James scrambled for his phone on the nightstand, knocking over a half-empty water bottle in the process. His fingers fumbled with the screen, unlocking it on instinct. Instagram. Story tab. Melanie.

There it was, a photo she'd posted an hour ago. A blurry shot of her morning coffee with some indie song lyrics layered on top. She was alive. Real. Breathing.

She was here.

It still didn't feel real. After everything, after all that had happened, seeing her smile again, even just on his phone screen, felt like something sacred. Like a second chance.

But there was no time to sit with that.

James bolted upright, heart thudding fast. He needed to move. Now. Today wasn't just any day. It was the day. The day it all went wrong last time. The day he'd hesitated. The day Ashton got to Melanie before he could even open his mouth.

Not again.

He pulled on his clothes in a rush, barely managing to comb his hair before dashing out to the kitchen.

"You got ready so quickly," his grandmother said with a smile, placing a plate of pancakes on the table.

Hurriedly sitting down, James wolfed the meal down without a word. Every bite felt like chewing on air, but he forced it down. He couldn't afford to be late. Not today.

"I made extra pancakes. Share it with Cole too," his grandma said, sliding a small box into his bag. Her smile faltered when he barely acknowledged it. And he was already tying his shoelaces and running out the door.

The morning air bit at his cheeks as he sprinted toward the bus stop. Sweat beaded at his brow despite the chill.

I won't let him take her this time.

He reached the stop, breath ragged, only to find a small group of students already waiting. No bus yet.

His eyes drifted across the street, and his stomach turned.

The flower shop.

It stood just like it did that day, neat and unassuming, a small chalkboard sign propped outside reading Fresh blooms today!

He remembered it so clearly. That day, the way he'd run into the store, palms sweating, picking out the reddest rose they had. He'd missed the bus. Had to take the next one.

By the time he got to school, Ashton was already there. Already standing in front of Melanie. Already smiling.

Already winning.

James clenched his jaw and looked away from the shop. No rose this time. Ashton didn't have flowers.

But Ashton didn't need anything. He had charm, and money, and girls who practically begged for his attention.

And James wasn't Ashton.

But that was okay.

He didn't need to be better than him. He just needed to be faster. This wasn't about impressing Melanie anymore. It was about protecting her. From him. From what she didn't know.

From what he did.

The bus screeched to a stop in front of him, and the doors wheezed open. He got in, body bumping against the wave of other students cramming inside. Elbows jabbed at his sides. Someone's bag hit his back. But he held on tight to the metal bar, eyes fixed ahead like a soldier heading to war.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't need to look-he knew it was Cole. Texting him if he was really going through with it. If he was actually going to confess to Melanie. He remembered this part too well. He had read that message while waiting for the next bus. So this time, he didn't check it.

The only thing that mattered now was getting there before Ashton did.

The ride felt like forever. When the school gate finally came into view, James was already pushing through the crowd, heart climbing into his throat.

Then he saw it.

A sleek black car parked at the students' parking.

Ashton's car.

He was already here.

"No, no, no-" James broke into a sprint, lungs burning, legs screaming with each step.

His backpack slammed against his spine as he tore down the path toward the main entrance. The hallway loomed ahead like the mouth of a beast, inevitable, and full of the past.

He couldn't let it happen again.

This time, he would get there first.

This time, he would save her.

Ashton walked through the hallway, half-lost in thought, eyes fixed on a single figure at the far end of the hall.

Melanie.

She stood by her locker, as she pulled out a notebook, her ponytail swinging over her shoulder. A few girls clustered nearby, but to Ashton, the rest of the world had dimmed. His chest was tight. With something hard to name. Something heavy and aching.

James.

His face appeared in Ashton's mind. The look on his face when he was staring at Melanie yesterday. The way he had looked down at his hands and whispered to Cole, "I'm going to do it."

Those words had burrowed under Ashton's skin. The thought of James, his mate standing in front of a girl, offering her his heart, made Ashton feel like he was suffocating.

But even as he took step after step down the corridor toward Melanie, something shifted. It was subtle at first. A twinge in his gut. A tremble under his skin. His heartbeat wavered.

Is this right?

He slowed down.

Why did his legs suddenly feel heavy? Why did the air feel thicker? Why did the sight of her standing by the locker make his stomach twist?

This doesn't feel like the path we were meant to take, Lupus murmured.

Ashton didn't respond. He stopped a few feet away, unsure. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides.

A strange ache bloomed in his chest, like something buried long ago was trying to claw its way out.

And then-

A flash of movement.

"ASHTON!"

James.

He came barreling down the hallway, eyes wide, panic carved into every line of his face. He didn't stop, didn't even hesitate, just lunged forward and shoved him out of the way.

Startled, Ashton stumbled back a step, blinking in confusion.

What the-?

But James was already in front of Melanie, panting, voice cracking as he said, "I like you!"

Ashton stood frozen, the world suddenly still around him.

He stood there, heart pounding, watching as his James finally took a shaky step back from Melanie, his gaze fixed on her face, his throat tightening with every breath he swallowed.

"What?" Melanie blinked, brows furrowing in confusion.

"I like you. Very much," James blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Go out with me!"

Melanie blinked, clearly caught off guard. She looked at him for a beat, lips parting in silence. Then, with a dry chuckle and a shake of her head, she muttered, "I don't like you."

James's breath hitched.

"Sorry. I don't even know your last name," she added flatly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder like they were talking about the weather. "That's kind of weird, don't you think?"

And just like that, she turned.

No drama. No pause. Just a shrug and silence as she walked away.

A stunned hush swept the hallway followed by a wave of whispers.

Then came the laughter.

It started soft, a few stifled snickers. But it spread quickly. A ripple of amusement passed through the crowd as students nudged each other and exchanged glances.

"Brutal," someone muttered.

"Damn, he really thought-"

"I'd die if that happened to me," a girl whispered behind her hand, giggling.

James stood frozen, staring after Melanie, his expression cracking, hope crumbling.

Ashton couldn't help it.

Relief bubbled up in his chest, sharp and bright. He tried not to smile. Bit the inside of his cheek. Focused on his shoes. But a flicker of satisfaction curled the corner of his lips.

Until-

"Melanie-wait!"

Ashton's head snapped up.

James was chasing after her. Again. Desperation thick in his voice as he reached for her hand, catching it in both of his.

"Please, just hear me out," he begged, breathless. "I've... I've liked you for almost a year. I know I sound crazy, but I've been watching from afar. I just didn't have the courage before. But I swear, I'll treat you right. Not like Ash...I mean...Just..please, give me a chance."

Melanie's expression hardened.

She yanked her hand free like his touch burned her. "Are you serious right now? Didn't I just tell you clearly?!"

James flinched.

"You really think I'd date you?" she scoffed, her eyes narrowing with disdain. "You aren't my type, James. Why should I go out with you?" Her gaze dropped to his worn-out sneaker, the toe fraying at the edge. "Why would I want a guy who can't even take care of himself, let alone someone else?" she paused as if surprised by her own words, then took a sharp breath and looked back at his face. "I'm sorry, James."

Another round of murmurs echoed in the hallway. Someone gasped. A few kids laughed, louder this time, less restrained.

"Holy crap..."

"She went savage on him."

"Did you hear what she said?"

The words hit like a slap.

Ashton felt it too. Felt it like a blow to his own chest as he saw James's face fall, his lips parting, but no words coming out.

He looked so small. So shattered.

Ashton's fists clenched.

That was enough.

As Melanie strode off, heels tapping against the floor, Ashton stepped forward.

But James spun around, eyes blazing.

"Stay away from her!" he growled, voice low and shaking with rage.

Ashton froze. "What...?"

James's eyes were wild, rimmed with unshed tears and something darker.

Ashton opened his mouth, but no words came.

"I swear to god, Ashton," James said, jaw clenched so tight it trembled, "if you ask her out, I'll kill you."

And then he turned and walked away.

Gasps scattered across the hallway. Everyone had gone quiet at first, too stunned to react. But now the tension snapped.

"No way! Did he just threaten Ashton?"

A few students exchanged wide-eyed glances. Someone let out a low whistle. Whispers swirled in every direction.

"That was... intense."

"They're seriously fighting over her?"

"Is James okay?

"But Ashton didn't even say anything..."

The crowd didn't move, didn't leave.

Ashton stood there frozen. He heard nothing except the echo of footsteps ringing in his ears. His heart pounding hard against his chest.

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

The look on James's face-rage twisted with disgust-played over and over in his mind. That wasn't the boy he knew. Not the warm, soft-spoken soul whose smile felt like home.

Why did it feel like something had cracked wide open between them?

His hands trembled at his sides, nails digging into his palms, trying to hold himself together. But the words echoed. I'll kill you.

His mate had looked at him like he was his enemy.

And that hurt more than anything.

James sat slumped over his desk in first hour, History, barely hearing the dull drone of chatter around him. It all felt far away. Like he was submerged underwater, listening to the world through thick ice.

He stared blankly at his desk, jaw tight, knuckles white where his hands clenched together in his lap.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

He had hope. He really thought this time would be different. Why else would he be given a second chance? Why else would the universe wind the clock back, place them all here again, at the start?

If it was just going to happen the same way again, what was the point?

What was the point of living it all over?

A flash of Ashton's face hit him like a punch to the gut. The way he had stood there, silent, expression unreadable.

He couldn't believe he'd actually said it. That he'd threatened Ashton Everett, the rich, gym-obsessed jerk with murder if he so much as thought about dating Melanie. What the hell had he been thinking?

He'd never seen Ashton fight, but the rumors were loud enough: he'd transferred here after beating someone to a pulp at his last school. Was that what was about to happen to him? Was Ashton going to kill him before he ever got the chance?

And worse-what if Ashton confessed to her again?

James's stomach twisted.

Then everything will happen exactly like before.

She'll fall for him.

And she'll die.

His breath hitched. He blinked rapidly, trying to force down the sting in his eyes. He couldn't let that happen again. But what was he supposed to do?

He couldn't tell her. Not the truth. She'd never believe him.

"Hey."

James blinked, head jerking up at the sound of the familiar voice. Cole slid into the seat beside him, setting his bag down and eyeing him closely.

"Are you okay? I heard what happened," he said, lowering his voice.

James didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted toward the window, toward the soft light spilling through the glass. His throat was tight. His lips eventually parted, but the words felt heavy.

"She said I was not-" He stopped, breath faltering. "She looked at me like I was trash. Like I was nothing."

Silence hung thick between them.

Cole reached out slowly, hand brushing James's sleeve. "James..."

"She looked at my shoes. My shoes, Cole. Like that was all I was worth." James said hollowly, voice cracking. The pain in his chest burned sharp.

Cole's face darkened. "She doesn't deserve you," he muttered. "You should've never wasted your time on her. You know what, she'll probably end up dating some jerk and then she'll regret-"

"Cole, stop," James cut in, his voice low, strained. "It's fine. I'm fine. She's right, anyway."

Cole blinked. "What?"

"I don't deserve her," James said quietly, eyes fixed on the scratched surface of his desk. "She's... too good for me."

"No," Cole said sharply. "You're too good for her. And one day she's going to realize that-"

"Stop it, Cole!" James snapped, louder than he meant to. His voice cracked with fear. "I don't want her to regret anything. I don't want it to happen. I'll never let that happen!"

Cole's brows pulled together. "What are you talking about?"

James's chest rose and fell with shaky breaths. He looked down, voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay if she rejected me. That doesn't matter anymore. But I still have to protect her."

Cole stared at him, confusion etched across his face.

"I didn't just come back to watch it happen all over again," James murmured. "I came back to stop it."

"What...?" Cole asked, searching James's face. "What do you mean?"

Before James could answer, the classroom door creaked open.

Mr. Hart walked in with a loud sigh, books tucked under one arm. "Seats, everyone."

Chairs scraped against the floor. James turned his face away. But Cole was still staring at him. "Nothing. I'm fine," he mumbled before slipping into silence.