All Chapters of Rewinding My Reaper Boyfriend: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The alcove under the stairs was smaller than Elion remembered.It smelled of dust and old wood polish, a scent that caught in his throat and triggered another wave of coughing. He was curled into a ball, his knees pressed against his chest, trying to make himself disappear into the shadows.But he couldn't disappear. He was hyper-aware of everything. The distant hum of the cameras. The sound of his own ragged breathing. The overwhelming, crushing weight of the number four million."Breathe," Cale’s voice commanded.It wasn't a suggestion. It was an anchor dropped into a stormy sea.Elion looked up through a blur of tears. Cale was kneeling in front of him, blocking the light from the hallway. He wasn't touching Elion, but his presence filled the small space, pushing back the panic just enough to let a sliver of oxygen in."I can't," Elion gasped. "The numbers... they won't stop.""Forget the numbers," Cale said. "Numbers are abstract. Focus on the concrete."He reached out. He took El

The silence that followed the sobbing was heavy, but it wasn't empty. It was filled with the sound of two people breathing in a room that felt too small for the secrets it held.Elion pulled away from Cale’s chest. He felt raw. Scraped clean. The kind of exhaustion that settles in the marrow after a fever breaks.He wiped his face with the sleeve of his t-shirt, refusing to look at Cale directly. He stared at the button on Cale’s shirt instead—a small, pearlescent disc that caught the moonlight."I'm sorry," Elion murmured, his voice thick. "I didn't mean to... unload on you.""Do not apologize," Cale said. His voice was steady, unchanged by the emotional storm that had just passed. "It was necessary.""It was unprofessional. I'm the psychologist. I'm supposed to be the one handing out the tissues, not using them.""You are off the clock," Cale said.Elion let out a weak, wet laugh. "I'm never off the clock. That's the problem."He shifted, moving back to his side of the bed. He wrappe

The basement laundry room of the mansion was a subterranean world of white noise and fluorescent lighting.It was 4:00 PM on a Sunday—the only scheduled "downtime" the production allowed. Most of the contestants were napping, or in Kieran’s case, loudly complaining about the lack of signal in the game room.Elion stood in front of Washer #3, watching his clothes spin in a hypnotic circle of grey and blue.He felt heavy. The emotional hangover from the night before was still clinging to him like a damp coat. He had cried. He had confessed. He had let Cale see the darkest, most broken part of him.And Cale hadn't run."You used too much detergent," a voice said from the doorway.Elion didn't jump. He had learned the sound of Cale’s footsteps—or rather, the lack of them."I used the recommended amount," Elion said, not turning around. "The cup has a line.""The line is a suggestion from the soap lobby to make you buy more product," Cale said, walking into the room. He was carrying a bask

The midday sun beat down on the pool deck, turning the turquoise water into a blinding sheet of glass. It was supposed to be a "Chill and Grill" afternoon—no challenges, just burgers, beer, and bikini shots for the B-roll.But the atmosphere was anything but chill.Elion sat on the edge of a sun lounger, pretending to read his book. In reality, he was listening. The acoustics of the pool area were surprisingly good, carrying voices across the water with perfect clarity."I'm telling you, it's not normal," Kieran’s voice drifted from the cabana bar, where he was holding court with Sam, Mia, and Leo. "Did you see the break? The ball curved. Physics doesn't do that.""Maybe he's just a shark," Sam said, sounding uncertain. "Some guys grow up in pool halls.""He doesn't have a past, Sam," Kieran countered, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "I checked. My agent checked. Cale Rion didn't exist before this show. No social media. No yearbooks. Nothing.""That is weird," Mia admitted

The bedside lamp cast a harsh, yellow cone of light onto the duvet cover.It was 1:00 AM. The mansion was silent, save for the settling groans of the timber and the distant hum of the servers in the production office.Elion sat cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by pages torn from his small notebook. He had run out of space in the original binding, so he had started taping loose sheets to the headboard, creating a chaotic collage of paranoia and observation.He looked like a conspiracy theorist mapping out the assassination of JFK.Anomaly 1: The Taxi (Time Skip). Anomaly 2: The Pot Rack (Pre-cognition). Anomaly 16: The Eggs (Memory Implantation?). Anomaly 26: The Bridge (Impossible Knowledge). Anomaly 27: The Falling Light (Telekinesis/Time Stop).He uncapped his pen. He drew a thick, black line connecting The Bridge to The Falling Light."It's not a stalker," Elion whispered to the empty room. "A stalker watches. A stalker collects information. This isn't collection. This is...