There's something disorienting about being too far ahead of your time.
Ethan had started to realize it more and more. Whether it was finishing group projects two weeks early, giving eerily accurate stock advice to classmates, or just being... too calm during campus emergencies, people were starting to notice.
"You've changed," Owen had told him the other day. "You used to procrastinate everything. Now it's like you're predicting the weather two months in advance."
Ethan had laughed it off. But deep inside, he was worried.
He was getting too efficient. Too 'perfect.' Too much like a ghost who had lived it all before.
It was mid-April when he heard about the upcoming tech fair at the university—an event he had completely missed in his previous life. It was obscure, barely advertised, and mostly attended by overly enthusiastic engineering students showing off passion projects and prototypes.
But in this life, Ethan knew better.
This fair, despite its humble exterior, was the seedbed of two major startups that would explode in five years.
One of them would eventually be acquired by a Fortune 500 company. The other would revolutionize mobile healthcare access in Southeast Asia.
Ethan didn't want to build the next unicorn himself—not yet—but he did want to be in the room where the sparks would fly.
He showed up early.
The hall was filled with foldable tables, tangled power cords, and the scent of 3D printer resin. Students hovered over laptops and breadboards. Posters with awkward fonts and mismatched logos lined the walls.
He walked around quietly, talking to a few groups, asking questions, taking mental notes.
Then, near the back, he found them.
A small team of three students—two guys and a girl—huddled around a booth with a hand-drawn sign that read:
"MicroPatch: Diagnostic Stickers for Remote Communities"
Ethan's eyes lit up. This was it.
He introduced himself casually, asked about their project. They explained the basics: a small adhesive patch with embedded micro-sensors that could read vital signs and send data via Bluetooth to a mobile app.
"It's still in alpha," the girl admitted. "We've barely tested it on anything beyond our friends."
"It's brilliant," Ethan said. "Have you talked to the entrepreneurship incubator yet? You could get grants."
She blinked. "We didn't think anyone would take this seriously."
"I do."
They looked at him like he'd just handed them a map to a buried treasure.
Back in his dorm that night, Ethan stared at his whiteboard.
He had mapped out everything: timeline deviations, key events, personal goals, relationships to rebuild, disasters to avoid. It looked like a war room.
But something was still missing.
Purpose.
He had the knowledge, the second chance, even the emotional growth.
But what was he building toward?
In his past life, he had chased security. A good job, stable relationship, quiet weekends.
In this life, that felt... insufficient.
Was he supposed to become some kind of benevolent time-hacker? A guide for the gifted and lost?
Was he meant to save more than just himself?
Sophia texted him later that night:
"Wanna get dinner tmr? I'm craving pho."
"Always down for broth-based therapy."
They met at a tiny Vietnamese spot near the edge of campus. It was a place Ethan had forgotten even existed in his past life.
She ordered spicy beef pho. He got chicken with extra lime.
Over noodles, they talked about everything and nothing.
"I've been writing again," she said, stirring her soup. "Just fragments, mostly. But it feels good to get things out."
"You should compile them," Ethan said. "Make a zine. Or a poetry blog."
She smirked. "Why do you always believe I can do things I'm not sure about?"
"Because I've read the ending," he muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just... I believe in you. Always have."
For a moment, the table was quiet except for the clink of chopsticks and the low hum of ambient jazz.
Then Sophia leaned forward. "You know, sometimes I feel like you're... older than you look. Like there's something ancient behind your eyes."
Ethan paused.
He could lie. Laugh it off.
Or—
"Can I tell you something crazy?"
She looked at him. "Always."
He took a deep breath.
And then he told her.
Not everything. But enough.
About how he'd lived a life before. About waking up again in his 20-year-old body with memories of things yet to happen. About knowing what song would come on the café speaker before it played.
Sophia didn't interrupt. She didn't laugh.
When he finished, she just said, "Wow."
Then, "If this is a joke, it's a really weird one."
"It's not a joke."
Another pause. Then she smiled.
"You know what? I believe you."
"...Seriously?"
"You think I wouldn't recognize another haunted soul? Ethan, everyone's carrying ghosts. Yours just happen to be from the future."
They walked back to campus in the dark. The air was thick with spring and streetlamp glow.
Sophia bumped his shoulder gently. "So, time traveler... what are you going to do with your borrowed time?"
"I'm still figuring that out," he said. "But I know it's not just about me anymore."
"Good," she said. "Because I think we have a lot more to write."
As they parted ways near the library, Ethan looked up at the stars.
They weren't brighter.
They weren't different.
But he was.