Irina Everhart
---
As I sat at the long, elegantly set table, the warm glow of candlelight flickered against the polished silverware and fine. The aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mixing with the soft chatter that filled the dining room. It was a scene of opulence that felt both familiar and foreign, reminiscent of the world I had once known but now viewed through the lens of a villainess.
Aunt Rachel, with her kind smile and gentle manner, was a stark contrast to the icy presence of my husband, Ezra, who sat beside me. His scowl deepened with each passing moment, his disdain palpable. I felt like a pariah in my own home, an intruder at a family gathering meant for warmth and camaraderie. Uncle Alexander, ever the neutral observer, seemed content to remain an island in this sea of familial tension.
"Pass the potatoes, dear," Rachel said, her voice like a soothing balm, as she reached for a serving dish. I marveled at how effortlessly she moved, her elegance a testament to her noble upbringing. I could see why Noah adored her—she radiated kindness.
Ezra, on the other hand, seemed determined to ignore me, his focus entirely on his plate. I wondered how someone could hold so much animosity for someone they barely knew. Was it merely because I was Irina Everhart, the villain of this story? I could feel his judgment like a heavy weight pressing down on me.
And then there was Noah. My heart fluttered as I caught his eye from across the table. How could I have been so blind? In my past life, I had never understood why Aaliyah was so obsessed with him, but now, seeing him in person, I understood all too well. His striking blue eyes sparkled like the ocean, capable of melting even the coldest hearts. He was perfect, more so than Ezra. But Ezra had his own unique allure—a kind of brooding intensity that pulled at me in ways I didn't yet understand.
I brought a forkful of food to my mouth, savoring the rich flavors, but my mind drifted. I was starving, yet as I ate, memories of my real parents flooded back. A pang of nostalgia hit me hard. I missed them, even though our last encounter had ended in a bitter argument. I couldn't shake the thought of how they might have reacted to my untimely death. Would they have cried? Would they have mourned?
And what about Aden? My second crush, the only man who had ever shown me kindness. He had treated me well when I was alive, and I couldn't help but wonder if he still remembered me. Would he have moved on? I sighed, imagining how different things might have been if I had confessed my feelings before it was too late. Aden Ilvyton —what a lovely name that was, and I hoped he had found happiness, even if it was without me.
Then my thoughts spiraled back to Seth Carver, my first love. How absurd it was to think of him in the context of this dinner. He and Ezra were remarkably similar: cold, distant, and devastatingly handsome. Why had I liked Seth for so long? The memories flooded in—how he and his friends had mocked me, tossing paper at me during lunch while I sat alone, all because Olivia was sick for days. They had laughed, and I knew Seth didn't join in with his friends, but he laughed along with them, leaving me feeling even more isolated.
Ezra and Seth could easily be best friends if they ever met; their behavior was infuriatingly similar, making me want to scream.
Lost in thought, Rachel's voice brought me back to the present. "Irina, dear, would you like to join me for a spot of tea after dinner? I've found some lovely blends that I think you'd enjoy."
I blinked, trying to shake off the weight of my memories. "Sure," I replied, my voice soft but hesitant. I had no idea what noblewomen typically did over tea, but I was willing to find out. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone to talk to who didn't look at me with disdain.
I remembered how the original Irina despised Celine, a maid, who had served her tea, causing a major scene that left everyone shocked. But I wasn't that person. I wouldn't flip out over something as trivial as a beverage. I liked tea, so why not?
Rachel smiled, and I could see a glimmer of relief in her eyes. "I'm glad you agree. It's a special blend I've been trying to perfect."
I grinned back, feeling a bit of warmth seep into my heart. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. It reminded me of a time back in my past life when Aaliyah bought me a burger without cheese. Sure, I was annoyed at first, but I still ate it because food was food! Irina's disdain for Celine was a product of jealousy, but I didn't want to emulate that. "I appreciate the thought," I added, realizing that Rachel was genuinely trying to be nice.
As dinner continued, I reflected on how my past life had shaped me. It was funny, really. In my previous life, I was the victim, and now I was somehow cast as the villain. Was I supposed to fulfill some twisted destiny? I didn't know, but I sure wasn't going to act like Irina.
With every forkful of food, I felt a mixture of anger and humor bubble inside me. How had my life turned upside down so quickly? And why did these men seem so determined to make my life more difficult? I was just a woman trying to navigate this absurdity. Why was everyone so intent on picking fights with me? I mean, come on! I was just eighteen! Or at least, that's what I believed—after all, I was dead now.