he love the stupid me

I'M IN 1941?!

I expected pain. I expected nothingness. I expected the end.

But instead, I felt warmth. Soft, golden sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, dancing gently in the breeze. The air smelled of old wood, fresh flowers, vanilla, and dried leaves—nothing like the city pollution I knew.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. My vision cleared to reveal an intricately carved wooden ceiling. I wasn't in a hospital; I was somewhere ancient and beautiful.

"Where… am I?" I whispered. My voice sounded softer, higher, yet familiar.

Sitting up, I realized everything was wrong. The bed was firm and covered in fine linen. I lifted my hand—it was smooth, pale, with long nails. I was wearing a white lace nightgown that belonged in a museum.

"Maria Juanita? You are awake?"

A soft voice spoke. I turned to see a woman who looked exactly like my mother, but dressed in vintage clothes, her aura full of grace and sadness.

"Mama?" I asked, confused.

"Oh, thank heavens!" She cried, holding my hand gently. "You have been asleep so long, my daughter. How do you feel?"

"Daughter?" I blinked. "My head hurts. Where is Papa? Where is the condo?"

"You fell and hit your head, my darling Maria Juanita," she stroked my hair. "You are home, in the hacienda. Papa is in the study."

Maria Juanita. The name echoed in my mind. Images flooded my brain—servants bowing, warplanes roaring, and a cold man who looked like my father but wore old suits.

I looked around. No TV, no AC, no phone. Just old furniture and a garden untouched by time.

"What year is it?" I gripped her arm. "Please tell me!"

"Why, it is 1941, my child. December of 1941."

The world spun. 1941. The Japanese Occupation. I wasn't dreaming. I traveled back in time.

I ran to the mirror. Staring back was a face identical to mine, but softer. This was Maria Juanita Romero. My ancestor. The woman betrayed and sold to a Japanese general.

"I traveled back," I whispered. "I’m inside her body."

"Maria Juanita, please rest!" Doña Carmen, my mother in this era, worriedly said. "You are still confused."

"Mama," I trembled. "Is it true? Is Papa giving me away? To the Japanese?"

She paled, tears falling. "I tried to stop him! I told him you are not a commodity to be traded! But he only cares about money and safety. He has no heart."

It was real. The betrayal was happening. But I wasn't the original Maria Juanita. I was Sienna. I argued back. I refused to be perfect.

"Don't worry, Mama," I squeezed her hands. "He has no idea who he is dealing with."

The door creaked open. Don Romero stood there, looking exactly like my father—cold, sharp, and intimidating.

"Maria Juanita," his voice boomed. "You are awake. Good. Prepare yourself. The General will be expecting you soon."

My blood ran cold, but I lifted my chin.

"We’ll see about that, Papa," I said, fire in my voice. "We’ll see."