The Rewritten Love: A Second Beginning

Chapter 15

Each class stretched out to 45 minutes. When the bell finally signaled the end of the lesson, Madelyn, almost with a sense of doomed acceptance, walked to the back of the room. She quietly righted Forrest’s knocked-over desk and gathered the scattered books from the floor, tidying them neatly into his drawer. Her actions elicited a flurry of astonished whispers from her classmates.

“No way! Madelyn, who’s always acting high and mighty, is actually picking up books for Forrest? Did she hit her head or something?”

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing. Madelyn, who couldn’t be bothered to speak, is now serving her arch-nemesis Forrest? Holy cow, I must be hallucinating!”

Someone had discreetly snapped a photo of Madelyn’s surprising act of humility and anonymously uploaded it to the school forum.

Madelyn ignored the buzz around her, focusing on straightening up Forrest’s desk. Despite everything, she was just too good-natured to hold Forrest’s temper against him.

Meanwhile, in the grimy alley behind the school, Timothy was debating about which bar to hit that night. Adrian was engrossed in his phone when a headline suddenly popped up.

[Shocker of the Century! Madelyn actually…]

he could finish reading, Adrian saw Madelyn’s name and clicked on the link. A photo loaded, revealing Madelyn crouched down, books cradled in her arms. “Holy smokes! Look, Forry, look at the

his hearing for a

Light streamed in from the window, illuminating her, her eyelashes cast in shadow like the feathers of a raven, one hand clutching books, the other picking up a textbook from the floor. The photo exuded an unexpectedly serene

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’

palate and her aversion to cafeteria food. Now alone in the

math problem. The noise of chatter and footfalls grew louder as it approached

isn’t coming back to settle the score

front-row seat. I’ve had it with that lowlife

plot of land. People like them who can’t compete fairly always resort to dirty tricks. Those Jents are bound to meet a

in Ventropolis, getting on their bad

were only ever whispered behind Madelyn’s back. Many in their class had parents whose businesses had suffered at the hands

problem when a shadow loomed over her. In the next instant, a hand swept across the desk, scattering her books to the floor. She looked

asked calmly, “Can I

permission to touch my stuff? Looking for trouble?” His sneer was cruel, his gaze threatening

his books, he has come to settle the

and he had gotten upset. She thought cleaning up for him might serve as a sort of quiet

class and even the neighboring one had

books, too. We’re even. Besides, it’s my turn for cleaning duty today. If you’re unhappy with it, I won’t touch your stuff next

his hands into his pockets and kicked at Madelyn’s desk. “What’s your game, Madelyn?