Chapter 4: The Locket, the Loop, and the Little Girl
Not lost anymore. Just determined.
I sat up, fists clenched. I wouldn’t let this end here. Not for me. Not for Riley.
I had to find a third way. A way for Riley to live—without losing any version of myself.
There had to be a solution. I refused to believe there wasn’t.
At 1:30 a.m., I left the counter and started searching every corner of the store.
I turned over every box, checked every nook. I was on a mission now, driven by a purpose bigger than myself.
Why did my future self choose this convenience store? Why this exact time? There had to be something I was missing.
The question echoed in my mind with every step. I refused to believe it was random.
I checked every shelf, every drawer. Even lifted the floor tiles under the register.
Dust coated my hands, sweat trickled down my back. I ignored it all, searching for anything out of place.
At 2:20 a.m., I found a small safe hidden in the staff locker.
My heart leapt. I’d never noticed it before. It was old, battered, the kind of thing you’d see in a movie.
Never seen it before. Not part of the store’s standard gear.
I racked my brain, trying to remember if anyone had mentioned it. Nothing. It was like it had appeared just for me.
I tried every code I could think of. My birthday. The last four of my Social. Even Riley’s initials.
The keypad beeped, over and over. I cursed under my breath, frustration mounting.
Nothing. Not a single code.
I slammed my fist against the safe, biting back a scream. Time was running out.
At 2:35 a.m., I gave up on the safe and went back to the counter. Ready for another round.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, took a deep breath, and braced myself. One more round.
Maybe tonight. Maybe this time.
Hope flickered in my chest, stubborn and bright.
2:40 a.m. The familiar footsteps again.
I could almost set my watch by them. The rhythm was burned into my memory.
This time, during the struggle, he seemed more desperate. His moves were rougher.
He was frantic, almost sloppy. The calm precision was gone, replaced by raw, wild energy.
In the middle of the fight, a battered pendant slipped from his collar.
It hit the floor with a soft clink, almost lost in the chaos.
I snatched it up and jumped back, fast.
My fingers closed around it, cold and heavy. I backed away, heart racing.
He panicked, reaching for it. Too late.
For the first time, he looked truly afraid. Not for himself—for what I might see.
I opened the pendant. Inside—a blurry photo of a little girl.
She had dark hair, big eyes, a crooked smile. She looked like she belonged in a family photo on a sunny porch, not trapped in a locket of desperation.
Six or seven. My eyes. My nose. Smiling.
The resemblance was uncanny. I felt a lump rise in my throat. She was mine. Ours.
Riley. My daughter.
The name felt real now. She wasn’t just an idea—she was a person, with hopes and fears and a future worth fighting for.
On the back of the photo, scratched in with a fingernail, was a date: April 23, 2035.
The numbers glimmered faintly, almost worn away. I traced them with my thumb, a chill running through me. That was the day everything changed. The day I would become a father—and maybe, just maybe, the day I could save us all.













