Chapter 2: New Beginnings and Old Rivalries
In a rented room in a rundown part of town.
The paint was peeling on the doorframe, and the air was heavy with the kind of musty scent you only get in old apartments with leaky pipes and drafty windows. The building’s hallway carpet had seen better decades—probably back when disco was cool. I hugged my jacket tighter as we stepped inside.
The moment the door opened, a musty smell wafted out. The room was dark and damp, with only a simple twin bed and not even an extra chair.
The single overhead bulb flickered, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. There were plastic storage bins stacked in one corner, an ancient mini-fridge humming noisily next to a battered thrift store dresser. On the nightstand, a half-used roll of duct tape and a mug with the local union’s logo—Caleb’s only real luxury.
Caleb sat on the bed, lit a cigarette, and didn’t even bother to lift his eyelids.
He blew out a trail of smoke toward the cracked window, his broad shoulders hunched. The mattress springs groaned under his weight, and his boots left faint streaks of mud on the floor. It was clear he’d made peace with the discomfort—this was home, for now.
"Sit."
He patted the bare mattress, the faded blue sheet stretched tight. There was nowhere else, unless I wanted to squat on a milk crate or the sticky linoleum. I hesitated only a second before making up my mind.
The only place to sit was the bed against the wall, but he sat right in the middle, taking up all the space.
I smirked. If he thought that’d stop me, he didn’t know me very well. The room was cramped, but the tension was bigger—thick enough to cut with a knife.
I glanced around, then walked over without hesitation.
I squared my shoulders, crossed the room in two strides, and perched myself on the edge of the bed, pretending not to notice his silent challenge. The air between us crackled, and my heart gave a little skip.
...and sat directly on his lap.
I could feel him tense up beneath me, the heat of his body burning through my dress. My pulse skipped, but I kept my chin up, daring him to call my bluff. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to look as casual as possible.
Caleb’s body went rigid, not knowing what to do with the hand holding the cigarette. In the end, he casually tossed it at his feet and stubbed it out.
He exhaled, slow and deliberate, as if trying to steady himself. The cigarette hissed out on the tile, and I saw a flicker of something—was it nervousness? Desire?—in his eyes. For a guy who could stare down a foreman, he sure looked rattled by a girl in his lap.
"What do you want now? I already gave you all my paycheck this month."
His voice was clipped, rough around the edges. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped in defeat. For a second, I felt a pang of guilt, remembering how much he’d already sacrificed for me.
In the novel, at this point, Caleb already knew the original Aubrey didn’t love him. He came to campus just to confirm it one last time, and finally witnessed her accepting the rich guy’s confession.
I thought about how in the book, this was supposed to be his breaking point—the moment he walked away for good. But the universe had other plans: this time, I was here to change things, or at least try.
It was at this moment that I transmigrated over.
One second, the old Aubrey’s cold ambition. The next, me—heart pounding, desperate not to let this turn into another tragic story. I felt the edges of fate nudging me, and I clenched my jaw, determined to do better.
He had secretly partnered with someone to start a tech company. Although it was just getting off the ground, he definitely wasn’t broke.
He was smart, maybe even brilliant. He’d been pulling graveyard shifts, coding late at night on a beat-up laptop he found at a pawn shop. The kind of guy who wore dirt on his boots and calluses on his hands, but whose mind was always five steps ahead.
He just didn’t want to spend any more money on me, this scummy woman.
I couldn’t blame him. In the novel, Aubrey had chewed up his love and spit it out, leaving him with nothing but empty pockets and old wounds. I could still see the hurt simmering beneath his tough-guy facade.
"I don’t want money. I want something else."
I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. My eyes never left his. I watched the surprise flicker across his face, and I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d buy it.
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Don’t tell me you want my body?"
There was a teasing lilt in his tone, but I could tell he was bracing himself for disappointment. Still, I let a sly grin slip, pretending to be unfazed. "Depends," I shot back, trying to keep it light.
He really was handsome—tall, well-built, and with looks that could make any woman swoon.
His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and when he smiled—really smiled—he looked like the kind of guy who should’ve been on a billboard in Times Square, not hauling cinder blocks in the heat. My heart did an involuntary flip.
"I don’t like Tyler, the guy who gave me flowers today. He keeps pestering me."
I rolled my eyes dramatically, hoping he’d see through my bravado. "Honestly, it’s getting creepy," I added, voice barely above a mutter. "He doesn’t know when to quit."
"Didn’t you always want to marry rich?"
His tone was flat, but there was something brittle underneath—old wounds, old words. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say. The Aubrey he’d known would’ve killed for a sugar daddy. But me? Not anymore.
Liking money is one thing, but you have to live long enough to spend it. In the novel, after I got together with the rich guy, he cheated on me and abused me. When I asked for a divorce, he locked me up in the basement.
I shuddered, remembering the way the book described that darkness—literal and metaphorical. My pulse spiked at the thought. No amount of money was worth losing yourself.
I needed someone to help me get rid of him, and Caleb was the best candidate.
I bit my lip, weighing how much to confess. The old me would’ve manipulated him with crocodile tears. This time, I just wanted someone to have my back—a real partner, not a protector I’d throw away when things got tough.
"Why do you think I’d help you again? Because of your face?"
He glared at me, but the edge in his voice was softer than before. I smiled up at him, trying to remind him of all the good times, not just the bad.
I crouched down in front of him, looking up. I didn’t have any other advantages, but I was confident in my looks.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, tilting my chin up. "Well, it hasn’t failed me yet," I teased, hoping for a laugh. If I was going to fight for a second chance, I’d have to use every card in my deck.
After all, in the novel, I relied on this face to make countless men fall for me. Even in the end, it was Caleb who saved me from the rich guy.
I remembered every passage that described my looks as a weapon—double-edged and dangerous. But I hoped maybe, just maybe, I could be more than a pretty face this time.
Wasn’t it all because of this face?
I searched his eyes, desperate for a sign that he still saw something worth saving. If I had to start from scratch, so be it.
"I’ll graduate in a year. I can start interning and working now to pay you back."
I fiddled with the hem of my dress, anxiety twisting in my gut. "I’m good with numbers," I added quietly, remembering all the nights spent cramming for finals at the last minute. "I can learn. I want to make things right."
"I don’t need that. Leave my place now."
His voice was cold, final. But I could see the hesitation in the way he avoided my gaze. My chest tightened—I couldn’t let this be the end.
As he spoke, there was a sudden knock at the door.
A voice filtered through the paper-thin walls, sounding almost apologetic. I tensed, glancing at Caleb, wondering if he’d expected company tonight.
A gentle female voice called out, "Mr. Carter, are you there?"
Her tone was soft, polite—almost too careful. I felt a jolt of recognition, even before I saw her face. The way she said his last name, like she was afraid to be too familiar, sent a pang through my chest.
Caleb’s eyes instantly turned cold, even showing a trace of disgust. He sat there as if he hadn’t heard anything at all.
He hunched his shoulders, jaw clenched tight. I’d never seen him look so guarded, so ready to shut the world out. For a second, I wondered what she meant to him—or what he meant to her.
Then his phone rang, persistently, hanging up automatically and then ringing again.
The ringtone was shrill in the cramped room. I saw the name flash on the screen: Lily S. The call dropped, then came back, stubborn as ever. Caleb’s lips pressed into a hard line.
The person outside must have heard it too, but still stubbornly kept calling.
I imagined her out in the hall, phone clutched tight, hoping he’d answer. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
I directly hung up the call, walked over, and yanked open the door.
My nerves were buzzing, but I kept my chin up as I swung the door wide, determined to put on a show of confidence. If Lily was going to meet me, I’d make sure she knew who she was dealing with.
A girl was standing outside. When she saw me, she was stunned.
She was pretty, but in a different way—girl-next-door cute, not runway glamorous. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide, and I saw the moment realization hit. I offered her a tight smile, just polite enough.
I looked her up and down. This was the female lead, Lily, who would later be cherished by Caleb.
I remembered every detail from the novel: how she’d started out as just another intern, how her persistence and quiet strength won Caleb over in the end. She was the kind of girl people rooted for—except now, I was in the way.
She wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, with light makeup that made her look fresh and lively. But because she’d been waiting outside for so long, her forehead was covered in sweat from the heat.
It was late summer, the kind where the humidity never let up, and she looked wilted but determined. A few wisps of hair stuck to her temple. She clutched a folder to her chest like it was a shield.
Her makeup was even a little smudged...
The mascara had run just a bit, leaving faint tracks beneath her eyes. I felt a flicker of sympathy—it couldn’t have been easy, waiting out here, hoping for a door to open.
And I was wearing a designer dress bought with Caleb’s paycheck, my hair carefully styled, my face perfectly made up. The contrast made her falter and unconsciously press her lips together.
She took a half-step back, eyes darting from my heels to my glossy blowout. I couldn’t blame her for feeling out of place—my look screamed money, hers screamed hard work.
But her eyes still shone with determination.
She didn’t cower. Her jaw set, and I could see the fight in her eyes. It was the kind of resolve that made her the heroine in Caleb’s story. I almost admired her for it.
"Who are you?"
Her voice was small, but there was steel in it. She stood her ground, refusing to let me intimidate her. I felt a twinge of guilt.
"I’m Caleb’s girlfriend. Didn’t he tell you?"
I delivered the line with a practiced smile, hoping to hide my nerves. I saw her blink, lips parting in surprise.
Of course Caleb had mentioned it, but she’d never seen us together. Even on Valentine’s Day, Aubrey hadn’t shown up.
I remembered reading about those lonely nights in the novel—how Lily would wait for hours, hoping for a glimpse of the girl who’d stolen Caleb’s heart. I wondered what she’d thought all those times I hadn’t shown up.
Lily thought it was just an excuse from Caleb. Who knew he really had a girlfriend?
I saw the moment it hit her. She looked at Caleb, then back at me, realization dawning. Her face paled, and she took another half-step back.
Lily’s face went pale, looking as if she might faint at any moment. At this point, Caleb finally came out from inside.
He brushed past me, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked from me to Lily, and for a second, I wondered if he’d choose her. My heart thudded in my chest.
"Lily, what are you doing here?"
His tone was gruff, almost annoyed. But I saw the concern flash in his eyes, just for a moment. Lily straightened her shoulders, swallowing hard.
Lily’s eyes were red as she handed over a folder, saying, "There’s an urgent matter at the company. I couldn’t reach you by phone, so I came over."
Her voice trembled, and her hands shook as she held out the folder. I could see the disappointment etched in every line of her face. She’d hoped for something more than work.
"I understand. I’ll go right away. You head back first."
Caleb didn’t meet her eyes as he took the folder. He kept his tone businesslike, but his jaw was tight. Lily hesitated, searching his face for any sign of tenderness, then nodded.
Lily finally couldn’t hold back her tears. Sweat mixed with tears ran down her neck, making her look rather pitiful.
She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, but the makeup only smeared more. My heart ached for her, even if she was technically the competition.
I pulled out a pack of vanilla-scented Wet Ones from my purse and handed it to her, trying to comfort her, "Don’t cry, your makeup is smudged."
I tried to sound gentle, not condescending, but it was hard not to feel awkward. The wipes were vanilla-scented, a tiny luxury in this run-down apartment.
Unexpectedly, she shoved me away, snapping, "Who needs your fake kindness?"
She batted the wipes out of my hand, and they tumbled to the floor. Her voice cracked, raw with pain and humiliation. I froze, unsure how to react.
With that, she turned and ran off, crying.
Her sneakers slapped against the linoleum, echoing down the hallway. I watched her go, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt.
Me: "..."
I stood there, mouth open, unsure what to say. I wanted to call after her, to explain, but the words stuck in my throat.
Part of me wanted to reach out, to say something kind. The other part wanted to win.
Considering she’ll be Caleb’s sweetheart and the future wife of a business tycoon, I let it go.
I watched the elevator doors close, wondering how many more scenes like this were still to come. The future felt uncertain, but for now, I was determined to hold my ground.