Transcending Time: The Genius's Confession

I swung my paralyzed legs into the overflowing bathtub, letting the icy water rise over my chin to finally set Easton free. Back in prep school, I fell for him the second I saw him.

I spent years playing the relentless stagefive clinger. Shredding the pathetic love letters other girls slipped into his locker.

Kicking over the homemade lunches Stella desperately tried to feed him. Then the old gymnasium roof caved in.

I shoved him out of the path of the crashing steel beams, and the wreckage took my legs instead. My parents weaponized that blood debt.

They backed him into a corner, forcing a wedding ring onto his finger. The wheelchair trapped me in this luxurious cage.

I used my bitter sarcasm and smashed expensive porcelain to drag him down to hell with me. Stella’s harsh accusations were right.

He was supposed to take that fullride Ivy League scholarship and change the damn world. Instead, he was chained to my side, drowning in a lifetime of suffocating guilt.

I closed my eyes beneath the freezing surface, letting the black water fill my lungs. Then, my eyes snapped open. My lungs gasped for dry air.

The piercing fluorescent lights of my old high school hallway blinded me.

Chapter 1 I smashed a scalding cup of black coffee right at Stella’s feet, shattering the polite facade of our first meeting. She didn't even flinch.

She just stared at me and told me to let Easton go. Her tone was flat.

Maybe it was the way she said "let him go." It ripped right through my carefully constructed mask, exposing the ugly, irrational monster underneath.

The adrenaline spiked fast, but it lingered in my blood like poison. By the time I forced my breathing back to normal and returned to the penthouse, Easton was already done cooking.

The second the elevator doors parted, the heavy scent of browned butter and rosemary hit me. He was searing a ribeye steak exactly how I liked it—mediumrare. "Where did you go?

Are you hungry?" He walked over and gripped the handles of my wheelchair. He crouched down, his long fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

I grabbed his wrist, my nails digging into his skin. "What is it?" A soft smile touched his lips. "Is my wife tired?" "When did it happen?" I stared him down. Easton froze.

The smile vanished. "I asked you when you saw Stella." "Two days ago at the grocery store. It was just…" I slapped his hand away. I struck him so hard my own palm stung. "I knew it!

You two are slipping right back into your old habits!" I pushed against his chest. "You’re disgusted by me.

You’re finding your way out!" Easton slammed both hands onto the armrests of my wheelchair, his large frame swallowing me in his shadow.

The rigid line of his jaw and his heavily bloodshot eyes betrayed how dangerously close he was to snapping. "Sloane, stop doing this to yourself.

There is absolutely nothing between us." The words didn't register. White noise exploded in my skull, deafening and chaotic.

It was like a dozen voices screaming over each other, blurring into a steady roar. My breaths came shorter and faster.

It felt like a massive boulder was crushing my chest, suffocating me. I lashed out, blindly striking at his shoulders. "Get out!

Get the hell away from me!" Easton gripped my flailing wrists, his hold crushing down so hard it felt like my bones would splinter.

Then, he forcefully jerked me forward, trapping me in his arms.

The scent of stale tobacco and pure male heat enveloped me as he locked me against his chest, refusing to let go. "Sloane," his voice was rough against my hair. "I am never leaving you." "I don't need your damn pity!" I ripped one hand free and cracked it hard across his face.

The sharp sound echoed in the room. His head snapped to the side, a red mark already surfacing on his cheek.

I shoved him backward, spun my wheelchair around, and locked myself in the bedroom. I ignored the heavy pounding on the door and the desperate sound of my name.

My chest heaved uncontrollably, and a cold sweat broke out across my palms, yet I had no idea what triggered it. My throat tightened as if a hand was squeezing it shut.

I swept my arm across the vanity, sending heavy perfume bottles and my makeup mirror hurtling into the wall. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

In the harsh, artificial light, the jagged shards reflected my ruined, fractured face. By the time the adrenaline drained out of me, the room was a complete disaster zone.

Night had fallen. The only illumination was a sliver of pale moonlight slicing through the blinds. I was losing my mind. The realization was as cold as ice.

I was clinically, irreversibly broken. I unbolted the door. Easton was sitting right on the other side.

His knees were drawn up to his chest, his back slumped against the corridor wall. The click of the lock jolted him.

He scrambled to his feet instantly, his hands hovering over me, scanning my face, my arms, searching for fresh wounds.

Only when he was sure I wasn't bleeding did he pull me back into him. "Sloane, I know what it's like inside your head right now." His voice cracked. "But you have to believe me.

I love you." The overhead hallway lights burned my eyes. I slowly lifted my arms and wrapped them around his waist, burying one hand into his thick hair.

In the shadows, I tilted my head. I looked deep into his eyes—eyes that used to be so fierce and wild—and saw nothing left but dead, burntout ash. A sharp ache twisted in my chest.

It hit me then just how long it had been since I actually looked at him. I cupped his face in both hands, tracing the sharp lines of his features.

His eyes were redrimmed and exhausted, yet the way he looked down at me was sickeningly tender. The small, forced smile on his lips physically hurt to look at. Stella was right.

He was supposed to be out there, hunting down his ambitions. Building an empire.

Instead, he was decaying in this airconditioned cage, suffocated by me. "I'm sorry." The whisper tore its way up my throat.

My chest convulsed as the floodgates broke, choking off my oxygen as I sobbed against his shirt.

Easton dragged my chin up and crushed his lips over mine, swallowing the rest of my apologies. Chapter 2 He brushed his lips against my wet cheeks, swallowing my tears.

His voice vibrated against my ear. "Sloane, do not apologize. God, Sloane, I love you." The ticking time bomb in my head was always seconds away from detonation.

These violent, shattering episodes were the only reality Easton and I shared anymore.

In a rare moment of absolute, sterile clarity, I dialed my family's estate lawyer and finalized my will. Signing that document was like dragging a massive boulder off my chest.

Easton thought I was getting better. He looked so relieved. His relief only twisted the knife deeper into my gut. On a perfectly mundane Tuesday, I told him I wanted a ribeye steak.

Easton looked at me, a dark intensity swimming in his eyes.

His long fingers slowly undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt, exposing the sharp lines of his collarbone. "Be a good girl and wait for me," he murmured.

He tried to lift me into my wheelchair to bring me along, but I dug my fingers into the silk bedsheets, refusing to leave this bedroom.

He stood by the door, swearing he would be back in no time.

I forced the corners of my mouth up and pressed my lips against his jaw. "Drive safe." I watched through the window as he waved and climbed into his car.

The second his taillights disappeared down the driveway, my lungs seized. My fists hammered against my numb, lifeless thighs. The impacts sent zero pain to my brain.

Just the sickening thud of dead weight. Then, absolute silence. A ringing, empty vacuum.

I dragged my upper body across the hardwood floor, inch by inch, pulling myself toward the master bathroom. I hoisted my dead weight over the porcelain edge and fell into the tub.

Every muscle in my arms screamed. I lay against the cold ceramic, sucking in harsh gulps of air. A hollow laugh ripped out of my throat, bouncing off the marble tiles.

I reached up and cranked the heavy chrome dial. Warm water cascaded from the showerhead, blasting my face. The rush of water triggered a memory. Prep school. A heavy downpour.

No umbrella. Easton had offered me his jacket and a grounded voice that wrecked all my defenses. I repaid that kindness by chaining him to a crippled girl for a decade.

It was time to return him to the world. I let my body slip under the surface. Sinking straight to the bottom. Freedom, for both of us.

My fingers were wrapped around an expensive, custommade leather lunchbox. Jeering voices and lockers slamming echoed around me.

The teenage boy standing in front of me lacked the heavy exhaustion I was used to. His face was flushed with humiliated anger. I looked down at my legs. I was standing.

My own two feet were firmly planted on the linoleum floor. The realization knocked the breath out of me. I tried to step toward him, but I completely lost my balance.

I crashed hard onto the floor. The latches popped, sending hot gravy and prime rib spilling all over his designer sneakers.

The surrounding hallway erupted into a chorus of piercing, mocking laughter. "What the hell are you doing, Sloane?" Stella shoved her way through the crowd.

Her eyes snapped to the ruined food on the floor, the meal she had clearly prepared for him. Her hands clenched into fists. "Are you serious right now?

When are you going to stop throwing these psychotic tantrums?" I reached down and dug my nails into my thigh. A sharp, stinging pain shot up my nerves. Pain. Real, electric pain.

Hot tears spilled over my eyelashes. The mocking laughter in the hallway died instantly. "Do not pull the crying card, Sloane. It is not going to work," Stella snapped.

I tuned out the whispering crowd. I planted my palms on the floor and pushed myself up to a standing position. My face was completely numb.

Without a word, I kicked the saucecovered leather box straight into the nearest trash can.

With the entire student body watching, I marched straight to Easton's desk in the classroom.

I grabbed the stack of scented pink envelopes I used to guard so jealously, ripped them into shreds, and dumped them into the garbage.

Then, I yanked my locker open and swept every single expensive watch and designer jacket I had bought for him into the charity donation bin.

I turned back, locking eyes with Stella and Easton. I gave them a stiff, formal nod. "My mistake.

I am done." By the end of AP Physics, the reality of my rebirth finally anchored in my brain.

The adrenaline crash hit me hard, and silent tears leaked out of my eyes for the entire fortyfive minutes. Mr.

Harrison peered at me through his thick, Cokebottle glasses. "Sloane, why are you crying?

Is thermodynamics really that traumatic?" I stared down at my exam paper, bleeding in red ink with a singledigit score. I choked back a sob. Chapter 3 "Mr.

Harrison, physics is literally impossible." "Then you'd better drop this class and switch to humanities." The entire classroom erupted into laughter. Mr.

Harrison slammed the thick stack of graded exams onto the podium, the deafening crack echoing through the room and silencing the laughter instantly.

Easton had just finished writing out a complex equation on the whiteboard, breaking the tense silence. Mr.

Harrison turned to look at Easton, his eyes gleaming with absolute fanaticism. "Your AP Physics scores could literally guarantee you early admission into MIT." "Sloane, if you're struggling, maybe you should ask Easton for tutoring." I risked a quick glance at the quiet, brooding boy.

I immediately dropped my gaze to my desk. After school, I bolted out the front doors.

I was still getting used to the phantom sensation of my legs actually working, so my steps were a little clumsy.

Stella slammed on the brakes of her beatup Chevy right in front of me, the tires screaming against the asphalt as she blocked my path. "Sloane, do not push your luck with this little act." I stopped and stared at her. "Excuse me?" "Easton doesn't even like you.

Do you have any idea how suffocating you are?" "I know." I gripped the straps of my backpack, a heavy knot forming in my stomach. "I ruined him." Stella froze.

The entire speech she had prepared seemed to die in her throat.

I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, looking her dead in the eye. "I hope you two are happy." Her brows snapped together. "What?" "I know you're in love with him.

Go get him, Stella." The blood drained from her face before rushing back in a furious, humiliated flush. "What—what kind of garbage are you spouting?

You're the one who's obsessed—" I didn't wait for her to finish. I turned my back and jogged into the cool night air. "Sloane, stop talking crazy!" she yelled after me.

When Monday morning rolled around, I didn't hesitate.

I dumped every single Advanced Calculus textbook into my locker, slammed it shut, and walked straight into the Arts and History wing.

I stood at the front of my old homeroom, my designer bag slung over my shoulder, offering a small smile to the classmates I had terrorized for the past two years. "I know graduation is a long way off, but I hope you all get into your dream schools." I reached into my bag and pulled out a thick stack of VIP access passes to an exclusive downtown club. "I know I've been an absolute nightmare to deal with.

This is my apology. Thanks for putting up with me." I passed the heavy, embossed cards out to everyone.

When I walked past Easton's desk, I slipped a contact card for a highly coveted Ivy League recommendation letter right onto his open notebook. "I'm sorry for suffocating you for so long.

I really hope I didn't drag you down." Easton's head jerked up.

His dark eyes darted to mine for a fraction of a second before dropping back to his desk. "You didn't." Even though I knew he was always wired to be the stoic, patient one, the guilt hit me like a physical blow.

Over the fifteen years of our toxic, suffocating marriage, I had taken everything from him.

My paralyzed legs hadn't just trapped me—they had been the chains that bound him to the floor. But this time, the clock had reset. I had the power to fix this absolute trainwreck.

I could give him his life back. The next time someone blocked my path, it was Easton.

Standing next to a noisy streetcorner hot dog stand, I took a massive bite of a mustardslathered dog.

He stood right beside me like a silent, brooding shadow, taking the icecold Coke from the vendor for me. "What do you want?" Easton pressed the freezing condensation of the Coke cup into my hand.

His face was a mask of cold indifference as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a thick stack of papers covered in complex formulas. "These are the core cracking strategies for the final SAT questions." Despite his cold expression, I could see the careful, guarded hesitation flickering in his dark eyes.

One hand gripped the heavy stack of papers. His other hand was whiteknuckling the strap of his backpack.

The dim yellow glow of the streetlamp cast sharp shadows over his sharp jawline. "Why are you giving this to me?" I finally swallowed the heavy bite.

Before he could even open his mouth, I forced my spine straight, took a deliberate step into his personal space, and flashed a razorsharp smirk. "Don't tell me you're actually falling for me?" A dark, furious flush crept up his neck and instantly stained his cheeks.

He blinked rapidly, his jaw clenching as he violently jerked his gaze away from mine. A second later, the embarrassment morphed into pure defensive anger.

His brows snapped together in a harsh, severe line.

Chapter 4 He slammed the thick stack of papers against my chest, his voice dropping low. "I just wanted to thank you for the recommendation card." He tightened his grip on his backpack strap. "And Sloane, our priority right now should be our SATs." In all the years we lived together, I rarely saw Easton pushed to the edge like this.

It was as if my endless, psychotic tantrums had slowly ground down all his youthful, sharp edges. Maybe he had gone crazy, too.

But while I could scream my pain and madness at the top of my lungs, he had to swallow his alive in the suffocating silence, just to protect my pathetic ego.

A sharp ache twisted in my chest, but I forced a bright, plastic smile. "Relax, I was just messing with you.

Don't take it so seriously." The expression completely froze on his face.

He stared at me, a flash of pure bewilderment in his dark eyes. "Sloane, sometimes you are incredibly cruel." This time, I was the one who choked on my words.

I had personally snapped the wings of a hawk meant to own the sky, locking him in a cage. He was right. I was a monster.

When I finally looked up, Easton had already turned his back, disappearing into the moonlight.

The streetlamp stretched his shadow on the concrete as he walked further and further away. A sudden, intense urge to cry hit me.

I used my family's trust fund to heavily pressure the school board. They immediately locked down that dilapidated gymnasium and announced its complete demolition and reconstruction