I died knowing exactly who betrayed me. I woke up with seven days to stop it from happening again. Three years into the apocalypse, I was hunted through a dead city, betrayed by the people I trusted, and executed by the man I once believed would protect me. Then I opened my eyes in my old bed. My mother was alive. My phone showed a date I hadn't seen in years. The world still had seven days left. I knew things nobody else alive could know. Which streets would burn first. Which people would turn on their own neighbors. Which government bunker held enough supplies to keep my family breathing through the first winter. I thought that knowledge made me untouchable. I was wrong. Before I could finish preparing, a message arrived from a number that didn't exist. YOU CAME BACK TOO. Then I found him. Kaelith Veyron, the man I remembered watching me die, standing very much alive in a bunker that should have still been sealed. He remembers the apocalypse too. But his memories don't match mine. In his version, the outbreak starts somewhere else entirely, days earlier than I ever counted. Now the infected are evolving faster than they should. A black symbol is appearing in places it has no right to be. And a message has shown up written in my own handwriting, a sentence I never wrote: I REMEMBER THE THIRD TIMELINE. Someone is rewriting the future I sacrificed everything to memorize. I have six days left to find out who, and whether the man beside me is the reason I died once already, or the only reason I might survive this time. Because a second chance was never a gift. It was a warning.