Mary opened her eyes, gasping softly. The world was hazy, unfamiliar. Her body felt lighter, younger. She blinked against the soft morning light streaming through a modest window. A woman sat beside her, holding her hand tightly—her eyes swollen from crying. A man stood near the doorway, hope and sorrow clashing in his expression.
"She's awake… Mariana, my baby… thank God," the woman whispered.
Mariana.
The name echoed in Mary's mind. She remembered now—the voice in the afterlife, the choice she made. She'd been given a second chance, a new life, in the body of a girl whose soul had chosen to pass on. In return, Mary—now Mariana—would love and care for the grieving parents as if they were her own. And she would remember everything.
She glanced at the silver chain on her wrist, a faint shimmer glowing under her skin. It wasn't an ordinary mark—it was the sign of the system given to the original Mariana, now hers to carry. The system would awaken later, leading her to fulfill tasks in small, fragmented worlds.
But for now… this world, this life, was what mattered.
She sat up slowly, still adjusting to the unfamiliar body. Her heart, once ripped from her chest, now beat again—strong and quiet. And somewhere far away, George was waking up to another morning without her. The thought stung, but she reminded herself: he was healing, and she would guide him from the shadows.
This time, she would build something stronger—not just for herself, but for George. For the Mariana's parents who had lost a daughter. For the weak, the grieving, the forgotten.
Mary Green was gone.
But Mariana… Mariana was just beginning.