Chapter 4: A Grip on Tomorrow

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime noise.

Tristan carried his tray over and jerked his chin at the student sitting beside me. "Swap seats."

The student didn't argue, silently getting up to leave.

Tristan plopped down, slamming his tray onto the table in front of me. "Hey, Emo Girl, are you going to wear that depressed face all day?"

He poked a green pepper on his tray with his fork, though his eyes kept flickering toward me. "You know that linebacker from the other class? He knocked one of our guys' noses bloody during practice. Yesterday after school, the guys and I cornered him. Guess what? The dude pissed his pants! Funny, right?"

He kept talking, casually dropping a rib onto my tray. "Try it. The lunch lady wasn't stingy today, and it's decent meat."

I didn't touch the rib, nor did I look at him.

Tristan tapped the edge of his tray with his fork. "What's with the face? Does the cafeteria suck, or is it just me?"

He kept talking until his voice grew hoarse, but my tray was already empty. I wiped my mouth, stood up, grabbed my tray, and walked away.

"Hey! You're done? That rib—" Tristan's mouth was still full, his words muffled.

I didn't look back, heading straight for the dish return.

Just as I neared the window, a figure rose from a nearby table and followed me. His head was down, his back slightly hunched, shoulders drawn in, and his jersey was still stained.

Julian.

I could feel him behind me, maintaining a careful distance—not too close, but not too far.

The next second, a sneaker-clad foot shot out from behind, tripping him.

Caught off guard, Julian lost his balance and was about to sprawl face-first onto the greasy floor. The students nearby were already starting to laugh in anticipation.

I instinctively reached out an arm to catch him—an instinct honed over seven resets.

As my hand moved, I froze. A sudden wave of futility washed over me, and I started to pull back.

But his hand grabbed my wrist faster. His grip was cold, bony, and surprisingly tight.

Julian used my slight support to steady himself, and the would-be audience groaned in disappointment.

I stared at him, completely stunned.

Still holding my wrist, Julian looked up. His pitch-brown eyes were startlingly bright, filled with a desperate hope.

His lips moved slightly, slowly forming words that were almost drowned out by the cafeteria noise.

"...Thank... you..."

Then Tristan rushed over, his tray still half-full. "The hell are you doing?"

His gaze locked onto Julian's hand gripping my wrist, and his expression darkened. "Let go!"

Julian didn't let go. He stood perfectly still, his eyes locked on me with a heavy, unyielding gaze.

"M... Maya." His voice was low, raspy, and trembling. "I... I think I remember... a lot."

"In the future... we have... a baby, right?"