I was the beautiful teacher, the unattainable dream for countless students. But the boy I’d bent over backwards to help drugged me. As I hazily mumbled “honey,” his hand slithered under my blouse. Afterward, he couldn’t stop bragging, spreading our intimate videos like wildfire. “Dream girl? Please. I’ve had her. Nothing special.” I plummeted from a pedestal to rock bottom. Soon after, my husband divorced me, my parents became social pariahs, and the school kicked me to the curb. Crushed by the online witch hunt, I took a swan dive off the school’s roof. Then I woke up. I’d gone back in time to the day that boy first transferred to our class. There I was again, standing before my senior class, donning that familiar bohemian dress and white sandals, the epitome of grace. Still the young, drop-dead gorgeous literature teacher. We had a new kid joining us, a charity case. Today was his first day. The moment he shuffled in, all eyes locked onto him, hushed whispers erupting. “Jesus, he looks like he crawled out of a horror movie. What a disappointment.” “I’m not trying to be mean, but I might be sick. Seriously, no offense.” He hobbled in with a noticeable limp. His sallow face was a maze of acne scars, topped off with a nose like a bulbous potato and a mole the size of a quarter underneath. “H-hey everyone. I’m the new guy. Hope we can get along.” As he stammered out his greeting, his eyes never left me. My breath caught in my throat. Ethan Springs. A name that would haunt me for a thousand lifetimes, each syllable dripping with venom. In my past life, I’d pitied this poor, crippled kid. I’d torn into anyone who dared bully him, bought him new clothes, taught him how to carry himself, told him to keep his chin up. But on one stormy night, Ethan Springs stalked me home. Like an idiot, I let him in out of the rain. He repaid me by slipping something in my drink. As I lay on the couch in a daze, calling out for my husband, his shaky hands fumbled with my buttons. Then everything went black. I was helpless as a newborn kitten. I woke up the next day, my body a canvas of bruises. Panicked, I ran to the cops, but the little snake had vanished into thin air. For days, I was a nervous wreck, jumping at shadows. Then I saw it. The high-def video making the rounds in every group chat, captioned: “Some dream girl. I’ve had her. Nothing to write home about.” The woman in the video was me, whimpering, sobbing, begging. In an instant, the internet exploded. See, I’d gone viral before when someone snapped a candid of me. The internet had dubbed me “The Girl Next Door” and “The Unattainable Dream.” #DreamTeacherSeducesStudent #DisgraceToTheProfession He never stepped up to take responsibility. Instead, he skulked in the shadows, giggling like a creep, sending me anonymous texts: “Miss Sophie, now we’re both in the gutter. Be with me. I’ll treat you right.” In the end, I couldn’t take the cyber lynch mob. I climbed to the school’s roof and took the plunge. I was three months pregnant at the time. From everyone’s dream girl to public enemy number one, I’d hit rock bottom. But now, as I stood at that familiar podium again, eyeing the boy in the back row, I felt the gears of fate starting to turn. This was my shot at redemption. He looked up at me, his accent thick as molasses: “‘The bubbling spring is voiceless in its flow; In shadow of the trees, a fountain plays.’ Miss, I’m… I’m Ethan. Ethan Springs.” The class erupted in jeers. “Dude, are you for real? You know our teacher’s name is Miss Sophie Summers, right?” He froze for a second, then flashed me a shy smile.
Our eyes met, and a chill ran down my spine. I forced myself to stay cool. After all, in this life, he was clueless. I could still nip this in the bud. “We’ve got a new face. Anyone want to be his desk buddy?” He’d started school late, already twenty and built like a linebacker. Not to mention his face looked like it’d been through a meat grinder. The class went dead silent. Nobody was jumping at the chance. Then Megan, our class rep, raised her hand. “Miss Summers, as class rep, I should set an example. I’ll sit with the new kid.” Looking at Megan’s kind, honest face, I saw a mirror of my past self. I coldly replied: “I hear your grades were pretty shabby before you transferred. Wouldn’t want to hold Megan back. Why don’t you grab that empty seat in the back?” There were plenty of open spots, but I’d chosen the most blatantly unfair option. He looked bewildered, like he couldn’t believe I was not only giving him the cold shoulder but actively throwing him under the bus. Ethan’s lips twitched, and he mumbled under his breath. “How… Miss Summers looks so gentle. How could she discriminate against me too?” Every word out of his mouth sent shivers down my spine. After class, I practically sprinted back to the staff room. My back was drenched in cold sweat, but I didn’t even notice as I gulped down scalding tea. My mind was racing. Should I quit now? Run away? I’d fought tooth and nail for this teaching position. How many sleepless nights had I spent studying to land this gig? They never let teachers switch classes in the final year, not with college entrance exams looming. Why should I give up everything because of him? I sat there in a daze until it was time to clock out. Jack came to pick me up, waiting in his car outside the school gates for half an hour. When he saw me coming down the steps, he rushed to open the door, pulling me into his arms. “Babe, you look awful. What’s wrong?” As I breathed in his familiar, warm scent, I finally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Jack and I had always been rock solid. In my past life, our “divorce” was just a front to shield me from the online hate mob. He whisked me away to a new city where we could start fresh. Later, when he saw how broken I was, he even went after Ethan with a knife. But Ethan used his grandma as a human shield. Jack got played. He ended up bleeding out on the pavement. Now, looking at Jack’s handsome face, still untouched by tragedy, I wiped away my tears and forced a smile. “It’s nothing. Just feeling a bit under the weather. Let’s go home.” Jack was having none of it. He grabbed my hand and made a beeline for the hospital. I couldn’t talk him out of it. An hour later, the rush blood test results came back. I was pregnant. Turns out, I was already carrying Jack’s baby at this point in time. When he found out I was pregnant, Jack swept me up in his arms, spinning me around. “Babe, this is amazing! We’re going to have a little one of our own!” “I hope it’s a girl. I’d love to raise a mini-Sophie, she’d be as beautiful and sweet as you.” I smiled through my tears, making a silent vow. This time, I’d protect our hard-earned happiness at all costs. The next day, I went to class as usual. My voice was hoarse from yesterday, so I brought a clip-on mic. The amplified sound drowned out all the messy emotions. I didn’t even glance at that corner, just taught my lesson like nothing was wrong. Things stayed quiet for a few days. Then, on Thursday afternoon, right after my last class, as I was heading back to the staff room. A group of girls were helping Ethan along, blocking my path. He’d clearly been roughed up. He reeked of toilet water, covered in bruises, his limp more pronounced than ever. But I knew better. This pitiful act was just a mask for the monster underneath. He was actually pretty strong, but he never fought back. He’d let the bullies have their way, never making a peep. His fingernails were long and grimy. His left hand was a mess, skin peeled off his index finger, the wound looking nasty. “Miss Summers, Ethan got beat up! The skin on his finger’s hanging off. What should we do?” The girls in our class were always ready to play hero, standing up for the underdog. Ethan gazed at me with puppy dog eyes, his nose scrunched up in pain, the sheen of oil on it making me want to gag. “Help me, Miss… please.” I was about to brush them off, tell them to take him to the nurse’s office, when our class monitor, Jenny, called out to me. “Miss Summers, don’t you have a first aid kit in your office? The nurse’s office is so far. Maybe we could patch him up real quick?” I paused, looking at his pleading eyes and his bleeding finger. Just then, the bell rang for the next class. I nodded. “Alright, come with me. The rest of you, get to class.” Ethan’s lips curled into a barely noticeable smirk. He followed me to the office. It was class time, so the place was deserted. I casually opened the first aid kit, pulling out alcohol, tweezers, and gauze. “Sit down. I’ll bandage you up.” The wind rustled the curtains, making the seashell wind chimes by the window tinkle softly. I gently cleaned his wound. He suddenly blushed. I asked, “What’s wrong?” “Miss Summers, you’re… you’re really pretty.” Ethan’s face turned beet red as he stammered out the compliment. Then his eyes glazed over, and I realized he was staring at my collarbone. While he was distracted, I smiled and plunged his entire finger into the bottle of alcohol. The skinned finger, raw and bloody, was now submerged in the nearly full bottle of medical-grade alcohol. “We need to disinfect it properly, okay?” He was horrified, trying to pull away, his face contorted in extreme pain. “It hurts! Miss, it really hurts!” But I kept smiling, gripping his wrist tightly, refusing to let go. The bottle’s narrow opening had practically swallowed his finger. I held it there until the blood turned the entire bottle of alcohol red. He’d bitten his lip bloody, eyes bulging, staring at me in utter shock. For the first time, I saw real hatred in his eyes.
But what he didn’t know was that in this life, I was a psycho who was all sunshine and rainbows to everyone else, but pure evil to him. His injury was bad enough that the school nurse sent him to the hospital. For the next few days, Ethan came to school with his hand all wrapped up. He tried hard in my class, always raising his hand to answer questions. I ignored him completely. Even when he won first prize in the school’s computer competition, bringing glory to our class, I didn’t say a word. The look in his eyes went from eager to dark. He once came to ask me directly: “Miss Summers, why don’t you ever acknowledge my efforts, no matter how hard I try?” I swiveled slightly in my office chair, not even looking at him. If compassion and kindness only bred betrayal, then in this life, I didn’t mind being the villain. As long as I could protect myself. “Because you don’t deserve it. Some things can’t be changed by effort alone, like your disgusting inner self, which is even uglier than your face.” Even now, I had good reason to say this. Just a few days ago, on my way home from work, I’d caught him torturing a stray cat. By the time I found them, the little white cat was already lifeless, scalded by boiling water. He’d smiled and said, “This haughty little cat scratched me. How could a cat be nobler than a human?” Now, Ethan glared at me with hatred, his hands clenching under his sleeves. I didn’t care. I kept giving him the cold shoulder. Even the head teacher noticed, frowning as he reminded me: “Sophie, teachers should treat all students equally. We shouldn’t be harsh on special cases, we should give them extra care.” But I didn’t mince words, saying right in front of Ethan: “What’s so special about him? He has hands and feet, he’s mentally sound. If we give him special treatment, is that fair to the other students?” He started to hate me, spreading rumors about me having a wild private life, seducing the principal, that sort of thing. But on the surface, he’d still flash me a grin and say hi when he saw me. As autumn turned to winter, Ethan started wearing shabby coats and ripped jeans, sticking out like a sore thumb. I’d heard he was orphaned young, raised by his grandma who spoiled him rotten. On my 25th birthday, I won the city’s Outstanding Teacher award. Double celebration. I had a great rapport with my students. This was the job I’d always dreamed of. Several students chipped in to buy me a huge, gorgeous bouquet. I accepted with a big smile. “Megan, Jenny, you both made the top ten in the recent mock exam. Didn’t you two want to be desk buddies before? I was worried you’d chat too much and fall behind, but now, go for it.” “Travis, your literature score’s looking up. Try to shift some focus from science and math to memorizing more poetry. Easy points, right?” As I was chatting with the students, I spotted an uninvited guest in the crowd. Ethan had brought me flowers too. Whether by accident or design, it was a single white rose, its petals crushed and oozing sap. Hideous. “Miss Summers, I saved up my allowance for a week to buy this for you. You have to like it, okay?” He held it out to me, hope shining in his eyes. My smile vanished. In front of all the teachers and students in the office, I picked it up with a tissue and dropped it on the floor. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Filthy.” Ethan’s lips quivered, but he bent down to pick up the flower without a word and walked away. The dark look in his eyes sent chills down my spine. But I didn’t look back. I wasn’t afraid of his hatred. He always preyed on those weaker than him, cowering before the strong.
Jack had earned a black belt in Taekwondo in his spare time. I’d picked up some self-defense moves from him, just in case. When I got home, my husband was waiting with a massive bouquet of roses, his voice soft and loving. “Happy birthday to my award-winning teacher, my beautiful Sophie!” Despite my excitement, I put on a sour face, feigning disappointment. Sure enough, over our candlelit dinner, Jack brought up his upcoming research trip abroad. “This research opportunity is crucial for my career advancement. Babe, I’m afraid I won’t be able to take care of you for these two months.” He sighed. My adamant refusal took him by surprise. I knew he wouldn’t believe in time travel or reincarnation. So instead, I said: “Jack, I had this awful dream the other day. After you left, someone broke into our home and… and tortured me. When you came back to avenge me, knife in hand, they killed you instead.” “Our family of three was destroyed, but the culprit got away scot-free.” “That’s impossible. We live in a society governed by law. Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit unstable lately.” He clasped my hand, concern etched on his face. In the end, after my relentless pleading, Jack decided to stay, giving up his research opportunity out of worry for me. I felt guilty about hindering his career, but it was getting close. That stormy night when Ethan would break into my home and ruin everything. Even though my attitude towards him was completely different this time, I couldn’t risk fate playing a cruel joke on me. I remembered clearly it was on a Friday. Ethan had followed me after school, begging me to let him in to escape the rain. But tonight, Jack was stuck in traffic and couldn’t make it home after work. After several unanswered calls, I started to get anxious. Soon, Jack sent me a text. “Honey, there are accidents all over due to the heavy rain. The highway’s jammed, I can’t get back. They’re not letting us use phones. Don’t wait up, okay?” By 10:30 PM, there was still no knock at the door. The rain was coming down harder, drowning out my chaotic thoughts. My taut nerves finally relaxed a bit. I was finally feeling sleepy, my body covered in cold sweat. I decided to take a shower and go to bed. The hot water felt good on my skin. In the bathroom mirror, I saw my reflection – delicate features, a straight nose, big doe eyes with long lashes, hinting at sensuality. I caressed my still-flat belly. Jack always said I was beautiful, and he wasn’t bad looking himself. Our baby would surely be a little angel. Lost in thought, I grabbed a towel to dry off. Just then, in the steamy mirror, a dark, grinning face appeared behind me, limping closer. It was Ethan! Sheer terror washed over me. This wasn’t a hallucination. He’d cracked my home security system. In my past life, when I’d let him in to escape the rain, he’d seen my door code. This time, to avoid bad luck, I’d changed the locks and even installed a reinforced security door. Only my fingerprint and Jack’s could open it. Had all my precautions been for nothing? Was I doomed to relive this nightmare? A cold, mud-caked hand reached in. I screamed, but my waist was suddenly gripped tight, another hand sliding upwards. “Miss Summers, it’s raining outside. I’m so cold. Can you… can you hold me?”
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