Catherine sat in the corner of the history club room, watching girls swarm Maximilian with "questions" that had very little to do with history.
It was her first ti attending the club.
She was bored out of her mind.
She honestly didn’t understand how anyone stayed awake listening to his deep, steady voice dissect ancient wars and fallen empires, but clearly, she was in the minority. The girls around him were practically glowing. There were squeals, dramatic gasps, and even little victory dances when he called on soone.
That part, at least, made her smile.
So of them drifted over to sit beside her, chatting freely. She understood maybe half their slang, but their carefree energy was contagious. For a mont, she almost felt her age; felt light, almost normal, as if she wasn’t battling supernatural curses.
Almost.
Her gaze dropped, again, to the bracelet on her wrist.
It had opened. It had almost fallen off.
She had almost been free.
What made it loosen? And what made it clasp shut again?
Her fingers brushed the cool tal, frustration tightening her chest.
One thing was certain now.
The bracelet didn’t bind only her and Maximilian. Dorian was connected to it too.
But how?
Dorian.
Just thinking of him left her conflicted. He had helped her family. He had offered her an entire departnt in his company. He wanted to marry her.
On paper, it sounded noble.
But the way he pursued her... the way he assud, the way he claid, it revealed sothing else. He still believed their past life gave him rights over her in this one.
And Maximilian...
After they left BioQuant, he hadn’t said much. He’d gone quiet, thoughtful. When she tried to bring up the bracelet, he only nodded, distant, as if wrestling sothing in his own mind.
He hadn’t pushed her.
Hadn’t demanded answers.
Hadn’t touched her.
She exhaled slowly and stared at the bracelet again.
She didn’t want Dorian.
But she didn’t want Maximilian either.
Not fully.
In this life, he had been patient. Protective. Respectful.
But the past life still lingered between them like a scar that hadn’t healed properly.
It’s true...Her body reacted to him, and her heart leaned toward him.
But trust?
Trust was fragile. With him, she’d wonder each day if that day would be the day he’d stab her in the back.
Should I et Dorian one more ti... and try to remove this bracelet?
The thought unsettled her imdiately.
She didn’t want to see him again. Not after today.
The more she thought about it, the deeper the confusion grew. She wanted to live in the present. She wanted to forget the past.
But the bracelet wouldn’t let her.
It pulsed softly against her skin, a reminder that her fate was still entangled with two n she wasn’t sure she could believe in.
Across the room, Maximilian’s voice carried as he explained sothing about ancient alliances built on betrayal.
How ironic.
Catherine looked down at her wrist once more.
She felt trapped.
And for the first ti since waking into this second life... She had no idea who could set her free.
-----
That evening, they went to Dr. Morcant’s ho for dinner.
Maximilian’s mother lived nearby, in his neighborhood, cobblestone streets, wrought-iron balconies, warm golden lights glowing behind lace curtains. Her house was small and brick, almost storybook-like, with a narrow backyard that slled of rosemary and thy.
It felt... safe.
Dr. Morcant... Eileen, showed Catherine around with open pride. The house wasn’t large, but it was full of mory. Maximilian’s childhood room had been preserved exactly as it was: shelves lined with old trophies, history books stacked in uneven piles, a faded world map pinned above the desk.
Maximilian had referred to her as his girlfriend, and his mother’s eyes lit up seeing her with him, the baby in her arms.
Before Catherine could correct it, she found herself seated on the couch, a thick photo album placed in her lap.
She could have explained.
She didn’t.
Instead, she turned the pages.
It was strange.
Another life. Another tiline.
Yet when she saw Maximilian with a missing milk tooth, grinning proudly at the cara, sothing in her chest tightened. He looked exactly as she rembered—mischief dancing in his eyes, chin lifted as if daring the world to challenge him.
There was the sa playful arrogance. The sa smirk that used to infuriate her.
Page after page.
Then...
Sixteen.
The change was abrupt.
The light in his eyes was gone.
Her fingers stilled over his high school graduation photo. He stood tall, handso, composed... but his gaze was hollow. Solemn. Guarded.
As if sothing inside him had shut down.
Her chest ached.
Without thinking, her thumb brushed lightly over his printed face.
She wanted to hold that boy. To wrap her arms around him and tell him it wasn’t his fault. That he didn’t have to carry everything alone.
"His father died when he was sixteen," Eileen said softly, noticing Catherine’s lingering gaze.
Catherine looked up.
"It was his birthday," Eileen continued, her voice unsteady. "Max was in the car with him. It was snowing. There was a storm warning." She swallowed. "His father had forgotten his present at ho. Max insisted they go back out. He wanted a car... right then."
Her head bowed.
Before Catherine realized it, a tear had slipped from her own eye, landing warm against her hand.
"No one expected it," Eileen whispered. "And I... I was unprepared. I knew research. I knew physics. I didn’t know how to run a household, not even paying the bills."
Catherine reached across the table and gently held her hand.
She had heard the rumors—that Dr. Morcant had married into a legacy family, that she had been called opportunistic.
But listening to her now, Catherine heard only love.
For her husband.
For her son.
"My boy..." Eileen smiled through tears. "Max took everything onto his shoulders. His grandfather despised him. Called him a murderer. Said he killed his own father." Her voice trembled. "But my boy... he beca the pillar of this family. I wouldn’t have survived without him."
Catherine handed her a tissue.
Sixteen.
Sixteen was too young to lose a father. Too young to be blad for it. Too young to beco the head of a family.
Her throat tightened.
In their past life, Maximilian had at least been free until twenty. Careless. Reckless. Privileged.
But in this life?
He had been forged early.
Maybe that was why he held himself back now. Why he chose restraint over impulse. Why his anger simred but never spilled onto her.
Catherine closed the album slowly.
The bracelet felt heavier on her wrist.
For the first ti, she wasn’t just questioning whether she could trust him.
She was wondering how much pain he had buried just to stand steady in front of her. He had decided to stand by her side.
She sighed.
"She’s here," Maximilian ca to the room. No traces of that emptiness on his face, his face bright with a smile, as if he had achieved sothing.
Catherine’s heart clenched knowing, that she was the reason for his happiness.
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