Chapter One – The Last Morning
The rain had not yet touched the ground, but the air was heavy with the smell of it—like the world was holding its breath.
Tom sat by the window, knees tucked under his chin, eyes half-focused on the thin slice of road that curved out of sight. The morning was quiet except for the ticking wall clock and the distant hum of his mother's kettle in the kitchen. He didn't blink much anymore when he looked at things. Every time he blinked, the world seemed to change—sometimes in ways no one else could see.
The glass felt cold under his forehead. He could already see it: the road outside bathed in harsh orange light from the streetlamps, rain hammering the windshield of his father's car. His mother's hand gripping the dashboard. His father shouting something—something Ayaan couldn't quite hear—before everything shattered into silence.
He squeezed his eyes shut. The vision stayed.
He didn't want to tell them again. Every time he spoke about "what was coming," his parents would exchange those looks. The soft ones that were supposed to hide fear. His mother would kneel down, cup his face, and tell him he just had a vivid imagination. His father would ruffle his hair and tell him to read fewer mystery books before bed.
But this wasn't imagination. He never imagined things this clearly. The cracks in the windshield, the smell of gasoline, the sirens—he knew them like he knew his own heartbeat.
"Breakfast!" his mother called from the kitchen.
Tom slid down from the window and shuffled toward the dining table, his socks whispering over the floorboards. His father was already there, sipping tea, scrolling through his phone. The same as every morning. The same… except it wasn't.
He sat down. The plate of fried eggs and toast smelled warm and familiar, but his appetite was gone. His fingers picked at the edge of the tablecloth as he watched them—his parents—laughing softly about something he couldn't hear. They were like actors in a scene he'd watched too many times. He wanted to tell them to stay home, to skip the trip. He wanted to grab the car keys and throw them out the window.
But visions were tricky. The more he tried to change them, the more stubborn they seemed to become.
His father reached for his keys.
The rain began to fall.