Sam Pov
Okay. So.
Time travel?
Not on my bingo card for this year.
I mean, in hindsight, sure , secret building, memory wipes, existential dread, but I always assumed time would stay politely linear.
Like a rule you don't question because breaking it sounds exhausting.
Spoiler: it is exhausting.
---
I woke up the next morning with the overwhelming certainty that I had done something irreversible and absolutely no receipt to prove it.
My phone said Tuesday.
I did not trust it.
I stared at my ceiling, waiting for it to flicker, or dissolve, or reveal another ceiling underneath it labeled Version Two.
Nothing happened.
"Cool," I muttered.
"Guess we live here now."
---
At breakfast, my mom mentioned the park.
Casually.
"They're forming some community thing," she said, pouring coffee.
"About that construction project.
Apparently there were… concerns."
I froze mid-bite.
She noticed. "You okay?"
"Yep," I said quickly.
"Love civic engagement."
She smiled, satisfied, and turned back to her mug.
I sat there, heart racing.
That never happened before.
---
At school, the vibe was...
Different.
Not dramatically.
Not enough for anyone to point at and scream time fracture.
But the little things didn't line up the way they used to.
A teacher admitted she'd been wrong about a due date.
A kid apologized first during an argument.
The hallway clocks?
Back in sync.
On time.
I stopped walking.
Alex noticed immediately, because of course he did.
"What?" he asked.
I pointed upward.
"They fixed it."
Alex checked his watch.
"…Yeah."
We shared a look that said oh no and oh wow at the same time.
---
We gathered at lunch like disaster survivors comparing notes.
Jordan was vibrating with restrained excitement.
"This is consistent," he whispered.
"Micro-level deviations from the original loop.
The system isn't auto-correcting as aggressively."
Lena poked her food. "Meaning?"
"Meaning the town doesn't trust itself as much anymore," Riley said.
I blinked. "We traumatized a town."
Maya smiled faintly. "We taught it."
That felt better.
Slightly.
---
Here's the thing no one tells you about changing time:
You don't feel powerful.
You feel responsible.
Every choice suddenly feels like it might echo.
Every joke feels like it could butterfly-effect someone into a villain.
I cracked jokes anyway, because that's my coping mechanism and also my brand.
"So," I said, "if we accidentally invent a utopia, do we get credit?"
Alex snorted.
"You're impossible."
"Thank you."
---
After school, I did something very dumb.
I went back to Marrow Street.
Alone.
I wanted to see if it still felt watched.
It didn't.
Which was worse.
The air was quiet in a normal way. Birds. Cars.
Wind.
No hum.
No pressure.
Just a street that didn't care if I existed.
I laughed, a little hysterically.
"So that's it?" I said to no one.
"We fix time and you ghost me?"
My phone buzzed.
I nearly threw it.
Unknown Number: Changes detected.
Unknown Number: Variable Sam-3 remains consistent.
I stared at the screen.
Sam-three ?
My fingers shook as I typed.
Me: what does sam-3 mean
The reply took longer than usual.
Unknown Number: Third iteration to retain self-awareness.
I swallowed hard.
Me: how many didn't
The dots appeared.
Paused.
Disappeared.
When the reply came, it was shorter.
Unknown Number: Enough.
I felt cold all over.
So here's the twist I didn't see coming:
I wasn't just reacting to time.
Time had tried me before.
And failed.
Which meant whatever was happening next wasn't just about saving Marrow.
It was about why I kept surviving the resets.
And suddenly, joking about it felt a lot harder.
Because if I was iteration three...
What happened to Sam One and Sam Two?
And why did I get to remember?
I walked home fast, heart pounding, the quiet street suddenly feeling very, very crowded with ghosts that only I seemed to know existed.
Time travel, it turns out, doesn't make you special.
It makes you testable.
And I had a terrible feeling I was about to find out what happened when the test changed.
Authors Note:-
Please support with power stones and collections