On the day our final AP scores and college housing assignments were released, I received a bizarre text message from an unknown number. [Your best friend and your childhood sweetheart have been sleeping together. If you don't believe me, step out onto the balcony.] I walked out just in time to see a massive wave crash against the Cabo shoreline, completely untying Hailey’s bikini top. With a panicked squeal, she threw her arms around Tristan, pressing her bare chest flush against his torso to hide herself. The surrounding crowd of our high school classmates erupted into a chorus of suggestive whistles and catcalls. The sound made my ears ring with a high-pitched whine. My fingers flew across the screen: [Who is this?] The sender ignored my question. [Keep watching.] Down on the sand, their faces were flushed—not with embarrassment, but with a guilty, heated kind of thrill. They awkwardly shuffled behind a massive jagged boulder, completely disappearing from my line of sight. My phone buzzed three times in rapid succession. [Tomorrow night, Tristan is going to propose that you two finally make it official. Five years of dating, three years of marriage, and that is when you’ll finally discover that Hailey has been his mistress for a decade. And every single one of your mutual friends knew.] [By then, you'll be pregnant. Knowing they have you trapped, they won't even bother hiding it anymore. The postpartum depression will shatter you. You'll nearly jump off your penthouse balcony with your baby in your arms. You will abandon your career in physics and rot away in a gilded cage.] Reading that last message, my knees buckled. I had to grip the balcony railing just to stay standing. The final text appeared: [I am begging you, Serena. Please don't live my life.] 1 I immediately hit call on the number. A robotic, pre-recorded voice echoed in my ear: "The number you are trying to reach is currently busy." I froze, pulling the phone away from my ear to look at the screen. The string of digits on the caller ID... it was my own phone number. I fired off half a dozen more texts, my hands shaking. They all vanished into the digital void, swallowed by silence. My mind was a chaotic blur as I took the elevator down to the resort lobby. The heavy glass doors slid open, and I nearly collided with a group of my classmates returning from the beach. Hailey spotted me first. She waved eagerly, a bright, innocent smile plastered on her face. "Serena! Did you check the college portal yet?" Her tone was light, airy. "I got a 5 on my AP Lit exam! I bet your scores are literally perfect." Tristan was standing right beside her, his broad shoulders tense, a scowl pulling at his handsome features. "Don't ask stupid questions, Hailey," he snapped. "My scores were locked for review, which means Serena’s definitely are too. She's always at the top of the curve." Hailey instantly shrank into herself, dropping her gaze to the marble floor like a startled quail. She had grown up in a cramped, working-class duplex before my family took her in. Because of it, she possessed this inherent, suffocating timidity. She always spoke softly, always watching people's faces to gauge their reactions. Tristan, who was born into California old money, was fiery, arrogant, and relentlessly unapologetic. He had always claimed to despise her "pathetic, weak" demeanor. He publicly humiliated Hailey all the time, and I was always the one stepping in to keep the peace. But now, looking at their perfectly composed faces, not a single word was spoken about their intimately compromised position behind the rocks just twenty minutes ago. A cold shiver snaked down my spine. How close must they be behind closed doors to share a secret like that without missing a beat? I was too exhausted to play the mediator today. "I saw what happened in the water." A flicker of raw panic flashed across Tristan's dark eyes. But it was gone in a millisecond, replaced seamlessly by a mask of profound annoyance. "I'm sorry, Serena," he sighed, running a hand through his damp, salt-tousled hair. "She just threw herself at me. I didn't have time to back away." He shot a venomous glare at Hailey. "Explain it to her. Don't let Serena think I actually wanted you touching me." Hailey's eyes instantly welled with tears, her lower lip trembling. "I... I panicked! Tristan was the closest person, and I just needed something to hide behind!" Her voice broke into tiny, pathetic sobs. "I was so humiliated, I just cried and begged him to block me. If I had known you'd be upset, Serena, I would have just let everyone see me naked." "It's my fault," she whimpered, wiping her cheeks. "I've never been on a luxury vacation before. I didn't know the waves here were so strong..." "You idiot," Tristan muttered, his scowl deepening. "Wearing a string bikini like that, who knows if you were trying to swim or just trying to seduce someone." The sprawling hotel lobby fell dead silent. The only sound was Hailey's wet, choked gasps. A few affluent guests in the lounge turned their heads to stare. Beside me, I heard a couple of girls from my AP Calculus class whispering. "God, Serena is being so aggressive. It was just a wardrobe malfunction..." "Right? They aren't even officially dating yet, and she's already acting like a jealous psycho over her own best friend. Talk about being desperate for male validation." It was absurd. Utterly, tragically absurd. From beginning to end, I had only spoken a single sentence. Yet everyone was looking at me like I was the villain. If that text message really was from the future... it meant I had been played for a fool by my best friend and the boy I trusted most in the world. For an entire decade. Just the thought of it felt like a giant, invisible hand had reached into my chest and crushed my heart into a bloody pulp. But heartbreak was one thing. My pride would absolutely not allow me to break down in the middle of a Mexican resort lobby in front of an audience. I stared at the two of them for three long, agonizing seconds. Then, I turned on my heel and walked away. 2 When I got back to the suite, I pulled the heavy duvet over my head and let Hailey cry on her bed for the entire night. I didn't say a word. The next day, we followed the itinerary our senior class president had set up, hitting all the tourist traps in Cabo. There were only three days left of our graduation trip. I wasn't going to ruin it for the rest of the class. Tristan and Hailey flanked me the entire day, one on my left, one on my right, offering me bottles of water and desperately trying to strike up conversations. I responded with impenetrable silence. After a lavish seafood dinner, the class president suggested we head up to the resort's rooftop terrace. "There's a meteor shower tonight! Let's go make some wishes before college!" After a grueling day of excursions, all I wanted was the quiet of my hotel room, but I was swept up in the current of sixty cheering teenagers and dragged to the roof. The moment the heavy glass doors opened, I froze. Strings of warm, golden fairy lights cascaded from the pergolas, mimicking a shower of falling stars. A thick carpet of red rose petals led to the edge of the terrace, where Tristan stood in the center of a massive heart shaped out of flickering candles. The crowd erupted into cheers, physically shoving me forward until I was standing right in front of him. Tomorrow night, Tristan is going to propose that you two finally make it official. The timeline from the text was dead on. Tristan looked at me, his dark eyes melting into something incredibly tender, and launched into a sweeping, romantic monologue. Half the girls on the roof were wiping tears from their eyes. "Serena... since we were six years old, I knew it was going to be you. Be my girlfriend?" I opened my mouth to reject him, but before the word could form, a terrifying, familiar tightness seized my chest. My airway constricted. An asthma attack. My hand instinctively shot to the pocket of my sundress. My inhaler wasn't there. I never leave the room without it. My vision blurred at the edges, darkening into static. A flashback from dinner hit me like a physical blow. Hailey had brought me a slice of chocolate lava cake, her eyes red and puffy. "Serena, you always said sugar fixes a bad mood. Please stop being mad at me?" There had been a dusting of dark powder on the cake. I assumed it was cocoa powder. As the class had begun to whisper about how cruel I was being to her, I caved. I took two bites. My chest felt like it was trapped in a vise. Hailey had lived in my house for three years. She knew perfectly well that I had a lethal allergy to hazelnuts. Panic rippled through the crowd as I gasped for air, my knees buckling. Before I could hit the wooden decking, a strong, firm arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me flush against a solid chest. "Don't panic. The paramedics are on their way," a low, incredibly steady voice commanded by my ear. "Lean forward. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slower." A sharp, clean scent of cedar and lemon washed over me. The sheer authority in his voice grounded me. I stopped thrashing and tried to follow his rhythm. A moment later, a plastic mouthpiece was shoved past my lips. A blast of cold, life-saving medication flooded my burning lungs. As my vision slowly stitched itself back together, I looked up. It wasn't Tristan holding me. It was Rowan Sinclair. The boy who had spent the last four years ruthlessly battling me for the title of Valedictorian. The notoriously aloof, devastatingly handsome academic rival was half-kneeling on the deck, his usually icy gray eyes tight with genuine concern. "Thank you," I rasped, my throat raw. I turned my head. Hailey was standing a few feet away, her face streaked with tears. "The cake was dusted with hazelnut powder. You did that on purpose." All the blood drained from Hailey's face. "Serena, how could you even say that?! You're my best friend!" "It was an accident! I thought it was cocoa powder!" She suddenly slapped her own cheek, hard, bursting into fresh, hysterical tears. "If I had just asked the waiter, you wouldn't be hurt! I'm so stupid!" "Fine. Let's say the cake was a tragic accident," I said, my voice hoarse but razor-sharp. "What about the inhaler in my pocket? Did you 'accidentally' misplace that too?" Her eyes went wide with theatrical horror. "I didn't!" "Serena, you left it on your nightstand! I ran all the way back to the room to get it for you..." "Enough." Tristan pushed his way through the crowd, his brow deeply furrowed. "She literally tripped and busted her head open running to get your meds, Serena." He gestured to a small scrape on Hailey's forehead, his tone dripping with protective resentment. "You can't even say thank you? You have to throw a princess tantrum?" I looked up at him. Slowly. Tristan faltered. It was as if he suddenly remembered I had nearly just died. His voice softened, patronizing and gentle. "You guys are best friends. I just don't want you saying things you'll regret when you calm down." I didn't have the energy to argue. I had just narrowly escaped death; speaking felt like swallowing glass. I braced my hands on the deck to push myself up, and Rowan immediately slipped his hand under my elbow, pulling me safely to my feet. Tristan stared at the point where Rowan's hand touched my skin. His jaw ticked. I murmured another quiet thanks to Rowan, then looked at the girl weeping on the floor. "Hailey. Regardless of whether it was intentional or not, I can't share a room with you anymore. Go book your own." Her lips parted in shock. We were staying in the resort's premium oceanfront suite. It was a thousand dollars a night. My mother gave Hailey a generous allowance, but keeping up appearances at our elite private school meant she spent it as fast as she got it. She could barely afford a standard room by the ice machine. Hailey looked like she had just been sentenced to the guillotine, tears brimming on her lower lashes as she looked desperately at Tristan. Tristan pressed his lips into a thin, angry line. But when he met my dead, uncompromising stare, he swallowed his protests. He didn't say a word. 3 I had a resort staff member escort us to the room. Hailey sobbed the entire time she packed her suitcase. When the door finally clicked shut behind her, the dam inside me broke. I sank to the floor, memories of my twelve years with Tristan flashing behind my eyes like a film reel. We met when we were six. We were inseparable. We held hands walking to the bus stop, ate lunch on the same bench, and refused to play if the other wasn't invited. Once, Tristan's mother joked over a glass of wine, "Maybe we should just arrange their marriage now and merge the companies." Before the adults could laugh, a ten-year-old Tristan had slammed his juice box on the table, his little face dead serious. "Mom, don't say that. It’s not a joke. I'm waiting until Serena grows up so I can ask her properly." His mother had teased, "And what if Serena says no?" He blinked, his mouth set in a stubborn pout. "Then... I'll just wait forever!" I had carried that memory in my heart for years. Just a few months ago, for Tristan's eighteenth birthday, I spent three months meticulously crafting a scrapbook. It was filled with a decade of our Polaroid photos, theme park wristbands, and movie stubs. When he turned to the final page, his eyelashes were wet. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. I closed my eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs. But at the very last second, he stopped. "Serena. Wait until graduation," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I have something incredibly important to ask you." Tristan was a wildfire of a boy. Loud, reckless, and fiercely independent. But with me, he was always so painfully careful. So restrained. He cherished me so much that it completely blinded me to reality. Hailey was the daughter of our estate’s head housekeeper. The summer before high school, her mother pushed me out of the way of a speeding drunk driver, dying on impact. She left behind a fourteen-year-old Hailey and an ailing grandmother. Out of a profound sense of debt and gratitude, my family moved Hailey from her crumbling neighborhood into our sprawling Bel Air estate. We transferred her to my elite prep school. She was a frightened rabbit in a den of wolves. So, I took her under my wing. I bought her the right clothes, introduced her to my circle, and spent hours tutoring her. The first time Tristan met her, he sneered. "Why is the maid's kid following you around? She doesn't belong with us." It was the first time Tristan and I ever had a screaming match. We didn't speak for a week. After that, I forced Hailey to come everywhere with us. Tristan was clearly annoyed, but he didn't want to lose me, so he forced himself to tolerate her. Eventually, he started bringing her an iced coffee when he brought mine. He bought her a designer scarf for her birthday. I always thought he was just doing it to make me happy. But when did it change? When did the boy who promised to wait for me forever quietly carve out a space in his heart for someone else? My phone screen suddenly lit up the dark room. [The temporal connection is highly unstable. I could lose contact at any second.] [Hailey triggered your asthma on purpose. She knew you’d kick her out. That was the only way Tristan could go to her room tonight.] [Go knock on Rowan Sinclair's door. Tristan booked Hailey a room right next door to his. I know this is brutal, Serena. But you need to see it with your own eyes to kill the love you have for him, or you will never change your fate.] I stared at the glowing text, the breath trapped in my throat. Rowan Sinclair was the untouchable ice prince of our graduating class. Yes, he had saved my life tonight, but it was 1:00 AM. Why would he let me into his hotel room in the middle of the night? Before I could type out the question, a new message popped up. [He will open the door. In the timeline where you survive... Rowan Sinclair is your husband. He has been hopelessly in love with you for years.] 4 I sucked in a sharp breath. I texted back, but the line was completely dead. Silence. Standing in front of Room 1105, I hesitated for a long moment before pressing the doorbell. Less than a minute later, the door swung open. Rowan stood in the doorway, momentarily stunned. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower. His dark, inky hair was dripping wet. Small beads of water rolled down his broad, sculpted chest, tracing the hard lines of his abs before disappearing into the towel slung low on his hips. A wave of steam rolled off his skin, carrying the scent of rich cedarwood. My face erupted in heat. He lowered his gaze to me. "Is something wrong?" "I..." my throat was completely dry. "Can I just stay in here for ten minutes? Just ten minutes." Rowan paused, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped aside. I hadn't expected him to agree so easily. "Thank you." I stepped into the suite, feeling entirely out of place. "Can you... turn off the lights?" He didn't ask a single question. He flicked off the main switch and retreated toward the bathroom. "I'll go put some clothes on." I exhaled a shaky breath and slowly walked out onto his balcony. The sound of the ocean waves was immediately eclipsed by the noises drifting over from the balcony next door. "...it hurts, Tristan, slow down..." "You were completely out of line today. If it hurts, take it." Tristan's voice was gravelly, heavy with a dark, primal lust I had never heard before. The salty ocean breeze stung my eyes, but I forced myself to keep them open. I gripped the railing. Hailey's voice was soft, laced with a sickly sweet whine. "Mmm... then why are you still going?" "Serena suffered tonight. I have to take it out on you." The sickening sound of skin slapping against skin was followed by a breathy, stifled moan. My knuckles turned bone-white against the metal railing. Fat, hot tears fell from my chin, shattering against the back of my hands. "Okay, that's enough," Hailey pleaded softly. "Shouldn't you go coax your little childhood sweetheart?" "Tomorrow," Tristan chuckled, a low, breathy sound. "We're not done. You still owe me for yesterday." It was the middle of July, but I was shivering so violently my teeth chattered. I turned around. Rowan was standing in the shadows just inside the balcony door. He was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants. I didn't know how long he had been standing there. "I... I didn't know," Rowan said quietly, his voice laced with heavy regret. "If I had known they were out there, I would have warned you." I looked up at him. His brows were deeply knit, his jaw clenched tight. I suddenly remembered the text message: And every single one of your mutual friends knew. Rowan wasn't in our friend group. He genuinely hadn't known. The moonlight spilled across the balcony, illuminating the sharp, aristocratic lines of his face. "Can you..." I whispered, my voice breaking. "Can you just hold me?" He froze. "Yeah." He stepped forward and pulled me against his chest. I buried my face in his shirt and sobbed, a quiet, suffocating kind of weeping. His entire body was stiff as a board, his large hands awkwardly but gently stroking my spine. Slowly, the steady, grounding rhythm of his heartbeat calmed the violent trembling in my hands. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the sickeningly sweet moans still drifting from the next balcony. Or maybe, deep down, I believed the message that this boy was my future husband. My body moved before my brain could stop it. I reached up, gripping his shoulders, and clumsily pushed up on my tiptoes. Rowan went completely still for a fraction of a second. Then, his large hand cupped the back of my neck, tilting my head up as he kissed me back. Hard. His mouth was hot and demanding, a complete contrast to his icy exterior. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, the sheer intensity of it making my head spin. So this was what a real kiss felt like.
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