chapter -3 This time I'll protect you

Chapter -3 This time i'll protect you

The muffled hum of voices drifted through the crack in her bedroom door.

Anya's fingers stilled on the brush she'd been running through her hair. The bristles caught mid-stroke. In the mirror, her reflection stared back at her—composed. But it was the wrong kind of calm. The kind that came just before a storm broke loose.

That voice…

Her breath caught.

Aunt Rhea.

Alive.

Anya rose slowly, every step deliberate, as if moving too fast might shatter the illusion. Her feet brushed softly across the cool marble floor. When she stepped into the living room, the sunlight spilled in golden sheets through the tall bay windows, warming the worn fabric of the couch and dusting the air with motes that danced like fireflies.

And there they were.

Her uncle sat on the couch, squinting over the edge of his newspaper, his glasses threatening to fall off. Her aunt hummed as she folded laundry, chuckling at a morning comedy show on TV.

Alive. Whole. Laughing.

Her knees nearly gave out.

The air in her lungs grew thick and heavy. Anya blinked, but the tears blurred her vision anyway—hot, relentless, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. She staggered forward and collapsed into her aunt's arms, burying her face into the soft cotton of her shawl.

"A-Anya?" her aunt whispered, arms coming around her instinctively.

"I—I had a bad dream," Anya choked, pressing her face tighter into the fabric. "But it's over now. I'm okay. I'm okay."

Her uncle looked up sharply. "Did something happen at college?"

She forced herself to pull back, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. "I fainted. Stress, I guess. Probably just overworked."

Her aunt cupped her cheek with gentle fingers. "That student council role is squeezing the life out of you."

Anya offered a faint, reassuring smile. "I'll handle it. I just… needed to see you both."

They believed her. Of course they did. They were kind. They loved her.

That's what made their deaths hurt even more in her first life.

But this time, she'd protect them—even if it meant burning everything else down.

---

The next morning, her phone buzzed—Vice Dean Sharma.

Her stomach turned, but she answered with practiced calm.

When she arrived, the admin office was already crowded. The dance team stood clustered together, all still glowing from their recent win at the national qualifiers. Laughter buzzed quietly between them like static. But Anya felt no warmth. Not anymore.

And there, in the center of it all, stood Ryan carter.

He didn't belong here—at least not regularly. He was the kind of guy who showed up maybe twice a month, just enough to keep the academic staff pacified. Everyone knew he was juggling between his tech company—already funded, already trending and carter coperation ,top company of the world—while balancing elite-level dance on the side. His name carried weight. Influence. Aura. He wasn't just the dance team's lead—he was its heartbeat.

But today, his casual presence somehow felt more intense.

He was dressed in black again, as always. Dark jeans, fitted tee, and a half-zipped bomber jacket that seemed to soak up the light around him. His hair was slightly messy—probably hadn't slept much—but his eyes were clear and sharp, trained on her with something unreadable behind them.

Anya didn't spare him a glance.

Not because she didn't notice.

But because she had to unlearn the habit of caring.

"Miss Anya," the vice dean said, glasses glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights, "we've received a formal complaint from several students."

He folded his hands. "They're requesting your removal as General Secretary. They claim you physically assaulted them."

Silence fell like a guillotine.

Anya tilted her head, voice calm but cold. "I pushed them off because they tried to touch me without consent. That's not assault,it's self-defense."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Still, the use of force."

She cut in, her voice slicing through the room. "And what about the psychological force, sir? The kind that leaves bruises on your mind, not your body?"

Murmurs stirred behind her.

"I've been harassed online, mocked on the college forum, accused of sleeping my way into this position. For a week now. Not one word from the administration."

Ryan's jaw clenched. Sinnea's gaze darted sideways. Ethan crossed his arms tighter.

Anya kept her eyes on the vice dean. "You gave me this role. But when the backlash started, you went silent. Students insult me openly now. They call me names in the corridors."

The vice dean's face paled.

Anya took a slow breath and thought. "And in my last life, the petition to remove me started a year and a half later. By then, the damage was permanent. I was already broken."

A cold stillness settled over the room.

The vice dean blinked. "I'm sorry… but still you should control yourself.?"

"I've handled more than my duties. I've covered the assistant secretary's tasks. Cultural and event planning. Logistics. Every report. Every single time someone else failed to show up."

She met his eyes. "And I've already filed a police report. They're tracing the IPs. I want charges filed."

The vice dean nearly choked. "The police?! That could damage the university's image!"

Anya's voice sharpened. "And what about mine? I'm seventeen. A minor. What does your 'image' matter if you can't even protect your students?"

The room froze.

The murmurs from the back quieted.

"I didn't want this to become dramatic," she added, softer now but deadlier. "But if no one stands for me, I'll stand alone."

Finally, the vice dean spoke, weakly. "Let's… cooperate with the police. We'll support the investigation and… resolve this fairly."

Anya gave a single nod. "That's all I ask."

They exited the room in silence.

Anya walked ahead, spine straight, every step steady.

Behind her, the dance team trailed in an awkward clump of tension.

"Wait," Ethan whispered, yanking out his phone. "What forum is she talking about?"

Sinnea bit her lip. "I thought it was just gossip. Nothing serious…"

Ryan didn't say a word.

He was already scrolling.

The threads blinked across the screen like knives:

"Secretary or seductress?"

"Daddy's money or management skills?"

"Guess she faints when she wants attention."

Ethan swore. "This is disgusting. They're tearing her apart!"

One of the team members chuckled nervously. "It's just banter, man.."

"Banter?" Ethan snapped, voice rising. "It's defamation. She's a minor. And we stood around while she was being fed to wolves."

Still, Ryan said nothing. But his fingers were trembling slightly around his phone.

His gaze stayed locked on Anya's retreating back.

Once, she'd stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek after a show. Once, she'd baked him chocolate cookies because he'd missed a meal coding late into the night.

But now?

She was ice.

Controlled.

Unreachable.

Ethan caught up to her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anya paused. Her lashes lowered slightly. "You had the semifinals. I didn't want to distract you."

He frowned, furious and helpless. "That's not fair. I could've .."

She touched his arm. "It's okay. I'm okay."

But deep inside, something screamed.

My brother ,In my last life, I lost you.

You were used, manipulated, and you died protecting me.

Not again.

This time, I'll protect you. Even from the people closest to me.

She turned and kept walking through the corridor of glass and whispers and guilt her silence heavier than any scream.