"Dad…" Kevin called out to a man in his mid-40s — voice steady, almost adult in tone.
The man turned, caught off guard. His full grey hair shimmered faintly under the weak dawn light. The sun hadn't risen yet; it was only 3:46 a.m. The world was still half-asleep.
"Yes?" he answered with a warm smile. He looked so much like Kevin — or perhaps Kevin looked like him.
"Don't worry, I've already given your sister money for snacks, okay?" he added teasingly, patting Kevin's shoulder.
"You're going to get a lot of customers today," Kevin said. His voice was unwavering — unnervingly calm for a child. "And for exactly six months, your company will experience extreme financial increase."
The man blinked. Once. Twice. Then his smile returned. He lowered himself slightly, clasping Kevin's right arm with firm affection.
"Amen," he agreed, with the conviction of a priest. Because he was one — a man who believed in prophecies and divine messages.
But Kevin wasn't done.
"As you get that money," he continued, eyes level, "you must invest it. Multiple investments. And make sure the building in mom's home town is completed within the next three months."
His father froze — struck speechless.
Kevin pressed on, tone crisp, mature:
"And if you must erect a building in the village… do it quietly. And only with someone trustworthy. Otherwise there will be unnecessary consequences."
"You—you…" The words refused to come out.
Prophecy was one thing. Specificity was another.
Kevin suddenly grinned. "Bye, Dad! Safe journey and good luck!"
He dashed back inside before the interrogation could begin, chanting cheerful morning blessings as he fled.
His father remained standing by the gate as the morning breeze washed over him. The heavy black gate towered behind him, and as he pushed it open, he had to bend slightly — years of height and work carved into his silhouette.
He exhaled deeply.
"I shouldn't overthink this," he murmured, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Children's hearts are pure. They see things adults can't."
Yet the thought lingered, persistent:
(Could this be because of the promise his mother made before birth…?)
AT SCHOOL — 12:21 p.m
Break Period
Kevin sat alone at his desk, hands cupping his cheeks, elbows planted against the wooden surface. His eyes stared without seeing, lost far beyond the noisy classroom.
The room buzzed with afternoon chaos.
Some students were already downstairs, playing police and thief, hopping over chalk lines for suwe, or kicking improvised paper footballs around the corridor. Others remained upstairs — chatting, pushing, trading snacks, arguing over crayons, or scribbling in each other's notes.
A normal break period for most.
But not for Kevin.
Ever since he woke up from that dream, the world had been anything but normal. Even when he tried to change things, events twisted themselves back into disaster.
(I hope Dad makes the right decisions with everything I told him…)
His thoughts halted. His eyes widened.
(Wait. Didn't I just reveal the future to him? With that much detail? Wouldn't that cause a paradox?)
"Urrrgh—this doesn't make sense," he growled under his breath, dragging his hands through his hair.
"What doesn't make sense?" a feminine voice asked.
It was soft — but firm.
Kevin looked up slowly.
He hadn't made real friends since he transferred — strange, considering in the dream everyone was drawn to him. Now he kept his distance from everyone.
So who would speak to him like that?
"Nazy?!" he gasped.
He honestly thought she hated him now.
"I can't believe you're spacing out," Nazy said, cheeks flushed. She was nervous, but fighting it.
"I'm sorry," Kevin answered, trying to smooth out the awkwardness. "I was just thinking. That's all."
"Oh, is that so…" she muttered, biting her lower lip, fists clenched, rocking slightly on her heels.
She clearly had something to say — but tension strangled the words.
Then she blurted it out:
"Look — I misjudged you, okay?! There, I said it!"
"Uhh… what?" Kevin blinked.
Nazy sighed dramatically.
"Ever since you came here, you kept trying to be friends. But I got annoyed. Everyone — even my friends — were fawning over you. It pissed me off!"
Kevin tried to speak but—
"And then you saved me on the stairs and even got hurt! So I felt bad and thought maybe I'd give you a chance. But then you just went cold last week!"
She puffed her cheeks — furious, but undeniably cute.
"Not talking to anybody, staying alone like some ghost. What's your prob—mmph!"
Kevin covered her mouth with one hand, face red.
"I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind. And I… thought I should give you space."
When he released her, she pointed accusingly.
"You sound like a grandpa!"
"Hehe," he chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head. "S-So… can we… be friends now?"
She folded her arms.
"Okay, I don hear you. Just friends, okay? No go dey think nonsense oh!"
"Of course. I won't do anything weird," he replied, smiling genuinely.
It felt like sunlight after rain.
For the first time in weeks, something went right.
He smiled all the way through the rest of school, and even on the journey home, his smile refused to fade.
Finally, maybe the future was changing.
Finally, maybe things would get easier.
Or so he thought—
The moment he stepped through the gate at home—
"Argh!!" He staggered, clutching his temples as pain ripped through him.
The vision.
Hot. Violent. Wrong.
Not like the others — deeper. Sharper. As if time itself was snapping a bone.
It was the same one he saw after saving Nazy on the stairs. The one he hoped had vanished because a full week passed without incident.
But dreams don't vanish.
Futures don't vanish.
They wait.
"Again…" His voice trembled. "Every time I prevent a disaster, it only gets worse."
His fingers curled. His breath hitched.
"Always repeating—"
He opened his eyes. They glimmered with dread. Not fear of dying — fear of failing.
"Time and Time Again."
—To Be Continued