3. Going back in time?

The glass slips from my hand, crashing loudly on the floor, startling me. My eyes widen, pupils dilating as a sharp, painful ringing fills my ears. I groan and instinctively try to cover them, waiting for the dizziness to pass and my vision to clear, but it’s so loud!

Eventually, the pain fades, and my eyes begin to focus again, drifting down to my feet and the water flowing beneath my white high heels...

“What the...”

The words disappear from my mouth when I finally lift my eyes and see the mirror in front of me. A shocked cry escapes my lips, and I stumble backward, slipping on the wet floor.

My head falls back along with the rest of my body, catching a glimpse of the ceiling before I hit the ground.

The sharp pain takes my breath away, and my vision blurs again.

“Ugh....”

I rub the back of my head, trying to ease the pain, my movements so smooth and instinctive that it takes me a few seconds to realize I’m actually touching my head.

My hand is moving effortlessly, without getting tired.

I turn my head to the side again, surprised that my body is obeying me, but that pleasant surprise quickly turns into shock.

It’s truly a mirror.

God, it’s been ages since I’ve looked at myself in one, but I’m pretty sure that’s not possible.

Because what I see now is my younger face... my honey-colored eyes sparkling, long eyelashes, soft, hydrated lips... not the pale skin and dry lips.

My long, brown waves are shining and silky like they used to be, styled with the veil just as I did on that hellish day.

“I can’t believe it...”

Wait…

I touch my throat.

My voice didn’t falter, and it didn’t sound husky or raspy. It’s smooth and velvety, just like it used to be before the illness.

I slowly touch my face, feeling the texture of soft, youthful skin under my fingertips, and take a deep breath, closing my eyes once more before opening them to make sure I’m not losing my mind... that I’m really seeing the same wedding dress I wore on my wedding day ten years ago.

“Is this real?”

No, it can’t be.

The last thing I remember was dragging myself to the balcony and jumping off.

Am I truly facing divine punishment for ending my life?

Will I be condemned to relive that cursed day forever?

Oh, I see.

So this is hell.

I died and went to hell.

I know I wasn’t exactly an easy person, and more often than not, I wasn’t kind either. I know I was petty, stupid, stubborn, and… did I say petty?

And yes, I did try to give Christopher the worst of me, but I didn’t think I was bad enough to earn myself an eternity down there, waiting for my dear husband to join me, too—

Suddenly, the door opening interrupts my thoughts. An old and yet surprisingly youthful familiar face twists with concern — one I haven’t seen in a long time.

“This is really a sick joke—”

“Lotte!” She rushes toward me and crouches down, touching my shoulders. “What happened? Did you fall? Are you okay?”

“Elodie?” The name that hasn’t escaped my lips in years slips out in a sigh. “Ok, this is very real...”

“What are you talking about? Did you hit your head?”

I did, but...

She’s touching me... actually touching me. Her warm hands are gently checking my face, searching for bruises, injuries, and...

“This is real?” I murmur, and then... a choked sob escapes without me noticing. “I’m… I’m so sorry!”

Elodie… my cousin and true friend, whom I pushed away because my obsession with Christopher blinded me, and who, despite my stubbornness, always offered me her shoulder to cry on when things went wrong.

But I didn’t want to see, didn’t want to accept, so I pushed away everyone who tried to open my eyes, even if they only wanted what was best for me.

“Lotte...” Elodie hugs me back, hesitant and confused, stroking my back. “You’re making me worried...”

“I’m sorry...” I repeat, again and again, as sobs escape between my sincere apologies.

I don’t know if this is hell or not, but if I get the chance to apologize to the person who cares about my well-being the most, I’ll take it.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you...” I say between sobs, squeezing her body even tighter. “I should have listened to you...”

“Why are you saying this now?” Elodie gives me one last gentle stroke before pulling back slightly to look directly into my eyes. She touches my face with both hands, softly drying my wet cheeks. “You finally got what you wanted, so why are you crying?”

“Because this feels like a nightmare. It’s the end of my life, and I built it for myself.”

Elodie frowns; it’s obvious that my trembling words don't make any sense to her.

“What are you talking about? That’s the beginning of your life, Lotte... you’re marrying the man you love...”

“The man I love?” My mouth goes dry, and once again, I feel my chest empty. There’s no sign of those cursed butterflies anymore.

My appearance may seem like that of innocent Charlotte, but that's only on the surface.

“...The same man who’s the cause of my misery.”

“I don’t understand...” Elodie shakes her head, frowning. “Is this because of Christopher’s girlfriend, Evelyn?”

Evelyn. That name makes me want to throw up.

“Didn’t the Earl say everything’s fine, that they’re going to break up? What changed?” Elodie’s voice trails off, and she looks away, swallowing hard.

I know she’s reconsidering her words, and now that I think about it, she probably disapproved of this relationship from the beginning, but she knew I wouldn’t listen. I never did.

“Am I really condemned to relive that miserable life?” I ask myself, with true, real despair, looking into the mirror at my exact appearance from my twenty-two years. “I ended my life, and yet, I couldn’t escape...”

Elodie strikes my face with both hands at once, causing my eyes to widen and a brief pain to shoot through me.

“Ending your life, are you out of your mind?” she snaps sharply, her voice trembling slightly. “Why would you end your precious life?”

Precious?

“Lotte, if you don’t want this life... make the life you desire!” Elodie’s words remind me of all the dreams I had before leaving this room and heading to that altar... “You don’t have to live the way others want.”

Elodie... your advice is always spot on, isn’t it?

Oh, I really missed you...

“Do you want to run away? I’ll help you!” she stands up determinedly, offering me her hand. “We can do this!”

I take my cousin’s hand and force my legs up, which easily bear the weight of my body. But the overwhelming feeling of being unable to walk alone, of having my body stolen by illness and my freedom taken by my own obsession, is still here, like a lurking shadow.

However, this time, I can get back on my feet.

“They’ll come looking for you soon, so... If you want to escape, now’s the time,” Elodie said, looking into my eyes and squeezing my hand reassuringly.

I feel a flicker of hope, but it’s quickly tamed.

After all, can I really escape?

Can I truly change things?

I sought freedom through death, and somehow, I find myself back at the moment I lost it.

Once, I said that if I were given a new chance, I would let Christopher go... I would pursue only my happiness and follow my heart’s desire because I genuinely want to be happy.

Honestly, I don’t know what this is — whether it’s life after death, time travel, divine punishment, or a gift that rewards such a miserable existence as mine, but I’m tired of being in the dark.

I’m tired of suffering, of feeling pain, of confining myself within luxurious walls.

So, I part my lips to answer, ready to plead for her to take me away... put me in a car and drive far, far away from that altar where I once said yes.

Please, take me away from the church bells.

Take me far away from Christopher.

“Elodie, please, take me out...”

I take a step towards her, but suddenly, I feel dizzy.

My heart beats faster, pounding fiercely in my chest... and just like that, I remember.

I prayed to God for a chance to meet my unborn child, and I find myself back at the moment when I sealed my fate with its father.

My eyes sting as I slowly and subtly lower my hand, brushing my fingers over the delicate lace of the corset until, finally, my palm touches my belly. And I feel breathless.

Henry, my son...

My baby...

Can I bring him to this world now?

Can I hold him, see his little face, smell him, feel his warmth?

Will I be able to protect my child this time?

I slowly let go of Elodie’s hand, meeting her confused look, and forced a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ignore your advice one last time… I can’t run away.” I lower my eyes, looking at my belly. “I can’t run right now.”

Elodie’s face softens with understanding as she gently squeezes my hand.

“I understand... I’ll stay by your side, no matter what you decide.”

So, without saying any more, she kisses my forehead and leaves the room.

I take a deep breath, gather the courage I need, and after a moment of stillness, I decide it’s time.

As I walk down the long stone corridor toward the church, I look up at the tall towers piercing the blue sky. The sun is setting, painting the sky orange and purple, and its golden rays filter through the stained-glass windows.

Each step closer to the wooden gates confirms the reality of the moment and convinces me this is not a dream or illusion.

Did I really go back in time?

How is that possible?

I’m not entirely sure, but everything feels just like I remember. Too detailed, too real.

I touch my belly, gently stroking it, overwhelmed with emotion.

The varnished and polished pews sparkle under the gentle candlelight. White flowers, from lilies to roses, adorn each pew, and their sweet scent fills the air.

The music from the organ swells, dramatic and touching, blending with the guests’ murmurs and the sound of my footsteps on the marble floor as I walk down the central aisle, capturing everyone’s attention.

I observe the faces of the guests as I walk by... some show genuine smiles, but most seem more like a formality. Their forced expressions reveal more about what they expect from this marriage than any conversation we’ve ever had in this life or the previous one.

If I were smarter, I would have noticed this sooner.

At the back, in the altar decorated with more white flowers and green vines, the space next to the priest reserved for the groom is empty — a detail that, somehow, doesn’t surprise me, but once hurt me deeply.

When I finally reach the altar, I stop and stand silently, gazing at the large image of Jesus Christ with open arms. Now, I feel bitter and filled with regret for blaming Him for my own mistakes, losing faith not only in God but also in myself.

I lower my gaze, staring at my empty hands.

I should have been holding a bouquet, but I still remember my hands bleeding from the thorns the last time I held a flower, at Grandpa’s funeral...

Grandpa.

My eyes flick to the side, searching for the familiar face I missed so much…

And just as I hoped, there he is... Marshall.

Alive, smiling with pride and joy, tears in his eyes when meeting mine. The same man whose grave I touched with my bare hands. Seeing him there brings a teary smile to my face, and even if I try to put what I’m feeling into words right now, I’d probably fail.

I had almost forgotten his face, but seeing him again brings back all those warm memories blooming in my chest.

Now, everything I've been through feels like a distant nightmare.

Next to my cousin Elodie, who gives me a still worried look, I also see my uncle, who was briefly my adoptive father before the Houghton family took me in.

His expression is composed, but his eyes reveal a silent sorrow for the absence of my Aunt Amelia, who passed away too soon. He tries to smile at me, one that carries as much love as melancholy for the life we could have shared if she were still with us.

Then, I let my gaze drift to the groom’s side, causing my stomach to tighten.

Sebastian, Christopher’s younger brother, seems especially down today. His melancholic demeanor contrasts with the occasion, but a closer look reveals something deeper than mere sadness. It’s hard to see the mask of resignation he wears, knowing that his heart holds feelings he shouldn’t.

I feel a knot in my throat, but I push these thoughts aside as the doors open again, revealing Christopher and his expression, which could show anything… except happiness.