The Call From Tomorrow

1
The day I won a brand-new BMW, my phone rang. It was me, calling from ten years in the future.
“Don’t let Ethan borrow the car,” my own voice urged. “He’ll use it to pay a gambling debt.”
When my brother asked, I refused outright.
That night, driving his old sedan to see our parents, he crashed and was left in a vegetative state.
Guilt overwhelmed me. Only my parents’ care kept me going.
Then my future self called again, coldly mocking: “It’s an act. They want your heart for Ethan.”
I found donation forms in their bag. Enraged, I cut them off and threw them out.
After Ethan died from blood loss, I learned the truth: they needed my blood, not my heart.
Desperate to apologize, I tried to find them—but my future self warned: “They hate you. They’ll drag you down.”
I hesitated.
Then came the call: my parents were murdered in a break-in.
Rushing to them, I was hit by a truck. Dying, I wondered why my future self would ruin my life.
Then I opened my eyes… back to the day I won the car.
…
“[Aurora], you have to listen to me,” my own voice hissed from the phone. “Ethan will definitely ask for the car. Don’t you dare lend it to him. He’s just going to use it to settle his debts.”
A violent shiver ran down my spine, and the phone clattered to the floor.
“Congratulations, Ms. Evans,” a staff member said, holding out a shiny new set of keys. “You’re the winner of the BMW sedan!”
Looking at the keys, it finally sank in. I was back. I had been reborn on the very day it all started.
On the phone, my future self was warning me, pleading with me not to let my brother borrow the car. The first time this happened, I didn't believe it. I saw my own number on the caller ID and assumed it was some elaborate prank. But then she started revealing secrets—tiny, hidden things from my childhood that no one else could possibly know. I had no choice but to believe she was me.
She swore that if I lent Ethan the car, he would immediately hand it over to his creditors. So, when he called, I stood firm and refused.
But that night, he crashed his old car on the way to see Mom and Dad, leaving him a vegetable. The accident report concluded the wreck was caused by mechanical failure in his aging vehicle—a tragedy that a new, safer car would have prevented.
My refusal had doomed him.
The guilt was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. I cried until I passed out, convinced I had killed my brother. It was my parents who nursed me back to health, their tireless care a gentle balm on my shattered soul.
Just as I was starting to feel human again, the phone rang. This time, the voice was a cold sneer.
“[It’s all fake! I thought they really cared about me, too. That’s why I didn’t think twice about the chicken soup they made.]”
“[The next thing I knew, I was strapped to an operating table. They were going to take my heart for Ethan.]”
Following my future self’s instructions, I found the donation forms in my mother’s purse. Blinded by rage, I kicked my parents out, ignoring their frantic pounding on my door all night.
Then came the news: Ethan had died. He hadn't gotten a blood transfusion in time. They hadn't wanted my heart at all, just my blood.
Shame and regret washed over me. I had to find them, to apologize, to explain everything. But the phone rang again.
“[This time, you listen to me and you do exactly as I say! Mom and Dad are destroyed. They blame you for Ethan’s death, and they don’t want to live anymore. If you go to them now, they won’t listen to reason. They’ll just try to take you with them.]”
So I stayed away, telling myself I’d give them time to cool off.
That night, burglars broke into their home and killed them.
My mind fractured. I had to see them, just one last time. Racing there, I ran into the street and was struck and killed by a truck. As my life faded, the phone rang one final time. Through the speaker, I heard a faint, chilling laugh.
This time would be different. This time, I would write my own ending and escape the tragedy of my past life.
Snapping back to the present, I ignored the voice from the phone and sent a text.
“Ethan, you’re not going to believe this. I won a BMW! You love cars. Want to take it for a spin for a few days?”
Ethan rushed over, his eyes glued to the sleek new car. “Wow, Aurora. Seriously? Congratulations!”
“You came just in time,” I said, nudging him toward the driver’s side. “Get in. Try it out.”
He slid into the driver's seat, his hands stroking the leather-wrapped steering wheel as his eyes lit up. “What a machine,” he murmured, over and over. “A real beauty.”
Seeing the pure joy on his face, I remembered the mangled wreck of his old car, the image seared into my brain. I held out the keys. “It’s yours. Take it.”
He looked up, surprised. “Aurora, what are you doing?”
I smiled. “Just take it, Ethan. That old car of yours is a death trap. It's time for an upgrade.”
He hesitated, though his fingers never stopped caressing the wheel. “But it’s your prize. I can’t just…”
“Don’t be silly. We’re family. A car this nice should be driven by someone who’ll really appreciate it, don’t you think?”
That seemed to do the trick. “Well… okay, then.”
He drove off, a massive grin on his face. I had made a different choice. I had changed the past. Everything was going to be okay now.
But before I could even begin to relax, the phone rang that evening. It was the hospital.
“Is this Aurora Evans? Your brother has been in an accident. You need to come to the hospital immediately.”
“An accident?” My voice was a strangled whisper. “That’s impossible. He was driving a brand-new car.”
“His condition is critical. Please, get here as soon as you can.”
When I arrived, my mind was a maelstrom of confusion. How could this have happened again? I had given him the new car. This wasn’t supposed to happen!
“What happened to my brother?” I demanded.
My sister-in-law, Jessica, who had arrived first, was a sobbing wreck. The moment she saw me, her grief twisted into rage. She lunged, her fingers clamping around my throat. “You jinx!” she shrieked. “You cursed woman! If a passerby hadn’t found him after he crawled halfway up that ravine, my baby would have been born without a father!”
Nurses rushed to pull us apart. “Ma’am, please, you need to calm down!” one of them urged, before turning to me.
“Mr. Evans’ car went off a cliff on the mountain road. By the time the ambulance arrived, we only found a few fragments of the vehicle. The car itself must have gone all the way down.”
“He was covered in so much blood we couldn't recognize him. We only identified him from the driver's license we found nearby.”
“But the car was brand new!” I protested, my voice cracking. “There couldn’t have been anything wrong with it!”
Jessica’s glare was venomous. “You know how much he loves cars! If you hadn’t insisted on him taking that BMW, he never would have been on that road! He never would have crashed!”
Was it my fault? Again?
The doctor offered a possible explanation. “It’s possible the new car handled differently than what he was used to. He might have misjudged the power on a sharp turn, causing him to lose control.”
The world tilted on its axis. I stumbled, my legs threatening to give out.
How could this be? I thought giving him the safe, new car would save him. But instead, my insistence had sent him plunging off a cliff. My desperate attempt to fix the past had once again left my brother’s life hanging by a thread.
My father put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Aurora. You just wanted something good for your brother.”
My mother pulled me into a hug, stroking my hair. “He got help in time. He’s out of danger. He’s going to be okay.”
I collapsed against her, sobbing.
Worried I would spiral back into guilt, my parents stayed by my side day and night, their warmth a fragile shield. My spirits slowly began to lift.
Then, just like before, I knew the call was coming. The one warning me to be wary of my parents.
I didn’t even touch the screen, but the call connected automatically. “[Aurora, I’m so sorry about Ethan. But this is not your fault.]”
“[Trust me. Don’t drink the soup they’re going to bring you. They’re planning to take you to the hospital and cut out your heart for Ethan.]”
That evening, Mom brought me a bowl of chicken soup.

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