Three

ZETIAN’S POV

The first thing I saw was the mirror.

And the girl staring back at me… was me — but not the me I remembered.

Her skin was flawless. Her eyes bright, unscarred by betrayal. Her hair still held that youthful shimmer I hadn’t seen in years. There were no burns, no scars, no ghosts in her gaze. Just innocence — pure, untouched, alive.

I was in my younger version, when I was to turn 19.

My fingers trembled as I touched my face. My reflection did the same.

“I… came back to life?” I whispered, voice shaky, foreign.

The phone beside the mirror blinked with a notification.

Tuesday, July 7, 2020.

Cindy’s birthday.

My heart stopped.

I was back in time.

Back before the acid.

Before the betrayal.

Before the wedding.

For a moment, I just stood there — still, numb — as the realization sank in. Then, slowly, a bitter laugh slipped through my lips.

“So this is the Moon Goddess’ sense of humor,” I muttered, half-laughing, half-crying. “She sends me back… to the very beginning to ridicule me of how stupid I had been.”

But if this was truly a second chance, I wasn’t going to waste it.

Not for the Andersons.

Not for Cindy.

Not for Frank .

This time, I would live for me.

And just when I thought I could adapt—start fresh, rebuild something real—I made the worst mistake of my second chance of life.

All it took was one night. One drink. One party. One blurred line.

And now I was carrying a child whose father I couldn’t even remember clearly.

The night it all happened was the same night of Cindy’s 19th birthday party—a grand celebration planned to perfection, hosted in an elite rooftop lounge that overlooked the city skyline.

I didn’t want to go. Goddess knows I didn’t.

“I have a migraine,” I told Cindy, clutching my temples.

She rolled her eyes. “You always have a migraine when it’s not about you.”

“I’ve got work tomorrow.”

She laughed. “Work? You mean those charity meetings? Oh please, Zetian, live a little.”

When that didn’t work, I tried honesty. “I just don’t fit in with your crowd.”

But Cindy wouldn’t take no for an answer. She twirled around in her silver gown, hair cascading like a goddess in moonlight.

“Come on, sis,” she sang. “You’re part of the family now. Stop hiding in the shadows.”

And then Frank appeared. Dressed sharply in black, smelling of cedar and arrogance. His eyes flicked over me with that familiar blend of disdain and pity.

“Don’t make this difficult, Zetian,” he said under his breath. “It’s just one night.”

Just one night.

I wish I had listened to my instincts.

I wish I’d never stepped into that limousine.

But then, I thought it was all going to happen the way it had happened in my previous life, but no it took an entirely different turn on me. Even when I thought I would be conscious of their attack, I still fell a victim.

**************

The party was everything I hated. Loud music. Flashing lights. The smell of expensive liquor mixed with perfume that clung to your throat. Everyone looked polished, plastic, perfect. Laughter echoed like knives in crystal halls.

I stayed in a corner, clutching a glass of sparkling wine I had no intention of finishing. Cindy was in her element — her laughter slicing through the crowd as she danced and twirled under a chandelier that sparkled like diamonds.

Frank was nowhere in sight. Not that I wanted him near me.

I was already counting down the minutes until I could leave when a waiter appeared with a tray of drinks. The glasses glowed faintly blue beneath the lights.

“Special mix for the Anderson sisters,” he said, winking.

I frowned. “Anderson sisters?”

Before I could question him further, Cindy was suddenly beside me, all glitter and fake warmth.

“Don’t be boring, Eve,” she cooed, handing me a glass. “Just one sip. You’re ruining the vibe.”

“I really shouldn’t—”

“Oh, come on! It’s my birthday. Don’t make me beg.”

Her tone was playful, but her eyes — sharp, unyielding. I didn’t want to cause a scene as all eyes shifted to me, so I gave in.

One sip.

Then another.

And another.

The taste was sweet at first — fruity, pleasant — but then the room started to spin. The lights blurred, voices warped, laughter stretched into strange echoes. My vision swayed as I tried to steady myself against a wall.

“Cindy… what was in that drink?” I slurred.

She smiled. Too calmly.

“Relax, sis. It’s just a little something to help you loosen up.”

The floor tilted beneath me. My legs went numb. The music grew distant.

The next thing I remembered clearly was stumbling through a hotel corridor.. Barefoot. My clutch gone. My head pounding like a drum.

The air smelled of cologne and hotel polish. I didn’t know how I got there. My vision was foggy, my mind scattered.

Then — a door opened.

A shadow stepped out. Tall. Broad shoulders. The faint glint of beautiful pair of eyes.

Strong hands caught me as I stumbled. My heart jumped.

“Mate!”

Gemini — my wolf — roared inside me.

But my head was spinning too much to understand anything.

I wanted to speak. To ask who he was. But the words tangled in my throat.

He led me inside. My surroundings blurred into darkness.

And then — nothing.

************

When I woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the blinds, slicing across a room I didn’t recognize. My head throbbed. My body ached. My skin felt foreign, touched, claimed.

I looked beside me.

Empty sheets.

No one there.

Just the lingering scent of a man I didn’t know — earthy, sharp, intoxicating.

Panic shot through me. I scrambled to gather my clothes, my purse, my phone. My hands were trembling as I stepped out of the hotel room, praying no one would see me.

Back home, I stood under the shower for an hour, scrubbing my skin raw. I told myself it had to be Frank . It had to be him.

Gemini stirred inside me again, voice fierce.

“Mate!”

Yes. It was Frank . Who else could it be? I only had one mate.

He’d seen me at the party. Maybe we slipped away together. Maybe the alcohol had blurred the lines, but he had taken responsibility.

The Moon Goddess didn’t make mistakes.

Or so I thought.

*******

Days passed. I avoided Frank . Avoided Cindy. Avoided everyone even mirrors. But something felt different. My body, my mood — off balance.

Then my period never came.

Once.

Twice.

By the third week, I bought a test, praying I was wrong.

The result appeared in seconds.

Positive.

Pregnant.

My knees gave out. The test slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I sat there, on the cold marble tiles of the Andersons estate’s bathroom, shaking as tears spilled down my cheeks.

“Why?” I whispered to no one. “Why again?”

Pregnant.

Seven weeks.

Due in early spring.

That night, I called Frank .

He picked up on the second ring, his tone clipped, impatient.

“What is it?”

“I need to talk to you,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s important.”

Silence.

Then I told him.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. I thought maybe he’d hung up. And then—

“Are you sure it’s mine?” His voice was flat. No excitement. No comfort.

Five words.

Five words that cut deeper than any acid ever could.

I couldn’t even breathe.

He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t offer to come over. All he said was that.

I hung up.

For days, I stayed locked in my room. The curtains drawn. The world shut out. I cried until my throat was raw, until my reflection in the mirror looked hollow again — a ghost in a body that didn’t feel like mine.

I had been given a second life.

And somehow, I’d already ruined it.

My family’s reaction was predictable. Shock. Disgust. Calculation. The Andersons name could not afford scandal.

“Marriage,” Father had said sharply. “Before anyone finds out. Quiet. Quick. Clean.”

But Frank never proposed.

He never visited.

Never looked at me again.

He simply nodded when the arrangements were made — as if marrying me was a chore he couldn’t avoid.

Though I wanted nothing to do with him in this life, I had no choice.

For the sake of the innocent life growing inside me, I convinced myself I could survive the lie one more time.