But she just couldn’t make sense of it.
She’d done everything. She’d already set off the butterfly effect, changed so much. So why... why couldn’t she stop Ivy’s tragedy?
“Why...”
“Why did it turn out like this?”
Her face was burning, streaked with tears, her voice barely more than a broken whisper.
In her feverish haze, it felt like she was still on that call from her past life. She couldn’t even tell what was real anymore.
She kept mumbling, her voice raw with confusion and tears.
“Dean... why...”
“Why did this have to happen to Ivy again... in this lifetime...”
James, who was gently wiping her hands with a cool towel, suddenly paused.
Teresa, sitting at the edge of the bed, heard every word her daughter said. She especially caught that name.
Startled, Teresa quickly tried to cover, “She’s just burning up with fever, saying whatever comes to mind.”
She turned to Marian and rushed out, “Go, bring the medicine the doctor left.”
The doctor had already checked on Emmy.
But she was pregnant, so they couldn’t risk any strong medication. The doctor had only prescribed a tiny dose, and said physical cooling was more important.
That was why James kept wiping down her arms and legs, over and over, trying to bring her fever down.
Soon, Marian brought in a small cup with just a sip of dark, bitter medicine.
James helped Emmy sit up and carefully fed her the liquid.
But Emmy was still lost in her nightmare, whispering “why,” “why didn’t things change,” and, every now and then, calling out for “Ivy.”


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