Ryan’s social media updated again.

“Emily, what kind of confession could ever show you how much I like you?”

I closed my eyes slowly and answered that question.

“I want to leave him…”

“If you’re certain, there’ll be no turning back. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

When I regained consciousness, evening was already approaching.

The party had begun.

My phone buzzed with messages asking when I’d arrive—not a single one from Ryan.

When I finally got to the Karaoke Room, I heard Ryan’s voice from inside.

“My confession plan has to stay secret. I can’t let it fail.”

His tone carried both excitement and anticipation.

“Ryan, haven’t you ever thought about Claire? You two grew up together. I don’t think she’s any worse than Emily.”

Ryan went silent for a while.

“We’re just friends. I could never like her. To me, she’s nothing more than a friend—past, present, or future.”

In that moment, my heart clenched like it was being torn apart.

“Ryan, don’t get ahead of yourself. What if Emily ends up marrying someone else? What would you do then? Find another girl just like her?”

Ryan didn’t respond.

I guessed he took those words to heart—that’s why the me ten years later would exist.

“If you’re not interested in Claire, then I’ll go after her. A girl that good, and you don’t even notice? I’d be more than happy to.”

Ryan chuckled.

“Be my guest. Honestly, after spending so many years with her, I’m kind of tired of it.”

His joke wasn’t funny.

“What are you doing blocking the doorway? Playing thief?”

Emily walked in, her high heels clicking, disdain written on her face.

I shook my head.

She glanced at me, said nothing more, and brushed past me into the room.

“Emily.”

The moment she appeared, Ryan’s eyes only had room for her.

“Emily, you took forever in the bathroom. Claire, you’re here too? You’re late.”

A few friends greeted me casually, but they were quick to arrange Ryan and Emily side by side.

“Let’s play a game!”

Some of our old friends suggested Truth or Dare, that favorite teenage pastime.

The first round landed on Ryan.

He chose truth.

“Is there someone here you like?”

Ryan smiled, sneaking glances at Emily again and again.

“There is.”

Everyone had already seen his lovestruck posts online—they were just teasing.

But I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

The second round landed on Emily.

“You have to pick a dare! Choose a guy here and share a drinking challenge with him!”

Ryan looked at her, his gaze bold and heated.

The same gaze he gave me at our wedding when I was twenty-eight.

Maybe, even then, in his heart, I was no longer me. I was Emily.

Emily chose Ryan.

Their cheeks flushed pink, looking every bit the young couple.

I sat in the corner, a clown peeking at someone else’s happiness.

The third round landed on me.

I couldn’t bring myself to spill my truth, so I picked a dare.

“Choose a guy here and share a cookie stick!”

I glanced nervously at Ryan.

He avoided my eyes, head lowered, fingers busy typing a message.

“Don’t pick me. Emily’s watching.”

Seeing those words on his lock screen, I suddenly felt ridiculous.

The guy beside me nudged me with his elbow.

“You can pick me.”

It was the same boy who had been talking to Ryan earlier—Jason Reed.

I drew a deep breath and pointed at him.

“I’ll pick him.”

Ryan had thought I’d choose to drink instead. He froze, stunned.

As Jason and I leaned closer, Ryan’s bottle slipped from his hand, beer spilling.

He stormed out of the Karaoke Room, and right then, my phone buzzed with his message.

“Come out.”

The moment I stepped outside, Ryan dragged me into a corner.

“Claire Miller, when did you become so shallow? Playing games that far?”

I almost laughed. Now he cared about what I did?

“So what? It was just a game. Didn’t you just do a drinking challenge with Emily?”

Ryan’s face darkened.

“That’s different—I like her. Do you really think that guy likes you? You honestly believe that? You’re way too full of yourself!”

His rapid-fire questions left me shaken.

In my daze, I remembered the twenty-eight-year-old version of this man telling me:

“Claire, you’ve always been worthy of love.”

“Ryan, in your eyes, am I really not even worthy of being loved?”

The grievance surged up, stinging my nose.

“What else would you expect?”

The words slipped out, and then he turned, noticing my reddened eyes. Regret flickered across his face.

“You… forget it. Just don’t be so reckless anymore.”

Ryan spun around and walked back into the Karaoke Room.

I squatted down in the alley, feeling like these seven days were a form of torture.

“So pathetic, Claire. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you like him?”

It was Emily.

“Claire, I hate people touching what’s mine. I’ve tolerated you because Ryan kept bringing you along. But from now on, I hope you’ll have some self-awareness and stay away from him.”

I stood up, forcing a bitter smile.

“Don’t worry. I won’t anymore.”

No sooner had I spoken than a man rushed out of the alley, grabbing Emily’s wrist.

“You little tramp, finally found you. Thought you could ghost me, huh?”

Emily’s face went pale, terror flashing across it.

It was the first time I’d ever seen her look so scared.

He tried to drag her away.

I mustered every ounce of strength, shoving him back and pulling Emily behind me.

The man stumbled, nearly falling.

“I’m warning you. My friends are coming out any second. Don’t you dare make a move.”

He spat on the ground.

“Who cares? Think I’m scared? I’ll beat you too if you don’t get out of the way!”

He raised his fist.

I shut my eyes, Ryan’s face filling my mind.

But the pain never came. Instead, I heard the sounds of fists colliding.

When I opened my eyes, the thug was on the ground, Ryan’s fist clenched, his glare fierce.

“Ry—”

“Emily!”

Our voices overlapped.

I looked at him. He looked at her.

Ryan rushed past me, frantic, checking Emily for injuries.

In another world, when I’d run into danger on my way home, Ryan had descended like this too.

But that Ryan had held me tight, afraid I’d get hurt.

“I’m fine, Ryan.”

Only then did he breathe out in relief.

The thug staggered to his feet, pointing at me.

“You’ll regret this!”

Then he bolted.

Ryan frowned at me.

“Claire Miller, was this trouble your doing again? You’re getting more and more reckless.”

Ryan Cooper’s face showed nothing but open disgust as he pulled Emily Carter away.

“I’ll take Emily home first. Wait here—I need to talk to you afterward.”

Emily glanced at me a few times but said nothing, following Ryan.

Maybe I should never have come in the first place.

This time, I didn’t wait for Ryan. I went straight home.

In my world, I had no parents—only Grandma.

Near midnight, I was bent over my diary, writing.

The door suddenly flew open, Ryan storming in.

As I quickly shut the diary, a sticky note slipped out.

On it were the words: Ryan Cooper, I like you.

Ryan’s face darkened when he saw it.

“You like me?”

There was no joy in his expression—only disgust.

I stayed silent, turning my head away.

“Claire, we should keep our distance. You know perfectly well that I like Emily.”

My voice rasped.

“I will.”

And just like that, we stopped seeing each other.

“Claire, no matter how out of line you’ve been, I hope you won’t drag Emily into this. She’s a good girl.”

Eyes burning, I tilted my head up at him.

“In your eyes, does that make me a bad girl? Ryan, was there ever even the tiniest flicker of feeling for me? Not even a little?”

Ryan stayed silent.

And that silence was his answer.

“I understand.”

Ryan met my gaze.

“Claire, as long as you admit your mistakes and stop interfering, we can still be friends. On the way back, Emily was even defending you—she said you didn’t mean to, that it wasn’t all your fault.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

“So, what, I should thank her for that?”

My sarcastic tone only fueled Ryan’s displeasure.

“Claire, when did you become so unreasonable? I came here thinking I’d comfort you, but clearly that was a mistake.”

His brows knit tightly.

“You know I like Emily, so stay away from me. Don’t upset her.”

Ryan stepped back, widening the space between us.

“Claire, I think being liked by you is disgusting. I don’t want to see you in college. Stay away from our world.”

With that, Ryan left.

From behind me, I pulled out the diary.

The only proof that the twenty-eight-year-old Ryan had ever existed.

The only thing I had carried with me from the other world.

That night, I scrolled across Ryan’s social media.

He was planning a confession.

And the date was just three days away.

During those three days, I left Grandma with relatives and gave her all my part-time job savings.

I burned everything that had anything to do with Ryan.

On the day of his confession, I still pathetically wanted to hide in the corner—just to see him one more time.

But less than three hundred meters from the venue, I ran into that thug again.

He had a knife in his hand, and six or seven more thugs followed close behind.

“Boss, is that her?”

Sensing danger, I turned and ran.

In a panic, I dialed Ryan.

The phone rang for three seconds before being cut off.

I tried again—same thing. Three seconds, then disconnected.

When I dialed a third time, his phone was already turned off.

Dragged into a dark alley, I had no idea that Ryan was at that very moment adjusting his suit, checking the bouquet for his big confession.