Chapter 1: Burned by Family, Reborn by Fire

After I tried to talk my cousin out of that beauty-products warehouse job, the smell of frying oil hit me and the kitchen light glared off the counter. He waved his phone, eyes bright, and said,

"I already told you—the warehouse line pays three grand a month, and I could date five girls in three days!"

He flashed a grin like he'd just found some genius hack online. The phone showed a blurry selfie of him outside the warehouse, as if that proved anything.

His tone was all bravado, but I could hear the insecurity underneath—honestly, it was almost like he was daring me to say he couldn't pull it off.

"It's your fault I can't get a girlfriend—this is all on you!" he practically shouted, his voice pitching up.

He jabbed a finger at me, half-laughing, half-serious. He wasn't really kidding. The way he said it, you’d think I’d personally cursed his love life. There was this weird, almost desperate edge to his voice, like he believed it for real.

My aunt saw the whole thing and just lost it. She got in my face, finger wagging, cussing me out, completely forgetting she was the one who'd begged me to talk to my cousin in the first place. I could practically feel my jaw clenching—here we go again.

She didn't hold back, either. Her voice shot up an octave, shrill and sharp, echoing off the kitchen tiles. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't gotten in my boy's way, I'd be holding a grandbaby by now!" The word "grandbaby" rang out like an accusation all its own.

"You're just jealous my son's got a good job! You just don't want him to go!"

Her face twisted with frustration, and for a second, she looked ten years older. The smell of frying oil hung in the air. She was so riled up, she didn't even seem to notice the spatula still clutched in her hand, grease popping in the skillet behind her.

For a split second, everything slowed. In a blind rage, she grabbed the pot of hot oil she'd just heated and dumped it over my head. My brain barely registered—was she really going to—before the world exploded.

The world went white-hot. It was like being caught in a lightning storm—pain everywhere. Sizzling. The smell of burnt hair and skin, sharp in my nose. I barely had time to scream before everything faded.

Right then, I saw my great-grandma in the afterlife.

I could almost hear her voice, warm and teasing, the way she'd call me "sugar" and tell me to mind my manners. She always called me that. But there was no comfort in it—just the echo of loss, and the shock of everything ending so fast.

Sunlight hit my face. I blinked. Somehow, I was back. When I opened my eyes, it was the very day my cousin said he wanted to work at the warehouse.

The sun was streaming through the kitchen window, catching the dust motes in the air. I could smell coffee, burnt toast, the faint tang of nail polish remover—Marlene's signature scent. Déjà vu hit me hard. It was like waking up in someone else's life, except it was all mine, all over again.

"Eli, your cousin says he wants to work at some beauty products warehouse," Marlene called, her voice floating over from the stove.

Her voice was familiar. A little nasal, a little tired... like she'd been up all night worrying. The kitchen table was cluttered with job ads, half-filled mugs, and a stack of unopened mail. It felt achingly normal.

"I don't know much. I've never had a real job, so I have no idea if that place is any good."

She shrugged, glancing at me over her glasses, like she was hoping I'd have the answers she never did. That look always got to me. There was a flicker of hope in her eyes, mixed with the old, worn-out worry lines.

I jolted back to reality, staring blankly at Marlene's face.

It took me a second to remember where—or when—I was. Her face looked softer, less lined than I remembered, her hair tucked back with a pink barrette. For a moment, I wondered if this was really happening, or just some cruel trick of my mind. Was I really here?

I shot to my feet.

My chair scraped loud against the linoleum, making Marlene flinch. My heart hammered in my chest, sweat breaking out on my forehead. It was like the pain of that oil still lingered. Ghostly and raw.

The image of her pouring hot oil on me was still burned in my memory. I could almost feel my skin sizzling. The sting was still there, deep down.

I touched my scalp, half-expecting to feel blisters. But everything was smooth, untouched. Was this real? I let out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to bolt for the door.

I was on the verge of freaking out when I noticed something weird.

The Marlene in front of me had straight hair. But when she poured oil on me, her hair had been curly and dyed reddish-brown. Wait—what?

That detail hit me like a punch. I remembered the way the dye caught the light, the way she’d fussed with her curls, complaining about the humidity. Now her hair was flat, a dull chestnut. No hint of red at all.

I glanced up at the digital clock on the wall. Her words echoed in my head.

The clock read 7:42 AM. The same time as before everything went wrong. The second hand ticked forward, steady and relentless. I felt a chill run down my spine.

I'd been reborn! No other explanation made sense.

The thought hit me like cold water. All the memories. All the arguments. All the pain—they were still there, but now I had a second chance. My hands shook as I gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady myself.

When Marlene saw me stand up, her face lit up, brightening as if she’d just won a prize. She grinned, her eyes flicking over to me, and said,

Her smile was wide. Almost too bright, like she was putting on a show for someone. I could see right through it, but she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Oh, I knew it—our Eli always looks out for his cousin."

She gave me a little wink, like we were in on some secret together. I felt a prickle of discomfort. The kitchen felt smaller, the air thick with expectation.

"Your aunt may not have much schooling, but even I can tell that warehouse seems sketchy."

She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "Not like you—you've got a master's, a good job, you've been places. With you stepping in, I'm sure you can talk some sense into Tyler!"

Her words were syrupy, but her eyes were sharp—always measuring, always calculating. I could see the gears turning. She was already planning how to nudge me into doing what she wanted.

"If you could swing it so he gets an office job, that'd be perfect!"

She kept smiling, talking nonstop. Her hooded eyes glinted with shrewd calculation.

I remembered that look all too well. It was the same one she’d given me last time, when she buttered me up before dropping a mountain of responsibility in my lap. Ha. Some things never changed.

She'd done the same thing in my last life—sweet-talking me while bossing me around. Classic Marlene.

I could practically hear her voice echoing from the past. The way she’d say, “You’re the only one I trust, Eli.” I let out a silent sigh. It was always a setup, always a trap disguised as a compliment.