Andrew sat at his desk, the letter lying face-down as if it might burn him if he looked at it again. He had read it over and over the night before, but somehow the words always seemed to change, as if they carried more weight each time. The letter had told him to watch over Grace, to be careful with choices that could change her life—and his—in ways he didn't yet understand.
What bothered him most wasn't only the warning. It was the handwriting. It didn't just look like his—it felt like his. The way the words bent, the way sentences connected, even the tone. It sounded like something he would write. But from the future? That didn't make sense.
He tried to laugh it off, to believe it was a joke or prank. But deep inside, something unsettled stayed with him. Andrew knew better than most what it felt like to be misunderstood.
His fingers tapped on the desk as old memories surfaced—ones he had tried hard to forget.
Back in his old school, life had seemed simple. Andrew wasn't the loudest kid, and he didn't try to be the center of attention. He liked quiet spaces, sketching in his notebook, or walking home alone while others stayed on the basketball court. But then came Marina.
She was kind and always smiling, usually with friends around her. Andrew didn't really know her. Until the day he overheard something he shouldn't have.
One evening, he had gone back to class to grab a forgotten book. From behind a half-closed door, he saw Marina's boyfriend, Ryan, with another girl. Ryan's words were soft but cruel.
"Don't worry about Marina. She'll never find out. You're the one I really like."
Andrew froze. His chest sank like a rock in water. He barely knew Marina, but no one deserved that. Should he stay quiet? Pretend he hadn't seen it? Or tell her the truth?
By the next morning, he decided he had to tell her. He couldn't live with the thought of doing nothing. So he waited by the gate after school, rehearsing in his head: Marina, I need to tell you something about Ryan. I'm sorry, but you should know. His palms were sweating when she finally walked by.
She looked at him strangely. "You're… Andrew, right? What do you want?"
Her friends stood close, forming a wall around her. His words stumbled out. "It's about Ryan. I think he's… not being honest with you."
Her face changed at once. "What are you talking about?"
"I saw him yesterday. After class. He was with someone else," Andrew said quickly, his voice shaking.
Her friends whispered to each other. Marina's cheeks burned red with anger and shame. "So you've been spying on us? Watching me?"
"No! It's not like that!" Andrew panicked. "I just… I happened to see—"
But she was already turning away. And the next day, the whole school knew. The story twisted fast: Andrew was a stalker. Andrew was making up lies to get Marina's attention.
Teachers looked at him differently. Classmates avoided him. He heard the whispers: creep, loser, pervert. Ryan acted like the perfect boyfriend, staying close to Marina and glaring at Andrew in the halls. Marina wouldn't even look at him anymore.
Andrew felt powerless. His good choice had turned into a mistake that ruined him. Speaking up only made things worse, so he went silent, closing in on himself until his parents moved him to a new school.
Now, in this new classroom, Andrew clenched his fists under the desk. The shame and hurt were still there. He had tried to do the right thing, and it had destroyed him.
The letter's warning echoed again: This time, don't repeat the same mistakes. Protect Grace, no matter what.
His eyes moved across the room. Grace sat by the window, sunlight shining on her hair as she bent over her notebook. She was new too, but unlike him, she seemed easy to talk to. People already liked her. She wasn't Marina, but something about her reminded him of that old story, and it made his chest tighten.
Was this what the letter meant? Was he supposed to protect her? But protect her from what? From his silence—or from acting too quickly? He couldn't tell.
When the last bell rang, Andrew stayed behind, packing his bag slowly while the others rushed out. He wanted space, time to think.
The hall was almost empty when he heard voices around the corner.
"…just don't tell her yet," one boy whispered.
"She'll find out eventually," another replied.
Andrew stopped. He knew those voices—two boys from his class. He couldn't catch everything they said, but he heard enough: something about meeting after school, and "not letting Grace know."
His stomach dropped. Was this the danger? Or just a harmless talk? He didn't know. But he couldn't forget Marina, how his words had backfired, how badly things had gone before.
Still, he couldn't ignore it either.
That night, lying in bed, Andrew turned the letter over in his hands again. His younger side wanted to dismiss it, call it nonsense. But the part of him shaped by his past knew better. Warnings didn't come twice.
He thought of Marina—her angry face, the rumors, the way the truth had been turned against him. He couldn't let that happen again, not with Grace.
So he made a quiet promise in the dark: this time, he would be careful. He would search for the truth before saying anything. He would protect Grace, even if it meant facing old wounds.
Because if the letter was really from his future self, then he already knew what failure looked like.
And he wouldn't let it happen again.