FLAME OF THE PAST

The smell of gasoline clung to the air like an omen.

Jazlyn Celeste Mercado stood in the middle of her parents’ old warehouse, wrists bound, hair sticking to her face. The only light came from the fire flickering in the oil drum a few feet away, its glow painting cruel halos on the faces of the two people she had once loved more than anyone else.

Her husband, Adrian Navarro, leaned casually against a pillar, sleeves rolled up as if this were just another business meeting.

And beside him, with a smile sharp enough to draw blood, stood her best friend — Camille Reyes.

It was strange, Jazlyn thought, how betrayal could feel both heavy and hollow at once.

Camille’s laughter broke the silence. “You know, Jazlyn, I always wondered what it would take for you to stop pretending you’re better than everyone else. Guess now I know. Fire suits you — it strips away the lies.”

Jazlyn’s voice cracked. “What are you doing, Camille? What is this?”

“What we should have done a long time ago,” Adrian said flatly. His dark eyes were unreadable, his tone almost bored. “You’ve had everything — the company, the legacy, the sympathy. You were born Mercado. You never earned it. Some of us had to claw our way up.”

Jazlyn blinked hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. “Mercado Corporation is mine by right—my father trusted me to lead it.”

Adrian smiled thinly. “Your father trusted too easily. And your mother—” he glanced toward Camille— “she trusted her friends too much.”

Camille tilted her head, that same mocking glimmer in her eyes. “You always asked me how your parents died, remember? You wanted to know who caused that crash.”

Jazlyn’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

Camille leaned closer until Jazlyn could smell the faint trace of her perfume. “It wasn’t an accident, sweetheart. It was us.”

The world seemed to tilt. Jazlyn’s knees nearly buckled, but the ropes kept her upright. “You… you’re lying.”

Adrian’s chuckle was soft, merciless. “She’s not.”

Tears blurred Jazlyn’s vision. “Why? They were good people. They treated you like family, Camille!”

“Exactly,” Camille whispered, her voice venom wrapped in velvet. “They trusted me enough to hand me documents, signatures… passwords. We took what we needed. Their deaths were unfortunate—” she shrugged “—but necessary.”

“You murdered them,” Jazlyn said, each word trembling. “All for what? Money?”

“For survival,” Adrian said coldly. “You had everything. We had nothing. And when you married me, you sealed your fate. All we had to do was wait for you to hand the company over—and you did.”

The fire crackled louder, sparks leaping like angry ghosts.

Jazlyn’s tears turned to fury. “You won’t get away with this.”

Camille smirked. “Oh, darling. We already have.”

Adrian took a step closer, pulling a small silver lighter from his pocket. He flipped it open and shut, the spark flashing in his eyes.

“I’ll make it quick,” he said quietly. “You deserve that much.”

“No—please—” Jazlyn’s voice broke, desperation slicing through her pride. “Adrian, I loved you—”

“That was your first mistake,” he said, and flicked the lighter.

The gasoline caught instantly. Flames roared to life around the walls, devouring the old wood, the boxes, the air. The heat surged, wild and hungry. Jazlyn screamed as the fire crawled closer, licking at the hem of her dress.

Camille stepped back toward the door. “Goodbye, Jazlyn. Say hello to your perfect parents for me.”

They turned and walked away, leaving her to the inferno.

Jazlyn fought against the ropes until her wrists bled, the heat biting at her skin. The air grew thin, thick with smoke. Her throat burned. No… not like this. She thought of her father’s smile, her mother’s gentle laugh. I can’t die here.

A crash echoed through the roar of the fire. The metal door burst open — and through the smoke, a figure appeared.

“Jazlyn!” a man’s voice shouted.

She coughed, eyes straining through the haze. He was tall, his white shirt streaked with soot, eyes sharp with urgency. She recognized him vaguely — Sebastian Valente, the elusive heir of Valente Industries, known to everyone in the business world as untouchable, ruthless, and untamed. In her old life, he had always watched her from afar during corporate events, silent and distant.

“What are you doing here?” she rasped, choking on smoke.

“I followed them,” he said, rushing forward. “They were acting strange. I knew something was wrong.”

He cut the ropes with a shard of glass and pulled her up. “Come on, we have to go!”

The ceiling groaned above them. Flames licked the walls. Sebastian wrapped his arm around her waist, guiding her toward the door. The air shimmered with heat; every breath hurt.

Then — an explosion.

The floor trembled. A metal beam fell, blocking the exit. Sebastian shoved Jazlyn out of the way, his arm shielding her. She felt the blast ripple through her body, saw the orange bloom of fire rush toward them.

“Go!” he shouted.

“I can’t—Sebastian!” she screamed.

He tried to lift the beam, straining, coughing. “Move, Jazlyn!”

But the flames surged again, a wave of unbearable heat. Sebastian grabbed her hand — and for an instant, she saw his eyes, fierce and desperate.

“I won’t let you die here!” he shouted.

The fire roared higher, swallowing the sound of his voice. Pain seared through her body. The smoke choked her.

Her last memory was of Sebastian’s silhouette disappearing in the light — and her own voice whispering through the chaos:

“Next time… I’ll change everything.”

Then the world went dark.

---

Silence.

A bird chirped somewhere.

Jazlyn gasped and sat upright, heart pounding. Her skin was damp with sweat, her lungs still aching as if filled with smoke. But there was no fire, no heat — only the cool touch of morning air.

She blinked. Around her was a familiar room — her room. Soft pastel curtains, a desk covered in books, the faint scent of lavender.

She knew this place. She hadn’t seen it in years. Not since college.

Slowly, she got out of bed. Her knees trembled. On the wall hung a calendar — the date made her blood freeze.

March 2, 2020.

Her last memory had been five years later — 2025, the night she died.

Jazlyn’s hand flew to her mouth. “No way…” she whispered. “I’m back?”

She stumbled toward the mirror. Her reflection stared back — younger, her face unscarred, her eyes bright and whole. Her hands were smooth, no burns, no rope marks.

She pressed her palms against her face, trying to make sense of it. I’m alive. I’m really alive.

A sob escaped her throat — part laughter, part disbelief. “Five years ago… before everything.”

She rushed to her desk and found her phone, the old model she’d used in college. The screen flickered to life, showing notifications, messages from classmates. The timestamp confirmed it — 2020.

Tears blurred her vision. Her parents… they were still alive.

Her legs moved before her mind could catch up. She flung the door open and ran down the hallway. The scent of brewed coffee and fresh bread met her halfway down the stairs.

She heard voices — her mother’s gentle tone, her father’s laugh. It was like hearing ghosts breathe again.

“Mom?” Jazlyn called, voice shaking.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Mercado turned, spatula in hand. She was exactly as Jazlyn remembered — soft brown hair, warm eyes, the kind of beauty time never touched.

But instead of the tearful reunion Jazlyn imagined, her mother frowned.

“Jazlyn Celeste Mercado! Look at the time!” she scolded, tapping her watch. “You’re going to be late for your morning class again!”

Jazlyn froze. “What?”

Her mother sighed, exasperated. “You stayed up too late studying, didn’t you? Go wash up! Breakfast is ready!”

Her father peeked from behind his newspaper, chuckling. “Give her a break, love. It’s only the first week of the semester.”

Her mother swatted at him playfully, then turned back to the stove.

Jazlyn stood in the doorway, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. They’re here. They’re alive.

Her mother frowned again. “Why are you crying now? Did something happen?”

Jazlyn shook her head quickly and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist. “I just— I missed you, Mom.”

Mrs. Mercado laughed, startled. “Missed me? Jazlyn, I saw you last night!”

“I know,” Jazlyn whispered, voice trembling. “I just love you, that’s all.”

Her mother softened, stroking her hair. “I love you too, sweetheart. Now eat, before it gets cold.”

Jazlyn sat down, staring at the familiar breakfast — eggs, rice, and hot chocolate, just like before. Her father ruffled her hair affectionately. “Still half-asleep, huh? That’s my girl.”

She smiled through tears. “You have no idea.”

As they talked, Jazlyn couldn’t help glancing around — every detail was exactly as she remembered. The clock ticking above the door. The sunlight spilling across the table. The sound of her mother humming.

Her chest tightened with gratitude and guilt. I was given another chance. I won’t waste it this time.

She thought of Adrian — the man who would soon betray her — and Camille, the friend who would destroy her family. The fire. The lies. The pain.

Her fists clenched under the table. Not again.

But amid that determination, one face lingered in her mind — Sebastian Valente, stepping into the flames to save her. His voice calling her name through the smoke.

She remembered the look in his eyes — not pity, not duty, but something fierce and selfless. He hadn’t owed her anything, yet he came for her.

Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. He tried to save me.

She glanced out the window, where the city stretched beneath a soft morning haze. Somewhere out there, Sebastian was alive too — untouched by her tragedy, unaware that she remembered everything.

A small smile curved her lips. “This time,” she whispered to herself, “I’ll see him. I’ll thank him. And maybe… I’ll finally understand what I never saw before.”

Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Jazlyn! You’re going to miss your class!”

She blinked, startled, and grabbed her bag. “Right! Sorry!”

As she hurried to the door, her father called after her, “Don’t forget your lunch!”

“I won’t!” she said, waving with a laugh.

The door closed behind her, and she stepped into the crisp air of 2020 — alive, reborn, and ready to rewrite her story. The sunlight touched her face, warm and golden.

Five years.

Five years before the betrayal, before the fire, before her death.

This time, Jazlyn Celeste Mercado would not be the woman who lost everything.

This time, she would save what mattered — and protect the ones she loved.

And somewhere, in the sprawling city skyline, a man named Sebastian Valente went about his day, unaware that fate had just reset the game —

and that the girl he once failed to save was coming back into his life, not as a victim…

but as destiny’s second chance.

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