Chapter 2
I never expected to find myself twenty years in the past.
The pain from being hit by the truck still lingered.
But before my eyes was a sea of fire.
I huddled in the corner, wrapped in a wet blanket.
The crackling flames and the wailing sirens of fire trucks reminded me: this wasn't a hallucination before death. I really had been sent back twenty years.
Amid all the noise, I heard a voice I knew all too well.
It was Frank.
In this life, I was determined to keep my distance from him.
But the terror of dying had me instinctively reaching out for help. The moment I tried to speak, the smoke hit me hard, choking me until I couldn't stop coughing.
But the moment I managed to cry out for help, Frank's command sent a chill down my spine.
He didn't charge into the burning building to rescue me like he had in my previous life.
Instead, his tone was icy and detached. "No one's here. Let's check somewhere else and search carefully."
One of the firefighters hesitated. "But we haven't searched here yet, and I think I heard someone calling for help."
Frank's tone was harsh. "Are you the captain or am I? I have to keep everyone safe. Evacuate now."
Another firefighter asked, "Captain, where are you going?"
"I've got something urgent to handle," Frank replied.
Frank had traveled back in time too.
The flames were growing wilder and fiercer.
The wet blanket I'd wrapped around myself was already starting to dry out in the heat.
The air was so hot it felt like I was melting.
My skin stung and burned, the pain coming in waves.
The wild flames cut off any escape.
The flames crept closer, spreading toward the corner where I was huddled.
The air was so thin I could barely breathe, and I was about to pass out. Right before I lost consciousness, all I felt was regret and bitter hatred.
Fate dangled hope in front of me, only to shove me right back into the abyss.
I hated Frank. He could've just left me alone, but instead, he slammed the door shut on my only escape.
As my consciousness faded, a tall figure shielded me from the flames. He pulled me into a tight embrace.
I felt the cool, damp air against my nose.
Was that Frank?
I tried to open my eyes, but they felt like they were way too heavy to lift.
All I could see was a sharp jawline and lips pressed tightly together.
It wasn't Frank.
He moved gently, careful not to touch my injuries. I caught a faint, fresh soap scent on him, so different from the smoky smell that always lingered on Frank.
I was carried into the ambulance, and as the wailing sirens faded away, the heat gave way to cool air. Everything went blurry again as my consciousness slipped away.
When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was a white ceiling.
An IV was hooked up to my hand. The nurse saw I was awake and hurried to call the doctor.
The doctor examined me. "You've got some burns. You need to rest and recover."
I opened my mouth, my throat so dry it hurt. "The firefighters left, didn't they? Who saved me? Was it Frank?"
The doctor looked surprised for a moment. "No, Captain Carter had already left.
"One of the firefighters heard you calling for help as they were evacuating. He carried you out and ended up getting his arm cut in the process."
Once the IV was done, I gripped the railing and slowly walked out.
In my previous life, after Frank saved me, he barely stuck around before rushing off.
When he came back, he looked lost, like his mind was somewhere else.
I asked him what had happened.
He just shook his head and muttered that he was exhausted.
Thinking about it now, that must've been when Sophie got into trouble.
I sighed quietly, and just as I was about to leave, I caught sight of a familiar silhouette.
It was Frank.
Instinctively, I hid myself.
There was a girl with him.
I recognized her right away: Sophie, the girl from the photo.
Sophie, with her face tear-stained, said to Frank, "Yesterday, I messaged you instinctively."
Frank handed her a bouquet of roses and gently drew Sophie into his arms, his eyes wet with tears as well.
He was filled with the happiness of having her back.
"Sophie, I've missed you so much. You're the most important person in my life. No one could ever mean as much to me as you," Frank said.
My heart sank.
So Frank actually knew how to be romantic.
In my previous life, we spent twenty years together, and he was always so rigid. Never any flowers, never any gifts, not even on holidays or anniversaries. He was always working late.
He never once said anything romantic to me.
I felt a bit let down back then, but honestly, it didn't bother me much.
Looking at it now, it wasn't that he couldn't be romantic, or that he didn't know how to give gifts.
I just wasn't the person he wanted to do those things for.