Chapter 0006

The truth is, I really can't believe this. I was not a good girl. I remembered my mistress.

She was a stern but kind woman, with a heart much softer than her demeanor suggested. She had a way of making us all feel seen and valued, even when the world outside seemed to overlook us. It all began one afternoon, she called me into her small, cluttered office, the air filled with the scent of old books and the faint aroma of lavender from the sachets she kept in her drawers.

"Sit down, dear," she said, her voice gentle but firm. I took a seat, my small legs dangling off the chair.

"Is something wrong, Mistress?" I asked, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and curiosity because I didn't know what have done this time.

She smiled, the lines on her face softening. "No, Emma. Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright, I just want to talk to you about something important."

I nodded, my eyes wide with anticipation.

"You're a good girl, Emma," she began, her gaze steady and warm. "And it's important that you continue to be good to everyone. Be kind, be patient, and be helpful. Do you know why?"

I shook my head, hanging on her every word.

"Because," she took a deep purse before she continued, "being good to others will help you find the right family. Good parents look for children who are kind and caring. They want to bring home someone who will be a joy in their lives."

Her words sank deep into my young heart. I nodded earnestly, understanding the weight of what she was saying. From that day forward, I tried my best to be good and to be kind to everyone around me. I helped the younger kids with their chores, shared my toys, and always had a smile for anyone who needed it.

I desperately had to be a good girl, no matter what.

And it worked, or so I thought. One sunny afternoon, I was coming from the staircase. As the oppressive heat seemed to seep into every corner of the orphanage, I saw her for the first time. A lady stood in the sitting room where we all normally gathered to eat, fanning herself with her hand in a futile attempt to combat the heat. Her face was flushed, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She looked around with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort, clearly not used to the old building: a lack of modern comforts.

I watched her from a distance, intrigued by her presence. She was dressed elegantly, a stark contrast to the shabby soundings of the orphanage. Her eyes were weary which drew me in.

I watched her for a moment, feeling a pang of empathy. Remembering my mistress's words, I decided to do something kind. I hurried to the kitchen, filled a cup with cold water, and made my way over to the lady.

That was the only weapon an abandoned child could use in order to survive.

"Please take it," I said softly, holding out the cup. "Would you like some water?"

She looked down at me, her eyes widening in surprise. Then she smiled a warm, genuine smile that made my heart flutter.

"Thank you, dear," she said, taking the cup from my hands. "That's very thoughtful of you."

As she drank the water, I felt a sense of pride and happiness. I had done something good, something kind. Maybe this was what mistress had meant.

Mistress approached her, and they began to talk. I couldn't hear their conversation, but I could see the lady's expression soften as mistress spoke. After a few moments, the lady glanced in my direction and smiled, a kind, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat.

My cheeks flushed, and I quickly looked away embarrassed by my sudden burst of hope. Could she be here looking for a child to adopt? I dared not let myself dream too much, but a small spark of hope ignited within me.

But now, lying here in this cold, Impersonal hospital room, that dream felt like a distant, cruel joke. My mother no, the woman who adopted me had turned out to be someone entirely different from the loving parent I had imagined. The betrayal, the lies, the realization that I had been nothing more than a parn in her schemes, all weighed heavily on my heart.

Tears welled up in my eyes as the memories of the orphanage mixed with the harshness of my present situation.

What did I struggle all this time for? However stupid of me. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, the line between past and present blurred. The lessons from my youth intertwined with the harsh realities of my life now.

Dear Deity, now that I'm in this situation, I bitterly regret my life. Please pity this fool and give me one more chance. I'll bet my all I will avenge them. I promise you that. So please, give me a chance. The child was just desperate to have a family. Why did her wish have to be trampled on? Why did I have to become a laughingstock?

********

The blaring sound of my alarm jolted me awake, pulling me from a deep, disorienting sleep. My eyes fluttered open, and blinked several times, trying to clear the gaze from my vision. Something felt different, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. As I reached out to turn off the alarm, I noticed I was putting on a cleanser mask. Panic surged through me.

Before I could fully grasp what was happening, my bedroom door swung open, and my sister, Elena, burst in. "What is this? Did you fall asleep?" she asked, her voice filled with the familiar teasing.

I stared at her, my heart racing. This was how she normally behaved before everything changed a year ago.

Mother's voice calls out loud, calling Elena. She rolled her eyes, giving me that exasperated look she always did when she thought I was being overly dramatic as she grabbed her bag to leave my room.

"I should go with you to take pictures and help you pick out the dress. It's too bad. Make sure you send me some pictures, okay?" she said while leaving the room.

Pictures? My mind spun. I glanced around the room, taking in the poster on the walls, and a pile of books on my desk. My hands ran through my shoulder, back to my neck.

"Was it a dream?" A phone on the desk blinks, giving a sign a message as just entered. I swaged my lanky body to it and it appeared to be my phone.

I placed my finger on the fingerprint sensor and the screen unlocked. "I'm outside your place. I'll wait for you," I checked the sender's name and it's Zayn.

I was on the verge of dropping the phone when my eyes roamed to the top of the screen and I saw the date, (Monday, June 19, 2023).

"What? It's 2023?" I ran off the bed to the desk to check the calendar. It all appears to be 2023 and have marked 19 of June as an indication am up to something that day.

"This was a year ago. What's going on?" the year everything started to change.

something felt different on the wrist of my left hand, I turned it, having my palm faced up. The date appears on my wrist being a year forward.

A surge of memories hit me. This was the day everything began. I grabbed my bag and hurried downstairs.

A moment after I stepped outside, the cool morning air hit my face, with my eyes hurting from the rays of the cool weather and there stood Zayn leaning against his car with that charming smile that always made my heart flutter back then, youthful and full of deceit.

We drove through the familiar streets, my mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. Eventually, we arrived at a small, quaint bridal shop-the very one where I had my wedding gown.

Now, here I am. The workers are busy trying their best to make sure the gown fits me and this allowed me to rethink over and over again.

"What's going on? How can it be a year ago? Does this mean I went back in time?"

"Ma'am, take a look in the mirror, " one of the workers interrupted me from thinking. I turned to face the mirror.

The second in charge left my side to pick the bouquet. "Would you like to try holding a bouquet?" I collected it with a heavy heart without a second thought.

"Gosh, you look so beautiful. You have such a small waist," this is exactly the same word as what they said to me a year ago.

"Ma'am. Let's turn around so your groom can see you. Let's turn around," yes I remember turning around that time and getting a cut on my left wrist.

The lady's hair clip left a cut on my wrist as she was raising her head. "I got a cut just like this one," I whisper steadily in my mind, turning my wrist and I give a look.

"Gosh, are you okay?"

"Can you see this? I asked if they could see the date on my waist."

"Yes, you're bleeding. It must hurt a lot." she nodded. "Hurry and get some ointment," she ordered her mate.

"Your mother asked for something more modest, right?" her question sent shivers down my spine. The last words she spoke to me in the hospital began to replay in my head, "In your next life, don't be so kind."

"It would be best to listen to what she says, right?" I asked.

"You look beautiful. It's good to always listen to our mother, they know the best for us."

"Sure," she unfolded the cotton, revealing me to Zayn to take a look

"Doesn't the bride look so beautiful?" one of the workers threw the question at him.

He nodded. "It looks nice. Should we get going then?"

I know I can't proceed with this marriage. I didn't know how or why this had happened, but I knew one thing for sure: I couldn't waste this opportunity. I had to take back my revenge on them all and he is going to be the first.

"How many people got married after trying on dresses here?" I threw the question to the one on my right hand.

They both looked at each other before she spoke. "There were too many to count."

A round of smiles ran down my cheeks. "How about marriages that were called off?" The question grids Zayn's attention away from his phone.

"None that I know of. Why do you ask?" she said, with a look of confusion.

"It looks like I'll be the first," I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. The anger, the hurt, and the betrayal had been building up. I know what I have to do, I have to avenge them all, even if it's the first and last action I will take.

"Zayn," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside while I dropped the bouquet.

"What?" he stared at me, his expression a mix of desperation.

I stepped closer, my finger brushing against the fabric of his jacket. I reached into his pocket and pulled out his office pen, the one he always carried with him. For a moment, I just held it, the weight of it grounding me in my resolve.

I let out a sarcastic laugh. Then, with a swift motion, I took the pen and stabbed it into the delicate fabric of my wedding gown. The tearing sound was loud in the silent room, echoing the sound of my revenge on them all.

Zayn's eyes widened in shock as I continued to drag the pen through the gown, ripping it almost to pieces. The fabric fell away in tatters, each tear a release of the pain and anger that had built up inside me.

"Ma'am!" Both workers shouted, grabbing my wrist.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked in surprise, grabbing my wrist. But I yanked it away, determined to finish what I had started.

"That's better," I said firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness.

"It's to celebrate our breakup," I pressed the bouquet on his head. "You look more like a bride than me," turn to leave the room.

"What?" he looked at me, his eyes with sadness and uncertainty.

Just as I reached the door, Zayn grabbed my hand, spinning me around to face him. "Stop right there! What has gotten into you?" I took a step forward, closing the space between us. "Tell me, whatever it is. If you're upset, we should talk it out."

"I don't have time for that."

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

"I have no time to waste now," I whisper desperately.

"Then…" he swallowed the remaining words. "Where are you going right now?" he asked after a long pause, his voice heavy with emotion.

I looked into his eyes, seeing the pain made me happy even more. "To announce our break up to my family," I took a deep pause before I started speaking. "And to the person you love, Elena."