After putting college on hold and opting for a chill year, I dropped out of the National Architecture Design Contest.

My boyfriend didn't bat an eye, but his crush, a freshman cutie, was on my case non-stop, demanding to know why I threw in the towel.

Meanwhile, I was hanging out with penguins in Antarctica, way too busy to entertain her drama.

In my past life, that very freshman snagged the top prize with a design that was a carbon copy of mine.

She submitted hers first, bagging the recommendation for grad school and scoring a primo gig at a leading company.

I ended up being branded a copycat, took heat from the whole school, and saw my rep go down in flames—nailed to the wall of shame forever.

I tried to set the record straight, but no one was buying what I was selling.

Ms. Freshman took to the web, waved her depression diagnosis around, and accused me of non-stop harassment post my botched plagiarism stint.

My family got dragged through the mud online, and while dodging back to our small-town hideout, my parents died in a crash.

My little sister survived but ended up being a shell of herself, stuck in a coma.

I was so broken, I took the leap.

But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out—how did she submit her design before mine when it was mine all along?

Blinking back to reality, I was back just a day before the finals.

——

"Nina, your design is freaking genius! If you don't snag first at the nationals, it's totally rigged!"

"For real, Nina's work is the bomb—innovative and practical. She's totally the blueprint for us!"

As the praise from my classmates washed over me, I snapped awake, my heart thumping like a drum solo.

Looking around at those familiar faces, a wave of emotions hit me, almost making me burst into tears.

I was back—I had a second shot at this!

My advisor peered over my design and couldn't help but nod in approval.

"Nina, nail the finishing touches. I'm betting on you to clinch this one. Do it for yourself, and do it for the school's glory too."

If I nailed this competition, I might just land a job at Prime Design Studio, the industry's top design firm.

It had always been my dream.

Watching the pride wash over my teachers' and classmates' faces, my heart sank, heavy like a rock—I was barely breathing.

It was déjà vu all over again.

I had poured my soul into this contest, convinced I had crafted the perfect entry.

But as soon as I logged on to check my ranking, I was met with a public denouncement from the organizers on their official site, slamming me for ripping off the top entry, scrubbing my scores, and booting me out of the competition.

The school quickly fell in line, issuing me a formal warning and broadcasting a school-wide reprimand.

There went my grad school prospects, and all my four-year efforts went in vain.

After the plagiarism fiasco, everywhere I turned, whether online or on campus, was just another place to face insults.

[Nina Carter, parading around as plagiarism royalty, who does she think she is?]

[Heard Nina used to be top of her class. Bet those perfect designs were all knock-offs!]

[Going all out with plagiarism at a national competition? Talk about embarrassing us!]

Those comments clung to me like a bad smell, not giving me a second of peace.

In an industry that prizes originality above all, my blatant copy-pasting had torpedoed any future career hopes.

That plagiarist tag was tattooed on me for good.

But I hadn't stolen anyone's ideas, not really.

Maybe the universe felt sorry for me and decided to throw me a bone.

I couldn't resist; I pulled out my phone and scrolled through someone's social media.

Sarah Michaels, a year below me in the same department.

She was my supposed plagiarism victim in another life.

Crowned campus beauty from day one, she had half the guys tripping over themselves to do her bidding. My guy, Steven, included.

Steven was all-in, fetching her packages and buying her lunch without fail. Come holiday time, he even whipped up gifts for her, playing her lapdog to the hilt.

I griped to Steven about his over-the-top care for Sarah, but he just brushed it off, claiming he was just being a good guy and accused me of being small-minded.

Sarah was a regular at the bottom of our class—everyone figured she was just a pretty face with no real chops.

Yet, she walked away with first place in the NADC, got her ticket to grad school, and even caught the eye of Prime Design Studio with her winning entry.

And it was her design that was an exact replica of mine.

In my past life, I dug in my heels, desperate to prove my innocence.

But Sarah went and posted her entire design process online, from initial sketches to the final details.

The kicker? Her submission timestamp was earlier than mine.

Not only did I fail to clear my name, I was hammered even harder.

Watching her pitying look, Sarah sweetly said, "Nina, I know you've always been top-notch, but this time, it looks like you copied me. You owe me an apology."

Standing right there with her, Steven chimed in loudly, "Nina, you're gross. Ripping off Sarah's work and still denying it? The proof's all there. What's your excuse now?"

Up to my last breath, it baffled me.

How could our designs be identical, right down to the minutest details?

But hey, I got a redo.

This time, I'm determined to rewrite my story!

Once everyone had left, I nervously tore up my nearly finished blueprints.

I wiped the digital versions from my computer too.

Deciding not to use that controversial design, I went back to the drawing board.

There was another plan on my home computer, not quite done, but with a few days left before the deadline, I could hustle and get it submitted.

Switching designs should dodge any drama, right?

Thinking this, I finally felt a wave of calm wash over me.

In my previous life, I had my suspicions about my boyfriend, Steven.

After all, we were living together off-campus, so he was the most likely person to have stolen my design and handed it to Sarah.

I'd even snuck into his phone with his fingerprint while he was asleep and poked around his computer, but I found zilch—no clues, no proof, nothing.

Just a bunch of complaints he made to his buddies.

[Nina's way too headstrong. She's got zero femininity, not even close to Sarah.]

[If she had just a third of Sarah's looks or even half her sweetness, things would be so much better. Too bad she's not even in the same league.]

Back then, I thought it was all on me—that I wasn't good enough.

Now that I think about it, there's no point in staying with a boyfriend who's always rooting for someone else.

I made up my mind to break up with Steven right after this competition wrapped up.

Back at the little apartment Steven and I rented, I fired up my computer.

I entered my password and opened the backup design I'd saved earlier.

No one had ever seen this design; I was sure this time I wouldn't end up like before.

It still needed some final coloring, but I wasn't sweating it.

The later I finished it, the less chance there was for anyone to copy me.

I decided to keep an eye on when Sarah would submit her work.

My advisor called, saying he saw in the system that I hadn't submitted anything yet and asked if I'd forgotten.

I told him I felt my previous design wasn't perfect, so I wanted to start over.

He was stunned.

"Nina, I know you've got talent, but there are only three days left before the deadline. This isn't a game!"

Of course, it wasn't a game.

Only by scoring in this competition would I have a shot at landing my dream job at the firm I'd been eyeing.

Getting into Prime Design Studio has been a dream of mine since I was a kid.

I wouldn't gamble with my future or my dreams.

I wasn't about to let anyone slap me with a cheater's label. I wanted my win fair and square.

Though shocked, my advisor eventually agreed to let me do it my way.

In my previous life, when I was falsely accused of plagiarism, he was the only one who stood up for me.

He defended my character and was the only person at school who had my back.

But in the end, he got dragged down too and lost his job.

This time, I wasn't just going to change my fate—I wasn't going to let him suffer because of me.

Steven got back home and asked, "Didn't you already submit your design for the competition? What are you still doing on the computer?"

I turned around and shot back, "How do you know whether I submitted it or not?"

He paused, then shrugged. "Didn't you finish it a couple of days ago? I just figured you'd turned it in."

He seemed so normal—nothing out of place, no weird vibes.

While having dinner, he was scrolling through Sarah's social media, and I leaned in to take a peek.

A grid of nine photos popped up, all capturing Sarah's picture-perfect daily life.

Among them were a few blurred-out snapshots of her latest design work for the competition.

[Busy week! My eyes are killing me from all the sketching, but Steven sent over some eye medicine—so grateful!]

Steven had just liked the post when he turned and caught my stare.

He jumped out of his chair, clearly flustered, and snapped, "What's your problem? It's just a like. What's the big deal?"

He looked angry and embarrassed, but I just kept watching him silently.

Steven waved his hand dismissively, annoyed. "It's just a pack of medicine. If you want one, I'll buy you a pack tomorrow."

I let out a cold laugh. "Who needs your medicine? My eyes are just fine."

Dinner ended in silence, both of us stewing in our own thoughts.

The next morning, when I got up to work on my backup plan, I saw Sarah's latest post.

[So upset... Someone's plagiarized my design, and now I have to start all over again.]

[The person's a well-known senior, always topping the class. I can't fight back, so I guess I'll just swallow this injustice.]

She didn't name names, but anyone with half a brain could tell she was talking about me.

I was completely blindsided.

I just couldn't make sense of it. Even with a new design, why was the shadow of plagiarism still looming over me?

My mind was a total mess, and I was shaking so badly that I had to slam my laptop shut.

I spent the whole morning zoning out, phone in hand, stalking Sarah's updates obsessively.

By noon, she'd posted again.

[Big thanks for all the encouragement! Looks like Sarah's back in the sunshine!]

[Got the draft done, just need to throw some color on it. Lucky I had a backup plan ready to roll.]

Her feed was blowing up with support from her friends.

[Way to go, Sarah! Don't let that so-called senior scare you. She's nothing but a plagiarism queen.]

Some were rallying behind her, fired up.

[Why take the fall when you're the victim here? Let's confront that jerk face-to-face!]

[She thinks being a senior gives her a free pass? Such a low move deserves some karma!]

I felt a cold sweat break out, my skin crawling.

The same backup plan, just missing some color.

Could it really be that we were thinking alike?

I flashed back to all the crap from my last life.

After the contest, when I tried to clear my name and denied the plagiarism charges...

Sarah was live-streaming, spinning tales about how I kept harassing and threatening her after the contest.

"I always thought of Nina as a buddy, but there she was, creeping around my building, stalking me, scaring me into giving back my prize."

"Folks, I'm scared to death. Did I mess up? Maybe I never should've competed."

She played the victim perfectly, tearing up on camera, pulling at the heartstrings of all her guy fans.

She even waved around a depression diagnosis, claiming I had done serious mental damage, enough to land her in the hospital.

Meanwhile, Steven was right there, vouching for her, branding me a crazy chick pissed off because my plot had failed.

The mob of so-called justice warriors unleashed hell, attacking me everywhere online.

They didn't just troll me with comments—they dug up my address, sent me creepy toys, and even funeral wreaths.

My parents just tried to defend me a couple of times, and they got dragged into the threats too.

[Your whole family's a bunch of shameless dogs! A plagiarist and her loudmouth clan!]

[Like mother, like daughter. With a kid like that, the parents can't be far behind!]

[Your whole family should just disappear—wasting air and food!]

As things got wildly out of hand, my parents decided to lay low in the countryside.

But their escape turned into a nightmare—a deliberate and severe crash caused by those fanatic stalkers on the highway.

I lost my parents, and my sister ended up completely paralyzed, living as a vegetable.

The more I thought about it, the more rage boiled inside me.

This time, I had to uncover the truth, to protect my family at all costs.

Just as I was deep in thought, my phone rang.

It was Ethan Rogers, one of Sarah's fanboys and a classmate of mine.

He started in on me right away, with no pleasantries.

"Nina, seriously? Wasn't once enough? You had to copy Sarah again?"

My heart sank. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not here to waste words. Just check Sarah's latest post."

"Let me tell you, if you try to pull this stunt again, we—the Protectors of Sarah—will make sure you regret it."

I wasted no time and immediately pulled up her page.

The shock was palpable—her design was shockingly similar to mine. Once again.