CHAPTER 20: 37 Times
2037 Words
The question wouldn't leave my mind.
Why was Michael the only one who remembered everything?
We stood in the empty hallway.
The paper was still in my hand.
Michael wasn't looking at me anymore.
He was looking at the floor.
“Michael.”
Nothing.
“Michael.”
He finally looked up.
“Don't ask.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't an answer.”
“I know.”
“You told me to trust you.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
He closed his eyes.
For a few seconds, I thought he would walk away.
Instead, he whispered:
“Because I was never supposed to forget.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
Michael leaned against the wall.
“The resets weren't designed to erase everyone.”
“Then who were they designed to erase?”
“You.”
I froze.
“Only me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were the source.”
I shook my head.
“Source of what?”
“The memories.”
I didn't understand.
He continued.
“Every time you remembered another timeline, the world became unstable.”
“So the resets erased me.”
“Yes.”
“But why did everyone else forget?”
“Because they were connected to you.”
I looked at him.
“And you?”
“I wasn't.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because I chose not to be.”
---
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
Michael took a breath.
“The first time the reset happened, I realized something.”
“What?”
“I could remember.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn't emotionally connected to the equation yet.”
I frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It didn't make sense to me either.”
He continued.
“But after the second reset, I remembered more.”
“Then the third?”
“Everything.”
I swallowed.
“So you remembered every reset?”
“Yes.”
“Thirty-seven?”
“Yes.”
I felt dizzy.
“That's impossible.”
“It should be.”
“But it happened.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“Then why didn't you stop it?”
Michael looked away.
“I tried.”
“How many times?”
“Thirty-six.”
I froze.
“Thirty-six?”
“The thirty-seventh was the only one where I stopped trying to fix the equation.”
“Why?”
“Because I realized the equation wasn't broken.”
He looked at me.
“I was.”
---
I didn't know what to say.
Michael continued.
“Every reset, I tried to find a way to keep you alive.”
“And?”
“I failed.”
“Every time?”
“Yes.”
“Then what changed?”
“You.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“You stopped fighting the reset.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
“You accepted it?”
“No.”
He smiled sadly.
“You chose to forget.”
I remembered the rain.
My older self.
Ezekiel.
The notebook.
My own voice.
Make me forget.
Michael continued.
“You thought forgetting would stop the cycle.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“Then why did you let me?”
“Because you were exhausted.”
He looked at me.
“You had died thirty-six times.”
I stopped breathing.
“Thirty-six…”
“Yes.”
“I died thirty-six times?”
Michael nodded.
“And you remembered every single one?”
“Yes.”
I felt tears forming.
“How did you survive that?”
He smiled.
“I didn't.”
---
I looked at him.
“What?”
“I survived physically.”
He touched his chest.
“But not completely.”
I understood.
The boy standing in front of me wasn't simply carrying memories.
He was carrying thirty-seven versions of grief.
Thirty-seven versions of losing me.
Thirty-seven versions of watching everything fall apart.
And suddenly, the mysterious Observer didn't seem mysterious anymore.
He seemed tired.
So tired.
I whispered:
“I'm sorry.”
Michael shook his head.
“Don't.”
“But—”
“You didn't do this to me.”
“I kept dying.”
“And I kept choosing to remember.”
He smiled.
“That was my choice.”
---
We sat on the floor.
The hallway was quiet.
For the first time, Michael looked like the boy from the old photograph.
Not the Observer.
Not the protector.
Just Michael.
My friend.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever hate me?”
He thought for a long time.
“Yes.”
My heart hurt.
“For what?”
“For making me care.”
I looked at him.
He smiled sadly.
“In the first few resets, I blamed you.”
“Why?”
“Because you were always at the center of everything.”
He laughed quietly.
“Every time I tried to save you, I lost someone else.”
“Who?”
“Sometimes Ezekiel.”
“Sometimes Josh.”
“Sometimes me.”
I swallowed.
“Sometimes all of us.”
He looked at me.
“But eventually I realized something.”
“What?”
“You weren't the problem.”
“Then what was?”
“The idea that someone had to win.”
I frowned.
“Win what?”
“The equation.”
He looked toward the window.
“Everyone thought the equation had a correct answer.”
I nodded.
“Josh thought he was the answer.”
“Ezekiel thought love was the answer.”
“And you?”
“I thought survival was the answer.”
He looked at me.
“We were all wrong.”
---
I smiled sadly.
“So what is the answer?”
Michael looked at me.
“You.”
I frowned.
“That's what the notebook said.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Not because you're the answer.”
“Then why?”
“Because you're the one solving it.”
I understood.
The equation wasn't about choosing a person.
It was about becoming the person capable of choosing.
---
Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Michael stood.
“Someone's coming.”
I looked toward the corridor.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
We waited.
A figure appeared.
Ezekiel.
He stopped when he saw us.
“Elle.”
I sighed in relief.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you.”
He looked at Michael.
“Are you okay?”
Michael nodded.
“Yeah.”
Ezekiel looked at me.
“You're not.”
I laughed.
“I'm fine.”
“You're crying.”
I wiped my face.
“That's unrelated.”
He smiled.
“Sure.”
He sat beside us.
“What happened?”
Michael looked at him.
“Thirty-seven.”
Ezekiel went silent.
“You told her?”
Michael nodded.
I looked between them.
“You both knew?”
Ezekiel looked down.
“Not all of it.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
I frowned.
“You knew Michael remembered everything?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Michael asked us not to.”
I looked at Michael.
“You made everyone keep secrets from me.”
He looked guilty.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because every time you remembered too much…”
He paused.
“You died.”
Ezekiel looked at me.
“And none of us wanted to watch that again.”
---
I looked at both of them.
For the first time, I understood.
They weren't keeping secrets because they didn't trust me.
They were keeping secrets because they were afraid of losing me.
But that didn't make it right.
“You don't get to decide what I can handle.”
Michael nodded.
“I know.”
“From now on…”
I looked at both of them.
“No more secrets.”
Ezekiel nodded.
Michael hesitated.
Then nodded too.
“Okay.”
I smiled.
“Good.”
Then the lights flickered.
All three of us looked up.
The hallway went dark.
A voice whispered:
“Promises are dangerous.”
Michael immediately stood.
“Again?”
The voice laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
The emergency lights turned on.
A message appeared on the wall.
Written in black ink.
THIRTY-SEVEN RESETS.
Then another line appeared.
THIRTY-SEVEN FAILURES.
Another.
THIRTY-SEVEN VERSIONS OF ELLE.
I stared.
Then the final line appeared.
BUT ONLY ONE ORIGINAL.
My heart stopped.
Michael whispered:
“No.”
Ezekiel looked at him.
“What?”
Michael stepped backward.
“I've never seen that before.”
The words changed.
THE ORIGINAL ELLE IS STILL ALIVE.
I felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Michael shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Then:
SHE IS WAITING.
The wall went blank.
---
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Ezekiel said:
“Michael.”
“What?”
“You said there were thirty-seven resets.”
“Yes.”
“Then how can there be an original Elle?”
Michael stared at the wall.
“I don't know.”
I felt my heartbeat getting faster.
“What if…”
They both looked at me.
“What if I'm not the original?”
Silence.
Michael's face changed.
“Elle…”
“What if I'm just another version?”
Ezekiel shook his head.
“No.”
“But you don't know.”
“I know you.”
“That doesn't prove anything.”
“It proves enough.”
Michael suddenly stepped forward.
“Stop.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because that's exactly what he wants.”
“Who?”
“The Observer.”
Michael pointed at the wall.
“He wants you to question whether you're real.”
I froze.
“Why?”
“Because if you stop believing you're the original…”
He swallowed.
“…you'll stop fighting for this timeline.”
The hallway went silent.
Then my phone vibrated.
One message.
«Good. You're finally asking the right question.»
Another appeared.
«Are you really Elle?»
Then another.
«Or are you just the thirty-eighth?»
My hands started shaking.
Ezekiel took my phone.
“Don't read anymore.”
But it was too late.
A final message appeared.
«Come find the original.»
Then:
«She knows what happened to you.»
I looked at Michael.
“Where?”
He stared at the phone.
“I don't know.”
“Then we'll find her.”
“Elle—”
“No.”
I stood.
“If there is an original version of me…”
I looked at Ezekiel.
Then Michael.
“…I want to meet her.”
Michael shook his head.
“You don't understand what you're asking.”
“Then explain.”
He looked terrified.
“The original Elle…”
He stopped.
“She's the reason the resets started.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Michael looked at me.
“And if she's still alive…”
His voice dropped.
“Then she isn't waiting for you to find her.”
He swallowed.
“She is waiting for you to replace her.”
I couldn't breathe.
The hallway seemed to tilt.
Thirty-seven resets.
Thirty-seven versions.
One original.
And now—
someone wanted me to replace her.
I looked at Michael.
“Then we find her first.”
Ezekiel stood beside me.
“I'll come.”
Michael hesitated.
Then smiled faintly.
“Of course you will.”
I looked at him.
“And you?”
He sighed.
“I've already followed you through thirty-seven timelines.”
He stood.
“What's one more?”
For the first time that day, I laughed.
But none of us noticed the small screen at the end of the hallway.
A security monitor.
On it—
someone was watching us.
A girl.
She looked exactly like me.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
She leaned closer to the screen.
And whispered:
“Finally.”
Then she smiled.
“Come find me, Elle.”
The screen went black.
And beneath it, one word appeared:
ORIGINAL.
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