Elysium: Desired by the Cold-hearted Princess [GL]
Chapter 196 196: Back to reality

Electra's POV

As soon as I ended the call with Seraphina, I dropped my phone back on the bathroom counter, my fingers trembling slightly as I exhaled a shaky breath. I leaned forward, gripping the edges of the sink, and forced myself to look at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes were bloodshot, swollen from all the crying I had done over the last half hour. The dark circles beneath them made me look exhausted—broken.

It was a sight I wasn't used to seeing. I wasn't someone who cried often, but tonight had been different. Everything I had seen, everything I had experienced in that strange, twisted version of reality, had caught up with me the moment I had opened my eyes in my own bed.

And so, I had cried.

I had cried for my mother. My real mother, who I had the pleasure of seeing for the first time ever. Despite how furious I was at the universe for throwing me around, I was thankful that I had the chance to meet my mother.

I finally understood why I reminded my current parents of her, and for the first time in my life, I truly felt the loss of never getting to know her.

I had also cried for my friends because I had watched them mourn me, seen the way Irina had thrown a punch at a girl for speaking ill of me, the way Roxana had curled up in bed, refusing to eat, and the way Penelope had tried so hard to keep everything together.

I had seen how much I meant to them—how much my death had torn them apart.

And I had cried for myself. Because now, I knew the truth. I had seen my own funeral. I had heard my friends talk about my body burning on its own. I had come to realize that someone had betrayed me, and yet, I was back—alive, in my own bed, as if none of it had ever happened.

But I knew it would eventually happen, so I had to remember everything.

The feeling of it all had been suffocating, but Seraphina's call had given me a moment to push it aside. Now that I was alone again, I needed to snap myself out of my frustration. I couldn't sit here and break down again.

Taking another shaky breath, I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face, letting the chill shock my senses. I needed to ground myself, and I needed to remind myself that I was here and that I was alive.

After a few moments, I straightened up, grabbed a towel, and dried my face. My hands still shook slightly, but I forced myself to keep moving, to go through the motions as if that would somehow make everything feel normal again.

But nothing felt normal.

I picked up my phone from the counter and walked out of the bathroom, stepping into the comfort of my bedroom. The moment I climbed into bed, pulling the covers over me, I felt the guilt settle in my chest.

I had lied to Seraphina.

I had pretended like I didn't remember any of it.

I had feigned confusion, acted like she was talking nonsense, and then hung up on her as if she was the crazy one.

But she wasn't crazy, and I knew that.

I clutched my phone against my chest, staring up at the ceiling, my heart heavy with guilt.

Seraphina deserved to know the truth. She was the only other person who had experienced this with me. The only one who could possibly understand what I was going through, and yet, when she had called, desperate for confirmation that she wasn't alone in remembering, I had shut her down.

Why did I do that?

I had told myself it was because I needed time to process everything. That I wasn't ready to talk about it, but the truth was, I was scared.

Because if I admitted to Seraphina that I remembered everything, that meant I would have to face it.

Face the fact that I had seen my own death.

Face the fact that someone I trusted had betrayed me.

Face the fact that none of this was over, and more importantly, I'd also have to face Seraphina's feelings and mine, and right now, I couldn't bring myself to allow those feelings to amount to anything.

I closed my eyes, gripping the phone tighter.

I should call her back.

I should tell her that I lied. That I do remember. That I know something bigger is going on, something we don't yet understand, and tell her how scared I was to be back, but I didn't.

Instead, I lay there, staring into the darkness of my room, letting the silence swallow me whole.

Because even though I wanted to tell her the truth, I wasn't ready to say the words out loud.

Not yet.

***

I woke up slowly, blinking against the morning light streaming through my bedroom window. For a few seconds, I just lay there, unmoving, and then, as I took a deep breath and glanced around my room, the realization hit me—I was still here. In my own bed, and in my own life.

I let out a long exhale, feeling relieved.

The last thing I had wanted was to fall asleep and wake up somewhere else. Back in Seraphina's life. Back in that black-and-white dreamscape. Back in the nightmare of my own funeral. I had spent enough time being tossed between different realities, and for once, I just wanted to exist in the present.

Sitting up, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. I wasn't sure what time it was, but judging by the sun, I had probably slept in later than usual. Not that I cared—I deserved the extra sleep after everything I had been through.

If it were up to me, I would spend the entire day in bed, buried under my blankets, making up for all the time I had lost to dream-hopping, time-traveling, and whatever the hell else had been happening to me, but I knew better than that.

I had to move. I had to act.

Because now, I knew something I wasn't supposed to know—I was going to die, and if I wanted to prevent that from happening, I couldn't afford to sit still.

As I unlocked my phone, I expected to see the usual flood of notifications—messages from Irina or Roxana, school announcements, or pointless royal updates—but instead, my eyes immediately landed on a message that sent a chill down my spine.

It was from my father.

King Vale: Come to the palace immediately. It's an emergency.

No context. No explanation. Just an order.

My heart started to pound. My father never texted me. Ever. If he wanted to summon me to the palace, he would usually send a royal attendant or have someone call. So the fact that he had sent me a direct message—one that was short and urgent—meant that something was very, very wrong.