The Day I Died

I think I died.

No. Scratch that. I know I died.

I remember the impact. The screeching tires. The blur of headlights too close. Jian’s voice, sharp and panicked, shouting my name like he finally cared. My ribs cracked. My vision blurred. And then..Nothing.

Well, except for one last thought before it all faded: At least now I won’t have to see him fall in love with someone else.

Dramatic? Maybe. But if you’d spent two years loving someone who barely noticed you existed, you’d get it.

So imagine my surprise when I woke up.

Alive.

Breathing.

In my bed.

In my room.

The same cracked ceiling. The same annoying bird chirping outside. The same cheap desk lamp I burnt my hand on last winter while pretending to study math.

For a solid minute, I lay there blinking at the ceiling like it owed me an explanation.

Was this the afterlife? Surely heaven wouldn’t have fluorescent lighting this ugly.

I sat up slowly. My body didn’t ache. No bandages. No broken bones. My pajamas had a suspicious ketchup stain, but other than that nothing suggested I’d just been roadkill twenty-four hours ago.

I reached for my phone.

September 4, 2021.

I stared. Blinked. Stared again.

That wasn’t possible.

I had died in 2023. Two whole years ahead.

Rebirth.

One of those things you read in angsty online stories where the lead character gets a second chance to do life right. Only in those stories, they’re usually geniuses or powerful CEOs or sword-wielding demon kings.

Me?

I was a math-hating, emotionally constipated seventeen-year-old with unresolved feelings for my best friend and a history of tripping over flat surfaces.

So this should be fun.

I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the mirror. My hair was a mess. Not the cute, tousled anime-boy kind: Just tragic.

My eyes were the same: tired, unsure, holding secrets they hadn’t learned yet.

I poked my cheek just to be sure I was real. “Ow.” Yep. Real.

“Okay, universe,” I said to my reflection. “Message received. I’m back. But let’s get something straight: I am not falling for him again. Not this time.”

I brushed my teeth like a man on a mission. A sad, slightly shaky mission. I even put effort into my hair. Kind of. It mostly just gave up halfway through.

From downstairs, Mom yelled, “Yuhan! You’re going to be late for school!”

Oh. Right.

School.

High school.

The land of hormonal chaos, bad cafeteria food, and unspoken crushes that ruin lives.

In 2021, I was just starting second year. This meant: new dorm assignments. New classmates. New teachers. Same old heartbreak.

Also, today was the day Jian moved into the dorm with me.

Jian.

My best friend.

My emotional kryptonite.

The boy with the pretty eyes and effortless charm. The one I confessed to two years later, seconds before I died.

God, I needed therapy. But since this was fiction logic, I guess I’d have to settle for inner monologues and passive-aggressive silence.

By 7:30 a.m., I was dressed, caffeinated, and emotionally armored.

By 7:35 a.m., I was in the hallway, fully committed to avoiding Jian like he was a Google Meet invite.

And then it happened.

That laugh.

That stupid, golden, heart-warming laugh that could defrost glaciers and melt IQs.

I froze.

Turning the corner like a slow-motion movie entrance was Jian himself. Same messy black hair. Same white hoodie I once accidentally wore for a whole day after he lent it to me. (Don’t ask.)

He hadn’t changed.

And neither had my traitorous heart.

He saw me and smiled. That smile. The one that made my brain do cartwheels.

“Still Spacing out in the hallway, are we ?” he said.

My soul left my body.

My mouth opened. Words betrayed me. “Uhm… hallway. Yep. Still here.”

Smooth.

He chuckled. “You good?”

No. Not even close.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Dorm key’s with the hall monitor,” he said. “Wanna go together?”

I blinked.

Was this happening again?

History. Repeating.

Except this time, I knew how the story ended.

He would fall for someone else. I would pretend to be okay. Then die like a dramatic side character.

Unless…

I changed the story.

“No, I’m good,” I said. “Go ahead. I, uh, forgot something in my room. Like… socks.”

He gave me a weird look. “You’re wearing socks.”

I looked down. Damn it.

“Second pair. Double protection. Very fashionable now.”

He laughed. Loudly.

And just like that, I remembered why I fell in love with him.

Damn it.

Later, while unpacking in our dorm, I found the old notebook. The one I used to write letters I never sent. Some were to Jian. Some were just to myself.

I flipped to a page that read:

You’ll never see me the way I see you. But that’s okay. I just wanted to be near you.

I closed it quickly.

Nope. Not going down that road again.

This time, I had rules.

Rule 1: Do not fall in love with Jian.

Rule 2: Seriously. Don’t.

Rule 3: If you feel things, repress them. Like a proper emotionally damaged teen.

He walked in just as I was dramatically staring out the window like a sad anime protagonist.

“Hey,” he said, tossing a snack bar onto my desk. “You always forget to eat.”

I stared at it.

And then at him.

And then I muttered under my breath:

“You just had to be kind again, didn’t you?”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

He grinned. “You’re weird today.”

I was weird every day. But today, I was also living with the knowledge that I’d died once loving this boy.

And now I had to survive loving him again.

That night, while Jian snored peacefully two feet away from me, I stared at the ceiling.

Same crack. Same darkness.

Different me.

Same heart.

This time, I wasn’t going to break first.

But God help me if he smiled at me like that again.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***