Chapter 1 · No Second Chances for Her

Chapter 1

[Sherlyn, please, just call me a ride. I'm really running out of time.]

Staring at the message from Kenzie, I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.

Every time something went wrong, she made it my fault.

And the last time, she pushed me straight into oncoming traffic to punish me.

I died at the hands of my so-called best friend.

Now, I had a second life.

When the same message appeared again, I typed out a single reply. [Not available.]

Then I turn off my phone.

This time, I was not calling her a car.

No—more accurately, I was done paying the price for someone else's life.

*****

Let's rewind forty-eight hours.

I was jolted awake by a blaring alarm.

I sat up suddenly, gasping for breath, my pajamas drenched in cold sweat.

Outside the window was the same old view of my tiny rented place—a cramped room, walls with peeling paint, and a makeshift vanity overflowing with cheap makeup.

Something was off.

But I died. No doubt about it.

I could still see the headlights of that white van, hear the sickening crunch of my bones as the tires rolled over me, and spot Kenzie Gross standing at the curb, her face flashing with a twisted satisfaction.

And then, nothing but endless darkness.

My hand shook as I raised it, staring at my fingers—no injuries, not a scratch. My phone screen glowed, the date screaming at me: March 15, 2023.

I still had two years left before the day I died, just forty-eight hours until that so-called life-changing meeting.

My breathing slowly calmed, and my mind started spinning.

Memories from my previous life crashed over me like a tidal wave, each one etched into my bones like a blade.

Kenzie was my best friend.

We were college roommates, same major, same dorm. She was pretty, outgoing, and always knew how to work a room—the kind of girl who lit up every place she walked into.

I was just average-looking, quiet, with above average grades. The kind of girl who'd disappear in a crowd.

Honestly, people like us shouldn't have been friends.

But fate had other plans. During our first year's discipline training, Kenzie passed out from heatstroke, and I ran nearly half a mile carrying her to the infirmary. After that, she stuck to me.

"Sherlyn, you're my best friend." Kenzie said that for four years. And for four years, I believed her.

I did her homework, covered for her in class, brought her food, lent her money for bags, and stayed up all night with her after a breakup.

Whatever Kenzie wanted, I gave her. I thought that was what friendship meant. If I poured my heart out for someone, they'd do the same for me.

How naive.

Forty-eight hours later, Kenzie would receive a text.

Sebastian Larsen was the only son of the Larsen family—the prince of Norvayne City's elite circles.

Every socialite in town would kill just to catch a glimpse of him, and somehow, Kenzie managed to score an invite to meet him, not a private meeting, though—just a chance to see him at a party.

It was a message that could change her fate.

As always, Kenzie left everything for me to handle—even the little stuff like calling a cab.

She said, "Sherlyn, hurry up and call me a cab. I'm running out of time to get ready. Use that app on your phone—you still have coupons, right? Hurry."

Back then, I didn't even think twice. I just opened the app and booked her the priciest ride, just so she wouldn't look cheap in front of Sebastian.

Then the driver got into a fender bender.

It was just a minor accident. Nobody got hurt, but it set her back twenty minutes. By the time she finally showed up at the restaurant, Sebastian was already gone.

He never waited for anyone.

That night, Kenzie came back to the dorm in tears, threw her phone onto the bed, and pointed right at my face.

She snapped, "This is all your fault. What kind of lousy ride did you even call? If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been late.

"Do you have any idea what I went through just to get that meeting? You ruined everything. You ruined my whole life."

I just stood there, frozen.

I started to say, "You were the one who asked me to call the cab," but when I saw Kenzie's red, tear-streaked eyes, the words just died in my throat.

I even felt guilty, like it really was my fault. That night, I went out and bought her favorite tiramisu, wrote her a long apology letter, and said, "I'm sorry, I should've picked a better driver."

Looking back now, I just want to slap myself.

Why did I even apologize?

Chapter 1

[Sherlyn, please, just call me a ride. I'm really running out of time.]

Staring at the message from Kenzie, I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.

Every time something went wrong, she made it my fault.

And the last time, she pushed me straight into oncoming traffic to punish me.

I died at the hands of my so-called best friend.

Now, I had a second life.

When the same message appeared again, I typed out a single reply. [Not available.]

Then I turn off my phone.

This time, I was not calling her a car.

No—more accurately, I was done paying the price for someone else's life.

*****

Let's rewind forty-eight hours.

I was jolted awake by a blaring alarm.

I sat up suddenly, gasping for breath, my pajamas drenched in cold sweat.

Outside the window was the same old view of my tiny rented place—a cramped room, walls with peeling paint, and a makeshift vanity overflowing with cheap makeup.

Something was off.

But I died. No doubt about it.

And then, nothing but endless darkness.

My hand shook as I raised it, staring at my fingers—no injuries, not a scratch. My phone screen glowed, the date screaming at me: March 15, 2023.

I still had two years left before the day I died, just forty-eight hours until that so-called life-changing meeting.

My breathing slowly calmed, and my mind started spinning.

Memories from my previous life crashed over me like a tidal wave, each one etched into my bones like a blade.

Kenzie was my best friend.

We were college roommates, same major, same dorm. She was pretty, outgoing, and always knew how to work a room—the kind of girl who lit up every place she walked into.

I was just average-looking, quiet, with above average grades. The kind of girl who'd disappear in a crowd.

Honestly, people like us shouldn't have been friends.

But fate had other plans. During our first year's discipline training, Kenzie passed out from heatstroke, and I ran nearly half a mile carrying her to the infirmary. After that, she stuck to me.

"Sherlyn, you're my best friend." Kenzie said that for four years. And for four years, I believed her.

I did her homework, covered for her in class, brought her food, lent her money for bags, and stayed up all night with her after a breakup.

Whatever Kenzie wanted, I gave her. I thought that was what friendship meant. If I poured my heart out for someone, they'd do the same for me.

How naive.

Forty-eight hours later, Kenzie would receive a text.

Sebastian Larsen was the only son of the Larsen family—the prince of Norvayne City's elite circles.

Every socialite in town would kill just to catch a glimpse of him, and somehow, Kenzie managed to score an invite to meet him, not a private meeting, though—just a chance to see him at a party.

It was a message that could change her fate.

As always, Kenzie left everything for me to handle—even the little stuff like calling a cab.

She said, "Sherlyn, hurry up and call me a cab. I'm running out of time to get ready. Use that app on your phone—you still have coupons, right? Hurry."

Back then, I didn't even think twice. I just opened the app and booked her the priciest ride, just so she wouldn't look cheap in front of Sebastian.

Then the driver got into a fender bender.

It was just a minor accident. Nobody got hurt, but it set her back twenty minutes. By the time she finally showed up at the restaurant, Sebastian was already gone.

He never waited for anyone.

That night, Kenzie came back to the dorm in tears, threw her phone onto the bed, and pointed right at my face.

She snapped, "This is all your fault. What kind of lousy ride did you even call? If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been late.

"Do you have any idea what I went through just to get that meeting? You ruined everything. You ruined my whole life."

I just stood there, frozen.

I started to say, "You were the one who asked me to call the cab," but when I saw Kenzie's red, tear-streaked eyes, the words just died in my throat.

I even felt guilty, like it really was my fault. That night, I went out and bought her favorite tiramisu, wrote her a long apology letter, and said, "I'm sorry, I should've picked a better driver."

Looking back now, I just want to slap myself.

Why did I even apologize?