My dad knew Anthony's father wouldn't stay silent after what had happened. Within days, a case was filed against him, accusing him of withholding information about Anthony being in India — information that, according to them, could have prevented Elena Matthews' death.
The courtroom felt heavy that day. My dad's lawyer stepped forward and explained..
" Mr. Daniel Brown had tried every possible way to communicate, but the Chrono server failure had disrupted all systems, and by the time he reached their house, it had already been too late."
Her argument was clear, but it wasn't enough.
Anthony's father had hired one of the best lawyers he could afford, and the pressure in the room made it obvious which side held more influence. After hearing both sides, the judge paused for a moment before giving his verdict.
"Mr. Daniel Brown is found guilty of negligence resulting in loss of life and is sentenced to fifteen years of imprisonment with immediate effect."
The sound of the gavel ended everything.
Before he was taken away, my dad made one last request — he wanted to talk to me.
On the other side of the world, we were still trying to reach home, but nothing worked. The US grid had collapsed, and without Chrono servers communication had become nearly impossible.
Calls didn't connect. Messages didn't deliver.
Time just passed.
Two days went by like that.
Then Anthony's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen, and a notification appeared — a physical delivery had arrived at the nearest post office.
The letter.
The same one his father had sent the day his mother died.
For a moment, none of us spoke. Anthony just stared at the screen, his expression unreadable, before slowly putting his phone down and getting up.
"We should go," he said quietly.
We didn't argue.
The walk to the post office felt longer than usual. No one spoke, and even the sounds of the city felt distant, like they didn't belong to us anymore.
When we reached, the clerk handed him a sealed envelope with his name written across it in familiar handwriting.
Anthony held it for a few seconds.
Then he opened it.
Slowly.
His eyes began to move across the words, and at first nothing changed, but then his expression started to shift. The light in his face faded, his jaw tightened, and his grip on the paper grew firmer with every line he read.
I looked at William... he looked back at me.
Neither of us said anything, because we could already see it.
Something inside him was breaking— and he hadn't even finished reading yet.
Son,
This is your dad… and I don't know how to begin writing this. I know you're in India, and things must already be difficult for you right now, but I'm proud of you for staying strong and taking care of yourself through all of this.
There's something I have to tell you… something I never thought I would have to write like this.
Your mom… Elena…
She passed away three hours ago.
We didn't know you were in India, and when she heard about Norway — the shock was too much for her heart to take. Son, I don't want you to lose hope… I want you to stay strong, because now you have to stand on your own. After completing your mom's last rites and delivering justice to her… I will not be with you anymore, because I cannot live without your mom.
I'm sorry to leave you alone… but consider this my last wish — you will stay strong, and you will carry on.
For a moment, I couldn't understand what I had just read… and for some reason his dad hadn't mentioned my dad at all — something that didn't make sense to me even then.
Anthony didn't react immediately. He just stood there, holding the letter, his eyes fixed on the same lines as if reading them again would somehow change what they meant… but slowly his grip tightened, his breathing became uneven — and before either of us could say anything, his body gave way.
He collapsed.
We caught him and rushed him back to the hotel, trying to wake him up… calling his name again and again, until finally his eyes opened — but the moment he came back, he pushed both of us away and sat up abruptly.
For a second, he just stared ahead.
Then—
he started laughing.
At first it was low… almost unnoticeable — but it didn't stop. It grew louder, sharper, more unstable… until tears began rolling down his face, his shoulders shaking while that same laughter kept escaping him.
"Mom… Dad…" he said between breaths — still laughing.
But there was nothing right about it.
We stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do… because this wasn't grief the way we understood it — it was something else.
We took him to a therapist immediately, hoping someone would know how to handle it… but even there he couldn't stop.
The laughter kept breaking into something more painful — something uncontrollable — and within minutes the therapist asked us to step outside.
We waited.
And from inside the room, we could hear him… shouting, crying — his voice breaking again and again in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
Those sounds stayed with me.
Because they didn't feel like someone grieving — they felt like someone falling apart.
When we were finally called back in, he was sitting there quietly… his eyes red, his face covered in sweat, and tears still rolling down slowly.
He didn't look at us.
He didn't speak.
"Leave him here for a few days," the therapist said calmly. "He needs time… and proper care."
We nodded.
There was nothing else we could do.
We said goodbye to him before leaving — even though we didn't know if he was really listening… and for the first time since all of this began, we walked away from him.
The moment we stepped out of the cabin, my phone rang — a sharp, sudden sound that cut through everything. For a second I just stared at it… then picked it up.
"Justin, listen to me carefully," my dad's voice came through, rushed… strained… like he didn't have much time. "Stay in India — don't withdraw any money, stay away from scans and everything else… and do not use teleportation of any sort."
I frowned, my grip tightening around the phone.
"This is the last time you'll hear from me for the next fifteen years…" he continued, his voice lowering slightly.
"Things have been… difficult here. I know you can handle this, Justin — I trust you."
My heart sank — a thousand questions rushed through my mind, but none of them could find their way out, not after seeing what Anthony had just endured.
"Visit Dr. Malhotra," he said quickly. "He lives in Chennai… he's a friend of your professor, Mr. Hanks. He'll guide you."
There was a pause.
Then, more firmly—
"And Justin… don't come into contact with any kind of scan. Not even once. Do you understand?"
"But dad, why are you—"
*Beep*
The call ended.
I stood there, staring at the screen… my reflection faintly visible on it, but for the first time, it didn't feel like me.
First Anthony.
Now me.
Something was wrong — not just with us… but with everything around us.
And whatever it was—
it had already begun.