The Rewritten Love: A Second Beginning

Chapter 15

Each class stretched out to 45 minutes. When the bell finally signaled the end of the lesson, Madelyn, almost with a sense of doomed acceptance, walked to the back of the room. She quietly righted Forrest’s knocked-over desk and gathered the scattered books from the floor, tidying them neatly into his drawer. Her actions elicited a flurry of astonished whispers from her classmates.

“No way! Madelyn, who’s always acting high and mighty, is actually picking up books for Forrest? Did she hit her head or something?”

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing. Madelyn, who couldn’t be bothered to speak, is now serving her arch-nemesis Forrest? Holy cow, I must be hallucinating!”

Someone had discreetly snapped a photo of Madelyn’s surprising act of humility and anonymously uploaded it to the school forum.

Madelyn ignored the buzz around her, focusing on straightening up Forrest’s desk. Despite everything, she was just too good-natured to hold Forrest’s temper against him.

Meanwhile, in the grimy alley behind the school, Timothy was debating about which bar to hit that night. Adrian was engrossed in his phone when a headline suddenly popped up.

[Shocker of the Century! Madelyn actually…]

down, books cradled in her arms. “Holy

Timothy doubted his hearing for a

crouched on the floor, her skirt pooling around her. The camera captured Madelyn’s smooth, elegant profile perfectly. Light streamed in from the window, illuminating her, her eyelashes cast in shadow

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’

food. Now alone in the classroom, she quietly savored the caramelized pork that

hour passed and the other students gradually returned from their lunch. Madelyn was still struggling with the final math problem. The noise of chatter and footfalls grew louder as it approached the

my God, it’s Forrest. He isn’t coming back to

had it with that lowlife girl.

my dad his life over a plot of land.

are big fishes in Ventropolis, getting on their bad side always spells trouble. Don’t

Madelyn’s back. Many in their class had parents whose businesses had suffered at the hands of the Jent family, and those dealings were always shrouded

swept across the desk, scattering her books to the floor. She looked up into Forrest’s face,

calmly, “Can I

my stuff? Looking for trouble?” His sneer was cruel, his gaze

I picked up his books,

accidentally taken his seat and he had gotten upset. She thought cleaning up for him might serve as a sort of quiet apology. She had never imagined that simply tidying his things would provoke

class and even the neighboring one had gathered to witness the

her pen. She spoke with icy coolness. “You’ve just messed with my books, too. We’re even. Besides,

Madelyn’s desk. “What’s your game, Madelyn? Who