Somethings are Meant to Be

Chapter-11

~Afra~

"Dude ok so listen to me. My plan is to go back to the past and prevent my parents from meeting each other."

"No, it's not good. Maybe they provided a good home, a great life to me with all the money they earn but i also crave peace at home."

"Even better, no other Afra has to go through what I go through every day."

I could only here Afra speak over the phone animatedly. Is this how I look when i talk over the phone. I thought and cringed. Even though I couldn't hear what Sarah was saying I knew her well enough to assume.

"Listen to me so you know how ammu told me their meeting story?"

Ok now this was the thing I was waiting to find out. 'Please Afra of this universe tell the whole story' I mentally begged.

"So yeah, ammu met papa through her best friend as she knew papa through a mutual friend. I plan to break their friendship before she could introduce ammu to papa."

This is definitely me. She even thinks like me—just another genius. I can't help but feel a swell of pride. But, I suppose I shouldn't get too caught up in self-admiration; it might come off as a bit strange.

As she continued to recount every detail of her parents' meeting, I meticulously took notes. My plan was to address the situation, but I also didn't want Afra to endure the same existential crisis that I had gone through. So, I devised a plan to sabotage her code, ensuring she couldn't create the time machine.

I needed to wait for the right moment, and that moment came when Afra finally drifted into sleep. I knew that executing this plan would bring me immense pain, as it meant tearing apart the bond between my mother and her best friend.

The thought of my friendship with Sarah ever ending was almost unbearable, and now I was about to inflict that same heartache on my mother. I didn't have any insight into my father's perspective on this, as he had always kept his thoughts to himself.

Once Afra was sound asleep, I quietly slipped into her bedroom. With a heavy heart, I deleted the entire code from her computer. I didn't stop there; I also erased the secret backup she had meticulously safeguarded. Despite our different living situations, our minds seemed to work in remarkably similar ways.

I then took the diary where she had carefully documented the timeline of her parents' meeting. With a sense of finality, I stepped out onto the balcony. I inputted the date, time, and place, casting a last wistful glance back at her sleeping form. Pressing enter, I watched as the screen went dark, feeling the weight of what I had just done.