DAY TWO

I was reborn as a woman named Jazzlin Ozza.

When night fell, sleep refused to come. I kept turning in bed, restless. Finally, I gave in and padded across the room to the vanity—something about the mirror had been calling to me since I arrived.

I knew it would come to this. That sooner or later, I’d have to face the new face that came with this second life. I was just…stalling.

My steps felt heavy, uncertain, as I moved closer.

“One… two… three…” I breathed, and looked up.

I wasn’t prepared.

The girl in the mirror was heartbreakingly beautiful. Long lashes framed her dim, thoughtful eyes—deep blue like a midnight sea. Her brows were naturally shaped, not needing a touch of makeup. Her lips were full and shaped like they were drawn with care, her skin light and smooth, and her figure wrapped in a pale satin negligee.

I couldn’t stop staring.

Golden-blonde hair spilled over my shoulders. I touched it, half-expecting the strands to change back to the black I used to know. But it stayed. Everything stayed.

This wasn’t just a dream. I had been given a new life—in a body that felt like art.

Sitting at the vanity, I sighed and pulled open a drawer, looking for a fresh bandage.

Instead, my hand landed on something else—a photo album.

Thin. Light. A few memories, maybe.

Curiosity won. I set it on the vanity and flipped it open. The first photo showed a little girl in a school uniform, her dark hair tied into pigtails, smiling brightly with a lollipop in hand.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me. I knew who she was.

Jazzlin.

Page after page, I saw her grow. A crying Jazzlin in mismatched clothes, a grinning Jazzlin holding a birthday cake, a pouting Jazzlin with her arms crossed.

A smile tugged at my lips. She’d been so full of life.

I reached for the drawer again, needing to see more. Another album caught my eye.

This one was different—full of teenage Jazzlin with her friends, her laughter frozen in time.

One photo stopped me cold.

Jazzlin with her arms looped around a boy’s neck, almost choking him. His beanie hid half his face, but not enough to hide who it was.

Barra.

My breath caught. His expression was half-annoyed, half-resigned—like he was used to her antics.

Was this love?

A knock snapped me out of it.

“Jazzlin? Are you still up?”

I quickly stuffed the albums back into the drawer, heart racing. “Yeah. Come in, Mom.”

She peeked in, then stepped inside. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for a bandage, but I couldn’t find one.” I tried not to sound guilty.

She raised a brow, opened the drawer, and immediately pulled one out. “You mean this one?”

I laughed sheepishly. “Maybe I wasn’t looking that hard.”

“Come here.” She patted the bed beside her.

I sat down, and she gently unwrapped my wrist. The sting of ointment hit, but it was her quiet, trembling voice that hurt more.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she whispered. “When I found you bleeding, I… I thought I lost you.”

My chest tightened. I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have done that. I just— I didn’t think.”

Her hands moved with care as she bandaged me. “You don’t have to carry everything alone, Jazzlin. Talk to me. I’m your mother, and your friend.”

I nodded. “I promise. I’ll try.”

She smiled, her eyes damp. “That’s all I ask. Now, sleep. I’m hosting a dinner for you tomorrow.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really. And don’t stay up too late snooping through your old photos.” She kissed my forehead and turned off the light.

“Night,” I whispered, but she was already gone.

I stared at the ceiling.

For the first time in my life, I felt a mother’s love. I never had that before. But in this strange second chance… I got it.

The door creaked open again.

“Mom?” I called.

A familiar figure leaned on the doorway, smirking. “Ouch. You’re gonna bruise my ego.”

Barra.

I sat up straight. “You again?”

“I’m too young to be mistaken for your mom, Jazz.”

“Debatable,” I muttered.

He laughed. “Can’t sleep.”

I crossed my arms. “So you came to haunt my room?”

“No. I came to ask you to keep me company.”

I blinked. “You want me to—what, talk you to sleep?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

He stepped closer, and I felt my heart lurch. His messy hair and sleepy eyes made him look unfairly good in the moonlight.

“I’m not used to this version of you,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“This version?” His voice was soft now. “You mean the quiet, half-dead one, or the one who stopped hugging me like a koala?”

I laughed despite myself. “You looked like you were dying in that photo.”

“I was,” he said flatly, then sat on my bed. “Come on. Sit.”

“You’re on my bed.”

“You said okay.”

“That was sarcasm!”

He lay down dramatically, patting the space beside him. “I miss my annoying childhood friend. I think she’s hiding behind this beautiful but cranky girl.”

I blushed, flustered. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s confusing.”

He smiled up at me. “Everything about you is confusing lately.”

I turned away. “I’m going back to my own bed.”

“Principessa,” he called as I reached the door.

I froze. “Stop calling me that.”

“You should look up what it means.”

“I will. Tomorrow.”

My feet slipped a bit as I turned, and strong arms caught me. My breath hitched—his hands steady on my waist, his face so close I could feel his breath.

“You should be more careful, principessa,” he murmured.

I pulled away, flustered. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled. “You keep saying that, but you haven’t left yet.”

I swallowed. “My name is Jan—Jazzlin. It’s Jazzlin.”

He didn’t press it. Just smiled, eyes unreadable. “Good night, Jazzlin.”

I closed the door behind me and locked it, heart still thudding. What the hell was that?

I looked at the moonlight spilling through the curtain. My thoughts swirled with faces—Barra, my mom, Haytham.

Haytham.

I turned on the light, walked back to the drawer, and pulled out Jazzlin’s phone. I’d avoided it till now. But I had to know more about her—about me.

I entered the passcode. It worked.

The wallpaper was a cartoon hippo, which was weird. But what shocked me was the date.

I blinked.

I died five years ago. And now I’m alive again—in this body. In this time.

But where is the real Jazzlin?

Did she pass on? Or was she like me, somewhere out there in a different form?

Could I still meet Haytham and Alia? Would they even recognize me?

No. I’m Jazzlin now. Not Janielle anymore.

I set the phone down, crawled back into bed, and pulled the blanket over me.

Whatever this second life was… I had a feeling it wasn’t just a fluke.

There was a reason I was brought back.

And I would find it.

Even if the path ahead wasn’t easy.