Chapter 2

In that instant, every memory I'd supposedly "forgotten" over the last ten years came crashing back.

Her at the airport. Me lying in that rented apartment for three days. The tears I'd shed over my desk during endless late nights at work. The countless drunken apologies I'd whispered to empty air.

She was alive.

She was still alive.

I stood there as tears suddenly poured down my face.

The whole class went quiet. Everyone stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

I didn't care. I just kept looking at her. Looking and looking and looking.

She seemed to notice my stare and turned her head slightly to glance at me.

Just one glance.

Then she calmly looked away and went back to her notes, like I was nothing but air.

No surprise. No excitement. Not the slightest flicker of emotion.

As if... she'd known all along I would show up here.

But I didn't know whether she knew or not. I only knew one thing:

In this life, I couldn't lose her again.

I stumbled my way to the back row and stood beside the trash can in a daze.

My mind was a total mess. Had I been reborn? Was I back in senior year? Why was Emma here? Why was she so calm? Did she... remember something too?

No. If she remembered too, she should hate me. She should avoid me, cry, curse me, at least react somehow. But there was nothing. That calmness wasn't fake. She genuinely didn't care.

As if I meant absolutely nothing to her anymore.

When the bell rang, I was still out of it. Charlie ran over and slapped my shoulder. "Michael, what are you spacing out for? Come on, let's hit the school store. I'll buy you a snack."

I shook my head. "You go ahead."

Charlie gave me a suspicious look. "You okay? You look like crap. What, were you up all night or something?"

"I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well."

Charlie didn't ask more and left.

My eyes stayed locked on the figure in the third row. She stood up with her water bottle and walked out of the classroom. When she passed me, she didn't even glance my way. Her steps were steady, her back straight as a tree in the wind.

I clenched my fists.

Over the next few days, I started watching her like crazy.

She was the star student in our class, ranked first in the whole grade, the teachers' favorite. A few girls were always around her, chatting and laughing. She had company at lunch, people waiting for her after school, and friends to talk to during breaks.

She was doing well.

Way better than in our last life.

Back then, Emma wore a faded old school uniform and sat alone in the cafeteria corner, eating bread with free soup. She never spoke to anyone first, and no one ever spoke to her first either.

Now her uniform was clean, her hair neatly combed, and there was a smile on her face and light in her eyes. The friends around her truly cared about her.

This wasn't right.

Something was seriously off.

Unless... unless she'd come back before me. A whole year before me, maybe even longer. Long enough to change everything, become stronger, and... stop needing me.

The moment that thought hit me, it felt like someone had grabbed my heart and squeezed hard.

I tried to get close to her.

The first time was during break. I took a physics problem over to her desk and tried to keep my voice natural. "Emma, can you explain this one to me? I read the solution, but I still don't really get it."

She looked up at me. Her gaze was light and casual, like she was looking at any ordinary classmate.

Then she took the problem, glanced over it, explained the key points in just a few words, and handed it back. "Got it?"

I nodded. She lowered her head and went back to reading without sparing me another look.

I was still standing there, wanting to say something, when her deskmate Lucy leaned in. "Emma, want to check out that new drink place after school? I heard their taro special is amazing."

"Sure," Emma said with a smile.

I quietly walked away.

The second time was after school. I deliberately walked behind her, keeping about a dozen steps between us. She left the school gates with a few girls, laughing and chatting. I quickened my pace to catch up, and then she suddenly stopped and looked back at me.

That look was faint and cold.

Then she turned around and left with her friends without looking back again.

I stood there watching her receding figure, something bitter rising in my chest. The sunset stretched her shadow long across the ground. I stepped on it, but I still couldn't catch up to her.

She didn't hate me. If she hated me, she'd avoid me, curse me, lose control in front of me. But she did none of that. That kind of calm was scarier than hatred.

It meant she didn't care.

As if I were just some random classmate, some nobody, some passerby not worth even one extra ounce of emotion.