Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Reborn in His Arms

Delia woke up to a sharp, throbbing pain.

She struggled to lift her heavy eyelids, her blurry vision slowly sharpening.

Where was this?

Definitely not hell.

The last thing she remembered was the searing pain of bones shattering.

And Curtis...

His name hit her like a knife to the chest.

She jerked her head up, eyes darting around in panic.

Not too far away, someone sat on the couch.

The man was dressed in a fitted black shirt with an undone collar.

Even though he was in a wheelchair, his back was straight, posture tense, like he was carrying the weight of the world.

His head drooped slightly, a few strands of black hair falling over his brows, shadowing his face.

Still, Delia recognized him instantly.

Curtis.

A rush of shock and overwhelming joy swelled up inside her.

She barely noticed the pain anymore, stumbling across the room like her life depended on it, throwing herself at his figure.

"Curtis!" she choked out, her voice breaking.

She clung to him like a drowning person grabbing the last lifeline, burying her tear-streaked face into his chest.

After what felt like forever, Delia straightened, reluctantly cupping Curtis's face with both hands.

The moment she launched into his arms, Curtis froze up completely.

He just sat there, stunned.

This... this wasn't the reaction he'd expected.

If he'd learned anything from their past arguments, she should've been screaming, blaming him-or threatening with something dramatic.

Now, seeing her in tears, clinging onto him like that, his brows furrowed deeply.

It hadn't even been that long ago she was tearing him apart with cruel words, saying she'd rather die than keep this marriage going.

And now this? What game was she playing now?

He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt, a cold spot blooming across his chest.

Her slender fingers brushed against his face, soft and cool to the touch. There was a flicker of something unfamiliar in him-but it didn't last.

The hope died almost as quickly as it came.

He'd seen enough of her emotional whiplash to know better.

"Let go," Curtis said flatly.

"No," Delia murmured, holding him tighter.

With tears still clinging to her lashes, she stared hard at the man she hadn't seen for what felt like a lifetime.

Sharp brows, dark eyes, that tightly pressed mouth that strangled so many words before they formed-damn, why hadn't she noticed before?

He was exactly her type.

Without thinking, her face inched closer-then she bit his lip.

"Mmm-!" Curtis's eyes widened, but she had him locked in place, arms tight around him.

Delia clumsily ran her tongue along the spot, then let go, stunned at what she'd just done.

Her cheeks flamed. "I... I didn't mean to..."

Would he even buy that?

She wanted to slap herself. What the hell was she thinking?

Great timing to lose control and plant one on him.

Curtis's expression shifted between awkward and annoyed, even a little shy somehow.

"What are you doing now?" His voice was low, his ears visibly red as he tried to calm down.

He used to dream about her kissing him-but not like this.

This just felt like some awkward joke, something thrown his way without real meaning.

Curtis shut his eyes, inhaling what remained of her scent.

When he opened them again, Delia was still frozen there, hand covering her mouth, staring like she'd completely glitched.

He took advantage of her dazed state, gave her a light shove.

Delia, still weak, stumbled back and landed on the cold floor.

A flash of concern crossed his face, but it vanished a second later.

As she looked up at him with wet eyes full of sorrow, she whispered, "Curtis, I..."

"That's enough," Curtis interrupted, his voice flat and drained, like he'd already given up. "I've agreed to it."

"They're printing the divorce papers right now. Let's just sign them in a bit."

Divorce papers?

A sudden jolt pulled Delia back-right, today was the day.

This was the day, in her past life, when she'd threatened to take her own life just to make him agree to the divorce.

Fear surged up inside her like a tidal wave.

No, not this time.

She'd gotten another chance-how could she possibly let him go again?

"I'm not divorcing you," she blurted out, shaking her head fiercely. "Curtis, I changed my mind. I don't want the divorce."

She sounded frantic, almost out of breath trying to make him believe her. "I'm serious. I really regret it!"

Curtis gave her a long, unreadable look before a tiny, bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Just sign it."

Then he turned around and walked out without giving her another glance.

Seeing him leave made Delia panic. She tried to chase after him, but her sore body lagged behind.

Without thinking, she wiped tear tracks from her face-only to freeze.

Her skin was smooth. Like porcelain.

Gone were the disfiguring scars from the fire.

In disbelief, she looked down at her hands.

Aside from a little scrape on her wrist from when she fell earlier, her skin was pale and flawless.

She quickly ran her fingers along her neck-no burn marks. Nothing. Everything was intact.

Delia dug her nails into her arm.

It hurt. Bad.

She winced.

But the pain was real-so was this place. The study. Curtis sitting in his wheelchair.

And her body, untouched by fire...

The thought hit her like a thunderclap.

Had she... come back?

Was this a second shot at everything?

And just like that, joy and grief crashed into her all at once, tears spilling even as she smiled through them.

Curtis was just pulling the door open when he glanced back-and saw the mess Delia had become.

In his eyes, she'd finally lost it. All this madness, just over a divorce?

His expression froze for half a second before he masked whatever he felt, turning away again.

Delia scrambled up from the floor, not even worrying about the tangled mess her hair had become.

She could hear the soft hum of wheels from downstairs now-Curtis's wheelchair.

His legs were injured. He couldn't walk without it.

He hadn't gone far.

A spark of hope lit up in her chest.

She darted out of the study, her only thought to get to him.

"Curtis, hold on!"

Ignoring the spinning in her head, she staggered toward him as fast as she could.

All she saw was his back, moving further away.

She couldn't let him leave. Not like this.

In her last life, everything fell apart the moment they divorced.

This time, she had to stop him-whatever it took.

Delia pushed herself, sprinting until she caught him just as he was about to open the front door.

She spread her arms wide, blocking his path.

She was panting hard, shoulders rising and falling with each breath, a total wreck-but her eyes were blazing.

"What now?" Curtis stared at her, brows pulled tight.

Did she seriously want out this badly?

So badly she couldn't wait and had to bolt now?

His lips twitched, another self-deprecating smile threatening to show.

Maybe she really hated him.

But then-she shook her head.

She met his eyes, voice trembling, "Curtis, listen to me. I'm not going through with the divorce."

Where should she even begin?

If she told him the truth-that she'd been reborn-he'd probably think she'd gone completely off the rails.

Delia's throat felt dry as sand. She drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to focus.

Then she locked eyes with him, holding his skeptical gaze with everything she had.