The Second chance begin

Morning arrived quietly, slipping into the room on soft feet.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, pale and hesitant, as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm. I opened my eyes and lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling above me.

My wedding night.

Again.

Even after waking up safely in my bed, my heart still raced when fragments of my previous life crept into my thoughts, Selena’s cold eyes, the staircase, the pain, the darkness. I pressed my palm against my chest, grounding myself.

I was alive. And this time, I would live differently.

I got dressed neatly, choosing a simple but elegant outfit professional, calm, controlled. The woman in the mirror no longer looked like someone desperate for affection. She looked like someone who had survived death.

By the time I arrived at William Group of Companies, it was already eight past eight. Morning at the office was as busy as ever employees walking briskly, heels clicking, voices murmuring about meetings and deadlines.

Nothing had changed. Yet everything had.

I took my seat, organizing files and reviewing documents, my mind focused and sharp. Work had always been my refuge, something I could control when everything else felt uncertain.

Still, my thoughts wandered.

Last night replayed itself in my head: William sitting in the dark, his sharp gaze, the surprise in his eyes when I refused to bow. For the first time, I hadn’t shrunk under his presence.

And strangely enough, he hadn’t stopped me. A faint smile touched my lips before I quickly suppressed it.

Before long, I completed my tasks for the morning. I checked the time again.

10:30 a.m.

Early too early for someone usually chained to their desk.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and informed the assistant that I needed to step out. No one questioned me. After all, William’s grandfather had personally ordered that I work here. My position, though unofficial, carried weight.

As I stepped out of the building, a breeze brushed against my face, carrying with it the scent of freedom. I was leaving early. Not to escape. But to reunite.

My childhood friend,Demian.

We had grown up together, shared scraped knees, stolen laughter, and whispered dreams by the lake. When life tore us apart, he had left the country, staying in Italy for the past five years. Distance and time had stretched between us, but the bond had never truly faded.

Meeting him again felt like opening a door I had long believed was sealed forever.

The café was quiet when I arrived, warm sunlight spilling through wide windows. I spotted him immediately.

Jemia stood up the moment he saw me.

For a second, we simply stared at each other.

Then he smiled. The same smile.

“Still staring like you don’t believe I’m real?” he teased.

I laughed softly, my chest tightening. “I thought I was dreaming.”

He pulled me into a brief, careful hug nothing improper, just familiar and comforting. “You’ve changed,” he said as we sat down. “But… you look stronger.”

I looked down at my cup of coffee, the steam curling upward. “I had to.”

We talked for hours, catching up on lost time his life abroad, my struggles, the years that had passed too quickly. I didn’t tell him everything. Not yet. Some wounds were still too fresh to expose.

But being with him reminded me of who I was before pain reshaped me.

Unburdened. Hopeful. For a moment, I forgot where I belonged now.

I forgot that I was married.

I forgot that every step I took was being watched.

Back at the company shadows gathered quietly.

William stood by the window of his office, phone in hand, listening to a report he hadn’t asked for but received anyway.

“She left the office early,” the assistant said cautiously. “She met someone. A man.”

William’s grip tightened.

“Who?”

“From what we gathered… a childhood friend. He just returned to the country.”

Silence followed.

William dismissed the call, his expression unreadable. A childhood friend.

He didn’t know why the thought unsettled him. He turned away from the window, memories flashing briefly my calm eyes last night, my refusal to explain myself, my sudden distance.

For the first time since the marriage, something unfamiliar stirred within him.Not anger. Not indifference. But an uneasy sense of loss.

And far away, unaware of the shift I had caused, I laughed softly at a café table rewriting my fate, one choice at a time.