The first thing Elara noticed was the silence.
It wasn't the peaceful kind of silence, the kind that settles in the air when the world is at rest. No, this was the kind of silence that presses in on your chest, suffocates your lungs, and makes every breath feel too loud. She felt as though she were drowning in it.
She opened her eyes, slowly, the world around her spinning. The dim light filtering through the curtains felt wrong, too bright yet too soft. The bed beneath her was too familiar, the worn sheets, the cracked wooden headboard, the faint scent of herbs—her mother's herbs, always simmering on the stove. The room was exactly as she remembered it. Too much so.
Her heart stuttered.
*No...*
She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't supposed to be her reality. Her last memory had been the cold steel of a blade, the painful betrayal of her stepmother and stepsister, the final, agonizing realization that her father, the man she had given up everything for, had never truly cared. She had died—her body broken, her heart shattered—and now, she was back. Alive. In the same apartment she had left behind so carelessly.
Elara sat up, her head spinning as the rush of memories hit her like a tidal wave. Her father's cold words. The hollow promises of a life filled with wealth, status, and luxury. The lies. The manipulation. The blood. Her blood. Her death.
But then there had been *the other world*. A place where she had learned, grown, and become someone new. In that world, she had gained knowledge, power. She had learned to manipulate code and systems, to bend data to her will. She had learned how to create perfumes that could alter emotions, erase memories, manipulate reality itself. She had become someone who could not only survive but thrive in any environment.
But now… she was back. Back in this life. The life she had abandoned.
A wave of nausea washed over her. She pushed herself to her feet, her body still shaky from the shock. Her reflection in the cracked mirror showed a version of herself she almost didn't recognize—pale skin, dark eyes that had once been filled with hope but now were cold and calculating, a mind sharpened by the harsh lessons of her second life.
But underneath the hard surface, there was something else. Something raw.
Her mother's voice broke through her thoughts, soft and distant.
"Elara?"
The sound of her name sent a shock through her chest. She had only heard it spoken in that soft, tender way in the world she had left behind, when she had still been that foolish, selfish girl. She froze. A lump rose in her throat, thick and painful.
*No, not now.*
She had been given a second chance, a second life—*a chance to fix everything*. She couldn't afford to let emotion get in the way. Not when she had a plan, not when she had the power to change things. She couldn't let herself fall back into the trap of sentimentality.
And yet…
*She couldn't stop herself.*
Slowly, her feet carried her to the door. She felt numb, but beneath that numbness, a sharp ache pulsed, raw and unrelenting. She reached for the doorknob and hesitated. Her heart thundered in her chest, and for the first time since her return, she felt the weight of what she had lost. The years. The mistakes. The love she had thrown away for a dream that had turned to ash.
With a deep, shuddering breath, she opened the door.
Her mother stood there, the same woman Elara had abandoned—worn but still beautiful, fragile but strong in her own quiet way. Her mother's eyes were wide with concern, her hands clasped around a steaming mug of tea. She looked so... *alive*. So real.
The sight of her almost broke Elara in half.
"Elara?" Her mother's voice trembled, and Elara saw her step back, as though unsure of what she might see in her daughter's face. There was so much hope in her gaze, so much love, and Elara could feel it, heavy and suffocating, pressing against the walls she had built around herself.
But this time, the walls didn't hold.
Her breath caught in her throat, and before she could stop herself, the words came out—tangled, raw, and impossible to swallow.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I was so stupid. I left you. I thought... I thought I could have something better. I thought he'd give me a life worth living, and I left you. I left you behind."
Her mother's face softened, the concern in her eyes turning into something more—something that Elara couldn't quite bear to look at. Her mother's lips trembled as she stepped closer, the cup of tea now forgotten in her hands.
"Elara," her mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I never blamed you for wanting a better life. I never blamed you for the choices you made. You were just a girl. A girl who wanted more, who wanted a future. I never hated you for that."
Elara felt something inside her crack.
She had always known her mother loved her, but hearing those words—words she didn't deserve—brought the weight of everything crashing down on her all at once. The years of regret, the guilt, the pain of knowing she had chosen a dream over her own flesh and blood.
She had been so *stupid*. So blind.
"I'm sorry," she said again, the words barely more than a whisper. "I should have never left you. You were the only one who ever truly cared. And I... I abandoned you for nothing."
Her mother stepped forward, reaching out to her, her trembling hand brushing Elara's cheek. It felt like a lifeline. Elara closed her eyes, unable to hold back the tears any longer.
"I was wrong," she choked out. "I was wrong to leave. I see that now. I see everything now."
Her mother's hand cupped her face, gently wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. "You were young, Elara. You didn't know what you were doing. But you're here now. That's all that matters."
The tenderness in her mother's touch was more than Elara could bear. She had never wanted to hurt her mother. She had just been too blinded by her own ambitions, too desperate for a life that wasn't hers.
But now… she was here. Alive. And for the first time since she had been reborn, Elara allowed herself to feel something. Something that had long been buried beneath layers of cold calculation and self-preservation.
Her mother's hands were warm, grounding, as they held her face, and for a moment, Elara allowed herself to lean into the comfort of them. The love. The forgiveness.
She wasn't the same person anymore. She wasn't that foolish, naive girl who had walked out of this apartment years ago. She had learned. She had changed. But in this moment, she was just a daughter, standing before her mother, finally realizing what she had lost—and what she could still save.
"I won't make the same mistake again," Elara said, her voice steadier now, harder, as she pulled back. She wiped her eyes quickly, ashamed of the weakness she had shown, but she refused to let it consume her. She couldn't afford to stay weak. Not now. Not with what was at stake.
Her mother smiled, though there was still a hint of concern in her eyes. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Elara. I'm just glad you're here."
Elara nodded, her expression hardening. "I'm not here just for you," she said, her voice suddenly cold, detached. "I'm here to make things right. And I won't stop until I do."
Her mother blinked, clearly taken aback by the change in her tone, but she didn't question it. She simply nodded, as though she understood that this was who her daughter had become. The girl who had once been filled with dreams and love was gone, replaced by someone much more dangerous—someone who knew the value of power and control.
And Elara wasn't going to waste her second chance.