Chapter 61: Rose pov

Rose Kane POVFour days ago…

Rose's eyes snapped open, and she found herself sitting alone in a room that looked oddly familiar. She blinked, trying to place her surroundings. "This… this doesn't look like my home," she whispered, glancing around. It felt unsettlingly like the room she had stayed in during college, that old hotel suite she'd rented when she was studying abroad. But that couldn't be right.

That was years ago, nearly a lifetime away.

She rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of it. Maybe this was some strange, vivid dream. But as she looked around, every detail every piece of furniture, the exact shade of paint on the walls, the faint scent of lavender that lingered from her old candle habit felt real. Too real to be a dream. She exhaled sharply, feeling an odd sensation creeping up her spine.

Standing, she walked towards the mirror on the far side of the room. She was about to turn away, thinking it was all just some trick of her mind, when she saw it her reflection. The face looking back at her was… her own, but not quite. Her skin was smoother, almost luminous. There was a softness in her features that she'd lost with age and stress.

She raised a hand to her cheek, pressing down, her fingers trembling. She looked younger. This was the face she'd had in college, the face she hadn't seen in years.

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"Is this… a dream?" she murmured to herself, a pang of confusion and disbelief mingling in her chest. She felt a spark of hope, but suppressed it almost instantly, not daring to believe it. To ground herself, she pinched her cheek hard enough to sting. "Ow!" The sharp pain confirmed what she feared and hoped for all at once.

Desperately, she fumbled in her jeans pocket, finding her phone. Her heart sank even further. The phone model was old, a model she remembered owning in her early twenties. She opened the screen with shaking fingers, but her pulse raced as she registered the date displayed on the screen. She was back. Six years back.

Rose's hands trembled, clutching the phone as if it were her lifeline. She closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths, feeling her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears. "It's… it's real. I'm here," she whispered, but the words felt hollow. Opening her eyes, she stared down at her phone, her mind whirling in disbelief.

And then a thought hit her. A memory, sharp and unbearable, clawed its way to the surface. Without a second thought, she typed his name, letter by trembling letter: Lucian Kane suicide.

She hit enter and held her breath, waiting for that dreadful article to appear, the one that had haunted her for years, that had cemented her regrets and her shame. But the screen loaded and… nothing. No articles, no news pieces, no records of his death. Lucian's name was nowhere to be found in relation to a suicide or death.

Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to her mouth as tears flooded her eyes. She tried to hold them back, but the dam broke. Hot, silent tears poured down her cheeks, each one a release of the years of guilt, regret, and buried sorrow she had held in since he died.

In her previous life, Lucian's death had hit her with a force she hadn't expected, shattering every carefully constructed wall she'd built around herself. She had brushed him aside, ignored him as if he were invisible, all while thinking it didn't matter. But his death had torn through her like a storm, ripping away the fog that had clouded her feelings.

A faint, almost disbelieving smile formed on her lips. "I'm… I'm back," she whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. "Lucian… thank god." It felt surreal, like a gift she didn't deserve but desperately needed. She could hardly believe that she was getting a second chance a chance to undo everything, to erase the cold indifference she had shown him, to actually be there for him.

Images from her past life flashed through her mind, each memory sharper, more painful than the last. Lucian had always been there, in his quiet way, looking to her with that hope in his eyes, a quiet yearning she had brushed aside.

In those moments, she had only seen him as a younger brother who didn't need her attention, someone she'd felt oddly uncomfortable around, though she could never fully explain why.

But now, she could see it all for what it was Lucian wasn't some distant shadow she could easily ignore. He had been reaching out, time and time again, asking for something she was too blind to give.

She struggled to understand why she had always felt so cold toward him. Whenever Lucian had been nearby, there was always a strange, unexplainable discomfort that made her turn away, an invisible barrier that seemed to mute any feelings of warmth or connection. It wasn't until after his death that she'd felt it lift, that the fog clouding her feelings toward him had finally dissipated.

But by then, it was too late.

The night she had learned about his passing had been a harsh awakening, like a brutal strike to her heart. She remembered sitting in silence, feeling as if a veil had been torn from her mind, revealing the depths of what she'd refused to feel for so long. Emotions she hadn't allowed herself to process came rushing forward regret, sorrow, even love.

Every memory of him was sharper, every smile he had given her that she'd ignored felt like an accusation. S~eaʀᴄh the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

She'd always believed that Lucian was someone she could afford to push aside, someone who didn't need her. She hadn't noticed the quiet pain behind his smiles or the way his eyes would dim slightly whenever she turned away. It wasn't until he was gone, until the finality of his absence hit her, that she truly saw him.

It was then, sitting alone and filled with a hollow grief, that the fog finally cleared, and she realized just how much she'd lost.

The strangest part was that she couldn't even pinpoint why she had acted that way in the first place. It felt like something beyond her control, as if her heart had been hardened without her knowledge. And after his death, when she could finally feel the full weight of her emotions for him, the grief felt all the more unbearable.

It was as if the universe had played a cruel joke on her, allowing her to see the truth only when it was too late to change anything.

"Why?" she whispered, her voice choked, each word thick with regret as if the weight of years had pressed it into her. She didn't understand why she had acted the way she did, why there was always that unexplainable impulse to turn away, to dismiss him whenever he tried to reach out. All she knew now was that she had failed him her brother who, even in his silence, had reached for her so many times.

And whatever shadow had clouded her heart, whatever force had obscured her love for him, had left her with a wound that she feared would never heal, no matter how many lives she lived.

She reached out, only to realize her phone had slipped from her grasp and tumbled onto the floor. Her hands trembled as she picked it up, the cold glass suddenly feeling too heavy, as if it carried the weight of her hopes. With trembling fingers, she punched in Lucian's number, heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. He must be alive, she thought desperately.

At this point in time, he has to be.

The dial tone rang, slow and methodical, filling the room with its empty, hollow sound. But no one picked up. She held her breath, waiting, the seconds stretching painfully, each beat of silence amplifying her heart's racing fear.

Why isn't he answering? Panic flared within her, a wild thrum that took hold as she tried to rationalize the silence. Maybe he misplaced his phone, or he's just in the shower… he could be anywhere right now, she told herself, clinging to that faint hope. But he wouldn't ignore me not Lucian. If he knew I was calling, he'd be thrilled... wouldn't he?

He'd be ecstatic, right?

Memories began to swirl, her mind flooded with images of missed calls, moments where Lucian had tried reaching out to her over the years, and she had simply been "too busy," too indifferent to care. Her hands tightened around the phone as the shame hit her like a wave, each unanswered call a wound she hadn't even realized she'd inflicted.

"Pick up... please," she whispered, voice breaking as she held the phone to her ear, each ring piercing through her like a cruel reminder. Her mind raced with reasons, excuses, searching desperately for something to justify her own regret. Maybe he's really just out of reach, somewhere with no reception. Maybe he lost his phone. Maybe...

As her heart pleaded with each ring, a sudden, unbearable pain erupted in her head. She gasped, clutching her skull, the phone slipping from her hands as an excruciating wave tore through her mind. It felt as if her very memories were being split open, a dam bursting within her as long-forgotten images poured into her consciousness.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her whole body trembling, as though some unseen force was prying her heart open, exposing every forgotten truth, every suppressed memory.

With a wrenching scream, she dropped to her knees, clutching her head as the memories crashed down like a tidal wave. Fractured, half-formed images flashed before her, each one painful and vivid, like fragments of a past she had once chosen to ignore but could no longer deny.

ahhhhhhh

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