Chapter 12: When Everything Feels Off

When Ren opened his eyes, the world was gone. No trees, no streets—just a vast, endless space that felt neither solid nor empty, like a dream unraveling into mist. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he didn’t fall. Time and space dissolved into a weightless void, leaving only the soft ticking of his wristwatch.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound was maddening—too calm, too steady for a place that didn’t exist. Ren turned his hand over, staring at the glowing watch face. The second hand twitched, but it never reached twelve. It hovered endlessly on the edge, trapped in a loop, a heartbeat just shy of finishing.

“Great,” Ren muttered, rubbing his eyes. “So I’m stuck in limbo now?”

He wasn’t sure if he had died, broken the timeline beyond repair, or simply ceased to matter. Maybe this was the price of playing with time—getting lost in the spaces between seconds, forgotten by the past and irrelevant to the future.

He tried to remember how he’d gotten here—untangling the anchor, pressing the final switch with Kai—but the memory slipped through his fingers like water. Was this the result? The reset? The end of everything?

And then, out of nowhere, a voice pierced the silence.

“Ren?”

Ren spun around, his heart skipping a beat.

There she was.

Hana Nishimura stood just a few steps away, watching him with the same soft gaze he remembered from a thousand different moments—and yet something about her felt new, untouched by any of those tangled timelines. She wore the same school uniform, her hair tied in a loose ponytail that caught the light from somewhere that didn’t exist.

He blinked, stunned. “Hana? What... what are you doing here?”

Hana smiled faintly, though sadness lingered at the corners of her lips. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Ren took a cautious step toward her, still trying to process what he was seeing. She wasn’t supposed to be here. None of this was supposed to happen. He had locked the timeline. He had erased himself from every moment he’d tried to fix.

“How...” Ren’s voice faltered. “How do you remember me?”

Hana’s smile grew softer, as if she knew a secret he didn’t. “I don’t. Not all of it, anyway. Just... little pieces. Flashes of things that don’t fit.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Like I’ve met you in a dream I can’t quite remember.”

Ren swallowed hard, emotions swirling too fast to grasp. This wasn’t part of the plan. He had come to terms with erasing those moments, with letting Hana go. But now she stood here, in the middle of a place that shouldn’t exist, pulling on threads he thought he had cut loose.

“How is this possible?” Ren whispered.

Hana shrugged, her expression tinged with melancholy. “Maybe some things are too stubborn to disappear, no matter how hard you try.”

The air around them shimmered, the edges of the world rippling like a reflection disturbed by the smallest breath. For a moment, everything felt fragile, as if this encounter was balanced on the edge of a knife. Ren’s chest tightened with the unbearable weight of the moment.

“I never wanted to lose you,” Ren admitted quietly.

Hana’s gaze softened. “You didn’t lose me. You just tried too hard to hold on.”

Her words cut through him, gentle and sharp all at once. He thought back to every rewind, every jump—how he had chased perfection, thinking he could sculpt the perfect version of his life with Hana at the center of it. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe the perfect moment wasn’t something you could create—it was something you had to let happen on its own.

“I thought I was making things better,” Ren said, his voice barely audible.

Hana gave a small, sad smile. “Sometimes, things aren’t meant to be better. They’re just meant to be.”

The world flickered again, the air humming with tension. Ren could feel it now—the tether straining, pulling them both toward the inevitable end of whatever this was. Time was slipping, folding in on itself. There wasn’t much longer.

“Hana...” Ren whispered, desperation clawing at his chest. “If I don’t see you again...”

“You will,” she said softly, cutting him off before he could finish.

Ren stared at her, stunned. “How do you know?”

Hana smiled—a real smile, bright and full of something Ren couldn’t quite name. “Because some things find their way back, no matter how many times we lose them.”

The shimmering space around them wavered, folding like paper caught in a gust of wind. Ren could feel himself being pulled away, the moment slipping through his fingers. His heart screamed to hold on, but his hands stayed at his sides. This time, he knew better. Some things were meant to end, even if they hurt.

“Hana...” he whispered, his voice breaking.

She gave him one last look—a look that was both a goodbye and a promise—and then she was gone.

The fall hit Ren like a wave crashing onto the shore. He tumbled through layers of time, each one colder and sharper than the last. The ticking of his watch grew louder, faster, until it drowned out everything else.

And then—silence.

Ren jolted awake, gasping for air. His heart hammered against his ribs as he blinked, disoriented, taking in the familiar sights of his room. The faint hum of the city outside drifted through the window, grounding him in the present.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. The world was steady again—solid, unchanging. The watch on his wrist ticked forward in perfect rhythm, ordinary and unremarkable.

For a moment, Ren just sat there, letting the weight of everything settle around him. He thought of Hana—of the strange, fleeting encounter in that impossible place. Was it real? A glitch? A memory that had slipped through the cracks?

Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe the answer didn’t change what he had learned.

Some things weren’t meant to be rewritten. They were meant to be lived, flaws and all.

Ren swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, pulling on his jacket. The watch on his wrist felt heavier than before, but not in a bad way. It was a reminder—not of failure, but of choice.

He couldn’t change the past. But he could live the present.

And that was enough.

The sun was just starting to rise as Ren stepped outside, the cool morning air brushing against his skin. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of uncertainty lift from his shoulders. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t chasing perfection.

He was simply moving forward.

As Ren walked into the morning light, the steady ticking of his watch against his wrist, he knew that no matter what came next, he wouldn’t look back.