The air in the dimly lit corridor was thick — too thick.

She took a step back, her pulse hammering in her ears. This isn’t real. It couldn’t be.

The woman — her past self — stood before her, a perfect reflection of what she once was. The same eyes. The same sorrow. The same weight of a past neither of them had chosen.

“You’re not real,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The woman — her — tilted her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“And yet, here I am.”

Her breath caught.

“I don’t want this,” she said.

A soft chuckle. “And yet, here you are.”

Her hands curled into fists. “You expect me to forgive him? After what he did?”

The past version of herself didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer — too close.

She could feel it.

Memories clawing at her skin, pressing against her mind.

“You want to hate him,” the woman said. “But tell me, does hatred feel like this?”

She opened her mouth — to deny, to argue — but nothing came out.

Because no — this feeling inside her wasn’t hatred.

It was pain. It was fear.

And worst of all — it was longing.

She squeezed her eyes shut. No. No, she wouldn’t fall into this.

But then — her past self spoke again.

“If you truly wanted him gone, why does your heart still reach for him?”

The words struck deep.

She had no answer.

Meanwhile, He Waited.

He sat in the cold, the chains digging into his skin.

Waiting. For her. For her decision.

For the moment he would know — whether she would ever look at him the same way again.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew the odds. She had every reason to walk away.

But a part of him still held onto the smallest hope.

Because this time… he had chosen to stay.

In every past life, he had left her.

But not this time.

This time, he would bear whatever punishment she chose.

Even if it meant losing her forever.

Even if it meant she would be the one to kill him in this life.

A Decision That Could Change Everything

She opened her eyes.

Her past self was gone.

But the words lingered.

She exhaled shakily, her chest aching.

She needed answers.

And there was only one person who could give them to her.

Her steps were hesitant, slow, but she forced herself to move.

Back to him.

Back to the man who had once been her executioner.

Back to the man who had risked everything to protect her now.

Back to the only person who had ever made her feel truly alive.

She didn’t know what she would say.

She didn’t know if she could forgive him.

But she would face him.

And this time, she wouldn’t run.