You have your back!

A normal day for Ethan began like any other as he navigated his commute to the office. Just three months into his new job at one of the country’s most competitive consulting firms, he had settled into a routine. By 7:00 AM, he was bustling around his small apartment, double-checking that he had everything he needed for the day ahead. He had to catch the 7:30 bus; otherwise, he risked being late—or worse, spending 500 bucks on a cab.

As he stepped outside, the cool morning air hit his face, refreshing  yet daunting. He hurried down the crowded sidewalk, surrounded by people in sharp business attire, each lost in their thoughts, mentally preparing for the day. The rhythm of the city pulsed around him, a chaotic symphony of honking horns and hurried footsteps.

Standing in line at the bus stop, Ethan took a moment to observe the faces around him. The scent of fresh coffee drifted through the air, mixed with the faint aroma of pastries from a nearby cafe. To his right, a couple stood closely together, the girl leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder, their quiet intimacy a complete contrast to the bustling crowd. A sudden wave of sadness washed over him as he noticed everyone seemed to be connected, but he felt alone.

Suddenly, with a loud roar, a bus pulled up, its engine revving like a hungry beast. Ethan glanced at the digital signboard: 101. Relief washed over him; it wasn’t his bus. He stepped aside to let the crowd flow in and out, keeping his back turned to the noisy commotion behind him.

Suddenly, without warning, someone bumped into him from behind, causing him to stumble and fall forward onto the pavement. Panic surged through him as he braced himself with his hands, desperately trying to regain his balance. When he finally turned to face the person who had pushed him, he was met with a cold, detached gaze, though there was a hint of concern in their eyes. The stranger quickly walked away, leaving Ethan feeling more alone than ever in the harsh, unforgiving city.

Shaking off the incident, Ethan stood up and brushed the dust from his pants, muttering to himself about the rudeness he had just experienced. Just then, the next bus arrived, its doors whooshing open. He stepped aboard and scanned the interior for a seat.

His eyes landed on an empty spot at the back, a sense of relief washing over him. He approached a middle-aged woman sitting next to it and politely asked, “Excuse me, may I sit here?” She barely acknowledged him, shifting slightly to the right, her head leaning against the window as if trying to slip back into her dream.

Settling into the hard, cushioned seat, Ethan let out a long breath, attempting to shake off the morning's awkwardness. “Thank you,” he said, but his words were met with an unsettling silence. Frustration increased within him, and he felt the urge to confront her—Why couldn’t she just respond, at least with a smile?—but he forced himself to let it go, pulling out his phone to check the messages that buzzed in.

As the bus continued its journey, new faces boarded, each person a different story. Some appeared hopeful, clutching steaming cups of coffee, while others wore expressions of resignation, as if they were ready to surrender to the day's grind. Ethan felt small and alone, a tiny speck in a city that buzzed with life yet felt painfully empty.

As the bus continued its journey, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling of being alone in a hostile city. It seemed like everyone he encountered was either indifferent or downright rude, their cold stares and curt replies cutting through his attempts at friendly conversation. He felt like a stranger in a strange place, with no one to talk to or rely on. The realisation that he had no one to turn to but himself filled him with a sense of dread and isolation.

Ethan's heart skipped a beat as a figure suddenly appeared in front of him. Given the way the city had treated him that morning, he would have normally ignored the stranger. But something about the man's shoes caught his eye. They were the exact same pair of rare red sneakers that Ethan had finally been able to purchase after months of searching, a limited edition that was almost impossible to find. His eyes widened in disbelief. Could it be a coincidence? He looked up, eager to see who was wearing such unique footwear.

 As Ethan looked up, an uncanny familiarity washed over him. The stranger resembled him in some way, as if he were looking into a mirror from a different time. Suddenly, he felt a strange connection, both comforting and unsettling, as if he had known this man for years.

The stranger's posture was eerily familiar, mirroring Ethan's own. His fingers curled around the handle in the exact same way Ethan always did, his index and middle fingers firmly gripping the bar while the other fingers rested gently against it. The stranger's attire was also strikingly similar to Ethan's, a short-sleeved shirt rolled up to three-quarters on the left and slightly above the elbow on the right. Ethan had adopted this style from his elder brother, and it was a small detail that allowed him to move freely while maintaining a relaxed elegance.

It was as if the stranger was trying to emulate him, down to the smallest details. The resemblance was uncanny, and it sent a shiver down Ethan's spine.

Suddenly, the bus's brakes creaked loudly as it pulled to a stop at the next station. Ethan glanced at his watch—still four stops left to his office. When he looked back up, he found himself directly locked in eye contact with the stranger. The man smiled, as if he could hear Ethan’s unvoiced thoughts all this time. In a surprising gesture, the stranger stepped forward, taking Ethan’s hand firmly. “Just trust and follow me,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring.

Ethan was momentarily paralyzed, shock rendering his mind sluggish. He stood up instinctively, his internal voice chastising him, Why are you following him, you idiot? Yet, a strange connection with the stranger stirred something deep within him, beckoning him to follow despite his practical adult instincts urging caution. As he stood, the stranger pulled him from his seat and into the crowd outside the bus.

“Have we met before?” Ethan asked, his voice tinged with confusion, struggling to process the stranger’s sudden appearance and cryptic behaviour.

“You don't need to worry anymore—you have your back,” the stranger replied in a calm but urgent tone, glancing nervously around the crowd as if trying to evade someone. “I don’t have much time left.”

“What do you mean? Who are you?” Ethan’s confusion only deepened.

“Go straight to your office. Take the subway train.” The stranger’s voice shifted into a commanding tone as he turned abruptly and began to disappear into the sea of people.

Before the stranger vanished, Ethan’s eyes drifted back to his shoes—the same red sneakers. And then, something made Ethan’s heart pound even faster: a distinct mark on the back of the stranger’s shoes. Two crossed swords, with “Ethan” written underneath in small, deliberate lettering. The exact mark Ethan had carved into his own sneakers.

“That’s… not possible,” Ethan whispered, barely hearing his own voice.

A sharp bus horn jolted him back to reality, the chaos of the city snapping into focus. The stranger was gone, swallowed by the sea of people. Everything seemed normal again, except for the lingering sense that something extraordinary had just happened.

"Wait!" Ethan shouted, leaping forward, desperately trying to catch another glimpse of the man. But it was too late. The stranger had vanished into the crowd.

Frozen, Ethan replayed the stranger’s words in his head: Take the subway. The shoes. The mark. It made no sense. He glanced at his watch—he was running late. With a sigh, he chose to follow the advice. He would take the subway, and maybe, somehow, he could make sense of this bizarre encounter.

The subway ride passed in a blur. Ethan’s mind churned, replaying the events. By the time he arrived at his office, the confusion still clouded his thoughts. As he tagged in his ID and walked to his cubicle, he noticed his colleagues huddled around the large TV screen. Their faces were pale with concern.

“There you are, Ethan. Did you see the news?” asked Edward, his best friend at work.

Ethan pushed through the crowd to get a better look. On the screen was the face of the woman who had been sitting next to him on the bus. His heart froze as the headline flashed across the screen: Bomb Blast on Bus 102—the very bus he had been on.

“She… she was carrying a bomb?” Ethan whispered to himself, numbness spreading through his body.

Everything started to click into place—the stranger, the urgency, the command to get off the bus. But who was that man? How did he know? Why had he saved only him? His mind raced with questions faster than he could process.

Stumbling back to his desk, Ethan replayed the stranger's cryptic message: "You don't need to worry anymore—you have your back." The phrase echoed in his mind, growing louder with each repetition. Was that man… himself? From the future?

It seemed ridiculous, impossible. But how else could he explain the shoes? The mark was his, without a doubt.

Suddenly, a tap on his shoulder. It was Edward.

“Come on, Ethan. We’ve got that big presentation. Don’t let the news get to you. We still have a job to do,” Edward said, already heading toward the conference room.

Easy for him to say, Ethan thought bitterly. Edward had no idea how close he'd come to dying. In fact, no one seemed to know. For the past three months, he had taken that same bus every day, and yet, now it felt like none of that mattered to anyone—except, perhaps, the stranger.

As he sat at his desk, Ethan began to question his beliefs about the people around him. Was anyone truly looking out for him? Or was he entirely alone? The stranger had been more concerned about his well-being than Edward, his closest friend at work. It was a disorienting thought—Were all these relationships around him fake? Was he really the only person looking out for himself?

His rational mind tried to dismiss it—it had to be a coincidence. But something deeper gnawed at him, whispering that this was no random chance. The stranger—had he truly travelled through time to save him?

“You coming?” Edward’s voice cut through Ethan’s swirling thoughts, bringing him back to reality as they reached the conference room door.

“Yeah… just behind you,” Ethan muttered, grabbing his laptop.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus on the present. He’d chalk it up to coincidence—for now. But as he followed Edward into the room, an unsettling question lingered: What if that stranger had really been him? And if that were true, maybe, just maybe—he really did have his own back.