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Arjun barely slept that night.
He lay in bed with the ancient flip phone on his pillow, glowing faintly like a warning light in the dark. His brain raced with questions—about the scar that vanished, the strange messages, the countdown timer on the screen, and the final cryptic warning: "Don't trust the girl. She knows more than you."
But which girl?
The only girls he really knew were Tara—his best friend since sixth grade—and the new girl Mira, who had transferred just two weeks ago and barely spoke to anyone.
His eyes kept flicking to the phone, half-expecting it to vibrate again. But it didn't. Just that frozen screen:
NEXT RESET IN: 6 Days, 21 Hours, 34 Minutes
Reset. It sounded like a video game save point. But if this was a game, he had no idea what the rules were.
The next morning, Arjun skipped breakfast and tucked the phone deep into his backpack before heading to school. He walked through the corridors like he was in some parallel reality. Students laughed, gossiped, and raced to class like nothing had changed.
But for Arjun, everything had.
During math class, he kept sneaking glances at the phone, hidden under his desk. It hadn't blinked or buzzed once. Just that countdown. He was beginning to think yesterday had been some weird hallucination—until lunch break.
He and Tara usually ate together under the banyan tree behind the science wing. It was their unspoken spot—far from the noise, close to the Wi-Fi.
She was already there when he arrived, scrolling on her tablet with earbuds in. Her black hoodie hung over one shoulder, and she was scribbling in her sketchbook like usual.
"Took you long enough," she said without looking up.
Arjun sat down, heart racing. Should he tell her? Would she even believe him?
"You won't believe what happened yesterday," he said cautiously.
She glanced at him. "What now? Another detention story? You gonna tell me the computer lab is haunted?"
His mouth opened. Then closed. Maybe not yet.
He pulled out a sandwich, but didn't eat. Instead, he opened his bag slightly, pretending to look for something, and peeked at the phone. Still no messages.
He was about to say something else when a shadow fell over their table.
It was Mira.
Tara looked up, annoyed. Mira was holding a half-opened book and clutching her bag like it was about to explode.
"Hey," Mira said, her voice quiet but clear. "Can I sit?"
Tara raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you talk to people?"
Mira ignored her and turned to Arjun. "I need to talk to you. Alone."
Arjun's heartbeat skipped.
He looked at Tara, who shot him a "What the hell?" look, then back at Mira. "Uh… sure?"
Mira gave Tara a brief nod and walked a few feet away toward the back steps.
Arjun followed. His hands were sweaty. Did she know about the phone? Was she the girl from the warning?
Mira didn't speak until they were out of earshot.
"You found it, didn't you?" she said.
Arjun blinked. "Found what?"
She stared at him with eyes sharper than before. "Don't play dumb. The phone."
His mouth went dry. "How do you—?"
She cut him off. "You're not the first. You won't be the last. But if you're texting the past, you need to stop. Now."
Arjun took a step back. "Okay, hold up. What are you talking about?"
Mira glanced around, lowering her voice. "The phone. The messages. The countdown. I had one, too."
Arjun's stomach turned. "You had one?"
"I used it. I changed something. And it cost me everything," she said, her voice shaky but controlled. "My sister—my real sister—doesn't even exist anymore."
His head spun. "What do you mean 'doesn't exist'?"
Mira pulled out a worn photo from her pocket. Two girls smiling in front of a beach.
"She was two years older. We used to play this dumb game—tag across rooftops. One day, she fell. Cracked her head open. Gone."
She looked away, voice trembling. "I sent a message. Told her not to go up there. Next day—she was fine. But everything else changed. My parents divorced. I moved cities. I ended up here."
"And your sister?"
"She never existed. Not in this version of time."
Arjun stared, cold all over. "That's insane."
Mira met his gaze. "It's real. Every time you send a message, time tries to fix itself. But it glitches. And when it resets—people forget. Except you."
Arjun looked down at his bag. "How do you even know I found one?"
"I got a notification this morning," she said. "The system sent a ping. You activated a Time Device. Same signal, same glitch."
"So what now?" he asked. "Are we in trouble?"
She didn't answer for a moment. Then she leaned in.
"There are others. We call ourselves Timekeepers. People who've used the phones. Most of them stopped. Some didn't."
Arjun raised an eyebrow. "And the ones who didn't?"
Mira's face darkened. "They broke the rules. And when you break the rules, time breaks you back."
Arjun swallowed.
"I can teach you the basics," she said. "How to use it without collapsing your life. But first—you need to decide something."
"What?"
She looked directly into his eyes.
"Do you want to fix something… or change everything?"
The question lingered in the air like static.
Back under the banyan tree, Tara watched them from a distance, her jaw clenched.
When Arjun finally returned, she didn't say anything. She just looked at him, then at his half-open backpack where the old flip phone now buzzed silently.
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