Second chance at his heart

The old wound

The applause followed us out of the auditorium.

Not loud enough to feel overwhelming, but enough to leave warmth buzzing beneath my skin as our group stepped backstage. Dave looked seconds away from passing out from relief. Ama was grinning so hard her cheeks were probably hurting.

“We survived,” she declared dramatically, clutching her chest. “I genuinely thought I was going to throw up before we went on stage.”

“You looked fine,” Dave said.

“That’s because I suffer beautifully.”

Kai laughed softly beside me, and I hated how aware I was of it.

Mrs. A appeared near the curtains, clipboard tucked under one arm. “Good work, Group 4. Strong structure, clean delivery. Mercer, surprisingly professional.”

Kai placed a hand over his heart. “That almost sounded like praise.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said dryly.

Dave snorted.

Mrs. A turned to me next. “Excellent recovery during the financial questions, Lila. You handled the board well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She nodded once before moving on to the next group.

The second she disappeared, Ama grabbed my shoulders dramatically. “You were terrifying up there.”

“That’s supposed to be a compliment?”

“It is when you’re talking about business presentations.”

“You nearly destroyed the projection screen with your laser pointer,” Dave added.

“It was one time.”

“It was six.”

Their argument faded into the background as my attention drifted.

Kai was watching me again.

Not casually.

Not the careless, half-interested look he used to give everyone.

This was different.

Focused.

Intent.

Like he was trying to solve something.

“What?” I asked finally.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “You smile differently now.”

I blinked. “What does that even mean?”

“It means…” He tilted his head, studying me. “Before, your smiles always looked careful. Like you were checking whether other people approved first.”

My chest tightened unexpectedly.

“And now?” I asked quietly.

“Now they look real.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

Dangerous.

That was the problem with Kai Mercer.

He could say one soft thing and make it feel bigger than it should.

Ama’s phone rang loudly, breaking the moment.

“Oh, thank God,” she said, checking the screen. “My driver’s here. I’m leaving before another presentation kills me.”

Dave grabbed his bag. “Same. I’ve got football practice.”

And just like that, they were gone.

Leaving me alone with Kai again.

Of course.

The hallway outside the auditorium had mostly emptied by then. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the tall windows, painting gold across the polished floors.

“You heading home?” Kai asked.

“Eventually.”

“You always answer questions like they’re trick questions?”

I adjusted the strap of my bag. “Only when I don’t trust the person asking.”

“Ouch.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I’m starting to think you enjoy threatening me.”

I almost smiled despite myself. “Maybe.”

He looked entirely too pleased by that.

We started walking down the hallway together in comfortable silence. Outside, dark clouds had started gathering over the city skyline.

Rain.

Perfect.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Kai said suddenly.

I glanced at him. “About what?”

“Having your back.”

His voice had lost its teasing edge.

“I know you think I’m still the same i***t from before,” he continued. “Maybe I am, sometimes. But I’m trying not to be.”

The honesty in his tone caught me off guard.

In my first life, Kai avoided emotional conversations like they physically hurt him.

This version of him kept stepping toward them instead.

“That’s not really my problem,” I said carefully.

He nodded once. “Fair.”

But something about his expression shifted anyway. Not anger. Not disappointment.

Acceptance.

Like he understood he deserved my distance.

That somehow made it worse.

By the time we reached the front entrance, rain was already pouring hard enough to blur the streets beyond the gates.

Students crowded beneath the awning, groaning dramatically while calling drivers and checking weather apps.

Eva spotted me immediately.

“There you are,” she said, hurrying over. “Your driver’s stuck in traffic. We’re trapped.”

“Great.”

She followed my gaze toward the rain, then noticed Kai beside me.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “You’re still alive.”

Kai looked offended. “You say that like it’s surprising.”

“It usually is when Lila spends extended periods around you.”

“Eva.”

“What? I’m protecting you.”

Kai leaned closer to me slightly. “See? Your best friend hates me.”

“She tolerates you conditionally.”

“Harsh.”

“Accurate,” Eva cut in.

A loud crack of thunder echoed outside.

Several students screamed dramatically.

Kai glanced toward the rain again before pulling something from his bag.

An umbrella.

Of course he had one.

“Mercer Holdings money,” Eva muttered. “Rich people prepare for weather now?”

Kai ignored her and looked at me instead. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I can wait.”

“You could,” he agreed. “Or you could avoid getting stranded here another hour.”

Eva looked between us suspiciously.

Then, traitor that she was, she shoved me lightly toward him.

“Go. Your driver can pick you up from the front gate.”

“Eva—”

“I’m staying here anyway. My brother’s coming.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

She smiled innocently.

I hated her sometimes.

Kai opened the umbrella with one smooth movement. “Ready?”

I hesitated only half a second before stepping beside him.

Big mistake.

The second we walked into the rain-cooled air, everything felt too close.

The umbrella wasn’t small exactly, but Kai was tall, broad-shouldered, and warm beside me. The scent of rain mixed with his cologne, clean and sharp.

“You’re tense,” he said after a minute.

“I’m standing next to a known public nuisance.”

He laughed quietly. “There she is.”

“There who is?”

“The girl who used to hide behind polite answers.”

I looked straight ahead. “People change.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

Rain tapped steadily against the umbrella overhead.

Cars moved slowly through the wet streets outside the school gates, headlights glowing against slick pavement.

Kai’s voice softened slightly.

“What changed you?”

The question hit harder than it should have.

Death, I almost said.

Regret.

Losing everything before I realized I wanted more.

Instead, I shrugged lightly. “Life.”

He looked at me like he knew that answer meant more than I was saying.

But for once, he didn’t push.

We reached the side entrance near the parking lot just as my phone buzzed.

Driver: Miss Chen, traffic is delayed another twenty minutes.

Perfect.

I sighed quietly.

Kai glanced at my screen. “Still stuck?”

“Apparently.”

He looked toward the nearly empty campus behind us. “Come on.”

“What?”

“The rooftop.”

I stared at him. “In the rain?”

“There’s a covered section,” he said. “Unless you’d rather stand here pretending not to like me for twenty minutes.”

“I don’t like you.”

“See? Pretending.”

Before I could argue, he started walking back toward the building.

And somehow, unbelievably, I followed him.

---

The rooftop smelled like rain and cold concrete.

Wind pushed softly against the metal fencing surrounding the edges, carrying the distant sounds of traffic below. The covered seating area near the stairwell was empty except for us.

Kai shook rainwater from the umbrella before leaning it against the wall.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

The city stretched beyond the school in blurred lights and gray skies.

“I used to come up here a lot,” Kai said eventually.

“To skip class?”

He grinned. “Mostly.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“But sometimes…” His expression shifted slightly. “Sometimes it was just quiet here.”

I leaned against the railing carefully.

In my first life, I’d never been here with him alone.

Funny how small changes could rewrite entire memories.

“You ever get tired?” he asked suddenly.

“Of what?”

“Being perfect all the time.”

I let out a soft breath. “I’m not perfect.”

“Maybe not.” He leaned beside me. “But you act like if you make one mistake, the world ends.”

If only he knew.

The wind picked up harder.

For a moment, all I could hear was rain hitting metal rooftops somewhere below us.

Then Kai spoke again, quieter this time.

“When my dad looks at me…” He laughed once, humorless. “It’s like he’s waiting for me to screw up.”

I turned slightly toward him.

“That’s why you act like nothing matters,” I realized.

His eyes flickered briefly with surprise.

“Maybe.”

“You can’t disappoint people if they already expect the worst.”

Something unreadable crossed his face.

“You really have changed,” he murmured.

The way he said it almost sounded sad.

Before I could answer, thunder cracked loudly overhead.

Instinctively, I flinched.

And suddenly—

Hospital lights.

Cold sheets.

Monitors screaming.

The smell of antiseptic.

Kai’s voice saying, I’m sorry I was too late.

My breathing stopped.

No.

Not now.

The memory hit so violently my knees nearly gave out.

“Lila?”

Kai’s voice sounded far away.

I stepped back quickly, pulse spiraling out of control.

“I’m fine.”

Lie.

The rooftop blurred.

Rain.

Hospital.

Kai.

Death.

Regret.

Too much.

“Hey.” His voice sharpened with concern. “Look at me.”

I couldn’t.

My chest hurt.

Tears burned unexpectedly behind my eyes, humiliating and sudden.

Not here.

Not in front of him.

I turned away quickly, pressing a hand against my mouth.

But then I felt it—

Warm fingers wrapping gently around my wrist.

Not trapping.

Not forcing.

Just there.

Grounding.

“Lila,” Kai said softly.

And something inside me cracked.

I hated it.

Hated how safe his voice sounded.

Hated how badly I wanted to lean into it.

One tear slipped free before I could stop it.

Kai’s expression changed instantly.

I’d never seen him look genuinely panicked before.

“Hey,” he said again, quieter now. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

The words came out broken.

Rain hammered against the rooftop around us.

Kai stared at me for one long second before stepping closer carefully, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too fast.

Then, very gently, he pulled me against him.

I froze.

His arms wrapped around me slowly, giving me room to pull away.

I didn’t.

Maybe I should have.

But for the first time since waking up in this second life, I was tired.

Tired of pretending I wasn’t scared.

Tired of pretending the memories didn’t hurt.

Kai rested his chin lightly against my hair.

And softly—so softly I almost missed it—he said:

“I don’t know what happened to you.”

His hand tightened slightly against my back.

“But I won’t let you cry like this again.”

My breath caught.

The words hit something deep inside me.

Because once before, in another life, he had.

And somehow…

Somehow I believed he meant it this time.

The thought terrified me more than anything else.

---