The chime of the school bell still held the power to send a shiver of residual dread down Ethan’s spine, even now. He wasn't dreading class, not anymore. He was dreading the inevitable, the ticking clock counting down to a confrontation he'd been actively avoiding. It was only a matter of time. Rosewood High wasn't that big.

He’d almost made it. One more step, and he would have been safely ensconced in the relative anonymity of the library, surrounded by the hushed whispers of academic ambition and the comforting smell of aging paper. He hadn't been this interested in books in his past life. Too focused on Elara, on chasing shadows, on impressing… well, impressing people like Liam.

"Ethan! Is that really you?"

The voice, smooth and laced with a practiced, effortless charm, stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a voice he hadn't heard in what felt like an eternity, yet it was instantly recognizable. A voice that once held the power to lift him to cloud nine or plunge him into the deepest despair. He turned slowly, steeling himself.