It was late spring, and the campus was beginning to breathe easier. The cherry trees had stopped shedding petals, and the pressure of midterms had temporarily eased into lazy afternoons and weekend plans. But for Ethan, the days felt tighter, like a coil winding under his skin.
Every choice he made now had echoes—he could feel them radiating forward, rippling through time like stones dropped into water.
He was no longer just surviving the second chance. He was actively shaping it.
The Startup Spark
After the student tech fair, Ethan started visiting the MicroPatch team regularly. Their workspace was a cramped lab corner, cluttered with sensor wires, spare circuit boards, ramen cups, and scribbled whiteboards.
He didn't code, but he knew how to organize chaos.
He helped draft a pitch deck. He edited the language to sound sharper, smarter. He sourced a few articles to support their market claim and even reached out to a local angel investor he remembered from his "previous life."
The team started meeting him with growing respect.
One night, after staying late debugging a signal transmission bug, Mira—the soft-spoken coder of the group—looked at Ethan and said, "Are you sure you're not a time traveler? Because this is moving way too fast."
Ethan just smiled. "I'm just good at sensing what matters."
She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. That's what someone not from the future would say."
Career Fair Deja Vu
The university hosted its annual career fair in early May. Rows of booths, recruiters in matching polos, and hopeful students clutching résumés filled the campus gym.
Last time around, Ethan had attended out of guilt and confusion. He had applied for every random job that paid over $40,000 a year. None of them had led to anything meaningful.
This time, he walked through the aisles like a ghost—watching, listening, occasionally taking notes. He wasn't here to beg for a position. He was mapping the future.
He overheard a recruiter say they were launching a new Southeast Asia expansion. Ethan knew, from memory, that the company would eventually struggle with translation issues and lose millions.
He jotted that down.
Another booth belonged to a small cybersecurity firm. Last time, they were just "some startup." This time, Ethan recognized their logo—they would be acquired for $120 million in four years.
He approached, asked a few pointed questions, and handed them a copy of his résumé with a confident smile.
A Parallel Conversation
Sophia had grown quieter recently—not distant, just… watching him differently.
They walked back from a late-night poetry reading one Thursday. The city lights cast a sleepy glow on the sidewalk.
"You're… becoming someone else," she said softly, breaking the silence.
"Is that bad?"
"No. Just... fast. Like watching a seed turn into a tree overnight."
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just becoming who I was always meant to be."
She looked at him.
"Can I ask you something crazy?"
Ethan chuckled. "You can ask me anything."
"If you really are from the future… why not just win the lottery or buy Bitcoin or something? Why all this… slow burning?"
He hesitated.
"Because shortcuts aren't the point. I didn't come back just to be rich. I came back to do it right this time."
They stood at her apartment door.
"I don't want to mess this up," he added quietly.
"Mess what up?"
"Us."
Sophia's expression shifted—something softened in her eyes.
"We're not broken," she whispered. "You're just learning how to stay."
Facing the Past Again
As finals approached, Ethan faced an unexpected moment of reckoning.
His economics professor, Dr. Stanton, pulled him aside after class.
"I've been watching your work. It's… unusually insightful. Your last paper had references I haven't seen from undergraduates before."
Ethan smiled awkwardly. "I just… read a lot."
Stanton paused. "You remind me of someone. Yourself, actually—but sharper. More purposeful. Did something happen to you?"
Ethan hesitated.
"Let's just say… I stopped wasting time."
The professor nodded slowly. "Well. Whatever changed, don't lose it. Just remember—no one can outrun time. We all have to catch up eventually."
The words lingered longer than expected.
Was Ethan really ahead… or was he running from the pain of his first life?
The Call That Changed It All
It was a Thursday afternoon when he got the call.
His father had suffered a minor heart attack.
Not fatal. Not even critical. But enough to wake ghosts.
In his original timeline, Ethan had ignored early signs. His father had grown sick slowly, and Ethan was too wrapped up in adult chaos to notice.
Now, with trembling hands, he took the next train home.
At the hospital, he found his father smiling weakly, hooked to an IV and teasing the nurses.
"You should see the other guy," his dad joked. "Artery tried to block me. I blocked it back."
Ethan forced a laugh, but his heart clenched.
He sat by the bed, watching the monitor beep steadily.
"I'm sorry," he finally said.
"For what?"
"For missing the signs. For not being there last time."
His dad tilted his head. "What last time?"
Ethan blinked. Right. Wrong timeline.
"I mean… just in general."
His father reached out, squeezed his hand.
"You're here now. That's what counts."
The Weight of Knowing
On the train ride back, Ethan stared out the window, thoughts swirling.
This was the cost of foresight: guilt.
He knew the big events. He could prevent disaster. But the small ones—the slow illnesses, the fading friendships, the things people don't post about—those were harder.
Time didn't just give him an advantage. It made him a custodian of sorrow.
He had to choose who to save. What to change. When to speak and when to stay silent.
And even with all this knowledge… he was still human.
Still scared. Still lonely.
Still hoping.
The Fork in the Road
Back on campus, the MicroPatch team got a call: they were invited to pitch at an accelerator in San Francisco.
Ethan stood with them as they got the news. Mira screamed. Liam high-fived everyone in the room. Jordan cried.
They looked at Ethan, beaming.
"This never would've happened without you."
He nodded. But deep inside, a storm was forming.
This moment was another fork.
If he joined them, his life would accelerate faster than ever. Venture capital, late nights, risk, pressure. Maybe even fame.
But it would also mean losing the slow days—the poetry readings, the long walks with Sophia, the invisible mending of his relationship with his father.
Time was offering him another test:
Speed… or depth?