The Woman Who Reclaimed Life

The antiseptic smell was the last thing I remembered. In my "other" life, the one that ended in blood and despair, I died from late-stage cancer in an unpaid hospital bed. My parents, Sarah and Robert, cried. They held my hand, promising to take care of everything, just as they had for years while I diligently sent them money for my health insurance. But they lied. The money was gone, squandered on a secret life. My father finally broke, confessing they' d adopted a son, Liam, channeling all my money to him, building a new family on the foundation of my slow death. The betrayal shattered something inside me. The weight of the kitchen knife, my mother' s scream, then nothing. Until I blinked. Sunlight streamed through my bedroom window. My husband, David, slept beside me. My body felt healthy, a full year before Dr. Evans' death sentence. A terrifying, undeserved second chance. I remembered the insurance renewal notice I' d ignored yesterday because I trusted them. This time, I wouldn't. When I called my mother, her usual syrupy sweetness faltered. "Oh... perfectly fine if you handle that yourself," she said, before asking for another twenty thousand dollars for renovations. I gave it to them, a ticket to the truth. Then came the photo: a blurry, half-demolished kitchen, and in the corner, a bright blue, brand-new plastic dinosaur. Liam already existed. The confusion lifted, replaced by a cold, sharp purpose. The hunt had begun.