The girl who borrowed tomorrow

Every morning, at exactly 6:17 a.m., Amara's phone vibrated. Not 6:16. Not 6:18. Always 6:17. The first time it happened, she was still half asleep. She reached for her phone, expecting a message from one of her classmates or perhaps a school announcement. Instead, she saw a text from an unknown number. GOOD MORNING. YOU HAVE 24 HOURS. She frowned. "Twenty-four hours for what?" she muttered before deleting the message and getting ready for school. The next morning, at exactly 6:17, her phone buzzed again. The same unknown number. The same message. GOOD MORNING. YOU HAVE 24 HOURS. Amara rolled her eyes. "Whoever this is needs a hobby." Without another thought, she blocked the number. She believed that would be the end of it.She was wrong. On the third morning, at exactly 6:17, her phone vibrated once more. Still lying in bed, she unlocked the screen with a yawn. A new message had arrived. Her sleepy expression disappeared instantly. The sender wasn't an unknown number anymore. It was her own phone number. Amara sat upright. Her heart began to pound. She checked her contacts. She checked the message again.There was no mistake. Someone—or something—had just sent a message from her own phone number. A chill ran down her spine. For the first time, she wasn't annoyed. She was curious. Then, exactly twenty-four hours later, another message appeared. This time, it wasn't the same. It read: TODAY, YOU WILL FIND ₦5,000. DON'T SPEND IT.