On the day of the college entrance exam, my daughter and my best friend’s son walked into the school together. Meanwhile, my best friend, Megan Bacon, handed me a freshly tailored green gown.

“Wearing matching gowns is a sign of good luck,” she said with a smile. “Let’s both wear one for a successful start.”

But that so-called “good luck” became my worst nightmare.

Just as we sent the kids off at the school gate, my gown suddenly tore apart in front of the crowd—ripping right down the middle. I was left exposed, humiliated, with no place to hide. My daughter quickly took off her jacket to cover me, but the damage was done. The laughter, the whispers, the judgment—it all hit her harder than it hit me.

When the results came out, she didn’t even pass the entrance exam—not even for a junior college.

Weeks later, numb and broken, she climbed to the rooftop and jumped.

I watched her fall. And I couldn’t do anything.

The next day, I died of a heart attack. But even in death, I had no answers.

Until now.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back—back on the morning of the college entrance exam.

——

“Jackie! Hurry and change! The kids will be late!” Megan’s familiar voice called out, just as before. She was holding two identical gowns in her hands, smiling as if nothing had happened.

I froze.

The same green gowns. The same moment.

Was this my second chance?

She handed me one of the dresses. “Green means smooth sailing. Our kids will breeze through the exams!”

But all I could think about was that day. How my dress tore for no reason. How hers didn’t. How my daughter fell into despair while her son—who always lagged behind in school—miraculously topped the exam and got into Harvard.

She barely visited me after my daughter died. I always thought grief had kept her away. But now I wasn’t so sure.

Could she have… done something?

My hands trembled as I took the gown from her. My heart pounded with suspicion.

No. I had to be sure.

“Megan, could you grab my underwear from the bathroom? The ones I washed last night should be dry.”

“Such a troublemaker,” she said playfully, walking out of the room.

The moment she was gone, I picked up the gown she left on the bed—her gown.

We were the same size, same build. The dresses were identical. But if something had been done to one of them…

I swapped the gowns.

When she returned, she tossed the underwear at me, annoyed. “Here. Got it.”

“Thanks!” I smiled, slipping into the dress I knew was meant for her.

She didn’t start dressing until she saw me fully changed. That alone made my stomach twist.

If this dress tears today… I’ll know.

And if it doesn’t—then I’ll know something even worse.

This time, I won’t let the truth stay buried.

"I'll go check on the kids. You get ready quickly," Megan said as she stepped out.

I nodded and pretended to fix my makeup. The moment she left, I quickly pulled out a long sun-protective jacket and tucked it into my bag. I needed to be fully prepared this time. I couldn't let history repeat itself and risk my daughter’s future again.

The first day of the college entrance exam was sweltering. Oddly, Megan—who always hated the sun—was unusually chipper.

"What a beautiful day," she said brightly. "The kids will definitely do well."

I stood anxiously by the school gate with my daughter Lora, but my focus wasn't on the exam or the heat. It was on the gown I wore. Though I had secretly swapped it with Megan’s, I still couldn’t be sure it wasn’t tampered with. My hand stayed near the sun-protective jacket in my bag, just in case.

Then it happened—just like before.

A sharp scream came from the crowd.

"Look! That woman’s dress ripped!"

My heart nearly stopped. I immediately glanced down at my own clothes, ready to pull out the jacket, but then Lora grabbed my arm.

"Mom, look! Aunt Megan’s clothes are torn!"

I looked up and saw her—Megan—panic-stricken, clutching at the shredded gown. The tight fabric had split open, revealing her undergarments. She looked utterly lost, hands crossed over her chest as she tried to hide herself.

"It's so embarrassing. Why wear such cheap clothes to an exam?"

"Yeah, what a mess."

"Tsk, though she’s got a nice figure, right?"

"Way better than my wife’s. Look at that skin."

The crowd’s voices were a mix of ridicule and vulgar curiosity. Phones were out, recording. Faces sneered. I had been in that exact spot once—and now, I watched from the other side.

Then I saw it.

Megan’s eyes locked on mine. They burned with hatred.

So it was her. I had suspected it before, but now I knew. She was the one who sabotaged me in my past life. The one who destroyed my daughter’s future—and mine.

"Mom, you’re so embarrassing!" Brad shouted, stomping over. "How can I take the exam now with everyone staring at us?"

He glared at her like she was filth. That boy had always been spoiled, never once taught empathy. He turned and stormed off, ignoring her desperate hands reaching for him.

"Brad, wait! Mom doesn’t know what happened—go take the exam, I’ll fix this!"

But he was gone. And she was alone in the chaos.

No one helped her. Some laughed, some whispered, some filmed. I stood there, unmoving, remembering exactly how this felt—how cold and humiliating it had been for me.

"Mama, I’ll give Aunt Megan my jacket," Lora said, already taking it off.

I stopped her.

"Lora, I brought extra clothes. I’ll give them to Aunt Megan. You go in and do your best, okay? Don’t let this little thing affect your big day."

She nodded, gave me one last look, and walked toward the school with quiet confidence.

I turned and slowly made my way to Megan, who was now crouched on the ground, sobbing. She kept her head low, muttering to herself, surrounded by mocking eyes.

I handed her the sun jacket without a word.

She looked up at me. Her face was streaked with tears and fury. The moment our eyes met, her expression twisted into a look of pure hatred.

She knew.

And now, so did I.

She was the one who hurt me. She was the one who ruined everything.

After watching enough of the commotion, I finally stepped forward. I pulled out the sun-protective clothing I had prepared and walked toward Megan.

"Megan, put this on—what happened?" I asked, feigning concern as I helped her cover up. As I draped the jacket over her shoulders, I didn’t forget to scoop up the torn pieces of her gown and quietly slip them into my bag.

She pushed me away harshly.

"Jackie, stop pretending. Why are you acting like the good guy now?"

I laughed inwardly. If I didn’t have questions that needed answers, I wouldn’t even bother with you.

“Oh, I just saw you were in trouble,” I said smoothly. “Maybe the merchant gave you a defective dress. We should go back and demand an explanation.”

But Megan grabbed my arm, her face tight with unease.

"I’ll handle it myself. Right now, I need to find Brad. He can’t miss the exam!"

Even then, she didn't forget to fish out the torn gown pieces from my bag, trying to keep me away from the evidence. That alone made me more suspicious—clearly, something wasn't right.

She rushed off to look for her son. I quietly put the rest of the fabric scraps back in my bag and followed behind her.

We searched for thirty minutes with no sign of Brad. By the time we returned, the examination room had already closed. He had missed the exam.

"Don’t worry too much, Megan," I said softly. "Brad’s grades are excellent. Missing one subject won’t stop him from getting into college."

My tone was gentle, but my eyes held a trace of cold amusement. Now she could finally taste what I had been forced to swallow in my past life.

"How can it be the same?" she snapped. "My son is aiming for Harvard and New York University! He’s supposed to be the top scorer in the entire college entrance exam—how can he miss a subject?"

Her words hit me like a slap.

Top scorer.

That phrase again. She had planned it, both in this life and in the last. All along, she wanted that title—for her son.

I was about to respond, maybe offer some hollow comfort, when a familiar voice interrupted us.

"Did you find Brad?" the man asked anxiously.

I turned, and the moment I saw who it was, my heart sank.

Jordan Herring.

My husband.

The man who vanished when my daughter failed the exam in our past lives. The man who didn’t offer a single word of comfort, claiming he was on a business trip. The man who blamed me.

But now, here he was—rushing to comfort Megan.

She stood up immediately, tears pouring down her face. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand and cried, as if she had forgotten I was standing right there.

"No... I don’t know where he is. He missed the exam! It’s all ruined!"

"It’s okay. I’ll help look. There’s still time," he said, his voice soft.

I stepped in front of him.

"What are you doing here?"

He finally noticed me, startled. His face flushed red with guilt.

"I... I was just passing by. I heard Brad missed the exam and came to check on him."

I let out a slow, bitter laugh and pulled Megan’s hand off of him.

"Passing by? Didn’t you say earlier you had a business trip and couldn’t accompany your daughter today?"

He hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed. He had no answer.

Something wasn’t right. I felt it deep in my bones. I had overlooked it before, but now... I couldn’t ignore it.

Megan stepped forward and sneered, “What’s the problem, Jackie? Aren’t we family? What’s wrong with your husband caring about my son?”

Jordan wiped the sweat from his forehead and stammered, "I was just worried. She’s your best friend, isn’t she? If it bothers you, I’ll leave."

But Megan began crying harder, as if she were the injured one here.

In that moment, I realized just how blind I had been.

I had given up my career to support my daughter. I handed over the company we built together to this man so he could focus on growing it. I believed he loved me, believed we were a team.

I thought I was lucky.

Now I see—I was just a fool.