Chapter 2

On the way back to the classroom, I ran into my best friend.

Seeing my hair loose and messy, she handed me a hair tie and asked, puzzled, "What happened, Tiffany? Don't you have a hair clip? Isn't it hot walking around like that?"

I smiled and shook my head, calmly taking the tie from her.

"Lost it," I said.

She didn't believe me. She pouted in disbelief.

"You'd lose your whole backpack before you'd lose that clip."

She wasn't wrong.

In fact, I had done exactly that before.

That clip had been a birthday gift from Noah when I turned eighteen. I treated it like a treasure—didn't even let others touch it.

Not long ago, the weather turned rough, and a strong wind swept through.

On the walk home from school, the clip nearly blew away.

Without a second thought, I tossed my backpack aside and chased after it.

By the time I got back, the wind had pushed my bag into the river.

I fished it out with a wooden pole, but all the books inside were soaked through.

When I got home, I lied—said the wind was too strong and I hadn't noticed the bag fall.

Thinking back on it now, I couldn't help but shake my head and laugh.

All the foolish things I did for Noah.

This life, never again.

Just as I was thinking of him, I saw him.

He and Carla were coming up the other side of the school building.

Carla was wearing the very hair clip I had just returned to him. The necklace, the bracelet too—all of it on her now.

For a moment, I couldn't quite name the feeling rising in my chest.

Hate, maybe. And pain.

The things I had once protected with everything I had… now worn on someone else.

My best friend saw it too. She marched straight toward them before I could stop her.

She moved too fast. I didn't even get a chance to explain.

"Noah, what the hell?" she snapped. "Those were gifts for Tiffany. Why are they on Carla?"

I rushed forward, trying to pull her back, but Carla clearly wasn't going to let it go.

She smirked, casually adjusting the clip in her hair, turning her wrist to show off the bracelet.

"Didn't expect you to have such good taste, Tiffany," she said smugly. "The stuff's nice. Shame the last owner was too ugly to pull it off."

I stopped in my tracks.

Even someone as oblivious as I could hear the insult.

I looked up instinctively at Noah.

And he, without missing a beat, drove the knife in deeper.

"Well, of course. People always say ugly girls cause the most drama. Always acting like they're something special, thinking others are head over heels for them."

Even knowing his confession had never been sincere, that it had all been a setup, his words still cut.

He didn't love me. But for Carla, he was willing to lie. Willing to fake it all.

She laughed so hard she could barely stay upright.

And I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"At least I'm not the one settling for someone else's leftovers," I shot back.

That shut everything down.

Carla's expression collapsed into tears. She instantly looked fragile and pitiful.

Noah stormed forward and grabbed my wrist, shoving me hard against the wall.

"Tiffany, have you lost your damn mind? What the hell do you mean by 'leftovers'? Who are you trying to insult?"

A bruise bloomed instantly around my wrist. My back slammed into the wall with a heavy thud. The pain was sharp enough to keep me down.

Thankfully, my best friend caught me before I fell completely. It took me a long moment to catch my breath.

That's when it hit me: The guy glaring at me wasn't the Noah I knew. This version would throw hands over Carla.

Clenching my jaw, I said, "Figure it out yourself."