Leila's breath came in quick, shallow gasps, each inhale as jagged and sharp as the realization that hit her. She had died. And now, she was here. Alive. The weight of it all was suffocating, like a heavy stone pressing against her chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. She had been given a second chance—one she hadn't asked for, but one that had been thrust upon her. A chance to rewrite her fate. But the questions swirled in her mind: What good was a second chance if she didn't learn from her mistakes? How could she trust herself to make the right choices this time?
Before, she had been a fool—blindly trusting Jace and Ellie. She had believed in their promises, in the facade of love and friendship that had seemed so solid, so real. But when the world started to break apart, when the infection spread and chaos took hold, they had betrayed her. Left her to die, left her to face the horrors alone. And worse—they had turned on her when she needed them most. She had felt the sting of their abandonment, the coldness in their eyes as they turned their backs on her, and now, she knew without a doubt that they would do it again. That realization struck her like a gut punch—sharp and unrelenting.
She stood in the middle of her room, staring at the calendar, her fingers trembling as they traced the date. It was three months before the outbreak, three months before everything would fall apart, and Leila wasn't going to let it happen again. This time, she wouldn't be blind. She wouldn't wait until it was too late. She was going to change things, take control of her fate before anyone else could decide it for her. Her hands clenched into tight fists, and a fire ignited in her chest—a burning, determined resolve. She wasn't going to let history repeat itself.
The next few days passed in a blur, time ticking away like the countdown to an inevitable disaster. Leila moved through her apartment with purpose, her every action deliberate, every step calculated. There was no time to waste. The world as she knew it was hanging on by a thread, and she had no intention of being caught off guard again.
She spent hours in her room, meticulously going through maps of the city, her mind racing with the lessons of her past life. The things she had learned—what to do, what not to do, and where to go when everything started to crumble. She had seen the early signs of the outbreak before, the subtle shifts that no one else had noticed until it was too late. The panic, the riots, the sudden loss of control—she had lived through it once, and she wasn't going to let it happen again.
She made a list—a long, detailed list of everything she would need to survive: food, weapons, medical supplies, anything and everything that could keep her alive when the chaos descended. She started to gather it all, moving quickly through her apartment as if she were already living in the future, already preparing for the world that was about to break apart. Her hands shook as she packed her bags, but it wasn't fear—it was focus, it was the clarity of someone who knew exactly what they were up against.
Leila turned her apartment into a small fortress, filling every nook and cranny with supplies, ready for the worst. She had learned in her past life how important it was to be prepared—how easily things could go from bad to worse. She stocked up on non-perishable food, water, and medical supplies. She picked up a few flashlights, ropes, tarps, and other practical tools. She even found weapons—knives, a crowbar, a hunting rifle she'd spotted hidden in the back of a local store, and boxes of ammunition. She had never wanted to rely on violence, but she had learned the hard way that the world was no place for naivety.
Each item she gathered felt like a small victory—a symbol that she was in control, that she could shape her own fate. It was the only way she could deal with the constant weight of fear pressing down on her chest, the looming threat of an outbreak that she couldn't escape, couldn't outrun. And yet, despite all the preparation, there was a part of her that knew supplies weren't enough. Eventually, survival would come down to her ability to read the world around her, to trust her instincts, and to make the right decisions in a world that no longer made sense.
The quiet moments were the hardest. When the adrenaline faded and she wasn't training, when she wasn't planning, she had time to think—and her mind inevitably returned to the past. To the betrayal. To the coldness of Jace and Ellie as they had turned on her. To the moments she had trusted them completely, only to have them leave her for dead when the world fell apart. The anger still burned in her chest like a hot coal, but she didn't let it consume her. Not yet. It wasn't about revenge, not now. It was about survival. And for that, she had to remain focused, had to keep her emotions in check. She couldn't afford to be clouded by the past. Not this time.
A few weeks into her preparations, Leila received a call from Jace. It was the same as it always had been, just a routine check-in. The same warmth in his voice, the same casual tone. But to Leila, it was different. She could hear the subtle cracks in his words, the hesitation. She had learned to hear them before, to sense when something wasn't quite right, and now, every fiber of her being was alert, her instincts sharp.
"Leila, you there?" His voice was familiar, too familiar.
"Yeah, I'm here," she replied, keeping her tone calm, steady. She didn't let him hear the tension gnawing at her insides, didn't let him hear the suspicion building in her chest. She wasn't ready to confront him, not yet. But the suspicion was there, swirling like a storm in her mind.
"You still up for that hike this weekend?" Jace asked, his voice light, as if everything were normal.
Leila hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to be cautious. Was he testing her? Did he know? Or was he completely unaware of the disaster about to unfold?
"I think I'll pass on the hike," she said, keeping her voice neutral, masking the wariness creeping up her spine. "I've got other things to take care of."
There was a pause. A long, heavy silence. Leila could practically hear the wheels turning in Jace's mind, wondering if she was hiding something, if she knew more than she was letting on. Finally, he cleared his throat, as if shaking off the tension.
"Alright, well… if you change your mind, you know where I'll be," he said, his voice warmer now, but it didn't feel right. It felt like a mask, like something was lurking behind it.
The conversation ended shortly after that, and Leila hung up, the weight of unease settling over her. Her mind raced, replaying the conversation over and over. There was something off, something in the air that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she knew deep down that she was being watched. Not by Jace, perhaps, but by someone. Someone who knew more than they were letting on.