"Don't cry, Melissa," my mother soothed gently. "Once your sister gets back, I'll make her give up the spot for you."

Sam pressed his lips together in silence, while my father slammed his cup down on the table.

"Claire," he said sternly, "come here and explain yourself."

With a bandage wrapped around my forehead and my face pale from the hospital, I stepped into the living room.

Four pairs of eyes turned to me in unison. All cold. All accusing.

Not a single one asked how I was feeling. No one cared that I had just been discharged.

Melissa, eyes red and brimming with tears, raised her acceptance letter.

"Claire, you already have everything. Why do you have to steal my chance to study abroad too?"

I had everything?

My fingernails dug deep into my palm.

What exactly did I have?

Our parents' love? That belonged to her.

Sam's heart? Also hers.

Even the sunniest bedroom in the house was hers.

And now, the opportunity I had fought tooth and nail for… Was she going to take that too?

Just because I was born two years earlier, I was destined to always be the one who gives in?

I was the one who had everything taken from me, yet here I stood like some sort of thief, being judged by my own family.

"Claire," Sam said, rising to his feet. His gaze was cold. "Give the spot to Melissa."

I looked at him. "She didn't even pass the entrance exam. I got a perfect score. Why should I give it to her?"

My father slammed the table and stood up. "Because you don't need it!"

My mother, cradling a sobbing Melissa, chimed in, "Claire, don't take your anger out on your sister's future."

When I remained silent, Melissa suddenly began to cough violently.

Sam swiftly retrieved her asthma inhaler, dropping to one knee to press it to her lips. "Don't be scared, Melissa. I'm here."

"Claire," my mother said, eyes red and pleading, "you know Melissa's health isn't good. You're the older sister. And you're so capable. What's wrong with letting her have this one thing?"

I looked at the people in front of me—my closest family—all pressing in, forcing me to surrender.

Because I was stronger. Because my sister was weak.

So I gave up the toys.

I gave up the bedroom.

I gave up our parents' love.

In my previous life, the one thing I refused to give up was Sam. But even then, his heart was always hers.

They all sat together now, like a picture-perfect family portrait. And I stood alone in the shadows, forever the outsider.

"I earned that acceptance letter with my own abilities," I said calmly. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I'll let the department head know I'll forfeit the chance to study abroad."

Studying abroad and advancing my career had once been my dream. But I had already chosen to join the United Nations Peacekeeping Forces. There was no need to cling to anything else.

Originally, I had only returned home to say I was giving up the spot, and to say a proper goodbye. I hadn't expected to be robbed of even that.

So be it.

For a brief moment, Sam's expression faltered. He frowned and looked at me.

But Melissa's sudden sobbing quickly pulled his attention away.

"Sam, my chest hurts…"

"I'll take you to the hospital," he said without hesitation.

He scooped her up in his arms and walked out, not sparing me so much as a glance.

My parents followed after them, concern etched on their faces.

All the love and care I had once dreamed of, I didn't receive it in my past life. And in this one, it still wasn't mine.

I forced back the tears welling in my eyes and smiled faintly. "It's alright, Claire. You'll be just fine on your own."

My phone suddenly buzzed in my hand. I picked up.

"Claire, we're calling to confirm the final floral arrangements for your wedding venue. Shall we go with the champagne roses you liked best?"

My grip on the phone tightened, knuckles turning white.

In my previous life, I had married Sam. And I had arranged every detail of the wedding myself.

I had so carefully chosen all the wedding decorations. All the hopeful dreams I once had for that day—now every humiliating memory came crashing back like a tidal wave.

I walked down the aisle in my wedding dress, heart full of hope, ready to marry Sam. But the man standing at the altar wasn't in a tuxedo.

When the officiant asked us to exchange vows, he took the microphone. His voice was ice-cold. "Claire, I'd rather take vows of celibacy than ever love you."

My thoughts froze. Then I made a call. "I'll transfer you to Melissa," I said. "She's the real bride."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "But the invitation says this is your wedding."

"Mine has been canceled," I replied briefly.

I ended the call, messaged my professor, and quietly began to pack. An entire day and night passed. My parents still hadn't returned, but by then, I had nearly finished preparing to leave.

Just after I washed up, the apartment door swung open. Sam stepped inside.

I looked up, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Shouldn't he be at the hospital with Melissa?

He didn't respond. Instead, he walked in and set a small, delicate cake on the table. "Blueberry. Your favorite. Eat it."

I froze. It hit me—he was trying to cheer me up. Just like before, when we hadn't yet fallen apart. Whenever I was upset, he'd bring me blueberry cake to coax a smile.

That was how he was. Cold on the outside, but he remembered everything I liked.

When I was curled up in pain during my period and my parents ignored me, he would bring me warm milk.

I was allergic to mangoes; my parents always forgot, but he made sure no mango ever touched my plate.

When our parents spent the night in the hospital with my feverish sister, he sat with me in the living room so I wouldn't be afraid.

When I was hospitalized after jumping from a building, he was the one who stayed by my side.

And when the truck came barreling toward me, it was him—he was the one who died to save me.

Day after day. Year after year. Quiet, enduring kindness. How could I not become addicted to that?

I had mistaken his compassion for love. I convinced myself he cared, just didn't realize it yet. So in my past life, I clung to him desperately.

But now, I understood. He didn't love me. He was just a good person. Everything he did was to repay the debt of that one day, when we were twelve and I shielded him from shattered glass, ending up covered in cuts.

I pulled myself from the memory and smiled faintly. "No need. I don't like blueberry cake anymore."

Sam froze and looked at me in confusion. "When did that change?"

A long time ago. After Melissa's accident.

Suddenly, the pieces snapped together. In my past life, her downfall had started right around this time. I snatched up my phone and checked the date—May 1st.

Today was May 1st. This was the day Melissa drowned her sorrows in alcohol, was taken advantage of, and later jumped to her death. The day that turned everyone against me.

This time, I had given her the scholarship. I had called off the wedding. But I didn't know—would she still spiral into despair?

I didn't have time to explain. I ran out of the apartment like a madwoman.

Guided by memories from my past life, I called the police and raced straight to the alley behind the bar.

To my shock, Melissa was there, surrounded by several young men, being coaxed and pressured to drink. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was laughing like nothing mattered.

"Melissa!" I stormed forward and grabbed her wrist. "Come home with me."

She whipped around. "Claire? What are you doing here? Stay out of my business!"

The guys exchanged a few glances. One of them, with blond hair, stepped toward me with a smirk. "Hey, sexy. You're even prettier than your little sister. Why don't you come party with us too?"

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes on him made me nauseous. I fixed him with a cold glare. "I've already called the police. If you're smart, you'll leave now."

They didn't back off. Instead, they grinned, revealing rows of yellowed teeth.

Panic surged through me. I grabbed Melissa and bolted, dragging her with me.

But dragging a drunk person made running nearly impossible. Within moments, we were caught.

I swung a brick at them, but it only earned me a few harsh slaps. They pinned me to the ground.

Melissa seemed to sober up from the shock. Trembling in fear, she broke free and ran.

I couldn't move. One thug's knee crushed down on my spine until it cracked. Sharp shards of broken glass dug into my back, and the searing pain made me grit my teeth.

"I've called the police! They'll be here in three minutes at most. If you stop now, it's not too late!" I shouted.

My plea was met with more slaps. Amid the ringing in my ears, I heard one of them curse me for meddling and mutter about teaching me a lesson.

Then, at last, the wail of police sirens pierced the air.

"Run!" they scrambled in all directions.

I lay on the cold ground, gasping for breath.

But I smiled through the pain. At least this time, Melissa was safe. Maybe… I wouldn't be the one everyone blamed anymore.

I had just pushed myself up when a violent force slammed me against the wall.

My back collided with the brick wall, and my torn wounds exploded with fresh agony. My vision went black from the pain.

"Claire!" Sam's voice was filled with fury as he held a trembling Melissa in his arms. "I already promised to marry you! Why would you still humiliate yourself and drag Melissa down with you?!"

I stared at him, stunned. "What are you talking about?"

"Enough!" he snapped, cutting me off. "Aren't your little self-harm stunts enough? And now this? You actually hired people to attack her? I won't believe a single word you say ever again!"

Melissa whimpered in his arms. "Sam… I was so scared… Those men… They were awful… I don't know where Claire even found people like that…"

His expression softened instantly. He lowered his voice, soothing her gently, "Don't be afraid. I'll take you to the hospital."

And that's when I understood.

Melissa had put the blame on me. And Sam believed her. He carried her into the car, never once looking back.

I let out a bitter laugh as blood soaked through the back of my shirt. I didn't have the strength to explain. I didn't even have the strength to call for help.

Just before I lost consciousness, I caught a glimpse of frightened bystanders rushing over.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

A police officer stepped through the door and handed me a case report.

"Miss Dunn, thanks to your timely call, we were able to intervene. Based on the evidence we've gathered, this gang has been targeting young women in bars, coercing them into compromising situations and blackmailing them with explicit videos."

The officer paused, then added, "If not for you, your sister might not have made it out alive."

I nodded silently.

Of course I knew. I had lived through it once already.

In my past life, Melissa was ruined by this exact group. They lured her in, took turns assaulting her, filmed everything, and uploaded the footage online.

On the eve of my wedding to Sam, she jumped from the twentieth floor.

The blood-red scrawl in her suicide note was still burned into my memory:

"It's all Claire's fault! If she hadn't stolen my spot, I would've never gone to that bar! I wouldn't have ended up like this! She already has Sam, and she still wants to take everything from me! I hate her! She's the one who killed me!"

Because of that note, Sam came to hate me with all his heart. My parents stopped answering my calls. Everyone turned their backs on me.

But this time, things were going to be different.

In my past life, Sam had died saving me from that truck.

In this life, I saved the girl he's always protected.

We were even now.

I drifted back into sleep, at peace.

When I opened my eyes again, Sam was sitting by my bedside. His posture was awkward, and his brow furrowed deeply.