I adjusted the heavy glasses on my nose, their weight grounding me in the reality that this wasn’t a dream—I had lived again.
Without a word, the tutor turned and called Felicity over, saying he needed to guide her on her thesis.
In my previous life, I had thought Felicity was distant from him. They rarely interacted about research, and their relationship seemed purely professional. I never suspected there was more beneath the surface.
But now I knew the truth: Felicity wasn’t just another student—she was his illegitimate daughter, secretly raised in his hometown.
When I returned to the dormitory, my roommate Nancy was already aware of the situation. While nibbling on some buffalo wings, she casually said, “Felicity is no match for you. What kind of academic work can a third-year graduate student even produce? You’ve been working toward your master’s and doctorate for eight years and have published countless papers.”
Her dining partner, Athena, chimed in, “Your supervisor dotes on you. You’re his only doctoral student, after all. He probably just wants to avoid any gossip by making this competition look fair. Don’t worry—when you win, remember to treat us to dinner!”