He chose the temple.
But because it was where everything broke.
According to his memory, the accident would happen years later late at night, after she decided to visit the temple one last time before leaving for the USA. One bad decision. One empty road. One moment where fate didn't hesitate.
If he could erase the beginning of that habit, maybe the end would never exist.
So he planned carefully.
No warnings.
No casual advice.
No half-measures.
He spoke to her brother first.
"Why does she always go alone?" he asked one evening, pretending it was nothing serious. "Late rides, temple visits… it's not safe."
His friend shrugged. "She's independent. I can't stop her."
"Then don't stop her," he said slowly. "Just… go with her sometimes. Or ask her to go earlier. Daytime."
The suggestion stuck.
A few days later, she mentioned it herself.
my brother suddenly wants to come with me whenever I go to the temple," she laughed. "As if I'm still a kid."
He smiled, hiding the tightness in his chest.
"Maybe he just cares."
Weeks passed.
Months.
She still visited the temple but never alone. Never late. Sometimes with her brother. Sometimes with friends. The dangerous quiet nights disappeared from her routine.
And nothing bad happened.
No accidents.
No hospital calls.
No sudden endings.
For the first time since returning to the past, he felt something unfamiliar.
Relief.
The kind that settles slowly, cautiously, like it's afraid of being chased away.
He began to believe just a little that maybe this time, he had won.
That belief lasted exactly three days.
On the fourth day, the college announced a memorial gathering.
A senior from another department had died in a road accident near the city outskirts. Wrong place. Wrong time. A late-night ride after a farewell party.
He didn't know the name.
But when he saw the photo on the notice board, his breath caught.
That senior used to be alive in his previous timeline.
Used to graduate.
Used to attend the same company interview as him years later.
The details were different.
The location was different.
But the ending was the same.
Someone had still died.
That night, he sat alone on the terrace, the city unusually quiet.
He had saved her.
He was sure of that.
Yet fate hadn't loosened its grip.
It had only shifted its hand.
As the wind brushed past him, a disturbing thought took shape clearer than ever before.
Maybe time didn't care who paid the price.
It only cared that someone did.
And if that was true…
Then saving one life might always mean offering another.