11. How to prevent Millen's death?

What can one achieve if their goal is to rewrite the past?

Tristan took a blank notebook and a pencil. 

Need to write it down. Can't forget.

Phone, keys - he stuffed everything in his pockets before he shut the front door. The ride to the cemetery stretched on. As he looked out of the dusty bus window, he sighed.

Nothing had changed. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. The world looked the same as it did before Kristina's transmigration. It was rather baffling. However, it was absurd to think that something would change. After all, the world won't stop turning because one person, one soul, was somewhere it wasn't supposed to be. 

When Tristan stepped off the bus and saw the front gate leading to the cemetery - he froze, hesitant to take another step.

One grave, that's all Kristina asked for. She hoped to see only one grave belonging to her deceased father. Nothing more. This little thing would be enough. It would be enough to reassure her that her mother is still alive.

Tristan took a deep breath before entering the cemetery, passing a rusty gate that embodied more life than the cemetery as a whole. 

Tristan's eyes anxiously wandered around. A family of two hugged tightly before a freshly buried grave. Right, she was there at one point. Kristina was the little girl who couldn't understand the gravity of losing someone. She was the girl bawling her eyes out, calling out to her daddy to come back. 

Tristan averted his gaze, his footing more steady as if this picture of sorrow was what he needed to go on. A choked laugh bubbled up, escaping as tears, his gaze fixated on the lone grave.

This was her second chance, a chance to prevent her mother's death.

As she sat next to the grave, clouds frowned, and the sky rumbled, it held a vivid resemblance to the sky on the day her mother's burial took place. The tears of joy morphed into something much darker. Like a curtain, the tears covered her vision, leaving blurriness behind. 

"We welcome everyone to our chapel today. We are here to pay our respects and celebrate the life of Millen Evans-"

Kristina saw the man reading the sugarcoated retelling of her mother's life as if it were today. The few suppressing their tears. She saw her distant relatives whom she never met. She saw the unchanging expression Henry had worn since Millen got killed. Alec clasping a drenched tissue. She saw Tristan, who stood at the side. She almost missed his figure. Tristan's fingers fidgeted, his eyes unfocused - fright. He looked frightened, scared rather than sad. Why would he be-

Kristina remembered the few who carried the casket. She remembered the cloudy sky and the mild rain as they buried the coffin. However, Kristina wasn't welcome here. She couldn't even read her eulogy - it was against Henry's wishes. Right. For him, she was nothing more than a bloodsucking leech left by her mother as a living reminder of her absence.

Kristina didn't cry at her mother's funeral. Instead, Kristina's gaze darted across the mourners, searching - as if the killer would show themselves at the funeral. What a foolish thought.

Tristan sloppily wiped his tears.

This hasn't happened yet. I have time.

Kristina scribbled furiously in the notebook, her tears blurring the ink. Each detail, every memory, was a weapon in the fight to come. She sat there for hours, writing every little bit and piece of information that could help her later.

She must've looked so desperate, sitting there with teary eyes scribbling into a little notebook leaning against her father's grave. However, the passerby saw a boy - not Kristina. They saw Tristan, but no one could see her soul.

Tristan's phone buzzed. A text from Alec. He closed the notebook, his breath catching. 'Wanna come over?' - this was what Alec sent. 

This simple, casual sentence made Tristan stiffen.

Kristina forgot the affection Alec showered her with. It took merely a few years for all his affection and their bond to disappear. Before her death, he treated her like nothing more than a stranger, not even using her name to refer to her. 

However, this affection wasn't hers. This affection, as well as everything else, was and is Tristan's. This life, this body, never belonged to her. Before Tristan left, he touched the grass beside the grave. 

At this very spot laid her mother, buried beside her first love. Kristina could never understand why Henry let Millen rest beside him. She knew how much he resented her father; he could never hide his feelings well. Perhaps that's why she recognized the fire burning within him, a fire sparked by her. 

Kristina hoped this place could be the playground for weeds till her death, never to be taken up by any grave - the grave for Millen.

Tristan walked out of the cemetery and got on the first bus. 

'Of course, pick me up at XX bus stop.' - Tristan typed in response.

Kristina was a selfish person, taking what wasn't hers. Step by step, taking over Tristan's life.