The symbols on the board swam before my
eyes.
“One–third.”
A low voice prompted me. “One–third.”
I refused the easy answer. “Mr. Henderson, I
don’t know.”
I grabbed my textbook and walked out.
I saw the surprise in Mark’s eyes.
He’d given me the answer, and I’d rejected it.
I’d been a slacker in my teens, the bottom of
the class. I ended up at a second–rate college
near Mark’s prestigious university. He, of
course, was a renowned scholar.
I’d exploited our childhood friendship, relying
on him for answers in class. I’d even paid him
generously for “tutoring,” a thinly veiled
excuse to give him money.
My blatant favoritism had earned me the label of Mark’s “lapdog.”
But years later, I’d worked alongside him,
transforming from a pampered princess to a
resilient entrepreneur, wiping away tears after
failed pitches and continuing the grind.
Looking at the younger, slightly less hardened
Mark, I felt a mix of emotions, a surge of
resentment.
This time, I wouldn’t repeat the same
mistakes.
After class, my legs ached from standing. I
leaned against the wall.
Mark approached, holding his notebook. His
voice was gentle. “Tired? I’ve explained this
problem so many times. I wrote out the steps
here. Take a look.”
He offered me the open notebook, filled with
his neat red ink notes.
Looking at his handwriting brought back that
cold, windy night, and the five words he’d
scrawled with such desperate love.
Two years ago, Mark’s family had lost
everything overnight. His father vanished, his
mother spiraled into depression. He became
the subject of mockery, the fallen prince
clinging to his pride. Kids targeted him.
I’d been his fierce protector, shielding him
like a mama bear, becoming the target of
ridicule myself.
<
After his death, I’d found his old diary entries
on his phone.
“Lily was a light in my dark life. Jenna just
used her money to humiliate me when I was
at my lowest.”
I didn’t take the notebook. My voice was cold.
“Mark, you don’t have to tutor me anymore. I
won’t insult your fragile ego with tutoring
fees.”
5
Mark paused, his hand still holding the
notebook. The warmth in his eyes faded. His
voice remained gentle. “Don’t be silly. It’s
senior year, who else will tutor you? Or are
you still upset about what I said yesterday
about you being like a little sister?”
Yes, eighteen–year–old Mark knew about my
crush. But yesterday, on the stairwell, he’d
casually told someone, “Jenna? I just see her
as my adorable little sister.”
He reached out to ruffle my hair, a gesture of
affection, his normally sharp features
softened with a tenderness that made me
sick to my stomach.
I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
His fair skin reddened.
He froze.
A commotion erupted in the hallway. Students
rushed towards the main office.
Someone shouted, “A gorgeous new girl just
transferred to our class!”
I checked the date. It was the day.
A crowd of students craned their necks,
peering into the office.
They stared at Lily, gasps of admiration filling
the air.
She truly was stunning.
Slender, oval–faced, with clear, wide eyes,
and long, wavy brown hair cascading over her
shoulders. She exuded an aura of
<
vulnerability.
In my past life, it was this same delicate
beauty that launched her acting career,
making her a star, and capturing Mark’s heart
that summer.
“Lily and Jenna look kind of alike. Who’s
prettier?”
“Lily, obviously. She won a modeling
competition. She’s got the looks and the
brains, unlike Jenna, the spoiled airhead.”
Their voices carried, fueling Lily’s smug smile.
Then, a clear voice beside me: “I think Jenna
is prettier.”
I turned. Mark’s words were casual yet firm.
Everyone stared at him in disbelief. Lily,
inside the office, clearly heard him.
She glared at me, her eyes full of disdain and
assessment. Then, she noticed Mark, tall and
striking, and her eyes lit up with interest. She
bit her lip. “That student doesn’t seem to like
me very much.”
Mark put his hands in his pockets, unfazed. “I
just think my childhood friend is the best.”
I looked up. My reflection shone in his
youthful eyes.
But it was an illusion.
I plastered a sweet smile on my face, and
said to Lily, “He’s lying. He loves girls like
you.”
Loves them enough to die for them, to
abandon everything he worked for.
I turned and walked away, leaving Mark
behind.
Ignoring the stunned silence, the bewildered
stares of everyone around me.
6
I refused Mark’s repeated tutoring offers.
Lily declared war, boldly confessing to Mark
on the first day, “Mark, I like you. It was love
