Seo-yeon didn't go to school that day.
She sat on her bed, her back against the wall, staring at the clock.
Each second passed slower than it should.
Each minute stretched endlessly.
She wasn't sick.
Not physically.
But her life had become a waiting room.
Waiting for her father to return.
Waiting to see if she had succeeded.
Waiting to see if fate would resist.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her sleeve.
In her first life, this day had been ordinary.
Forgettable.
Meaningless.
She went to school.
Complained about homework.
Returned home.
Never realizing how close everything was to breaking.
Now—
Everything felt fragile.
Unstable.
She listened carefully.
The sound of the clock ticking.
The faint noise of cars outside.
Footsteps in the hallway.
Every sound made her heart jump.
Then—
She heard it.
The front door.
Opening.
Her breath stopped.
Footsteps.
Familiar footsteps.
Closer.
Her door opened slowly.
Her father stood there.
Unharmed.
Breathing.
He looked at her with concern.
"You said you didn't feel well."
Her vision blurred instantly.
She couldn't speak.
She couldn't move.
He stepped closer.
Placed his hand gently on her forehead.
His hand was warm.
Real.
"You don't have a fever," he said softly.
Her throat tightened painfully.
She stared at him.
At his face.
At his eyes.
At the man she had buried once.
"You came back," she whispered.
He blinked.
"…Of course I came back," he said gently.
He didn't understand.
He couldn't understand.
But she did.
She understood what this meant.
He wasn't on the road.
He wasn't driving.
He wasn't moving toward death.
He was here.
Because of her.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
Her chest filled with something fragile.
Hope.
Small.
Terrifying.
Powerful.
She had changed something.
Not fate.
Not completely.
Not yet.
But she had bent it.
And for the first time—
The future wasn't certain anymore.
She wasn't helpless anymore.
She wasn't waiting for tragedy anymore.
She was fighting it.
And she was winning.
Even if only for today.