The first time I saw him, he was standing across the street, staring directly at me.
I didn't know him.
But the way he looked at me made me feel like he had been searching for me for years.
I was about to cross the road when he suddenly shouted,
“DON'T!”
I stopped.
A second later, a car rushed past the crossing.
I stared at him in shock.
He ran toward me, breathing heavily.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah… but how did you know?”
He didn't answer.
He just looked at me with the strangest expression.
Almost like he was relieved to see me alive.
The next morning, I saw him again.
This time, he was sitting outside my classroom.
When I walked past, he immediately stood up.
“Don't use the staircase today.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Just don't.”
I rolled my eyes and walked away.
But during lunch, a loud crash came from the staircase.
A section of the railing had broken.
My stomach dropped.
He had known.
From that day onward, it continued.
He warned me not to take a certain bus.
It got into an accident.
He told me not to go to a particular café.
A gas leak caused the place to close that evening.
He even told me not to stand beneath a particular tree during a storm.
A branch fell there minutes later.
Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore.
I grabbed his wrist.
“Who are you?”
He looked at my hand, then at me.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
He was silent for several seconds.
Then he said,
“My name is Aiden.”
“And?”
His eyes became distant.
“And I've met you before.”
I laughed nervously.
“No, you haven't.”
“Yes, I have.”
He pulled a small photograph from his wallet.
My smile disappeared.
It was me.
Standing beside him.
We looked older.
Much older.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
A date that hadn't happened yet.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
Aiden's voice became quiet.
“A memory.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It doesn't have to.”
He looked at me.
“Not yet.”
I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but before I could, he whispered,
“I came back because you died.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“You died three years from now.”
He swallowed.
“And I couldn't accept it.”
He explained that somehow, he had been given one chance to return to the past.
He had promised himself he would change everything.
Every warning.
Every accident.
Every time he appeared beside me.
It was all part of his plan.
To keep me alive.
But there was one thing he hadn't expected.
Me falling in love with him.
One evening, I found him sitting alone on a bench.
I sat beside him.
“You know,” I whispered, “you don't have to keep saving me.”
He looked at me.
“I do.”
“Why?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Because the first time, I watched you die while holding your hand.”
My heart broke.
“And I loved you,” he continued. “I still do.”
I reached for his hand.
“Then maybe this time, we don't have to lose each other.”
For the first time, he smiled.
But the next morning, he wasn't there.
I searched everywhere.
Then I found the photograph lying on my desk.
The picture had changed.
There we were again.
But this time, we were older.
Happy.
Alive.
And on the back, there was a new message:
Day 1 — This time, she survives.
I looked out the window.
Aiden was standing across the street.
He smiled.
And this time, I was the one who ran toward him.
