"I'm inside your house and..."
A pause.
"...you don't need to find me. Just look at the mirror."
Jihad's breath caught in his throat.
He turned slowly toward the hallway mirror.
His heart skipped.
Inside the reflection, he saw... himself. But not quite.
The man in the mirror looked older, worn by time, his eyes heavy with pain. He didn't copy Jihad's movement - he stood still, watching.
"Wh-who are you?" Jihad whispered.
The reflection smiled, faint but sad.
"The time difference between you and me is closed by a wall," the man said.
"I can see you. Speak to you. But you can't touch me. Because you... are me. And I... am you."
Jihad stumbled back. "No. No, this is impossible. You're not real. You're a trick."
The reflection tilted his head. "You saw the CCTV. You saw the jacket. You know this isn't a hallucination."
"Then why?" Jihad's voice trembled. "Why did I kill Ibrahim?"
Future Jihad looked away for a moment. "You didn't."
Jihad froze. "What?"
"I didn't come back to kill him. I came back to save him."
Silence fell between the two versions of the same man. Only the rain tapping against the window filled the air.
"Save him...?" Jihad repeated.
"In the future, Ibrahim dies because of a misunderstanding. A chain of decisions that begins now. I came back to stop it. To change the moment."
Jihad's hand trembled. "Then how did he die... in the footage?"
Future Jihad lowered his head.
"Ibrahim thought I was an intruder. He panicked. He fought me. He grabbed my gun. In the chaos... it fired."
Jihad's lips parted. The weight of realization pressed down like concrete on his chest.
"I... I killed you?" he whispered.
Future Jihad nodded solemnly. "Not on purpose. But yes."
Jihad stepped back, collapsing into a chair, the world spinning.
"All this time," he said. "I thought I was chasing a killer. But I was chasing myself. A version of me who came to do the right thing."
"That's what I tried to tell you," Future Jihad said. "Remember? 'Situation makes us the killer.' You thought it meant I chose this. But I didn't. Neither will you."
Tears welled in Jihad's eyes. "Is there any way to change it?"
Future Jihad offered the smallest smile. "Maybe. If you understand it early enough."
The reflection began to fade.
"Wait!" Jihad cried out. "Don't go! I have questions-!"
But the mirror was normal again. Only his own reflection now. Younger. Unbroken.
Then - a soft beep under his bed.
Jihad reached down and found the small remote - blinking slowly. The same one from the CCTV footage.
It vibrated slightly. A single red light glowed.
He stared at it.
If he pressed it... would he travel through time too?
Would he become that version of himself?
Before he could decide, his phone rang.
"Detective Jihad," said Officer Rahim. "HQ needs you immediately."
"What now?" Jihad asked, barely present.
"There's been another death. Ibrahim."
Jihad's hand dropped to his side.
"Ibrahim?" he whispered.
"He was found in his apartment. Shot. The weird part? CCTV shows... someone who looked like you."
Jihad didn't respond.
Rahim added quietly, "Do you know anything about this, sir?"
Jihad stared at the mirror.
He whispered, "Only that it was never supposed to happen."
He ended the call.
Jihad sat on the edge of his bed, holding the remote in his hand. This was the moment his future self came to prevent. A tragedy caused not by choice... but fear.
He looked at the mirror again.
For a second, it felt like someone was still watching him.
He whispered, "I understand now."
The remote blinked again. He didn't press it.
Not yet.
But he would.