The day my brother died, his Ivy League acceptance letter arrived in the mail. My mother suffered a sudden heart attack, and my father got into a severe car crash rushing home. Meanwhile, Serena—the girl my brother had worshipped and ruined his life for—was sitting in a neon-lit bar, casually bragging about how two boys were fighting over her like some teen drama. I stormed into that bar with a switchblade. The exact moment I plunged it toward Serena, time rewound. I was pulled back to my junior year of high school. Back when my brother was still the untouchable, straight-A golden boy of our school. Nothing had happened yet. 1 It was only a moment's daze before the chaotic noise of the bar shifted into the sharp ring of the school bell. My body was still holding the exact posture of gripping the knife, but the object in my hand was now a black ballpoint pen. And at this very moment, it was stabbed directly into the hoodie of another boy. It was Damon. The undisputed bad boy of the school, the son of a state senator, and one of Serena’s many obsessive suitors. In my previous life, on the day of the tragedy, he led a group of guys to corner my brother in an alley over Serena. My brother died under the frantic knife strikes of one of those street thugs. The coroner's report stated a single blade pierced his chest. And Damon? Afterward, he simply stated, "I didn't know the guy brought a knife," and used his father's political weight to wash his hands of the entire murder. He looked down at the pen jabbing into his chest, then back up at me, his face devoid of expression. He just coldly asked, "Can I help you?" My brother’s corpse, my mother’s wailing, and my father whom I never got to see one last time. The memories crashed against my temples. I glared at him, fighting with everything I had to suppress my trembling hands so I wouldn't lunge forward and snap his neck. Damon’s brows furrowed. He was just about to say something when Mr. Harris, our history teacher, barked an order that silenced the room. "Class has started! What's going on in the back?!" I snapped back to reality and looked around, instantly spotting the girl standing on the podium next to the teacher. "Damon, Riley, get back to your seats. "Let me introduce the new transfer student joining our class this semester, Serena." I walked back to my desk like a zombie, watching the gazes in the room gravitate toward Serena. She was pale, petite, with incredibly delicate features. The sunlight slanting across the podium stretched her shadow, making her look picture-perfect. With a sweet smile and a cunning glint in her eyes, Serena gave a flawless introduction before the teacher pointed her to the empty seat right next to mine. It wasn't until she followed the exact routine of my memory, walked up to me under everyone's watchful eyes, and brightly said "Hi," that I was completely certain. I had actually traveled back in time. I was back to the beginning of junior year, the exact time Serena transferred to our school, and the starting point of our nightmare. In the days to come, she would use her enviable beauty and soft, helpless persona to become the school's It-girl. She would aggressively entangle herself with my brother until she lived in his heart. She went from being the unattainable crush of every boy to the fatal scar on my brother's soul. And Evan—my brilliant brother who died in a pool of blood—became her favorite trophy. The golden boy who fell from grace, threw away his future, and died just for her. Unlike the first time we met, when I genuinely admired her beauty and was happy to be her friend, this time, I just rested my head on my hand and gave her a sideways glance. I looked up, stared dead into her eyes, and gave a fake, hollow smile. "Nice to meet you." Since I had a second chance, I was definitely going to "treat her nice." 2 During class, Serena held a palm-sized mirror, constantly adjusting her blonde hair. I just stared out the window, lost in thought. I was originally the type of student who buried my head in textbooks, ignoring the parties and the drama. Even though Evan’s grades were stellar, he was always ranked just behind me. Coming back to junior year, the AP material the teacher was lecturing on was stuff I only needed a quick glance to master. Because of this tunnel vision, when I found out Evan was dating in my past life, I gossiped for a minute and then brushed it off. A popular girl and a star student. It didn't seem controversial. Even when he started smoking and drinking with Serena, and his GPA began to slip, I only mocked him in my head—thinking boys blinded by love just get what they deserve. But those thoughts became a curse. Evan died. He died on the exact day of our eighteenth birthday. Mom always said that when we were born, we were only one minute apart. That day, he made his final phone call to me. He said he had waited in line for an hour just to get the limited-edition cupcakes I loved. By the time I rushed to the scene, Evan's body had already been taken away. In that alley, beside the crushed cupcakes, was a large bouquet of baby's breath, trampled into the dirty asphalt. They were my favorite flowers. There are millions of love-struck teenagers in the world. Some get lost, some go crazy, but they rarely end up dead. And even if they do, that person was never going to be my brother. Fate gave me a chance to start over, and I was going to change the ending that shattered my family. I was going to pull my brother Evan out of the abyss and back into his bright, brilliant eighteenth year. The moment the bell rang, a crowd flocked around my and Serena's desks, all of them eager to win her favor. I was sandwiched between Serena and her new fan club. Damon even leaned one hand heavily on my desk, leaning right across me to tap on Serena's desk. With a tone he clearly thought was cool and casual, he asked: "Wanna grab lunch together later?" I cringed so hard I involuntarily rolled my eyes, cursing him as an idiot in my head. A second later, Damon's cold gaze snapped to my face. I didn't care what he thought about my eye roll, nor did I care if I offended him. I had something much more important to do. I stood up, aggressively shoved my way through the crowd, and headed toward the classroom next door—Evan's AP Physics class. Standing at the door, I frantically scanned the room for him. Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder, and a familiar, cool voice dropped into my ear: "Looking for me?" I turned around. Evan was standing there holding a hydro flask, lazily raising an eyebrow at me. I had never looked at him with such intense focus. This Evan right in front of me—he was alive. His varsity jacket hugged his growing frame, his jawline was sharp, and his shadow, cast by the sunlight, completely enveloped me. Seeing me speechless, he frowned and waved a hand in front of my face. "What's wrong?" My nose stung. I looked down, rubbed my eyes, and when I looked back up, my face was covered in tears. "Evan..." I desperately fought the urge to throw my arms around him. I opened my mouth, but my throat was so tight I couldn't make a sound. Evan froze in shock. He quickly wiped away my tears, his fingertips cool against my skin. He switched to a gentle, serious tone: "Tell me. What happened?" I forced a smile that looked worse than crying, choking out: "Nothing. Let's just go home early today. I miss Mom and Dad." Evan laughed in disbelief. "Are you in kindergarten? Why are you being such a baby?" He placed a hand on my back, pulling me into a comforting half-hug. "Alright, we'll leave right after the last bell." Confirming that Evan was perfectly normal lifted the massive weight off my chest. I chatted with him for another second before turning to head back to class. But the moment I turned, Serena was walking up to us with a beaming smile. "Desk-mate! I wanted to ask if you'd walk with me to the counselor's office." She flashed her dimples, intimately looping her arm through mine, and blinked innocently at Evan standing behind me. "Is this your boyfriend? He's so handsome. Can I hang out with you guys later?" 3 I glanced back at Evan. He was frowning, looking at me with pure confusion. He was clearly weirded out by the "boyfriend" comment. I smiled at him, then turned my head and deadpanned to Serena: "No. "My brother doesn't like girls who reek of cheap perfume." The moment the words left my mouth, Serena's face contorted as if she’d eaten a lemon. She subtly ducked her head to sniff herself. Confirming she didn't smell bad, the corners of her mouth dropped, her expression turned cold, yet her words remained playing the victim: "...Riley, today is my first day at this school. I really hoped we could get along. "If I offended you somehow, please just tell me straight, instead of attacking me out of nowhere." A sincere expression, polite phrasing, neither overly humble nor aggressive. She looked like a fragile white flower shivering in the cold wind but standing tall. I mirrored her posture, looking just as sincere. "Huh? How did I attack you? You really do have a strong smell..." I even turned to Evan and blinked. "Right, Evan? Didn't you smell it?" Suddenly put on the spot, Evan gave me a helpless look and had no choice but to play along. "Yeah... I guess a little..." "Right? It smells exactly like that expired, two-faced green tea stuff sitting in the back of our pantry." I grinned at her. Serena's face was completely drained of color. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and the light vanished from her gaze as she looked at Evan. With her cheeks burning red, she spun around and sprinted back into the classroom. I watched her back and let out a cold scoff, only to get a light flick on the forehead from Evan. He looked at me with a scrutinizing gaze. "Why are you picking on the new girl?" I interpreted that as Evan instinctively protecting Serena. Flashbacks from my previous life surged into my mind, and an overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me. My tone grew harsh: "What? Does your heart ache for her? Then why did you play along with me just now? Go comfort her if you care so much." Evan's face showed sheer bewilderment. After a moment, his expression darkened, and his voice dropped. "You're acting really weird today. "That girl's perfume was a bit strong, I was just telling the truth. "If someone bullied you, tell me. But if you're just throwing a tantrum at random people, do whatever you want." With that, Evan turned and headed back to his class. I regulated my breathing. Right before the bell rang, I called out to his back: "I just don't like her! And if you ever fall for her, you are no longer my brother!" 4 I walked back into class, feeling hollow. Since we were kids, Evan and I rarely fought or spoke to each other so aggressively. I also knew that blindly attacking Serena in front of him was a terrible strategy. After all, I was the only one with the perspective of the future. Thinking back, I was the one who personally handed Serena over to Evan. When my beautiful, friendly new desk-mate asked, "Can I hang out with you guys later?" for the first time, I had accepted her without a second thought. From then on, she walked to school with us, ate lunch with us, day after day. The way Serena looked at my brother grew increasingly sticky. She would even intercept love letters from other girls, reading them to him in her sickly-sweet voice, watching his ears turn red before delivering a perfectly calculated, flirtatious remark. They started going out on weekends more and more, and Evan's class rank plummeted. Meanwhile, I was locked away in my ivory tower of academics, completely oblivious—thinking, let them date. If I'm the only one getting straight A's, Mom and Dad will just buy me a better car. How could the me from back then have known how it would end? The bell rang. Next period was P.E. The students were filtering out of the classroom. I grabbed an AP Calculus worksheet, planning to sit in the bleachers and do it. But I found someone sitting in my seat. Damon was lazily flipping through my test papers. I walked right up to him, but he didn't even lift his head. I reached out, snatched the paper from his hand, and spat out two icy words: "Get up." Damon finally deigned to look up at me, his eyes full of mockery. "Look at the nerd. Playing hard to get?" I ignored him and repeated: "Get up." Damon decided to be even more stubborn. He leaned back, putting his full weight onto my backpack, and let out a hearty laugh. "I heard you're pretty tough. Made the new girl cry. "Are you trying this hard to get my attention?" I stared at him in silence for two seconds, then smiled. "Yeah. I just love watching her cry. And I love it even more when she cries and her little lapdogs trip over themselves trying to bite people for her. "It gives me this... fascinating thrill of watching pathetic creatures perform." Damon's face instantly shifted, a layer of frost settling over his features. He stood up violently, grabbing my chin with a crushing grip. He glared at me, studying me with an unfamiliar gaze, before suddenly laughing—a complex, dark sound. "Riley, it seems we didn't know each other well enough before. "I suddenly think that starting right now, we can get to know each other properly." The very next second, he hissed in pain and released me. I had grabbed a box cutter from the desk and sliced a deep gash across his hand. I shoved him hard, making him stumble back into the chair. I looked down at him. "Sorry, I don't deal with idiots." I picked up my worksheet, shoved a pen into my pocket, and walked away. 5 During P.E., I experienced Damon’s "sincerity" in wanting to get to know me. Even with a bandaged hand, he was still the undisputed king of the basketball court. Ignoring the icy glares he shot my way, I focused solely on mentally mapping out the solution to the final calculus problem. However, the basketballs repeatedly flying in my direction forced me to pay attention to the court. On the final throw, I scanned the area, bent down pretending to tie my shoe, and subtly adjusted my position. The basketball in Damon's hands flew toward me in a perfect, aggressive arc. I tilted my head, dodging it by an inch. A split second later, a loud, dull thud of a basketball hitting flesh echoed behind me, followed by a piercing scream. "Ahhh!" The scattered groups of girls rushed past me, and the boys on the court stopped running, looking our way. The source of the scream—Serena—was covering her face, sobbing quietly. Seeing this, practically the entire class swarmed her, rushing to comfort the fragile flower. Only Damon stopped a few paces away from the crowd, silently staring at me. Seeing that I was looking back, he mouthed the words: "On purpose?" The girls were already chattering, defending Serena. "What kind of psycho throws a ball like that? If you've got that kind of aim, go draft for the NBA!" "It was Damon! I literally saw him throw it right at her!" The boys, however, guiltily defended their "alpha," trying to change the subject. "Stop talking, let's just get Serena to the nurse." "It was obviously an accident, alright?" Damon stood with his arms crossed, not saying a word, his face looking terrible. He shot me another unreadable look, finally walked forward, stopped in front of Serena, and said stiffly: "I'll take you to the nurse." Serena’s eyelashes were wet and red. She forced a tragic, beautiful smile, looking incredibly pitiful. "It's okay, Damon. I believe you didn't mean it. It doesn't hurt that much. Everyone, please don't be mad at him." "What do you mean he didn't mean it? Can't he even say a simple 'I'm sorry'?" "Exactly. He was just hitting on people earlier, now he thinks he's too good to apologize?" Her "he didn't mean it" sparked another wave of whispers. The girls chimed in one by one, stabbing right at Damon's ego. Finally, Damon let out a furious, "Shut up!" that instantly silenced the gym. Even Serena was startled, her eyes widening in confusion as she looked at him. Damon’s face was like ice. He completely ignored Serena, bent his long arm down, scooped up the basketball, and walked straight back to the court. Most of the boys scrambled to follow him. Seeing Serena’s disappointed expression and the fleeting shadow in her eyes, I sneered internally. She prided herself on being smooth. She thought that by lowering herself, she could trigger Damon's guilt and solidify her perfect, innocent persona. She had no idea that a guy like Damon—arrogant and full of himself—would only apologize if he wanted to. Being forced onto the moral high ground and bullied into an apology? He hated that. His initial interest in her was just the primal instinct of a teenage boy looking at a pretty girl. But making him the target of everyone's criticism? It only triggered his rebellious disgust. He was just a trash guy with a fragile ego. Realizing she wasn't getting Damon's apology or concern, Serena couldn't be bothered to act anymore. She stood up briskly, perfectly fine, and stared thoughtfully in Damon's direction. After school, while I was packing my bag, Evan was already waiting at the door of my classroom. He leaned casually against the lockers, drawing the attention of several girls. Evan's cold demeanor wasn't a pose; he just genuinely didn't care. His eyes softened as he waved in my direction, signaling me to hurry. I slung my backpack over one shoulder. Before leaving, I purposely glanced at Serena's desk—empty. Stepping into the hall, I realized Evan wasn't in a rush to leave. He stayed leaning against the lockers, pretending to look at me coldly. "What?" I urged. "Aren't we leaving?" "I'm waiting for my sister. Who are you?" he said casually. I realized he was still hung up on what I said at noon. I nodded cooperatively and turned to walk away. "Then I'm going to find my brother. Bye." Evan finally dropped the act, followed behind me, took the backpack off my shoulder, and swung it onto his own. Then he threw a long arm around my neck, dragging me into a rough headlock. His voice was still tinged with annoyance. "You get into a fight with someone and suddenly you don't want your brother anymore, is that it? "I don't even know that girl. You made up that whole thing about me liking her out of nowhere." My heart sank slightly. I was terrified that the Evan of this timeline would repeat his past mistakes, but I had forgotten he naturally kept people at arm's length. I probed hesitantly, "So when you saw her, what did you think of her?" Evan looked even more exasperated but answered honestly: "Just a very average girl." His expression was open. He wasn't lying. Serena was definitely not "average," but Evan had never cared much about looks. Growing up, he had rejected countless girls, many of them gorgeous. If he said she was average, it meant Serena hadn't left any impression on him yet. In my past life, it was only after being bombarded by her constant sugar-coated affection that he developed feelings—and it was me who let the wolf into the house to begin with. Hearing his answer, I let out a sigh of relief. My whole body relaxed. I linked my arm through his and started skipping down the stairs—just like we did when we were little. Evan dropped his annoyance and laughed, calling me a child. However, mid-skip, I accidentally bumped into someone. Damon was holding a basketball with one hand, slightly sweaty, apparently just done with practice. He stared blankly at Evan, then glanced at my hand linked through Evan's arm. He gave a half-smile. "Playing house?" I instinctively tried to step in front of Evan, but he pulled me behind him. Evan smiled, looking completely normal, and said, "My bad, man." He tried to pull me past him. But Damon stuck his arm out, blocking us. His tone was icy: "Aren't you going to apologize?" On the back of his hand was a glaring, fresh cut—the one I had given him that morning. Evan frowned, just about to speak, but I laughed first and said sweetly: "I'm so sorry, Damon." Damon froze, seemingly incapable of imagining me being so submissive. A flash of mockery crossed my eyes. I reached out, grabbed his hand, gently stroked the wound, and then dug my fingernails deep into his flesh. The slightly scabbed wound tore open instantly, bleeding again. Damon's face twisted in pain. He tried to rip his hand away, but I gripped it tighter. Does it hurt? It was merely a fraction of what my brother felt. "Fuck!" Just as Damon dropped the basketball and raised his other hand, I let go. I lowered my eyes, matching his gaze. My eyes were venomous as I whispered: "You should watch where you're walking, Damon. You wouldn't want me to bump into you again." 6 Perhaps because I made zero effort to hide my hostility, Damon's eyes held more shock and confusion than anger. He clearly couldn't understand why a quiet nerd who had barely spoken two words to him in two years harbored such overwhelming hatred toward him. I stopped looking at him and let Evan pull me away. The movements were subtle; Evan didn't notice the exchange. He just turned his head and complained: "Why are you calling everyone by their first name like you're close to them?" I hummed a tune, in a great mood, and didn't answer. Walking out of the school gates and approaching an alley near campus, I clearly heard strange noises coming from the shadows. Crying, cursing, and the sharp crack of a slap. I frowned. Something wasn't right. Evan exchanged a look with me, told me to stay put, and walked into the alley alone. As if I would listen. I followed right behind him. The alley was long and narrow, backing up to a set of dilapidated, abandoned apartments. The closer we got, the louder the laughter and crying became. Finally, in the courtyard of an unfinished building, I saw Serena squatting on the ground sobbing, surrounded by a group of girls. Serena's hair was a mess, her face stained with tears. The leader, a girl with dyed streaks, poured a can of soda over her head. The liquid dripped down her hair, soaking through her modified, tight-fitting uniform shirt, highlighting her figure. The girls crouched in front of her, lightly slapping her face and laughing loudly. "What are you doing?!" Evan couldn't just walk away. He grabbed a piece of rusty rebar from the ground and said calmly: "I already called the cops. They're on their way." Serena looked like she had seen her savior. She stumbled forward, throwing herself into Evan's arms, gripping his waist tightly. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing and trembling like a frightened rabbit. The bullies' arrogance vanished. They looked panicked, constantly checking the entrance, seemingly genuinely afraid the police would arrive. Finally, the leader pointed at Serena and barked, "You got lucky this time. Don't let me catch you again." With that, she and her followers hurried away. I stood behind Evan, watching this "bullying" with a blank expression. I stared quietly at the leader as she brushed past me. I flashed her a grin and whispered: "Long time no see." The leader gave me a bewildered look, didn't say a word, and hurried off. Of course I hadn't forgotten her. This was Roxy. The very same girl who, in the neon bar, stood next to Serena, listening to her brag about her "player strategies," and laughed the loudest. Evan looked stiffly at Serena in his arms. He awkwardly patted her back, saying gently, "It's okay, don't be scared. They're gone." Serena looked up. Even soaked in tears, her face was perfectly beautiful. There was no red slap mark, not even a trace of swelling. She looked at him with pitiful eyes. "Could you take me to the hospital?" Evan hesitated. He looked back at me. I gave a radiant smile. "Why go to the hospital? Let's just go straight to our house, it's right nearby. I'll check you for injuries."
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