Chapter 5

"Impossible!"

The response on the other end was decisive.

"Leave Violet? Only over my dead body!"

"If future me is a bastard, then I'll change starting now! I won't start a business, okay? I'll just be a PE teacher and stay with her every day. I won't get involved in those messy circles!"

"That Sophia, right? I'll expose her true colors to Violet right now!"

"I refuse to believe that these 130 pounds of bones can't beat some bullshit destiny!"

Looking at the boy's bold declarations, I smiled bitterly.

If fate were that easy to change, it wouldn't be fate.

But in my heart, a faint hope unexpectedly arose.

What if... what if he really could do it?

Just then, another line suddenly appeared in the notebook, urgent and panicked.

"Wait! You said future me has an affair with Sophia? Is that woman really manipulative?"

"Violet just told me that Sophia heard I'm hospitalized and is bringing me hot soup."

"That idiot Violet even said Sophia's a good person!"

"No way. I need to handle this."

My heart clenched.

During that summer after senior year, something like this did happen.

Sophia came to the hospital to see him. While I went out to get water, she deliberately spilled hot soup on herself, pretending to be scalded, and implied I hadn't secured the thermos properly.

At the time, although Ethan said nothing, looking at Sophia's reddened thighs, his eyes flashed with sympathy.

That was the first time Sophia planted the seed in his heart that "Violet is clumsy and not gentle enough."

"Listen, Ethan Blackwell."

I took a deep breath and began writing.

"Sophia will arrive at your hospital room in ten minutes. She'll be wearing a white dress with a very low neckline."

"While Violet goes to wash fruit, she'll deliberately spill soup on her own leg, then frame Violet for it."

"Don't believe her!"

The writing on the other end flew across the page.

"Got it! Damn, trying to pull this shit on me?"

"Watch me take her down!"

...

I held the sketchbook, curled up on the hotel bed, sleepless all night.

The next morning, I woke to severe abdominal pain.

The stomach cancer symptoms were getting worse. I was even vomiting blood now.

I struggled to get up, wanting to pour some water, only to discover the sketchbook had an entire new page of writing.

The handwriting was cheerful, radiating a sense of sweet revenge.

"Nice!"

"You're amazing! Sophia really came, dressed so... scandalous."

"As soon as Violet went to the bathroom, she came over with the soup and was about to pour it on her own leg. I shouted, 'What are you doing! Trying to scam me?!'"

"Then I 'accidentally' knocked the whole bucket of scalding soup onto the floor by her feet. It splattered oil spots all over her, but didn't burn her. Just scared her into screaming."

"Violet ran out and I immediately played pitiful, saying Sophia tried to force-feed me soup, and when I refused, she was going to pour it on me."

"You should've seen Sophia's face. Red, then white, then green. Spectacular!"

"Violet kicked her out and apologized to me for not protecting me. Man, my girl is so cute."

Looking at these words, color finally returned to my pale face.

It really... changed?

Just then, my phone suddenly rang.

An unknown number.

I answered. A familiar yet strange voice came through, carrying a trace of youthful tone mixed with adult exhaustion.

"Hello, is this Violet?"

I froze.

It was Ethan Blackwell's voice.

But not the cold Ethan. Not the furious Ethan from last night either.

This voice carried confusion and caution.

"I'm... Ethan Blackwell."

"Last night I had a very long dream. I dreamed that when I was eighteen, I kicked your best friend out of my hospital room..."

"Violet, did we... miss something?"

My phone clattered to the floor.

Memory was being rewritten.