Zara didn't wake up screaming.
If anything, that was the strangest part of it all.
Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the pale morning light leaking through the thin curtains, and for a few seconds, everything looked exactly the same as it always did—the cracked corner of the ceiling, the lazy spin of the fan above her, the faint hum of the city waking up outside. It should have felt normal.
But it didn't.
There was a weight in her chest, heavy and tight, like she had just run a long distance or cried for hours without remembering why. She stayed still, staring upward, trying to understand where the feeling was coming from, but the answer didn't come in words.
It came in a flash.
Not a dream.
Not really a memory either.
Something in between.
A boy standing in the rain.
His clothes soaked, his hair pressed against his forehead, his hand slightly shaking as he reached toward her. There was blood—she didn't know from where, but she knew it didn't matter because the look in his eyes was worse. Fear, yes… but not for himself.
For her.
"Don't come tomorrow."
Zara sat up sharply, her breath catching halfway through her chest as if her body had reacted before her mind could even catch up.
The room fell quiet again.
Too quiet.
"What… was that?" she whispered, her voice dry and unsure, like she didn't fully trust it.
She pressed her fingers against her temple, trying to push the image away, but it didn't fade the way dreams usually did. It stayed, clear and stubborn, like it had something to prove.
That wasn't normal.
Dreams don't linger like that.
Dreams don't feel real enough to make your heart race minutes after you wake up.
She swung her legs off the bed, forcing herself to stand even though her body still felt slightly off balance.
"Okay. You're fine," she muttered under her breath, more out of habit than belief. "Just a weird dream. That's all."
But even as she said it, she knew she didn't believe it.
The morning moved on, whether she was ready for it or not.
Zara followed her usual routine—brushing her teeth, tying her hair back, grabbing her bag—but everything felt just a little… off. Not enough to panic, but enough to notice. Like a song playing slightly out of tune in the background of her day.
By the time she stepped outside, the air felt warmer than usual, the street louder, the movement around her slightly harder to ignore. And then it started. Small things at first.
The kind you would normally brush off without thinking twice.
She reached the bus stop and paused, glancing down the road. "It's going to be late," she said quietly, not really thinking about it.
A man standing beside her checked his watch. "It's always late," he muttered. But Zara shook her head slightly.
"No… I mean later than usual." She didn't know why she said it. She just… knew.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
People started complaining.
The man beside her gave her a strange look. "You called it."
Zara forced a small smile, but inside, something shifted. That didn't feel like a guess. At school, the feeling got worse.
Stronger.
Harder to ignore.
She stepped into her classroom, her attention drifting for just a second—and then, without thinking, she ducked. A book flew past her head. It hit the wall behind her with a loud, sharp smack that made everyone freeze.For a moment, no one spoke.
Zara slowly straightened, her heart pounding now for a completely different reason.
"I—" she started, then stopped.
Her classmate stared at her. "How did you know that was coming?"
Zara opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Because she didn't know how to explain something she didn't understand herself. "I just… moved," she said finally, though even she could hear how weak that sounded.But the truth was worse.
She didn't react. She anticipated it.
Like her body had already been there before the moment happened.By lunchtime, she couldn't pretend anymore. The feeling had settled deep into her bones now, making everything around her feel slightly delayed, like she was always one step ahead of reality without trying to be. She sat alone, pushing her food around her plate, her appetite gone.
"This doesn't make any sense," she murmured, her fingers tightening around her spoon.
Then it happened again.
Another flash. Stronger this time.Closer.The same boy.
But now he wasn't just standing there—he was right in front of her. His hand wrapped tightly around hers, his grip urgent, almost desperate. "If you come tomorrow," he said, his voice sharper now, more intense, "you won't make it out."
Zara gasped softly, the spoon slipping from her fingers and clattering loudly against the tray. A few heads turned, but she didn't notice, Her heart was racing too fast. Her chest rising and falling like she had been holding her breath without realizing it.
"Who are you…?" she whispered, barely audible even to herself. Because she knew one thing for sure.
She had never seen him before. And yet…
There was something about him that felt familiar in a way she couldn't explain.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Zara walked home slower than usual, her mind replaying everything over and over again, trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense."Okay," she said quietly to herself, her voice steadier now, as if saying it out loud might make it real. "Either I'm losing my mind… or something is seriously wrong."
A car sped down the street beside her.
Too fast.
Too close.
She stepped back instantly, Before it even reached her.
The wind from it brushed past her a second later. Zara froze. Then slowly turned to look at the road.
"I knew that was going to happen…"
This time, there was no denying it.
No brushing it off.
No pretending it was coincidence.
Something was happening to her. Something real.
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
Every time she closed her eyes, the same image returned.
The boy.
The rain.
The warning.
"Don't come tomorrow."
She sat up again, frustrated now, running a hand through her hair. "Come where?" she muttered, her voice sharper this time. "You didn't even say where."
Silence answered her.
The kind that made everything feel heavier.
She reached for her phone, more out of habit than anything, scrolling aimlessly just to distract herself.
And then she saw it.
A message, From an unknown number. Her stomach tightened instantly.
For a moment, she just stared at it, her thumb hovering over the screen as if opening it might make everything worse.Then slowly… she tapped.
One message.
No name.
No picture. Just a single line.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
Zara's breath caught. Her fingers moved before she could think too much about it.
"Who is this?"
The reply came almost instantly.
Too fast.
Like whoever it was had been waiting.
"Tomorrow. 4PM. Old bridge."
Her heart skipped.The same place from her vision.
Her grip on the phone tightened.
"How do you know that?" she typed quickly.
This time, the response didn't come right away.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then came back again. And finally—
"Because that's where you die."
Zara's hand went weak.
The phone slipped from her grip and hit the floor with a dull, echoing sound that seemed louder than it should have been.
She didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe properly.
The words stayed there, burned into her mind.
Not a joke.
Not a guess.
A statement.
And somehow… deep down…She believed it.
She didn't tell anyone Not her friends. Not anyone at home.
Because how do you explain something like that without sounding completely insane?
Instead, she made a decision.
A reckless one.
The kind of decision she always made when something scared her.
She chose to face it.
The next day dragged in a way she had never experienced before.
Every minute felt longer than it should have, every second stretching just enough to make her aware of it.
4PM felt like something waiting for her.
Something inevitable. And still—She went.
The bridge looked exactly the way she remembered it.
Quiet.
Empty.
The air heavier than usual, like rain was on its way but hadn't decided yet.
Zara stepped forward slowly, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
"I'm here," she said, her voice barely steady.
Nothing happened.
A few seconds passed.
Then more.
She let out a small breath, almost laughing.
"See? Nothing—"
"—you really came."
Her body went still. She turned slowly. And there he was.
Exactly as she had seen him.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But this time, there was no blood.
No rain. Just him.
Looking at her like she had just stepped into something she couldn't escape from.
"I told you not to come," he said quietly.
Zara swallowed, her voice barely holding together.
"You're real…"
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair like this was already going wrong.
"Yeah," he said. "And in about ten minutes…"
He looked at her—really looked this time.
"…you won't be."
st part of it all.
Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the pale morning light leaking through the thin curtains, and for a few seconds, everything looked exactly the same as it always did—the cracked corner of the ceiling, the lazy spin of the fan above her, the faint hum of the city waking up outside. It should have felt normal.
But it didn't.
There was a weight in her chest, heavy and tight, like she had just run a long distance or cried for hours without remembering why. She stayed still, staring upward, trying to understand where the feeling was coming from, but the answer didn't come in words.
It came in a flash.
Not a dream.
Not really a memory either.
Something in between.
A boy standing in the rain.
His clothes soaked, his hair pressed against his forehead, his hand slightly shaking as he reached toward her. There was blood—she didn't know from where, but she knew it didn't matter because the look in his eyes was worse. Fear, yes… but not for himself.
For her.
"Don't come tomorrow."
Zara sat up sharply, her breath catching halfway through her chest as if her body had reacted before her mind could even catch up.
The room fell quiet again.
Too quiet.
"What… was that?" she whispered, her voice dry and unsure, like she didn't fully trust it.
She pressed her fingers against her temple, trying to push the image away, but it didn't fade the way dreams usually did. It stayed, clear and stubborn, like it had something to prove.
That wasn't normal.
Dreams don't linger like that.
Dreams don't feel real enough to make your heart race minutes after you wake up.
She swung her legs off the bed, forcing herself to stand even though her body still felt slightly off balance.
"Okay. You're fine," she muttered under her breath, more out of habit than belief. "Just a weird dream. That's all."
But even as she said it, she knew she didn't believe it.
The morning moved on, whether she was ready for it or not.
Zara followed her usual routine—brushing her teeth, tying her hair back, grabbing her bag—but everything felt just a little… off. Not enough to panic, but enough to notice. Like a song playing slightly out of tune in the background of her day.
By the time she stepped outside, the air felt warmer than usual, the street louder, the movement around her slightly harder to ignore.
And then it started.
Small things at first.
The kind you would normally brush off without thinking twice.
She reached the bus stop and paused, glancing down the road.
"It's going to be late," she said quietly, not really thinking about it.
A man standing beside her checked his watch. "It's always late," he muttered.
But Zara shook her head slightly.
"No… I mean later than usual."
She didn't know why she said it.
She just… knew.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
People started complaining.
The man beside her gave her a strange look. "You called it."
Zara forced a small smile, but inside, something shifted.
That didn't feel like a guess.
At school, the feeling got worse.
Stronger.
Harder to ignore.
She stepped into her classroom, her attention drifting for just a second—and then, without thinking, she ducked.
A book flew past her head.
It hit the wall behind her with a loud, sharp smack that made everyone freeze.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Zara slowly straightened, her heart pounding now for a completely different reason.
"I—" she started, then stopped.
Her classmate stared at her. "How did you know that was coming?"
Zara opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Because she didn't know how to explain something she didn't understand herself.
"I just… moved," she said finally, though even she could hear how weak that sounded.
But the truth was worse.
She didn't react.
She anticipated it.
Like her body had already been there before the moment happened.
By lunchtime, she couldn't pretend anymore.
The feeling had settled deep into her bones now, making everything around her feel slightly delayed, like she was always one step ahead of reality without trying to be.
She sat alone, pushing her food around her plate, her appetite gone.
"This doesn't make any sense," she murmured, her fingers tightening around her spoon.
Then it happened again.
Another flash.
Stronger this time.
Closer.
The same boy.
But now he wasn't just standing there—he was right in front of her.
His hand wrapped tightly around hers, his grip urgent, almost desperate.
"If you come tomorrow," he said, his voice sharper now, more intense, "you won't make it out."
Zara gasped softly, the spoon slipping from her fingers and clattering loudly against the tray.
A few heads turned, but she didn't notice.
Her heart was racing too fast.
Her chest rising and falling like she had been holding her breath without realizing it.
"Who are you…?" she whispered, barely audible even to herself.
Because she knew one thing for sure.
She had never seen him before.
And yet…
There was something about him that felt familiar in a way she couldn't explain.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Zara walked home slower than usual, her mind replaying everything over and over again, trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense.
"Okay," she said quietly to herself, her voice steadier now, as if saying it out loud might make it real. "Either I'm losing my mind… or something is seriously wrong."
A car sped down the street beside her.
Too fast.
Too close.
She stepped back instantly—
Before it even reached her.
The wind from it brushed past her a second later.
Zara froze.
Then slowly turned to look at the road.
"I knew that was going to happen…"
This time, there was no denying it.
No brushing it off.
No pretending it was coincidence.
Something was happening to her.
Something real.
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
Every time she closed her eyes, the same image returned.
The boy.
The rain.
The warning.
"Don't come tomorrow."
She sat up again, frustrated now, running a hand through her hair.
"Come where?" she muttered, her voice sharper this time. "You didn't even say where."
Silence answered her.
The kind that made everything feel heavier.
She reached for her phone, more out of habit than anything, scrolling aimlessly just to distract herself.
And then she saw it.
A message.
From an unknown number.
Her stomach tightened instantly.
For a moment, she just stared at it, her thumb hovering over the screen as if opening it might make everything worse.
Then slowly… she tapped.
One message.
No name.
No picture.
Just a single line.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
Zara's breath caught.
Her fingers moved before she could think too much about it.
"Who is this?"
The reply came almost instantly.
Too fast.
Like whoever it was had been waiting.
"Tomorrow. 4PM. Old bridge."
Her heart skipped.
The same place from her vision.
Her grip on the phone tightened.
"How do you know that?" she typed quickly.
This time, the response didn't come right away.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then came back again.
And finally—
"Because that's where you die."
Zara's hand went weak.
The phone slipped from her grip and hit the floor with a dull, echoing sound that seemed louder than it should have been.
She didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe properly.
The words stayed there, burned into her mind.
Not a joke.
Not a guess.
A statement.
And somehow… deep down…
She believed it.
She didn't tell anyone.
Not her friends. Not anyone at home.
Because how do you explain something like that without sounding completely insane?
Instead, she made a decision.
A reckless one.
The kind of decision she always made when something scared her.
She chose to face it.
The next day dragged in a way she had never experienced before.
Every minute felt longer than it should have, every second stretching just enough to make her aware of it.
4PM felt like something waiting for her.
Something inevitable.
And still—
She went.
The bridge looked exactly the way she remembered it.
Quiet.
Empty.
The air heavier than usual, like rain was on its way but hadn't decided yet.
Zara stepped forward slowly, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
"I'm here," she said, her voice barely steady.
Nothing happened.
A few seconds passed.
Then more.
She let out a small breath, almost laughing.
"See? Nothing—"
"—you really came."
Her body went still.
She turned slowly.
And there he was.
Exactly as she had seen him.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But this time, there was no blood.
No rain.
Just him.
Looking at her like she had just stepped into something she couldn't escape from.
"I told you not to come," he said quietly.
Zara swallowed, her voice barely holding together.
"You're real…"
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair like this was already going wrong.
"Yeah," he said. "And in about ten minutes…"
He looked at her—really looked this time.
"…you won't be."