Tasha’s POV

Jeremy suddenly pushed me away, breaking the kiss so abruptly that my lips tingled with the ghost of it. His breath was heavy, his eyes dark with something that flickered between shock and happiness—something he didn’t want to show.

“What the hell was that for?” he demanded, feigning anger, but I could hear it—the crack in his tone, the confusion laced with an edge of joy he couldn’t quite hide. His mask might’ve been gone, but the walls were still there.

I smiled, unable to stop the small curve of satisfaction tugging at my lips. “Be my boyfriend,” I said sweetly, voice calm but deliberate. The room went silent for a split second before it exploded with murmurs again.

“Oh my God, she’s serious.”

“Did she just ask him out after kissing him?”

“She’s insane.”

“She’s just trying to make Roman jealous.”

“No way Jeremy’s saying yes.”

“She’s going to regret that.”

But I didn’t care, not one bit, because right behind the sea of whispers was Roman—my oh-so-perfect husband from another life—clenching and unclenching his fists like he wanted to punch the air itself. His jaw was tight, his composure slipping in front of everyone, and it was hilarious. The great Roman—the brilliant, the handsome, the arrogant—finally losing his cool. Once, he was the crown prince of this classroom, the one every girl swooned over, but now… now Jeremy had just snatched that title from him. And worse? I was helping him do it.

Jeremy just sat there for a second, unreadable, then without a word, he got up, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked straight out of the room.

Laughter erupted instantly.

The same girl from earlier—the one with too much lip gloss and not enough sense—flipped her hair and said loudly, “Tch, what a loser move. Guess she got dumped before even being accepted.” She turned to her little followers, the ones who copied her every smirk, and snapped her fingers. “Let’s go for lunch. I’m losing brain cells just standing here.”

They all burst out laughing as they left, and soon, one by one, everyone began filing out too, whispering behind their hands, shooting me pity looks and judgmental glances.

That’s when it hit me—lunch break.

Jeremy’s private dining room.

I remembered now. In my first life, he had come up to me on my second day in Golden Stars High, awkward but genuine, asking if I wanted to eat with him in his private dining room. His home chef brought food for him every day, fancy, quiet, perfect. And I… I had laughed at him. Right there in the cafeteria, in front of everyone. Told him I wasn’t desperate enough to eat with my rival. I’d humiliated him. He’d just stood there for a moment, his face expressionless, then turned and walked away.

That night, he didn’t speak to me. The next day, he didn’t even look my way.

I’d been such a fool.

Even though we were rivals, he’d still tried to reach out, still tried to make me feel welcome. And I’d thrown it back in his face. For what? For two snakes who would later ruin me.

Not this time. Not in this life.

I grabbed my bag and turned toward the door, ready to go find him, when I caught sight of Roman leaning against the wall, his eyes dark and furious. His stare burned through me like acid, full of barely restrained rage.

I ignored him and walked toward the exit, but before I could step out, he grabbed my arm harshly, spinning me back to face him. His grip bit into my skin, his voice low and furious. “Enough of this charade, Tasha. You’re not fooling anyone. Stop trying to make me jealous.”

I scoffed, shaking his hand off with a sharp jerk. “And what makes you think I’m trying to make you jealous, Roman?”

He frowned, his voice rising slightly. “Oh, come on, who wouldn’t know? How can you fall in love with your rival in a few minutes? You were chasing after me like a lunatic not less than twenty minutes ago.”

That made me laugh. A low, humourless laugh that caught him off guard. “You’re right,” I said, stepping closer, my eyes boring into his. “I was a lunatic—for wasting years of my life on a self-absorbed bastard like you.”

He stiffened, taken aback, his lips parting as if to respond, but I didn’t give him the chance. I shoved him backward, forcing him to drop into a nearby chair. He looked up at me, startled, as I leaned down slightly, voice cutting like glass. “What I do with my life is none of your damn business, stranger. You said it yourself, remember? You and I don’t know each other.” I smiled coldly. “Seems like you’re the one who can’t keep his word.”

He opened his mouth, but I didn’t wait. I straightened, brushed imaginary dust off my skirt, and turned toward the door. “It’s my life,” I threw over my shoulder, “and I decide what to do with it. So, fuck off.”

His stunned silence behind me was the sweetest sound I’d heard all day.

I walked out without another glance, my heart pounding, my pulse alive with defiance. There was only one place I needed to be right now.

Jeremy’s private dining room.

My heart thudded as I stood before the private dining room. That familiar black door with the golden frame hadn’t changed—still sleek, still cold, still his. For a second, my fingers hesitated above the keypad, memories flashing like an old film reel. The passcode was My birthday.

Of course, I knew that.

Jeremy had set it that way—obsessed, foolishly devoted, in a way I had never understood before. I’d laughed at him once for being too serious, too sentimental. Now, standing here again, the ache of guilt twisted deep in my chest. He had always been there, silently choosing me even when I was too blind chasing someone else’s shadow.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I inhaled, tapped the digits, and the soft click sounded. The door opened.

Jeremy was seated at the long mahogany table, head bent over a book. He looked up instantly—those stormy gray eyes catching mine—and for a fleeting heartbeat, I saw raw emotion flash through him. Shock, then confusion, then a bright smile formed on his lips, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a guarded, stern look.

“What do you want, Tasha?” he asked, voice level but not cold enough to hide the tremor underneath.

“To eat,” I replied simply, stepping in like I owned the place.

His jaw tightened. “Leave. I don’t need you here.”

I ignored him, my eyes darting toward the table. “Then why’s there an extra plate?” I asked, pulling the chair out with deliberate grace.

He froze. He didn’t have to answer. I already knew. The second plate, the exact dish I always ordered when I still pretended not to notice him—it was mine. Everything on that plate screamed me.

I sat down and began eating, slow, unbothered. The clinking of cutlery filled the tense silence. When I lifted my head, I caught him staring—his gaze soft, tender, almost reverent.

“Jeremy,” I whispered, smiling faintly. “It’s okay to smile, you know. You can be happy if you want to.”

He blinked rapidly, color rising on his cheeks as he quickly looked away and focused on his meal like it had suddenly become fascinating. His nervousness was adorable. The way he kept adjusting his grip on the spoon as he stuffed his mouth repeatedly, the slight shake in his hand—it made my heart ache.

Suddenly, he choked and began coughing hard.

“Jeremy!” I gasped, dropping my fork as he coughed violently, chest heaving. I grabbed the glass of water beside him and rushed to his side, patting his back softly, my voice barely a whisper. “Hey, hey, drink this.”

He drank, coughing one last time before catching his breath. Suddenly,he turned to face me and our faces were suddenly inches apart—too close. I could feel his breath brushing against my lips, his heartbeat echoing against mine. His gaze dipped, landing on my lips, and for a second, everything stilled.

Then, just as fast, he stood up abruptly, eyes wide and conflicted. “What the hell are you doing?” he snapped.

I smirked, leaning back slightly. “Trying to seduce you.”

“Stop it, Tasha!” he barked, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Stop the damn charade!”

My smile faltered. “Charade?” I echoed, brows furrowing.

He must have thought I was trying to make Roman jealous again by using him. He stared at me like he didn’t believe a word I said. Like he couldn’t.

“It’s not a charade, Jeremy,” I said softly, rising to my feet. “I know you love me… and I want you too.”

His fists balled at his sides. Then suddenly, before I could move, he grabbed me, slamming me gently but firmly against the table. “Stop toying with me, Tasha! I have emotions too!” His voice cracked as he shouted,

My breath hitched, but I didn’t look away. “I’m not toying with you,” I whispered. “Not this time.”

He stared down at me, trembling, every muscle in his jaw clenched tight. “If you let me break down my walls,” he muttered hoarsely, “I’m never letting you go. Not for Roman. And if you ever go back to him, I swear I’ll shoot him dead and make you love me.”

My chest tightened at the raw pain in his voice. I reached up, brushing my fingers along his cheek. “Don’t talk about Roman,” I said softly. “I don’t want him. I only want you.”

Before I could finish, his lips crashed into mine.

It wasn’t gentle. It was fire—years of anger, hurt, longing all poured into that one kiss. My gasp melted into his mouth as his hands found my hips, pinning me harder to the table. The heat of his touch burned through the fabric of my skirt, tracing up my thighs. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to. For the first time, I wasn’t running or pretending.

Just then the school bell rang and we froze. Our breaths were ragged, hearts pounding in the same rhythm. Slowly, he pulled back, and I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.

“You’re such a bad boy,” I teased breathlessly, brushing his chest lightly. “You just stole my breath away.”

His lips curved into a sly smile. “I could do more,” he murmured.

I laughed, hitting him playfully on the chest. He caught my hand midair, his eyes softening as he pulled me into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered into my hair.

I froze for a second, then smiled sadly against his chest. “No, Jeremy… thank you.”

Because deep down, the memories of the past life still haunted me—the time he’d risked everything for me, the time I’d turned my back on him. This time, I swore I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

He gently pulled away, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Go to class,” he said quietly. “I’ll be out soon.”

I nodded, still smiling, still dizzy from his touch, and walked toward the door. My steps were light, my heart heavier than ever. As I stepped out, I glanced back once.

Jeremy was watching me go,even as I shut the door—his eyes soft, lips curved faintly—before turning back to his seat.