Back to High School, I Refuse to Fund Her

"Josh, your classmate is here," my mother called out.

I jerked my head up from the desk, my hands flying instinctively to my mouth and then my stomach.

There was no blood or pain.

My mother knocked on my bedroom door, urging me to go out. I glanced down at the familiar fabric of my high school uniform.

The vivid memories of my final moments lingered in my mind. I sat there in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity, my thoughts racing to make sense of it all.

Finally, the truth settled in: I had been reborn.

In the living room, Sharon and Harry sat awkwardly on the sofa. As I had feared, today was the day Sharon planned to bring him to my home for tutoring—the very event that had ignited all the misery of my previous life.

When I walked out, Sharon stood up eagerly. "Josh, hi. This is my friend, Harry. His foundation isn't very strong. Could he join us to study?"

Harry watched me from his seat, his brow furrowed slightly, as if the request made him uncomfortable. Sharon noticed, giving his hand a quick, reassuring pat.

My eyes captured their subtle interactions. I shook my head gently but firmly. "I'm sorry, but that's not possible."

In my previous life, I had refused her in the same way, and it had planted the seed of her lifelong resentment.

Harry, looking refined and gentle, transferred to our school during our senior year of high school. When he introduced himself to the class that first day, Sharon was immediately attracted to him.

His family wasn't well-off, and his father was bedridden from a severe disability. Perhaps it was their shared struggles that bonded them so quickly.

Whenever Harry fell behind in his studies, he would approach her desk with worksheets covered in red marks, asking timidly, "Sharon, could you help me solve this problem?"

Sharon would always take the papers and explain each mistake with patient detail, without a trace of the impatience she often showed when helping me.

One day, after scoring dead last on a physics exam, Harry sat alone at his desk, lost in quiet despair. Sharon sent his deskmate away and sat next to him, patiently consoling him.

Later that evening, a bundle of basic knowledge notes was delivered to Harry's desk. Our classmates whispered that they were a perfect match, while my involvement with her seemed increasingly out of place.

But my refusal had nothing to do with jealousy. Three days earlier, I had accidentally overheard Harry talking to a friend in the school bathroom.

"Harry, Sharon seems really into you. Are you two official now?"

"Nah. Take a look at her situation—she's broke. Do you think I'd give up a good life for that? She's just a tool for boosting my grades."

"Good for you! Josh has to pay top dollar for her tutoring."

"That idiot? He couldn't learn his way out of a paper bag. Wait and see. I'll take her right from under him soon enough."

I trembled with anger in the stall, my hands clenched tight, but I stayed silent for two reasons: Sharon was too devoted to him; with the exams looming, I didn't want to upset her by telling her the truth.

Instead, I tried to steer her away from him with subtle suggestions. That was why I turned down her request to include Harry so decisively.

Harry felt humiliated and ran out of my house, but he didn't see the traffic light and was hit by a car, leaving him disabled.

Sharon blamed me and secretly plotted against me. Everything I had done became self-serving, a sacrifice of my youth and life.

In this new chance, I told myself to give up helping others and respect their fate instead.