Chapter 4: Rumors, Rivalries, and Old Flames

After we hit puberty in middle school, we both started to change.

The boss shot up, taller than all the other boys, and took after Aunt Diane—so pretty that even girls were jealous.

Plus, he was rich, so he became the school heartthrob.

I wasn’t bad either—thanks to my parents’ genes, I grew up well.

I was popular in elementary school, and by middle school, I was getting love letters left and right.

Since we always ate together and walked to school together, everyone knew we’d been together since preschool—childhood friends.

People even wrote sweet stories about us online, which got super popular.

Some fans shipped us hard and tried to push us together in real life.

I was worried it would bother the boss, so I secretly registered a fake account and tried to clarify online.

“Laurel Sutton and Mason Linwood are just friends—more like siblings. They each like someone else, so there’s no way they’ll get together. Haha!”

A bunch of shippers had their hearts broken and flamed my account.

Someone even dug up my real info.

My cover was blown, and I got cyberbullied.

“Laurel Sutton is so fake—leading Mason on while pretending to clear things up.”

“She looks so pure, but she’s actually scheming.”

“Wow! She’s single—I have a chance.”

“Ugh! How do people like her have fans? Guys really don’t use their brains.”

“Exactly. Mason would never go for someone like that.”

Lying in bed at night, reading all the hate, I almost got depressed.

Worse, the boss and I were in the same class. I had no idea how to face him the next day—so embarrassing.

I could practically dig myself a hole and move in next door to him.

So, I decided to lay low for a bit.

The next day, I called in sick, told the teacher I had a fever—anything to avoid him for a day.

During second period, I got a message from the boss.

“Where are you?”

I hesitated, then replied,

“Not feeling well, in the dorm.”

No reply.

Ten minutes later, another message:

“Come downstairs. I’m waiting.”

—

Was he here to confront me? How was I supposed to explain the whole fake account thing?

I rolled around on my bed in agony, but finally decided to just go down and face him.

The moment I stepped outside, I saw him standing there, icy as ever, staring at me like I owed him money.

I tried to act sick—hugging my stomach, hunched over, shuffling up to him.

Didn’t dare look up, just mumbled, “What’s up?”

He stared for a while, then suddenly put his hand on my forehead.

I jumped, startled.

“Heard from the teacher you had a fever?”

I glanced up at him, nodded guiltily.

He paused, then grabbed my arm and started dragging me off.

“What are you doing?!”

“You’re sick, right? I’m taking you to the nurse.”

?

“No… no need, I took medicine, I’m fine now.”

I tried to pull away and run, but he locked his arm around my neck.

I was nearly a foot shorter than him, and after a sleepless night, I had no strength—couldn’t budge at all.

“Boss, are you just here for payback?” I struggled to break free.

“Yeah! I want to crack open your skull and see what’s inside.”

“No need! If you want to know, just ask—I’ll tell you. No need for bloodshed!”

“Then tell me—who do I like? Who do you like?”

“Boss, that was a fake rumor I spread on purpose. I just wanted to clear your name! There are so many pretty girls who like you—I didn’t want to mess things up for you!”

“Mess up what?” He tightened his grip, gritting his teeth.

“You know… just wanted to avoid misunderstandings!” I answered carefully, hoping he wouldn’t snap and send me away.

“What kind of misunderstanding? Are you saying you have feelings for me?” He switched to his usual arrogant tone, and I finally relaxed.

“Don’t worry, boss! I’ve always had a pure, strictly professional friendship with you. I’d never cross the line.” I raised two fingers in a solemn oath.

“You better mean it.” He muttered, loosening his arm. I quickly escaped.

“Boss! Anything else for me to do?” I grinned at him.

He shot me a look of disdain, face a little dark, then turned and left.

The next day, he commented on my clarification post:

“She’s telling the truth!”

The post exploded again, and his comment got top votes overnight.

The online rumors finally died down—I was cleared at last.

Originally, we weren’t supposed to go to the same high school.

The boss’s grades were terrible—only got a 30 in English, barely enough for an average school.

I could easily get into the best high school in the city.

But money talks.

On the first day, the boss swaggered up to me.

“Laurel, why is it you again? Can’t live without me, huh?”

?

Yeah! Not only that, we were in the same class again!

After registration, Mr. Linwood told me he’d talked to the school and asked me to keep an eye on Mason and help him study.

—

For a moment, I felt like we were two pieces of sticky tape—couldn’t get rid of each other.

Guess that’s what people mean by a fated bond.

On the first day, everyone was excited—meeting new classmates, getting new books, making friends.

And I ran into someone I’d dreamed about for years.

Afternoon math class.

A well-dressed, elegant man in his thirties walked in. He was so charming, the room buzzed.

“Wow! Is that really our math teacher?”

“Oh my god, he’s so handsome I could faint.”

The chatter wouldn’t stop.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Bennett, your substitute math teacher.”

The room erupted.

I stared, and in my ears, another voice echoed:

“Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Bennett, your calculus teacher.”

That voice had haunted my dreams for years.

“Sir, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Are you married?”

Someone teased, and everyone laughed.

He gestured for quiet, then showed the ring on his left hand.

My heart twisted at that.

The class sighed.

I couldn’t focus, my thoughts drifting back years.

Dr. Bennett, my college professor, the man I silently loved for six years.

I was a freshman when he taught calculus—only three years older than me.

The first time I saw him, I was just as stunned as my classmates were now.

He was that bright, untouchable type—adored by everyone, completely out of reach. So I kept my feelings hidden.

Later, he was falsely accused of misconduct and disciplined by the university—his life fell apart.

All the admiration he’d received turned into double the scorn.

During his darkest days, I stood by him, did everything I could to prove his innocence. We had a brief connection.

Then, he disappeared—ran away with his broken life.

I’d thought he might be married by now, but still hoped for a miracle.

Unrequited love is a one-person show, and I performed it for six years.

Until I died. I thought our story was over.

But here he was, in this new life.

“Laurel?”

“Is Laurel Sutton here?”

The math teacher leaned on the podium, looking for me.

I was zoning out, until my deskmate nudged me.

I jumped up. “Here!”

He looked at me, traced a problem on the whiteboard with his long finger.

“Come solve this one.”

I hadn’t been paying attention at all.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t… didn’t understand.” I said, embarrassed.

He adjusted his glasses. “Okay, I’ll explain it again.”

Afterward, he called on me again.

“Laurel, do you understand now?”

“Yeah, I got it.” I nodded, but honestly my mind was a mess.

“Then explain it to the class.”

I stood there, speechless.

“I’ll do it!”

The boss’s voice broke the silence—he’d stepped in to save me.

Luckily, his math was always good.

He explained the solution clearly.

The teacher nodded for us to sit down.

After class, the boss sat in front of me, tapping my desk.

“Laurel, you’re acting weird.”

“What?” I was annoyed, not in the mood for jokes.

“Why are you so distracted by an old guy?”

“Do you have any manners?”

“Yeah, just not much.”

I rolled my eyes, put a book over my head, and ignored him. He left, sulking.

Soon it was time for the first placement test.

Even though I had a good foundation, I’d been out of practice. As the top student placed in this class, I didn’t do so well—math was a weak spot.

The math teacher called me in for a talk.

At the end of the hallway, I stood there, palms sweating.

“Laurel, is something wrong?” His voice was gentle as always.

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say.

After a long silence, I pinched my palm and looked up.

The moment I met his eyes, I couldn’t hold back and teared up.

Even after everything, his eyes were full of kindness, no trace of bitterness—just like the last time I saw him in my past life, when he told me gently, “As long as someone knows the truth, that’s enough. Don’t speak out for me anymore, you’ll get hurt.”

Seeing my tears, he panicked a little.

“Laurel, I’m not blaming you. I just noticed your math was always strong before and wondered if my teaching was the problem.”

The kinder he was, the worse I felt.

“Sir, it’s not you. Your class is great—it’s my own issue.” I choked out, crying.

He stood there, unsure what to do, looking worried.

“I’ve just been off lately. I’ll work on it.” I tried to pull myself together.

He nodded.

“It’s okay, take your time. Let me know if you need help—I’ll do what I can.”

When I returned to class, eyes red, the boss was leaning on the balcony, watching me coldly.

I ignored him and sat down.

“Did the math teacher yell at you?” my deskmate asked.

I shook my head, and she dropped it.

During that time, the math teacher was just normal—caring, but nothing special. He treated all students the same, kept a respectful distance.

But the boss must’ve lost his mind.

Every math class, he’d act up—especially when the teacher called my name. He’d cough loudly, making the whole class laugh.

In school, messing with teachers always seemed cool, so others joined in.

“Mason, if you have a problem with me, talk to me after class. Don’t disrupt everyone.”

The teacher was polite, trying to reason with him.

“Why should I talk to you after class? I’m not into that.” The boss acted like a brat.

The class burst out laughing.

The teacher actually blushed—first time I’d seen him so angry.

He didn’t respond, just kept teaching.

But the boss wouldn’t stop, kept making trouble.

I tried to ignore him, but he was too much.

“Mason, aren’t you going too far? You think it’s cool to disrupt class and piss off the teacher?”

I stood up and let him have it.

“What did I do? Just talking. Dr. Bennett isn’t mad—why are you?” he retorted.

“Why? You don’t want to study, fine, but don’t mess it up for everyone else.”

“And the rest of you—do you know what you’re doing? Mason doesn’t care about school—he’s got a fortune to inherit. Why are you following him?”

I was so mad I lost my filter. The whole class went silent.

The teacher looked dazed at the podium.

I glanced at the boss—his face had gone green.

After that, he went quiet and ignored me.

I apologized, but he stayed cold.

We didn’t talk for a long time, until the end of first semester.

He transferred out.

Didn’t even say goodbye—so petty!

In sophomore year, Dr. Bennett stopped teaching our class.

Before summer break, I chatted with him once.

He said he’d gotten married ten years ago—the year after I died, the year I was reborn.

I didn’t bring up the past. It didn’t seem important anymore.

He also said the boss had come to apologize before transferring.

It had been a while since I’d heard from the boss. I thought about texting him.

I opened his Instagram—last updated at the start of high school.

The background was a photo of him and a girl’s shadows under a streetlight, close together.

He must’ve started dating—time to leave him be.

Later, I finished high school and college alone.

Sometimes I’d visit Aunt Diane. She never said it, but I could tell she wanted news about her son. He never visited her.