April 21, 2016 — 8:12 AM
Arin Vale had spent ten years wishing he could return to this day.
Now that it had arrived, he wished it would disappear.
He stood outside the school gates, staring at the familiar building. Students rushed past him, laughing, arguing, and complaining about homework. Everything looked ordinary.
That was the frightening part.
Ten years ago, this ordinary morning had destroyed his friendship with Kyle Alexander.
Today, Arin intended to change that.
"Oi! Are you planning to grow roots there?"
Kyle appeared beside him, carrying his schoolbag over one shoulder.
Arin blinked. "What?"
"You've been staring at the gate for almost a minute." Kyle grinned. "If you're nervous about the academic competition, don't worry. I'll only be disappointed in you if you get every question wrong."
"Your encouragement is truly inspiring."
"I know. It's a talent."
Arin laughed despite himself.
For a brief moment, the heavy feeling in his chest disappeared.
This was Kyle. His best friend. The idiot who shared his lunch, covered for him when he forgot homework, and believed in him even when Arin couldn't believe in himself.
In the first timeline, Kyle had done all those things.
And Arin had repaid him with silence.
Not this time.
"Come on," Kyle said, tugging his sleeve. "We're going to be late."
Arin followed him inside.
He had no idea how many chances the universe intended to give him.
But he wouldn't waste this one.
1. The Paper That Started Everything
By the second period, the school was buzzing with rumours.
The examination papers for the upcoming academic competition had apparently gone missing from the teachers' staff room.
Arin stopped writing.
His pen hovered above his notebook.
It's happening.
He remembered this moment with terrible clarity.
In his first life, the missing papers had been discovered on the same morning. By lunchtime, someone had accused Kyle of taking them. A teacher had found a suspicious note, and several students claimed they had seen Kyle near the staff room.
Arin had known something important.
The previous afternoon, he'd seen another student leaving that corridor carrying a folder.
He hadn't known what was inside it.
He hadn't asked questions.
And when Kyle needed him to speak, Arin had convinced himself that staying quiet was safer.
That single decision had poisoned their friendship.
"Arin?"
Kyle's voice brought him back to the classroom.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Did you go near the staff room yesterday?"
Kyle frowned. "No. Why?"
"Just asking."
"That's a terrible way to start a conversation."
Before Arin could answer, their teacher entered.
"Everyone, listen carefully. Some examination papers have gone missing. Until we understand what happened, nobody is to spread rumours or make accusations."
A murmur passed through the room.
Then a boy near the window spoke.
"I heard Kyle was there yesterday."
Arin's fingers tightened around his pen.
Another student joined in. "Yeah, I heard that too."
Kyle's expression changed.
"What? I wasn't even in that corridor."
"Then why are people saying they saw you?"
"How should I know?"
The teacher struck the desk with a book.
"Enough! Nobody is being accused of anything at this moment."
The room fell quiet, but the damage had already begun.
Arin looked at Kyle.
His friend was trying to act annoyed rather than worried. Arin recognised the expression. Kyle always made jokes when he felt cornered.
Arin also recognised what would happen if he did nothing.
He stood up.
"Sir, I need to tell you something."
Every head turned.
Kyle stared at him.
Arin's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
This was the moment he had replayed in his mind for ten years.
The moment when he could either become the person he had been—or finally become someone different.
"I saw someone near the staff room yesterday," Arin continued. "It wasn't Kyle."
The teacher's expression sharpened.
"Are you certain, Arin?"
Arin swallowed.
"I saw someone carrying a folder. I didn't see what was inside it, and I don't know whether that person took anything. But I think you should ask them about it before blaming Kyle."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the teacher asked, "Who was it?"
Arin opened his mouth.
And stopped.
He remembered a uniform, a folder, footsteps disappearing around the corner.
But the face—
The face was a blur.
In his first life, he'd eventually remembered the student's identity. But memories were not recordings. Ten years had passed, and even the events he remembered most vividly had begun to feel like old photographs left in the sun.
"I can't identify the person with certainty," Arin admitted. "I'm sorry. But I can tell you where I saw them."
The teacher studied him.
"All right. We'll discuss this after class."
Arin sat down slowly.
His hands were shaking.
He hadn't solved the mystery.
He hadn't rescued Kyle completely.
But he had spoken.
For the first time in either of his lives, he had chosen not to let fear make his decision for him.
Beside him, Kyle whispered, "Since when do you volunteer for trouble?"
Arin stared at his notebook.
"Since today."
2. The Friend Who Didn't Say Thank You
During lunch, Kyle dragged Arin to the quiet end of the courtyard.
"Explain."
Arin looked up from his sandwich. "Explain what?"
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"That innocent face. It doesn't suit you."
Arin almost smiled.
Almost.
Kyle folded his arms. "You stood up in front of the entire class and defended me. You even risked getting questioned by a teacher. Why?"
"Because you didn't do it."
"How do you know?"
Arin hesitated.
Because I've already watched you suffer for something you didn't do.
Because I remember the day you stopped trusting me.
Because I have spent ten years wishing I had been brave enough to say three simple words: I believe him.
Instead, he said, "Because you're my best friend."
Kyle went quiet.
For once, he didn't have a clever reply.
Then he looked away, scratching the back of his neck.
"Well, obviously. You'd be completely helpless without me."
"There he is."
"And your handwriting is terrible."
"Moment ruined."
"You're welcome."
They laughed, but Arin noticed something beneath Kyle's teasing.
Relief.
Not because Arin had proved anything, but because someone had stood beside him when the rumours began.
Arin had forgotten how powerful that could be.
Sometimes friendship wasn't about grand promises or dramatic sacrifices.
Sometimes it was simply refusing to let someone face a room full of accusations alone.
"Hey," Kyle said, becoming serious again. "You know you don't have to get involved in every problem, right?"
Arin looked at him.
"I know."
"Good. I don't want you getting into trouble because of me."
You have no idea how much trouble I caused you by staying out of it.
Arin lowered his eyes.
"I won't make that mistake again."
Kyle tilted his head. "What mistake?"
"Nothing."
Kyle studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced.
Then he bumped Arin's shoulder.
"Come on. We have a competition to prepare for. If we're going to lose, we should at least lose spectacularly."
"We're not losing."
"Wow. Who are you, and what have you done with Arin Vale?"
Arin smiled.
For now, that answer could wait.
3. The Person Arin Forgot
After the final bell, Arin was called to the staff room.
The teacher sat behind a desk, with a notebook open in front of him.
"Thank you for speaking up this morning," he said. "However, we still need to establish what happened."
"I understand, sir."
"Think carefully. Was there anything distinctive about the person you saw?"
Arin closed his eyes briefly.
A folder.
A dark schoolbag.
A silver ring?
No. Perhaps that was from another memory.
He forced himself to slow down.
The corridor had been almost empty. He had been returning a library book. Someone had come out of the staff-room corridor just as Arin turned the corner.
He remembered the person's hand gripping the folder.
And a small red mark on the wrist.
"I remember a red mark," Arin said. "Near the person's wrist. It might have been ink, or a thread bracelet. I'm not sure."
The teacher wrote it down.
"Anything else?"
"No, sir. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise for telling the truth. But remember, an uncertain memory is not proof. We must investigate fairly."
Arin nodded.
That was another lesson his first life had taught him too late.
Wanting to protect someone didn't give him the right to accuse someone else without evidence.
He left the staff room with more questions than answers.
And as he crossed the corridor, he noticed a student standing near the staircase.
A familiar face.
A schoolbag hanging from one shoulder.
A small red thread tied around the wrist.
The student glanced at Arin.
Then quickly looked away.
Arin stopped walking.
Wait.
He knew that face.
He had seen it countless times in his old memories, but never considered it important.
The student had been part of their class, part of their everyday life—a person who had blended into the background so completely that Arin had barely noticed them.
Yet now, as the student hurried down the stairs, one thought settled in Arin's mind.
What if I remembered the event correctly… but remembered the wrong person?
4. Mira's Warning
Arin found Mira Solen outside the school library.
She was sitting on a bench, writing in the small notebook she carried everywhere.
When she noticed him, she closed it.
Too quickly.
"You're becoming quite popular," she said.
"That's one word for it."
"I heard about your little speech."
"It wasn't a speech."
"You stood up in class and challenged a rumour in front of everyone. That's practically a speech for someone who normally tries to become invisible."
Arin leaned against the wall.
"Do you think I did the right thing?"
Mira considered the question.
"I think you did the right thing by saying what you actually saw."
"And the rest?"
"The rest depends on what you do next."
Arin sighed. "You always talk like there's a hidden meaning behind everything."
"Maybe you should listen more carefully."
She stood, slipping the notebook into her bag.
"Arin, can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"Why are you so afraid of April 21?"
His expression froze.
The courtyard seemed to grow quieter.
"What?"
"You've checked the date on your phone at least six times today. You looked terrified before school. And when the rumours started, you reacted as though you already knew exactly what was going to happen."
Mira watched him closely.
"Most people don't look at a Tuesday like it's a disaster they've been waiting years to prevent."
Arin's mouth went dry.
He had been careful.
He had tried to be careful.
Apparently, he hadn't been careful enough.
"I just didn't want Kyle to get blamed for something he didn't do."
"That's a reasonable explanation."
"Then why do you sound unconvinced?"
"Because you answered too quickly."
Mira stepped past him, then stopped.
"One more thing. If you really want to change what happens next, don't assume that knowing the past means you understand everyone involved."
She walked away before he could ask what she meant.
Arin watched her disappear around the corner.
For the second time that day, he felt as though someone else was reading a story whose ending he hadn't been told.
5. The Message
That evening, Arin sat at his desk with his books open.
He had promised Kyle that he would work seriously for the academic competition. So far, he had spent twenty minutes staring at the same page.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Kyle appeared.
Kyle: Bro, did you finish the questions?
Arin: Almost.
Kyle: That means no.
Arin: It means almost.
Kyle: Send proof.
Arin laughed and took a picture of his half-completed notebook.
A few seconds later, another message arrived.
Kyle: Not bad. Tomorrow, we finish the rest. And Arin?
Arin: Yeah?
Kyle: Thanks for today. I didn't say it properly.
Arin stared at the screen.
Then he typed:
Arin: You don't have to thank me for being your friend.
He paused before sending it.
In his first life, he had believed friendship would always be there. He had treated loyalty like something that could never run out.
Now he understood that trust was not permanent simply because two people had once been close.
He sent the message.
Kyle replied with a single thumbs-up, followed by a terrible sticker of a dancing cat.
Arin shook his head.
Some things, at least, hadn't changed.
He set the phone aside and returned to his work.
Then another notification appeared.
This one came from an unknown number.
Unknown: You shouldn't have spoken today.
Arin sat perfectly still.
A second message arrived.
Unknown: You have no idea what you've changed.
His fingers went cold.
He typed, Who is this?
The message failed to send.
He tried again.
Nothing.
The number had disappeared from the conversation list.
Arin checked his phone settings. No new contact. No saved number. No trace of the messages remained.
Except—
On his desk, beside his notebook, lay the broken pocket watch he had brought back from his first life.
Its hands had been frozen for as long as he could remember.
Now the second hand moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then it stopped at 11:17.
Arin picked it up with trembling fingers.
From somewhere deep inside the watch came a faint clicking sound.
And then, impossibly, a whisper.
"Wrong person."
Arin dropped the watch.
Outside his window, the streetlights flickered.
For a moment, his reflection in the glass looked older—tired eyes, a face shaped by ten years of regret.
Then it was gone.
Arin stood alone in his bedroom, staring at the watch.
He had returned to the past to save his best friend.
But what if the past wasn't the only thing that had returned with him?
And what if, by saving Kyle, he had awakened something that was never supposed to remember him?