After returning to her seat from Tommy’s side, Sarah was still mulling over the exchange when Emily, touching her forehead to check for any sign of fever, said teasingly, “No fever, huh?”

Sarah looked puzzled. “?”

Emily leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper as she mentioned the name, “I thought you couldn’t stand Jack. What were you doing asking him for help with your questions?”

“Well, I could have asked you,” Sarah replied with genuine sincerity while gathering her belongings. “Help me with the last question on problem 20?”

Emily sighed dramatically. “Oh, come on. It's so intimidating having geniuses like you guys around!”

Before heading off to college, for convenience, Sarah had lived in a neighborhood close to her high school with her parents. Later, they moved to a suburban house, renting out their previous home to new students. Familiar streets sparked memories as Sarah walked home.

As the door opened, the aroma of home-cooked meals filled the air, nearly bringing tears to her eyes. 

Then, Jennifer, still in her pajamas, emerged from the bedroom with a welcoming smile. “Welcome back, darling.”

Oh, so it was the housekeeper in the kitchen, but that didn't stop Sarah from relishing in her mother’s embrace.

Jennifer, ever the elegant woman, effortlessly concealed her graying hair with dye, indulged in shopping sprees and exhibitions, remaining the epitome of a refined, affluent lady. But as time had flown backward nearly a decade, Sarah could still notice subtle differences in her mother's youthful energy.

Post-dinner, Sarah luxuriated in her mother's company, snuggling close and murmuring, “I've missed you, so much.”

Jennifer stroked her daughter’s hair, a fond smile playing on her lips. “You're like a little girl again.”

“Well, maybe I am,” Sarah retorted playfully.

Jennifer’s house was filled with an understated elegance, each room gently perfumed. As Sarah nestled into her childhood bed, the familiar scent was soothing, enabling her to finally relax and reflect on recent events.

Everything seemed surreal, but if this wasn't a dream, Sarah reasoned she needed to figure out her next steps. If her life was to begin anew from this instant, she could mend any missed opportunities or regrets. Yet, as she revisited her past choices, she felt no regret; each decision had led her to who she became. Perhaps there was no need for dramatic changes—except, that is, she had missed out on teenage romance.

While not exactly a regret, it was a bittersweet realization. Diving into academia for years, crossing the threshold of adulthood in college, she'd watched peers dating high school sweethearts. Maybe she was too focused back then.

This sense of missed opportunity was something Jack could remedy, Sarah mused. Another question loomed: would she ever return to her former life? But that was beyond her control. She resolved to adapt, one step at a time.

With clarity came newfound happiness. It appeared that her current missions were twofold: ace the entrance exams and woo Jack.

The agency where Sarah worked had flexible hours unlike traditional firms, allowing leisurely starts around eleven. Such habits, however, spelled only one outcome for a high school senior: tardiness.

As the first lesson drew to a close, a sharp knock interrupted. The language teacher peered outside, spotting the math representative at the door, cheerfully announcing “Here” as Sarah faced the curious gaze of the entire class.

“Were you on sick leave?” inquired her language teacher.

“No...” Sarah responded awkwardly.

“Well, you know, precision timing.” The teacher, around forty and known for her straightforwardness, laughed lightly. “Why not wait till the end of the period?”

Usually ready with a quip, Sarah was uncharacteristically at a loss. Finally, she managed, “I'm sorry, teacher. It won't happen again.”

With a wave, the teacher ushered her to her seat, granting her relief.

Moments before the bell rang, Sarah slumped over her desk, fatigue taking its toll. Jolted upright when a finger tapped her workspace, she looked up to find her teacher—the language one—still present.

Outside, Sarah braced herself for a reprimand.

“I know you're a good student, Sarah,” her teacher’s voice was unexpectedly gentle. “Consistently second in class, right behind Jack. Do you know where you falter compared to his scores?”

“Language arts,” Sarah conceded.

“Exactly. You have a solid foundation, usually performing well, but your essays need attention.”

Sarah absorbed her teacher’s advice. “Essays can seem like a space for creativity, but they carry countless structural constraints. You like writing narratives, don’t you? Narratives are risky—one wrong turn, and it could hurt your score.”

“I understand, but I struggle with persuasive essays. They feel so rigid.”

Her teacher chuckled, “True, they're less exciting—stories can be fun, arguments not so much. But we aim for more than creativity; exams matter too. You could practice both styles for balance.”

Finding merit in the advice, Sarah agreed, “I will, teacher.”

Jack, passing by, was swiftly intercepted by Sarah grabbing his sleeve. “Can I ask Jack for help if needed?”

“With his skills, certainly.” Her teacher nodded towards a bewildered Jack. “Help Sarah with those argumentative essays when you have time.”

Jack followed the hand holding his, meeting her sincere, smiling gaze. Her cheeks puffed adorably as she bit her lip, drawing a lump in his throat. Jack found himself agreeing, “Sure.”