Love Beyond Time

CHAPTER TWO: Déjà Vu

Lena's POV

I couldn't sleep.

For hours, I had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while the events I couldn't explain played over and over again in my mind.

I died.

I was certain of it.

I heard the gunshot.

I felt the unbearable pain when the bullet pierced my chest.

I remembered the warmth of the blood beneath my clothes. I remembered my knees giving out. I remembered the cold pavement beneath me.

And most of all...

I remembered Ethan's arms catching me as my consciousness slowly faded away.

His voice.

His warmth.

His face.

And that smile.

I shivered.

Why was I remembering his smile?

I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to remember what happened after that.

But every time I tried, it was as if a thick fog covered my memories.

There was something there.

Something important.

Something I desperately needed to remember.

But the harder I tried to reach it, the farther away it seemed.

I pressed my fingers against my chest.

There was no wound.

No blood.

Nothing.

Just smooth skin beneath my fingertips.

Yet I could still feel the pain.

It was almost as if my body remembered something my mind had forgotten.

I slowly opened my eyes.

The room was dark.

Moonlight slipped through the curtains, painting pale lines across the floor.

Everything looked familiar.

My bed.

My desk.

The small lamp beside my books.

The photographs on my wall.

My life.

The life I was supposed to have lost.

I swallowed hard.

How was I here?

How was I alive?

And why had I been given another chance?

I turned my head toward the clock.

2:37 AM.

My breath caught.

The exact same time.

I didn't know why, but something pulled my eyes toward it.

I stared at the numbers.

2:37.

2:37.

2:37.

A strange feeling crawled beneath my skin.

Then—

A flash.

Rain.

Heavy rain falling against the pavement.

A dark alley.

A gun.

Someone running.

And a voice.

"Run, Lena!"

I gasped and sat upright.

My heart pounded violently against my ribs.

"Who...?"

My voice trembled.

Who said that?

I closed my eyes again.

I tried to picture the person.

But nothing came.

No face.

No name.

Only a voice.

Desperate.

Terrified.

And somehow familiar.

I pulled my knees toward my chest.

"Who were you?"

Silence answered me.

I stayed awake until morning.

The next day, I forced myself to continue living a normal life.

Or at least, I tried to.

I got dressed for school.

I ate breakfast.

I packed my bag.

I smiled at my mother when she asked if I had slept well.

"Yeah," I lied.

She looked at me suspiciously.

"You look pale."

"I'm just tired."

She nodded, apparently satisfied with my answer.

But I wasn't tired.

I was terrified.

Because somewhere inside me, I knew something had changed.

The moment I stepped outside, the world felt strangely familiar.

Too familiar.

As I walked toward school, I found myself remembering things before they happened.

A woman would drop her umbrella near the corner.

A motorcycle would speed past me.

A little boy would run across the street chasing a red ball.

I knew it before each thing happened.

And then

It happened.

Exactly as I remembered.

I stopped walking.

My heart began beating faster.

No.

It couldn't be possible.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.

I continued walking.

When I reached the school hallway, I heard laughter coming from the other side.

I knew what was coming.

A student would turn the corner too quickly.

He would bump into the locker.

His books would fall.

Three.

Two.

One.

A loud crash echoed through the hallway.

The boy stumbled backward.

His books scattered across the floor.

My eyes widened.

I saw this.

I knew this.

Then a teacher walked past.

Five seconds later, another teacher came running after her, complaining about being late for class.

Again.

Exactly as I remembered.

Then, from somewhere above me

A book fell from the second floor.

It landed near my feet.

I stared at it.

My hands began to shake.

This wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a coincidence.

It wasn't Déjà vu.

I was remembering the future.

Or perhaps...

I was remembering my past.

The past hasn't happened yet.

I slowly picked up the book.

My mind raced.

I had really gone back.

Somehow, impossibly, I had returned to the past.

Two months before the night I died.

Two months before the gunshot.

Two months before the alley.

Two months before everything ended.

And if I had truly been given a second chance...

Then maybe I could change what happened.

Maybe I could save myself.

Maybe I could prevent the murder.

Maybe I could live.

For the first time since waking up, hope began to grow inside me.

But hope was quickly replaced by another thought.

What if changing the future had consequences?

I pushed the thought away.

I didn't care.

I had already died once.

I wasn't going to let it happen again.

"Lena?"

I froze.

I knew that voice.

My fingers tightened around the book.

I slowly turned around.

Ethan.

He stood a few feet away from me, one hand holding the strap of his backpack.

He smiled.

The same smile.

The same face.

The same eyes.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

My mind immediately went back to that night.

The rain.

The gunshot.

The blood.

His arms around me.

That smile.

I took a small step backward.

His smile slowly faded.

"Are you okay?"

I forced myself to nod.

"Yeah."

My voice came out weak.

He walked a little closer.

"I've been calling you for a while."

"Sorry."

He tilted his head, studying me.

"You seem distracted."

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

There was nothing unusual about him.

He looked exactly the way I remembered.

Kind.

Gentle.

Caring.

The person who had always been there for me.

The person I loved.

So why was my heart screaming at me to stay away?

"I didn't sleep much," I said.

Concern immediately appeared in his eyes.

"Nightmare?"

My stomach twisted.

"A nightmare?"

He nodded.

"You look like you saw a ghost."

I almost laughed.

If only he knew.

I'd seen something much worse than a ghost.

I'd seen my own death.

"No," I whispered. "Just a strange dream."

"What kind of dream?"

I hesitated.

Should I tell him?

Should I tell him that I remembered dying?

That I had gone back in time?

That I knew something terrible was coming?

No.

I couldn't.

Not yet.

"I don't remember."

He stared at me for a moment.

Then he smiled.

"Maybe you just need some rest."

I nodded.

"Maybe."

He reached out, as if he was going to touch my shoulder.

I instinctively stepped back.

His hand stopped in midair.

For a brief moment, something changed in his expression.

It was so quick that I almost missed it.

Surprise.

Then the concern returned.

"Did I scare you?"

"No."

I immediately shook my head.

"I'm sorry. I just..."

I didn't know what to say.

His eyes remained fixed on me.

"You've been acting strange since yesterday."

I looked away.

"I've just been stressed."

"About what?"

I remained silent.

Because how could I tell him?

I'm scared because I remember you holding me while I died.

The words stayed trapped inside my mind.

Ethan sighed.

"Okay. You don't have to tell me."

He smiled again.

And there it was.

That smile.

Something inside me tightened.

I didn't know why.

But suddenly, I remembered the voice from the night before.

*Run, Lena!*

Who had shouted that?

Was it Ethan?

Was it someone else?

Why couldn't I remember?

I looked into Ethan's eyes.

For the first time, I noticed something I'd never noticed before.

There was darkness behind them.

Or maybe I was imagining it.

Maybe my fear was making me suspicious of the person I loved.

"Lena?"

I blinked.

He was staring at me.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I forced a smile.

"I'm fine."

Another lie.

He smiled back.

"Good."

Then he walked beside me.

We continued down the hallway together.

Everyone around us laughed and talked.

Students rushed to their classrooms.

Teachers carried stacks of papers.

Everything seemed normal.

But I couldn't stop thinking about the night I died.

And the strange feeling that followed me whenever Ethan was near.

At lunch, I sat alone.

I opened my notebook and wrote down everything I remembered.

2:37 AM.

Rain.

Dark alley.

Gunshot.

Ethan.

I stared at his name.

Then I wrote another sentence.

*I died two months from now.*

My hand stopped.

I stared at the words.

They looked insane.

I crossed them out.

Then I wrote them again.

This time, I added:

*I have to find out who killed me.*

I underlined it.

If I couldn't remember the truth, then I would find it.

I would follow every clue.

Every strange memory.

Every déjà vu.

I would find out what happened that night.

And I would stop it.

I closed my notebook.

But before I could put it away, someone sat across from me.

Ethan.

I looked up.

"You've been writing a lot lately."

I quickly closed the notebook.

"Just school stuff."

He smiled.

"Can I see?"

"No."

The answer came out too quickly.

His expression changed for half a second.

Then he chuckled.

"Okay. Secret."

I smiled nervously.

"Something like that."

He leaned back.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he asked softly,

"Do you still trust me?"

My heart stopped.

I stared at him.

"Why would you ask that?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know."

He smiled.

"But lately, it feels like you're looking at me differently."

I couldn't answer.

Because he was right.

I was looking at him differently.

I was trying to see something I'd never noticed before.

A clue.

A warning.

A reason.

Anything.

But all I could see was the man I loved.

The man I once believed would protect me.

The man whose arms had caught me when I fell.

The man whose face was the last thing I remembered.

I looked away.

"I trust you."

The words came out quietly.

But deep inside...

I wasn't sure anymore.

That night, I stood in front of my bedroom window.

Rain began falling outside.

My stomach dropped.

Rain.

The same sound.

The same cold feeling.

I closed my eyes.

And suddenly—

Another memory flashed through my mind.

The alley.

The gun.

Ethan.

His hands.

His smile.

Then a voice whispered beside my ear.

Not the same voice as before.

A different one.

So faint, it was almost impossible to hear.

*"You shouldn't have trusted him."*

My eyes flew open.

I immediately stepped away from the window.

My heart pounded violently against my chest.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

Only the sound of the rain.

I looked toward the clock.

2:37 AM.

Again.

The same time.

The same number.

And suddenly, I understood something.

My death wasn't just a memory.

It was a warning.

And whoever sent me back...

wanted me to discover the truth.

I looked down at my hands.

They were trembling.

Maybe I wasn't brought back to save Ethan.

Maybe I wasn't brought back to stop the killer.

Maybe I was brought back because I had trusted the wrong person.

My eyes slowly filled with tears.

And for the first time since I woke up in the past, I allowed myself to consider the thoughts I'd been desperately trying to push away.

What if my death wasn't an accident?

What if the person I'd been trying so desperately to save...

was never the victim?

What if the person I loved...

was the reason I died?

I swallowed hard.

"No..."

I whispered.

I didn't want to believe it.

I couldn't.

Because if it was true...

then the man I was trying to save from death...

was the same man I should have been running from.

And somewhere deep inside my forgotten memories...

I already knew the truth.

I just couldn't remember it yet.