Chapter 2

I lifted my gaze and saw the framed photo sitting on my desk, the one we took together the day he confessed his feelings to me.

But suddenly, the date in the bottom right corner of the photo shimmered, then shifted backward by a whole day.

My eyes went wide with shock. I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

Wait a second. Could Michael from the past actually change the future? My jaw nearly dropped as I wondered.

The sound of his footsteps came to an abrupt halt, and ink began to bleed into the love letter.

[So you're saying the future me betrays her? What, can you see into the future or something? If you really can, then tell me, where's Anna right now?] he demanded.

My right hand trembled, and I let my gaze fall, feeling empty inside.

After a long moment, I finally picked up the pen and replied.

I wrote: [She's at home. Tonight, someone will swap out the medicine she gives her mom, and she will be framed as a murderer. Her own father will break her right arm, and just like that, her dream of getting into the Royal Academy of Arts will be shattered.]

[No way. Mrs. Summers has always been nice to everyone. She's never gotten into any drama. And Anna just returned to the family. If they really felt guilty about what happened, why would they treat her so badly?] Michael wrote, his disbelief practically jumping off the page.

His message was so forceful, but I could hear his breathing getting quick and shaky.

I let out a mocking laugh. If they really felt guilty about what had happened, why did they bring me back over ten years ago but never let me use their family name?

Rachel was mixed up with me as a baby and became the fake heiress, but the Summers family raised her like royalty. Next to her, I was nothing but an outsider.

After my innocence was proven, my mother's death remained an unsolved case.

But then one day, I stumbled upon a secret conversation between the elder members of the Summers family and Rachel.

The elders were full of twisted pride as they praised her. "You plotted Tracy's death and managed to pin the crime on Anna. What a cunning move. We've seen how shrewd you are. Having someone like you help your brothers manage the family business puts our minds at ease."

Rachel just smirked. "Thanks for the praise. I was afraid you might think I was a little too vicious."

"Tch, Tracy brought it on herself. She flat-out refused to step aside and actually wanted Anna to be the heiress. That hick, Anna, grew up in a poor town. I bet she'd lose it and embarrass herself if she ever had to show up at a classy party." One of them jeered.

Laughter exploded in the room. My fingers dug so deeply into my palms that it hurt, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't pull myself free from that helplessness.

Later on, I secretly reported what I had heard to the police, so for a short while, Rachel was treated as the prime suspect.

But I was up against the powerful Summers family all by myself. If I kept fighting, it might have dragged Michael into a mess he didn't deserve.

So I just kept the whole thing to myself, locking it away where no one could ever find it.

But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Michael, at 30, would actually choose Rachel over me.

My tears fell on the letter, smudging the ink. His handwriting paused. "You... are you crying?" My tears hit the love letter, blurring the ink, and his handwriting paused. [Are... Are you crying?]

I wiped away my tears, then picked up the pen and wrote: [Every word I'm telling you is the truth. It's all going to happen. And what's worse, the future you will betray Anna and run right into the arms of the very person who framed her.]

I continued: [Michael, I'm begging you. Please, keep your distance from her. Leave her alone for her sake.]

My tears wouldn't stop, falling onto the love letter and smudging the words again.

This time, there was nothing. He just stayed silent.

I set down my pen and paper, curled up in bed, and drifted off into a hazy sleep.

When I woke up, the sky outside was just starting to lighten.

Thirty-year-old Michael hadn't come home yet.

Rachel sent me a photo.

In it, Michael was down on one knee, slipping the ring he'd taken from me onto her index finger.

He'd done the exact same thing for me when he was 18.

I'd guarded that ring with so much care all these years, and now it just seemed so laughable.

The treasure I'd cherished for 12 years turned out to be something he could give away to someone else in a heartbeat, like it meant nothing.

I got up and accidentally knocked into the table next to me. The vase filled with water teetered, and I instinctively reached out to steady it. A jolt of panic shot through me.

Ever since my right hand was injured, it'd been so weak. I couldn't pick up or hold anything heavy, and even the smallest movement caused sharp pain.

But after catching the vase, the pain I braced for never showed up. I stared at my arm, stunned, when out of nowhere, a whole new memory flooded into my mind.

I was just about to give my mom her medicine when 18-year-old Michael burst in and grabbed me, dragging me away from her.

That day, my mom never took the pills I tried to give her, and I wasn't held responsible for her death.

But when Michael and I rushed back home, my mom was already dead, anyway.

My legs went weak, but Michael caught me and dragged me into the bushes to hide.

Behind us, Rachel's voice called out sharply, full of irritation.

She said, "Someone showed up and took Anna away—totally messed up my plan. Whatever, good thing I was ready and gave her mother some sleeping pills."

One of the elders snickered. "We've already worked it out with the cops. It'll be called a suicide. Tracy was always going on about how miserable her life was anyway. Now she got her wish."

They kept walking, their laughter carried over to us on the breeze, smug and triumphant.

When Michael finally brought me, my tears all dried up from crying, to my dad, my dad didn't yell or hit me this time. My dad just hugged me, his arms full of guilt and pity, holding me as if I were the most pitiful thing in the world.