Chapter 2: A New Beginning

“Ms. Margaret,” the doctor intervened, “let’s step into my office. We shouldn’t overwhelm her or complicate her recovery.”

They both slipped out of the room.

Leaving me alone with the pounding in my skull and a swarm of thoughts that made no sense.

I needed air. Movement. Answers.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My muscles trembled from disuse. Still, I forced myself up. My hand shook as I pulled the IV needle out, leaving drops of blood staining the white hospital gown.

I didn’t care.

I stumbled toward the bathroom door and pushed it open.

This was supposed to be simple—just wash my face, breathe, regain clarity.

I used the toilet, flushed, and walked toward the mirror.

The moment my eyes met the reflection, I froze.

My breath vanished.

My knees nearly buckled.

The face staring back…

It wasn’t me.

Or rather—it was me.

But from years ago.

Younger. Softer. Teenaged.

I leaned closer, my heart thundering violently, fingers trembling as they hovered near the cold mirror.

“What… happened to me?” I whispered.

My mind spun.

How did I become a teenager again?

How was I alive at all?

A cold realization slowly, eerily settled over me:

This wasn’t survival. This was rebirth.

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Just as I closed the bathroom door and steadied my trembling legs, the woman walked back into the room. For a moment, my knees simply gave way. A wave of dizziness hit me so hard I had to clutch the doorframe, but she moved quickly—almost as if she’d expected it—her hands guiding me back toward the bed with a gentleness that twisted my heart.

She helped me sit, propping pillows behind my spine. My mind was spinning, still trying to absorb the haunting truth I had seen in the mirror. I had looked into the face of my teenage self. The same cheeks, the same wide eyes, the same frightened expression I once had at eighteen.

The shock hit me again like a blow to the chest.

I had been reborn.

Reborn into a body with my face, my name, my features. A girl who looked so perfectly like me that fate itself seemed to be laughing.

How many people in the world had an identical doppelgänger? And what were the chances that she would also be called Lucy Foster?

It was surreal—too surreal. Life felt like a movie someone had forgotten to pause.

The woman—my supposed aunt—cupped the back of my head, rubbing soft circles with her thumb as if trying to soothe not just my body, but the chaos ripping through my soul.

“Take it easy, baby,” she whispered, voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t exert yourself. Your body has been under a lot of stress. You don’t have to think too much. I’m right here with you.”

The warmth of her touch, the concern in her eyes… it softened something deep inside me. She loved the girl whose body I now inhabited. She loved her fiercely. That love seeped into me like warmth spreading into frozen limbs.

Then it happened—quietly, like a gentle wave washing over me.

I began receiving visions. Memories. Fragments of a life that was not mine, yet now was.

Images flickered behind my eyes—the younger Lucy growing up with this aunt, her laughter echoing through a small home, her dreams of becoming a pharmacologist, her excitement over receiving her university acceptance letter. Her hopes, her fears, her little joys.

And then… the accident.

A car rolling out of control, her head slamming into the dashboard, darkness swallowing her whole.

Two months of coma.

Two months of a body waiting for a soul.

And fate sent me.

In my previous life, I had been just an ordinary woman with an ordinary beginning—a pharmacist at a government facility, an orphan who learned early to depend only on herself. Then Kenneth happened. My Kenneth. My foolish, reckless, beautiful Kenneth who loved beyond reason and died because of it.

Pain pulsed in my chest.

But this new life…

This new body…

This new family…

Was I meant to start over? Fate had mirrored so much—same face, same name, same career choice, even the same field of study. It was strange enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

A frightening thought wormed its way in:

If my past is repeating… would I meet Kenneth again?

And worse… would I meet Patricia too?

The idea sent a cold shiver through me. I didn’t want to relive that nightmare. I didn’t want the shadow of that witch darkening this new life.

As if my silent plea reached the heavens, the memories of Patricia and Kenneth—of my death, of my pain—began drifting away like sand slipping between fingers. Not gone, but muted. Covered. Calmed.

What remained was the warmth of the woman beside me.

My hand trembled as I reached up to touch her cheek. A tear slid down her face, making my heart clench painfully.

“Aunty, please don’t cry,” I whispered, voice unsteady. “I remember now. I’m sorry I scared you… Mom.”

Her eyes widened, a mixture of shock and relief washing over her features before she grabbed my hand.

“Lucy baby,” she breathed, “did you get your memory back? Oh thank the goddess!” Her shoulders sagged with relief, her breath trembling as though she’d been holding it for weeks.

I nodded softly.

“I wasn’t even worried about you forgetting me,” she admitted shakily. “I was worried about the timing. School starts soon and you were nowhere near recovering. And…” she hesitated, “memory loss meant you might have had to skip your first year.”

I nodded again, understanding more than she knew. She loved me—this version of me—and I felt that love down to my bones.

This was my second chance.

A new beginning. A life I had been denied. A life I now intended to live fully.

A few days later, the doctor declared my recovery miraculous. My body felt new—lighter, younger, full of possibilities. Aunt Margaret took me home, and though the house felt unfamiliar, the warmth in it made it feel like a place I could belong.

Within a week, I was strong enough to go to the university and finalize my registration. The campus bustled with life—students dragging luggage, laughter echoing in the air, banners welcoming first-years. My dorm room was small but comfortable, and I instantly clicked with the girl assigned to share it with me.

Her name was Nelly Barot, a bubbly, expressive girl who talked with her hands and laughed with her whole body. She grabbed my arm like we were already best friends.

After dropping off my bags, we headed to the Student Center to register for cafeteria access, club memberships, and other student necessities.

We waited in a long line, chatting about courses and gossiping about professors when suddenly—

A strange pull washed over me.

My heart thudded hard, and before I knew it, I turned around.

And there he was.