Part 2I Want No Part In Their Love Triangle

I didn't type a single word of Cynthia's senior portfolio.

Two days later, Grayson tracked me down in the library.

He snatched the textbook right out of my hands and slammed it onto the wooden desk. The loud crack echoed through the silent room.

Heads turned from every direction.

"Rachel, I told you to help Cynthia, and you're sitting here reading useless garbage?"

I looked up at him calmly. Then I looked at Cynthia, who was standing right behind him, wearing her signature mask of doe-eyed innocence.

"I'm doing research for my own coursework," I replied flatly.

"What coursework could possibly be more important than Cynthia graduating?" Grayson demanded, pulling Cynthia forward by the wrist. "She hasn't slept in days stressing over this design, and you haven't even lifted a finger to help."

Cynthia gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice trembling just the right amount. "Grayson, please don't yell at her. I'm sure Rachel is just really busy with her own life. I'll just figure something else out."

Her little performance only threw gasoline on his fire.

"Listen to her!" Grayson pointed an accusing finger at me. "She's ten times more mature than you are! Rachel, I am telling you this one last time. I want a complete, polished portfolio in my inbox within a week."

I watched them put on their little theatrical duet, feeling nothing but boredom.

I nodded slowly. "Understood."

Grayson thought I was backing down. His rigid posture relaxed slightly, and he grabbed Cynthia's hand, dragging her out of the library.

I absorbed all the weird, pitying looks from the students around me.

It didn't matter. This was the last time they would ever look at me like that.

A few days later, Grayson's patience snapped.

He called me, his voice booming through the speaker. "Rachel, what the hell are you playing at? The deadline is in less than a week and the shared drive is empty."

I turned on the kitchen faucet, letting the rushing water serve as my background noise.

"I'm so sorry. Nana's health took a bad turn. I've been stuck at the hospital taking care of her all week. I just haven't had the time." I lied effortlessly.

"Cynthia's graduation is on the line here. Put your family drama on hold and get her work done first."

Listen to the absolute audacity of this man. In his eyes, my grandmother's life meant less than Cynthia's homework assignment.

"But..." I feigned hesitation.

"No buts." Grayson cut me off sharply. "Rachel, stop throwing these childish tantrums. If Cynthia fails to graduate because of you, we are completely done."

He hung up with a harsh click.

I turned off the faucet and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I honestly couldn't fathom how I had spent my past life wanting to die over a man like him.

Thank god I got a second chance.

My phone rang again. It was my real estate agent. She had found a buyer willing to pay above asking price, entirely in cash. We could sign the closing papers today.

I replied with a simple, "Perfect."

To make my cover story look authentic, I needed to clear out some of my parents' antique furniture before handing over the keys. The pieces were heavy, solid oak. I couldn't move them alone.

The first person that came to mind was Silas. The reliable, ever-present senior who always had my back.

I called him. "Hey Silas, are you free today? I need to get rid of some heavy old furniture at my place, and I could really use some muscle."

The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, his apologetic voice came through. "Rachel, the timing is really bad. I can't leave right now."

In the background, I distinctly heard the sound of Cynthia coughing delicately.

"Cynthia is running a fever, and I need to stay here and take care of her," Silas explained smoothly. "Can you try to figure it out yourself? Or maybe just hire some movers? I'll wire you the money for it later."

Cynthia again.

I let out a soft, breathy laugh. "Don't worry about it, Silas. Take good care of her. I'll handle it."

I hung up the phone and immediately booked a premium moving service online.

Why beg for favors when money can solve the problem instantly?

A few hours later, I stood outside the local hospital. I clutched my stomach and dialed Silas again, forcing my voice to sound frail and breathless. "Silas, my stomach is killing me. The pain is unbearable. I'm at the downtown ER right now."

Silas didn't hesitate. "Don't move. I'm on my way."

I sat on a freezing plastic chair in the chaotic emergency room lobby, watching the crowd blur past me.

Thirty minutes later, Silas rushed through the sliding glass doors.

He was out of breath, his eyes darting frantically. But he didn't even scan the waiting area where I was sitting.

He sprinted right past me, heading straight for the orthopedic wing down the hall.

I stood up slowly and followed him.

Outside the orthopedic exam room, Cynthia was sitting in a wheelchair. Her ankle was wrapped in a thick bandage, and tears were streaming down her face.

Silas was kneeling on the floor right in front of her, speaking in a sickeningly sweet, coaxing tone. "Shh, it's okay. Don't cry. The doctor said it's just a minor sprain. A few days of rest and you'll be perfectly fine."

"But it hurts so much," Cynthia whined, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

Silas frowned in deep concern. He reached out to touch her wrapped ankle, his hands moving with extreme, terrifying gentleness, terrified of causing her even a fraction of pain.

His performance right now was a hundred times more genuine than any fake concern he had ever shown me by my hospital bed in my past life.

I stood silently in the hallway, watching the scene unfold.

So the rumors I had heard in the ICU during my past life had been true all along. It had started years before I ever realized it.

My presence finally shifted the air in the hallway.

Silas turned his head, and his entire body went completely rigid.

"Rachel... what are you doing over here?" Panic flooded his eyes.

Cynthia noticed me too. The tears instantly vanished from her eyes, replaced by a subtle, mocking gleam of victory.

"I told you, my stomach was killing me. I came to get a prescription." I pointed casually at the pharmacy bag in my hand.

"Are you... are you feeling better?" Silas scrambled to his feet, looking entirely out of his depth.

"I'm fine. Just an old flare-up."

"I'll let you get back to your nursing duties. I'm heading home." I didn't give him a single second to stumble through an excuse. I simply turned on my heel and walked away.

I knew perfectly well that me walking away without a fight would just convince them that I was still the same jealous, helpless Rachel who would eventually come crawling back.