The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 127: Surrender

Pain.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

A deep, crushing agony that pulsed through every fiber of her being, as though her bones were shattering and reforming with each excruciating second.

She wanted to move, to scream, to do anything that would make it stop. But her body betrayed her.

A suffocating sensation overwhelmed her, like she was drowning in an ocean of fire.

What’s happening to me?

Athena tried to recall the last thing she remembered, but her thoughts were scattered, fleeting like whispers in the wind.

A battle? A mission? A war?

No.

There had been a confrontation. Blood. Betrayal. A war of interstellar proportions. And then, darkness.

Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy as if weighted down by years of exhaustion. Blinding light. White walls. The sterile scent of antiseptic.

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For a moment, she thought she was trapped in a medical facility in the Andromeda Galaxy, perhaps a military base or an imperial hospital.

But the dull hum of outdated technology, the faint beeping of an old-fashioned heart monitor.

This wasn’t Andromeda.

Her pulse quickened. She turned her head slightly, ignoring the searing pain in her neck. A hospital room. On Earth.

It was an ordinary hospital room. The kind she hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. Her breath hitched.

She lifted her left hand with great difficulty, fingers trembling as they reached for her right wrist. A sharp prick greeted her touch.

An IV drip.

Her eyes widened.

This is impossible.

She moved her fingers along the soft sheets, feeling the texture, the warmth of the sun filtering through the blinds. Everything was real.

She inhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat was weak, fragile, nothing like the powerful, trained body she had honed over years of war.

Why am I back on Earth?

Her fingers curled into the sheets as panic settled in.

Was this a dream? An illusion?

No.

Her pain was real. Her exhaustion was real. Her weakness, far too real.

She tried to summon her mental power, the energy she had wielded so effortlessly in the interstellar era. But there was nothing.

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She pushed deeper, attempting to draw upon her internal strength, the refined force she had honed as a warrior. But again...

Nothing. Her body felt empty. As if everything, her strength, her power, her very essence, had been erased.

Her breathing grew uneven as she frantically searched for anything that would confirm that her time in Andromeda had been real.

A communicator? A neural link? A military insignia? Anything. But there was nothing. No interstellar devices. No uniform. No proof. Nothing that indicated she had ever left Earth.

As if it had all been a dream. A nightmare? A fairytale? Her fingers dug into the sheets, cold sweat forming at her temples.

No. This can’t be real.

Her mind screamed at her to move, to get out of the hospital bed and confirm whether this was truly the Earth she had once known.

But when she tried to lift herself up...

Her body wouldn’t budge. Her muscles felt like they had atrophied, as though she had been in this bed for months.

She gritted her teeth. This couldn’t be happening. She was Athena Demerin-Mors. A warrior. A strategist. A legend.

How could she be this weak?

Her fingers twitched, a feeble attempt at defiance. Her mind raced through every possible explanation.

Had she been captured? Had someone extracted her memories and forced her into a simulation?

Was this the work of an enemy faction? Or...

Had she… truly died?

Her throat felt dry as she remembered her last moments...

The war. The betrayal. The battle against the one she once called family.

Her vision blurred. I died. I should have died.

And yet, she was here. On Earth. In a body far too weak to be her own. She let out a shaky breath, staring up at the ceiling.

If she had truly returned to Earth. Then what had happened to Andromeda? To Sinalta? To Mors Jericho?

Her heart clenched. Did he know she was gone? Had he searched for her? Or had history already erased her existence?

A surge of emotions welled up inside her. Confusion, anger, fear, longing. If this was reality, then she had only one choice.

Find the truth. And if it wasn’t...

Then she would tear through the illusion and return to the battlefield where she belonged.

Days turned into weeks.

Athena remained in the hospital, her body slowly regaining strength, but the weight in her chest never faded.

No matter how many times she checked, no matter how many questions she asked the doctors and nurses, the answer remained the same.

There was nothing. No records of her existence beyond Earth. No history of the Andromeda Galaxy, Sinalta, or the war that had consumed her entire life.

No mention of the interstellar civilization she had once fought to protect.

She scoured the news, the internet, every possible source of information, but the universe she knew simply did not exist. It was as if she had never left Earth at all.

As if Athena Mors, the warrior, the strategist, the legend, had never been real. But she remembered.

She remembered the weight of a blaster in her hands, the rush of battle, the sharp pain of betrayal. She remembered him.

Mors Jericho.

Her husband. Her comrade. The man who had fought beside her, against her, who had loved her.

Did he remember her? Did he even exist? Or had she truly been erased?

She sat by the window, staring at the world she had once known, but no longer belonged to.

Had she dreamed it all? A nightmare? A fairytale? Her fingers curled against the hospital blanket.

No.

She refused to believe that. But the truth was clear. No matter how much she searched, how much she longed for the life she had lost.

Athena never returned to Andromeda. And no trace of that world, of her past, was ever found. Days blurred together, but the ache in Athena’s chest never faded.

She wandered through the city, retracing the steps of a life she barely remembered, yet nothing felt real. Everything was too small, too quiet.

Her hands no longer held the weight of a weapon. Her body no longer carried the scars of war.

She was just Athena, an ordinary woman on Earth, without power, without purpose.

And yet, every night, she dreamed of battles among the stars, of a man whose voice she could no longer hear. Had she truly lived that life? Or had she simply imagined it all?