—a jolt.
Anli gasped. Her eyes flew open. She was sitting upright, her heart hammering, her skin slick with sweat. Around her, the world resolved into focus: a black cab's worn leather seats, the smell of old coffee and air freshener, the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror watching her with concern.
"You alright there, love?" he asked. "You went white as a sheet."
Anli stared at him. She knew this cab. She knew this route. They were on the King's Road, heading east, the afternoon sun slanting through the windows. But that was impossible. It had been night. It had been raining. She had—
Her phone buzzed. She looked down at the screen.
Reminder: Mum's Wedding. 2 PM. Chelsea Register Office.
The date stared up at her. A date from a year ago. A date that had already happened, already passed, already become memory.
"What..." she whispered. "What is this?"
And then, in her vision, something appeared. A shimmering interface, translucent blue, hovering in the air before her like a screen from a science fiction film. Words formed, crisp and clear:
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
[BIOMETRIC SCAN COMPLETE]
[SUBJECT: ANLI SHARMA]
[STATUS: CRITICAL DAMAGE DETECTED. HOST BODY TERMINATED.]
[ALTERNATE TIMELINE PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.]
[WELCOME TO THE NEXUS SYSTEM.]
Anli's breath caught. She tried to blink the interface away, but it remained, pulsing gently with soft blue light.
[YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED A SECOND CHANCE.]
[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: ALTER TIMELINE. PREVENT MATERNAL DEATH. NEUTRALIZE THREAT: MARCUS WORTHING.]
[CHEAT CODE UNLOCKED: 20/20 FORESIGHT]
[YOU RETAIN FULL MEMORY OF THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE. USE THIS KNOWLEDGE WISELY.]
[ADDITIONAL RESOURCES AVAILABLE: FINANCIAL DATA ACCESS. FUTURE TREND ANALYSIS. WEAKNESS IDENTIFICATION PROTOCOL.]
[BEGIN MISSION?]
[YES] / [NO]
Anli stared at the words. Her hands were shaking. Her entire body was shaking. She looked out the window at the sunlit streets of London, at the people walking their dogs and pushing prams and living their ordinary lives. She looked at her hands—younger hands, she realized. The small scar on her thumb from a paper cut was gone. The calluses from too many hours hunched over a drawing table were fainter.
The cab driver cleared his throat. "Miss? We're nearly there. Chelsea Register Office, right? For the wedding?"
Wedding. Her mother's wedding. The day everything had begun to go wrong. The day Marcus had officially become part of their lives.
Anli looked back at the shimmering interface.
[BEGIN MISSION?]
[YES] / [NO]
She thought of the fall. The pavement rushing up. The darkness.
She thought of her mother's face, so full of hope on this day a year ago.
She thought of Marcus's eyes as he pushed her—cold, empty, utterly without remorse.
And Anli Sharma, who had spent twenty-six years being invisible, being silent, being small, reached out with a hand that didn't tremble and touched the word that would change everything.
[YES]
The interface flashed, then dissolved into motes of light. A final message appeared, burning itself into her memory:
[GOOD LUCK, ANLI. MAKE THEM PAY.]
The cab pulled up outside the register office. Through the window, Anli could see guests arriving—her mother's friends, a few of Marcus's colleagues, flowers everywhere. And there, at the entrance, stood her mother. Meera Sharma. Alive. Radiant. Unaware of the monster she was about to marry.
Anli paid the driver and stepped out of the cab. The afternoon sun warmed her face. The air smelled of flowers and London and possibility.
She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and walked toward her mother.
This time, everything would be different.