Chapter 2
Before I knew it, I had made my way to the school gate and immediately dialed home.
Hearing the reassuring tone in my dad's voice finally made me feel relieved.
In my last life, every disaster that followed came from accepting that cursed comb. This time, I wasn't going to make the same mistake. I had to stay on my guard.
Just as I was lost in thought, I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
It was Paris, looking jittery as she greeted me. My gut clenched with irritation.
"What do you want?" I asked impatiently.
She shifted her eyes nervously, her expression full of scheming calculation.
"Belinda, I can tell you're still mad at me."
Before I could respond, she wrapped her arm around mine, her voice turning syrupy as she leaned in.
"We're best friends, aren't we? Don't stay mad at me. I swear I didn't mean it."
If it had been before, I would've been touched, maybe even taken her out for a fancy meal to smooth things over.
But now, after knowing who she really was, the thought of her made my stomach turn.
I yanked my arm out of her grasp and fixed her with a pointed stare.
"Are we really such good friends?"
A flicker of guilt flashed across her face, and for the first time, she hesitated, her words stumbling.
"Of course, we are... very close," she said awkwardly.
"If you're still upset, I'll just head back to the dorm for now. I'll leave once you've calmed down."
With that, she spun on her heel and quickly walked away, heading in the opposite direction.
The moment her figure disappeared from view, I felt a wave of relief wash over me—until I noticed something off.
My pocket felt heavier!
I reached in, and my fingers closed around something. When I pulled it out, my blood ran cold. It was a small wooden comb.
Anger and frustration surged through me in an instant, overwhelming every rational thought.
It was the exact same carved comb as the one from my past life. Without hesitation, I snapped a picture of it with my phone, then threw it to the ground, my heart pounding with fury.
She really wouldn't stop until she had destroyed me, would she?
As I crossed the street, I heard a small crunch as a passing car ran over the comb, breaking it clean in half.
She thought she was clever this time, swapping out the larger comb for a smaller one to make it harder for me to notice. But I wasn't the same naive person I used to be.
Back then, I didn't pay attention to little things like this.
I changed clothes daily, and whatever I took off went straight into the laundry basket. Later, Paris would clean and dry them for me.
It might've seemed like I was taking advantage of her, but every time she washed my clothes, I paid her a hundred dollars.
Her family was poor, and she was too proud to accept help directly, so I found subtle ways to offer it.
But all that generosity only created a viper that would strike at me the first chance she got.
After catching a cab to my usual coffee shop, I sat down to study the pattern on the comb more closely.
The design was... interesting.
Several lines entwined, forming what appeared to be a flower.
I wasn't an expert on flowers, so I pulled out my phone and started searching for similar patterns online.
It took some time, but I finally found it.
"Ah, there it is."
The flower was an unopened chrysanthemum bud. The longer I looked at it, the more unsettling it became.
Just as I was deep in my research, my phone rang, its loud, urgent tone pulling me back to reality.
Glancing at the screen, I saw Amelia's name flash across it.
Amelia and I had never gotten along. She always assumed I was bullying Paris because I came from money, and Paris didn't.
She didn't know—or didn't care—that I gave Paris nearly four thousand dollars a month for her "help."
I never bothered to explain, and Paris certainly never spoke up to defend me.
Not that it mattered.
Soon enough, I'd be distancing myself from them both.
Though curious, I swiped to answer the call.
"What's up?"
On the other end of the line, Amelia's voice came in sharp and panicked, her breath quick and ragged.
"Where are you? Paris got hit by a car!"