When I heard Sophia's voice, my heart raced. A familiar sense of fear crept up my spine. I knew I had started over and was now five years in the past, but the memory of my death in that alley still haunted me.

I felt a mix of worry, fear... and excitement.

Yes, excitement.

For once, I was in control.

"Elena, are you home?" Sophia's voice was soft, almost too gentle. "I brought you some food. I made it myself."

I took a deep, steadying breath.

What was I supposed to say when I opened the door?

Right—be gentle with her, treat her like a good friend. That's what I did in my last life.

But...

I died at her hands.

She was my enemy.

"Not going to open the door?" Ethan's voice pulled me from my thoughts. His tone was gentle, but his gaze was sharp, studying me. "What's on your mind this time?"

I shuddered despite myself, a thin layer of sweat forming on my palms.

"No, I was just thinking... it might be more fun for the two of us to spend the holiday together. Just us."

I took another breath, forcing a smile, and got up to open the door.

Sophia let out a soft laugh the moment she saw me.

"It's cold out here."

"Come in."

"I almost thought you didn't want to let me in."

I stiffened.

Sophia looked as soft and lovely as ever, but there was something hidden beneath her calm tone—a quiet malice.

"What makes you think that?" I said lightly. "In fact, we weren't expecting company tonight."

"I'm just kidding," she giggled. "I know I'm intruding."

A gust of cold wind followed her inside, making her white dress flutter. Before I could say anything else, she had already turned her attention to Ethan.

"Hi, Ethan! It's been so long!" Her voice was warm, sweet. "Am I interrupting something?"

Ethan didn't answer.

"What, not talking because you're mad?" She pouted playfully.

Still, Ethan remained silent.

"As an apology," she continued, "I brought you something special—your favorite venison. The freshest steak I could find. I went to the market myself to buy it."

She set the dish on the table with deliberate care. The meat was fresh—too fresh. The edges were slightly charred, but the scent of blood was unmistakable.

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I watched her closely. There was something almost eager in the way she moved, a lightness in her step that I had never noticed before.

Why hadn't I seen these details in my past life?

I glanced at Ethan. His demeanor shifted the moment Sophia placed the steak in front of him.

He loved it.

Too much.

He was a werewolf.

And that bloody meat—still glistening, still dripping—was that really venison?

I swallowed the uneasy feeling crawling up my throat.

"You should buy more venison for Ethan," Sophia said, turning to me with a knowing smile.

Her eyes gleamed with something smug.

"Don't blame me for saying too much. I'm just looking out for you."

...

In the past, whenever he was with me, the steak was always medium rare.Were they trying to test me?

"Ethan doesn't like his steak too rare; he prefers it medium rare."

I acted as if I hadn't noticed anything and walked over to the table. "Bring it over. I'll fry it."

The moment I spoke, I felt the disdain in Sophia's gaze. It was the kind of look an Italian might give someone ruining their pasta—mocking, condescending.

I pretended not to see it.

I had to pretend not to see it.

With their eyes on me, I made my way to the kitchen and started frying the meat. The sizzling sound and the rich aroma filled the air, numbing my senses.

I focused on cooking, trying to steady my nerves. The tension in the room weighed on me, yet somehow, the simple act of frying the steak brought me a strange sense of calm.

"Rosemary... Where did I put the rosemary?"

I searched the counter, then the spice rack, but couldn't find it. Just as I turned to check the cabinet outside, I froze.

My breath caught in my throat.

A massive shadow loomed beyond the doorway.

It had the unmistakable shape of a wolf.

Its claws twitched in the flickering light, casting an eerie, sinister silhouette.

Oh my God.

A chill ran down my spine.

That shadow—that form—it was exactly the same as the one I saw five years ago, the night I died.

Sophia's werewolf form.

What the hell is going on?

Wasn't it supposed to be five years before she revealed her true nature?

Panic surged in my veins. My mind screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn't obey. My hands clenched involuntarily, my fingertips turning pale.

Stay calm, Elena. You have to stay calm.

I repeated the words in my head, forcing myself to breathe.

Ethan and Sophia—what did this mean? Were they trying to expose me? Had they already figured me out?

No. That didn't make sense.

Then—

"Sophia, you've gone too far," Ethan's voice cut through the tension, low and laced with impatience.

In an instant, the massive shadow disappeared.

Sophia let out a frustrated scoff.

"Ethan!" Sophia's voice sharpened, a crack forming in her usually sweet facade. "Don't tell me you forgot—I'm your fiancée!"

"I'm your fiancée!！！"

Gone was the soft, sickeningly sweet voice she used in the past. The warmth, the fake friendliness—it had all vanished.

This was the real Sophia.

Cold. Ruthless. The same tone she had used when she murdered me in my previous life.

Now, there was only thinly veiled disgust in her voice.

"She's just a human! A game! You're not seriously falling for her, are you?"

"Shut up."

Ethan's reply was calm, almost lazy, yet there was an undeniable edge to it. "If she hears you, you know the consequences."

His tone was detached. Uncaring.

Even with just a wall between us, I could feel the weight of his presence.

Was this really my husband, Ethan? The man I once dismissed as insignificant?

Maybe... Maybe I never truly knew him at all.

My pulse quickened.

Sophia's voice dripped with anger. "You're protecting her? Her? She's nothing but a plaything!"

She let out a sharp breath before continuing, "Didn't we agree—"

"Shut. Up."Ethan's voice was low, dangerous.

"Even if she is just a plaything," he said, "she's my plaything."

Ethan spoke in a warning tone.

Sophia seemed upset, and she said quietly, "It's been three years, haven't you had enough yet?

She's just a muggle! You don't really take her as your wife, do you?"

Ethan didn't respond.

Ethan didn't answer him. He didn't know if he had been hit on the head or if he didn't care.