"What do you think you're doing!?" Tia screamed, her muscles strained as she dangled precariously from the cliff's edge. "Let go of me right now!"
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Stella wasn't there to save her; she was there to finish her. With a final, cold-blooded shove, Stella sent Tia plunging into the abyss.
*****
Tia Draven awoke in her cozy matrimonial bed. Her hand instinctively reached for her husband, Michael Blaze, but the sheets were cold. He had slipped out early again, leaving without giving her a goodbye kiss. For fifteen years, Tia had endured Michael's growing indifference. He didn't care if she fell ill or went days without eating. In fact, Tia was certain he wouldn't care if she died.
Their wedding day had been the pinnacle of her happiness. Clad in her dream gown, she had been led down the aisle by her father, James Draven. Michael's smile that day had been so captivating it made her heart melt. The honeymoon phase was a dream; Michael had pampered her with such devotion she barely had to lift a finger.
But the dream had curdled. Recently, Michael had become a ghost in their home—always glued to his phone, returning late with lipstick stains on his collars, and treating her like an unwanted tenant. If she dared to confront him, his response was violence. He would yell until his veins popped or beat her until she drifted into unconsciousness.
Tia often wondered where the love had gone and which "tramp" had poisoned his mind against her. She had hoped her pregnancy would soften him, but the news left him cold. The abuse didn't stop, eventually leading to a devastating miscarriage.
Crushed by the loss of her child, Tia had spent her days weeping in isolation. She begged for his forgiveness for imaginary sins, clinging to the hope that he would "come back to his senses." It was a fool's errand; nothing she did pleased him anymore.
Then came that fateful dinner. They ate in their usual, suffocating silence. Michael scowled at his plate as if the food were ash, but Tia remained quiet to avoid a scene. When Michael stepped away to use the bathroom, he left his phone behind. A notification lit up the screen. Driven by a mix of dread and curiosity, Tia snatched it up.
The message read: "Hello love, I can't wait to hold you in my arms tonight. Please don't keep me waiting."
The sender was her best friend, Stella.
Tia's world shattered. She replaced the phone exactly as she found it, masking her agony with a mask of normalcy. When Michael returned, he checked the message, grabbed his coat, and walked out without a word.
Stella had been her confidante since high school. They had shared everything—except, apparently, the truth. Back in college, when Tia first fell for Michael, Stella had constantly discouraged her, claiming she "wasn't good enough" for him. But Tia had been head over heels; she fought for his attention and eventually won his heart. She never realized that Stella's "advice" was actually jealousy. Stella had wanted Michael for herself, and she didn't care that he was married to her best friend.
As Tia fell from the cliff, Stella's maniacal laughter echoed in her ears. The betrayal burned worse than the wind rushing past her. As the ground rushed up to meet her, she whispered a final, desperate vow: "I won't let this happen again... if I'm given another chance."
The universe listened.
*****
The shrill beep of an alarm clock snapped Tia awake. She fumbled for the bedside table and killed the noise. Sunlight streamed through the window, forcing her to squint. As she sat up and stretched, a wave of confusion hit her. This wasn't her marital home. This was her old dorm room at Westwood College—fifteen years in the past.
Tia frantically checked her limbs. No broken bones. No blood. "No, this isn't possible," she whispered, stinging her cheek with a sharp slap to prove she wasn't dreaming. The pain was real. The memories of her bones shattering on the rocks were still vivid, but here she was, whole and young.
She had been reborn. A second chance to fix the mess of her life was staring her in the face.
The door swung open, and her old roommate, Clara, stepped in. "Good morning, Tia. You've been out for a while. Don't you have a lecture today?" Clara grabbed her bag, glancing back at Tia.
Tia stared as if seeing a phantom. "Are you alright, Tia?" Clara chuckled.
"Yes... yes," Tia stammered, snapping out of her trance. "I forgot I had a class."
"You said it was an important one," Clara reminded her. "I'll catch you later!"
Tia grabbed her phone. The date on the screen confirmed her suspicions. She dressed in a blur and headed out, skipping breakfast. Walking through the halls of Westwood College made her skin crawl with nostalgia and dread. "Here we go again," she muttered, adjusting her bag.
"Hey, girl!" a voice called from behind.
Tia stiffened. She knew that voice too well. She turned slowly, her expression carved from ice.
"You forgot to wait for me at our usual spot," Stella said, crossing her arms playfully.
Tia raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do you not know the way to class on your own?"
Stella blinked, taken aback. "You could have called, at least." She moved to close the distance, but Tia instinctively stepped back.
"I didn't think it was necessary. You're here now, aren't you?" Tia turned on her heel. "See you in class." She sped away, leaving a bewildered Stella in her wake.
Tia entered the lecture hall. Everything was exactly as she remembered. She marched to the front row—the very spot Michael used to frequent. She didn't care. She popped in her earpieces, letting the music drown out the world as she waited.
A shadow fell over her. Someone tapped her shoulder. Tia pulled her earpiece out and slowly lifted her gaze.
Her heart skipped a beat, but not from love. It was Michael. Her husband. Her abuser. The man who had discarded her for her best friend.
Her eyes blazed with a fury she had never felt in her previous life. She wanted to strike him, to scream, but she held her ground. She wasn't that weak girl anymore. The era of being a doormat ended today.