My Stalker's Thermos

The year I was studying for the grad school entrance exam, the guy who sat across from me saved my seat and brought me hot water every single day. In my first life, I accepted his confession. The moment we made our relationship official, he dragged me into the mountains, where I wasted away and died. In my second life, I was so terrified that I didn't dare set foot in the study room for an entire week. But on the first day I finally went back, there he was again, sitting in his usual seat and smiling at me. I tried switching to a different study room, but he noticed. He caught me alone and dragged me away before anyone could see. When I opened my eyes again, I had entered my third life. I was still clutching my chest and gasping as the lingering terror washed over me when I saw him hold out the same thermos he brought me every day. I gritted my teeth, grabbed the guy sitting next to me, who had his headphones on and was playing a game, and blurted out, "Boyfriend! Let's go grab something to eat!" Chapter 1 I pressed a hand to my chest and gasped for air. My lungs felt as though they were filled with icy wind, each breath burning with pain. The sensation of dying in my first two lives still clung to my bones. The moldy stench of that mud-brick house, the rusty tang of the rented room, the shrill screech of brakes in the instant before the crash. The memories churned together until my temples throbbed. I raised my eyes again and found myself staring at the familiar library study area. A warm yellow desk lamp glowed nearby beside a towering stack of grad school study materials. Then a hand with prominent knuckles gently placed a thermos printed with a little bear cub on the corner of my desk. It was Bryce Jackson. He looked the same as always, gentle and refined. His white shirt was neatly buttoned at the collar, and his eyes held the same warm, familiar smile he had worn every time he handed me water in my first two lives. My blood ran cold. No. I would not make the same mistake again. In my first life, I had let my guard down and accepted his confession. He had coaxed me into moving back to his family's home in the mountains. I spent the rest of my life trapped on a few acres of land and died of illness on a mud-brick bed before I turned thirty. In my second life, I hid from him for a week. The moment I returned to the study room, he knocked me unconscious and dragged me away. He kept me locked up for three years before I finally managed to escape, only to die a horrible death beneath the wheels of a car. In this third life, I would not let him anywhere near me. Not even a little. He leaned down, about to speak. Heat rushed to my head. I whipped around and grabbed the arm of the guy sitting next to me. He wore black headphones, and his fingers flew across his phone screen. Game sound effects leaked from his headphones in bursts of static, but he did not even lift his head. I nearly shouted, "Boyfriend! Let's go grab something to eat!" The instant the words left my mouth, the rustle of turning pages at the surrounding tables abruptly stopped. The entire room fell silent for three long seconds. My hand trembled around his arm. I stared at the back of his head and prayed like crazy. His fingers paused. He slowly pulled off his headphones and turned toward me. He had handsome features, though his eyes still held a hazy, half-asleep look. He glanced at me, then at my hand gripping his arm, and frowned. "What do you mean?" My face instantly burned. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bryce's gaze turn cold as he stared at our joined arms. There was no turning back now. I steeled myself and whispered quickly, "Do me a favor. I'll owe you one." He raised an eyebrow and let out a quiet "Oh." To my surprise, he did not expose me. He slipped his headphones back on, lowered his gaze, and resumed tapping at his screen. "Fine, fine, fine. Let me finish this team fight." I let out half the breath I had been holding. But when I looked up, I found students at several nearby tables staring our way, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. Some covered their mouths and whispered. Others pulled out their phones and secretly began typing. I knew it. This was bad. The grad exam study room was not that big. News would spread faster than the wind. … At lunch, I sat through a meal in the cafeteria that felt like torture. The gamer and I did not exchange another word. He kept his head down and played games the entire time, while I picked distractedly at my pasta. When I returned to the study room that afternoon, I could practically feel everyone's eyes glued to me. I headed toward my seat, only to stop short. Bryce was still sitting across from me. But the thermos that should have been on my desk was now clutched in his hand. He looked up at me. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes were noticeably colder than they had been that morning. Chapter 2 My experience from my first two lives had taught me one thing: Bryce was never the gentle, harmless senior he appeared to be. The calmer he seemed, the worse the storm that followed. Before I could think it through, hushed voices rose nearby, deliberately lowered, but not enough to keep me from hearing. "Did you see that? Bryce didn't even bring her water today. He must be furious." "He's been chasing her for almost half a month. He saves her a seat and brings her water every single day. Then she turns around and calls some guy who plays games her boyfriend. Who wouldn't feel hurt?" "I bet she did it on purpose. She's playing hard to get, trying to keep him on a leash." "That's a messed-up way to humiliate someone. She went too far." Their words stabbed like needles, and my back went rigid. I gripped the strap of my backpack, forced myself to sit down, and pulled out my books. But I couldn't focus on a single word. I wanted to explain, but what could I possibly say? That Bryce had kidnapped and killed me in my first two lives? That he looked gentle and refined but was actually a psychopath? No one would believe me. They would only think the stress of the exam had driven me insane. I endured until the library closed for the night, then fled back to the dorm with my books clutched in my arms. I pushed open the door and found Amanda Listwood sitting in a chair with a black face mask on, her legs crossed as she scrolled through her phone. The moment she saw me, she shot upright, and the mask wrinkled across her face. "You're finally back! Are you out of your mind?" She launched straight into it. "Bryce has everything going for him. He's handsome, he gets good grades, and I heard he's even on the student council. He saves you a seat and brings you water every day, and you can't even appreciate it. You had to drag some random gamer into this and use him as a shield?" I tossed my books onto the desk, too exhausted to argue. "There's no possibility of anything happening between Bryce and me." "What do you mean, no possibility?" Amanda ripped off her mask, frustration written all over her face. "The whole floor is saying you're playing hard to get, keeping him as a backup, and that you publicly humiliated him with some random guy." "Some random guy?" I let out an angry laugh. "I said one thing without thinking. How does that make him some random guy?" Amanda shoved her phone in my face. "And you're still talking back!" The floor's group chat filled the screen, with dozens of messages about what had happened in the study room that day. [That grad exam girl on the third floor is really full of herself.] [Bryce is such a good guy, and she treats him like garbage!] [I think she was playing hard to get, and it backfired.] I stared at the messages, and my fingers went cold. "They don't know anything. How can they say that?" Amanda pulled her phone back. "They're going by what they saw with their own eyes! Bryce brings you water every day, and everyone in the study room sees him do it. "Then you turn around and call some stranger your boyfriend. Who wouldn't think you're playing him? "Listen to me. Go apologize to him right now. There's still a chance to fix this." Apologize? I'd have to be out of my mind. I turned my back on her and said nothing. … The next day, I deliberately arrived at the study room half an hour early, hoping to avoid Bryce. But less than ten minutes after I sat down, at exactly ten in the morning, Bryce walked over. He still carried the little bear thermos. He didn't look at me or say a word. He simply set it on the corner of my desk with a soft thud, then turned and walked away. Not once did he meet my eyes. I stared at the thermos as my entire body tensed. He hadn't taken it back like he had yesterday, nor had he said a single word to me. He had just set it down and left? Before I could make sense of it, a soft gasp came from somewhere behind me. "God, he's so devoted. Even after being humiliated like that, he still brings her water." "Is this what they mean by a simp? It hurts just to watch." "Some people just don't know a good thing when they see it..." Chapter 3 I spun around. Two girls at the next table were talking, both dressed in matching pink hoodies. When they saw me looking, neither backed down. Instead, one of them rolled her eyes and raised her voice. "What are you looking at? Am I wrong? Some people string a guy along and then humiliate him in public. She's a snake in disguise. She takes all his kindness, then turns around and runs to another man. Unbelievable." Each word landed like a slap across my face. I gripped my pen until my knuckles turned white. I wanted to snap back, but when I opened my mouth, all I felt was exhaustion. Arguing with them would only prove that I was "lashing out in shame." That was exactly the effect Bryce wanted. He did not have to do anything. All he had to do was play the wounded, devoted victim, and everyone else would happily nail me to the cross for him. I took a deep breath, gathered my things, and moved to the farthest corner of the study room. The moment I reached my new seat, I saw it: the same little bear thermos, sitting on the corner of the desk. As if it had eyes of its own, it had found my new spot with perfect precision. Someone walked past, spotted the thermos, and immediately started whispering, "She hid all the way over here, and he still found her. He's really persistent. If it were me, I would've been touched to tears already. How can she be so cold-hearted?" I shoved the thermos aside. In this life, I would not touch it, not even once. … By Wednesday, things had gotten much worse. At lunch, my phone would not stop buzzing. I opened the grad exam group chat and found hundreds of unread messages. I had barely scrolled through two screens before my head started pounding. Someone had posted a photo with the caption: [Girl accepts water from her senior while openly keeping a backup boyfriend on the side. Real player.] The photo had been taken in secret from a sharp angle. It captured the exact moment I reached out to take the thermos. Sunlight fell across my face, and somehow, I actually looked like I was smiling. The comments exploded. [Knew she wasn't a good person.] [Poor Bryce, running into a girl like this.] [The grad exam circle is so small. Isn't she embarrassed?] [Someone should tell her to switch study rooms. It's uncomfortable just looking at her.] I stared at the screen, then laughed. So this was what it felt like to have everyone turn against you. I had done nothing wrong. All I wanted was to stay away from a man who was going to get me killed. Yet in everyone else's eyes, I had become the worst kind of woman. … I went to the cafeteria to buy breakfast. The moment I reached the entrance, I saw it: a long white banner hanging from the parasol tree beside the door. The words had been scrawled in crooked black marker, but they were impossible to miss: [I like you, Whitney Lynch!] Heat rushed to my head. I stormed into the study room and slammed my hand down on Bryce's desk. "Bryce! Did you have someone put up that banner outside?" My voice shook with days of pent-up anger and hurt. The few people still in the study room lifted their heads and looked over. Bryce slowly closed his book and raised his eyes to me. A trace of hurt flickered in them. When he spoke, his voice was gentle and measured, almost as if he were giving a lecture, yet loud enough for everyone around us to hear. "I only wanted to be good to you. It's fine if you don't want to accept that." He paused and fixed his gaze on me, a faint sense of grievance in his expression. "But calling another man your boyfriend that day... That really did hurt me." As soon as he finished, the study room fell silent. Everyone stared at me with the kind of look reserved for a criminal, as if I had committed some unforgivable offense and Bryce was the innocent victim. I opened my mouth, but suddenly, the whole situation felt absurd. He was the one who had stalked me, harassed me, and backed me into a corner with nowhere to run. Yet somehow, I was the one in the wrong. "Cut the act!" My voice trembled with anger. "You know exactly what you are..." "What am I?" He met my gaze, his eyes calm. "I like you, so I wanted to be good to you. Whitney, I never forced you to do anything. Bringing you water was my choice. You don't owe me anything for it." Chapter 4 The more reasonable Bryce sounded, the more unreasonable I looked. I stood there like a joke. Words piled up in my throat, but not one made it out. I turned off my phone and hid in the dorm. At some point, I drifted off without even realizing it. I dreamed of my first two lives, both of which began with that familiar mountain road and the bus jolting over the rough terrain. Bryce held my hand and smiled. "My place is just ahead. My parents will love you." But when we arrived, I learned the truth. His father had died long ago, and all that awaited us was a leaking mud house and five acres of thin, worn-out farmland. "Life in the mountains is peaceful," he said. "It's perfect for building a good life together." He took my ID and phone and put them away. "The signal is bad up here. I'll keep these safe for you." I fought him, cried, and ran, but everyone in the village helped him. Every time I escaped, the villagers caught me and dragged me back to his house. He never hit me. Instead, he would sit on the edge of the bed, watch me for a while, then sigh and ask, "Why can't you just understand?" Slowly, I stopped trying to run. The days ground on like a millstone, one after another, as my life became an endless cycle of farming, feeding pigs, and raising the two children I bore, a son and a daughter. I never returned to the city, nor did I ever see the outside world again. Before I died, I looked out the window at the mountains that stretched layer upon layer into the distance, surrounding me like a cage I could never escape. I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. The blanket was soaked through. The dorm room was pitch black, with only moonlight slipping through the window. I gasped for air as my heart pounded mercilessly. No. I couldn't wait any longer. If I did, I would only repeat the same mistake. He had already started closing in, step by step. Next time, I didn't know if I could hold out at all. I had to fight back. … On Saturday morning, I dragged myself to the cafeteria with dark circles under my eyes. I hadn't made it two steps inside before I ran straight into Bryce. He sat with his three roommates. The four of them occupied an entire table and blocked my path to the corner. When they saw me coming, the roommate with dyed blond hair raised his voice, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, look who it is. You're here. Sit, sit. We were just talking about you." The bespectacled roommate joined in. "Whitney sure thinks highly of herself. We've been waiting on you forever." I ignored them and kept my head down as I tried to walk around. But all four stood at once, trays in hand, and hurried to the corner table before I could reach it. They sat down and blocked me again. The blond-haired one patted the seat beside him. "Sit down. What are you hiding for? We don't bite." I froze, my knuckles white around my tray. "Move." My voice shook. "Move?" The blond-haired one sneered. "Why should we? You own this cafeteria or something? We just want to eat here. Is that a problem?" Bryce sat in the middle and said nothing. He simply watched me with a faint trace of amusement, as though he were enjoying a show. I understood then. They had done this on purpose. They had cornered me, pushed me, and forced me to give Bryce an answer in public. They wanted me to bow my head and admit I was wrong. "I have nothing to do with him." I forced the words through clenched teeth. "Stop calling me." The bespectacled one set down his spoon and leaned forward. "Nothing to do with him? Nothing to do with him, but you've been taking his water for half a month? Nothing to do with him, but he saves you a seat every single day? Nothing to do with him, but he asked the cafeteria ladies to give you extra food?" His voice carried across the cafeteria, and people at the surrounding tables turned to look. The blond-haired one picked up where he left off and tapped his spoon against the edge of his bowl. "I think you've just been stringing our guy Bryce along and playing hard to get. Am I wrong?" The sharp, grating sound scraped at my nerves. "Do you like him or not? If you don't, then say it clearly in front of the whole cafeteria. Don't string him along and waste his time when he could find someone better." "Yeah, just give us a straight answer!" The three of them hurled accusations at me one after another, as if they were interrogating a criminal. More and more eyes turned toward me, and the whispers grew louder. I felt stripped bare in front of everyone, exposed for them to stare at and pick apart. Humiliation surged through me like a tide and tightened around my chest. I didn't want to deal with them anymore. I turned to leave. Someone grabbed my wrist. The grip was light and warm, almost soothing. It was Bryce. He stood and looked at me, his voice gentle. "Don't go. Let's talk this through properly." But the instant his fingers touched my wrist, memories of my first two lives exploded through my mind. The touch and warmth were exactly the same, and fear seized my heart like a snake coiling around it. "Don't touch me!" I screamed and wrenched my hand free with too much force. Soup sloshed out of my tray and spilled across the floor. The entire cafeteria fell silent. Every eye turned toward me, filled with shock, contempt, and the thrill of watching a good show. Bryce froze, his hand still suspended in the air. His face held exactly the right measure of shock and hurt. "I only wanted you to sit down and talk this through properly. I meant you no harm." His voice was low and wounded, as if he were the one who had been frightened. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In everyone's eyes, I was the one throwing a tantrum, the one making a scene, the one too foolish to recognize kindness. My phone buzzed with a message. I opened it. Then I laughed. "Bryce, since you say you meant no harm, why don't you take a look at this?" I turned my phone around and held up the screen for everyone to see.