Days passed peacefully until her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
"Go to the bookstore on Baker Street. Tomorrow. 6 PM."
Riya's heart skipped a beat.
She tried to ignore it.
But the next evening, she found herself standing outside a small, old bookstore.
Inside, the air smelled of aged paper and forgotten stories.
A man at the counter looked at her and smiled. "You're late."
"I… what?"
"Your book is waiting."
He handed her a dusty, leather-bound book.
Her name was written on the cover.
Riya Sharma.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
The first page described her childhood.
The next—her teenage years.
Every detail was accurate.
Even the message she received.
She flipped further.
And then she froze.
The next page described tomorrow.