Collapsed.

I stormed into Chloe's house without knocking. She opened the door mid-toast bite and barely had time to blink.

"You okay?" she asked, voice full of worry.

"No," I said. "And I need you."

Ten minutes later, I was sitting on her bedroom floor, hugging a pillow like it might hold me together.

"You kissed him?" Chloe whispered, eyes wide.

"Twice," I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"Emma…" she said, more disappointed than angry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," I said, voice cracking. "Because I felt like a mess? Because it was stupid? Because I feel like I'm cheating on Peter in every timeline?"

She was quiet for a moment, then exhaled.

"I'm mad. Not because you kissed him," she said. "But because you didn't tell me. I'm your best friend, dummy. I'm supposed to be the first to know about your bad decisions."

I gave a watery laugh. "You're still on my side?"

"Always," she said, throwing a pillow at my face. "But girl, what the hell are you doing with ancient mysterious hotties in cars?"

"I don't know!" I groaned, flopping back on the floor. "He scares me. But he also saved me. Not now—in my past life, Chloe. He was the boy from the mural. He remembers everything. And he told me he watched me die…"

Chloe stared at me.

"You're living in a fanfiction."

"Feels like a horror-romance crossover."

---

Next Day – In Class

Things were weird.

Peter barely looked at me, even when Chloe tried nudging him.

Something felt off.

And then… Amanda.

Wearing a smug, catty grin like she just won the lottery.

"Guys," she said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "You'll never guess who I saw yesterday."

I froze.

"Emma Blanders," she continued, eyes glittering, "sitting in a black convertible, looking real cozy with some guy. Real handsy."

My heart stopped.

"Oh," she added innocently, "and they kissed. Twice. Just saying."

The class gasped. Peter's head jerked toward me.

I stood up. "Amanda, shut your mouth—"

"I have pictures," she cut me off. "But I won't share them. Because I'm not that mean."

The whole class murmured. Peter's face was blank—stone cold.

"Peter, please don't—" I started, rushing toward him.

He looked at me, pain burning behind his eyes.

"You told me nothing happened," he said quietly.

"It didn't," I said, voice trembling. "Nothing happened between us—not the way she's saying. She's twisting it—lying, like always!"

"She said you kissed him."

"I pushed him away!" I snapped. "It was a peck! I was interrogating him! He's connected to all of this—he's Mrs. Grace's son! I needed answers, and he—he tricked me."

Peter stood slowly. "Did you like it?"

My world spun.

"What?" I whispered.

"The kiss," he said, voice flat. "Did you like it?"

Tears blurred my vision. I couldn't answer.

Peter didn't wait. He walked out of the classroom.

I just stood there, shaking.

The rage boiling in my stomach was volcanic. My fingers trembled. Amanda was still laughing. Whispering. Smirking.

"You liar," I growled.

"Truth hurts, huh?" she said with a shrug.

"I told you to shut up," I said again.

"Aww. You mad?" Amanda said with a mocking smile.

And that's when it started.

The click in my mind. The hum in my blood. My vision blurred, narrowed. All I could see was her.

She kept talking.

But I wasn't hearing words anymore.

Her head tilted slightly, and her voice cracked mid-sentence.

Her eyes widened.

"What the—?"

She clutched her throat.

The room went silent. One student screamed.

Amanda gasped for air as her neck twisted slightly on its own.

Chloe screamed my name. "Emma, stop!"

I couldn't.

My hands were trembling, fists clenched. I wasn't even touching her.

Amanda dropped to her knees, clawing at her own skin.

Crack.

A sickening noise echoed across the room.

Her eyes rolled back.

"EMMA!" Mrs. Grace's voice rang out like thunder, and within a second, I felt it—a force, ancient and powerful—slam into me.

I flew backward, crashing against a desk, the wind knocked out of me.

Amanda collapsed to the floor.

Chloe ran to me. "Are you okay?! Emma!"

Mrs. Grace was already by Amanda, placing trembling fingers on her neck.

"She's alive," she breathed. "But just barely."

Sirens were called. The ambulance came.

I sat in the corner, shaking, covered in tears and guilt and fear.

Chloe wrapped her arms around me, holding me like I might break.

Peter never came back into the classroom.

The hospital lights still haunt me.

Amanda was still unconscious—tubes, wires, bruises all over. She looked like a porcelain doll someone had tried to shatter and failed halfway.

Peter stood at the edge of her bed, motionless.

He didn't say anything when I entered the room.

Didn't look at me.

Didn't blink.

Just… stood there.

I wanted to explain again. To scream. To cry. But all I saw was his eyes. Empty. Cold. Almost hateful.

Like in my dream.

And that broke me.

Because in the dream, it was that same look—right before everything burned.

---

The Next Day – On the Street

I was walking back home after picking some meds from the pharmacy. I saw him outside a grocery store, carrying a paper bag.

Peter.

I froze.

And something in me just… cracked.

"I'm sorry," I said, walking toward him, my voice shaky. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean for it to happen like that—don't hate me. Please. Don't slap me. Please, Peter."

He didn't say anything. His lips pressed into a hard line, jaw clenched.

I reached out like a child begging not to be punished.

"I didn't mean to hurt you—I'm messed up, okay? I didn't want to kiss him—I didn't know what I was doing—my head was spinning—I was scared—I needed answers—"

"Emma…" he said coldly.

I broke.

My knees gave out. My vision blurred. The world tilted like a sinking ship.

And everything went dark.

---

What I Didn't Know

Liam had been watching from a distance. He always did. Like a ghost lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to collapse again.

He saw me faint before anyone else did.

And he ran.

Ran like the pavement was on fire.

Peter turned at the sound of footsteps pounding behind him—just in time to see a stranger catch me in his arms.

Liam.

"Emma?" he shouted, brushing hair from my face. "Emma, wake up—come on!"

Peter blinked. Confused. Watching.

"Who the hell are you?" Peter demanded.

Liam didn't even look at him.

Instead, he cradled me tighter, whispering something I couldn't hear.

Then, he turned. Eyes furious.

"Even though I kissed her—even though—she still wanted you, you idiot!" Liam roared. "She kept saying your name in her sleep, kept crying about hurting you—and this is how you treat her?! You walk away? You ignore her?! You break her heart?!"

Peter froze.

Liam walked to his car, carrying me like I weighed nothing.

He opened the door.

Peter hesitated.

Then dropped his groceries and ran.

"Wait—I'm coming too."

Liam gave him a deadly glare.

Peter ignored it and climbed into the backseat.

---

Hospital – Later That Day

I was lying on the bed, unconscious. My pulse steady but shallow.

Machines beeped. Fluids dripped. My hair was tangled. My lip was cracked.

Peter sat in the corner. Liam stood by the bed, arms folded, watching me like a guard dog.

"You shouldn't be here," Liam finally said.

"You shouldn't have kissed her," Peter shot back.

"She was broken. I helped her stand," Liam snapped. "You were the one who pushed her over the edge."

Peter flinched.

"I messed up," Peter admitted, voice low. "But I loved her before I even knew her last name."

Liam looked at him.

And for the first time, there wasn't anger—just pain.

"She loves you," Liam said. "Even though she's scared of you sometimes… even though she shouldn't. She still does."

Peter stared at the floor.

"I didn't know," he said quietly. "I thought she betrayed me. I thought… she moved on."

Liam sighed. "She was trying to survive. In a world where people are chasing her, lying to her, and pulling her apart, she was just trying to breathe."

Peter nodded, eyes glassy.

Then, my hand moved.

They both snapped to attention.

"Emma?" Peter whispered, walking to the bed.

I stirred. Lips trembling.

"Peter…?" I mumbled. "I'm sorry… please don't leave."

"I'm not," he said, voice cracking. "I'm here."

But I didn't wake up fully.

I didn't remember anything.

Not the street. Not collapsing. Not Liam's shouting. Not Peter sitting beside me for hours.

Just the dream of fire. Of hate. Of love twisted into something dark.