The hospital room was quiet—too quiet.
The kind of silence that only follows after hope has already walked out the door.
Amara's breaths came in short, ragged gasps. Her hand trembled as she gripped the sweat-soaked hospital sheet, her swollen belly rising and falling with the strain of every breath. Pain tore through her like fire, but the deeper agony was emotional—not physical.
Where was he?
Where was her husband?
The man she had loved with everything—her heart, her soul, her youth—was nowhere to be found when she needed him most.
"Ma'am, stay with us!" a nurse urged, her voice tight with panic. Another was adjusting wires and calling for the doctor.
But Amara knew.
She could feel it.
She was dying.
"Please…" she whispered hoarsely, barely louder than a breath. "Save my baby… please…"
The words burned her throat, but she forced them out with the last bits of strength she had left. The nurse gave her a weak smile, the kind that tried to hide the truth.
A loud beep filled the room as a monitor flatlined for a second—then flickered back.
Amara clutched her belly with shaking fingers. She wasn't ready to die. Not yet. Not like this.
She had so many things left unsaid.
So many secrets buried.
She had been married to Caleb Donovan, the cold-hearted billionaire CEO of Donovan Group. The man who swept her into his world of gold and power—and left her abandoned like a dirty secret.
Their marriage had never been built on love. It was a deal. A show. A lie.
And yet, somehow, Amara had fallen for him.
Stupid. Foolish. Blind.
And now she was dying, alone in a hospital bed, carrying the child of a man who probably didn't even remember her birthday.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She reached for her phone on the bedside table with the last bit of strength she had. Her vision blurred, but she managed to unlock it and start a voice recording.
"My name is Amara Levi…" she whispered.
Her voice cracked as another wave of pain slammed into her chest.
"If anyone finds this… tell my baby I loved them. More than anything. Tell Caleb…"
She stopped.
What was she going to say? That she forgave him? That she wanted him to raise their child?
No.
He didn't deserve either of them.
Her hand slipped. The phone fell to the floor with a soft thud. She didn't have the strength to pick it up.
Her vision dimmed. The machines screamed again.
And then everything faded… to black.
---
But that wasn't the end.
A strange warmth pulsed through her.
Her eyelids fluttered open.
She gasped—sitting up in bed.
But not the hospital bed.
Her bed.
Her old bed.
The small one in her first apartment. The room was dimly lit by soft daylight filtering through the purple curtains she remembered tossing out two years ago. Her cracked mirror hung on the wall—exactly where it used to be before Caleb bought her a luxury condo.
Her fingers trembled as she touched her face. Her belly—flat.
No blood. No pain.
"What… what is this?" she whispered.
She stumbled to the dresser and grabbed her phone. The screen blinked:
Date: August 18, 2023.
Her knees buckled.
This was two years ago.
The day before everything started to fall apart.
Before the fake engagement.
Before the humiliation.
Before the pregnancy.
Before the death.
Her phone buzzed again.
📱 Caleb Donovan: "Dinner tonight. Don't be late."
The message nearly made her drop the phone.
How could this be happening?
She was dead. She had died. She remembered the pain, the coldness, the regret.
But now…
She was back.
Alive. And with a second chance.
A sharp knock on the door snapped her back to reality. Her roommate, Jenna, peeked in. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
Amara laughed softly—bitterly.
"Something like that."
She turned back to the mirror. Her reflection stared at her—young, unbroken, but haunted.
This time, she wasn't going to be the fool.
She wasn't going to fall for his fake kindness, his twisted games.
She would protect herself. She would protect her child.
And most of all—
Caleb Donovan would never get the chance to ruin her again.