Amara sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. The room looked exactly the same as it had two years ago—down to the faded calendar on the wall and the stack of cheap romance novels by the window.
This was real.
It wasn't a dream.
She had died… but she had come back.
The disbelief in her chest slowly turned into something sharper. Anger. Regret. Determination.
> "God gave me another chance… and I won't waste it."
Her phone buzzed again in her palm. Another message from Caleb Donovan, the man who ruined her life.
📱 "Don't embarrass me tonight. Wear something decent."
Her fingers trembled, not from sadness this time—but from rage. Just two years ago, this same message would've made her panic. She would've run to her closet, desperate to look perfect for him, hoping for a word of praise or even a glance.
Not this time.
She threw the phone on the bed, stood up, and walked to the mirror. The reflection staring back at her was younger, softer—but her eyes looked different now.
Colder.
Stronger.
> "You won't control me again, Caleb," she whispered. "Not this time."
---
She took a long shower, letting the water run down her back. She touched her flat belly and closed her eyes.
She remembered the tiny kicks, the sound of her baby's heartbeat during the ultrasounds, the soft flutter of life inside her. And the pain of losing it all alone in that hospital bed while Caleb flirted with another woman at a business event.
She had loved that baby with all her soul.
And Caleb never even knew the child existed.
> "This time, I'll protect my child. You'll never touch us."
She stepped out of the shower, dried off, and pulled open her closet. Her dresses were all modest, simple—things she used to wear to impress Caleb's high-society friends.
She shoved them aside and picked a plain black jumpsuit. No makeup. No perfume.
> "Let's see if he notices me now," she muttered.
---
By 7:00 PM, she arrived at The Orchid Room, the fancy rooftop restaurant where Caleb was waiting. It was the same place they had their first fake date—where he publicly introduced her as his "fiancée" to impress shareholders. She had thought it meant something. Thought it was the start of love.
> It was all lies.
She walked in with her chin high, eyes scanning the room until they landed on him.
There he was.
Caleb Donovan.
The same striking man with a powerful aura and cold, calculating eyes. Dressed in a dark tailored suit, with his Rolex watch gleaming under the chandelier light.
He looked up—and paused.
His gaze scanned her, confused by her outfit, perhaps. No heels. No lipstick. No need to impress him.
"Amara," he said with a frown, standing slowly. "You're late."
"I'm on time," she replied coolly, sliding into the seat opposite him.
His brow furrowed. "I said 6:50."
She picked up the menu without meeting his eyes. "And I arrived at 7:00. If ten minutes can ruin your schedule, maybe you should've eaten alone."
Caleb blinked. He wasn't used to this version of her. The old Amara would've apologized, flustered and nervous. This one? She didn't even look guilty.
He sat down, folding his hands together. "I have a charity event next week. I need you to come with me and behave properly."
> There it was—his tone. Not a request. A command.
Amara smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Behave? Like smile and pretend we're in love?"
Caleb narrowed his eyes. "That's what we agreed on, isn't it?"
"You mean your contract?" she asked, setting down her menu. "Your fake fiancée, in exchange for helping my father's company?"
He didn't respond. That was the truth, after all.
> In her last life, she agreed to play the role. To fake affection. To dance like a puppet in his cold little game.
And she fell for him anyway.
But not this time.
She leaned back. "I changed my mind."
His expression stiffened. "What did you say?"
"I said no." Her voice was calm. "No more pretending. No more charity dinners. No more Amara on a leash."
Caleb stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. "You do realize breaking the agreement will cost your father his company?"
Amara met his gaze, fire burning in her chest. "If my father's business can be destroyed by one man's arrogance, maybe he should've raised a stronger daughter."
For a long moment, Caleb said nothing.
The waitress approached, asking if they were ready to order. Caleb dismissed her with a wave. His attention was now locked entirely on Amara.
"You're not acting like yourself tonight," he said slowly.
"I'm not," she agreed. "I've learned. That's all."
"You're making a mistake."
"No," she replied, rising from her seat. "I made a mistake two years ago when I let a man like you own my time, my body, and eventually… my soul."
His jaw clenched. "Where are you going?"
"Home." She gave him a tight smile. "You'll figure something out. You always do. But I won't be your tool anymore."
Without waiting for a response, she walked away—her head held high, her heart racing. The first step toward freedom felt terrifying… but also powerful.
---
Outside, the cool air hit her skin like a splash of reality.
She took a deep breath.
Her phone buzzed again.
📱 Dad: "Sweetheart, I just got off the phone with Donovan's assistant. What's going on? Please don't mess this up for us."
Amara's heart squeezed. She loved her father. She did. And in her past life, she had sacrificed everything to save his failing business—even herself.
But in the end, none of it mattered. Caleb still tossed her aside. Her father still suffered. She still died.
Not this time.
📱 "Don't worry, Dad. I'll handle everything… in my own way."
---
Later that night, she sat alone in her small room, staring at her laptop. She opened a blank document and titled it:
> Plan for My Freedom
She listed everything she needed to do:
Step 1: Stay away from Caleb
Step 2: Find work. Earn money. Build something real
Step 3: If she gets pregnant again… tell no one
Step 4: Take back control of her life
No more pretending.
No more being someone's property.
> "This time," she whispered, staring out the window, "I'll write my own ending."
And it won't end in a hospital bed.
The night was quiet, but Amara's mind wasn't. She couldn't sleep — not with so many thoughts spinning inside her head.
The old her would have cried herself to sleep, mourning Caleb's coldness or her father's desperate calls. But now?
> "No more tears," she whispered, clutching the bedsheet. "If I'm going to survive this life, I need to be smarter… tougher."
She rolled out of bed, walked to her tiny desk, and opened her laptop again. The light glowed on her face in the dark as she began researching:
Investment tips. Freelance jobs. Starting a small business.
In her past life, she had relied too much on Caleb. She had never thought to build something of her own — something no one could take from her.
But this time, she'd rise without him.
Even if she had to start from zero.
> "They underestimated me once. Let's see what happens when I fight back."
---
The next morning, Amara woke up early. The sun had barely risen, but she felt more energized than she had in years.
She grabbed a notebook and scribbled her thoughts:
Goal 1: Find a part-time job
Goal 2: Save money quietly
Goal 3: Invest in a future only I control
Downstairs, she could hear her father pacing in the living room, muttering on the phone.
"Sir, I understand, but please give us more time," he was saying. "My daughter is still in contact with Mr. Donovan. We'll settle the debt."
Amara's heart sank — not with guilt this time, but with realization. Her father was still depending on the same toxic deal with Caleb. He hadn't learned, just like before.
> "Then I'll protect him, too," she whispered to herself. "But not by sacrificing myself again."
She walked downstairs calmly. Her father looked up, surprised.
"You're up early."
"I have things to do," she replied simply.
His gaze softened. "Did you speak to Caleb? You didn't upset him, did you?"
Amara walked over, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Dad… I love you. And I know you're trying to fix everything. But I'm not going to be anyone's pawn anymore. I'll find another way."
He looked confused and concerned, but didn't press her.
"I'm going out," she said, grabbing her bag. "I need to apply for a few things."
---
Amara spent the entire day walking around the city. She filled out job applications at local cafés, clothing shops, and even a small publishing company that needed part-time help.
It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't what someone like Caleb would ever approve of.
But it was hers. Honest work. A fresh start.
In the afternoon, she sat in a park with her phone and re-read her goals. She opened a note and added something new:
Goal 4: Keep my next pregnancy secret
That memory still haunted her. The day she found out she was pregnant… and the day she lost the baby without anyone by her side.
She wouldn't let anyone hurt her child again — not even the father.
---
As she stood to leave, her phone vibrated again.
📱 Caleb Donovan: "Meet me at the Donovan Group tower tomorrow at 10:00 AM. This discussion isn't over."
Amara stared at the screen, her fingers tightening around the phone. She considered ignoring it… blocking him even.
But no — she needed to face him. She needed to make it clear that she wasn't coming back.
Not as his fake fiancée.
Not as his plaything.
Not at all.
> "Let's finish this."