A Second Sunrise

cream-colored accent of the well-polished walls gleamed with quiet delight, reflecting the soft morning light that streamed in through pristine white curtains. That gentle glow bathed the room in warmth, spreading across every surface like a lover’s touch. The space was awash in soft hues of cream and beige—two colors that seemed to battle for dominance, and yet somehow managed to complement one another in perfect harmony.

Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Still.

At the center of the room stood a singular, elegant canopy bed, immediately drawing the eye and commanding reverence like a throne. Upon closer inspection, the delicate carvings on its frame suggested it belonged in a palace—an heirloom, perhaps, or a national treasure. Intricate vines and roses curled along its frame, each blossom lovingly chiseled into the wood. Drapes of soft gauze hung like clouds from the posts, offering a sense of dreamy enclosure.

Nestled within its embrace lay a form that seemed sculpted by the divine. Her skin, like milk kissed by moonlight, peeked from beneath silk pajamas and was further cradled by cotton bedding that looked too pure to touch. Her snow-white hair spilled across the pillow in soft, tangled waves, forming a luminous halo around her head—as though the bed cradled not a girl, but something ethereal, something unearthly.

Her features were refined, poised. A heart-shaped bow defined her lips, while thick, dark lashes fanned over cheeks dusted with tiny freckles that sat like whispered constellations beneath her eyes. It didn’t detract from her beauty—it enhanced it. Gave her a wild, uncatchable quality. She looked like a dream you’d wake up mourning.

Then—

The figure stirred.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, barely audible above the hush of the morning. Slowly, almost cautiously, she pushed herself upright. Her long, platinum-blonde hair tumbled down her back like a waterfall, catching the light with every movement. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing irises of pale gray—soft, piercing, curious. She blinked, eyes sweeping the room with cautious wonder.

“…Where… am I?” she murmured groggily, her voice thick with sleep. There was a vulnerability to it—like something raw, newly born.

She rubbed at her eyes, squinting as though the golden light offended her, and looked down at her arms. Her breath caught.

What the hell?

Her skin, which had once held a caramel warmth, now looked like snow tinged with sunlight. She blinked in disbelief, hands trembling as she brought them closer to her face. Her fingers looked too slender. Her wrists, delicate. They weren’t hers. Not really.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered. “This—this isn’t me.”

Am I dreaming?

She threw the covers aside and slid from the bed, bare feet meeting the plush cream carpet with a muted thump. It was soft—softer than anything she’d ever stepped on. The room around her was foreign, opulent, unreal. It looked like something pulled straight from a fairy tale—a princess's chamber. The bed, the sheer curtains, the ornate vanity cluttered with beauty products and crystal perfume bottles—it all shimmered with delicate luxury.

She walked toward the mirror on the wall, her steps slow and hesitant. Each movement felt like trespassing, like she might shatter the dream if she breathed too loudly.

And then—she saw her reflection.

She stumbled back.

A stranger stared at her.

Her lips parted as if to scream, but no sound came. Pale, luminous skin. White hair. Pale gray eyes framed with lashes thick and long. Who—what—was she?

“What is this? Whose body is this?” she whispered again, as though repeating it would force the world to make sense. “Why do I look like this?”

She grasped at the vanity, needing something solid beneath her hands. Her heart raced, thundering wildly in her chest like a drum echoing through empty halls. This has to be a dream. Or a coma. Or…

And then—

A rush of memory slammed into her like a cruel wave.

---

She was standing in a taxi line, suitcase in hand, her shoulders heavy from the journey home. Her skin had glowed with warmth then, sun-kissed from a work trip. Her lips curled into a smile, giddy and aching with anticipation. She was going to surprise him. Her fiancé. Her person. The man she was going to build a life with.

She imagined his face when she walked in. The smile that tugged at his lips when he was caught off guard. The warmth of his embrace, the slightly-too-long kisses he always gave when they’d been apart.

She was glowing. Hopeful. Radiant with love.

The key turned in the lock.

She kicked off her shoes quietly, already grinning to herself. She crept down the hallway like a thief, suitcase trailing behind her, and made her way to the bedroom.