Chapter 1
The neon lights flickered like distant stars in the night sky as Ethan Blackwood stared out of his apartment window. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it, the flare of the flame illuminating his chiseled features for a brief moment. As he exhaled slowly, ribbons of smoke curled around his face, creating a haunting image against the dimly lit room. Suddenly, the lights flickered on, and Isolde Fairchild stepped inside, her weariness evident. She paused when she saw him by the window. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” she asked, her voice a mix of worry and tenderness. “I told you to quit smoking, it’s bad for your health,” she chided lightly as she moved closer, but Ethan's words interrupted her. “Let’s just get a divorce,” he said with a heavy heart. A long silence ensued, thick with unspoken regrets. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, unsteady but determined. “I’ve thought it through.” Isolde nodded, her downcast eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Bam!” The sound of the official stamp echoed as it marked the end of their marriage. Outside, snow began falling—softly at first, like delicate petals dancing from the heavens, blanketing the world around them. The snowflakes settled on the branches of trees, on the pavement, and on their shoulders as they stood at the Bureau of Civil Affairs. Ethan cradled the divorce papers in his trembling hand, his thoughts racing. “What if…” he began but didn’t finish. The college years he could never get back danced in his mind—if only she had chosen a different path, things might have turned out differently. “I’m sorry,” Isolde’s voice was hoarse, her head hanging low, her long lashes shimmering with tiny droplets of sadness. Ethan offered a sad smile, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair. “You know, with your parents gone now, you’re going to have to learn how to cook for yourself.” “Don’t stay up late,” he continued. “And please, don’t work yourself to the bone,” he added, his voice thick with emotion. Tears streamed down Isolde's cheeks as she watched Ethan walk away. The once-bright starlet now stood sobbing into the swirling snow, her beauty marred by grief. As Ethan tightened his coat against the chill, the sound of her sobs unexpectedly froze him in place. He spun around, one last time, as a horn blared. “Isolde! Get out of the way!” he shouted, tossing the divorce papers aside as he sprinted toward her. With tear-stained cheeks, Isolde lifted her gaze just in time to see Ethan racing towards her, his arms open wide, ready to protect her. “Thud!” The truck hit its mark, and crimson splattered onto the pure white snow like a dark bloom. ... Later that evening, the news broke: “Truck driver Sir Edwin Grey, under the influence, has fled the scene after fatally colliding with a recently divorced couple. His whereabouts are currently unknown.” A photograph of Ethan and Isolde holding each other tightly filled the screen, a stark reminder of love lost. ... Ethan slowly emerged from a process of endless darkness, confusion swirling in his mind as he heard the noisy chatter of voices around him, reminiscent of a bustling market. “Food’s ready!” someone shouted. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” another voice chimed in. A gentle nudge on his arm brought Ethan back to the moment. He blinked and found himself staring at a little boy, complete with a bright smile and cheeks dusted with teenage acne. “Hey, Ethan! Let’s go eat!” the boy exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious. Ethan felt lost, yet instinctively murmured, “I’m not hungry. You go ahead.” The boy shrugged and wandered off, leaving Ethan to survey his surroundings. He was in a sparsely populated high school classroom, the desks arranged in neat rows, while textbooks were piled nearby. A motivational banner hung above the blackboard reading, “Study Hard, Rise Daily.” He ran his fingers over the childlike drawings scrawled across the desk, memories flickering in the corners of his mind. Each object was familiar yet distant, like a dream just out of reach.
Chapter 2
Ethan Blackwood lowered his head and picked up a math textbook, flipping to the first page. “Class Three, Ethan Blackwood.” His eyes widened in shock as he accidentally grabbed a nearby mirror. Inside, he saw a young boy, both familiar yet strangely foreign. Unable to resist, he touched the scruffy sideburns framing his jaw. Father Young looked younger! Filled with indescribable shock, Ethan dashed out of the classroom and sprinted into the hall. Memories buried deep surged to the surface as he stood on the playground, wide-eyed, soaking in the entirety of the campus. The sky was a bright blue, the school building slightly worn, and the loudspeakers atop the flagpole played a midday song while laughter echoed from the vending area at the school gate. In that instant, it hit him—he had truly returned to his middle school days! Ethan Blackwood exhaled deeply—this was a second chance granted by fate. As he walked down the little lane, joy flooded his heart, but it took a familiar voice to pull him back. “Good afternoon, students and teachers! This is Campus Broadcaster Isolde Fairchild.” “The next song is a request from Class Six’s Ethan Blackwood, called ‘Afterward’…” Though both he and Isolde Fairchild were once students at the same middle school, their real bond formed when they both gained admission to the same university. Back then, Isolde was in the honors class while he struggled in Class Three. In junior high, it was as if a light switched on for him; his grades skyrocketed, and with decent performance on the entrance exams, he barely managed to get into the same university as her. Their friendship blossomed into a romance, and after graduation, they tied the knot. Yet, the promise that began in school uniforms and blossomed in bridal gowns seemed far from being fulfilled. In the years that followed, Isolde’s career became increasingly hectic. She returned home less frequently, staying out later each time. Eventually, Ethan had no choice but to file for divorce. Standing in the middle of the road, his hand instinctively reached for his pocket, only to remember that the Ethan in this timeline didn't smoke. “Later on, I finally learned how to let go.” “Too bad you had already vanished from Fairfax.” “I ultimately understood through tears.” “Some people, once missed, are gone forever.” As the music played on, Ethan remained rooted to the spot, lost in thought. Isolde, it can't end like this. Wishing you smooth sailing ahead. A sudden clarity washed over Ethan, and he raised his foot to walk towards the school building. “Before I leave, I want to share a line that means a lot to me. I also want to send it to a familiar stranger.” Isolde’s voice, tinged with sadness, resonated as each word flowed from her lips. “I hope to meet someone like you—like the fresh winds in the mountains, like the warm light of ancient cities. From dawn to dusk, from the valleys to the highlands. As long as you’re best after everything, it’s alright.” Just as Ethan was about to step inside the school, he paused, smiling softly. So this was her favorite phrase after all, something he had not understood back in those days. Shaking his head, he lifted his foot to ascend the steps, and suddenly froze. It hit him: this was a passage from a collection of short stories published in 2013. But it was only 2011 now. Recommendations were counted based on the following reads. Please, dear universe, don’t leave me hanging. After each day’s final chapter, a stunning image was shared. The quality was enticing, but viewers should delight in the new chapters first before catching their breath. Please follow along!!! Please vote and save!!! (The End)
Chapter 3
“Let F1 and F2 represent the left and right foci of the ellipse defined by the equation \( x^2 + \frac{y^2}{b^2} = 1 \). The line \( l \) passing through F1 intersects the ellipse at points A and B…”
“Hey, pay attention, everyone! This type of problem is sure to show up on the algebra test, and it’s a major question. The first part is a total gimme—it’s just waiting for your six points,” the plump, bespectacled math teacher droned on.
“First things first, what should you all do? You should…”
As the afternoon math lesson continued, Ethan Blackwood found his mind drifting elsewhere.
Isolde Fairchild had been reborn!
Ethan rested his chin on his hand, replaying the words from earlier over and over in his head, slowly piecing together the reality of his situation.
What was he going to do?
Memories of Isolde flooded back quickly, and finally, a smile broke across Ethan's face.
Now that he knew how things would end, he wouldn’t let them repeat.
His first order of business since being reborn? Avoid Isolde Fairchild at all costs.
Life would be so much better if things could be like the first time they met; he didn’t want any of the wonderful moments to remain trapped in the past, suspended in that youthful era.
“Hey, Ethan! Ethan!” His classmate nudged him, pulling him back from his thoughts.
Ethan turned to see the little boy who had called him for lunch earlier—Lord Hugo Nightingale.
Lord Hugo glanced cautiously at the classroom doors, then whispered, “When the teacher comes in, it’s best for you to take a nap.”
With that, Lord Hugo expertly pulled several books from under his desk and stacked them on top of his already precariously high stack. He then rested his elbows on the desk and closed his eyes.
Ethan chuckled at the familiarity of the scene; he remembered saying that same thing often back in the day.
Up front, the math teacher noticed the lethargic figures of Lord Hugo and Ethan slumped in their seats, and with a deep sigh, adjusted his glasses.
As the two bottom-ranking students in class, Ethan and Lord Hugo had practically resigned to being overlooked by every teacher. Their grades crawled like a tortoise in a slow race, and any hint of effort might jinx their status as the lowest performers.
As the class neared its end, the teacher lifted his spectacles and said, “You’re already sophomores. There’s little more for me to say, other than I hope you won’t regret wasting your precious time during these formative years.”
With an almost pointed glance at Ethan and Lord Hugo in the back, he stepped out of the classroom.
Ethan caught the teacher's eye and realized that message was meant directly for him and Lord Hugo.
Despite being considered a poor student, he always managed to keep the peace and remain respectful during classes, thus maintaining decent relationships with the teachers. Perhaps that’s why the math teacher felt compelled to give them a warning.
Thinking about it, Ethan pulled his algebra text from his bag and began to review the material from the start.
Although it had been a while since he had engaged with the concepts, going over them once again sparked the fading memories back to life, bit by bit.
“Hey, seriously, Ethan, you’re studying while I’m trying to nap?” Lord Hugo mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he stirred from his slumber.
“I can’t help it. I need to study too; those midterms are just around the corner, and I can’t finish last again,” he replied earnestly.
“Last?” Ethan raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Lord Hugo flashed a smug grin. “Last time, I was second to last, and my mom bought me a new phone. If I end up dead last this time, I’ll be in big trouble. Anyway, I can’t chat with you; I need to study!”
Ethan smacked his lips, surprised that studying could be this competitive.
Chapter 4
The rest of the afternoon was filled with self-study time at Wulfen Academy, and Ethan Blackwood found himself absorbed in his math textbook, skipping even the short breaks. This unyielding dedication momentarily made Lord Hugo Nightingale, who had planned to catch a little nap during the free time, hesitate. He gritted his teeth and continued to stare at the textbook, which appeared as an inscrutable language to him. "Hey, that Ethan Blackwood and Lord Nightingale have been sleeping in class every day," a few teachers remarked casually in the Sophomore Year Office. The math teacher brought up the two students' performances during class today. Master William Sterling, the head of Class Three and their English teacher, sighed upon hearing this. He had addressed the two students about their shortcomings before; they understood but had made no efforts to change. As Lord Nightingale often lamented, "Not sleeping in class, not using the restroom during breaks, and not eating at lunchtime, only to go home without learning anything." Master Sterling felt a pang of concern for these struggling students. He had tried various methods to help them, but nothing seemed to have a noticeable effect. “Knock, knock!” The sound of a gentle rap at the door brought Master Sterling back to the moment. He glanced toward the entrance and saw Isolde Fairchild, a diligent student known for her commitment. A black-framed glasses-wearing teacher smiled warmly at Isolde. "Isolde Fairchild, what brings you here?" Isolde’s voice was steady as she replied, “Mr. Rosewood, I’d like to request a transfer to another class.” “What?!” Mr. Rosewood exclaimed in surprise, standing up abruptly. The other teachers around him exchanged incredulous glances at Isolde, the reliable student from Class One. “Why do you want to switch classes? Is someone bothering you?” Mr. Rosewood asked, stepping beside Isolde, trying to calm his shock. Isolde shook her head. “No... it’s just that the pressure in Class One has been quite overwhelming lately, and I've been getting headaches. I thought maybe a change of environment would help.” Mr. Rosewood reached out, gently touching Isolde’s forehead, worried. “Headaches are serious; you should see the nurse.” Isolde quickly waved her hands, insisting, “No, it’s not that serious. I just feel a bit stressed in Class One.” In her heart, however, Isolde felt a flutter of uncertainty. Her headache wasn’t real; her motive for wanting to switch classes was simple – she wanted to get closer to Ethan Blackwood whom she barely knew. After realizing her path had taken her through a time warp to this new life, her first instinct had been to reclaim Ethan. Now, having received the divorce papers and watching him walk away, her heart felt like it had been hollowed out. To hell with work and contracts; all she wanted was for him to come back. Mr. Rosewood looked at Isolde’s serious expression and hesitated for a moment. “Isolde, why don’t you go back for now, and I’ll think about it?” Isolde nodded and left the office. Once she was gone, Mr. Rosewood dialed Isolde’s father to discuss the situation. “Hello, Isolde’s dad? This is Mr. Rosewood, her homeroom teacher…” …… Three self-study sessions passed, gradually revitalizing Ethan's sluggish brain after his long, tiring day. Lord Nightingale, after enduring two grueling sessions, finally succumbed, becoming a sleepy fish on his desk. As a day student, Ethan packed his bag, ready to head home after the final bell chimed. “Ethan Blackwood.” The voice from behind him froze him instantly in place as he stepped outside the classroom. He hesitated before turning around, and there was Isolde Fairchild, standing in her blue and white school uniform, two loose strands of hair framing her smooth forehead. Bright sunlight illuminated her face as she tilted her head slightly, giving Ethan a warm smile that lit up her eyes. "Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, her soft voice reminiscent of a gentle breeze. Ethan's heart began to race uncontrollably at her presence.
Chapter 5
Ethan Blackwood stood in front of Isolde Fairchild, feeling a strange mix of awkwardness and nostalgia. The girl he remembered from college, her face flushed with embarrassment, seemed to drift in and out of focus with the confident young woman before him, leaving him momentarily puzzled. “What’re you doing here?” Ethan started, a bit thrown off as he finally found words. “He doesn’t know you, right?” “Oh, that’s fine! He will get to know me soon enough. Just remember this name, okay? I'm Isolde Fairchild, like the famous fairy tale!” Isolde chimed in with a teasing smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Ethan nodded slowly, then turned to leave, feeling his heart finally steady. He just wanted to get away, but fate had other plans. As he exited the Student Union building, he exhaled deeply. His home was only a short bike ride from Serentis University, and usually, he'd just cycle back, letting the wind calm his mind. But now, he stood by the bike rack, overwhelmed by a row of identical bicycles. Which one was his? “The repetition is absurd,” he muttered to himself as he fumbled through his backpack, fishing for the key to his bike lock. “Hey, wasn’t his bike black?” Isolde's voice pulled him from his frantic search. “Uh, I think it had a front basket?” he replied absently, his focus still on the sea of bikes. As he strained to recall the exact details, he spotted Isolde too was looking equally lost, her brow knitted in determination. In less than a heartbeat, he pivoted, heading towards the school gate. “Ethan! Ethan Blackwood!” Isolde called after him, and he quickened his pace involuntarily. She raced to keep up, her cheeks flushed, showing signs of annoyance that he wasn’t paying her any attention. “Why didn’t you wait for him?” she questioned breathlessly. “Oh? Did he call for me?” Ethan said, feigning confusion. “I didn’t hear anything.” Isolde seemed unfazed by Ethan’s lack of awareness. “What’s wrong with him? I saw him leave the bike rack just a minute ago,” she wondered aloud. “He got his bike stolen; that’s why he’s walking home,” Ethan explained, unable to contain the roll of his eyes at the sheer absurdity of Isolde's excitement at this news. “Really? We should walk back together then!” Isolde exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. Ethan shot her a skeptical look. Did she really think Sir Edwin Grey didn’t know the state of his own bike? “No way; he prefers being alone,” Ethan said firmly, about to walk away. “What? Does he like someone? Is that it?” Isolde teased, her laughter light and infectious. After eight years of knowing her, Ethan was still surprised by how her personality had shifted from ice-cold to whimsically charming. Back when he was smitten by her, Isolde had been infinitely harder to read. Ignoring her, Ethan finally stepped out of the campus grounds, making his way toward home. But Isolde wasn’t deterred. With a pout, she fell into step behind him. “Seriously, is he living in that direction?” Ethan couldn’t help but pause, turning around to question Isolde. “Yup! What a coincidence, right? Ha!” she chuckled, clearly delighted. Ethan shrugged and snorted dismissively, continuing to walk. Did she even know where her own home was? It wasn’t even close to where they were headed. As they approached the house, Isolde finally came to a halt, eyeing Ethan as he walked through the front door. “Mom, I’m back!” Ethan announced cheerfully once inside, calling into the cozy space of his manor. Agatha Larkspur emerged from the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour. “Lady Blackwood! Welcome home! Dinner will be ready soon!” she replied warmly, her face lighting up. Ethan grinned, “I just had this strong craving for blueberry pie!” Agatha laughed lightly, “That boy always eats what I cook! He’s like my little taste tester.” Ethan chuckled quietly as he tossed his backpack on the nearest chair, feeling at ease as he escaped into the comforting ambiance of home.
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