Chapter 2 Two

The first thing Drizella felt wasn't pain. It wasn't sadness, or even the smell of bleach and medicine like she expected from a hospital room. No, the first thing she felt was... soft. A soft pillow under her head.

Then, she heard birds chirping. Not machines beeping. Not Theodore crying.

Birds?

Her eyes flew open.

Sunlight poured in through the curtains - real sunlight, bright and warm and golden. The light danced across the walls, across the bookshelf stuffed with textbooks and romance paperbacks, across the old teddy bear with the missing button eye. That bear had been lost for years.

She knew this room.

Her heart stopped. Not in the scary, flatline way. But in the "oh my God, this cannot be happening" way.

This was her dorm room. From college. Freshman year.

She bolted upright, gasping. Her hand flew to her chest, expecting bruises, broken bones, something. But there was nothing. Her heart pounded like a drum, way too fast, but it was healthy. Her ribs didn't hurt. Her skin wasn't scraped or bandaged.

She jumped out of bed, her feet landing on the soft rug she used to complain about vacuuming. Her legs were strong. Her arms were fine. Everything was fine.

What?

She stared at the mirror leaning against the wall. A younger version of herself stared back. No dark circles under her eyes. No tear-stained cheeks. No stress lines from years of heartbreak.

It was her.

But not broken her. Not tired-of-life her.

This was her before Dante.

And that's when everything came crashing back. Not just the hospital. Not just the accident. But the *entire* story.

Every time Dante used her. Every fake smile. Every time he hugged someone else in front of her. Every party she cried at afterward. Every time she told herself he'd come around. He never did. He never would. He married Clara. And she... she died.

And now, somehow, she was here.

Alive.

Back in time.

Drizella's knees buckled, and she sat on the edge of the bed, her head spinning.

She was back. Really, truly back.

She didn't understand how. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe this was heaven. Maybe this was some weird punishment or reward or something in between. But it didn't matter.

Because she wasn't going to waste this.

She looked at the clock on her nightstand.

**October 12th, 7:30 AM.**

She knew this date. It was burned into her brain. This was the day she first "accidentally" ran into Dante by the fountain. The day her old self had spent hours getting ready for. The day her heart started its slow-motion crash.

Not this time.

Drizella stood up and walked to her closet. Last time, she wore a short dress, curled her hair for over an hour, even sprayed a perfume that made her sneeze just because Dante once said he liked it.

This time, she grabbed the first thing she saw - a baggy hoodie and some old jeans. She pulled her hair into a messy bun. No makeup. No mirror checks. No fake smiles.

It wasn't about being pretty. Not anymore.

It was about being *free*.

Her stomach growled loud enough to make her laugh a little. Last time, she skipped breakfast just so she'd get to campus early and "run into" Dante. That was so dumb. So sad.

Not today.

She grabbed her backpack, stuffed in a few things, and headed out the door toward the cafeteria.

The air hit her like a memory - cool and crisp and full of fall. Leaves crunched under her sneakers. Students laughed and walked by in big groups, talking about homework and concerts and other stuff that didn't matter much in the big picture. It was like she was walking through a memory but also a brand-new life.

Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag. She walked faster. Not toward the fountain. Not toward where she knew Dante would be.

She walked toward food. Because she was hungry. Because her body mattered.

Inside the cafeteria, it smelled like syrup and coffee and something fried. She hadn't been in here in years - not really. Not without her eyes scanning the room, desperate to see *him*. But now she looked for something else.

She looked for peace.

She grabbed a tray and filled it up like a warrior collecting armor: pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, a big cup of coffee. She didn't care if people looked. Let them. This was for her.

Then she saw him.

Dante.

Sitting right there, in the middle of everything, like he always was. His laugh still fake. His hair still perfect. He hadn't changed yet. He was still that same boy who ruined her, without even knowing it.

Her heart didn't skip. It didn't melt. It didn't even ache.

It stayed calm. Steady.

She turned away.

She picked a table in the far back, away from everyone. Her tray clattered as she set it down, but she didn't flinch. She sat, facing the window. Facing out. Away.

Each bite she took felt like a tiny victory.

This breakfast wasn't about being cute or cool or getting attention. It was about healing. She hadn't felt full in years - not really. And now, she ate like she deserved it. Because she did.

She pulled out her phone. No more checking Dante's feed. No more stalking his photos. She opened her college app and searched for the academic advisor's contact info. Her old schedule had been designed around him. Electives he liked. Times he was free.

No more.

This time, she'd pick classes *she* liked. Subjects that would lead her somewhere new. Somewhere better. Maybe she'd even study abroad. Maybe she'd apply for an internship. Something far from here. Far from him.

She paused for a second and took another sip of coffee. It was still too hot, but she didn't mind. It felt real.

People walked past her table, but no one noticed her. She wasn't glowing. She wasn't laughing. She wasn't crying. She was just *there*, alive in the moment, and that was enough.

Her phone buzzed. A message from her roommate.

> *"Hey! Are you skipping your lecture today??"*

She smiled and typed back.

> *"Yeah. Needed pancakes more than I needed calculus."*

She turned her phone over and looked out the window.

She felt grief in her bones. For the version of herself that never got this chance. The girl who died. The girl who gave everything to someone who gave nothing back. She wanted to cry for her. Hold her. Tell her she was worth more the whole time.

But at the same time, she felt power. Like lightning in her chest.

Because now, she got to do it all over.

She wouldn't chase anyone this time.

She wouldn't break her own heart trying to fix someone else's.

She wouldn't ruin Theodore.

God. Theodore.

Tears filled her eyes, fast and full.

He had tried so hard to save her. He gave her everything. Time. Kindness. Love. And she gave all her energy to someone else. And it had *killed* them both in different ways.

She would find him soon. Not yet - not like this. But soon.

And she would tell him he mattered. That he was worth everything. That he was her real anchor, her real friend. Maybe even... more. She didn't know yet. And that was okay.

This time, she'd give herself the space to find out.

She finished her food and stood. A new thought forming in her head. One word:

"Begin."

Not "restart." Not "redo." Not even "fix."

Just... begin.

Because this wasn't about revenge. Or regret. Or even rewriting the past.

This was about becoming someone who didn't need to be saved.

This time, she would save herself