I awoke with a startle, my heart pounding in my chest. As my eyes adjusted to the soft, golden light filtering through the curtains, I realized I was in an opulent room filled with luxurious items—plush velvet furniture, rich mahogany woodwork, and delicate crystal chandeliers that glittered in the morning sun. This wasn’t my room. I wasn’t supposed to be here. “This is not my room. I’m supposed to be dead,” I thought, my mind racing with confusion and fear. I vividly remembered the horrifying moment when my stepsister and husband had pushed me off a cliff. The sensation of falling, the wind rushing past me, the sheer terror—it all came flooding back. So how had I survived, and more importantly, how had I ended up in this place? My legs trembled as I swung them over the side of the bed and stood up. Each step towards the door felt like a monumental effort, my body weak and unsteady. As I moved, I caught sight of myself in a large, ornate mirror. “This isn’t me,” I whispered, star
I looked up at the woman and asked, "Who is my husband?" She seemed taken aback by my question, her expression flickering with a mixture of surprise and caution. "Your husband... you don't remember him?" I shook my head slowly, feeling a knot form in my stomach. "No, I don't. Please, can you tell me who he is?" The woman glanced at Tommy, who was still clinging to me, his tears starting to subside. "Your husband is Mr. Richard Walker," she said quietly. "He's been away on a business trip for the past few weeks. He's expected back tomorrow." Richard Walker. The name sounded unfamiliar, like a distant echo that I couldn't quite place. I looked down at Tommy, who was now looking up at me with curiosity and a hint of fear. "Tommy, do you like your dad?" I asked gently. Tommy nodded hesitantly. "He's nice to me. He buys me toys and takes me to the park." I forced a smile, trying to reconcile this information with the blank slate of my memory. "That's good," I said, though I couldn't s
After Richard had left, I sat down, my mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The silence of the room felt deafening, amplifying the turmoil within me. Why would a woman harbor so much hatred for her husband I thought about my own past life, how I had always longed for the attention and affection of my husband, Anthony. The memories flooded back, bittersweet and poignant. Anthony and I had married under circumstances that were far from ideal. Our union was arranged by our families, and while I had hoped for love to blossom, it had never quite happened. I was not from a wealthy family, but I was left with a substantial inheritance. My husband had married me with the intention of gaining control of this inheritance. This bitter truth had come to light before the horrifying incident when my stepsister and Anthony had pushed me off the cliff. My life had been marked by struggle and rejection. I had always carried a scar on my face, a disfigurement that had marred my sel
As I stood by the study door waiting for an answer, the silence stretched on, making the seconds feel like hours. When no response came, I cautiously entered the room. There, I saw Richard engrossed in writing in a journal. Taking a deep breath, I called his name softly. He continued to ignore me; his focus unwavering. Gathering courage, I moved closer and gently touched his shoulder. Startled, he turned around quickly, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation when he saw it was me. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly. "Did we not agree to stay out of each other's way?" I stammered, trying to find my words. "I just came to tell you that I cooked. Do you want some?" Richard's eyes filled with contempt as he looked at me. He turned back to his journal without a word. After a moment, he glanced back up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You cooked? You? Even if I believed anything you said, the idea that you cooked is laughable. You're just a cheating liar. His
I looked down at my son's disappointed face, my heart ached. His excitement to go out had turned sour after the nanny said my husband had prohibited me from going out. Wanting so eagerly to lift his spirits, I turned to the nanny. "Could you please call my husband? I need to speak with him," I asked, hoping to reason with him and make him understand that I was not like before. The nanny looked at me, slightly hesitant but finally nodded. "Okay, Ma'am." She retrieved the phone and dialed the number that connected directly to Richard's secretary. After a few rings, a voice that dripped with arrogance answered, "Who is this?" The nanny replied, "This is Mr. Richard's wife. She would like to have a word with him." There was a brief pause at the other end of the phone before the secretary's voice returned, colder than before. "He's busy" she said with that, she hung up. I felt so helpless and frustrated because in my former body I was not restricted from moving around since my h
Though I had been awake for a while, but I immediately closed my eyes tight and pretended to be sleeping as soon as I felt Richard coming awake. He sat up and stared down at me for a few moments, then gently removed his hand from under my head. I kept my breathing even, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he moved to the bathroom. The water ran for a short while, and soon he returned with a wet cloth. He carefully removed the old one from my stomach and replaced it with the fresh, cool towel. His touch was unexpectedly tender, and I fought to keep my eyes closed, savoring this rare moment of affection. After tending to me, Richard quietly left the room. I waited, making sure he was gone, before daring to open my eyes. A smile crept across my face. It had been so long since I had felt such care and attention from anyone, let alone a man. The memory of his gentle touch filled me with tingling butterflies in my belly. Trying to seat up on the bead, when I heard a sof
I woke up early, the first rays of dawn barely touching the horizon, to prepare breakfast since I was not able to sleep. I busied myself in the kitchen, and by the time the rest of the house began to stir, breakfast was ready. I had prepared a simple yet hearty meal of apple pie and some pancakes for Tommy. As I was setting the table, I heard footsteps descending the stairs. Looking up, I saw Richard and Tommy coming down together. My heart beat very fast in my chest, like I was running a race. I stared at Richard’s face, and I felt my legs tremble. He was so cute, even with the way his hair was tousled, he still looked good. I guess I was staring for too long. When Richard looked towards me and caught me looking, I quickly averted my gaze as my cheeks burned in embarrassment. At that moment, if there was another word for embarrassment, that was what I was feeling. I felt as if the ground should open up and swallow me whole. My cheeks burned with shame and turned crimson
"What?" I exclaimed, unable to hide my shock. My son's eyes welled up with tears as he looked at me with an expectant gaze. "Yes, Mom, I’ve seen other parents doing it. I want you and Dad to kiss so I know you're not fighting." I was taken aback, standing there in stunned silence How could I explain to him the complexity of the situation? I had never even kissed my own husband from my past life, except on the day we wed, which was just a light kiss that barely touched my lips. And now, I was supposed to ask Richard to kiss me just because our son requested it. Just yesterday, I had caught Richard in an incredibly embarrassing situation, a memory that still made my cheeks flush with humiliation. But I wanted to make my son happy, and looking at his expectant face, I didn’t want to disappoint him. So, I made a big decision at that moment. I held Tommy's hand, and together we left the kitchen and went upstairs to Richard's room. Nervously, I knocked on the door. "Who is