The Last Version Of Us

He Woke Up Loving a Woman He Hadn’t Met Yet Isaac Daramola woke up already grieving. That was how he knew it had happened again. The ceiling above him was the same matte white. The faint crack shaped like a lightning bolt still cut across the corner near the smoke detector. His phone buzzed on the bedside table. 6:02 AM. Tuesday. The same Tuesday. His chest tightened. He didn’t need to check the date. He already remembered how this day ended. Elena Quaye dies at 9:47 PM. He sat up slowly, pressing his palms into his eyes until sparks of light burst behind them. This was the sixth version. Or seventh. He wasn’t sure anymore. The memories stacked strangely — not layered like dreams, but solid. Real. He could still feel the warmth of her fingers from the version where they held hands while running through the rain. He could still hear her laugh from the version where she didn’t believe him until the gunshot rang out. In every memory, she looked at him differently at the end. Confused, hurt, or loving but always afraid. He swung his legs off the bed and forced himself to breathe. Today, he would do it differently. He first met Elena at 11:18 AM. He knew the time because he had watched it happen repeatedly. She would step out of Adom Café, balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear, arguing gently with someone about a design deadline. Her curls would be pinned up messily, a pencil stuck through them. She would laugh mid-sentence, distracted and radiant. And then, a black SUV would jump the curb. Version one: It hit her. Version two: He reached her in time, but the driver stepped out with a gun. Version three: He got her inside the café. The explosion came instead. Version four: She survived the day — but died at night. Every future rearranged itself to reach the same ending at 9:47 PM. He checked his phone. No new scars. No physical evidence that he had lived these tomorrows before. That was the terrifying part. Only he remembered. By 10:55 AM, he was already outside the café. He never approached her too early. It changed variables too aggressively. He leaned against a lamppost, heart hammering. It was 11:18 AM, right on time. She stepped out. Brown skin glowing under late-morning sun, creame blouse, fitted trousers, pencil in hair; exactly as remembered. Except— She wasn’t on the phone. She paused in the doorway and looked straight at him. Directly at him. His breath caught. In all previous versions, she never noticed him first. She frowned slightly. Not fear. Recognition. No. Impossible. She started walking toward him. Every instinct screamed to run. To reset the pattern. But he stayed. “You’re staring,” she said when she reached him. Her voice. God. He had heard it whisper his name in futures that never existed. “Sorry,” he managed. “I think I—” Her eyes narrowed. “Have we met?” The question struck him like a blow. “No,” he said too quickly. Because if she was remembering too— That would change everything. “You look familiar,” she murmured. In version five, she had said those same words. But later, much later, when she was bleeding. He swallowed. “You don’t know me,” he said softly. “But I know something about today.” She folded her arms. “Oh? Are you about to tell me I dropped something?” “No.” He glanced at the road. It was 11:20. The SUV should appear in three minutes. “You’re in danger.” She blinked. “Okay,” she said slowly. “You’re either rehearsing for a very bad pickup line, or you need help.” He stepped closer. “Black SUV. It’s coming. You need to go back inside. Now.” Her jaw tightened. “I don’t even know your name.” “Isaac.” “Isaac,” she repeated cautiously. “Do you often approach women with vehicle-based prophecies?” He almost laughed. Almost. “It’s not a prophecy. It may sound like one, but it’s a memory.” Silence. She studied him, assessing his intelligence. “You’re serious”, she enquired. “Yes”, he replied A distant engine revved. His pulse spiked. “Please,” he whispered. “Just step inside.” Her eyes flickered toward the street. And then—The SUV appeared, too fast. Her head snapped back to him. The vehicle mounted the curb. This time, He grabbed her waist before impact. They tumbled backward as the SUV crushed the café’s outdoor table instead of her spine. Glass shattered. People screamed. He shielded her head as debris rained down. For three seconds, everything froze. The SUV driver didn’t exit. Didn’t fire a weapon. Didn’t explode. Instead— The engine died. The driver looked confused. Like he didn’t understand why he was there. Then he reversed violently and sped away. No gun, no explosion, no death. Isaac’s mind reeled. This hadn’t happened before. Elena shoved him off. “What the hell—?!” she gasped. He was breathing hard. “You’re alive.” “That’s your concern?!” He stared at her. She was shaking, but alive. The timeline had shifted. She looked at him with something new now. Not annoyance, not fear, calculation. “You knew,” she said quietly. “Yes.” “How?” He hesitated. The truth always made her pull away. But lies collapsed the timeline worse. “I wake up remembering tomorrow,” he said. There it was. Her face changed — not disbelief. Recognition. “I had a dream about you last night,” she whispered. His heart stopped. “What?” “You were standing exactly there.” She pointed. “Watching me.” Cold spread through his limbs. That had never happened before. “You said,” she continued slowly, “that I needed to trust you.” He felt reality tilt. In every previous version, she had no prior awareness. Now— The future was bleeding backward. “You’re not crazy,” she said suddenly, more to herself than to him. A chill crept up his spine. “Why would you say that?” She met his eyes. “Because I’ve been seeing flashes too.” The world seemed to narrow around them. “Flashes of what?” he asked. Her voice dropped. “Of dying.” His stomach twisted. “What time?” he whispered. She hesitated. Then: “9:47 PM.” The air vanished from his lungs. Somewhere deep inside him, something cracked. This wasn’t just his burden anymore. The day wasn’t resetting cleanly. It was unraveling. And for the first time— He wasn’t the only one who remembered tomorrow. END OF CHAPTER ONE