Chapter 1
The needy student I sponsored hid a notebook under her pillow.
It was packed with dates.
I didn't understand why until after I died. Every checked date matched an accident I'd had.
When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to March 7th.
She was standing by my desk, holding a bottle of medicine and smiling at me.
"Emily, your allergy meds are almost gone. I put a new bottle in your drawer," she said.
I didn't confront her right away.
Because on the last page of the notebook, there was a line I couldn't understand.
*****
Then I looked at the bottle in Yolanda Wynn's hand.
It was a white, round bottle, almost the same as the Imported Claritin I used.
But the label had an extra line of text: Vitamin C.
I never paid attention to details like that before.
I casually placed it in the medicine kit, and during pollen season, I took it for half a month.
Then the allergic reaction hit me hard, and I ended up in the hospital.
"Emily, you don't look well."
Yolanda tilted her head, her eyes moist.
I took the bottle and set it on the desk, not in my medicine kit.
"From now on, don't buy my medicine or touch anything on my desk." I said.
Yolanda's lips trembled.
"Did I do something wrong? Tell me, I'll fix it." she whispered.
Tears came, her voice fading into soft sobs.
Then the door opened.
Charles Fern stood in the doorway, and the moment he saw Yolanda crying, his face darkened.
"Emily, what's going on? Are you picking on Yolanda again?" he asked.
I looked at him.
I'd liked him for two years in my past life.
He was tall, handsome, and the student council president.
But whenever I was in trouble, he always rushed to protect Yolanda first.
"Charles, we're done." I said.
"What?" He asked.
"We're breaking up right now." I sad peacefully.
Yolanda grabbed my arm.
"Emily, don't be impulsive! You and Charles have such a good relationship. Don't break up because of me!" she pleaded.
I looked down at her hand on my arm.
Her nails were perfectly trimmed and clean.
In my previous life, when she secretly swapped labels in the lab, this hand had worn rubber gloves, using tweezers to carefully peel off the labels and replace them.
That wasn't something a timid liberal arts student would do.
"Let go," I said.
Yolanda withdrew her hand.
I grabbed my bag and left the dorm.
Charles shouted from behind, "Emily Branch, what's this about? Don't come back if you leave!"
I didn't stop.
After leaving the dorm, I sat on a bench in the garden for ten minutes to calm down.
Then I returned to the dorm and borrowed a spare key from Grace Linden, my friend in the room next door.
When Yolanda wasn't around, I quietly entered the dorm again.
I walked over to Yolanda's bed.
Her things were few, and the bed was immaculately made.
I checked under her pillow.
In my last life, just before I died, I saw her holding a notebook.
I reached under her pillow, my fingertips brushed against a hard cover.
I pulled it out.
It was an ordinary black notebook.
I opened it.
It was filled with dates.
She was planning to kill me.
From March to June, step by step, methodically.
I was about to close the notebook when I suddenly noticed a small asterisk next to the date May 18th.
In tiny handwriting, it said three words.
[She will come.]
Who was she?' I thought.
Was there someone else involved besides Yolanda in her plan?' I wondered.
I took photos of each page of the notebook.
Then I placed it back under the pillow, exactly as it had been.
When I left the dorm, it was already dark.
I stood by the window in the hallway, staring at the dates on my phone.
March 12th, five days later.
In my last life, I got hospitalized because of a pollen allergy.
This time, I was determined to see what "surprise" Yolanda had prepared for me.