TASHA’S POV

Suddenly I heard those same familiar voices again, the ones I could never forget, slicing through the fog of my mind like razors—Elsa’s and Roman’s.

“Don’t act like we know each other,” Roman’s voice rang, arrogant and sharp, “and no matter how hard you try, Tasha, I would never date or love you.”

Then Elsa’s voice followed, sweetly poisonous as ever. “And sis,” she sneered, “remember you need to sign me in for class today while I go for dance practice. If you don’t, I’ll make you regret ever being born.”

My eyes snapped open and I gasped. I looked around wildly, my breath catching in my throat. The air was different—lighter, younger, cleaner. I blinked again and froze.

I was in a school.

My school.

The familiar blue-and-white checkered uniform clung to my body, and the faint chatter of students echoed down the hall. I looked down at myself, at my trembling hands. I was wearing the uniform of Golden Stars High School.

But how?

Wasn’t I just… dead?

Elsa barked suddenly, her voice grating against my ears. “Didn’t you hear me, loser?”

I turned slowly, My lips parted, but I said nothing. I didn’t trust my voice.

I turned away, my heart pounding, looking for someone, anyone who could explain this madness, but there was only a girl walking past, her ponytail bouncing as she clutched her books. I rushed toward her, grabbing her arm, my words tumbling out in panic. “Please—what’s today’s date? What year is it?”

She blinked, confused. “Uh… Friday, 11th January, 2015.”

2015.

The world tilted. My breath caught as I turned toward the mirror on the wall beside the lockers—and my reflection hit me like a storm. My face… my face. It was whole, smooth, young, and the scar was gone.

Tears filled my eyes as I touched my cheek, trembling. I had transmigratedm to one year earlier. The Almighty really gave me a second chance.

11th January… I remembered this day. It was the day we chose our seats in class, the day everything started—the little things that led to my downfall, to Roman, to Elsa, to destruction.

In Golden High, it was accustomed that you pick a seat at the end of the first week, one arrives, after testing the available empty seats and seat partners.

“Are you deaf?” Elsa’s shrill voice tore me back to the moment, her words buzzing like an irritating mosquito near my ear.

I turned slowly, my composure sliding into place like armour. “Maybe you’re blind, Elsa,” I said softly, with a smile that wasn’t a smile, “if you can’t see that I’m ignoring you. And maybe keep your voice down unless you want everyone to know your soft-girl act’s fake.”

Her face drained of colour instantly, the boldness fading from her eyes. I smirked, brushing past her shoulder deliberately, feeling that tiny spark of power I never had before. But halfway through, I stopped, turning toward Roman.

He looked the same too—cocky, tall, and too sure of himself, he held that straight emotionless face. I stared at him long enough for silence to stretch. “Mr Man,” I said calmly, “I’ll honour your wish, but remember it. You and I do not know each other.”

And with that, I walked into class, my shoes clicking against the tiled floor.

I stopped at the doorway, my eyes locking on the teacher standing at the board. She looked at me, brows raised. “Tasha, where did you go?”

“I went to the restroom,” I said simply, and moments later Elsa and Roman strolled in behind me, late as usual, but of course, the teacher didn’t question them. She never did.

As I walked to my desk, I almost laughed thinking about how pathetic I’d been before, chasing after Roman like a lovesick fool, begging for crumbs of attention, blind to the snake I was feeding. The thought alone made my stomach twist with disgust.

“Alright, class, it’s time for Tasha to pick her seat partner for the term.” The teacher’s voice broke through my thoughts.

That was it—the moment. I already knew who I’d pick.

My eyes wandered to the back of the room, and there he was. Jeremy. Head on his desk, hoodie up, mask covering half his face, his entire energy radiating I-don’t-give-a-damn. The same Jeremy who’d crashed through my window and died trying to save me.

My heart clenched, but I smiled.

I walked past every other empty seat, ignoring the curious stares, and stopped beside him. I turned to the teacher and said, “Here, teacher. I’ll sit here.”

The entire class went dead silent. Then the murmurs started.

“Is she crazy?”

“Does she have a death wish?”

“She’s sitting with him?”

Their whispers circled the room like bees. Jeremy, the boy everyone avoided, the one they called a demon, untouchable. No one dared sit beside him. No one but me.

The teacher hesitated, then nodded with a shrug. “If that’s your choice, Miss Tasha.”

As soon as she left, I gathered my bag and moved my things from my old desk to the one beside him. The noise around me rose again, but I ignored it, every movement deliberate.

Jeremy slowly lifted his head, his eyes blank as they met mine, then he scoffed and turned away, laying his head back down. He thought I was playing games, trying to start another rivalry like before.

Not this time.

I leaned closer and gently turned his face toward me. His body stiffened. “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered, voice low.

I didn’t answer. My heart was pounding as I reached up and tugged at the mask covering half his face, pulling it off.

Gasps exploded through the classroom.

For the first time, everyone saw him—really saw him. His sharp jawline, the sculpted symmetry of his face, the quiet danger in his eyes. He was handsome—the kind of handsomeness that silences rooms. Murmurs broke out, louder now, girls whispering to each other, “He’s so hot,” “Oh my God, he’s so fucking handsome,” “I want him to be my boyfriend.”

Roman’s jaw tightened from across the room, his pride cracking, and Elsa’s fake smile faltered.

Just then one of the bold girls—the class’s self-proclaimed “it girl”—walked toward us, her heels clicking, her tone sweet but venomous. “Sorry for ignoring you all this while, Jerry,” she said, her voice dripping flirtation. She held out her phone like an offering. “Can I have your social media handle? Maybe we can vibe, and you could be my man.”

Jeremy said nothing, his expression unreadable.

But I could feel Elsa’s glare burning from behind, and Roman’s rage simmering like fire.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the girl. “No, he doesn’t want your social media handle,” I said, voice steady. “And he doesn’t need a girlfriend. He already has one.”

The girl turned sharply, her eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t talking to you, bitch,” she spat. “If I were you, I’d fuck off before someone puts you back in your place. Stop stealing other people’s men.”

I smiled slowly, tilting my head. “Oh really? Are you sure he’s other people’s man?”

And before she could blink, I grabbed Jeremy by the collar and pulled him closer, my lips crashing into his. The whole room gasped.

The world blurred—the whispers, the shock, the chaos—and all I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears as I kissed him, not out of impulse, but out of defiance, out of fire, out of the second chance fate had thrown my way.

This time, I wasn’t the victim.

This time, I was rewriting everything.