Chapter 15: Second Life

I wake earlier than usual, my body stirring before my mind can catch up. Something feels… off. Not wrong exactly — just unfamiliar, like I’ve been pulled from somewhere I wasn’t meant to leave.

My sleep has been erratic lately — probably from yesterday’s nap after I fainted — but this feels different.

I reach for my phone in the dark, my hand brushing against something warm.

Wet.

I freeze.

A memory surfaces — faint but undeniable. Not quite a dream, not quite real. Just… there.

This moment.

This bed.

This feeling.

Pain.

Blood.

Doctors speaking in hushed tones about a miscarriage.

Twins.

My breath catches as the memory settles deeper. I don’t remember ever being pregnant, yet the knowledge sits heavy in my chest like it belongs to me. Multiple birth. High risk. Missed symptoms. Too busy to notice.

Too late.

Slowly, I turn on the light.

The sheets are soaked in blood.

My stomach drops — but I don’t scream. Don’t panic. Don’t cry.

Because I already know.

A quiet grief washes over me instead, suffocating and still. This has already happened. Somehow… impossibly… it’s happening again.

This time, I don’t call Vance.

I won’t make that mistake twice.

I clean myself up in silence, using makeup wipes with trembling hands. The cramps intensify, sharp and relentless, but I force myself to keep moving. From down the hall, muffled sounds echo through the penthouse.

Thud.

Moan.

I pause, my jaw tightening.

Of course.

Even now.

Even like this… they don’t stop.

I say nothing. Feel nothing. Just move.

I slip on an overnight pad, grab my phone and keys, and leave quietly. The time reads 3:16 AM. The numbers linger in my mind longer than they should, like they mean something I can’t quite reach.

The elevator ride is slow. Painfully slow.

Each second stretches as the cramps worsen, my body folding in on itself. By the time the doors open, I can’t move. My legs won’t respond, my breathing shallow and uneven.

For a brief, terrifying moment, a thought settles in—

This is where I die.

The doors slide shut again.

Time blurs.

Then the elevator begins to move again — ascending.

My heart spikes.

Vance.

The thought sends a chill through me. I jab weakly at the ground floor button, panic clawing its way up my chest.

The elevator doesn’t stop.

It keeps going.

The doors open.

Footsteps rush in.

Strong arms lift me from the floor, pulling me against a solid chest. I don’t fight it. I don’t have the strength to.

“I don’t want to die…” I sob weakly.

I’m carried out, placed gently onto a sofa. My body feels like it’s shutting down piece by piece.

Then—

A cool cloth presses against my forehead.

Careful hands clean the blood from my legs. There’s hesitation — restraint — something unfamiliar.

This isn’t Vance.

“Sorry to call you at an ungodly hour, Dr Laura. I found her in the lift,” a voice says.

Another voice follows, sharp with concern.

“What are they doing to this poor girl?!”

Recognition hits.

Az-hole.

Relief crashes over me so suddenly it almost hurts.

“Thank you… both,” I whisper.

⸻

By 5:55 AM, I’m in a private hospital suite far nicer than anything I expected. Doctors confirm what I already knew. The pain has dulled, replaced by a hollow ache.

Twins.

Gone.

“If your husband hadn’t gotten you here in time, things could’ve been much worse,” a nurse says.

I lace my fingers with Azriel’s before he can respond.

“Yes,” I say softly. “I’m very lucky.”

He plays along — but I feel the warning in it.

Once we’re alone, I pull away and grab my phone.

Reddit notifications flood my screen.

I open my original post.

⸻

Posted by u/anonymoususer

Has anyone had recurring déjà vu?

I’m trying to make sense of my day but nothing adds up. I swear certain things have already happened — like I’ve lived them before. I predicted a meeting perfectly, I’ve had multiple moments where I knew what someone would say before they said it.

Even things like… I thought the Queen had already passed away, but apparently she hasn’t yet.

I don’t know if I’m losing it or if anyone else has experienced something similar.

⸻

Dozens of responses.

Most useless.

One isn’t.

I click it.

⸻

u/unknownuser replied:

I came on here searching for answers too.

I think I’m experiencing the same thing. But for me it’s one recurring “dream”… except it doesn’t feel like a dream.

I’m carrying a woman. She’s barely conscious, begging me not to take her to the hospital. I ignore her. I try to keep her alive myself.

I fail.

I take her to the hospital anyway after weeks. She dies.

There’s a man there — I think her father — crying her name over and over again.

I can’t get the name out of my head.

⸻

My fingers hover over the screen before I type.

“What name?”

The reply comes almost instantly.

⸻

u/unknownuser:

Lottie.

What’s even crazier is… I met her today.

I think I’ve been reborn.

And I think I’m supposed to make sure she lives this time.

⸻

My heart stops.

The monitor beside me spikes erratically.

“Charlotte,” Azriel says sharply. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t answer him.

Instead, I type one word.

“Az-hole?”

His phone vibrates.

He checks it.

Freezes.

Then slowly looks up at me.

“You,” he breathes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why are you everywhere? In person, online… even in my dreams?”

Everything clicks.

“Tell me the dream,” I say quietly.

He hesitates.

“Wait… does that mean you’ve been reborn too?”

The word settles between us.

Reborn.

Impossible.

Yet the only thing that makes sense.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

But I do.

It hits me all at once.

The hospital.

The paralysis.

Vance.

Anya.

The betrayal.

The poison.

My death.

And him.

Trying to save me.

Too late.

“I didn’t imagine it,” I say, my voice steady now. “I lived it.”

He doesn’t interrupt.

“I died,” I continue. “And somehow… I’ve been brought back.”

Silence fills the room.

Heavy. Final.

I meet his gaze, something unshakable settling deep within me.

“This isn’t déjà vu,” I say.

A pause.

Then—

“This is my second life.”