Chapter 4
Summer break slipped by in the blink of an eye. Soon, school began.
Mrs. Smith had already arranged for me to transfer to Westbridge International School—the same elite school both Ethan and I had attended in our previous life. This time, however, I was enrolled alongside Adrian.
On the very first day, I climbed into the car early, waiting. When Adrian opened the door, I beamed.
“Good morning, Adrian. Mom said we’ll be going to school together from now on.”
His movements faltered ever so slightly, but he said nothing, slipping silently into the farthest seat
from me.
The next day, I greeted him again.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
Two months passed like this.
Adrian never once responded to my greetings. Yet one morning, when I had overslept and bolted out of the mansion in a panic, I found him still waiting by the car with his backpack slung over one
shoulder.
Surprised, I slowed, then smiled brightly. “Adrian, you’re the best.”
He cast me a sidelong glance, expression flat as ever, before turning away wordlessly.
But this time, when he climbed into the car, he stepped in with his right foot first.
It was a tiny change.
But it meant everything.
One afternoon after school, I waited by the building for Adrian, but he never showed. His phone
wouldn’t connect either.
An uneasy feeling swept over me.
In my past life, around this very time, I had overheard whispers that the Smith family had run into
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trouble. Someone mentioned that their son had been attacked. Years later, I learned the truth–that Adrian had been deliberately disfigured in high school.
A sick dread settled in my stomach. Was it today?
No time to hesitate.
I shot a message to the driver, telling him to look for us if we weren’t at the front gate. Then I
sprinted toward the alley behind the school.
Please, Adrian. Don’t let it happen.
I rounded the corner and my heart dropped.
Adrian stood cornered against a wall by a group of thugs.
“Haha, the little Smith prince really is a mute. No matter how much we hit him, he won’t make a
sound.”
“Yeah, he won’t rat us out. What’s a mute gonna do–complain to his mommy?”
“Damn, look at him glare a
me! You got a problem, freak?”
One of them spat at his shoes, then pulled out a box cutter, aiming it toward Adrian’s face.
My breath caught.
A baseball bat lay discarded on the ground nearby.
Without thinking, I snatched it up, adrenaline flooding my veins.
“I’ve already called the cops!” I shouted, charging into the group
and swinging wildly.
The thugs hadn’t expected resistance, let alone from me. Caught off guard, they stumbled back, a few yelping as my bat cracked against their shins.
“She’s bluffing,” one snarled. “There’s no sirens!”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s bail. This kid’s cursed anyway.”
Grumbling curses, they began to scatter.
I tossed the bat aside and rushed to Adrian. His face was streaked with blood where the knife had
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nicked him, though thankfully the cut was shallow. Bruises covered his arms and legs.
“Adrian, hold on. I’ll get you home.”
I tried to help him up, but someone kicked me hard from behind. I fell to the ground, crying out in
pain.
“Lying bitch,” one of the thugs growled. “She didn’t call the cops at all!”
A boot crashed into my ribs, pain exploding through my body. I curled in on myself instinctively, but my gaze locked with Adrian’s wide, terrified eyes.
Forcing a smile, I whispered hoarsely, “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”
Adrian’s stare sharpened.
The next moment, the boy who had remained passive until now suddenly snapped. He lunged forward, sinking his teeth into one thug’s arm.
The sudden ferocity stunned them. But there were too many of them. They slammed him to the
ground, fists and iron rods raining down.
No. Not again.
Not this ending.
Desperation clawed at me. I threw myself at one man, clinging to his leg even as he kicked me
brutally.
“Don’t you dare hurt my brother!” I screamed.
He laughed cruelly, his voice ringing in my ears.
But just as another blow was about to land, footsteps echoed from the mouth of the alley.
“Hey, who’s there?” one thug barked.
I forced my eyes open, vision swimming with blood. All I could make out was a pair of white sneakers, haloed by the glow of the setting sun.
Hope flickered in my chest. The driver…?
But then a familiar voice called from a distance.
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“Ethan, what are you doing? The strawberry shortcake is over here!”
The sneakers paused.
“…Coming.”
Through the haze of blood and tears, I whispered weakly, “Ethan…”
The boy’s footsteps faltered.
