After His Awakening

Stanley Meyer's eyes were dark as he looked at me. A suggestive trace of moisture still lingered on his thin lips.

I avoided his gaze, lowered my eyes, and took a sip of wine. Bitterness spread from my throat into my chest.

Tina West's face was full of amusement. With a knowing look, she said, "Dawn, you're really generous, but I've been abroad for years, so I can't quite tell whether your kindness is genuine or just an act."

The others quickly joined in.

"Yeah, Dawn is always going on about leading men and women, isn't she? She even said Stanley would definitely marry her and they'd grow old happily together!"

I dug my nails into my palm and tried to keep my voice calm as I said, "Those are just some childish jokes from when I was young and foolish. Just take it as a passing amusement.

"I see clearly now that Mr. Meyer and Ms. West are truly made for each other. A perfect match in every way."

Stanley let out a scoff and looked over at me with disdain.

"Is that so? Dawn, you'd better not be trying anything funny."

There was a clear warning in his tone.

I smiled bitterly and raised my glass, saying, "To show I mean it, I'll down three drinks to cheer for your love."

The alcohol scorched my throat as I downed glass after glass. A searing pain began to spread through my stomach.

Most of the people there knew I had severe acute gastritis as a child and had been left with lasting damage. Many of them looked uncomfortable at the sight of me drinking like that.

However, Stanley just watched me indifferently, so no one dared to stop me.

The taste of blood slowly crept up my tongue, and a stinging pain made me cough violently.

Stanley's gaze seemed to waver, but in the end, he only wrapped an arm around Tina's waist and stroked her gently.

"It's good that you finally understand. Tina's cheerful and direct, unlike you, with all your schemes. Stay away from her from now on."

I nodded with a smile, and the atmosphere in the room grew lively again.

I turned and went to the bathroom, vomiting until my insides felt torn up.

Tears mixed with the blood-tinged wine as more than a decade of memories flickered in my mind.

He was the one who used to cry when my gastritis flared up, and he was the one who told our friends never to force me to drink.

Just why, why did he suddenly hate me so much because of another woman?

The agony from the poisoning in my past life coursed through me. I smashed my head against the cold, hard wall, forcing myself to stay conscious.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a private number.

"I'm willing to be your first love's stand-in. My only condition is that you protect me until I turn 24."

I had three years left. That time was neither long nor short.

I was going to write a new plot for myself.