Chapter 3

• ZETIAN’S POV
• The first thing I saw was the mirror.
• And the girl staring back at me… was me — but not the me I remembered.
• Her skin was flawless. Her eyes bright, unscarred by betrayal. Her hair still held that youthful shimmer I hadn’t seen in years. There were no burns, no scars, no ghosts in her gaze. Just innocence — pure, untouched, alive.
• I was in my younger version, when I was to turn 19.
• My fingers trembled as I touched my face. My reflection did the same.
• “I… came back to life?” I whispered, voice shaky, foreign.
• The phone beside the mirror blinked with a notification.
• Tuesday, July 7, 2020.
• Cindy’s birthday.
• My heart stopped.
• I was back in time.
• Back before the acid.
• Before the betrayal.
• Before the wedding.
• For a moment, I just stood there — still, numb — as the realization sank in. Then, slowly, a bitter laugh slipped through my lips.
• “So this is the Moon Goddess’ sense of humor,” I muttered, half-laughing, half-crying. “She sends me back… to the very beginning to ridicule me of how stupid I had been.”
• But if this was truly a second chance, I wasn’t going to waste it.
• Not for the Andersons.
• Not for Cindy.
• Not for Frank .
• This time, I would live for me.
• And just when I thought I could adapt—start fresh, rebuild something real—I made the worst mistake of my second chance of life.
• All it took was one night. One drink. One party. One blurred line.
• And now I was carrying a child whose father I couldn’t even remember clearly.
• The night it all happened was the same night of Cindy’s 19th birthday party—a grand celebration planned to perfection, hosted in an elite rooftop lounge that overlooked the city skyline.
• I didn’t want to go. Goddess knows I didn’t.
• “I have a migraine,” I told Cindy, clutching my temples.
• She rolled her eyes. “You always have a migraine when it’s not about you.”
• “I’ve got work tomorrow.”
• She laughed. “Work? You mean those charity meetings? Oh please, Zetian, live a little.”
• When that didn’t work, I tried honesty. “I just don’t fit in with your crowd.”
• But Cindy wouldn’t take no for an answer. She twirled around in her silver gown, hair cascading like a goddess in moonlight.
• “Come on, sis,” she sang. “You’re part of the family now. Stop hiding in the shadows.”
• And then Frank appeared. Dressed sharply in black, smelling of cedar and arrogance. His eyes flicked over me with that familiar blend of disdain and pity.
• “Don’t make this difficult, Zetian,” he said under his breath. “It’s just one night.”
• Just one night.
• I wish I had listened to my instincts.
• I wish I’d never stepped into that limousine.
• But then, I thought it was all going to happen the way it had happened in my previous life, but no it took an entirely different turn on me. Even when I thought I would be conscious of their attack, I still fell a victim.
• The party was everything I hated. Loud music. Flashing lights. The smell of expensive liquor mixed with perfume that clung to your throat. Everyone looked polished, plastic, perfect. Laughter echoed like knives in crystal halls.
• I stayed in a corner, clutching a glass of sparkling wine I had no intention of finishing. Cindy was in her element — her laughter slicing through the crowd as she danced and twirled under a chandelier that sparkled like diamonds.
• Frank was nowhere in sight. Not that I wanted him near me.
• I was already counting down the minutes until I could leave when a waiter appeared with a tray of drinks. The glasses glowed faintly blue beneath the lights.
• “Special mix for the Anderson sisters,” he said, winking.
• I frowned. “Anderson sisters?”
• Before I could question him further, Cindy was suddenly beside me, all glitter and fake warmth.
• “Don’t be boring, Eve,” she cooed, handing me a glass. “Just one sip. You’re ruining the vibe.”
• “I really shouldn’t—”
• “Oh, come on! It’s my birthday. Don’t make me beg.”
• Her tone was playful, but her eyes — sharp, unyielding. I didn’t want to cause a scene as all eyes shifted to me, so I gave in.
• One sip.
• Then another.
• And another.
• The taste was sweet at first — fruity, pleasant — but then the room started to spin. The lights blurred, voices warped, laughter stretched into strange echoes. My vision swayed as I tried to steady myself against a wall.
• “Cindy… what was in that drink?” I slurred.
• She smiled. Too calmly.
• “Relax, sis. It’s just a little something to help you loosen up.”
• The floor tilted beneath me. My legs went numb. The music grew distant.
• The next thing I remembered clearly was stumbling through a hotel corridor.. Barefoot. My clutch gone. My head pounding like a drum.
• The air smelled of cologne and hotel polish. I didn’t know how I got there. My vision was foggy, my mind scattered.
• Then — a door opened.
• A shadow stepped out. Tall. Broad shoulders. The faint glint of beautiful pair of eyes.
• Strong hands caught me as I stumbled. My heart jumped.
• “Mate!”
• Gemini — my wolf — roared inside me.
• But my head was spinning too much to understand anything.
• I wanted to speak. To ask who he was. But the words tangled in my throat.
• He led me inside. My surroundings blurred into darkness.
• And then — nothing.
• When I woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the blinds, slicing across a room I didn’t recognize. My head throbbed. My body ached. My skin felt foreign, touched, claimed.
• I looked beside me.
• Empty sheets.
• No one there.
• Just the lingering scent of a man I didn’t know — earthy, sharp, intoxicating.
• Panic shot through me. I scrambled to gather my clothes, my purse, my phone. My hands were trembling as I stepped out of the hotel room, praying no one would see me.
• Back home, I stood under the shower for an hour, scrubbing my skin raw. I told myself it had to be Frank . It had to be him.
• Gemini stirred inside me again, voice fierce.
• “Mate!”
• Yes. It was Frank . Who else could it be? I only had one mate.
• He’d seen me at the party. Maybe we slipped away together. Maybe the alcohol had blurred the lines, but he had taken responsibility.
• The Moon Goddess didn’t make mistakes.
• Or so I thought.
• Days passed. I avoided Frank . Avoided Cindy. Avoided everyone even mirrors. But something felt different. My body, my mood — off balance.
• Then my period never came.
• Once.
• Twice.
• By the third week, I bought a test, praying I was wrong.
• The result appeared in seconds.
• Positive.
• Pregnant.
• My knees gave out. The test slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I sat there, on the cold marble tiles of the Andersons estate’s bathroom, shaking as tears spilled down my cheeks.
• “Why?” I whispered to no one. “Why again?”
• Pregnant.
• Seven weeks.
• Due in early spring.
• That night, I called Frank .
• He picked up on the second ring, his tone clipped, impatient.
• “What is it?”
• “I need to talk to you,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s important.”
• Silence.
• Then I told him.
• He didn’t say anything for a long time. I thought maybe he’d hung up. And then—
• “Are you sure it’s mine?” His voice was flat. No excitement. No comfort.
• Five words.
• Five words that cut deeper than any acid ever could.
• I couldn’t even breathe.
• He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t offer to come over. All he said was that.
• I hung up.
• For days, I stayed locked in my room. The curtains drawn. The world shut out. I cried until my throat was raw, until my reflection in the mirror looked hollow again — a ghost in a body that didn’t feel like mine.
• I had been given a second life.
• And somehow, I’d already ruined it.
• My family’s reaction was predictable. Shock. Disgust. Calculation. The Andersons name could not afford scandal.
• “Marriage,” Father had said sharply. “Before anyone finds out. Quiet. Quick. Clean.”
• But Frank never proposed.
• He never visited.
• Never looked at me again.
• He simply nodded when the arrangements were made — as if marrying me was a chore he couldn’t avoid.
• Though I wanted nothing to do with him in this life, I had no choice.
• For the sake of the innocent life growing inside me, I convinced myself I could survive the lie one more time.