Dropped Out For My Boyfriend’s PhD, He Married His Student–Now I’m Reborn To Change My Fate!

Dropped Out for My Boyfriend’s PhD, He Married His Student – Now I’m Reborn to Change My Fate! dropped out of school to support my boyfriend through his Ph.D. But once he achieved his success, he cheated with a student of his and divorced me. Then, after a car accident, I woke up… back to the day I dropped out. I stormed into the school office. “Mr. Baker, I’m not dropping out!” Mr. Brian Baker adjusted his glasses and looked at me with a smug smile. “Ann Monroe, right? So, you’re staying in school now? Fine by me. But you’ll need to take care of that unpaid tuition and fees balance. That’ll be $8,904.90.” He eyed my worn, faded uniform with disdain. “When you got in, we all thought you’d be our little golden ticket. Six months in, and you’ve gone from the top of the class to scraping the bottom 500.” As he went on and on, my grandma pushed her way in from the hall, lugging a large burlap sack stuffed with my belongings. She had decided that if I dropped out, she’d sell everything I owned to the junk dealer. “Mr. Baker,” Grandma Lila shot back, “you better get your words right! What do you mean ‘fees’? This girl made the top ten on her entrance exams, and your school waived those fees! We wouldn’t even have considered coming otherwise!” “Grandma Monroe, the fee waiver had conditions attached! When she entered, we thought she’d go on to a state university. Now, I’d be surprised if she could get into a junior college.” In middle school, when my dad was still alive, I studied hard every day and scored high on every test. But high school wasn’t the same—the work was harder, and you needed not only talent but time. I had no time. While the other students were in evening study sessions, I was working the late shift at the convenience store. And while they were at early class, I was out delivering milk. And all the money I saved went to fund my so-called “little brother’s” video games. Grandma and Mr. Baker bickered on, ignoring me, the person actually involved. “Grandma,” I said, grabbing her sack. “I’m not dropping out!” She stared, shocked. I’d always been so quiet, and here I was, loudly refusing. But I wasn’t done. “Lenny’s not even Dad’s son! You adopted him, just so there’d be a ‘real heir’ in the family, and now you’re supporting his video games with the money I work to earn!” I was loud enough that teachers from the math department next door started to listen in. Grandma’s lips trembled. “Are you trying to kill me?” I shrugged. “Funny, you didn’t seem frail when you slapped me yesterday.” By now, I knew my only chance of staying was to win sympathy. Most teenagers would never dream of exposing their hardships, but ten years of hell taught me that survival mattered more than pride. I dropped to my knees, rolling up my sleeves to reveal red welts. “You’re forcing me to quit school, to marry a man old enough to be my father just for his dowry? That forty-year-old slob Dale Jensen, who can’t even feed himself? I won’t do it!” I crawled forward, letting tears fill my eyes. “Just let me stay in school. If I get into college, I swear I’ll support this family.” In my previous life, I dropped out, and they forced me to marry. I finally injured Dale, stole my ID, and ran. They all thought I’d gone off to the big city to find work, but only Sean Turner knew the truth—he found me half-delirious with fever. Starved for love, I’d bought into his lies, taken odd jobs to support him, even paid his tuition and expenses. But why did I have to send him to college? Why couldn’t I go to school myself? This time, every single abandoned dream, I would bring to life. And as for the parasites who’d lived off my back? I’d deal with them one by one. The teachers watched, stunned, as Ms. Wendy Harris—the one who’d originally recruited me to the school—came over and lifted me to my feet. “Ann, I had no idea,” she said softly, then turned to Grandma, her eyes sharp. “Mrs. Monroe, let me remind you: our school paid your family $5,000 to bring Ann here, and now you want to push her to quit?” “Five thousand?” I’d never known about that. Grandma squirmed, clearly feeling uncomfortable in front of so many teachers, but she wouldn’t back down. “Girls are meant to get married. Older men, well, they know how to treat a lady.” “Older? Dale Jensen is twenty-four years older! Ann’s only sixteen, Mrs. Monroe. What you’re doing is illegal.” This time, the teachers murmured disapproval. Grandma couldn’t withstand the pressure anymore. “Fine. She can stay. But don’t expect us to pay any tuition!” Relieved, I exhaled, though Grandma grabbed me and whispered fiercely, “If you insist on this, you’ll be paying your own way. Not a single cent from us.” Seeing Grandma’s fury, Ms. Harris stepped protectively between us as Grandma threw up her hands and marched out, leaving me surrounded by teachers. Mr. Baker, snapping out of his momentary sympathy, returned to his usual sneering tone. “No precedent exists for this kind of waiver. If fees aren’t covered, that’ll fall on our department.” “We’ll apply for every waiver available,” Ms. Harris said firmly, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Whatever’s left, I’ll cover it.” I hesitated and then looked back at Mr. Baker. “If I got into the Ivy League, would that cover my fees?” Mr. Baker spat out his coffee. “The Ivy League? We’d be lucky if we got one student into a decent state college!” “I just didn’t have time to study before,” I explained. He clearly didn’t believe me. “Well, the finals are next week,” he said. “Let’s see if you can back up those big claims.” Ms. Harris looked doubtful but kind. “Ann, you don’t have to worry about the fees. You can pay me back once you’re working if it bothers you.” My jaw set. I’d show them all. “Go on back to class and gather your things,” Ms. Harris said. It was between classes, so the room was buzzing with noise. But when I walked in, dragging my burlap sack, the chatter stopped. I walked straight to my old seat. “Taken,” sneered Greg Kent, who liked to think of himself as the “Denzel Washington” of our class, wrinkling his nose at my worn uniform. “But I’m back,” I said calmly, “so move your stuff.” Greg turned bright red. “You? Why bother staying in school if you’re too dumb even to get into a junior college?” He sneered, and the class burst into laughter. The fact that I’d once been one of the top students, to them, just made it funnier. Bam! I slammed my books down. “Greg, I earned my spot here. You? Your parents paid for yours!” First rule of standing up to bullies: focus on one, make an example of him. Greg’s face went even redder, but the bell rang before he could respond. Our strict English teacher walked in, clearly in a foul mood. Our class’s average score was much lower than the next class over. “With scores this bad, I could’ve thrown grains of rice at your answer sheets, and chickens would’ve picked better answers! You there, Greg.” She turned, her eyes snapping. “Ann here claims she’s ready for a recitation.” Greg flashed a mean smile. “Yeah, Ms. Preston, Ann says she can do it!” Clearly hoping I’d embarrass myself, he raised his hand. “Fine, Ann. Come on up here.” To his surprise, I nailed it. I started slow, but I could feel his smugness vanish as I recited each word. After class, Ms. Preston called me over. “You know, if there’s anything you’re struggling with, you could tell us.” Other teachers overheard and nodded, but I held my head high, determined. At that moment, Blake Preston walked by. Ms. Preston called out to him. “Blake, would you mind giving Ann a copy of today’s assignment?” I looked up, recognizing him. Blake, the boy who’d stood up for me once before, one of the only bright spots in my life. But now my goal was Ivy League or bust. Back in class, someone had soaked my books with water. “Was it you?” I asked Greg, who wore a guilty smirk. No matter what they did, I wouldn’t waste time on their games. By the next exam, I’d be ready for Greg and anyone else who tried to get in my way. I hauled my sack to the back row, finding a seat by the window next to Blake, the “Sleep King,” who rarely lifted his head off his desk. I sat down, relieved. Suddenly, he lifted his head and looked at me. “Blake, you don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” I asked as I settled in. “You’ve already sat down,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “You’re a good person,” I told him honestly. His ears went red. “Just don’t wake me up.” I could hear whispers from the girls in front of us: “Oh my God, she’s sitting by him!” And just like that, I had an unexpected ally in my new life.

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