My fingers drag lower to the heavy arc of my belly and stop there, shaky and unbelieving. Eight months swollen with life. With Ava, where she moves, a firm thud from the inside.
She is alive. She is safe.
That single fact crashes through everything I thought I knew.
“No… How is that… possible?” I hear my own voice and do not trust it; I do not trust anything. “What is happening..?”
I push up too fast and the room pitches. Instinct sends me to the bathroom. The mirror throws back a face I used to wear: twenty-one, unmarked, hair glossy black with that thin silver streak catching the light.
I remember when Celeste convinced me to dye it. I remember the reason she gave.
I remember the real reason too.
"Harper! Breakfast!" Mother's voice carried up the stairs, sharp with that familiar edge of disappointment.
The timeline knows its lines.
The descent required both hands—one gripping the rail, the other supporting my belly. The kitchen scene unfolded with nauseating precision.
Mother at the stove complaining about the Nightclaw Kin merger. Father absorbed in his tablet, reading the same article about politics.
"Good morning, sister." Celeste glided through the doorway in that soft pink dress, blonde curls perfect, carrying a steaming mug. "I made you special herbal tea."
That bitch…
The dark feelings inside boiling with extreme speed. I want to scream at her. Hit her. Straggle her with my bare hands. Took her life as she took mine in the… past? Future? Dream?
Was it all some kind of nightmare? Are there even nightmares in which you can live a whole life?
I don’t think so. Because I remember it. That exact same day I already lived.
And there’s only one way to see if it all truly was only a nightmare…
The ceramic burned against my palms as I took the cup. Steam rose with that sharp, distinctive scent that triggered memory.
The hospital, my throat closing, Celeste playing the devastated sister.
"Smells interesting." I say, setting the cup down. "What's in it?"
"Just herbs." Her smile held steady, green eyes watching. "Thought you might like something different from regular tea."
I lifted the mug again, inhaling deliberately. "Is that ginger?"
"Fresh grated." She tilted her head. "Is that a problem?"
"I'm severely allergic to ginger." The words came out flat, controlled. "Have been since I was a child. The Christmas party when my throat closed. You held my hand in the ambulance."
Her eyes flickered—calculation racing behind practiced innocence.
"Oh Goddess… Harper, I completely forgot!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I'm so sorry! How could I forget something like that?"
"Celeste, that's incredibly careless." Mother's sharp voice cut through. "Your pregnant sister could have died!"
"I'm really sorry! It just slipped my mind—"
"Like three years ago?" I picked up the mug, walked to the sink. "The garden party. You forgot then too."
I poured the tea down the drain while maintaining eye contact with my sister. Something shifted in her expression—confusion mixing with the first hint of unease.
"I really am sorry…" Her voice dropped, innocently small. "I should have remembered."
"Yes. You should have."
Mother reaches for her coffee and I switch tracks. The way you do when you realize you can choose the next scene. When you know what will happen next.
"About the merger meeting—it needs rescheduling. If we keep it today, it'll overlap with tomorrow's pack gathering. The Nightclaw Kin Alpha might consider it deliberate disrespect."
"That's…" Mother's hand paused mid-reach for her coffee, "actually correct. Richard?"
Father looked up from his tablet, surprise evident. "The girl's right. Good catch, Harper."
"Since when do you understand pack politics?" Celeste's voice held a new edge.
"Since I started paying attention." I met her gaze directly. "Things change."
A car horn blared outside—Weston, perpetually impatient. Today’s prenatal class.
"Let me walk you out." Celeste materialized at my elbow when I moved toward the door, fingers pressing against my lower back. "Those stairs can be tricky."
Oh yes. The stairs.
Twelve stone steps down to Weston's car.
I remember the fall from the fifth step that had triggered labor at eight months. Ava was born premature and struggling, giving everyone another reason to call me an unfit mother.
Celeste had cried for weeks, telling everyone how she'd been right behind me, trying to help, but couldn't catch me in time.
Today’s morning sun blinded me at the threshold as well as it already was. Celeste pressed closer, her breathing subtly quickened. Her weight shifted as we descended.
Second step. Third. Fourth.
At the fifth step, I felt her muscles coil, her hand sliding up my back.
I spun hard, grabbing the railing with both hands. "Shit, I forgot my prenatal vitamins!"
Celeste, already committed to her forward momentum, tried to stop but physics betrayed her. What should have been a controlled stumble became real as she pitched forward with a genuine shriek.
She tumbled down seven steps, her perfect dress tearing, her knee cracking against stone. The sound she made wasn't a performance—it was a shock.
"Goddess!" Weston erupted from the car. "What happened?"
"I don’t know!" I hurried down, careful and concerned. "Celeste, are you okay? Can you move?"
You better not.
My parents burst through the door as Weston helped her stand. Blood seeped through torn fabric. Her ankle swelled visibly. But it was the look she gave me that mattered—pure confusion mixed with something sharper.
Fear.
"I don't... I didn't mean..." She stammered, completely off-script.
"You need ice for that ankle." I touched her shoulder gently. "Thank Goddess you weren't the pregnant one taking that fall. Could've lost the baby."
"Harper's right." Mother supported Celeste's other side. "That could have been catastrophic."
As they helped her inside, Celeste looked back at me. For one unguarded second, her mask slipped completely.
She didn't understand what had changed. Why her plan had failed. How I'd known to turn at exactly the right moment.
"You coming or not?" Weston called from the car. "I don't have all fucking day."
There you are… How could I have even fallen in love with that asshole? Stupid.
I walked down the remaining steps slowly. "Just drive."
I settled into the passenger seat, hand protective over my belly where Ava kicked hard.
"What the hell was that about?" He pulled out aggressively, tires squealing.
"Celeste tripped." I kept my voice neutral. "Accidents happen."
"Since when are you so calm about everything?" He shot me a suspicious glance. "Usually you're crying about something by now."
"Maybe I'm tired of crying." I stared straight ahead. "Maybe things are going to change."
He snorted. "Right. You're going to change. That'll be the day."
"Watch me."
"Whatever." He accelerated through a yellow light. "Just don't embarrass me at the class. Try to be normal for fucking once."
I touched my belly where Ava moved, strong and alive.
Four years stretched ahead. Four years to save my daughter, protect my mother, and systematically destroy everyone who'd celebrated while I bled out in pack dirt.
Starting with the man beside me who'd fuck my sister while our daughter drowned.
I am young, pregnant, supposedly weak. They all saw what they expected to see. The submissive eldest daughter. The trapped future Luna. The failure is waiting to happen.
Let them look. Let them underestimate.
Celeste would spend the day searching for the glitch. She won’t guess the truth: I died in the nightmare and woke up here. I remember every move she makes in that other story.
I do not have to let her make them again.
The game hasn’t ended. It has changed rules. And if this is still a dream, then it is the kind you learn to steer.