Chapter 13: A Call from the Wrong Timeline

Ren walked through the busy streets of the city, feeling more like a ghost than a person. Cars rumbled past, conversations buzzed around him, and the occasional bicycle bell chimed—but it all felt distant, as if the world was moving just a little out of sync with him. The watch on his wrist ticked normally, yet Ren felt every second press down on him, each tick a reminder of what couldn’t be undone.

He had chosen to let go. No more rewinds. No more perfect moments. Just time, moving forward in its usual, clumsy way. But that didn’t mean he knew how to live with it yet.

It wasn’t until he found himself outside the train station that Ren realized where his feet had taken him. The station buzzed with life—commuters filing in and out, announcements droning over the loudspeakers, and trains whooshing through the platforms. Ren hesitated at the entrance, unsure if he should go in.

Something tugged at him—a quiet instinct telling him this was where he needed to be.

With a deep breath, Ren slipped through the glass doors and made his way to the platform. The smell of hot food from nearby vending stalls mixed with the scent of metal and oil. He glanced up at the schedule board, half-expecting it to flicker or glitch, but it stayed perfectly still. No errors. No missing times.

For the first time in a while, everything felt... ordinary.

Ren leaned against a pillar, watching people rush past him. They were all heading somewhere—toward jobs, appointments, dates, or places that mattered. For a brief moment, Ren wondered what it would be like to hop on a train without a destination in mind. Just ride until the end of the line, no plans, no responsibilities. Just movement. Forward.

The thought was tempting. But Ren knew better than to run away again. The past few days had taught him that running in circles only brought him back to the same place—just a little more lost than before.

He heard the train’s whistle before he saw it—a high-pitched sound that cut through the hum of the platform. The sleek bullet train slid into the station with a soft hiss of air, its doors gliding open with a quiet efficiency.

Ren stepped back, letting the crowd flow around him. He wasn’t planning to board—just waiting, watching, like an outsider looking in on a life that wasn’t his.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.

Hana Nishimura.

She stood a few meters away, waiting patiently by the platform edge. She wore a light jacket over her school uniform, her headphones slung casually around her neck. Her eyes were focused on the train, unaware of Ren standing just a few steps behind her.

Ren’s heart raced. He hadn’t expected to see her here—not like this, not now. It felt like a mistake, a glitch that had slipped through the cracks of his locked timeline. But as he stood there, watching her, it hit him:

This wasn’t a mistake. This was life.

Hana shifted her weight, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Ren thought about calling out to her, but the words stuck in his throat. What could he say? He had spent so long trying to be the perfect version of himself—the version she might notice, might like—but that version didn’t exist anymore.

It was just him now. No rewinds. No second chances. Just Ren.

He took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Hana.”

She turned, her expression curious but polite. Her gaze landed on him, and for a moment, there was no flicker of recognition—no memory of the countless timelines where they had crossed paths.

But then, something shifted in her eyes. A spark. A flicker. A sense of familiarity, like a song you’ve forgotten but remember the moment it plays again.

“Do I know you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Ren gave a small, nervous smile. “Not yet. But maybe you will.”

Hana blinked, taken slightly off-guard by his response. But instead of brushing him off, she smiled—a small, genuine smile that lit up her face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

Ren’s heart soared, but he kept his voice steady. “Ren Takahashi.”

Hana nodded, as if testing the name on her tongue. “I’m Hana.”

“I know,” Ren replied, then quickly corrected himself. “I mean... I’ve seen you around school.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes warm with amusement. “You’re not great at this, are you?”

Ren laughed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. “Not even a little.”

The train doors slid open with a chime, and Hana glanced at the entrance before turning back to him. “I’m headed to Shibuya. You?”

Ren hesitated for only a second. “Same.”

Hana smiled. “Cool. Want to sit together?”

Ren’s heart felt like it might burst from his chest. “Yeah,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. “I’d like that.”

They boarded the train together, finding seats by the window. As the train began to move, Ren let himself relax, the hum of the engine a soothing rhythm beneath his feet. He didn’t know where this moment would lead—whether it would be the start of something, or just a fleeting encounter.

But that was okay.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Ren didn’t need to know. He was done trying to control the outcome.

He was just... here. Present. And that was enough.

Hana pulled out her headphones and glanced at him with a playful grin. “Ever heard of this band?” she asked, offering one earbud.

Ren shook his head. “Nope. But I’m open to new things.”

She smiled, passing him the earbud. “Good answer.”

As the music played, the city blurred past the window, the lights and buildings blending into streaks of color. Ren leaned back in his seat, the weight of the past finally lifting from his shoulders.

This wasn’t a perfect moment. There were no guarantees, no promises of what might happen next. But it was real. And that was more than enough.

As the train carried them toward the heart of the city, Ren closed his eyes and smiled—because for the first time, he wasn’t chasing the future. He was simply living it.