February 13, 2024.
His breath hitched.
“A year back?”
His fingers tightened around the mug’s handle as the weight of everything came crashing in. The betrayal. The blood. The clock. Destiny.
Was this really happening?
The pantry door creaked open, and in walked the devil draped in charm—Matt Wilson.
Adrian froze.
The sight of him stirred something volatile in his chest. He could still feel the phantom sting of the bullet ripping through him. The echo of Sarah's lies. The smugness in Matt's voice that night as he said “You’re not a kid, Adrian.”
Adrian gritted his teeth.
"Yo, Earth to Adrian." Matt waved a hand in front of his face, a casual smirk tugging at his lips. "You good, man?"
Adrian forced a smile, the bitterness hidden just behind the curve of his lips. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Matt leaned against the counter, cracking open a bottle of cola. “So, the plan is on?”
Adrian blinked. “What?”
Matt laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” His expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Tonight. You, me, Sarah. Private dining club? Ring? Big proposal?”
Adrian's mind rewound at lightning speed.
Of course.
This was the night.
The night Matt met Sarah for the first time.
The night Adrian dropped to one knee and gave his heart away forever—
only to have it crushed.
He remembered everything. The scent of roses, the warm candlelight, the velvet box in his pocket. The fake gasps. The stolen glances between Sarah and Matt across the table. How Matt wore a tux, glossier than Adrian’s own, like it was some twisted competition.
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He clenched his jaw, then looked at Matt. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten,” he said smoothly. “We’ll meet at 10.”
Matt raised a brow. “Cool. Don’t be late this time.”
Adrian only smiled as Matt walked out.
He returned to his desk and opened his drawer, pulling out a small velvet box. Inside gleamed an emerald ring—set in intricate vintage gold filigree. Elegant. Regal. Just like Sarah loved.
He held it for a beat longer, then shut it with a quiet click and slipped it into his coat pocket.
His mind buzzed with questions.
Why a year? Why this specific moment?
Am I here to change my fate? Undo my death?
Or... is this the start of something bigger?
His phone lit up.
Noah: Hey, one of my friends bailed. Want to come for fireworks tonight? Just a small gathering. Could use your company.
Adrian stared at the message.
He had invited me that day.
And I said no.
He looked at the time: 2:30 PM. The fireworks were at 9.
He whispered to himself, “Adrian, you’ve watched too many sci-fi movies.” A rueful chuckle escaped him. “Rule number one—don’t make major changes. Let the big events happen. But…”
An idea sparked.
He grabbed his coat and left the office.
11:55 PM.
La Lumière Private Dining Club.
The air inside buzzed with soft jazz, clinking glasses, and the low murmur of expensive conversations. At a dimly lit corner table, Sarah and Matt sat, the flicker of candlelight dancing on their faces.
They looked too close.
Matt whispered something, and Sarah laughed a little too loud. Her hand brushed his. Neither seemed to notice Adrian wasn’t there yet.
But then the lights dimmed.
A spotlight swirled.
A silhouette appeared at the far end of the hall, the crowd turning slowly, murmuring.
The spotlight narrowed—illuminating Sarah, dressed in emerald green. She gasped softly as the silhouette came into focus.
Adrian.
But not the same man.
Gone was the sweet, slightly awkward boy-next-door. Standing in his place was a man transformed—tall, confident, dressed in a midnight blue tailored suit, his dark hair styled with precision, sharp jaw clean-shaven. His eyes, though still those mesmerizing blues, now carried a storm within them.
He walked slowly toward her. Graceful. Composed. Unreadable.
Then he dropped to one knee.
“Sarah,” his voice was deep, calm, practiced, “you’ve been my valentine for years. But tonight, I want you to be mine forever.”
He opened the box.
“Will you marry me?”
Sarah’s eyes sparkled. Her lips trembled.
“Yes!” she gasped, launching into his arms, kissing him.
The restaurant erupted in applause and champagne flutes clinked in celebration.
But Adrian’s eyes had already moved past Sarah.
To the man across the table.
Matt Wilson.
Holding his glass just a bit too tight. His face strained behind a smile. Eyes cold. Calculating.
Adrian smirked.
“The game is on.”