Part 2Love Letters from the Past

Another message from her came through. “This way we don’t have to fight over the same text box. So, please, answer me. Who are you?”

My eyes darkened.

“I am a god,” I typed. “I can see the future.”

“I’m a materialist. I don’t believe in gods or ghosts.”

Her bluntness made me choke back a laugh. Another message followed immediately. “But I’m willing to listen to your prophecy. What do you know?”

If I told her… could it change that day?

I raised a hand, my fingers tracing the faint, jagged line on my cheek. It was worth a try.

“The day after Noah’s birthday,” I wrote, “a group of bullies will corner him. They’re going to burn his face.”

The reply was swift. “Okay. I’ll be watching.”

And that was it. Silence.

I put the phone away. It was already past midnight. Margaret and our son still weren't home. Normally, I’d be frantic, calling nonstop, unable to sleep until they walked through the door.

Tonight, I just quietly washed up and went to bed.

The next morning, the house was still empty. They hadn’t come home at all.

I felt nothing. But as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I froze. My reflection stared back, and the skin on my cheek—the side that had been marred by a puckered burn scar for thirteen years—was smooth. Perfect.

A whole new set of memories flooded my mind, overwhelming and vivid.

The day after my seventeenth birthday, the bullies caught me, just like before. But as one of them lunged forward with a lit cigarette, Margaret had appeared out of nowhere, throwing herself in front of me, shielding my face.

The past had actually changed.

An incredulous laugh escaped me, followed by tears streaming down my face. I fumbled for the old phone.

A new message was waiting.

“Thank you. I saved him.”

Without hesitation, I typed back to the girl who had once been my everything.

“Are you willing to save Noah again?”

Her reply was instant. “Is he in trouble again? What do I need to do?”

“Don’t confess to him. Stay away from him. The farther, the better.”

I could almost see her confused, indignant expression. “Why?”

“Because if you get together, you will destroy the man he becomes.”

She immediately shot back. “Impossible! I love Noah more than anything!”

“Today, he scraped his knee, and I ran to the store after class and bought him five different kinds of bandaids.”

“That fatso in his class, Duncan, tried to bully him into doing his homework, so I ripped the homework to shreds right in front of him!”

“When he has a fever, or a cold, or even a stomachache, my heart feels like it’s going to break!”

“There were so many of those thugs today. I’m a girl, and I was terrified, but I still ran in to protect him. I know he’s my entire world. I could never, ever hurt him!”

I read her passionate, desperate messages, and the beautiful memories of our youth resurfaced, sharp and painful. The seventeen-year-old Margaret had treated me like a precious treasure.

The thirty-year-old Margaret treated me like dirt.

The woman who once promised to provide for me now threw it in my face that she was the one supporting me.

My gaze fell. “People change.”

“Then tell me. Tell me how I hurt him in the future.”

My fingers froze over the screen. A thousand moments of cruelty and neglect flashed through my mind, but I didn't know where to begin.

Just then, my phone rang. I answered.

“Noah? It’s Amy, from the lab. Margaret’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s at the restaurant where Leo works part-time. Can you come and get her? Your son… he’s here too.”

The background was a cacophony of noise, and I could faintly hear the sound of something smashing.

A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “I’m on my way.”

As I rushed out the door, Margaret’s question echoed in my head. “Tell me how I hurt him.”

I pulled out the old phone, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Then I pressed the record button.

Alright, Margaret. Get ready to hear what a monster you’ve become.