Chapter 1: The Day It Begins Again
The first thing I felt was the weight of my own breath.
It was shallow, hitched in my throat, and remarkably warm. I shouldn’t have been able to feel warmth. The last thing I remembered was the freezing Seoul rain and the biting scent of asphalt as my life leaked out onto the road.
I bolted upright.
My heart hammered against my ribs a frantic, living pulse. I wasn’t on a cold street. I was in my bedroom in Hannam dong. The sunlight streaming through the silk curtains was blinding, hitting the vanity mirror and throwing a sharp glint across my face.
I reached up to touch my throat. No blood. No pain.
I scrambled out of bed and stood before the mirror. My skin was flushed, my eyes clear of the hallowed, exhausted look I had carried for years. I looked younger. I looked whole.
I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. The date blinked back at me.
It was today. The exact day Min-jae brought her here.
A laugh threatened to bubble up in my chest, but I choked it down. In my past life, this was the day my slow execution began. I had spent that morning picking out Min-jae’s favorite silk tie and ordering fresh lilies for the foyer. I had been the perfect, devoted wife, completely oblivious to the wolf he was leading through our front door.
Not this time.
I walked to the vanity and picked up a heavy crystal perfume bottle. My hands were shaking. I forced them to go still. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of expensive roses the scent of the woman who used to be a victim.
I would not react emotionally. Anger was a luxury I couldn’t afford yet, and tears were a waste of moisture.
I looked at my reflection again. The patient, quiet Yerin was still there on the surface, but behind my eyes, I was already mapping the hallways of this house like a battlefield.
Min jae would arrive in three hours. He would have Sora on his arm, draped in her “fragile” knit sweater and her practiced shyness. He would expect me to be the gracious host, the woman who values convenience over her own dignity.
I set the perfume bottle down with a soft, deliberate click.
In my first life, I sought love. In this one, I only want control. I will welcome her into this house, but I will do it on my own terms. I will watch her, study her, and let her believe she is winning until the very moment the floor disappears beneath her feet.
I walked to the closet and pulled out a sharp, charcoal toned dress. It was professional, restrained, and cold.
“Welcome home, Min jae,” I whispered to the empty room. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
