The moment he saw the caller ID, the hostility in his eyes softened into something gentle.
“Hello, Belle? You’re back from your trip? I’ll come pick you up at the airport.”
After hanging up, he dressed in haste. Even while tying his tie, he didn’t forget to throw a warning at me.
“Jeanne, it’s one thing for you to stoop to such cheap tricks, but if you ever try anything like this with Belle, I’ll make sure you learn what it means to live a fate worse than death.”
I wanted to cry, but no tears came, only a crushing, endless exhaustion.
And today, that exhaustion finally drowned me.
Staring at Lysander’s cold, distant figure standing below, I closed my eyes and jumped without hesitation.
With a sharp crash, my body met the ground.
My body hit the ground, bounced once, then crumpled again, limbs twisted, skull shattered, blood pooling in every direction.
It was so horrific, even the birds overhead seemed to wail in mourning.
But Lysander, he didn’t so much as blink.
With chilling calmness, he called the police, the ambulance, and informed my parents.
And I thought, maybe this was for the best. Maybe in death, they would finally love me.
But heaven never granted me that wish.
The first to arrive was my father. He froze when he saw my broken form. His brows furrowed, then instantly relaxed when he heard I was already gone.
“So Jeanne’s really dead. I suppose that’s for the best. We didn’t treat her badly while she was alive, but she was always unhappy.”
My mother came next. By then, a white sheet had been pulled over my body.
She took one glance, shut her eyes as if startled, but then let out a breath of relief.
“Jeanne was too sensitive,” she whispered to my father. “Her death might be a relief. For her… and for us.”
The third to arrive was my older brother.
Watching them zip my broken body into a black body bag, he let out a cold laugh.
“Jeanne, I told you, someone as weak as you was never worthy of being part of this family.”
The last to appear was Belle.
She hadn’t even reached me when Lysander pulled her into his arms, gently shielding her eyes.
“Belle, it’s filthy. Don’t look.”
Belle shoved him away, tears streaming down her face.
“Lysander, how could you say that about my sister? She died because of me; it’s my fault. I killed her!”
My brother quickly stepped forward, his tone coaxing.
“Belle, her death has nothing to do with you. Don’t waste your tears on someone like her.”
Then my parents joined in, their voices tender and doting.
“Belle, tomorrow is your birthday. Let’s throw you a beautiful party, alright?”
One honeyed word after another, they coaxed Belle into smiling again, her face glowing like nothing had happened.
No one spared a glance at my bloodied, lifeless body as the entire family walked away, cheerful and united.
When they got into the car, Belle turned back and looked in my direction, her eyes gleaming with the pride of a victor.
I wanted to run after them, to scream, did any of you remember that tomorrow was my birthday too?
But my soul was frozen, trapped in that very spot, unable to move, unable to leave.
And in that moment, regret struck hard.
If I had the chance to start over, I wouldn’t waste a single tear on them.
I would love myself with everything I had.
In a daze, I heard the chime of midnight strike twelve.
A soft breeze brushed gently across my cheek, like a whisper from fate.
When I opened my eyes, I was stunned to find myself back on the very day I had been brought home to the Gomez family.
I wore a faded plaid shirt and worn jeans, standing alone on a dusty country road as the driver loaded my few pitiful belongings into the trunk.
His familiar face made my heart stutter, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell what was real.
In my past life, when I first saw him, I had nervously asked if he was my father.
He had stared at me in stunned silence before finally telling me the truth.
My parents and older brother had all flown to the Maldives, celebrating Belle’s coming-of-age ceremony.
