Michael Blaze—one of the undisputed golden boy of the campus and the heir to a fortune—stood before Tia. Seeing her in his usual seat, his first instinct was that this was another one of her clumsy attempts to get his attention.
"What do you want?" Tia asked, her voice dripping with a contempt she no longer bothered to hide.
"You're in my seat," he stated, leaning down to plant a proprietary hand on the desk.
Tia scoffed at his sheer audacity. In this life, she saw him for what he was: a spoiled boy, not a god. "Your name isn't written on it," she replied without a shred of remorse.
Michael's eyes widened. The classroom fell into a hushed silence. No one talked back to Michael Blaze. The girls usually tripped over themselves to breathe his air, and the guys trailed behind him like loyal subjects. He wasn't a typical bully, but he was a man who had never heard the word 'no.'
"Excuse me?" Michael narrowed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable apology. It didn't come. Tia didn't budge.
"I said your name isn't on it," she repeated, her gaze level and freezing. "I can sit wherever I please, and I'm not moving. If you want a seat, find another one."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Michael was genuinely speechless. This was the same Tia who used to buy him snacks every day and offered to do his assignments just for a glance. It was as if a completely different soul had hijacked her body. Everyone knew she had a crush on him—her every action screamed it—but this girl didn't look like she even liked him, let alone loved him.
Stella chose that moment to sweep in. Seeing the tension, she rushed to Michael's side, her voice a sugary caress. "I'm so sorry about that, Michael. Tia's just in a foul mood today." She reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm, but Michael flinched away, shoving her hand off before walking away in a grim silence.
Stella stood there, the sting of the public rejection burning her cheeks, but she quickly masked it with a concerned frown. She turned to Tia, her voice a sharp whisper. "What do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like?" Tia countered. "And why on earth are you apologizing to him? He has some nerve acting like he owns the floor tiles. Who does he think he is, the President?"
Stella's jaw dropped. The "nice" Tia she had manipulated for years was gone. "What is with you?" Stella hissed. "You're acting like a stranger."
Tia stared at her quietly. In Stella's face, she saw the woman who had slept with her husband and pushed her to her death. A fire roared in Tia's chest, but she kept her expression like stone. "Nothing is wrong with me. For the first time, I know exactly what I'm doing."
"Then why be so rude to Michael?" Stella pressed, searching for a crack in the armor.
"There's nothing special about Michael. I'll speak to him however I want."
The reply stunned Stella. A flicker of hope—and greed—ignited in her heart. If Tia was losing interest, that left Michael wide open for her. "You're right," Stella said, casting a longing glance toward Michael's new seat. "There really isn't anything special about him."
She was already laying the groundwork to steer Tia away, unaware that Tia saw through every lie. Tia felt a pang of disgust, remembering how she had once shared her deepest secrets with this snake. She pinched her own thigh under the desk, a silent penance for her past blindness.
"Are you going to sit, or just stand there?" Tia asked.
Stella sat, trying to break the ice with a joke, but the punchline landed with a thud. Tia didn't even crack a smile. The silence was deafening. Tia's mind drifted to the past—how she'd once worn her best clothes just for Michael to look past her, and how she'd let Stella use her to get closer to him. Her fists clenched white-knuckled under the table. She had to bury the rage; the game was just beginning.
From across the room, Michael found his gaze wandering back to the front row. He didn't even remember what Stella had said to him, but Tia's dismissal played on a loop in his mind.
His friend Marcus slid into the seat beside him. Marcus looked at the usual spot, then back at Michael. "Why is Tia in your chair?" he asked as they bumped fists.
"I don't know. She refused to move."
Marcus chuckled. "You're joking. That doesn't sound like Tia. That girl would cross the seven seas for a drop of your sweat."
"Well, not today," Michael muttered. They both laughed, but Michael's eyes didn't leave the back of Tia's head.
*****
When the lecture ended, the room emptied quickly. Usually, Tia was the first to grab Stella and head out, but today she stayed glued to her seat.
"Isn't it time to go?" Stella asked, hovering.
"I'm not leaving yet. Go ahead without me."
"Come on, Tia, let's go." Stella reached for Tia's arm, but Tia snapped it back.
"Leave me alone. I said I don't want to."
Stella froze, her irritation finally bubbling over. "What is actually wrong with you? You're acting like you don't even want me near you!"
"Well, I don't," Tia replied, her voice low and dangerous.
Stella gasped, her face contorting. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me," Tia said coldly.
Stella didn't wait for a third insult. She snatched her bag and stormed out, fuming. Tia watched her go, a small, dark satisfaction settling in her gut. "Nonsense," she whispered.
Tia thought she was alone, but Michael and Marcus were still lingering at the back. As they headed for the exit, Michael's eyes caught Tia's. She looked away instantly, the sight of him making her skin crawl. Michael felt a strange prick of annoyance; he had always enjoyed the ego boost her attention provided. Her sudden indifference felt like a personal insult.
Outside in the corridor, Stella was busy posing for selfies, trying to salvage her ego, when she spotted Michael. She smoothed her hair and intercepted him.
"Hi, Michael," she said, her voice dropping an octave.
Michael stopped. He didn't speak, waiting for her to get to the point. The intensity of his gaze made Stella stumble over her words. "I... I like your shoes."
Michael looked down. "Thank you."
"Where did you get them?"
"My mom bought them."
"That's cool," Stella chirped, sensing the conversation dying. "Don't be offended by Tia. I don't know what's gotten into her today either."
"It's fine. I'm not angry," Michael said, already stepping past her.
"Goodbye!" Stella waved, but he didn't look back. She stood there, her smile fading into a scowl of disappointment.
*****
Back in the empty classroom, Tia's composure finally broke. "I hate you so much, Michael," she whispered, tears finally escaping. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"
The phantom pain of his fists and the memory of the blood she lost during the miscarriage flooded back. Her head throbbed with the weight of fifteen years of trauma. "I loved you, and you repaid me with agony. Never again, you ungrateful fool."
She wiped her eyes, gathered her things, and walked out. The noise of the busy corridor washed over her, but she didn't hear it. She kept her head down, the ghosts of her past life racing alongside her as she stepped into a future she intended to write herself.