The cold. That was the first thing Selene felt.

Not the soft chill of morning air, but a biting cold that wrapped around her skin like a warning. Her body ached, her limbs stiff, and a dull pounding echoed in her skull. She felt like she’d been ripped out of something... final.

Her eyes flew open.

Ceiling. Pink. Familiar.

The soft hum of the ceiling fan. The pale pink curtains fluttering against the window. The framed photo of her high school graduation, still tilted slightly to the left. Her room.

But this wasn’t right.

Selene sat up slowly, every muscle screaming in confusion. Her heart pounded as she turned to look at the alarm clock.

March 18. 7:03 AM.

"No..." she whispered. Her voice trembled. "That's not possible."

She remembered this day. It wasn’t just familiar — it was etched into her bones. A week before her twenty-third birthday. A week before the accident that took her life. Her death had been quiet, almost peaceful. Bright headlights. Screeching tires. The sound of her own heart giving up.

Yet here she was.

Alive.

Selene stumbled to the mirror, gripping the edge of her dresser like it might anchor her. Her reflection stared back — same long, wavy brown hair, same tired violet eyes. Same person.

But inside, everything had changed.

“I’m back,” she said, barely louder than a breath. “I’ve come back.”

She didn’t know how, or why, but the universe — or fate, or something greater — had given her a second chance. And not just to live, but to rewrite everything.

To undo every moment she let her mother make decisions for her.

To stop pretending she loved Elijah, the man she’d agreed to marry to keep peace in the family.

To start over. For real.

Selene's tears began to fall, but they weren’t from fear. They were from knowing she still had time.

Seven days.

She inhaled sharply and moved across the room with purpose, yanking open her closet. This time, she wouldn’t wear the dresses Elijah liked or the soft pastel sweaters her mother chose for her.

She pulled on her favorite jeans, the ones with a small rip at the knee. A plain white tank top. And her leather jacket — worn, but still hers.

As she ran her fingers through her hair and twisted it into a messy bun, her phone buzzed. A message from Elijah.

“Morning, love. I’ll pick you up after school. Don’t forget about dinner with my parents tonight.”

Tonight.

The night everything started to crumble.

Selene stared at the message, the familiar dread creeping into her stomach. This was the dinner where Elijah's parents would begin discussing wedding plans. Where her voice would disappear beneath a polite smile.

Not this time.

She deleted the message. Then, with a calm resolve, typed:

“Don’t come. We need to talk.”

And hit send.

She didn’t care how he’d react.

This time, she wouldn't be controlled. She wouldn't live out a future designed by others. She would fight — for her dreams, her freedom, her happiness.

Selene Vargas had died once. That version of her — silent, obedient, and broken — was gone.

This time, she'd rise.

This time, she'd change her destiny.

The school gates loomed ahead, just as they always had — wide, gray, and slightly rusted at the corners. Students bustled past Selene, laughing, texting, rushing to beat the bell. But to her, the scene felt surreal, like walking through an old photo brought to life.

She had been here before, but this time, she saw it differently.

Selene adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. No pastel dress, no carefully curled hair. Just jeans, boots, and her jacket. Her armor. Some students glanced her way, surprised. She ignored them.

“Selene?”

A familiar voice made her stop. Mia.

Her best friend.

In her past life, Selene had pulled away from Mia — unintentionally at first, then by force. Elijah didn’t like her. Said Mia was “too loud,” “too rebellious.” Eventually, Selene had let her go. One of her greatest regrets.

“Mia,” she said, a breath catching in her throat. “You’re here.”

“Uh... yeah? Did you hit your head or something?” Mia tilted her head, squinting. “Wait. Your outfit. Your hair. What happened to Miss Always-Put-Together?”

Selene laughed softly. “She’s gone. I missed you.”

Mia blinked. “Okay, now I know something’s up. Are you okay?”

Selene stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “Better than okay.”

They walked to class together, and for the first time in a long while, Selene felt free. She asked Mia about everything — things she already knew, but just hearing them made her smile. Every small moment felt like gold.

But as the final bell rang and lunch approached, Selene’s phone buzzed again.

Mom: I scheduled your wedding dress fitting for Saturday. Be on time.

Selene stared at the message. Her stomach twisted.

In the past, she would’ve said yes. She would’ve shown up, stood in silence while others measured her for a dress she didn’t even choose. But not this time.

She took a deep breath and typed a reply.

Selene: I’m not going. I’ll talk to you tonight.

Then she turned her phone off and tucked it away.

She wasn’t ready for a fight — not yet — but she was ready to be honest.

After school, Mia offered to walk with her to the café near the plaza. Selene hesitated, then nodded. She remembered this place. She used to love it. A cozy corner café with mismatched chairs and the smell of cinnamon and coffee.

They sat by the window. Selene stared out, the soft chime of a bell ringing each time a customer came in.

“I need to ask you something,” she said, her voice quiet. “If you had one week to change your life... would you?”

Mia raised an eyebrow. “One week?”

“Yeah. Just seven days to undo all the choices that hurt you. The ones people made for you.”

Mia leaned back, thoughtful. “Depends. Do I get to be brave this time?”

Selene smiled. “That’s the only way it works.”

Mia grinned. “Then yeah. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Selene looked out at the fading sunlight. Day one was almost over. Six more remained.

And tomorrow, she’d take the next step.

She’d visit her father’s grave — something she hadn’t done since the funeral.

She’d face the truth she’d buried with him.

Because changing your destiny wasn’t just about saying no to others — it was about finally saying yes to yourself.

Selene stood in front of the old flower shop, her hands shaking slightly as she reached for the door handle. The little bell above the door rang as she stepped inside, releasing the soft scent of roses and jasmine. The place hadn’t changed. Wooden shelves still lined the walls, filled with colorful flowers in glass vases.

A kind-looking woman behind the counter smiled. “Can I help you, dear?”

Selene nodded. “I’d like to buy some lilies. White ones, please.”

“Of course,” the woman said, walking to the fridge. “A special occasion?”

Selene looked down at her hands. “Something like that.”

As the woman wrapped the flowers, Selene’s mind drifted back to the day of her father’s funeral. She had been dressed in black, standing beside her mother and aunt, completely silent. She hadn’t cried. She couldn’t. Elijah had stood behind her, whispering that strong women didn’t cry. And she believed him.

Now, she knew better.

She took the bouquet and thanked the woman before heading to the cemetery.

The walk was quiet, only the sound of birds and her own footsteps. The wind brushed her cheeks as if the world was gently reminding her she was still alive.

When she reached the grave, her heart began to ache.

There it was.

Marcus Vargas

Beloved father, kind soul. 1969–2023.

She knelt slowly, placing the lilies at the foot of the stone. Her fingers traced the engraved letters. The cool stone felt like ice against her skin.

“Hi, Dad,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

A tear fell onto the ground. She didn’t wipe it away.

“I should have come sooner. I should have said goodbye properly. But I didn’t know how.”

Her voice cracked.

“They told me to move on. They said I had to be strong. That crying was weakness. But... you never believed that, did you?”

She remembered his warm smile, the way he’d ruffle her hair, call her his “little fire.” He always told her that feeling things deeply was a strength, not a weakness.

“I miss you. I miss who I was when you were still here.”

She sat beside the grave, hugging her knees.

“Elijah proposed the day after your funeral,” she said softly. “Mom said it was what you would’ve wanted. But you wouldn’t have agreed to this. You would’ve told me to follow my heart. To run if something didn’t feel right.”

Selene let herself cry — really cry — for the first time in a long while. And it felt like pieces of her broken heart were finally being seen.

“I’m changing things now,” she said. “I’m not marrying Elijah. I’m not pretending anymore. I’m starting over.”

A breeze swept past, warm and soft, like a gentle hug. She smiled through her tears.

“I hope that wherever you are, you’re proud of me.”

She sat there for a long time, watching the clouds move slowly across the sky.

When she finally stood to leave, the world felt lighter. She felt lighter.

She wasn’t done yet. There were still people she needed to face. Still choices to make. But now, she had a little more strength.

Because she had said goodbye.

And she was finally ready to begin again.