Melina Solberg is twenty-eight when she learns she has three months to live. Her fiancé Adrian never shows up at the hospital. When she returns home, she finds him in the arms of her stepsister Lisa. She runs out in despair and is struck by a vehicle. In her dying moments, her life flashes before her: her mother Elise died saving her from a fire; her father Henrik blamed her and grew distant; her stepmother Vivian and stepsister Lisa tormented her for years, keeping her from the company and the
I am back for sweet revenge - The wedding is off.
The moment I opened my eyes, I knew the world was wrong.
After all, this wasn't the white ceiling of Fredhavn University Hospital. The smell of disinfectant, the mechanical beeping of the heart monitor—all of it was gone.
Instead, what filled my vision was a room I knew all too well. Pale pink wallpaper, white curtains, old novels lined up on the bookshelf. Morning light streaming through the window cast long, thin shadows across the floor.
"Why...?"
My voice was hoarse. No—my voice was young.
Melina Solberg slowly sat up. Her long hair cascaded from her shoulders down her back. Platinum blonde—reaching her waist, so translucent it seemed to glow in the light. Completely different from the thinning, falling hair she'd seen in the hospital room mirror that day.
*(I... should have died, shouldn't I?)*
Brain tumor. Three months to live. And then, that rainy day. The scene she'd witnessed in front of Adrian's house. Herself breaking into a run. The truck's horn. The sensation of her body being thrown into the air.
She remembered all of it, clearly. And yet.
With trembling hands, she grabbed her smartphone from the bedside table. The screen lit up. When she saw the date displayed there, her breath stopped.
—Age 23. The day before her wedding.
"It rewound..."
She couldn't move for a while, still clutching the phone. Her mind couldn't keep up with the understanding. Her head was strangely clear, but her heart lagged behind.
Fredhavn. She had lived her entire life in this port city on the Nordic coast. A city-state of 420,000 people, facing a fjord inlet. Winters dropped to minus 10 degrees, and even summer never exceeded 20. Cold sea winds swept through the streets—a quiet, beautiful place.
At its center, rising along the waterfront, stood "Wilson Tower." A 22-story glass high-rise. The headquarters of Wilson Family Group, built by her mother Elise as CEO.
And that mother was no longer here.
From her room's window, she could see Wilson Tower in the distance. Bathed in morning light, it gleamed white.
"Mama..."
Just saying it made her chest tighten.
She knew. She knew that tower was built from her mother's blood, sweat, and tears. She knew, and yet in her previous life, she'd been shoved into the General Affairs Department on the lowest basement floor. Days spent carrying documents, making copies, waiting for someone to come back. Monthly salary: 18,000 kroner.
It was ridiculous.
Now, she could see that.
She got out of bed and stood before the mirror. Reflected there was her 23-year-old self.
A 170-centimeter model figure. Long limbs, narrow waist, supple muscle. Before, she'd always hunched over, shrinking into herself, but now her back was straight. Her platinum blonde hair fell in loose waves, the ends swaying around her hips.
And her eyes.
Irises that shifted from diamond blue to hazel depending on the light. Those eyes stared straight back at her from the mirror.
*(Did I always have this face?)*
Before, she'd been more frightened. Always watching other people's expressions, averting her gaze.
Back then, I—wanted to be liked, played the person others wanted me to be, always put myself last.
When Vivian made snide remarks, I smiled and endured. When Lisa pinned the blame on me, I silently bowed my head. I gave everything to Adrian—everything, everything, everything.
And what was left at the end?
Nothing was left. I just fell apart and died.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Melina thought:
*Ah, I see. I can start over.*
Nausea rose. Tears welled up. But she didn't cry. This wasn't the time for crying.
Outside the window, seagulls cried. The sound of a tram echoed from the distance. An ordinary morning. And yet the world looked completely different.
—Her senses were too sharp.
The coldness of the air, the wind beyond the window glass, the faint sound of curtains swaying. A sensation of clarity that reached deep into her organs. So this is what a healthy body feels like.
At the end of her previous life, her body had already been broken. Without her even realizing it.
Her heart thumped.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway. Regular, calm, masculine footsteps.
Memories flashed back.
That morning. The day before the wedding. Adrian coming to her room with the marriage registration.
Yes. Today.
Her heart quickened. The nausea intensified.
*(He doesn't know anything. He knows nothing about my previous life.)*
Two knocks sounded on the door.
"Melina, are you awake?"
A familiar voice. Gentle, calm, the kind of voice that made people trust him.
Melina's hand unconsciously reached for her chest. The silver locket pendant hanging from her neck. Her mother's keepsake. Touching it with her fingertips, the cold sensation steadied her heart.
She took a deep breath.
"You can come in."
She said it as calmly as she could manage.
The door opened.
Adrian Falk.
29 years old. A lawyer at Holt Law Firm. Neatly styled light brown hair, soft green eyes. 178 centimeters tall, well-proportioned features. A perfect gentleman who made a good impression on anyone.
He was smiling.
"The day has finally come."
In his hand was a white envelope. The marriage registration.
The moment she saw his smile, the temperature of Melina's heart dropped.
*(This face. I believed in it for so long.)*
In her previous life. For years. This smile.
But she knew. She knew what lay behind this smile. Pretending to love her while secretly connected to Vivian.
He held out the marriage registration.
"Shall we fill it out together?"
A gentle voice. Gentle eyes. Gentle gestures. All of it, exactly like her previous life.
Melina looked at Adrian's face.
Then, memories of her previous life overlapped with his face. That rainy day scene—him embracing Lisa. That house. That bed.
—Her chest froze.
And yet, her hand almost moved on its own.
*(Don't take it. If you take it, you'll walk the same path again.)*
Instinct was trying to reach for his hand. The "good girl" habit ingrained over years. Wanting to please Adrian. Wanting to keep that smile alive.
But.
Melina clenched her fist. Her fingertips trembled. In her mind, she imagined killing something. Her obedient self. That version of her who'd been so pathetically starved for kindness.
She didn't need it anymore.
"...The wedding is cancelled."
The words came out naturally.
Adrian's movements stopped.
His smile froze.
"Eh...? What are you saying?"
His eyebrows twitched slightly. Confusion. Impatience.
"You're joking, right?"
"No."
She didn't look away.
The sound of a train passing echoed in the distance.
The city was greeting another morning, as always. Tourists walked along Harbor Promenade, and the café "Morgen" in the Strand district was sending up the aroma of coffee. The glass office building of Nordhaus reflected the sunlight, dazzling.
This city's morning was the same as ever.
But I was no longer the same as ever.
"Melina, are you feeling unwell? If you're pushing yourself, lie down."
Adrian took a step closer.
"I'm fine. More importantly, go home today. There's nothing to talk about."
She took a step back.
Between the bed and the desk. A narrow space. Wind came in through the window.
Adrian, still clutching the marriage registration, smiled awkwardly.
"Did something happen? Tell me. I want to support you."
*I want to support you.*
She'd heard those words so many times. In her previous life, over and over.
"If you want to support me, leave right now. That's enough."
The smile vanished from Adrian's face, like sound being cut off.
"...I don't understand. You've always been someone I could talk things through with."
"I think I'm not the same person I used to be."
These were the first words that would change her life.
Adrian's eyes. The soft green seemed to lose its light.
*(Ah, right. Those eyes. The eyes he has when his emotions aren't engaged.)*
Pathetically, even though the person she loved had eyes like that, the previous her had never noticed at all.
Adrian started to say something, then stopped.
"We'll definitely talk later. Alright?"
Leaving only those words, he walked out of the room.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
Melina crouched down on the spot.
Her palms trembled. Her breathing was shallow. It's okay. I'm okay. She told herself.
She'd cancelled the wedding. She did it. She actually did it.
But her heart felt far from liberated. If anything, her chest felt heavy.
*(In my previous life, I lived while looking at that smile.)*
Without ever knowing how heavy it was.
After a while, the downstairs grew noisy.
The Solberg residence was three stories tall. It stood on a hill in the Grünedahl district, on the outskirts of Fredhavn. From its large windows, the inlet was visible in the distance. The rebuilt house was impressive, but somehow cold.
In the living room, her father Henrik was furious.
"Melina, come down here!"
A low, restrained voice, seething with anger.
Melina stood up and lightly brushed off the hem of her skirt.
*(I made a different choice from my previous life. I did it.)*
From now on, this house would become a storm.
Her footsteps descending the stairs sounded unnaturally loud.
"What on earth are you thinking?! Cancelling the wedding?! The guests, the company associates—everyone is already preparing to come!"
Her father stood in the center of the living room.
Silver-streaked hair. Sharp eyes. A tall man impeccably dressed in a suit. Late fifties, honorary chairman of the company.
Sitting on the sofa was her mother—though not by blood, her stepmother. Vivian. At this moment, she said nothing, just watching.
—Those usual, quietly observing eyes.
*(Her face might be smiling, but her eyes aren't. That's the real thing.)*
In her previous life, those eyes had stabbed her invisibly, again and again.
And then, one more person.
A woman's voice burst from the phone's speaker.
"Wait just a moment, what is this?! Are you saying you've insulted my son?! Melina, as a daughter of the Solberg family, you have the bare minimum of responsibility! We've prepared the venue, the dress, everything—and now you're calling it off?! How do you plan to explain this to the guests?!"
A shrill voice. Adrian's mother. A woman who loved her connection to the Solberg family above all else.
"Father, please calm down. Lady Ingrid, please give us just a little time. I'm sure Melina has her reasons."
Vivian spoke in an elegant tone.
Her face was as beautiful as ever. Thin eyebrows, sculpted features. Her mouth curved in a soft smile, but her eyes were dark.
Henrik stepped closer to Melina.
"Think about appearances! Do you understand what your selfishness will do to the company's reputation?!"
Company. Reputation. Appearances.
That was all. That was all there was inside this man.
How his daughter had felt spending the night. What she'd be thinking when she woke up tomorrow. None of that mattered.
*(You never ask. You never listen to me.)*
Melina inhaled quietly.
"It's a decision I made."
The words were short. They trembled just slightly.
But she didn't explain to anyone.
Memories of her previous life. The terminal diagnosis. The betrayal. The accident. Even if she told them, these people wouldn't believe her.
Besides.
*(This time, I want to keep my own decisions for myself.)*
She'd only tell the people she wanted to tell. That was enough.
"Don't be ridiculous! I'm not asking about your feelings!"
"Do you have any idea how much you've hurt my son?! What kind of person are you?! You'll never be able to make this up to our Adrian, not in a lifetime!"
"Father, please don't raise your voice. Rest is important too. The girl is tired."
*Whose side are you on?* That's what she'd thought in her previous life.
Now she understood.
A clever position. Sweet poison designed to amplify the chaos and cement Melina's bad reputation.
The truly frightening people never raise their voices.
Tears threatened to spill. Frustrating. Sad.
But cry
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