a day late... I can already tell this one is going to be hard to update... oh well enjoy.

Chapter 2: Meeting Jade

I sat there, staring blankly at the floating hologram of a man in a tailored suit talking about "life's missed opportunities" like it was some kind of investment portfolio we'd screwed up. The lights in the seminar room were dimmed just enough to make the giant screen the most captivating thing in the room, which was saying a lot, because I was fighting sleep. It was Day One of the nine-month reprogramming, and I was already over it.

I crossed my arms, sinking lower in the uncomfortable chair. "This is what I died for?" I muttered to myself, just as the door to the seminar room creaked open.

Someone was slipping in, as stealthy as you could be in this weird white purgatory. My eyes flicked to the shadow moving down the aisle, weaving between rows of people, and then she appeared—*her*.

The woman from earlier, the one I couldn't stop thinking about since I saw her argue with the concierge. She was wearing that same dark leather jacket, tight jeans, and boots like she'd just walked off the set of a punk rock music video. Her hair, dark and wild, fell in messy waves that somehow made her look even more effortlessly cool. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, but I felt a weird jolt as she got closer.

And, of course, because the universe is a cosmic joke, she slid into the empty seat right next to me.

I froze. My whole body went rigid like some hormonal teenager sitting next to their crush in math class. *Get it together, Tori.* This was purgatory, for crying out loud. This was supposed to be where I unlearn all my bad habits and regrets, not develop a weird, celestial crush on some punk rock angel.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, my pulse quickening as I tried desperately to focus on the hologram again. But every time I stole a glance in her direction, my mind just... wandered. Like how the light caught her jawline, or how her fingers—long and calloused—drummed absently on the armrest. My heart raced, and I bit the inside of my cheek to snap myself out of it.

This wasn't *helping*.

After what felt like an eternity of me trying not to stare, a bell chimed, signaling the end of the session. People started standing up, stretching, and mingling as the seminar took a break. I bolted upright, telling myself that maybe I could slip away without having to—

"Hey."

Her voice was low, smooth, with a kind of roughness around the edges. I turned slowly, and sure enough, she was looking right at me. My throat tightened. *Okay, act cool.*

"Uh, hey," I managed, internally wincing at how lame I sounded.

She tilted her head, studying me with those sharp, intense eyes. "You seem distracted. Not exactly a fan of the seminar?"

I gave a half-smile, trying to play it off. "Yeah, no. Just... trying not to fall asleep during our first heavenly PowerPoint presentation."

Her lips curled into a smirk, and suddenly I didn't know if I was supposed to feel proud or mortified. "Yeah, not the most thrilling thing I've ever sat through either."

I chuckled, leaning back in my seat. "I don't know, 'Reviewing Your Life Choices 101' might be exactly the spiritual journey I've been waiting for."

She laughed, a short, dry sound that somehow matched her whole vibe. "I've been through worse." Her tone shifted slightly, a weight behind her words. I could feel it—a kind of intensity that practically radiated off her, like she'd seen things I couldn't even begin to imagine. And I didn't know if I should be impressed or... worried.

"Let me guess," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You're one of those repeat offenders, huh? Coming back by choice?"

She shot me a sidelong glance, her eyes narrowing just a bit. "Yeah. Something like that." She paused, like she was debating whether to say more, and then her gaze softened, only slightly. "I guess I'm... looking for something."

I nodded slowly, even though I had no idea what to say. "Yeah. I think we all are."

Her eyes flicked over me, like she was sizing me up, figuring me out. And God, I could *feel* that gaze. It made me want to shift in my seat, maybe cover up more than just my emotional baggage.

"And you?" she asked, her voice low again, soft enough that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "Why are you here?"

My mouth opened to respond, but I hesitated. Why *was* I here? To be reprogrammed into someone who could live without fear? To fix the life I wasted? Or was it just because I was too scared to actually live?

"I... uh, I'm here because I've been wasting my lives," I blurted out before I could stop myself. "You know, never really took any chances. Kept things... safe."

Her lips twitched, almost like she was going to smile, but it didn't quite make it. "Safe, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling the awkwardness seeping in again. "Apparently being cautious isn't enough to get you a free pass into Heaven."

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and leaned in just slightly. "Sounds like you've got some regrets."

I scoffed. "Don't we all?"

There was a long pause, and then she smirked again. "I don't have regrets. Just unfinished business."

I swallowed, trying not to get lost in the way she said that—like it carried a weight I couldn't touch. "Yeah, well, unfinished business sounds a lot more interesting than never having any business to begin with."

She turned fully toward me, her gaze piercing. "You're hiding something. Aren't you?"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, my heart thumping painfully in my chest. "Hiding?" I echoed, trying to play it off. "I mean, we're all hiding something, right?"

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, but not in a threatening way. More like she was peeling back the layers of my soul, piece by piece. "Maybe. But some people hide better than others."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "What's your name?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Jade."

The name suited her—sharp, dark, and just mysterious enough. "Tori," I offered, trying to steady my voice.

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, like it was digging into something deep inside me that I hadn't acknowledged in a long time. Something I'd kept hidden, even from myself.

And for the first time, I wondered if maybe that's what I was here to uncover.

As we walked out of the seminar room and into what looked like a pristine, otherworldly courtyard, Jade turned to me, her hands stuffed in her leather jacket pockets. There was something about the way she moved, effortlessly cool, like she didn't even care she was in purgatory. I, on the other hand, was trying to make peace with the fact that I was spending the next nine months attending seminars in Heaven's version of a rehab center.

"So," she said, eyes flicking over to me, "what did you do, you know, when you were alive?"

I hesitated for a second. I wasn't used to people asking me that question and actually wanting to know the answer. "I was a CPA," I finally said, feeling the awkwardness creeping in again. "You know... taxes, financial audits, stuff like that."

Jade raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but not in a way that made me feel comfortable. "A CPA, huh? I wouldn't have pegged you for that. So you spent your life doing taxes?"

I shrugged, suddenly feeling small next to her. "Yeah, I guess. It paid the bills. Plus, you know, safe career choice. Steady paycheck."

She gave me a look, a slight smile playing on her lips, but I could tell she wasn't judging me. "Safe," she repeated, almost like she was tasting the word. "I guess that makes sense."

I glanced over at her. "And you? What did you do? Or do I have to guess?"

Her expression shifted slightly, and for a second, I thought she wasn't going to answer. But then she said, "I was a photojournalist."

I blinked. "Really?"

She nodded, her eyes distant, like she was recalling something from another world—well, technically, she was. "Yeah. I, uh... I died while taking combat photos in Ukraine."

I stopped mid-step, turning to face her. "Ukraine? Like... war zone?"

She smirked, though there wasn't much humor behind it. "Yeah. Got a little too close to a missile strike." She shrugged, like she wasn't casually telling me about dying in the middle of a conflict zone.

And here I was, too embarrassed to admit how I'd died. I could barely look her in the eye, the ridiculousness of my own death hitting me all over again. How was I supposed to say I died slipping on a fucking oily puddle in a crowded city street ? I shouldn't have been on my phone, but this guy always hit on me when I walked by him if I gave him eye contact. I cleared my throat, forcing a laugh. "Wow, that's... intense."

"Yeah," she said, but there was something in her voice that hinted at more—something deeper. "But I've been through this whole purgatory thing before. A few times, actually."

"A few times?" I repeated, eyebrows shooting up. "Wait, so this isn't your first... seminar?"

She shook her head, her eyes locking on mine, and for a second, I felt that strange jolt again. "No. I've been back here a few times. Five, actually."

"Five?" I nearly choked. "You've been back five times, and you didn't... you know, move on?"

She let out a short laugh. "Nope. Apparently, I'm not done yet." Her eyes darkened a little, a shadow crossing her face. "I've got unfinished business."

I swallowed, my curiosity pushing me to ask. "Unfinished business?"

Jade nodded, but there was a hesitation in her voice. "Yeah. I don't know exactly what it is yet, but... I feel like I'm looking for something. I just haven't found it."

I furrowed my brow, a sense of both fascination and dread filling me. "And you've been through this—this purgatory thing—five times, and you still don't know what it is?"

She gave a small, almost sad smile. "I guess I'm a slow learner."

I didn't know what to say to that. Here she was, someone who had died doing something meaningful, risking her life to capture the truth in war zones, and yet she was still stuck here, searching for some missing piece of her life. Meanwhile, I was too ashamed to even admit how I'd died.

And yet, something about her vulnerability—her openness about not knowing what she was looking for—made me feel... connected. Like maybe I wasn't the only one lost in this mess.

I tried to push the conversation forward, to fill the space between us. "So... do you think you'll ever figure it out? What you're looking for, I mean."

Jade's eyes lingered on mine, and for a second, I thought I saw something flicker in them. "Maybe. But I guess that's why I keep choosing to come back. Because I don't want to leave without finding it."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She *chose* to come back. She was searching, actively trying to figure out what her purpose was. Meanwhile, I was here because I'd wasted my life, afraid to take any chances.

And then, just as I opened my mouth to respond, I realized something: I didn't even know what I was looking for.

Just before we headed to lunch, Jade leaned against the wall, her expression contemplative. "You know, I had to fight to get into this seminar," she said, her voice steady but laced with an intensity that caught my attention. "How many times have you come back?"

"Seven lifetimes," I replied, the number weighing heavily on me.

Jade raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across her face. "This is my seventh time going back. Apparently, it's the last time I'm allowed to come here, so I'd better die whole next time." Her tone was playful, but I sensed the seriousness beneath it.

"Wait, you remember the other times?" I asked, intrigued.

"Of course," she said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of nostalgia and determination. "When you choose to come back, you keep those memories. It's like coming back from summer camp. You get to relive the experiences, but with more wisdom, I guess."

"That's... interesting," I murmured, feeling a twinge of envy. I'd never had that kind of clarity.

We fell into a brief silence, and I glanced around the room, searching for a distraction. "So, what about food?" I asked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Are we supposed to eat here?"

Jade chuckled lightly. "It's just to maintain a routine until we go back. We don't really need to eat, though." She shrugged, her lips curling into a smile. "But food is so good, why give it up?"

I smiled back, feeling a spark of connection. "Right? I guess it's one of those little joys we can still enjoy while we're here."

"Exactly," Jade said, her eyes brightening. "Let's go see what they have."

As we walked together, I felt a flicker of warmth—something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in a long time.

As we settled into a cozy corner of the cafeteria, I couldn't help but steal glances at Jade. She had this intensity about her that was both captivating and intimidating. The way she carried herself, her dark hair framing her face perfectly—everything about her drew me in. But I also felt a chill of uncertainty, as if I were standing too close to a flame.

"Okay, so what did you see in your projection?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation light. I was curious but also terrified of what she might reveal.

Jade looked down for a moment, her expression shifting from intense to reflective. "I saw Beck," she said quietly. "He received my ashes after I died. It was... surreal." She paused, her eyes distant as if she were recalling a cherished memory. "My family rallied around him. They're building a memorial for me. It's strange to think that while I'm here, they're all out there, honoring my memory."

I nodded, feeling a pang of jealousy and admiration. A posthumous Pulitzer? That was impressive—more than impressive. It made me feel small, like I was just floating in a sea of unaccomplished dreams.

"Wow, that's incredible," I replied, forcing a smile. "I mean, I can't even imagine the impact you had."

Jade's gaze flickered back to me, sharp and assessing. "Thanks. I didn't expect to die doing what I loved, you know? But it feels... good that they remember me like that."

She took a sip of her water, her brow furrowing slightly. "What about you? What did you see in your projection?"

I hesitated, the words choking in my throat. "Oh, you know, just... still in the morgue," I said, trying to sound casual, as if it were a normal thing to say. "It's still pretty fresh, I guess."

Her brow raised slightly, a hint of concern dancing in her dark eyes. "Fresh? Like, just happened?"

"Yeah," I stammered, my heart racing. I couldn't let her see how isolated I'd made my life. I wanted her to think I was worthy of her attention. "Just... in the process of figuring it all out, I guess."

Jade studied me, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, peeling back the layers I had carefully constructed. But she didn't push. Instead, she nodded, as if accepting my vague explanation.

"Figuring it out is what this place is about, right?" she said, her voice softening. "I mean, it's all about finding our purpose again. I'm still trying to figure mine out too."

I felt a small flicker of hope, mixed with the heaviness of my own confusion. "Purpose," I echoed, staring into my half-eaten sandwich. What did that even mean for me? The vague command to "live" felt almost like a cruel joke, a cosmic inside joke I hadn't been invited to.

Jade leaned in, her intensity reigniting. "What do you want, Tori? Like, deep down? Not just surviving, but truly living?"

I wanted to say something profound, to impress her. Instead, I just felt... lost. "I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've spent so long playing it safe, I don't even know what I want."

She watched me closely, and for a moment, the world around us faded. I could see her wanting to understand, wanting to help. But could I let her?

"Maybe that's what we're meant to discover here," Jade suggested, her expression softening again. "It's never too late, right?"

But as the words left her lips, I felt a familiar fear creep in. Wasn't it too late for me? I smiled weakly, trying to mask the doubt that swirled within me. "Yeah, maybe."

And as we continued to eat, the tension in the air thickened with unspoken questions and emotions. I wanted to connect with her, but I didn't know how. For now, I'd settle for just being here, sharing this moment, even if I felt miles away from truly living.