A high school feud blossoms into an unexpected romance between the "bad boy" Han and the academic Stella, leading to marriage and a child. But their seemingly perfect life unravels when a devastating accident exposes long-hidden secrets, forcing Stella to confront the truth about Han and fight for her daughter's future. Will she uncover the dark truths lurking beneath the surface, or will the weight of betrayal shatter her world forever?

Sandy, a woman with a strong personality, finds herself inexplicably transmigrated into the body of Erella, the famously kind-hearted and long-suffering heroine of the Cinderella fairytale. But this isn't the Cinderella story she knows—Erella is a 10-year-old with a mysterious heart condition, and the story seems to have taken a dark, unpredictable turn. Facing daily torment from her wicked stepmother and stepsisters, Sandy, now Erella, makes a defiant choice: she'd rather be a villainess than a pushover. What happens when a powerful, vengeful soul takes over the body of a sweet, innocent heroine? Will she find her own twisted version of a 'happily ever after,' or will her newfound powers lead her down a path far darker than any fairytale villain?

The bell rings. Everyone leaves. I stay. Classroom 304 is silent, golden light slicing across Ms. Lee’s desk, catching the curve of her neck, the pen in her hand. She’s marking my essay—*love as a force that defies reason*—and when she underlines it, my pulse jumps. “You believe this?” she asks. I do. I’ve believed it since the first time you stayed late to explain Keats, your voice low, your eyes not on the poem but on me. Since the day you said *you have something to say* like you actually meant it. Now the air is tight. The hallway clock ticks. One choice: play safe, keep pretending this is about literature. Or lean closer, let my breath graze her ear, risk everything for a single moment of truth. Or cut through the lie—ask what this really is. She warned me. One misstep and I’m expelled. She’s ruined. But when she looks up, her lips part—just once—and I know she feels it too. The lights go out. Only the hall glows. Choose: walk away, or cross the line we both know can’t be uncrossed.