CHAPTER 12: The Things We Almost Remember
2122 Words
The next morning, I woke up with one word stuck in my head.
Love.
I hated it.
Not because I didn't understand what it meant.
Because I did.
At least, I thought I did.
Love was supposed to be simple.
You meet someone.
You like them.
You get closer.
Maybe you fall in love.
Maybe they fall in love with you.
Maybe it works.
Maybe it doesn't.
But apparently, my life had decided that wasn't complicated enough.
Instead, I had an equation.
A magical notebook.
Multiple timelines.
A boy who remembered me.
Another boy who apparently loved me in a life I couldn't remember.
And me—
trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with all of it.
I grabbed my school bag and headed downstairs.
I was halfway through breakfast when my phone vibrated.
Ezekiel:
«You're late.»
I frowned.
I typed back.
«I'm not even at school yet.»
His reply came immediately.
«Exactly.»
I rolled my eyes.
«Why are you waiting for me?»
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
«I don't know.»
I stared at the message.
For some reason, I smiled.
Then I typed:
«Liar.»
His reply:
«Maybe.»
I put my phone down.
Why was I smiling?
I didn't know.
And I didn't want to know.
---
When I arrived at school, Ezekiel was standing near the entrance.
His arms were crossed.
“You're late.”
I looked at the clock.
“I'm two minutes early.”
“You're late for me.”
I stared at him.
“That's not how time works.”
“It should.”
I laughed.
“You're ridiculous.”
“And you're late.”
“I literally just explained—”
He handed me something.
I looked down.
A chocolate bar.
I looked at him.
“What is this?”
“Payment.”
“For what?”
“You ran yesterday.”
“And?”
“You won.”
I smiled.
“You remembered.”
“Of course.”
I took the chocolate.
“Thanks.”
He smiled.
“You're welcome.”
We started walking toward the classroom.
Neither of us said anything.
But somehow, it wasn't awkward.
It felt natural.
Almost too natural.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because I had only known this version of Ezekiel for a short time.
Yet sometimes...
I felt like I had known him forever.
---
During our first class, our teacher returned our papers.
I looked at my score.
Ninety-eight.
I smiled.
Not bad.
Then Ezekiel looked at his.
Ninety-nine.
I immediately turned toward him.
“One point?”
He smiled.
“One point.”
“You're doing this on purpose.”
“How?”
“By always getting one point higher.”
He laughed.
“Maybe you're just one point behind.”
I glared at him.
“I'll beat you.”
“I know.”
“You sound too confident.”
“I've heard you say that before.”
I froze.
He froze too.
Neither of us spoke.
Then I asked quietly:
“Where?”
He looked down.
“Another classroom.”
“When?”
“Another life.”
I swallowed.
“Tell me about it.”
He shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to know me first.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He smiled.
“Because I don't want you to like a memory.”
My heart skipped.
“I want you to like me.”
I didn't know what to say.
So I looked away.
But I couldn't stop smiling.
---
The Debate
The debate competition was that afternoon.
The auditorium was full.
Students from different sections filled the seats.
Teachers stood near the stage.
I could feel my hands shaking.
Not because I was afraid of speaking.
I had spoken in front of people before.
I was nervous because Ezekiel was sitting across from me.
He caught me looking.
“You nervous?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I'm not.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
I looked down.
He was right.
I laughed nervously.
“Okay. Maybe a little.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“It means you care.”
I looked at him.
“Do you?”
He nodded.
“About the debate?”
“About beating you.”
I laughed.
“Of course.”
The moderator stepped onto the stage.
“Today's topic…”
The screen behind her lit up.
IS SUCCESS MEASURED BY ACHIEVEMENT OR BY THE IMPACT A PERSON LEAVES ON OTHERS?
I took a deep breath.
The competition began.
---
I spoke first.
“Success is not simply about being remembered. It is about what you accomplish.”
I talked about goals.
Discipline.
Persistence.
The countless hours people spend improving themselves.
I talked about how dreams require action.
How talent means nothing without effort.
When I finished, the audience applauded.
Then Ezekiel stood.
He looked at me.
Not at the audience.
At me.
“Achievement matters.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He continued.
“But achievement without meaning is empty.”
The room became quiet.
He spoke about people who sacrifice everything for success.
People who reach the top only to realize they have nobody beside them.
He spoke about influence.
Kindness.
Legacy.
People.
Then he said:
“You can have the highest score in the room…”
He looked directly at me.
“…and still fail the person sitting beside you.”
My heart stopped.
I knew that wasn't part of the debate.
That was for me.
I felt something inside my chest tighten.
I stood.
“My opponent believes success is about the people you leave behind.”
I looked at him.
“But what if you can't help everyone?”
The room became silent.
“What if choosing one person means losing another?”
Ezekiel's expression changed.
For a moment—
it wasn't a debate anymore.
It was a conversation between two people who knew too much about each other.
He answered:
“Then maybe the goal isn't choosing who to lose.”
I swallowed.
“Then what is it?”
He looked at me.
“Finding a way where nobody has to.”
My heart stopped.
The audience was silent.
I didn't know whether he was still talking about success.
Or us.
---
We continued.
Argument after argument.
Point after point.
Neither of us gave in.
But something strange happened.
We stopped trying to defeat each other.
We started trying to understand each other.
And somehow...
that made the debate stronger.
When the final bell rang, the audience erupted into applause.
We returned to our seats.
I looked at him.
“You're good.”
He smiled.
“So are you.”
“That's not what I wanted to hear.”
“What did you want?”
I smiled.
“I wanted you to admit I'm better.”
He laughed.
“Never.”
---
The judges left to deliberate.
We waited outside the auditorium.
Ezekiel sat on the stairs.
I sat beside him.
For several minutes, we said nothing.
Then he asked:
“Do you remember the first time we debated?”
I looked at him.
“No.”
He smiled.
“You were angry.”
“Why?”
“Because I disagreed with you.”
“That sounds like me.”
“You wouldn't talk to me for three days.”
I laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I brought you chocolate.”
I stared at him.
“You bribed me?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“You forgave me.”
I laughed.
“That sounds familiar.”
He looked at me.
“Because you've done it before.”
I smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“Ezekiel…”
“Hmm?”
“Were we happy?”
He became quiet.
“In that timeline?”
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“For a while.”
My heart sank.
“What happened?”
“You happened.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You always tried to save everyone.”
He looked at me.
“Even when nobody asked you to.”
I looked away.
“That sounds like me.”
“You tried to fix things that couldn't be fixed.”
“And?”
“You succeeded.”
I looked at him.
“You said we were happy.”
“We were.”
“Then why did I ask you to make me forget?”
He didn't answer.
“Ezekiel.”
His eyes became sad.
“Because you couldn't live with what happened after.”
I swallowed.
“What happened?”
“You'll remember.”
“When?”
“When you're ready.”
---
The judges returned.
Everyone gathered.
The moderator held the result.
“After careful deliberation…”
I held my breath.
“The winner is…”
A pause.
“Ezekiel.”
The auditorium erupted.
I smiled.
I wasn't angry.
Not this time.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Then he walked toward me.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
I held out my hand.
“Congratulations.”
He looked at it.
Then shook it.
But instead of letting go immediately—
his fingers stayed around mine.
Just for a second.
Neither of us moved.
Then he let go.
I looked away.
My cheeks felt warm.
What was that?
---
After everyone left, we walked through the empty hallway.
“You're quiet,” Ezekiel said.
“Thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
He stopped.
I turned.
“Don't look so shocked.”
He smiled.
“What are you thinking?”
I took a breath.
“I'm starting to understand why we were rivals.”
“And?”
“And I think I like it.”
He laughed.
“That's good.”
“Why?”
“Because I like it too.”
I smiled.
Then the notebook inside my bag suddenly became hot.
I stopped.
“Wait.”
Ezekiel looked at me.
“What?”
I pulled it out.
The pages were turning by themselves.
Fast.
Then they stopped.
A new equation appeared.
JOSH — 64%
EZEKIEL — 57%
MICHAEL — 0%
ELLE — UNKNOWN
I stared.
Ezekiel looked over my shoulder.
“It's changing.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Then another line appeared.
RIVALRY → TRUST
I looked at him.
The word changed.
TRUST → ATTACHMENT
Then:
ATTACHMENT → ???
The final word wouldn't appear.
Instead, the page showed a question.
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE RIVAL BECOMES THE PERSON YOU RUN TO?
I slowly looked at Ezekiel.
He was already looking at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled.
“You know…”
“What?”
“I think the notebook is asking you a question.”
“What question?”
He stepped closer.
“Who do you look for when everything falls apart?”
I didn't answer.
Because I already knew.
And that realization terrified me.
---
That night, I sat alone in my room.
I opened the notebook.
The equation was still there.
But the numbers were different.
JOSH — 63%
EZEKIEL — 58%
I stared.
Then another message appeared.
THE SECOND VARIABLE IS NO LONGER A RIVAL.
I swallowed.
The next line appeared.
HE IS BECOMING YOUR CONSTANT.
My heart stopped.
Then—
a memory flashed.
Ezekiel.
Older.
Standing in the rain.
His face covered in tears.
His hands were shaking.
And I was standing in front of him.
I heard my own voice.
“If I remember you…”
Ezekiel looked at me.
I continued:
“I'll come back.”
Then he whispered:
“Promise?”
I nodded.
“I promise.”
The memory disappeared.
I gasped.
I couldn't breathe.
I looked at the notebook.
The page had one final sentence.
YOU MADE THAT PROMISE.
Then:
NOW YOU HAVE TO KEEP IT.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, I understood.
Maybe the reset wasn't giving me a second chance to choose who I loved.
Maybe it was giving me a chance to understand why I loved them.
Josh was the love I thought I wanted.
Ezekiel was the person who challenged me to become better.
And somewhere between rivalry and friendship...
something had started growing.
Something I wasn't ready to name.
But there was one thing I knew.
The next time Ezekiel asked me to remember—
I would.
Even if the truth hurt.
Even if it changed everything.
Because somewhere in another timeline...
I had promised him I would come back.
And maybe—
just maybe—
I had finally come back.
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