Aarav sat up so fast his head spun. His roommate was already gone—probably for morning practice—but the bed next to him looked strangely untouched, as if the day hadn't started the way he remembered it.
The ticking of the pocket watch grew louder, sharper, almost angry.
He looked at the date on his phone.
His stomach dropped.
It wasn't yesterday.
It was the day before yesterday.
"How is that even—?" His words faded as a cold realization settled in.
The stranger had warned him.
You stayed too long. The thread will push you somewhere else.
Aarav rubbed his face, trying to breathe.
He had gone to sleep hoping he'd return to his actual today… but instead, he'd gone further back.
Two days.
If this kept happening, where would he end up?
He forced himself to get up. Panicking wouldn't help. He needed to think.
Aarav reached for his jeans, pulling them on automatically—until something fell out of the pocket.
A folded piece of paper.
Small, thin, almost weightless.
He froze.
"I didn't have this yesterday," he whispered.
Hands slightly shaking, he opened it.
Inside, in neat handwriting:
11:59
Don't let it tick.
—S
S.
The stranger had left this.
Aarav sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the note.
The man hadn't lied. He really knew something.
But that didn't make things less frightening.
Why me? Why did the watch choose me?
The stranger's voice echoed in his mind.
Everyone with the watch wants to fix their mistakes.
Aarav swallowed. One mistake kept replaying in his head. One he desperately wished he could change.
Maybe the watch sensed that.
He tucked the note inside his wallet and stepped out into the hallway.
Everything was… familiar.
Yet slightly off.
People walked differently, conversations echoed differently.
He passed by the common room and noticed something that wasn't supposed to be there.
A torn poster for a debate competition.
He distinctly remembered the poster being replaced yesterday.
"Okay," he murmured. "This is real. I really am two days back."
He needed a plan.
He went to class, trying to act normal. Teachers spoke the same lines he remembered. His friends laughed at the same jokes. But every moment reminded him he didn't belong here—not anymore. He was living a recording of a life he'd already seen.
The only thing keeping him grounded was the note in his pocket—and the memory of the stranger's warning.
Time passed slowly. Too slowly.
By evening, he couldn't focus on anything. His eyes kept shifting to the watch in his pocket, terrified it might trigger again.
When night finally settled, he had only one task:
Don't let the watch tick at 11:59.
Anchor himself.
Return to today.
He set an alarm for 11:55.
Aarav lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting.
His mind replayed the stranger's words.
This watch can destroy things.
Fixed points.
Memory threads.
What did all of this even mean?
Why did that man look at Aarav as if he knew him?
The alarm buzzed.
Aarav jumped.
He grabbed the pocket watch.
11:57
11:58
Sweat collected on his neck.
11:59
He held the crown tightly between his fingers just like the stranger instructed.
The watch resisted, vibrating faintly, as if trying to pull itself free.
"No," Aarav whispered, gripping harder. "Not again."
The ticking grew louder.
Louder.
Like a heartbeat.
Then—
It stopped.
The world didn't shake.
The walls didn't distort.
Nothing shattered.
Aarav slowly opened his eyes.
He was still in his bed.
He checked his phone date with trembling fingers.
For the first time in two days—
He was finally back in his real today.
But the moment relief washed over him—
A soft knock sounded at his door.
"S… seriously?" Aarav whispered.
He opened the door.
The stranger stood there.
In the real present.
Expression unreadable.
Coat darker than before.
"Good," he said. "You listened."
Aarav's heart raced.
"You said you'd find me. So… now what?"
The stranger stepped inside.
"Now," he said quietly, "I tell you the truth.
About the watch.
About the people who want it.
And about the danger you don't even know you're in."