He didn't visit the injured student.
He couldn't.
The news spread quickly through campus nothing life-threatening, they said. A fractured arm. A few stitches. People moved on by evening.
He didn't.
All day, his thoughts circled the same point.
If I hadn't said anything….
It was a small sentence. A harmless warning. And yet, someone else had paid the price for it.
That night, he sat on the terrace, phone in his hand, staring at the city lights. He typed a message to her, then erased it. Typed again. Deleted.
Every version sounded wrong.
If he said too much, he might change something he couldn't control.
If he said nothing, he already knew how this story ended.
For the first time since waking up in the past, he felt truly afraid.
But of becoming the reason others suffered.
Days passed, and he forced himself to stay distant. He answered when spoken to. He smiled when required. He avoided places where he knew she might be.
But fate wasn't so easily avoided.
One afternoon, his best friend stopped him near the parking area.
"Can you drop her home today?" he asked. "I'm stuck in lab."
His heart sank.
He considered saying no. A hundred excuses lined up in his head.
But he nodded.
"Okay."
The ride was quiet. Not awkward just thoughtful. The road stretched ahead, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Every turn felt loaded with memory.
Halfway, she spoke.
"You've been weird lately," she said. "Not rude. Just… quiet."
He didn't answer immediately.
"I'm just tired," he said finally.
She didn't push. She never did.
As they neared her street, a car sped past them suddenly, too close for comfort. He braked hard. She held onto the back of the seat instinctively.
Nothing happened.
But his hands shook long after they stopped.
That night, sleep refused to come.
He sat up in bed, replaying everything the accident that wasn't meant for someone else, the near miss on the road, the way time seemed to correct itself in cruel ways.
Avoiding action wasn't saving anyone.
But acting blindly was dangerous.
If silence and caution both led to loss, then maybe
Maybe he needed to stop being subtle.
He needed to face the future head-on.
Not with hints.
Not with half-warnings.
But with real intervention.
Even if it meant becoming part of the storm he was trying to escape.
He closed his eyes, decision settling heavily in his chest.
Tomorrow, he would step in.
Properly.
Whatever the cost.