Claire stepped out of class into the courtyard, sunlight spilling over the tiled paths. She squinted up at the sky for a moment, letting the warmth hit her skin — a brief, quiet relief from the noise of everything else. Vienna had gone ahead to grab lunch, and Claire had told her she'd catch up.
She hadn't seen Sam all day.
Again.
Her chest tightened a little, but she didn't let the thought linger.
As she made her way across the courtyard, a voice stopped her.
"Claire."
She turned — and froze.
Randy.
He stood by the shaded corridor near the school gate, dressed like always: crisp white shirt, dark jeans, watch that probably cost more than a semester's tuition. But his presence wasn't just about looks — it was the quiet confidence, the way people moved aside without him asking. The way the air seemed to shift when he entered a room.
Claire blinked, a little stunned. "Randy? What are you doing here?"
He gave her a small, casual smile. "Passing by. I was nearby for a meeting, thought I'd check on you."
"At my school?"
"Well, you've been hard to reach lately," he said, walking closer. "Besides, I heard the concert went well."
She hesitated. "It did. It was nice."
"With Miko and Vienna, right?" Randy's voice was light, but his eyes were sharp. Watching her reaction.
Claire nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just music and friends. That's all."
Randy chuckled. "I believe you. Just... I figured maybe it's time we talked. Face-to-face."
Claire crossed her arms. "About what?"
He smiled again — that slow, practiced kind of smile that used to charm her so easily.
But now… it felt like a mask.
"I don't want things to be weird between us, Claire," he said. "I know I messed up before. I know I wasn't honest about a lot of things."
She raised an eyebrow, silent.
Randy continued. "But I've been thinking. And watching. And... I want a second chance. A real one. No more games."
Claire's stomach twisted. "A second chance for what, exactly?"
"To be in your life again," he said. "But not just from the sidelines this time."
The words landed heavily.
Claire didn't respond right away.
Randy took a breath. "Look, I know this is sudden. And maybe I'm not your favorite person. But I'm not here to rush you. I just want you to know — I'm serious. I've changed."
She searched his face, looking for something real. And for the first time… she wasn't sure if she found it.
"I need time," she said finally. "I'm still figuring things out."
"That's fair," Randy said smoothly. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
He glanced at his watch and took a step back. "I'll leave you to your lunch. But Claire… just think about it."
She nodded once, but didn't smile.
As Randy walked away, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out instinctively — hoping, just for a second, that maybe it was Sam.
But it wasn't.
It was Vienna, asking where she was.
Claire sighed and slipped her phone away. The sun was still shining, but somehow, it felt colder now.
That evening.
The living room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. Claire sat curled up on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest. Her mom entered from the kitchen, carrying a cup of warm tea.
"You're quiet," her mom said, setting the tea on the table.
Claire hesitated. "Randy came to school today."
Her mom looked up, her expression unreadable. "Did he?"
"He said he wants to try again," Claire said softly. "He was... calm. Different. Not pushy. Just—present."
Her mom sank into the armchair across from her. "And what do you feel?"
Claire exhaled. "Confused."
There was a pause. Then her mom said carefully, "You know, Claire… you might not remember everything, but back then — after what happened with Calista — Randy's family helped us a lot."
Claire looked over, confused. "Helped how?"
Her mom gave a slow nod. "When that bullying incident came to light — when people started digging into Calista's side of things, and when she fell from those stairs… it could've gone much worse. There were parents who wanted legal action. The school was panicking."
Claire's heart sank a little. "I remember some of it. Bits and pieces."
"Well," her mom continued, "Randy's father stepped in quietly. He paid for a mediator, made some of the complaints disappear, and softened the school's response. He did it without asking for anything back. If he hadn't... I'm not sure what your aunt would've done. Or Calista."
Claire sat with that truth for a long moment.
"So what are you saying?" she asked finally. "That I owe him something?"
Her mom shook her head. "No, sweetheart. I'm saying that sometimes, people show who they are when things get hard. Randy may not be perfect — and only you know what's right for your heart — but I can't forget what his family did when we needed them the most."
Claire looked down at her hands. The weight of that history pressed quietly against her chest. It didn't mean she had to feel something for Randy. But it also didn't make it easy to dismiss him, either.
"Thanks for telling me," she said quietly.
Her mom gave a small, tired smile. "Whatever you choose, Claire — just be sure it's your choice."
Calista wasn't interested in love — not now. Not when the past still clung to her like a shadow. She hadn't simply been reborn. She had gone back, thrown five years into the past with memories of the night she died still burned into her mind. Betrayed by the very friends she once trusted.
Romance could wait. What mattered now was the truth — why they turned on her, and what really happened the night she was killed. The house had gone still. Outside Claire's window, the night breeze stirred the curtains with soft, steady sighs. She lay curled on her side, the faint glow of the streetlamp spilling across her room in golden slivers. Her phone rested face-down beside her pillow. No messages. No sound. Just silence.
But her mind wouldn't rest.
Randy.
He'd shown up at school like he belonged there. Calm. Certain. The kind of confidence that made everyone look twice. And when he'd smiled at her, it hadn't felt like the old Randy — the one who used to linger quietly at the edges. No, this version was bolder. Like he was ready for something more.
And her mother… her mother hadn't exactly pushed, but Claire heard it in her voice. The gentle way she said, "You know, Randy's always been good to us. His family did a lot during Calista's case." That quiet reminder of debts owed. Of gratitude lingering like chains.
But none of them were there when Claire watched Calista fall. None of them heard the whispers that followed. Or saw the cracks in everything afterward.
Claire shifted, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders.
Randy was kind. Reliable. Safe.
But why did it still feel like the choice wasn't really hers?
She stared at the ceiling, her heart heavy beneath the stillness.
What did she want?
She wasn't sure. All she knew was, love shouldn't feel like an obligation. And family history shouldn't dictate the future.
Still, she closed her eyes and whispered to the quiet room, almost like a confession only the dark could hear:
"I don't want to disappoint anyone… but I'm not ready to be someone else's hope."