Sit Beside Me

The driver stepped onto the curb, his gloved hand reaching out to pull open the passenger door. He moved with rigid efficiency. He understood the ironclad rule governing this vehicle better than anyone. Kaelen Hawthorne allowed no one to share the rear of his car. The back seat remained a restricted domain, off-limits to business partners, friends, and family alike. The passenger seat upfront served as the sole option for any guest.

Serena shivered in the thick shade of the oak tree. A slight tremor ran through her delicate shoulders as she approached the idling Bentley. The summer heat pressed down on the pavement, yet a chill lingered in her bones from the overwhelming events of the morning. She lifted one foot toward the open passenger side, ready to climb in.

A sharp, distinct click echoed over the engine's purr.

The heavy rear door swung open on its own.

"You can sit at the back."

The deep, unyielding voice froze her in place. The driver stiffened. His hand hovered uselessly over the passenger door handle. He whipped his head around, staring into the dim, air-conditioned interior of the luxury vehicle.

"Sir?" the driver mumbled. His eyes widened, searching the shadows of the back seat.

Kaelen spared the driver no glance. His dark gaze remained pinned on the young woman hesitating on the sidewalk. His tone brooked no argument. "Sit here."

Believing this imposing, striking man to be her cousin Zane, Serena let out a soft breath. She had expected a computer science major to look exhausted and unkempt. The man sitting in the shadows wore an impeccable dark suit, his aura screaming corporate dominance. Still, Diana had arranged this ride. This had to be him. She felt grateful for the invitation, assuming her cousin wanted to bond during the trip.

"Oh. Okay."

She bypassed the bewildered driver and slipped into the plush leather seat with natural grace. The heavy door closed behind her, sealing out the noise and humidity of the city. The rich scent of expensive leather and subtle cologne filled her senses. The interior was cool, offering a sharp contrast to the blistering summer heat outside. The driver, reeling from the shattered rule, climbed behind the wheel. He adjusted his collar with nervous hands, put the car in drive without another word, and merged into the heavy traffic.

"Thank you for picking me up," Serena said. She offered a polite nod, her hands resting in her lap.

Kaelen leaned back against the headrest. The soft leather creaked under the weight of his broad shoulders. He turned his head, his dark eyes tracking the subtle movements of her hands, the curve of her neck, the way her chest rose and fell. He watched her with the intense, unwavering focus of a predator observing a fragile piece of prey.

Under that heavy stare, Serena shifted. The silence in the cabin grew thick. She felt the weight of his gaze burning into her profile. *Is something wrong with Zane? Are my clothes stained?* She cast a quick glance down at her simple white dress, searching for any flaws. She found nothing out of place. *Why does he keep staring at me like that?*

"You're welcome," Kaelen said. His smooth voice broke the quiet tension. He folded his long legs. "You can return the favor by buying me a meal."

Serena blinked. She turned her head, studying his sharp, handsome features. She felt taken aback. *We are supposed to be cousins. He just swung by to pick me up for school. It should not be out of his way.* The sudden demand felt pushy. The transactional attitude grated on her nerves. Did he think they were supposed to be close? She barely knew the man.

She frowned a fraction but suppressed her irritation. "Okay. Let's have lunch together later."

"Are you in the theatrical arts department?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"I'll come find you at noon."

"Okay," she replied. She clipped the word, unwilling to engage further with this strange, forceful relative. She turned her attention away from him, staring out the tinted window to watch the cityscape blur past.

Silence stretched through the spacious cabin again. Kaelen possessed no desire to fill the air with meaningless chatter. He pulled a sleek phone from his suit pocket and opened a message thread. He shot a quick text to the real Zane.

*Kaelen: Your cousin is quite impressive.*

Miles away, inside a crowded coffee shop, Zane stared at his screen. His fingers flew over the keyboard in a frantic blur.

*Zane: Kael, have you picked her up? I haven't seen my cousin since she came back. What does she look like?*

Kaelen shifted his gaze back to Serena. He studied the stubborn set of her lips and the flawless, pale skin illuminated by the passing streetlights.

*Kaelen: Stunning.*

Zane read the single word. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. *Stunning? What the hell does that mean?* The vicious high-society rumors flooded Zane’s mind. Everyone in their circle whispered about the Sterling family hiding her away because her looks were an embarrassment. Kaelen’s sarcastic-sounding brevity seemed to confirm the brutal truth. He must mean she was stunningly ugly. It made perfect sense. Why else would Kaelen, a man of few words, use such a loaded term?

Panic gripped Zane. He pounded out a desperate reply, bordering on begging.

*Zane: Kael, she is my cousin, after all. You must be nice to her! Please don't dump her on the side of the road!*

If Kaelen abandoned her out of disgust, leaving a poor, ugly girl stranded on the pavement, the old man would skin Zane alive upon his return.

Kaelen read the frantic message. He locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him, refusing to explain himself to a fool. Let Zane panic. It was none of his concern.

The sleek Bentley slowed, merging into the chaotic traffic surrounding the Cranston University main gates. The entrance was a massive archway of ancient stone and wrought iron. Banners celebrating the freshman orientation hung from the lampposts, fluttering in the hot breeze. The plaza was a sea of moving bodies. Freshmen dragged heavy luggage while upperclassmen shouted greetings over the din of honking cars.

Serena reached for her bag, turning to the man beside her. "Zane, are you coming with me?"

The driver caught the question through the rearview mirror. He felt a sudden spike of dread. He knew his boss harbored a deep-seated hatred for crowded spaces. The noisy, suffocating atmosphere of the campus entrance was Kaelen’s worst nightmare. He never stepped out into a mob.

"Ms. Sterling," the driver rushed to explain, keeping his tone polite. "He hates entering through the main gate. The noise is too much for—"

"Alright," Kaelen cut in. He unbuckled his seatbelt. "I'll come with you."

The driver choked on his own words. His mouth hung open in shock.

Driven by an uncharacteristic whim, Kaelen pushed his door open. He stepped out onto the sun-baked pavement, adjusting his suit jacket.

Serena climbed out on her side, clutching her bag. The conflicting statements between the driver and her supposed cousin left her puzzled. *What a peculiar man,* she thought, brushing the confusion aside.

They walked toward the grand, wrought-iron gates together. The sheer physical presence of the tall, impeccably dressed man beside her acted like a magnet. Within seconds, the chaotic chatter of the student body faltered. A wave of frantic whispers ignited through the milling crowd.

"Ah! It's Kaelen!"

"Kaelen is actually at the main gate. Oh my god."

"Is it really him? Am I hallucinating? Who is that next to him?"

"Damn, the girl next to him is gorgeous. Is she his girlfriend? No way. You're kidding me. I'm heartbroken."

"It's impossible. Kaelen has never had a girlfriend. Aren't there rumors he swings for the other team? This girl should be related to him, right?"

Piercing stares darted in their direction from every angle. Fingers pointed. Awe-struck students pulled out their phones. Camera shutters clicked in rapid succession, capturing candid pictures of the unmatched pair.

Serena heard the name echo from dozens of lips. *Kaelen.*

She stopped dead in her tracks. The summer heat pressed down on her shoulders as a jarring realization clicked into place. She whipped around, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. She stared up into his dark, amused eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tight. "Aren't you Zane?"

Kaelen lazily tucked his hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He gazed down at her flushed, indignant face. She stood a full head shorter than him, the top of her head resting right at the level of his chest. A faint hint of amusement touched the corner of his mouth.

"No, I'm not," he admitted without a shred of guilt.

Serena’s eyes widened. Outrage spiked through her chest. "You're not Zane?! So, who are you!? What did they just call you? Kaelen?"

He stood there, unbothered by the growing audience watching their exchange.

"Did I tell you I was Zane?" he asked, his tone smooth and challenging.

"Why didn't you say anything when I called you Zane?!" Her voice rose, laced with pure disbelief. She had climbed into a stranger’s car. She had thanked him. She had agreed to buy him lunch to settle a fabricated debt.

"I thought it would be better for me to play along," Kaelen replied. The brazen justification rolled off his tongue effortlessly.

Serena’s jaw dropped. The sheer shamelessness of the man stunned her. She had never encountered someone with such arrogant audacity.

"So where is the real Zane?" she demanded, clutching the strap of her bag tighter. "Why did you come to pick me up instead of him?"

Kaelen gave a careless shrug of his broad shoulders. "Who knows? He might be dead for all I know."

Meanwhile, the real Zane sprinted down the sidewalk miles away, rushing toward the campus, oblivious to the curse thrown his way.

Flabbergasted by the unapologetic arrogance radiating from this stranger, Serena let out a breath of sheer frustration. She refused to waste another second on his nonsense. She spun on her heel, her white dress swishing around her calves. She marched through the wrought-iron gates with aggressive strides, leaving him behind.

Kaelen watched her go. A warm breeze lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing a flash of fair skin. The smirk on his lips deepened. Without rushing, he stepped forward, trailing calmly a few paces behind her.

Serena ignored the heavy, measured footsteps following her. She focused on the winding paths of the Cranston campus. Every brick, every oak tree, every shadowed archway dragged dark, suffocating memories to the surface of her mind.

She navigated toward the administration building to handle her enrollment paperwork. The scent of blooming hydrangeas triggered a rush of agonizing recollections. Four years of collegiate torment played out in her mind like a cracked film reel.

In her past life, she had blamed herself. She had believed her endless suffering was a result of her own incompetence. She thought she simply did not work hard enough, that she lacked the grace and skill required to survive the elite academic environment. She believed Marcella had earned every victory fairly, coasting on genuine charm and intellect.

Now, the truth shone with painful clarity. Her failures were not born from a lack of effort. Marcella had orchestrated every single disaster. The reborn Marcella had anticipated her moves with pure malice, mapped out her trajectory, and stolen every opportunity meant for Serena step by step. Marcella had poisoned the minds of professors, hijacked her hard-earned internships, and turned the student body against her through calculated whispers. Marcella had known the future and used that timeline as a weapon to suffocate Serena’s potential.

Intense, burning hostility boiled in Serena's veins. The rage threatened to consume her right there on the sunlit path. Her nails dug into the soft palms of her hands. She wanted to tear down everything her fake sister had built.

A sharp buzz vibrated against her hip.

Serena slowed her pace. She pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced at the glowing screen.

An encrypted notification blinked near the top bar. The complex coding challenge she had initiated on the dark web just days prior under an untraceable alias had been accepted. The digital showdown was locked in for the upcoming weekend. The stakes were high, involving vast sums of cryptocurrency and access to restricted corporate servers.

The notification acted like a splash of ice water over her burning anger. A wave of cold, calculating confidence washed over her. The tension in her shoulders melted away.

*It is fine. I have a chance to start over.*

This time, she possessed the knowledge of the future. She harbored unparalleled digital skills honed through a lifetime of desperation. She locked the screen, her dark eyes gleaming with resolve. Marcella enjoyed competition. Marcella liked playing god with people's lives. Serena swore to crush her before the fake sister even understood the rules of the game.

*Watch out, Marcella Voss. You won't know what hit you.*

She quickened her pace, leaving the shadows of the outdoor paths. She stepped into the administration building and finalized her enrollment procedures with mechanical efficiency, ignoring Kaelen, who lingered near the entrance like a silent shadow.

A faculty assistant directed Serena down a polished corridor toward her first class. She pushed open the heavy double doors of the massive, echoing lecture hall.

The lecture hall was a cavernous amphitheater designed to hold hundreds of students. Polished oak desks curved in wide arcs facing down toward a massive chalkboard and a digital projector screen. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, the low hum of chatter morphed into a wildfire of frantic whispers.

Dozens of heads snapped in her direction. Classmates pointed at her, leaning across desks, their eyes wide with recognition.

"Is that her? The freshman from the gate?"

"It's her. She looks exactly like the girl in the picture."

"Who else could it be? She looks even prettier in person. I thought the candid photo on the forum was edited!"

"Unbelievable. Kaelen Hawthorne actually walked her in. They look too compatible."

Serena stood at the front of the room, letting the intense scrutiny wash over her. She scanned the tiered rows of seats. The faces staring back at her sparked instant, bitter recognition.

These were not strangers. They were the very same clique of Marcella’s sycophantic cronies who had made her past life a living hell. In her previous timeline, Serena had harbored a naive desire to fit in. She had bent over backward, seeking their approval. She had offered them meticulous study notes, handled their group project burdens late into the night, and smiled through their thinly veiled insults. She remembered the specific faces staring at her now. The girl in the pink cardigan, sitting three rows down, had stolen her thesis draft and presented it as her own work. The boy in the varsity jacket, currently whispering to his neighbor, had spilled scalding coffee on her laptop right before finals, laughing it off as a clumsy accident.

They had exploited her kindness without a shred of guilt, mocking her behind her back as cheap, disposable labor that could be paid off with a fake smile and empty promises of friendship. They had drained her energy and tossed her aside the moment she served no purpose.

Stripped of any foolish desire to play nice, Serena swept her cold gaze across the room. She noted the cluster of empty seats near the front row. Marcella was currently absent. The grand entrance had not yet occurred.

A few girls near the middle aisle nudged each other, offering tentative, curious smiles, waiting to see if the girl linked to Kaelen Hawthorne would approach them to introduce herself.

Serena did not offer a single word. She did not return their smiles.

She turned her back on the whispering crowd, walked straight up the side stairs, and headed for the desolate back row of the lecture hall. She slid into a shadowed seat far away from the cliques. She dropped her bag on the floor, pulled out her phone, and tapped open a mobile game. She leaned back, tapping the screen, ignoring the gossiping room around her.