Chapter 3
"You're awake!"**
I jolted upright, my chest heaving as if I'd just crawled out of hell. The scene before me left me completely stunned—this was our bedroom, sunlight streaming through the familiar beige curtains onto the bed, the calendar on the wall showing a date from three months ago.
'This is impossible...'
Phoenix sat beside the bed, his eyes filled with anxiety and concern. He reached out to gently touch my forehead, his fingertips so warm they made me want to cry.
"You've been unconscious for three hours. You scared the hell out of me," his voice trembled. "The doctor said it might be work stress and recommended more rest."
I stared at his face. Those familiar deep blue eyes held no trace of coldness, only pure worry. This was completely different from the Phoenix in my memory.
"Phoenix?" My voice was hoarse. "You... you're not dead?"
He frowned, pressing his palm against my cheek. "What do you mean not dead? Baby, do you have a fever? Did you have a nightmare?"
'Baby? He called me baby?' My heart pounded violently. In my memory, Phoenix hadn't called me that in seven years.
"I've already called in sick," he continued, his fingers gently brushing the hair from my forehead. "I'm staying home with you today."
I struggled to organize my thoughts. If this really was three months ago, it meant I'd been reborn. But why was Phoenix being so tender with me? In my memory, this should have been when he was at his coldest toward me.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Phoenix's frown deepened. "You look confused."
"I... I'm just a little disoriented." I carefully sat up, taking in everything in the room. Everything was exactly as I remembered, except for Phoenix's attitude.
He immediately stood up. "I'll go make you breakfast. Your favorite—French toast and blueberry yogurt."
I watched him leave the room, my heart a tangle of emotions. This Phoenix remembered what I liked, cared about my health, and had even called in sick to take care of me. This was nothing like the cold, distant husband from my memory.
'What the hell happened?'
Half an hour later, I sat at the kitchen table, watching Phoenix bustle around the counter. He wore an apron, focused intently on cooking French toast with movements so practiced they surprised me.
"When did you learn to do all this?" I couldn't help asking.
"What do you mean?" He looked back with a smile. "I've always known how. Don't you remember when we were newlyweds? I made you breakfast every morning."
I was stunned. In my memory, Phoenix had never made me breakfast, and rarely even came home for dinner.
He walked over with a plate, setting down perfect French toast in front of me, dusted with powdered sugar and fresh blueberries. "Eat while it's hot. I also made your favorite Earl Grey tea."
I carefully took a bite—it really was exactly how I liked it. Phoenix sat across from me, chin propped on his hand, watching me eat with complete satisfaction in his eyes.
"Phoenix," I set down my fork, deciding to test the waters. "Do you remember what happened at the chemical plant?"
His expression instantly became complex, his hand on the table curling slightly into a fist. "Of course I remember. That was the most terrifying day of my life."
"Can you tell me about it?" I waited nervously for his answer.
He took a deep breath. "You rushed into the fire to protect evidence proving the plant was illegally dumping chemical waste. I chased in after you to save you and nearly got crushed by a falling steel beam." His voice shook slightly. "I'll never forget the feeling of almost losing you."
My heart nearly stopped beating. This was completely different from my memory. In my memory, Phoenix had chosen to save Daphne instead of me.
"What about Daphne?" I asked carefully.
"Daphne?" Phoenix thought for a moment. "She was outside providing emotional support, helping coordinate the rescue. But you were the real hero, Aurora."
'This is wrong, completely wrong.' My mind was in chaos. Why was Phoenix's memory the complete opposite of mine?
"What's wrong?" Phoenix noticed my distress. "Are you remembering something bad? The doctor said PTSD symptoms can last a long time."
I shook my head, forcing a smile. "Nothing, just wanted to confirm."
But my internal questions were multiplying. If I really had been reborn, why were Phoenix's memories so confused?
That afternoon, Phoenix went out to the pharmacy to buy vitamins and calming tea. I seized this opportunity to sneak into his study.
Everything in the study was neat and tidy, but I remembered he had a private storage cabinet that was usually locked tight. I found the cabinet behind his desk, and to my surprise, it wasn't locked.
'Maybe in this timeline, our relationship is different?'
I carefully opened the cabinet door. Inside were various file folders arranged neatly. My gaze was immediately drawn to one marked "Aurora Case."
My hands shaking, I pulled out the folder and opened the first page. It was a copy of the fire investigation report, covered in Phoenix's handwriting.
"Ignition point proves it was an inside job... Aurora was outside the building... she couldn't possibly be the arsonist..."
I kept flipping pages. Every single page was analysis and proof of my innocence. Timeline analysis, witness testimony comparisons, even screenshots from surveillance footage.
"Surveillance shows Aurora was still outside the building ten minutes before the incident... Internal explosive devices require professional knowledge to install... Aurora lacks relevant skills..."
"Aurora? What are you doing in the study room?"
I spun around. Phoenix stood in the doorway, pharmacy bag in hand, his face full of confusion.
"These files..." I held up the investigation report. "When did you investigate all this?"
His face instantly went pale. He strode toward me, trying to snatch the files from my hands. "Those... those are just..."
He stopped, all the energy seeming to drain from his body. "I..."
Phoenix slowly backed against the wall, covering his face with both hands. "I'm a coward... I've known you were innocent for a long time, but I didn't know how to face you, how to admit I was wrong."
His voice was full of pain. "I destroyed you, destroyed us. I didn't know how to apologize, how to make amends. I could only pretend to keep hating you, because admitting the mistake was more painful than continuing to be wrong."
I stared at him, anger and sadness warring in my heart. "So you chose to make me bear all of this?"
"I know I'm a bastard, I..." Suddenly, Phoenix clutched his head, crying out in pain. "My head... it hurts so much..."
He collapsed to his knees, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his expression agonized. I'd seen this symptom before—usually severe migraines.
"Phoenix?" I dropped the files and knelt beside him.
"I always feel like I've forgotten something important..." he said with difficulty. "Daphne... she was at the scene... why did I try to save her? I should have saved you..."
My heart pounded violently. Was he starting to remember the real memories?
But Phoenix's pain intensified. He curled up on the floor, more sweat beading on his forehead. "I can't remember clearly... but something's wrong... why are my memories so confused?"
I looked at Phoenix in pain, my mind full of questions. Why did he have two different sets of memories? Why did he get headaches when Daphne was mentioned? What did this rebirth really mean?
