My mother went door to door trying to clear my name, and the internet turned on her for it—thousands of strangers tearing her apart until she collapsed overnight.
Every blow landed on the last one's bruise, and somewhere in the middle I stopped feeling any of it.
To stop dragging my family down with me, I climbed to the rooftop and stepped off the edge.
I never expected heaven to give me a second chance.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of the contest.
……
Right now I was sitting at my desk, staring at the writing materials Clementine had gotten through her connections at the publishing house.
She'd signed to me with total confidence: just follow this outline, and I could take first place.
"Doug, you working on that material I brought you? I made your favorite braised ribs—come eat something first, then you can get back to it."
"You haven't had a single thing all day."
Clementine signed the words at me, her whole face soft with concern.
That was when Clara pushed the door open.
She handed me a box, her voice warm with concern.
"I heard your shoulder's been bothering you lately. This massager should help you relax a little."
Right. Of course. Exactly the same scene as last time.