me? Did he even know? 'What am I even thinking?' I scolded myself in my head. If he remembered anything, I would have been the first person he would tell. Right?

I stole another glance at him. He looked so sure of himself, so composed...nothing like the man I had watched grow distant in our past life.

He seems to have changed a little, but maybe this was just the real him. I guess.