Chapter 3: Study Pact and Scandal

With Ethan out of my hair, I poured everything into my studies.

I dove into my textbooks, desperate to reclaim the future I’d thrown away.

Even though I’d taken the SATs before, I couldn’t even remember what the essay topic was that year.

My memory was patchy, the details fuzzy. But I knew enough to get a head start.

I remembered some of the college-level stuff, but just enough to make things a little easier.

I scribbled down formulas, vocabulary, anything that might give me an edge. I wasn’t going to waste this second chance. Not this time.

I knew exactly what I needed to do now: do more practice tests, find my weaknesses, and drill them hard.

I mapped out my plan, color-coding every subject. I’d never been this organized before.

After a night of sorting things out, I made a study plan.

I taped it to my wall, a daily reminder of what I was fighting for.

The next morning, a commotion outside woke me up.

Voices carried through the thin walls—angry, urgent. I sat up, heart racing.

It was Ethan’s mom, coming to question what had happened yesterday.

She stood on our porch, hands on her hips, ready for a showdown. She never did know how to mind her own business.

My parents apologized, blaming it on me being a rebellious teenager—they didn’t want to stir up trouble between the families.

They tried to smooth things over, voices tight with worry. I could see the stress lines deepening on my mom’s face.

Ethan’s mom said she understood, but everything she said was about how popular her son was, and how he just couldn’t let me go. If I didn’t cherish him, I’d regret it.

She rattled on, bragging about Ethan like he was a prize bull at the county fair. I bit my tongue, barely holding back a laugh.

I remembered how, back when I’d visit the Wallaces, his mom would always say, “Savannah, when Ethan marries you, you won’t have to bring a thing.”

She’d say it with a wink, like she was doing me a favor. I used to think it was sweet. Now, I heard the insult buried in her words.

I used to laugh, thinking she liked and approved of me.

I was so naive back then. I thought being welcomed meant being wanted.

Now I realized, she was really saying I was throwing myself at them, not worth anything.

The truth stung, but it also set me free. Finally.

My parents didn’t like the sound of that, so they said, “Kids grow up, some things parents can’t control.”

Dad’s voice was calm but firm. He wasn’t about to let her walk all over us.

Ethan’s mom’s voice grew shrill. “Kids are still kids, what do they know? Parents have to worry. Ethan just can’t let go of Savannah. We’re old neighbors, we know each other’s situations, no one’s trying to outdo anyone. As parents, we just want the best for them.”

She tried to play peacemaker, but her words dripped with judgment. I’d heard enough.

I stormed out, cut my parents off, and pointed at the door. “Mrs. Wallace, you’re not welcome here. Get out.”

My hands trembled, but I stood my ground. The look on her face was priceless.

I used to wonder why Ethan’s mom, who clearly wasn’t satisfied with me, always greeted me with a smile.

It was all about connections, about what my family could do for hers. Love had nothing to do with it.

Now I understood—it was because I had an uncle in the clothing business, and a couple of years ago, the Wallace family had started a small clothing factory in the county.

They needed my family’s contacts, our know-how. I was just a means to an end. Nothing more.

After college, Ethan and I spent a year learning at my uncle’s company. Later, at Mrs. Wallace’s suggestion, both families chipped in to expand the factory.

I remembered the meetings, the late-night talks, the way Mrs. Wallace steered every conversation toward business. She was always thinking ahead.

I wasn’t confident, but couldn’t resist Ethan’s persuasion, so I agreed. My parents, with only one daughter, gave everything they had.

They believed in us, in our future. I wish I could go back and tell them to be careful.

My uncle, being family, not only gave us money but also sent some of his business our way.

He vouched for us, gave us our start. Without him, we would’ve been just another struggling small-town outfit.

In less than four years, with Ethan and me running things, the factory expanded from a few storefronts to a two-story building in a mid-sized city.

We worked ourselves to the bone. I thought we were building something together. I didn’t see the cracks forming.

We also started our own clothing brand through online sales.

I poured my heart into it, designing, marketing, everything. It felt like ours—until it wasn’t.

That’s when we needed a model for promotions—and Autumn showed up.

She sashayed in, all confidence and charm. Ethan’s eyes lit up, and I felt the ground shift beneath my feet.

After that, I basically ended up sewing the wedding dress for someone else.

It was a cruel joke. I was the workhorse; she was the show pony. And in the end, she got the prize.

Looking back, I was just useful to the Wallace family from the start.

They used me up and tossed me aside when I was no longer needed.

Mrs. Wallace had never been treated like this. She immediately started yelling at my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter, is this how you raised your kid? Who talks like that?”

Her voice rose to a shriek, echoing down the street. Neighbors peeked out their windows, hungry for a show.

My parents apologized, telling me to say sorry too.

They tried to smooth things over, but I wasn’t having it. Not this time.

I pushed past them, glaring coldly at Mrs. Wallace. “Get out of my house.”

I meant it. I wasn’t backing down, not for anyone.

She was furious, but I grabbed a broom and swung it at her. Thankfully, my dad stopped me before it hit her head.

He caught my arm just in time, his eyes wide with fear and pride all at once.

Seeing me so agitated, my mom hurriedly dragged the fuming Mrs. Wallace out.

She shot me a look—half worried, half relieved. I knew she’d have my back, no matter what.

But soon, she started cursing at us from across the yard, saying I was possessed. Crazy. Warning her son to stay away from me, or he’d catch my craziness.

Her voice carried, shrill and mean. I could hear the neighbors muttering, but I didn’t care. Let them talk.

My parents looked grim. What I did was wrong, but there was no need to say that about their child. They wanted to argue, but I stopped them. “Mom, Dad, their family isn’t worth dealing with. Cutting ties is the best solution.”

I spoke with a certainty I didn’t feel, but it was the only way forward. My parents nodded, worry etched deep in their faces.

My parents didn’t mind falling out with the Wallaces, but they were worried about how much I’d changed.

They watched me like I was a stranger, unsure if I’d ever come back to them. I tried to reassure them, but some things can’t be explained.

But after a few days of me burning the midnight oil and behaving myself, they gradually relaxed.

They saw my dedication, the way I poured myself into my books. Slowly, the tension eased.

Half a month later, we had our monthly test. Nothing fancy—everyone in their own seats, rows facing opposite directions.

The gym buzzed with nervous energy. I could smell chalk dust and cheap perfume, hear the scratch of pencils and the shuffle of papers.

It was my first exam since being reborn, and I couldn’t hide my excitement.

My hands shook as I turned the pages, adrenaline making my thoughts race. I felt alive, like I had something to prove.

Some parts were graded by the teachers, others by us—swapping papers and grading while the teacher went over the answers.

It was a ritual—passing papers, pretending not to peek at your friend’s answers. I played along, but my mind was on the future.

Total score: 89, more than ten points higher than last time.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Every point mattered now.

It was an improvement, but still only enough for a lower-ranked college based on last year’s admit stats. I was still far from a top university.

The reality stung, but it also fueled me. I wasn’t giving up.

After class, I tried to ask the teacher about my mistakes, but he said he had to go teach another class.

He barely glanced at me, already halfway out the door. I knew what that meant. He didn’t think I was worth the effort.

I knew what he was thinking. Around here, with competition this fierce, a student ranked this low, no matter how hard she worked, would never make a big leap. Explaining was a waste of time. As long as I could get into any college, that was enough.

I could see it in his eyes—he’d already written me off. But I wasn’t about to let him be right.

And in the regular class, everyone was about the same—no one was helping anyone else.

It was every kid for themselves. If you wanted help, you had to fight for it.

But I didn’t have time to teach myself everything.

I needed an edge. Someone who could push me, keep me honest.

At lunch, I went to the honors class to find Caleb Martinez.

He was hunched over a calculus book, headphones in, lost in his own world. I hesitated, then tapped his shoulder.

We used to be lab partners there and got along well. After I started hanging out with Ethan and my grades plummeted, I switched to the regular class and lost touch with Caleb.

He’d always been quiet, a little awkward, but brilliant. I wondered if he even remembered me.

He was a little surprised by my request, but after a few seconds, he agreed. He was busy, though, so he could only spare an hour and a half at lunch every day.

His answer was short, almost businesslike. But I saw a flicker of kindness in his eyes.

To thank him, I bought him lunch every day. It became our extra study time.

We’d sit in the cafeteria, heads bent over textbooks, trading notes and half-eaten sandwiches. It was the highlight of my day.

Caleb didn’t say much, but rumors started flying around school. People whispered that some girl from the regular class was shamelessly chasing after the top student.

It didn’t take long for the whispers to spread. I caught people staring, snickering behind their hands. I ignored them.

Our homeroom teachers called me in, hoping I’d keep my distance from Caleb. The school needed high achievers for their stats. Caleb could bring them glory.

They talked in circles, hinting that I was a distraction. I kept my cool, refusing to back down.

If I remembered right, in my previous life, Caleb got offers from both Harvard and MIT. I never paid attention to which he chose, since all I cared about was Ethan.

I realized how much I’d missed, how many doors I’d closed without even noticing.

I refused their suggestion. “Teacher, I’m just asking him for help with my studies. If it’s a problem, he can refuse.”

My voice was steady, my gaze direct. I wasn’t the same girl they remembered.

The teacher left in a huff, clearly annoyed.

He slammed the door behind him, muttering under his breath. I smiled, feeling oddly triumphant.

At lunch, I went to find Caleb as usual. People were whispering and pointing.

The cafeteria felt smaller, the air thick with gossip. I kept my head down, focused on my goal.

Caleb didn’t look happy either.

His eyes were shadowed, his jaw tight. I wondered if I’d made things worse for him.

My heart skipped a beat. If my pursuit of my own future was affecting his studies and life, maybe I was being selfish.

I chewed my lip, guilt gnawing at me. Was I just dragging him down?

“Caleb, if this is causing you trouble, I won’t bother you anymore.”

I tried to sound casual, but my voice cracked. I braced myself for rejection.

A shadow flickered in Caleb’s eyes. After a moment, he asked, “Does it affect you?”

His question caught me off guard. I shook my head, surprised by his concern.

I shook my head. Looking up at the blazing sun, I said, “You know about me and Ethan, right?”

The sunlight was harsh, making me squint. I felt exposed, vulnerable.

He nodded. Hard not to—back in tenth grade, Ethan waited for me outside the classroom every day.

Everyone knew about us. We’d been the golden couple, the ones everyone envied.

I forced a bitter smile. “Not long ago, I had a dream. In it, I gave up everything for Ethan, got pregnant, and in the end, the other woman beat me into the hospital. Both me and the baby died. He used the hospital compensation to marry her.”

The words tasted bitter, but I forced them out. Caleb listened, silent and steady.

“So, nothing is scarier than a nightmare.”

I tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. Caleb just nodded, understanding in his eyes.

Caleb paused, then smiled. “My family’s not well off. You just gave me a perfect excuse for a free lunch.”

His joke caught me off guard. I snorted, the tension easing between us.

Looking at his serious face, I couldn’t help but laugh.

He cracked a rare smile, and for a moment, we were just two kids sharing a secret.

It was only then I noticed how thin he really was. Face almost bloodless, hands all bone and skin.

I hadn’t seen it before, but now it was obvious. He looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

“Doesn’t the school help with fees or scholarships? Can’t you get any aid?”

I rattled off the questions, trying to hide my concern. He just shrugged, eyes distant.

Caleb didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced at his cheap watch. “I don’t mind. You can’t distract me from my studies. Nothing is scarier than being hungry.”

His words hit me hard. I realized how much I’d taken for granted.

That day, we shared a smile, both of us bonded by our own fears.

It felt good, having someone who understood.

After study hall, I told my parents about Caleb. Hoped they’d give me more allowance so I could cover his meals too.

They exchanged glances, a mix of suspicion and approval in their eyes. I promised it was just for studying, nothing more.

My parents looked at me strangely, not sure if I was studying or dating. But they trusted Caleb, since he was such a good student.

Dad winked, Mom smiled. It felt like the beginning of something good.