I watched him wrap his arms around a stunningly attired woman as they glided into the opulent villa. A pang of realization struck me.
What happened that night was a meticulously planned scheme.
***
My eyes fluttered open to the dim glow of the clock reading 1:50 a.m.
Beside me, my three-year-old daughter, Poppy, slept peacefully. I was back in our cozy, loving home, a sanctuary that time had seemingly rewound.
Only then did I realize that I was reborn, given a chance to rewrite my fate.
I pressed my fingers firmly against my temples, trying to massage away the confusion as I summoned the last clear memory.
I had been nothing but obedient, following Henry's instructions to pick him up in the wee hours.
The road stretched out into a remote abyss, devoid of even the faintest glow of a streetlight. Darkness enveloped everything. My only beacon in this sea of night was the harsh, revealing beam of car headlights cutting through the void.
A homeless man emerged from the shadows. His clothes hung in tatters, and his eyes, glinting with a mix of desperation and malice, fixed upon me with an unsettling intensity.
Fear had rooted me to my seat, so I dared not step out but texted Henry.