Chapter 237

As soon as Lucy White finished removing her makeup after wrapping up filming, her phone rang. It was Rachel Johnson.

"Lucy, Michael said he's picking you up. Come straight home for dinner," Rachel's gentle voice carried a hint of excitement. "Today's a special day."

Lucy agreed and hung up, her fingers trembling slightly. She took a deep breath and pushed open the dressing room door.

Under the sunset, Michael Johnson leaned against his car, smoking. The moment he saw her, he crushed the cigarette and swiftly opened the passenger door for her.

"Waiting long?" Lucy slid into the seat, catching a faint citrus scent in the car—unfamiliar, not his usual cologne.

Michael paused while fastening his seatbelt. "Just got here." His sharp profile looked even more defined in the twilight, though the redness at the corners of his eyes betrayed exhaustion.

As the engine started, Lucy suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"You didn’t sleep last night?"

His pulse thrummed violently under her fingers. He pulled his hand back in silence, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

"Had a nightmare," he rasped, his voice raw. "You jumped from the 38th floor."

The air in the car froze.

Lucy’s pupils contracted. She knew that scene too well—in their past life, Michael had stood behind the floor-to-ceiling windows of the opposite building when she fell.

"And then?" Her voice was eerily calm.

Michael slammed on the brakes. Tires screeched against asphalt as he turned to face her.

"Then I realized it wasn’t a dream." His Adam’s apple bobbed. "It was our past life, wasn’t it?"

The last sliver of sunlight glinted off the redness in his eyes. Lucy suddenly noticed a fresh scar on his left ring finger—as if a wedding band had been violently torn away.

Her heart skipped a beat. The wound matched exactly where he’d ripped off his ring when she jumped in their past life.

"You remember everything?" she whispered.

Michael abruptly undid the top button of his shirt. A jagged scar marred his collarbone—identical to the injury he’d gotten saving her on set in their past life.

"Not just memories." He gave a bitter smile. "Even the scars came back."

Her fingers turned cold. She should’ve noticed sooner—three days ago, when he suddenly canceled all his schedules, when his gaze held something desperate whenever he looked at her.

"So now…" Her voice shook. "You’re here to atone?"

Michael leaned in suddenly, his tobacco-tinged breath brushing her ear. Lucy instinctively recoiled—only to hear a soft click as he buckled her seatbelt.

"I’m here to rewrite the ending." He restarted the car, his voice barely audible. "This time, I’ll be the one chasing you."

The radio abruptly played Rebirth. The melody made them both freeze—it was the song they’d fallen in love to in their past life.

At the red light, Michael turned to her. "Do you believe in fate?"

Lucy watched the endless stream of cars outside. In their past life, she’d seen Michael’s car speeding through this very intersection—with Lily Green in the passenger seat.

"I do." A slow smile curved her lips. "But I believe in making my own fate more."

When the light turned green, Michael abruptly U-turned—not toward the Johnson residence, but toward the winding mountain roads outside the city.

"Where are we going?" Lucy clutched the seatbelt.

"To see the stars." He pressed the accelerator. "A date I owed you last time."

Wind roared through the open windows. Lucy suddenly remembered being eighteen, when Michael had driven her like this to skip class and watch a meteor shower. Back then, he’d still called her "Lemon Drop."

"Michael Johnson." She used his full name. "If we could start over—"

"No if." He cut her off, voice firm. "This time, I choose you. Only you."

The mountaintop stars burned as bright as ever. Michael retrieved two beers from the trunk, the tabs cracking open with crisp sounds.

"To a new life." He raised his can.

Lucy didn’t take hers. Gazing at the city lights in the distance, she murmured, "Do you know what I regret most?"

Michael’s hand hovered midair.

"Not letting go sooner." She turned to him, starlight reflecting in her eyes. "So we should—"

"Too late." He suddenly upended the beer over his head, icy liquid dripping down his jaw. "The moment we woke up in this life, I signed a blood oath."

He yanked his collar aside, revealing a crimson sigil over his heart. Lucy gasped—it was the most ruthless soul-binding curse in metaphysics, tethering the caster eternally to their target.

"Are you insane?" Her voice trembled. "This curse can’t be broken!"

Michael laughed, tears glinting at his lashes. "Perfect. Now you can’t get rid of me this lifetime."

The night wind lifted his shirt, revealing a half-healed knife wound on his lower back—precisely where he’d taken a blade for her before.

Fate was a closed loop, and neither of them could escape.