Chapter 3

The city library on Saturday was so quiet I could hear the pages turning.

I was carrying a stack of competition books toward a window seat when I suddenly stopped at the corner of the philosophy section.

Three shelves ahead, a familiar figure stood with his back to me.

It was Jeremiah.

Dressed in a simple white shirt and black trousers, his slender fingers pulled a copy of Criminal Psychology from the shelf.

Sunlight streamed through the window, outlining his sharp, refined silhouette.

This was the same gentle, scholarly facade that had fooled me in my past life.

For five years of marriage, he was always tender and thoughtful, remembering my periods and waking up at midnight to make me food.

Until I overheard him say, "I only married her to protect Sarah." That was when I realized it had all been an act.

I was about to leave when I saw him pull out a notebook from his bag, not his. The cover read: [Class 3-1, Adam Hill.]

Adam was the second-ranked student in our grade, right behind Jeremiah.

Jeremiah glanced around, and after confirming no one was watching, his lips curled into a chilling smirk.

He flipped open the notebook, carefully tore out several pages of key notes, and then casually tucked the mutilated notebook back into his bag.

My blood ran cold.

This wasn't the gentle Jeremiah I knew.

This was a viper, flicking its tongue in the shadows.

"Enjoying the show?"

A cold voice cut through the silence.

My heart lurched. Jeremiah had turned around and was now watching me through the gap between shelves.

His eyes behind his glasses held none of the warmth he'd once shown me.

Caught red-handed, I stepped out. "So the VP of the student council steals notes?"

He narrowed his eyes, scanning my face. "Clara? I barely recognized you without the glasses." He waved the torn pages. "Competition is ruthless. I'm just helping Adam adapt to the real world early."

His shameless tone made me sick.

Had he played me the same way?

"Can't wait for everyone to see the real you."

I said with a smile.

Jeremiah suddenly stepped closer, his crisp cedar scent enveloping me.

It was the fragrance I'd once loved, now revolting.

"Got proof?"

He leaned in, breath grazing my ear. "Who'd believe the top student would do this? Meanwhile, you go from ugly duckling to swan overnight."

He paused. "Plastic surgery?"

I took a step back. "Jeremiah, did you know? When you smile, the left corner of your mouth lifts 0.3 centimeters higher than the right, like it's rehearsed."

For the first time, his mask cracked.

"And..."

I continued, "You always touch your wristwatch with your right hand before lying. Like now."

His hand froze mid-air.

"Have we met before?" Danger flickered in his eyes.

"In a dream."

I left him with that cryptic smile and walked away.

Outside, the sunlight stung my eyes.

Just how blind had I been in my previous life, to be fooled by a man like that for five years?

*****

On the day of the school arts festival, backstage was pure chaos.

"Clara, you look stunning!"

Emmett adjusted the hem of my dress, eyes sparkling. "Carson sneaked over to peek at you three times. He practically drooled!"

I applied a bold red lipstick in the mirror.

The backless crimson gown hugged my curves, my wavy hair cascading freely, a far cry from the frumpy "Clara the Clueless" of my past life.

"Where's Sarah?" I asked

"Next door getting ready. I heard she's doing a guitar solo today." Emmett rolled his eyes. "She practiced for two weeks just to steal your spotlight."

I smirked. In my previous life, Sarah's performance earned her a recommendation letter, while my piano solo was "canceled due to technical issues."

"Next up, Sarah Evans from Class 5 with Yellow!"

Through the curtains, I watched Sarah float onstage in white, delicate.

The applause was thunderous, especially from the boys' section. Carson sat in the front row, smiling politely, but his gaze kept darting backstage.

Sarah's performance was smooth, except for two glaring mistakes. She left the stage looking pale.

"And now, Clara Bailey from Class 2 with Croatian Rhapsody!"

I took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight. The crowd gasped when the lights hit me.

Settling at the piano, my fingers hovered over the keys.

Ten years of practice in my previous life were abandoned because Carson once said, "Showy girls are tacky." How pathetic.

The music began, gentle then fierce, my hands flying across the keys.

The piece spoke of hope amid war, just like my rebirth. As the final note faded, silence held for two heartbeats before erupting into applause.

I bowed and saw Carson on his feet, clapping wildly, that familiar hunger in his eyes.

Backstage, Sarah lurked in the shadows, face stormy.

Backstage, she "accidentally" bumped into me. "Not bad. Practiced a lot, huh?"

Her tone dripped venom. "But boys hate show-offs. Carson despises attention-seekers."

I smiled. "Really? He seemed very attentive just now."

Her eye twitched. "Girls who 'glow up' overnight? Either plastic surgery or just make-up."

She grabbed a water bottle, "Oops!", and dumped it on my dress.

Luckily, the fabric was waterproof.

Calmly, I pulled a prepared glass of red wine from my bag.

"What are you..."

I flung it. The wine splashed across her pristine white gown, blooming like blood.

"Ahh!"

Sarah shrieked. "This cost a fortune!"

"Don't care."

I leaned in. "Next time, it won't be wine."

She trembled with rage, raising a hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist, squeezing until her tears welled.

"Let her go!"

Carson burst in, playing the hero.

In my previous life, this would've shattered me. Now? Hilarious.

"Carson!" Sarah instantly teared up. "She ruined my dress..."

He looked between us, conflicted. I could see him calculating.

Sarah was his fling, but the "new Clara" was the prize.

"Clara," he finally mediated, "Sarah was wrong, but you shouldn't have..."

"Shouldn't what?" I cut in.

"Defend myself?" I sneered. "Carson, you know what's pathetic? Your spineless neutrality."

He stiffened. No girl had ever called him out.

"And," I added, "real men don't string two girls along."

The blow landed.

His face cycled through shock, anger, then... interest. "You've got me wrong. Sarah and I are just..."

"Colleagues? I know."

I mimicked his tone. "Also, you blink more with your right eye when lying."

I walked off, leaving them speechless.

Around the corner, I froze.

Jeremiah stood there, holding a tissue I'd used.

"Bravo."

He clapped slowly. "I didn't know bunnies could bite."

I snatched the tissue and tossed it. "Creep."

Unfazed, he smiled. "Clara, I'm intrigued."

"Save it."

I rolled my eyes. "Your act doesn't work on me."

"Act?"

He stepped closer, voice a whisper. "You think I care about Sarah? She's a pawn, just like you were to Carson."

My breath hitched.

How did he know?

Jeremiah grinned at my reaction. "We're alike, Clara. Both experts at... wearing masks."

"No."

I backed away. "The difference is, I still have a line."

Outside, the sunset stretched my shadow long.

My phone buzzed. It was a friend request from Carson. [You were breathtaking today.]

I didn't accept. I just screenshotted it and sent it to Sarah's number.

Game on.