Seeing the confusion on her face, the man’s expression suddenly paled. “You’re not joking? Calla… Do you even know who I am?”

“Calla? Who is she? Me?” Rosalie hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Are you… possibly Ethan?”

The man’s face twisted into shock and disbelief. “No… No way.” He stared at her, searching for some sign that this was all a prank. “You don’t recognize me? I’m Damian—your friend. Your best friend.”

“Sorry, I don’t remember,” Rosalie replied honestly.

“Calla, this isn’t funny.” His voice cracked slightly. “Okay, I give up. I’m sorry, it’s my fault.” Damian’s tone was almost desperate, as if he were clinging to the hope that she was simply teasing him.

A sharp pain pierced through Rosalie’s head, and suddenly, a flood of memories that weren’t hers poured in. She winced as flashes of a different life—her life—played out in her mind.

Damian, she thought, staring at him with wide eyes. He’s my best friend… since childhood. Even in this unfamiliar world, it seemed that she was still destined to be tied to this man.

Fragments of earlier memories surfaced. She recalled eating at a small shop with him, running towards him just before everything went black. Why had he apologized? She didn’t know, but she accepted his apology anyway.

Damian’s worried frown slowly melted into a relieved smile, and Rosalie’s heart unexpectedly skipped a beat. It felt strange—unfamiliar. I’m not used to seeing him smile like this…

Before she could react, Damian turned and offered to carry her again. “Let me give you a ride,” he said softly. Reluctantly, she climbed onto his back, feeling the strength and warmth radiating from him. As they walked, she noticed the towering, shiny buildings surrounding them—structures far taller than the grandest mansions in her world. And there were strange vehicles that moved without horses.

Damian hailed a strange carriages he called a “taxi” while still carrying her on his back. He gently helped her into the backseat, ensuring she was comfortably seated before gesturing for her to move over. Rosalie hesitated for a moment, surprised. In my world, men and women don’t share carriages unless they’re married… she thought, feeling a sense of impropriety.

But this world was different. Damian settled beside her, his presence unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.

I have to get used to this, she told herself, looking out the window at this strange new world. Whatever this place is… I have to adapt.

＊＊＊

They finally arrived at their street, and as soon as the taxi pulled up to the gate, Calla’s parents rushed out, their faces etched with worry at the sight of her condition. Throughout the entire ride, Damian couldn’t help but notice how uncharacteristically quiet Calla had been. Normally, she would have argued with him over the smallest things, raising her voice in a fiery exchange.

“It was my fault. I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence as he helped her out of the car.

Stolen novel; please report.

“No, it’s not your fault. Don’t apologize,” she replied softly, giving him a gentle smile.

Damian froze, his confusion deepening. This wasn’t like the Calla he knew. Something was different today. Yet, despite his bewilderment, a strange, unfamiliar feeling tugged at his heart, leaving him more unsettled than before.

＊＊＊

Rosalie woke up in a room that was both familiar and foreign. The walls were covered with unfamiliar posters and writings, and books were piled haphazardly on the desk. She had managed to navigate through the past few days using the memories of this body’s previous owner. She really was a carefree girl… I envy her, Rosalie thought wistfully.

Getting ready in the mornings had proven difficult—she was accustomed to being groomed by her maids. As she struggled with her hair, she sighed in frustration. I can’t even style my hair properly. Defeated, she left it as it was and headed downstairs.

In the dining room, she found a simple but homely scene. Her mother was bustling in the kitchen, while her father sat at the table, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee. The table was filled with breakfast food, not the lavish feasts she was used to, but everything looked freshly made.

“Good morning, Dad. Good morning, Mom,” she greeted them formally, giving a slight bow.

Her mother turned and, to Rosalie’s surprise, walked over and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Good morning, baby.”

Rosalie blinked, stunned by the affectionate gesture. Slowly, she took her seat at the table, gazing at the spread before her. It was a simple breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, sausages—but the sight of it made her smile. Everything was made by her… not a chef.

She picked up a fork and took a bite of the sausage. The taste, while plain, carried a warmth that she hadn’t realized she missed.

“So… are there any developments between you and Damian?” her mother asked teasingly.

Rosalie’s eyes widened as she choked on her food, coughing slightly. It was an embarrassing mistake she would never have made back in her world. Damian… The mere thought of him brought back the memory of his gentle but firm offer to carry her. She could almost feel his warmth against her back again. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Her mother’s eyes widened at her reaction, and she eagerly tapped her husband, who was still engrossed in his newspaper. “Oh my goodness! This is the first time our daughter’s reacted like this!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Her father lowered his newspaper and looked at Rosalie with newfound interest. “Hmm, good… very good. Damian’s a good guy. He’s a model student, and we know his family well.” He nodded approvingly.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes distant as he reminisced. “I remember when he helped you with that big school project a few years ago. Stayed up all night just to make sure you finished on time. And there was that time he stood up to those bullies in the neighborhood who wouldn’t leave you alone. A good kid, through and through. Always looking out for you.” He paused, then nodded to himself as if concluding a well-reasoned argument. “He’ll make an excellent son-in-law.”

Rosalie flushed with embarrassment at the thought of being paired up with Damian. Yet, strangely, it didn’t feel as stifling as the engagements and alliances she had been a part of in her own world. There, every interaction felt cold, calculated—another chess piece moved by her family. This… felt different. Less constricting. Almost comfortable.

Her mother leaned in with a mischievous smile. “So, tell us, how do you feel about him? You’ve known each other since childhood, after all.”

“I…” Rosalie hesitated. What was she supposed to say? That she didn’t know how to feel? That this Damian was completely different from the one she knew? “I think he’s… very kind.”

“Kind, is he?” her father murmured, clearly amused by her reaction. “Well, kindness is the first step to affection, and affection leads to love.” He leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “Just know that we support you, whatever path you choose.”

Rosalie’s heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. The freedom to choose… It was something she had never been granted in her world. Every decision had been made for her—who to speak to, where to go, whom to marry.

So this is what a normal family looks like? she thought, a small smile forming on her lips.