Felix stood just outside the school gate, the iron bars cool beneath his fingertips.
For a moment, he didn't move.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the ground. Students' voices drifted toward him—laughing, arguing, shoving each other playfully. The air buzzed with careless energy, the kind only teenagers possessed, blissfully unaware of how fragile these days truly were.
Felix inhaled deeply.
This place felt smaller than he remembered. Or maybe he was seeing it differently now—through eyes that had already lived a lifetime beyond these walls.
"Oi, are you planning to become a statue?"
The voice came from behind.
Before Felix could turn, a firm hand clapped onto his shoulder, jolting him slightly. Another arm hooked around his neck in a loose headlock.
"Relax, bro," Nikhil said, grinning. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Dev stood beside him, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised. "Or like you failed an exam you didn't even know you had."
Felix forced a smile.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just… tired."
Nikhil squinted at him. "You sure? You went blank in class. Vincent Sir nearly roasted you alive."
Felix nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay."
It wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't the truth either.
The three of them walked together, leaving the school behind. Felix let his gaze drift, absorbing everything—the cracked pavement, the street vendors calling out, the familiar chaos of students dispersing into the city.
This is really happening, he thought.
They stopped at the cafeteria a few streets away. It was nothing fancy—plastic chairs, chipped tables, the smell of oil and spices hanging thick in the air. Yet the moment Felix stepped inside, something twisted gently in his chest.
This place.
They used to come here almost every day.
They sat down, trays clattering. Nikhil immediately launched into complaints about school rules, teachers, and how unfair life was. Dev listened half-heartedly, already pulling out his phone to check messages.
Felix watched them.
Seventeen years old. Alive. Loud. Annoying.
We were like this once, he thought. And then we drifted.
Nikhil would chase football dreams with everything he had, climbing step by step until he reached international-level trials. Dev would talk endlessly about business ideas—some ridiculous, some brilliant—until one of them finally worked.
And me?
Felix clenched his jaw.
He had let fear make decisions for him.
"So," Dev said suddenly, snapping Felix out of his thoughts, "badminton trials are after lunch."
Felix's hand froze mid-air.
Trials.
The word echoed painfully.
Dev leaned forward. "You're coming, right?"
Nikhil nodded eagerly. "Obviously he is. Felix is the best player among us. It would be stupid not to try."
Felix swallowed.
He remembered the trials clearly—too clearly.
The sudden stomach ache. The nausea. The cramps that doubled him over just before the trial match. He had spent the day in the washroom, sweating and miserable, watching his chance slip away while others played.
And later…
Later, he had laughed.
You really think someone like you deserves to be on the team?
Felix's fingers tightened around his glass.
"I'll come," he said.
Both Nikhil and Dev blinked.
Dev frowned slightly. "You sound… serious."
Felix met their eyes. "I am."
Nikhil grinned. "That's my boy. It's our last year anyway. At least try."
Last year, Felix thought.
Exactly.
They finished lunch laughing about nothing in particular. The cafeteria buzzed with noise, and for a while, Felix let himself forget the weight pressing against his chest.
This—this was what he had lost.
Not success.
Moments.
They headed back toward the school. The badminton court was already alive with activity. Students warmed up, rackets slicing through the air, shuttlecocks flying in sharp arcs.
Felix's gaze instinctively searched the crowd.
And then he saw him.
Kunal Yadav.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Confidence dripping from every careless movement. He leaned against a wall near the lockers, racket resting on his shoulder, a smirk permanently etched onto his face.
Two of his lackeys, Sam and John, hovered nearby, laughing at something he said.
A chill crawled up Felix's spine.
There you are.
Nikhil followed his gaze. "That guy's been running his mouth all day," he muttered. "Acting like he's already on the team."
Dev scoffed. "As usual."
Felix said nothing.
In his past life, this was the man who made sure he never played.
During the trials, Kunal made him drink something unhealthy.
Felix didn't realize it immediately.
But when he was playing a match against Kunal—that was when it hit.
A sudden twist in his stomach.
Sharp.
Unnatural.
His breath caught.
For a split second, panic flared.
No.
Felix straightened, forcing himself to breathe slowly. The pain lingered—but weaker. Fading.
Someone laughed behind him.
Felix turned.
Kunal stood there, close enough that Felix could smell the mint on his breath.
Kunal leaned in slightly and whispered, "Funny thing about stomach aches."
Felix's blood ran cold.
"In the future," Kunal continued softly, mockingly, "you should be more careful about what you eat before trials."
"You…" Felix said quietly.
Kunal grinned. "Took you long enough to figure it out."
Memories slammed into Felix's mind—crystal clear.
That day.
That pain.
That laughter.
His grip tightened around the bottle.
They moved toward the court again. Felix adjusted his hold on the racket, muscles loosening as familiarity took over. Badminton had always come naturally to him—speed, precision, instincts sharpened through countless casual matches.
Kunal noticed him.
The smirk widened.
"Well, well," Kunal said loudly, stepping forward. "Look who finally decided to show up."
Felix met his gaze calmly.
Nikhil stiffened. "Ignore him."
Kunal's eyes flicked to Nikhil, then back to Felix. "Didn't expect you here, Vedman. Thought you preferred books over courts."
Felix replied evenly, "People can do both."
Kunal laughed. "We'll see."
The whistle blew.
The trials began.
Felix played.
And for the first time since waking up in 2023, his mind went quiet.
No future memories. No regret. No fear.
Just movement.
He chased every shuttle, footwork sharp, timing precise. Sweat dripped down his temples, his heart pounding—not with panic, but exhilaration.
Nikhil watched from the sidelines, eyes wide. "Damn," he muttered. "He's good."
Dev nodded slowly. "He always was."
Across the court, Kunal's smile had vanished.
As the matches progressed, Felix felt something shift—not just around him, but inside him.
I'm not the man behind a mart counter anymore, he thought.
Not today.
After one rally, Felix stepped aside to grab water. Kunal stood nearby, watching with anticipation.
But Felix didn't reach for the bottle placed there.
Instead, he walked toward his friends.
Felix glanced back at Kunal, his heartbeat steady.
Not afraid.
This time, he thought, I won't miss it.
The whistle blew again.
Felix stepped back onto the court.
Behind him, Kunal's smile finally faltered. He also moved inside the court.