Reborn With My Apocalypse Space

Chapter 1 — Three Months Before

Chloe's POV

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

There was no sound from the street outside, no cars passing, no voices, not even the distant barking of a dog. Three months ago, that kind of silence would have felt peaceful. Now, it meant danger.

I sat on the floor of an abandoned shop with my knees pulled against my chest, holding the last bottle of water I had left.

There was barely a quarter of it remaining.

I stared at it for a long time before taking a small sip. My throat was painfully dry, but I forced myself to stop after one mouthful. I didn't know when I would find water again.

That was how life had become.

Every sip mattered. Every piece of food mattered. Even a simple bottle of water could start a fight.

The apocalypse had changed everything.

It had started three months ago with strange reports of people becoming violent and attacking others without reason. Then the power went out. Communication systems began failing. Stores were emptied within days, and whatever food remained became more expensive than most people could afford.

Then the real chaos began.

People stopped trusting one another.

Families separated.

Friends betrayed friends.

And I had learned that lesson the hardest way possible.

I looked down at the small knife in my hand.

Daniel had given it to me.

The memory made my chest hurt.

Before everything happened, Daniel had been the person I trusted most. We had been together for almost three years, and when the apocalypse started, I thought we would survive it together.

I was wrong.

Three days ago, he had taken the last of our food and promised he would find somewhere safer for us.

"I'll come back for you, Chloe," he'd said while holding my face.

I had believed him.

God, I had actually believed him.

He never came back.

Instead, I found him yesterday in a settlement several streets away. He was surrounded by people who had food, weapons, and clean water.

I thought he would be relieved to see me.

I thought he would run toward me.

Instead, he looked at me as if I were a stranger.

"Daniel," I had whispered.

He glanced around before meeting my eyes.

"You shouldn't have followed me."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You left me."

"I had to."

"You promised you'd come back."

His expression hardened. "Things are different now."

That was all he had to say.

When I asked him to let me stay with them, he refused.

There was another woman standing beside him. She was wearing clean clothes and holding a rifle, and Daniel kept one hand protectively around her waist.

I didn't even need to ask who she was.

"You replaced me?" My voice had cracked when I said it.

Daniel looked away.

That hurt more than anything.

I had walked back alone, carrying nothing but the knife he had given me.

My family had already abandoned me before him.

When the apocalypse began, I had called my parents and begged them to let me come home. My mother cried and told me they didn't have enough food for everyone.

I later discovered my younger brother and his wife were living with them.

There had been room for them.

Just not for me.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and leaned against the wall.

I was tired.

So tired.

For three months, I had been running, hiding, searching for food, and trying not to become another body lying on the street.

I wanted to believe tomorrow would be better.

But deep down, I knew it wouldn't.

A loud bang suddenly came from the front of the shop.

I froze.

Another bang followed.

Someone was trying to get inside.

I quickly stood up and tightened my grip on the knife.

"Please, just go away," I whispered.

The door shook again.

Then it broke open.

A man stepped inside.

His eyes immediately landed on the bottle in my hand.

"Give me that."

I backed away.

"I don't have anything else."

He laughed. "You expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth."

He moved toward me, and I raised the knife.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he rushed forward.

I tried to defend myself, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted it until I cried out. The knife fell from my hand.

"Where's your food?"

"I don't have any."

He shoved me hard against the wall.

My head struck it, and everything around me spun.

I slid toward the floor, trying to stay conscious.

He kicked me in the stomach.

Pain shot through my body.

I curled up, gasping for air, while he searched the room.

He found my water.

When he turned back toward me, I knew exactly what was going to happen.

I wanted to run.

I wanted to scream.

But my body wouldn't move.

As he raised his weapon, a strange calm came over me.

Maybe this was really the end.

My thoughts went to Daniel.

Then my family.

I wondered if they would ever know how I died.

A bitter smile touched my lips.

Probably not.

I closed my eyes.

And waited.

I woke up with a gasp.

My hands flew to my stomach.

No pain.

I touched my head.

Nothing.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

It was my bedroom ceiling.

I sat up so quickly that I nearly fell from the bed.

"What?"

I looked around.

My curtains were still hanging by the window. My old desk was beside the wall, exactly where I had left it. The clothes I had abandoned months ago were still piled on the chair.

I slowly climbed out of bed.

My legs were steady.

There was no injury.

No blood.

No broken bones.

I hurried to the mirror.

The woman staring back at me was me, but she looked different.

Younger.

Healthier.

There were no dark circles beneath my eyes. My cheeks weren't hollow from hunger, and there were no scars on my face.

I touched my reflection.

"How...?"

My phone suddenly caught my attention.

It was lying on the bedside table.

I grabbed it and looked at the screen.

March 12, 2026.

I stopped breathing.

I checked again.

Then I checked the calendar hanging on the wall.

March 12.

My hands began to tremble.

"No."

I knew this date.

I remembered it because three months later, on June 12, the world had ended.

The first wave had arrived that morning.

I had spent weeks believing the strange incidents were temporary. Everyone had.

We had been completely unprepared.

But I knew better now.

I had lived through it.

I had died in it.

Somehow, I had been given another chance.

I slowly sat on the edge of my bed.

Three months.

I had three months before the apocalypse began.

For a long moment, I simply stared at the floor.

Then I thought about Daniel.

My mother.

My brother.

All the people who had left me behind.

The fear I had felt in my previous life slowly turned into something else.

Determination.

I wasn't going to beg anyone for help this time.

I wasn't going to wait until the shelves were empty.

I wasn't going to spend another night wondering where my next meal would come from.

If this second chance was real, then I would use every day I had.

I picked up my phone and looked at the date one more time.

March 12.

Three months.

Last time, I had nothing.

This time, I had three months to prepare.