As I stood there, Vanessa leaned in with her phone, her wide eyes brimming with urgency. Instinctively, I took a step back.

"Lucy, this activity ends at six o'clock this evening," she said, her voice dripping with desperation. "I've gotten everyone else in the class to help, and I just need one more like to hit the target. Yours."

Her plea struck me like an unwanted tug on my sleeve, but I didn't hesitate in my response. "Vanessa, I'm sorry, but my phone's dead," I said flatly, shaking my head as though that settled the matter.

But Vanessa wasn't about to let it go. She advanced on me like a phantom from the abyss, her persistence unsettling. "I have a power bank! Here, use it!" Her voice trembled with urgency, her eyes glinting with a mix of insistence and something darker.

"Please, Lucy," she continued, layering her words with guilt. "150 dollars might not mean much to you, but to me, it's everything."

Her words wrapped themselves around me like chains. The sweat on my back had nothing to do with the heat of the room. "I really can't like it," I murmured, my discomfort plain.

Vanessa's eyes reddened, brimming with unshed tears. Around us, murmurs began to ripple through the crowd of onlookers.

"Is it really that big of a deal to just hit 'like'?"

"Wow, what a drama queen. 150 bucks probably means nothing to her. She doesn't get what it's like for us regular folks."

"I honestly don't get how someone like her ends up as student body president or gets a free pass into grad school."

"Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth, thinking they're royalty."

"Seriously, it's just a click. We're all classmates here. And it's just one little like, what's the harm?"

Their judgments came in waves, drowning me in their disdain. They cast their gazes upon me, filled with an unspoken demand: like the post, or face their wrath.

Vanessa sniffled, adding to the drama. "It'll only take a few seconds, Lucy. Please. After graduation, I won't have a dorm anymore. I don't have the luxury of going to grad school—I need this room to start my internship!"

Her performance was flawless, her voice trembling with grief, her words laden with pity. "My mother passed away when I was young," she added, her voice cracking. "Every penny counts for me."

The air grew thick with reproachful silence as all eyes turned to me, their weight like stones on my chest.

Then, as if on cue, my phone chimed with a notification.

Vanessa's head snapped toward the sound. "Oh, so your phone's not dead after all," she said with a triumphant sneer, plucking the device from my hands before I could react..

Gasps and murmurs erupted around us. "Just one like, Lucy. It won't kill you," someone sneered.

"Vanessa's from a poor family. Can't you have a little empathy?"

"Yeah, must be nice being born into privilege," another remarked, their tone soaked in mockery.

Their words cornered me, leaving no room for escape. My gaze darted around the room until it landed on the sports committee member, returning with a thermos of hot water. Inspiration struck.

"Fine, Vanessa," I relented. "I'll give you the like."

As I reached for my phone, I "accidentally" bumped into the sports committee member. The thermos tilted, spilling scalding water all over my hand and my phone.

The room froze as everyone stared. My skin flushed red from the burn, and my phone lay on the ground, its screen shattered and lifeless.

"I—I'm so sorry!" the committee member stammered, his face red with panic.

I smiled through the pain, shaking my head. "It's okay. It was my fault for not holding it properly," I said, feeling a weight lift off my chest.

"Are you sure you didn't burn yourself?" He was relieved and practically moved to tears. After all, this phone was the latest model—worth several months' worth of his living expenses.

This scene made the crowd falter. Whispers of guilt replaced their earlier judgment.

"Maybe we were too harsh on Lucy," someone murmured.

"She's really considerate. Not at all a spoiled brat," another added, their tone softer now.

I glanced at my phone, now showing a black screen, and sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa," I said, turning to Vanessa. "I can't give you the like. This rental agency is really sketchy. You're a girl—what if you get tricked and taken to some countryside village?"

I added suddenly, "Who offers that many discounts on rent, anyway? What's your internship place? Where are you planning to rent?"

I stared intently at Vanessa, noticing her face pale slightly when I mentioned the countryside.

Clearly, Vanessa felt guilty, but she only made up something vague about a small neighborhood near our school.

"But tell you what—if you're looking for a safe place to stay, I actually own a unit in that neighborhood you mentioned. Here are the keys. You can have it at the same discount you were trying to earn. Consider it my way of helping you out," I said.

It dawned on everyone—this wasn't just some small gift.

Besides, for a girl, safety was the most important.

"Wow, Lucy's really thoughtful. She's beautiful and kind-hearted. I apologize for my earlier rudeness," someone remarked.

"Vanessa's so lucky," another chimed in.

Everyone turned their support toward me, offering sincere praise.

Vanessa accepted the keys I handed her with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Lucy," she said, her voice strained.

I nodded, slipping out of the room with an apology about needing to get my phone repaired. As the door closed behind me, I slipped a single strand of Vanessa's hair into my pocket without anyone noticing.

When I arrived home, a deep sense of dread still lingered in my heart, as though I had narrowly escaped some terrible calamity.

"Lucy, are you alright?" my brother asked, his hand resting gently on my head, his eyes filled with concern.

I nodded, though my thoughts were far from settled. My gaze drifted to my father, who stood nearby with an expression of worry etched across his face. I wanted to question him, to demand answers about everything that had been gnawing at my mind.

But the memories of my past life—those harrowing moments—stopped me. My lips parted, but no words came out.

Instead, my eyes found the photo of my mother resting on the mantle. A wave of confusion washed over me. I was said to be the spitting image of her, a perfect replica of her beauty and grace. Moreover, in families like ours, DNA tests were as routine as annual check-ups, a safeguard against any mischief or doubts about lineage.

Could genes... mutate?

"Dad, brother, I need to step out for a bit," I said abruptly.

Quietly, I swiped a strand of hair from both of them before slipping out.

I made my way to a lab and submitted the samples for an expedited DNA test. My hands trembled as I handed over the evidence.

Later, as I inserted my SIM card into my new phone, a news alert appeared on the screen.

"Collision on the Basentine Bridge: Car and Truck Crash Erupts in Flames."

The cold sweat on my back turned to ice. This was the very accident that had disfigured Penelope in my previous life. Could it be that the gears of fate were grinding forward once again?

There was no time to waste. I had to confirm my suspicions at the hospital.

I hailed a cab and raced to the emergency ward, charging through the corridors with a singular determination. My memory guided me to the room she had been in during my past life, but my haste led me to collide with someone in the hallway.

"I knew it would be you," said a calm, chilling voice.

I turned to find Nathan staring at me.

"I remember it clearly. Last time around, Vanessa's social media posts had both your likes and mine," he said, his voice heavy with meaning.

I froze. "You've... come back too?"

"It's not just me," Nathan replied, his gaze hardening. "Penelope as well."

"So none of us liked her posts this time?" I asked, bewildered.

"Yet the car accident happened anyway," Nathan murmured, his face darkening.

There was no time to unpack his cryptic reply. Together, we decided to find Penelope and get to the bottom of it.

I pushed open the hospital room door, heart pounding. Inside, a pale young woman lay waiting for us, as though she had anticipated our arrival. A bitter smile stretched across her face.

"I've been expecting you," Penelope said softly.

In hurried words, the three of us pieced together our fragmented experiences. Her expression was laced with bitterness as she spoke.

"I distinctly remember the three of us liking her posts in our past life," Penelope said. "At that time, I was doing very well for myself. Director Mason praised my audition and told me the role seemed made for me. But after liking Vanessa's post, the accident happened. My face was ruined, and Vanessa—who started looking more and more like me—snatched the role by boldly recommending herself to the director."

Her voice trembled with frustration. "This time, I blocked her outright and ignored her requests for likes. Yet the same accident occurred. But I managed to crawl out of the wreckage this time... before the flames consumed me."

I stared at the swaths of white gauze, emotions swirling. For an actress, a face is everything.

"Is it bad?" Nathan asked, his tone grave.

Penelope sighed. "Just minor injuries. It'll heal with treatment. At least it won't affect my ability to work."

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the shrill ringtone of Penelope's phone.

"Hello? Desmond, what's up?" she answered.

Suddenly, her voice grew sharp with panic. "What? Director Mason replaced me? How is that possible? He said the role was perfect for me!"

Penelope gasped in shock, her eyes flashing with deep confusion.

"Okay, I understand." Her face turned ghostly pale as she hung up.

"It's gone. The role is gone... again." Despair clouded her features. "Where did I go wrong? We started over—why hasn't anything changed?"

"Look at this," Nathan interrupted, thrusting his phone toward me. Vanessa's latest post stared back at us: a boastful update about her success in collecting likes for both the tutoring and rental agency.

[Hey, fam! All three posts have received enough likes! Thank you for your support! (rose emoji)]

I took out my own phone and logged into the school forum with my admin credentials. Sure enough, the top trending post read: Chemistry Department Genius's Paper Suspected of Fraud, the Hardships Behind the Glorious Achievements of a Countryside Student!"

As if on cue, a notification from the DNA lab buzzed on my phone. My hands shook as I opened it.

The results confirmed Vanessa's identity as the biological child of my dad.

And me? Just like in my past life, I was nothing more than a fraud—a cuckoo in another's nest.