Fragments Of Yesterday

2

Andrew sat at his desk, the letter lying face-down on the wooden surface as though it might burn him if he looked at it for too long. He had reread the words again and again the night before, yet the ink seemed to shimmer with new meanings every time. The letter had warned him to watch over Grace, to be cautious of choices that would change her life—and his—in ways he could not yet understand.

The strange familiarity of the handwriting gnawed at him. It wasn’t only that the script looked like his own. It was the tone, the choice of words, the peculiar way sentences curved into one another. It sounded like him. But from the future? That was absurd.

Andrew’s chest tightened. He had tried to brush it off, telling himself it was a prank. But beneath his denial, a quiet current of unease ran. If there was one thing Andrew knew well, it was the cost of being misunderstood.

His fingers drummed against the desk as memories he usually kept buried clawed their way up.

Back in his old school, he had thought life would be simple. He was never the loudest boy in class, nor the type who sought attention. He preferred quiet corners, sketching scenes in his notebook, or walking home alone while the other boys crowded around basketball courts. But then there had been her—Marina.

She wasn’t someone Andrew had ever spoken to much before. She was friendly, yes, always smiling with her group of friends, her laugh carrying across the hallway like windchimes. Andrew had no reason to approach her until he overheard a conversation that changed everything.

It had been after class, when he had gone back to retrieve a forgotten book. From the c***k of the half-closed door, he saw Marina’s boyfriend—Ryan—leaning against a desk with another girl in his arms. Their voices were low, but the words were sharp enough to slice.

“Don’t worry about Marina,” Ryan said. “She’ll never find out. You know you’re the one I actually like.”

Andrew had frozen, his breath caught. The sight was like a stone sinking into his chest. He barely knew Marina, but she didn’t deserve that. No one did. For the rest of the evening, he wrestled with what he should do. Ignore it? Pretend he hadn’t seen? Or tell her the truth and risk everything?

In the end, his conscience won. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone walking around believing in a lie while everyone else turned a blind eye.

So the next day, he tried to talk to her. He waited by the gate, hoping to catch her on her way out. He rehearsed what he would say—Marina, I think you should know something about Ryan… I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. His palms sweated as he saw her figure approach.

But before he could even speak, she gave him a puzzled look. “You’re… Andrew, right? What do you want?”

Her friends clustered around her like a protective wall. The words stuck in his throat. He could feel the weight of their stares, suspicious and mocking. So he blurted it out awkwardly: “It’s about Ryan. I think he’s—he’s not being honest with you.”

Her expression hardened immediately. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw him,” Andrew pressed, his voice trembling. “He was with another girl yesterday. After class.”

Her friends exchanged glances. Marina’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. “So you’ve been following me? Watching us?”

“No! It’s not like that!” Andrew’s heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear himself. “I just… I happened to see—”

But it was too late. Someone must have whispered, someone must have twisted the story, because by the next day the rumors spread like wildfire. Andrew was a stalker. Andrew had been creeping around Marina, making up lies to get her attention.

Teachers looked at him differently. Classmates avoided him. He heard the snickers, the muttered insults behind his back: creep, loser, p*****t.

Ryan, of course, played the role of the outraged boyfriend perfectly, slinging an arm around Marina in the hallway and glaring at Andrew as though daring him to speak again. Marina refused to meet his eyes.

Andrew had never felt so powerless. His good intention had turned into a curse. He hadn’t tried to defend himself too loudly—it only seemed to make things worse. Instead, he bore the weight in silence, withdrawing into himself until the day his parents transferred him to a new school.

Now, sitting in his new classroom, Andrew clenched his fists against the memory. The shame and helplessness still lingered, even though months had passed. He had wanted to do the right thing, but it had only branded him as something he wasn’t.

The letter’s words rang louder in his mind: This time, don’t let yourself repeat the same mistakes. Protect Grace, no matter what.

Grace.

He glanced across the room where she sat, sunlight falling across her hair as she bent over her notebook. She was new here too, though she carried herself differently than he did—open, approachable, as though she could make friends with anyone. Already, people gravitated toward her. She wasn’t like Marina, but the faint echo of familiarity tightened something in Andrew’s chest.

He wondered—was this what the letter meant? Was he being warned not to stay silent, or not to act rashly? He couldn’t tell.

When the final bell rang, Andrew packed his things slowly, letting most of the students rush out before him. He wanted the quiet. Wanted space to think.

The hallway outside was already thinning when he stepped out. That was when he heard it—two voices around the corner, hushed but tense.

“…just don’t tell her yet,” one voice said.

“She’ll find out eventually,” the other replied.

Andrew froze. The voices were familiar, belonging to two boys from his class. He didn’t catch the full conversation, only fragments about meeting someone after school, about “not letting Grace know.”

His pulse quickened. A coincidence? Or the very thing the letter warned him about?

He knew better than to jump to conclusions. He had learned that the hard way. Yet as he stood there, caught between the urge to investigate and the fear of repeating the same mistake, the weight of his past pressed against his ribs.

The letter’s final line echoed again: Don’t let her regret meeting you.

Andrew drew a shaky breath. Whatever this was, he couldn’t ignore it. Not this time.

That night, lying in bed, he turned the letter over in his hands once more. His younger self wanted to trust, to dismiss it all as nonsense. But the part of him scarred by the past knew better. Life rarely gave warnings twice.

He thought of Marina—how she had looked at him with disgust, how the truth had been twisted against him. He couldn’t bear to let something like that happen again, not to Grace, not to himself.

So Andrew made a silent vow in the darkness. This time he would act carefully. He would find out the truth before speaking, no matter what it took. He would protect Grace, even if it meant reopening wounds he thought had healed.

Because if the letter was truly from his future self, then he already knew what failure looked like. And he refused to let it happen again.