After I Returned The Real Heiress Everyone Regretted Letting Me Go

Pain. That was the first thing Katherine expected.

The screech of tires, the violent impact, the feeling of her body slamming against cold asphalt-it all remained so vivid that when consciousness returned, she instinctively braced herself for agony. Her hands flew to her chest, her ribs, her stomach, searching for shattered bones and blood-soaked bandages.

There was nothing. Not a single injury.

Her breathing quickened. She pushed herself upright so abruptly that the blanket slipped onto her lap. Apart from a lingering weakness in her limbs, her body felt... normal.

The room around her was quiet, washed in soft morning light. A small hospital room. White curtains swayed gently beside an open window, carrying the scent of fresh rain instead of disinfectant and blood. The steady beeping of a heart monitor filled the silence.

Before she could make sense of any of it, the door opened. "Oh, you're awake!"

A nurse hurried inside with a relieved smile.

"You gave everyone quite a scare. Your fever finally broke."

Fever? Katherine stared at her blankly.

The nurse walked over to check the monitor before continuing casually, "You've been unconscious for an entire day. Your mother has been calling every few hours asking for updates. I suppose she'll finally be able to sleep tonight."

Katherine frowned. "I'm sorry... what did you just say?"

The nurse looked puzzled. "Your fever."

"No." Katherine shook her head. "Before that."

"You've been unconscious?"

"No." She gripped the blanket tighter. "I was hit by a car."

The cheerful atmosphere inside the room disappeared.

The nurse's smile faltered slightly. "...Excuse me?"

"A car or truck..." Katherine said, her voice becoming more urgent. "I remember the accident. I remember the headlights. I remember..." Her breathing became uneven. "Where's the surgeon? Was anyone else hurt? How long have I been here?"

The nurse didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pressed the call button beside the bed.

Within minutes, a doctor entered the room, followed by another nurse. They examined her thoroughly.

They asked gentle questions. What was her name? Did she know where she was?

What day did she think it was?

Every answer she gave only made their expressions grow more concerned.

"There are no signs of physical trauma," the doctor finally said carefully. "Miss Hart, you were admitted because of a severe viral fever. You've never undergone surgery."

"That's impossible."

"It is what's recorded."

"I was hit by a car."

"There are no police reports."

"My family..."

"Your Friend brought you here. Your fever wouldn't come down." Katherine looked from one face to another, desperately searching for someone who would admit this was a misunderstanding.

No one did. Eventually, the doctor suggested she rest and quietly led the nurses outside, closing the door behind them.

Silence swallowed the room. Katherine sat motionless, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her eyes wandered across the bedside table.

A phone rested beside a glass of water. She reached for it almost absentmindedly. The device felt strangely familiar. Too familiar. When the screen lit up, her fingers froze.

It wasn't her current wallpaper. It was the old photograph she had used years ago before changing it after graduation.

Her throat tightened. She tried to unlock the phone; the passcode didn't work, and then she tried her old passcode, and the phone was unlocked.

Every message was old. Every contact list belonged to another version of her life. Conversations she had forgotten existed filled the screen.

People she hadn't spoken to in years were still chatting as though nothing had happened. Her pulse quickened.

"This..." She opened her social media accounts.

Old profile pictures. Old posts. Even unfinished university assignments still waited in her drafts.

Her breathing became shallow. "No..."

The phone suddenly vibrated in her hand.

**Mom Calling. **Her heart nearly stopped. With trembling fingers, she answered.

"Katherine!"

Amelia's bright voice burst through the speaker, so full of energy that Katherine almost dropped the phone.

"You finally answered! Do you know how worried you made everyone? I told you that fever wasn't normal." Katherine couldn't speak. She closed her eyes.

The last time she had heard this voice... It had been broken. Exhausted. Filled with grief and almost hated her. Now Amelia sounded years younger. Happy. Completely unaware that anything terrible had ever happened.

"Katherine?" Amelia laughed softly. "Don't tell me you're still half asleep."

"M... Mom?"

"What is it?" Katherine swallowed hard.

"You..." Her voice cracked.

"You sound..."

"I sound what?"

"...Fine." There was a brief silence before Amelia laughed again.

"What an odd thing to say." She continued talking without noticing anything unusual.

"Anyway, don't stay in the hospital longer than necessary. Your birthday is only a few days away, and you promised you'd come home." Birthday.

The word echoed inside Katherine's mind.

"I've already told Richard to arrange dinner," Amelia continued happily. "He wants you to meet an old friend's son. Apparently they've been trying to introduce you for months."

Katherine wasn't listening anymore. "His name is Soron Stan."

The phone slipped from Katherine's hand. It struck the floor with a sharp crack.

Her trembling fingers reached for the phone before she opened the calendar application. The numbers staring back at her refused to make sense.

June 18th. Four years earlier. Exactly four years before the night she died.

She stared at the date until her vision blurred. She hadn't met Soron. Joanna hadn't appeared. She hadn't yet been declared the Fake Heiress. And she hadn't died yet. None of it had happened yet.

A violent shiver ran through her body as one impossible truth finally settled into her heart. She had returned...

Four years too soon.