Chapter 2

It was Julian’s mom who delivered the slap.

Before I could process what was happening, her hand came swinging again.

Julian’s aunt, grandaunt, cousins, and sisters-in-law packed half the room, forming a dark, suffocating wall.

They all glared at me with pure disgust.

Julian leaned against the window outside, watching me with icy detachment.

Confused and disoriented despite taking two hard slaps to the face, I still forced an apologetic smile.

“What happened—”

“Shut your mouth!”

Julian’s mom cut me off sharply, her face flushed red with rage as she glared at me.

“What a shameless slut you are!”

I clutched my burning cheek, still unable to wrap my head around it.

Laura rushed in through the door.

“Hazel, how could you do something like that?”

I looked down at the phone screen she shoved in front of me.

Inside a fitting room, a half-naked woman was pinned against the mirror by a man.

The woman was me.

My stomach churned as if caught in a vice.

“That’s not me!”

I shoved the phone away.

“That’s not me! I never did that! Laura, you were waiting right outside! Julian was there too! You both know—I was with you the whole time—I was even talking to you while changing—”

“Hazel.”

Laura took half a step back as if frightened by me.

She lowered her eyes, tears glistening on her lashes, her voice so soft it was as if she was afraid of waking someone.

“You were inside for almost an hour, and when I called out to you, you didn’t answer... I really had no idea what you were doing in there the whole time.”

I froze in my bed.

Almost an hour.

The zipper on the mermaid gown had gotten stuck, and I had called out to her thrice asking for help.

From behind the curtain, she kept saying, “Coming, I’m coming.” All while I stood inside clutching my chest, waiting in vain.

Now she was claiming she had no idea what went on inside.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Julian finally turned around from the window. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with disgust.

“Doing that kinda thing in a fitting room—you really are desperate.”

My mouth opened and shut.

“Julian, what are you saying—”

“I said you’re a desperate slut.”

I was chilled to the bone.

The car jolted violently.

I came back to reality from memory’s lane.

I looked down at the steering wheel, my back drenched in sweat that glued my shirt to the seat.

That was another lifetime.

Things had not happened yet. There was still time.

I started the engine, shifted gears, and released the brake.

Three navigation routes popped up on the center console, winding in different colors toward the same destination:

The bridal boutique.

In my past life, I had chose the clearest route.

When I arrived, I even congratulated myself on avoiding the multi-car pileup on West Ring Road.

In the fitting room, I had smiled and said to Laura, “Luck’s on my side today.”

My hands gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles tightening around it.

I yanked the wheel all the way to the right, swinging the car onto West Ring Road.

I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal.

The GPS blared a sharp off-route warning.

I ignored it.

My phone on the dashboard would not stop vibrating.

Julian’s voice messages popped up one after another.

Laura’s voice messages came in even faster.

I let out a scoff.

The pair had never been this concerned over me before.

Five hundred yards ahead, every brake light suddenly slammed on red.

A sharp screech of tires grinding against asphalt echoed from a distance, the sound of a wild beast having its throat slit.

Then came the crunch of metal.

A multi-car pileup.

Less than two hundred yards ahead of me.

I checked my rearview mirror.

A silver-gray van was barreling down from behind.

It was moving too fast, swaying wildly between lanes the way a drunk person would move.

The driver probably hadn’t seen the crash up ahead.

By the time he reacted and slammed the brakes, white smoke billowed from the tires scraping against the road, but it was already too late.

The vehicle slammed into the rear of my car, sounding like a sledgehammer smashing through the rear windshield.

The momentum violently threw my body into the steering wheel as the airbag puffed out, slamming straight into my chest.

A faint snap sounded from my ribs, crisp as a snapping twig.

Agony exploded in the center of my chest.

I was pinned flat against the seat, a metallic taste of blood rising in my throat.

I checked the time: 3:50 PM.

In my past life, I had stepped in the fitting room just minutes before.

Into what they had planned out for me.

In my past life, I had walked into that fitting room with a smile. This time round, I was waiting for an ambulance to wheel me into the ER.

I’d love to find out how someone lying in an ER ward with broken ribs could manage to be in a fitting room at the exact same time.