Everything went wrong before the sun even rose.
Tobi knew it the moment his alarm didn't ring.
He jerked awake to silence, heart pounding, eyes snapping to the time—8:47 AM.
"...No, no, no."
His exam started at nine.
He scrambled out of bed, nearly slipping on yesterday's clothes, grabbing the nearest shirt (not even his), and rushing out without brushing, without eating, without thinking. The world outside felt louder than usual—horns blaring, people shouting, buses roaring past like angry beasts.
Today wasn't just bad. It felt targeted.
He ran.
Halfway down the street, his phone buzzed. A message from his course rep:
"If you're not in by 9:05, don't bother coming."
Tobi stopped.
Five minutes.
There was no way.
His chest tightened—not just from running, but from everything piling up. The sleepless nights, the pressure, the feeling that no matter what he did, he was always one step behind life.
"Why is it always me…?" he muttered.
A horn blared.
Loud. Close.
Too close.
Tobi turned—
—and the world snapped into slow motion.
A truck.
Speeding.
The driver shouting something he couldn't hear.
His body froze, like his brain had disconnected from reality. His thoughts scattered, then sharpened into one strange, calm realization:
So this is how it ends?
The impact came like a flash of white—
—but there was no pain.
No sound.
No fear.
Just… silence.