Reborn: This Time I Won't Be His Fiancée novel · Chapter 1 of 12
Chapter 1: Again
I woke up with the taste of blood in my mouth and the sound of my own body hitting the tiles.
I sat up with a jolt, my hands on my chest.
I was in my room in Chapinero, with the yellow curtains and the March light on the bed.
There was no terrace, no broken glass, no one standing in the doorway watching me.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and turned it on with trembling fingers.
It was Saturday, March twenty-second.
I was twenty-four years old again.
In the life that had just ended, I had died at twenty-seven, the night before my wedding, on the terrace of an estate in La Calera.
I remembered it all, without anyone asking me to.
Mariangel Pombo had pushed me, and the glass railing had opened like a door.
I fell onto the garden stones with my leg bent backward.
From below I saw Alvar standing above, in the doorway.
I asked him to call an ambulance.
He looked at Mariangel, who was crying with her hands over her face.
"Later," he said. "She's not well."
That was the last word I ever heard from him.
I stayed in bed for a long minute, breathing.
Today was the engagement party, at the same estate.
That night, my dad was going to toast with Inmaculada Marulanda, and I was going to receive a ring from the hands of a man who didn't love me.
I got up.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I saw a woman with big eyes who still believed in people.
"No," I told her.
I got dressed calmly.
I chose a dark green sleeveless dress that my mom had said made me look serious.
At eight o'clock at night I entered the estate on my dad's arm.
There were three hundred guests, a string quartet, and an arch of white roses in the hall.
Inmaculada greeted me at the door with two air kisses.
"Viviana, dear. You look gorgeous."
"Thank you, Doña Inmaculada."
She had her perfect silver bob and the usual pearls.
Her smile was designed for the photos.
Behind her, next to the table with the glasses, I saw Mariangel in a pale pink dress.
She waved at me, as if we were friends.
I felt my stomach drop.
I swallowed and waved back.
"Easy," my dad murmured. "You're freezing."
"I'm fine, Dad."
Alvar came down the main staircase at nine.
He wore a black suit and his short hair was combed back, and he was carrying a velvet box in his hand.
I had known him since I was twenty, and in the past life I had loved him with everything I had.
When he saw me, he stopped on the last step.
His gray eyes were wide open.
He stood looking at me for a second too long.
Then he came toward me, and the people formed a circle.
Inmaculada took the microphone.
"Dear friends, tonight we celebrate the union of two families."
There was applause.
My dad raised his glass, proud.
Alvar stood in front of me and opened the box.
Inside was an antique diamond ring that had belonged to the Marulanda grandmother.
"Viviana," he said, and his voice came out strange. "Will you..."
"No."
The room went still.
I heard myself, clear, as if another person were speaking.
"I don't want to marry you, Alvar. Not tonight, not ever."
A murmur ran through the tables.
Someone let out a nervous giggle and then stopped.
My dad looked at me with his glass halfway up.
"Vivi."
"Forgive me, Dad. I'll explain later."
Inmaculada came closer with a rigid smile.
"Dear, you're nervous. Let's talk in private."
"That won't be necessary, Doña Inmaculada."
I raised my voice so the whole room could hear me.
"This union isn't about two families. It's a stock deal, and my dad's export company is not for sale."
A long gasp was heard.
Someone dropped a glass.
Inmaculada went white beneath her makeup.
"You're talking nonsense."
"I'm talking about what my grandparents signed at a notary. A lawyer will read it tomorrow."
Mariangel stepped forward with teary eyes.
"Vivi, don't be cruel to Alvar, please."
I looked at her.
She had the same pained expression she'd worn on the terrace.
"Don't call me Vivi," I said. "Not you."
She blinked, and for the first time she didn't know what face to put on.
I took off my heels, left them on the marble floor, and walked toward the exit.
No one stopped me.
The guests parted to let me through, their phones held high.
Alvar caught up with me in the foyer.
He took me by the wrist, gently, without squeezing.
He was pale, and his mouth was trembling.
"Don't do this to me again," he whispered.
I froze in the cold air by the door.
I hadn't told him anything about the terrace.
No one knew, except me.
And him.
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