### In a world devastated by extreme heatwaves, my best friend, Olivia, was thrown out of her husband’s house at 12:30 in the dead of night. Dressed in nothing but her pajamas, she stood sobbing on the side of the road, begging me to take her in. I drove 120 miles to pick her up, brought her home, fed her, and bought her new clothes. I even encouraged her to leave her abusive husband. But three months later, when her life didn’t improve, she tore off my protective heat suit and left me to die under the searing 120°F sun. Her reasoning? “If you hadn’t told me to divorce him, I wouldn’t be living such a miserable life!” “Claire, can you come pick me up?” The familiar voice on the other end of the phone sent a chill down my spine, freezing me in place. It was Olivia. It felt like déjà vu. This was exactly how it happened in my previous life: Olivia’s husband, Nathan Zhang, had thrown her out of the house late at night, and she’d called me, desperate for help. Without hesitation, I had driven 120 miles to bring her to safety. I treated her like family, offering her food, shelter, and support. I had even told my parents, “Olivia is like a sister to me. She’s the family that life gave me, and I’ll always look out for her.” To me, she was more than a friend—she was my closest confidante. Her problems were my problems, and I treated her with the utmost care. From the beginning, though, I had a bad feeling about Nathan. He was controlling and manipulative, and I urged Olivia to leave him, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she chose to marry him and move far away. After the wedding, Olivia often called to vent about how Nathan was abusive and unfaithful. I lost count of the number of times I told her to leave him. Every time she swore she’d come to me and file for divorce, but the next day, she’d reconcile with him. In my past life, I was a fool. When Nathan threw her out, I brought her home and spent weeks convincing her to leave him. After all, who wouldn’t side with her? Being kicked out in the middle of the night, forced to wander the streets—it was unforgivable. But Olivia was nothing more than a snake in disguise. Three months later, after living comfortably in my home, she snapped. In a fit of rage, she tore off my protective heat suit and threw me outside into the blistering sun. I begged her from the other side of the door, pleading for my life, but she glared at me with resentment. “Why do you get to live happily with your perfect husband while I’m left a divorced nobody?” Under the relentless heat, I collapsed in the middle of the street. My body was found days later, scorched and unrecognizable. As for Olivia? She went after my husband. I had once told him, “Ethan, Olivia is my best friend. Treat her as well as you treat me.” And he did. He trusted her when she told him there were roses growing outside that he should pick to honor my memory. Wearing a compromised heat suit she had prepared, Ethan ventured out into the deadly heat. He suffocated in the sweltering air, his body baking under the sun until he was nothing but dried remains. But now, somehow, I had been given a second chance. I found myself standing in the same moment as before, Olivia’s voice trembling on the other end of the line.
“Claire? Did you hear me?” she asked again, her tone pitiful. I smirked coldly. Oh, I heard her just fine. This was my chance to rewrite my fate. “Olivia,” I said, my voice calm but distant, “Nathan probably didn’t mean it. He loves you too much to actually kick you out. You should go back and talk to him.” There was silence on the line. Then, Olivia stammered, “W-what? Claire, are you mad at me? Is this because I didn’t listen to you before? Please, you’re the only person I can turn to. You’ve always been there for me. You’re my best friend!” She began showering me with compliments, recounting all the ways I had helped her in the past. But with every word she spoke, my heart only grew colder. If she truly knew how much I had cared for her, why had she betrayed me so cruelly in my last life? Why had she called me a “fake friend” and destroyed my family out of jealousy? I remembered telling Ethan, “Honey, Olivia is like a sister to me. Treat her the same way you treat me.” How naive I had been. She was no sister—she was a monster. And because of my blind trust, Ethan had died a horrific death, suffocating in the heat while searching for roses she had lied about. This time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
The moment I hung up the call with Olivia, regret surged through me, sharp and bitter. “Claire?” Ethan, my husband, stirred awake and walked out of the bedroom, his voice groggy with sleep. He glanced at the phone in my hand, and when he saw Olivia’s name on the screen, his brow furrowed. “Another fight with her husband?” he asked softly. I nodded, then turned my attention back to the phone. “Olivia,” I said calmly, “go back home. Nathan won’t leave you out there. Trust me.” Before she could respond, I ended the call. But I wasn’t done. I immediately dialed Nathan. In my past life, Olivia had blamed me for convincing her to leave him. This time, I’d make sure they stayed together. “Nathan,” I started when he answered, “Olivia’s at the grocery store on the corner. She says you don’t love her, but I know that’s not true. You two have been through so much together—she’s lucky to have someone like you.” “Claire?” Nathan asked, his voice dripping with suspicion. “It’s me,” I confirmed. He scoffed, his tone turning cold. “If it weren’t for you meddling last time, Olivia wouldn’t have left in the first place. And now you’re trying to play the hero?” Meddling? Oh, Olivia. How much had you lied to me in our past life? She’d claimed I encouraged her to leave him, but it was clear now that she had twisted the narrative to suit her self-pity. “Nathan,” I said, my voice firm, “you can’t just throw accusations like that. I’ve always told Olivia to work things out with you. Marriage isn’t something you give up on lightly. You two belong together.” There was silence, then a begrudging, “Fine. I’ll go get her.” As I hung up, I smirked. Olivia, I hope you’re ready to explain yourself when Nathan shows up. Don’t forget to throw your so-called ‘best friend’ under the bus to save your own skin. With those two out of the way, I still couldn’t relax. In three days, global temperatures were predicted to rise above 120°F, and chaos would soon follow. Even though utilities like water and electricity would still function, the unbearable heat would make it nearly impossible to go outside. Protective suits could help for short trips, but even a small tear could lead to burns, dehydration, or worse. Fear and despair would take over. Supplies would dwindle. And then the true horror would begin—crime would skyrocket. I’d seen it all in my past life. The memory of those days haunted me, pushing me to act immediately. I called my boss and requested a leave of absence. Then I did the same for Ethan. Next, I called my parents. “Mom, Dad,” I said urgently, “the heatwave is coming. You need to tell everyone in the village to start preparing the fallout shelter in the back hills.” My parents lived in a small village founded by my family generations ago. Fewer than ten households remained, all of them relatives. The fallout shelter, built into the hillside behind our orchards, had been abandoned for years. But I remembered stumbling across it as a child during one blazing summer. The outside temperature had been in the high 90s, but inside the shelter, it was a cool, comfortable 68°F. I’d even fallen asleep there, only to be scolded by my parents when they found me hours later. After that, my dad started using the shelter to cool off while working in the orchard. He even set up a small space for me to rest whenever I tagged along. In this life, the memory of that cool, safe haven was all I could think about. In my previous life, when the heatwave hit, my parents had rushed to the shelter and confirmed that it still maintained a livable temperature. Ethan and I had planned to join them, but Olivia refused to leave the city. “It’s so inconvenient to pack up and move,” she complained. “Besides, the government will take care of us. Things will settle down soon enough.” When I insisted on leaving, she burst into tears. “You’re abandoning me, aren’t you? I thought I was your best friend!” Her sobs wore me down, and I foolishly stayed. But staying was a death sentence. Ethan and I both perished—him from dehydration when Olivia sabotaged his protective suit, and me from heat exposure after she locked me outside. And Olivia? She and Nathan took over the shelter, leaving my parents and the villagers to die under the scorching sun. The thought of it still made my blood boil.
“Mom, Dad, listen carefully. Tell everyone in the village—those who can return home should do so immediately, and those who can’t must stock up on essential supplies and stay put. And one more thing: don’t tell anyone outside the village about our location or that we’re preparing. Not a word about the supplies, either.” “This is about survival.” “Claire, what’s going on?” My mom’s voice was filled with alarm, her nervousness radiating through the phone. “Mom, a scientist I know says the temperature will hit 120°F in three days.” “120°F?” My mom gasped, nearly dropping the phone in shock. Time was running out, so I quickly emphasized the gravity of the situation. Hearing the urgency in my voice, my parents finally began to understand the seriousness. They swore they would follow my instructions to the letter. “Mom, there’s no time to waste. You and Dad need to start preparing immediately. The fallout shelter hasn’t been used in years—it’ll need a lot of repairs. Get to work, fast.” “Got it.” I reminded them to send me daily progress updates and to assign tasks to the other villagers. Only by working together could they speed up the preparations. Once I was certain my parents would take action, I heaved a long sigh of relief and finally allowed myself to drift into a deep sleep. The next morning, I had Ethan take his parents to my parents’ village. “Claire, are you okay?” Ethan asked, concern etched into his face. His worry made my chest tighten. Memories of his death in my past life flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around him. “I’m fine,” I said softly. “But according to the expert, the heatwave will hit in a few days. We need to prepare now. Take your parents to my mom and dad’s place, and help them get the fallout shelter fixed. Most importantly, make sure they have enough supplies.” “What about you?” Ethan frowned. “You’re staying behind?” I shook my head. “There are some supplies the village can’t get. I’ll handle them here. Once you get there, ask my parents to gather a few trucks and have them wait for me at the cemetery on the edge of the village.” “Alright.” I shared the rest of my plan with him. Although he looked a little confused, he didn’t question me. Ethan could sense how serious this was, and though he didn’t fully understand, he trusted me. “Ethan,” I said firmly, “don’t tell anyone about the fallout shelter or why we’re stocking up. If anyone asks, say it’s for renovating the family shrine and preparing for a memorial gathering.” Ethan, quick on the uptake, nodded without hesitation. He left right away, driving our SUV, stopping along the way to pick up tools for electricity and water systems. Meanwhile, I headed straight to the farmers’ markets, buying supplies in bulk. I divided everything into categories—meat, rice, vegetables—all meticulously planned. At the same time, I instructed my parents to buy large freezers, but to do so discreetly. “Don’t buy them all from one place,” I told them. “Spread it out so it doesn’t attract attention.” Once the freezers arrived at the house, they moved them to the fallout shelter. From the videos my mom sent me, the shelter was shaping up beautifully. With the help of the aunts in the village, the once-abandoned space was now almost unrecognizable. I remembered the shelter being large, but I hadn’t realized just how massive it was. After cleaning and organizing, they’d even divided it into sections: living quarters, a recreation area, a kitchen, and, surprisingly, an open-air section where sunlight streamed in. The deeper they went into the shelter, the more impressive it became. At the very back, the shelter connected to a cliffside with a natural ventilation system. The breeze made it perfect for planting crops. “Claire,” my mom said in one of her updates, “we’ve cleaned out all the rooms and installed water and electricity. We even left space for the freezers.” With the shelter coming together so well, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. Now, I could focus on the rest of the supplies without distraction.
Three full trucks packed with supplies. The truck driver chuckled as he glanced at me. “Miss, are you opening a grocery store or something?” I smiled back, playing along. “Big celebration in the village—lots of guests and a banquet to prepare. You’d be surprised how fast all this will disappear.” “Ah, that makes sense. For a second, I thought you were stocking up for the apocalypse!” I didn’t bother explaining further; sometimes, less was more. I sent the three trucks to three separate drop-off points near different cemeteries, where Ethan and some of the guys from the village were waiting. Once the supplies were unloaded, we carefully transferred them to the trucks my family had brought. I’d reminded everyone repeatedly to avoid being seen. The supplies were discreetly delivered to the fallout shelter in ten separate trips. By the time we finished, the shelter was packed wall-to-wall with food, water, and essentials. The sight of it all made me feel like a deflated balloon, and I collapsed onto the sofa with a long sigh. For the first time since my rebirth, I felt safe. This time, the heat wouldn’t kill me. It had been so long since I’d seen my parents. When I finally did, I couldn’t hold back my emotions. I threw myself into their arms and cried like a child. Startled by my outburst, they tried to comfort me, their voices full of worry. “What’s wrong, Claire? Why are you crying so much?” I shook my head, brushing it off with a weak excuse. “It’s just… the heat. It’s overwhelming, and I couldn’t hold it in.” My mom chuckled and teased, “You’re acting like a little kid again.” I smiled through my tears and leaned into their warmth, letting myself be a daughter for just a moment longer. Once I’d calmed down, I started asking detailed questions about the shelter. When I arrived earlier, my uncle had been overseeing the installation of reinforced fencing around the perimeter. Honestly, if my mom hadn’t guided me inside, I never would’ve found the entrance. They’d done an incredible job hiding it. Forget Olivia—no one, not even the locals, would be able to locate this place. That night, my mom and a few of the aunts prepared a feast to welcome us. After dinner, Ethan took me on a little tour of the shelter. Holding hands, we explored every nook and cranny. “I didn’t have time to fix everything,” Ethan said, gesturing toward some unfinished sections. “We don’t know how long this heatwave will last, but your dad and I figured we could improve things bit by bit as we go.” “There’s plenty of time,” I reassured him, squeezing his hand. Knowing how much I loved watching movies, Ethan had even set up a small room with a projector. Seeing his thoughtfulness made me smile. The next day, the heatwave hit. The temperature soared to 122°F, and the world outside descended into chaos. People who dared step outdoors without proper protection were immediately burned. And unlike regular burns, these heat injuries were slow to heal. Experts and government officials issued warnings, urging citizens to stay indoors and avoid unnecessary travel. Community workers began distributing protective suits, based on the number of residents in each neighborhood. When our building’s property manager called to check on us, I told them, “Oh, my family’s traveling out of town, so you don’t need to include us in the headcount.” Meanwhile, Olivia sent me a picture of my house.
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