It started with footsteps.
Sharp. Measured. Confident.
Ethan looked up from his corner café table just as the door swung open, bells chiming. She walked in like a slow storm—heels soft on tile, dark hair pulled back, confidence woven into every movement.
(I almost forgot she entered my story this early...)
Sienna Cristine.
No relation. Just coincidence. In the last timeline, she was a ghost—someone he noticed once and never again. But now, she was more than a pretty silhouette. She was a missed opportunity. A woman with hidden edges.
And more importantly:
She'd built a 7-figure online brand by age 24… in his old timeline. She belongs to above middle class family.
But today, she was just another university student, holding an espresso like it was armor.
"Not this time", Ethan thought." This time, I see the seeds before the tree grows."
He stood, quietly but deliberately, and walked past her seat just as she settled in. The barista was still fiddling with the card reader.
"Need help with that menu?" he asked, tone casual, eyes steady.
She blinked. "What?"
"That one's garbage," he pointed to the Caramel Fusion. "Overpriced sugar. Try the black mocha with cinnamon. Cheaper, less regret."
She smirked slightly. "You always give unsolicited advice?"
Bold. Not defensive. She's used to attention but filters for signal.
"I only speak when it saves lives."
That earned a soft laugh. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're funny," she said. "But mysterious."
"I get that a lot."
---
10 Minutes Later
They sat at a corner booth. She sipped slowly. He spoke less, listened more.
Her major was behavioral economics. She liked early morning runs, hated TikTok debates, and was interning at a low-end marketing agency she claimed was "hell in heels."
He made her laugh twice. Not too hard. Just enough.
(Don't chase. Plant presence. Let intrigue do the rest.)
"So," she said, tilting her head. "You some kind of monk? Or just pretending to be intense?"
"Neither," he replied. "Just someone who ran out of time once. Now I value it differently."
That pause.
That moment when she stopped smiling, just briefly, and looked at him with full attention.
Hook set.
---
Later — Campus Courtyard
He walked alone, phone buzzing in his pocket.
Text from QuickByte:
"$15 paid for completed article."
"New client invite received."
Then another buzz.
This one from reality.
"Yo. Ethan."
He turned.
Blake Kerrigan. 6'2, perfectly groomed, finance major, part-time model. Campus golden boy. Alpha posturer with beta substance.
Last life, Blake had cruised through social circles like a yacht on calm water. No friction. All ease.
But now?
He was in Ethan's lane.
And Ethan wasn't giving up the road.
"Blake," Ethan nodded.
"I saw you with Sienna."
The tone was light. The undertone wasn't.
Ethan smirked. "You watching her... or me?"
Blake chuckled, but his eyes didn't.
"She's got a... specific taste. Just letting you know. Girls like her don't go for mystery unless mystery has money."
Ethan stepped closer, voice calm. "You think money's what makes a man? You're two years from bankruptcy, by the way. Bad real estate decisions. Trust me."
Blake blinked.
(Too early. Don't expose too much.)
Ethan smiled and patted his shoulder. "Friendly advice. Keep your receipts."
Then walked away.
You just met the new variable in your timeline, Blake.
---
That Night — Apartment
The room was dark, lit only by the blue glow of his laptop.
On screen:
Three more gigs delivered.
One new client request.
Sienna had followed him on Instagram.
Below that, a photo:
Sienna at the café, posted to her story. Only one person tagged.
**@ethanv._
He stared at it a moment.
(Attraction isn't random. It's built on value, signal, and self-possession.)
Then he opened his journal:
---
DAY 3 SUMMARY
Calories: 1500 (eggs, rice, protein bar)
Training: Intervals + Push (intensity: 8/10)
Business: 4 gigs done, 1 high-ticket lead
Social: Met Sienna, diffused Blake
Action: Researching Sienna's family business for future pitch
Mood: Focused. Calculating.
---
He leaned back, cracking his knuckles.
Sienna was the spark. Blake was the foil.
But this was his rewrite.
And the story had just started burning.