The day Zack Reed confessed to the pretty transfer student, everyone thought I’d lose it. Cry, scream, make a scene, maybe even crash his big moment and embarrass myself in front of everyone. But I didn’t. I didn’t even show up. While Zack was busy declaring his love for Olivia, I was sitting on his roommate’s bed, wrapped in Simon Yates’ oversized hoodie, staring at the wet mess I’d made. “I got your bed all wet,” I grumbled, tugging at the damp fabric clinging to me. “What are you gonna do now? Sleep on the floor?” Simon looked anywhere but at me. His jaw tensed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he handed me a towel. “Dry your hair,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll change the sheets later.” Zack had planned his confession like it was the event of the year. He made everyone swear not to tell me. Like that was going to work. Secrets don’t stay secrets for long around here, especially not juicy ones like this. And everyone knew about my massive crush on Zack. The way I’d followed him around since middle school, convinced he was my happily-ever-after. So when word got out, people assumed I’d show up, tears streaming, ready to cause a scene. But when Zack finally confessed to Olivia, the new transfer student with her perfect smile and long, shiny hair, I wasn’t there. The crowd, three rows deep, started to lose interest. Even Zack looked distracted. With his arm draped around Olivia, he pulled out his phone and checked it. Once. Twice. No messages. His jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. “Drinks are on me tonight!” he called out. “Everyone’s invited!” The cheers were half-hearted, the buzz already dying. The drama they’d been hoping for never came. That’s when I stepped out from behind the trees. “Lola!” someone shouted, and just like that, the whispers started. “See? I told you she’d show up.” “Bet she’s here to start something.” Zack’s head snapped up. His gaze locked on me, and for a split second, I saw something flicker in his eyes. Relief? Triumph? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t care. Ignoring the crowd, ignoring Olivia’s curious stare, I walked straight up to Zack. “Lola,” he said, his voice calm but tight. He pulled Olivia closer, like she was some kind of shield. “You can’t force feelings,” he began, the words careful and rehearsed. “We’ve been friends forever, and I don’t want to ruin that. You’ll always be like a sister to me.” Then, in a low voice, he added, “Don’t make a scene, okay? Just go home.” “Zack,” I interrupted, taking a step closer. His brow furrowed. “Lola—” I smiled faintly, reaching for the bracelet on my wrist. It slipped off easily, cold and familiar in my hand. “I’m just here to give this back,” I said, holding it out to him. His expression hardened, confusion flashing into irritation. “What’s this supposed to mean?” “It’s yours,” I said simply. “Take it. After this, I’m done.” His tone turned cold. “I don’t care about some cheap bracelet.” “Good,” I replied, my voice light. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.” I turned and tossed the bracelet into the nearest trash can, the metal clinking against the plastic. “You can throw out the rest of my stuff too,” I said over my shoulder, loud enough for the crowd to hear. Then I walked away without looking back. By the time I reached the river, rain was coming down in sheets, the sound of it blending with the rushing water. I stood there, umbrella in hand, staring at the current. The dreams I’d been having lately replayed in my mind, each one more vivid than the last. In those dreams, Zack’s confession had destroyed me. I’d cried, begged, made a fool of myself. That night, I’d jumped into the river, desperate for him to care. But he didn’t. He visited me in the hospital for all of five minutes before walking away like I was nothing. The Whites, my foster family, had been mortified. To them, I was a burden, an embarrassment. They made me drop out of school and sent me back to my birth parents, strangers with their own problems and vices. It only went downhill from there. I spiraled, hit rock bottom, and died alone in some foreign country. After I died, the person who painstakingly gathered my broken remains wasn’t Zack, as I once foolishly hoped. It was Simon, the one I’d always avoided, the one I thought I’d feared. Zack, freshly married and glowing with happiness, didn’t even bother to show up. Lately, the events in my dreams have started bleeding into reality, piece by terrifying piece. If not for those dreams, I’d probably be calling Zack right now. Crying, begging, pleading. Maybe even threatening to end it all. Then I’d jump into the river. But the dreams gave me something precious: clarity. A second chance. Now I can rewrite the story, change my fate one choice at a time.