The world was a chaotic blur of screeching tires and shattering glass. Aryan felt a cold, sharp pain piercing his chest, but his eyes were fixed on only one thing: Zara.
She lay just a few feet away from him on the cold, wet asphalt. Her beautiful white dress, the one she had worn for their anniversary dinner, was now ruined—stained with a deep, haunting crimson.
"Zara... please..." Aryan tried to crawl toward her, his fingers scraping against the road.
The rain began to fall, washing away the warmth from his body. Through his fading vision, he saw a black umbrella approaching. A man stood over them, his face hidden in the shadows, but his voice was chillingly familiar.
"You shouldn't have crossed the Elders, Aryan," the man whispered. "In your next life, try not to fall in love with someone so... dangerous."
A gunshot rang out.
Darkness. Total, absolute silence.
"Aryan! If you don't wake up right now, you're going to be late for the orientation!"
Aryan's eyes snapped open. He let out a choked gasp, his hand immediately flying to his chest, searching for the bullet wound. But there was nothing. No pain. No blood.
His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He looked around, trembling. This wasn't the dark, rain-slicked street. This was... his old bedroom?
The dusty sunlight filtered through the blinds, hitting the posters of rock bands on the wall. His old laptop, a model that had been obsolete for years, sat on the desk.
"This is impossible," he whispered, his voice cracking.
He stumbled out of bed and rushed to the mirror. A face stared back at him—a younger, unscarred face. His eyes weren't sunken with years of grief and exhaustion. He looked twenty-one again.
"August 14th, 2019," he muttered, glancing at the calendar on the wall.
He had gone back. Seven years. He had returned to the very day his life—and Zara's life—had truly begun to spiral into a conspiracy they never understood.
"Aryan! Did you hear me?" his mother's voice called from downstairs.
He didn't answer. He couldn't. His mind was racing. If he was back, then Zara... Zara was still alive. She was at the university right now.
Without even washing his face, he grabbed his keys and ran out the door.
St. Jude's University Campus
The campus was buzzing with freshers and senior students. To anyone else, it was a beautiful morning. To Aryan, it was a graveyard of memories. He navigated the corridors like a ghost, his eyes searching every corner, every face.
And then, he saw her.
She was standing under the large banyan tree near the library, holding a stack of books. The sunlight caught the golden highlights in her brown hair. She looked so innocent, so untouched by the tragedies that were yet to come.
Aryan's legs felt like lead. He walked toward her, each step feeling like a mile.
"Zara," he breathed out.
The girl turned around. When her eyes met his, Aryan felt a physical jolt. But something was strange. Instead of the polite, confused smile a girl would give a stranger, Zara's eyes widened in a way that spoke of pure, unadulterated terror.
Her books slipped from her hands, crashing to the pavement.
"Aryan?" she whispered. Her voice wasn't that of a twenty-one-year-old girl. It was heavy, trembling with a sorrow that didn't belong in this sunlight.
Aryan reached out to steady her, his hand gripping her arm. "You're... you're okay. You're alive."
Zara didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers dug into his sleeves, her knuckles turning white. She leaned in, her breath hitching as she whispered something that made Aryan's world tilt on its axis.
"The truck... Aryan, the truck... did it hurt?"
Aryan froze. The air around them seemed to turn to ice. There was no way she should know about the truck. Not unless—
He looked deep into her eyes and saw the same haunting shadows he carried in his own.
"Zara," he whispered, his grip tightening. "What year did we just die in?"
Zara's lips trembled as a single tear escaped her eye. "2026. We died in 2026."
The realization hit them both like a thunderbolt. They weren't just back. They were back together.
But as they stood there, clinging to each other in the middle of the crowded campus, neither of them noticed a student in the distance watching them through a long-range camera lens—the same man who would, in seven years, pull the trigger.
The hunt had already begun.
Would you like me to continue with Chapter 2, or should we refine some details in this chapter first?