Dad always claimed he had a connection in the admissions office at Sunshine University. My younger brother, Gavin, barely scraped by with a GPA that would get him into a third-rate college. But Dad insisted Gavin should apply to Sunshine University, the best university, saying his “connection” could pull some strings. As someone who worked in the local education department, I thought Dad’s plan sounded ridiculous. Connections like that rarely worked the way people thought. So, I went through every college admissions guide I could find and helped Gavin apply to a second-tier university abroad—one that matched his grades and seemed like a good fit. Years later, Gavin graduated but couldn’t find a decent job. Dad wouldn’t let it go. “If Stella hadn’t stopped me from getting you into Sunshine University, you’d have companies lining up to hire you by now!” The more Gavin thought about it, the angrier he got. He stewed over it for weeks. Then, one evening, when I came home for dinner, he snapped. He poisoned my food with pesticide. I didn’t even see it coming. The next thing I knew, I opened my eyes—and I was back on the day of Gavin’s college application deadline. This time, I didn’t argue. “Dad’s the expert, right?” I said with a smile. “Let him handle it.”
I woke up to find myself reliving the day of Gavin’s college acceptance party. At the moment, Dad was at the dinner table bragging to everyone about how Gavin was about to be accepted into Sunshine University. He proudly explained how he’d been working his “connections” since Gavin’s junior year of high school. Recently, he’d met someone who claimed to work in the admissions office at Sunshine University. This so-called admissions officer had assured Dad that as long as Gavin put Sunshine University as his top six choices, the acceptance letter would arrive in the mail within a month. Some of the more practical-minded guests tried to talk Dad out of it. “You’ve got to be careful with people like that. He sounds like a scammer.” “No way!” Dad shot back indignantly. “We’ve known each other for a while now. He hasn’t asked me for a single penny. In fact, every time we’ve gone out to eat, he’s the one who pays the tab. You tell me, where are you going to find a scammer that generous?” Then Dad turned to me, throwing me squarely under the bus. “And isn’t Stella working in the education department? Stella, you tell them—don’t colleges sometimes admit students even if their grades don’t exactly meet the requirements? That’s how these things work, right?” All eyes turned to me. For a moment, my mind drifted to my previous life. I remembered this exact scene playing out before. Back then, I had given Dad a serious, straightforward answer. I told him that college admissions were one of the few truly fair opportunities for ordinary people to change their lives. There was no way someone could get into a top-tier school like Sunshine University through “connections.” I even gave him examples—cases where desperate parents had been scammed out of their life savings by people pretending to be college recruiters. These scammers would strike up casual conversations, claim they had “connections,” and promise the world, only to disappear once they got their money. Dad didn’t take it well. Right there in front of everyone, he slapped me across the face. After that, he confiscated my phone and my wallet and kicked me out of the house in the middle of a thunderstorm. But later that night, after being pressured by relatives and friends, he reluctantly dropped the idea. I spent a week researching schools and helped Gavin apply to a second-tier university in Germany that matched his grades. That decision haunted me for years. Any time Gavin faced even the smallest challenge in school, Dad would blame me for not letting him go to Sunshine University. Over time, Gavin’s resentment toward me grew deeper and deeper. It all came to a head one evening when I came home for dinner. Gavin handed me a glass of juice laced with pesticide. Even as I lay dying, struggling to breathe, Dad stood there watching. He didn’t call for help. Instead, to protect Gavin, he dismembered me and fed my remains to the neighborhood’s stray cats and dogs, bit by bit. When the deed was done, he told everyone I had run away with a man, abandoning my family. One night, I saw him sitting alone in my empty room, staring at the walls. “Stella,” he muttered to himself, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry. But you were already gone. I had no choice. I had to protect Gavin.” I was there, my soul floating above him. I couldn’t contain my rage. I had been alive when he made his choice. He had seen me fighting for my life, and still, he did what he did. Now, back at the dinner table in this new timeline, I looked up at Dad, who was waiting for my answer. His eyes were filled with pride, eager for validation. “I mean, I don’t know all the ins and outs of how these things work,” I said with a smile. “But Dad, you’re Gavin’s father. You’d only want what’s best for him, right?” Hearing my response, Dad beamed and turned to the guests. “You see? Even Stella, who works in the system, isn’t against it. So why are you all so worried? Just wait! When Gavin gets into Sunshine University, I’ll throw another party to celebrate, and you’re all invited!” I couldn’t help but smile. Dear Dad, I can’t wait to see how far your “connection” gets you this time.
A few days after the party, Dad called me over for dinner. “Stella,” he said, patting my shoulder. “You know how tight money is around here. Gavin’s admission to Sunshine University is going to cost a little extra. Can you help out your brother this once?” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, as soon as Gavin graduates and lands a good job, he’ll pay you back, every cent.” In my previous life, I fell for this line. Back then, I thought about how hard Dad had worked to raise me and decided to give him the money. But that was just the beginning. Gavin took it as a blank check. Every month, he’d come to me asking for $300, sometimes $400. If I refused, he’d show up at my workplace, crying and causing a scene until I gave in. I once suggested to Dad that he step in and talk to Gavin. “Oh, boys mature slower than girls,” he said dismissively. “Don’t hold it against him. You’re his sister—you should know better.” Looking back, it was laughable. Did being a sister mean I had to let Gavin bleed me dry? No. Not this time. “Dad,” I said, tilting my head, “didn’t you say that admissions officer was your best friend? And that he wasn’t charging you anything?” Dad’s face stiffened for a moment before he forced a smile. “Well, sure, but the guy’s been pulling a lot of strings for us. I can’t let him go unpaid, can I? You work in the system—you should understand how these things work.” “And besides,” he added, trying to change tactics, “as Gavin’s sister, shouldn’t you at least give him a little gift? Something to celebrate getting into Sunshine University?” I smiled politely but didn’t budge. If Dad wanted to waste his money on a scammer, that was his choice. But he wasn’t getting a dime from me.
About a week later, I got a call from Gavin. “Stella,” he said, his voice dripping with entitlement, “it’s already a done deal—I’m going to Sunshine University. So when are you going to buy me a new phone and laptop?” He didn’t even wait for me to reply before adding, “And they’d better be the latest models! If they’re not, I’m not going to school!” His words hit me like a flashback to my previous life. Back then, I had already enrolled him in a decent state school, with plans for him to transfer after a year and continue his studies abroad. But Dad had filled his head with fantasies about Sunshine University, convincing him it was his birthright. To keep him happy and on track with the plan I’d worked so hard to create, I ended up buying him a new phone and laptop. But let’s be real—he’s the one going to college, not me. If he doesn’t want to go, why should I care? So this time, I wasn’t in a rush. I popped a strawberry into my mouth, sipped some tea, and replied lazily, “Oh, that’s not happening. I don’t have the kind of money to buy you all that stuff. Besides, wasn’t it Dad who promised you those things? You should probably ask him.” There was silence on the other end of the line. Gavin was clearly caught off guard. I’d never said no to him before, especially when it came to things Dad had already promised. He huffed, but instead of blowing up, he asked, “Fine. If you can’t get it now, will you buy it for me after your next paycheck?” I laughed softly, unbothered. “Absolutely not. I’m your sister, not your mom. I’ve bought you snacks and small things here and there, but we’re talking about thousands of dollars. Why on earth would that be my responsibility?” That set him off. He practically screamed into the phone, his voice cracking, “Dad spent all his money on your stupid work gifts! He can’t afford it anymore! And everyone knows government employees like you are swimming in bribes—don’t tell me you can’t spare a little for your own brother!” “Stingy jerk!” I froze for a moment, then calmly hit the record button on my phone. “Excuse me?” I said, my tone sharp. “Who told you government workers are taking bribes? Why don’t you bring that person to me, and we’ll have a little chat?” “Let me be clear: I’ve never taken a single penny beyond my salary and benefits. If someone’s spreading nonsense like that, they’d better be ready to face the consequences. So tell me, Gavin—who’s your source? I’d be happy to report them for corruption.” The line went dead silent. Of course, Gavin didn’t actually know anyone. He had just made it up, hoping to guilt me into buying him what he wanted. The silence dragged on until I heard muffled shouting in the background. It sounded like Gavin and Dad were arguing. Then, with a loud slam, the call disconnected. Curious, I pulled up the security camera feed from home. Sure enough, Gavin hadn’t gotten any money from Dad. Worse, his old phone had been smashed in the middle of their argument.
In the end, Dad gave Gavin the brand-new phone I’d bought him earlier this year. To placate him even further, Dad promised to get him the latest model before school started, so he wouldn’t “lose face” at Sunshine University. As for Dad himself? He dug out an ancient Nokia brick phone and resigned himself to using it. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier with how things turned out. Thinking back to my past life, I remembered how I’d been using a five-year-old, barely functional phone while spending half a year’s salary to buy Gavin the latest Apple products. And what did I get in return? Snide comments. “You’ve been working for years, and you still can’t afford a decent phone?” he’d said. “You’re just cheap, Stella. Admit it. This phone is your way of making up for not letting me go to Sunshine University. And even then, it’s last year’s model—couldn’t you at least get me something new?” Well, if last year’s model wasn’t good enough for him, then this time he’s getting nothing. Let’s see how he manages without me footing the bill. I didn’t bother keeping up with their drama after that. I did hear that Gavin started strutting around town, bragging about how his dad had “pulled strings” at Sunshine University. He even claimed he was already set to attend a top-tier school like Harvard or Stanford. His lies stirred up quite a bit of chaos in the community. Parents stormed the local education office, demanding answers. “Don’t worry,” I told them during a public meeting. “We can assure you that the college admissions process is fair and transparent. It’s one of the few opportunities for students to change their lives based on merit alone.” I continued, “Please don’t believe rumors about buying admission spots. If anyone claiming to be from an Ivy League or top-tier school approaches you asking for money, report them immediately. “Think about it—if college admissions could really be bought, why would wealthy families bother sending their kids abroad? Wouldn’t they just pay for them to attend school nearby?” Most of the parents calmed down after hearing this. They were scared, not malicious—just worried about their kids falling behind. Once they realized they weren’t being left out of some secret system, they backed off. Of course, there were still a few who clung to the rumors. But honestly? Some people are determined to believe what they want, no matter what you say. If I couldn’t stop my own father and brother from making fools of themselves, how could I possibly stop strangers?
Time flew by, and soon the first round of college acceptance letters started arriving. Gavin watched as other students proudly showed off their letters, and for the first time, he started to feel a little anxious. He badgered Dad to contact the “admissions officer” and ask about his acceptance letter from Sunshine University. This time, it took a while for the call to go through. “Hello?” a lazy voice finally answered. Dad immediately switched to his overly polite tone, practically groveling over the phone. “Oh, no rush, no rush! Just wanted to ask—when is my son’s acceptance letter going to be mailed out? He’s just a kid, you know, getting a little impatient. Think you could speed things up for us?” The man on the other end didn’t miss a beat, responding with absolute confidence, “Of course! Don’t worry, I’ll get it sent out in the next couple of days.” Hearing that reassurance, both Dad and Gavin relaxed, their worries melting away. Gavin’s confidence returned in full force. He waited eagerly, day after day, for that letter to arrive. Whenever he saw other students on the street crying tears of joy over their acceptance letters from state schools or second-tier universities, he couldn’t help but mock them. “You call that a college?” he’d sneer. “Pathetic. I’m going to Sunshine University.” A few days later, the “admissions officer” called Dad again. This time, he told him that Gavin’s letter had already been mailed. To back up his claim, he even sent a photo of the acceptance letter with Gavin’s name on it. Seeing that photo was all the proof Gavin needed. He practically vibrated with excitement, going around town boasting to anyone who would listen. “If you losers are proud of getting into those garbage schools,” he’d say, “you’ll be blown away when you see my letter from Sunshine University. It’s already on its way!” Then he’d whip out his phone, showing off the photo of his “acceptance letter.” Some people were impressed, looking at him with envy. But not everyone bought it. “Why doesn’t it have an official seal?” someone asked skeptically. “No legitimate university would send an acceptance letter without one.” Gavin’s response? A murderous glare and a string of curses so vile he practically insulted their entire family tree. Five more days passed, and still no letter. At this point, Dad called me, clearly starting to panic. “Stella,” he said, his voice filled with urgency, “Gavin’s acceptance letter was mailed five days ago. Even if it was sent from California, it should’ve arrived by now! Do you think someone at your office intercepted it because they’re jealous Gavin got into Sunshine University?” Before I could respond, he barreled on, “Or worse—what if someone else stole Gavin’s spot? You’ve heard of those cases where people bribe their way into college with someone else’s acceptance letter, haven’t you?” Listening to his ridiculous accusations, I could tell Dad was spiraling. The fact that he still hadn’t questioned whether this “admissions officer” was real was almost impressive. Was he just naïve, or straight-up gullible?
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