When I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day I first sponsored Janice.

Everything that happened before I died felt like a dream, albeit one I could not brush off.

Sounds of a quarrel pulled me back to the present, and I wiped the wetness from the corner of my eyes. I turned to take a look.

The shouting was from our school's notorious delinquent and her clique. It was no secret that they loved bullying the weak, and their target today was none other than Janice.

At this time, Janice still wore her hair short with thick bangs. Coupled with her thick black glasses, she looked the epitome of a teacher's pet.

In a prestigious school like ours, family business and status determined how we were treated. Janice, lacking both, became the bullies' top choice for their target.

Last time, I fell for her innocent facade. This time, I gathered my books and walked past.

Just as I left the room, Janice called out after me, "Sylvia! Y-you're just going to leave? Aren't you going to save me?"

I scoffed internally, 'So she came back too, huh.'

The delinquent looked at me with contempt. "Hey. This is none of your business. Move along, or else…"

I glanced at Janice and interrupted, "Sorry, do I know you?"

The delinquent laughed and grabbed a fistful of Janice's hair. Tilting her head back, she slapped Janice across the face. "What a wretch! I was almost worried someone would come and save you!"

Janice's cheeks were bruising red. "N-No!"

Tears streamed from suspicious eyes.

I left before Janice could say another word, ignoring her wails of agony from behind me.

I had always kept a low profile at school, so no one really knew about my family’s assets.

If not for the luxurious one-of-a-kind necklace I wore, I could have become the delinquents’ next victim.

When I saved Janice, I told her to come to me if she needed help. Perhaps it was to thank me, but she began to take care of my daily needs.

Rumors of my new ‘pet’ began to spread, and I tried to get her to stop, but she insisted anyway. I assumed this was her way of showing gratitude, so I left her alone.

Less than a month later, she came crying to me about how she had nowhere to stay and no money for school.

She kept insisting that I assist her, claiming I had ‘helped her so many times before anyway.’

Every time I hesitated, she would plead, beg, and even prostrate herself, not giving up until I finally agreed.

I was too young and naive then. I did not know how to reject her, so I made a decision that I would regret for the rest of my life.

Mom was making my dad’s favorite soup when I got home.

She was surprised to see me. “You’re back early, Sylvia!”

I rushed over to hug her. She was warm and alive in my arms. This was real.

“I missed you so much, Mom,” I murmured, hugging her tightly.

This time, I would do anything to prevent the past from happening again.

Frowning, I pulled Mom out of the kitchen and told her what had happened in our past life.

My mom reached out to feel my forehead, but I pulled her hand away.

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m telling the truth. You should get a divorce.” My eyes were sharp.

My mom fell silent. I knew she would believe me, even if no one else did.

“Alright, Sylvia. I’ll consider it. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She hugged me tightly.

My mother was born into a wealthy family. She lived a privileged and dignified life.

She was an only child, so my grandparents gave her all their love and attention.

They did not like the idea of my mother marrying a penniless intern at the company. Still, they conceded in the end after my mother threatened her life for him.

My dad, the intern, was thankfully a diligent worker and had achieved small successes after marrying my mom.

Seeing his efforts, my grandparents decided to hand over the company to him. In return, they asked that he treat their daughter with love and care.

Grandfather even apologized for being harsh to him in the beginning too.

It was not long before they passed, and without anyone to stand up for my mother, my father began to revert to his true aggressive self.

He had not physically harmed my mother yet, but his words were rarely kind. He would shout at her whenever something did not go his way.

“You have no idea how many beautiful women outside would beg for my attention and time! And you can’t even do this right!”

I did not need a father like that. My mother certainly does not need a husband like him.