The Call That Undid Us

"The day after Liam's birthday, he'll get jumped on his way home. He'll get his hand sliced."

Nina didn't even pause. "Got it. I'll be careful."

Click. She hung up.

I slid the phone back in my pocket. It was already past midnight.

Still no sign of Nina or Sasha.

Usually, I'd be pacing like crazy. But tonight? I just brushed my teeth and crashed.

***

Next morning, the house was dead quiet. They hadn't come back.

I didn't feel much—until I noticed my hand. Smooth. No scar. I froze.

Then it hit me. A whole new set of memories crashed in:

Day after my eighteenth birthday, I was heading home like usual when some guy jumped me, waving a knife around like a psycho. Before he could land a hit, Nina showed up—with cops trailing right behind her. They tackled him in seconds.

The past actually changed.

I laughed, half in shock, half in disbelief, tears rolling before I even noticed.

Then my phone lit up. Young Nina again.

I answered, and she burst out, buzzing with adrenaline. "Thank you. I saved him!"

I didn't miss a beat. "Can you save Liam one more time?"

"What's gonna happen? What do I do?"

"Don't confess. Stay away from him. As far away as you can."

Silence. I could picture her face—confused, suspicious. Then came the question. "Why?"

"Because if you two end up together, you'll wreck him."

She shot back, "No way! I like Liam so much! Today he scraped his wrist and I dragged him all over getting it checked. If he sneezes, I panic. If he's even slightly sick, it kills me.

"That guy with the knife? I was shaking so bad, but I still ran straight at him. I had to. He's everything. How could I ever hurt him?"

As she talked, old memories cracked open—like boxes I'd sealed years ago.

Eighteen-year-old Nina looked at me like I was her entire universe.

The Nina I knew at thirty? Her words cut like ice.

I dropped my gaze and exhaled. "People change."

"Then tell me—how exactly do I hurt him in the future?"

I froze. Fingers stiff. My brain flipped through scenes like a glitching movie reel. Too many. I didn't even know where to start.

Then my phone rang again.

I picked up, and someone on the other end was already spiraling. "Mr. Lambert, our department had a team night at a bar in East Avendale. Ms. Reid drank too much. Can you come get her? Oh—and your kid's here too."

Chaos behind them—crashing, yelling, something getting chucked.