Chapter 4: Rewriting Fate

The system’s voice echoed in my ear.

“Host, you must’ve guessed, right?”

“The girl in the white dress next to our little villain is the main girl who just got back to the States—Mia Harris.”

Yeah, I guessed it.

Because the main girl, Mia Harris, is also an art student—

Her Instagram’s full of in-progress paintings and behind-the-scenes reels. I’d seen her self-portraits before, tagged in New York art shows and local charity events.

In the original story, the caretaker the Taylor family found was a jerk. Two-faced and greedy, he treated Tyler terribly.

After the Taylors went under, he ran off with the money, leaving the boy—whose mental state was already fragile—alone and stranded.

He never even tried to find the Harris family.

Tyler suffered a lot after that. He couldn’t even go to school. He worked odd jobs, got ripped off, even ended up with a broken leg.

One job had him cleaning paint supplies at a warehouse for cash. He slipped on a spill and nobody bothered to call for help. That’s how he lost his shot at senior year.

Eventually, he met a real teacher—a true art master at a university. His talent was discovered, and he clawed his way up from nothing…

Only then did he become an artist everyone respected.

By that time, the main girl was already a rising star in the industry. Tyler finally met Mia Harris and learned about the childhood engagement.

But looking at his own battered body, he no longer had the courage to pursue her…

At the end of the story, the day before the main girl’s wedding, Tyler jumped from a high-rise.

The headlines were brutal. The art world mourned, but the city just moved on.

In the note he left behind—

He wrote that his life was ruined by that caretaker. If he’d found Mia Harris back then, his life would’ve been perfect and without regrets.

His words haunted me—scratched into my brain like a warning I couldn’t ignore.

To change Tyler’s fate, after entering this world, I replaced the caretaker—

In the new storyline, Tyler’s grandfather met me at the group home and started sponsoring my schooling.

He visited every week, always with a brown paper bag of cinnamon rolls. He’d ask about my grades, but mostly, he wanted updates on Tyler.

After the grandfather died, he left me some money and asked me to look after his grandson.

The lawyer’s office was stuffy and silent. I signed the papers with shaking hands, promising I’d do what I could.

So I did my best to care for Tyler—

He didn’t know how to manage money, so I opened a bank account in his name and tried to make the money last as long as possible.

Couponing, side gigs, ramen for dinner—anything to make sure he had what he needed, even if it meant I went without.

His mental state wasn’t good, so I read up on everything I could and took him to see specialists.

I sat through psych evaluations and therapy sessions, clutching a notebook full of questions, desperate to find answers.

He loved painting. Even though I’m a science major with zero art knowledge, I went to almost a hundred exhibits in a year, just to have something to talk to him about.

There were nights I fell asleep in the library, stacks of art books as my pillow. I tried to memorize the difference between Van Gogh and Pollock, just for him.

…

But even so, Tyler’s attitude toward me stayed cold and distant.

No matter how hard I tried, he wouldn’t let me in.

Even during his manic episodes, he’d rather smash things than let me bring his meds into the studio.

The reason? Just because I didn’t get art. He didn’t want someone boring and ordinary like me messing with his creative space—

But now, he was totally different with the main girl.

He’d listen closely to her thoughts on his work, and then slowly share his own.

She’d say something clever, and his whole posture would relax. He even laughed—actually laughed, the sound sharp and bright.

When Tyler finished that painting, he took it off the drawing board and handed it to Mia Harris, wanting her to have it.

His hands trembled a little. You could tell this meant more than words.

The tips of his ears looked a little red.

He tried to hide behind his hair, but I saw him grinning to himself, just for a second.

“Can we add each other on Instagram?”

“My name is… my name is Tyler Taylor.”

His voice cracked, like he was out of practice using it for something hopeful.

Mia blinked in surprise. She pulled out her phone, tilting her head as she scratched her nose.

“Hm? Why do I feel like… I’ve heard your name before?”

She smiled, flipping through her contacts, looking genuinely curious.