Chapter 56: I Am Your Uncle

As the credits rolled and the theater lights brightened, nearly everyone stood up, shuffling out while discussing the film's plot. Only Martin remained seated in the front row, one elbow propped on the armrest, legs crossed, staring blankly at the screen. 

He wasn't pondering any grand existential questions—he just hated crowds. Still, he couldn't help envying the movie's protagonist, who ultimately found other survivors. Meanwhile, Martin would forever bury his secret as a time traveler. 

*Lonely? Absolutely.* 

Once the theater emptied, Martin finally stood to leave—only to freeze. A girl, no older than 15 or 16, stormed into the auditorium and glared at him from the exit. 

Instinct told him it was the same girl who'd tried flirting earlier. 

She stood barely over five feet, with chestnut hair, wide eyes, and features that fell somewhere between cute and plain. Dressed in trendy high school attire, she radiated the confidence of someone popular. Oddly, she felt… *familiar*. 

"Where are your friends?" Martin asked, approaching her. 

"You shithead!" she shrieked. "Why did you give me a fake number?!" 

Martin winced. "I didn't want your parents thinking I'm some creep. You're underage." 

"You're such a prude!" Her voice cracked. "I'm FIFTEEN! Even my parents can't control my social life! Then my friends made me call you, and some *woman* answered—said she's your *secretary*! Do you know how humiliating that is?! Monday at school's gonna be a NIGHTMARE!" 

Martin rubbed his neck. "Realistically? You'll get mocked. Maybe even ostracized." 

Her face flushed redder. "Then why do it?! Enjoy watching me crash and burn?!" 

"Back in my day, girls waited till *after* the date to text. Guess times changed." His tone dripped with generational sarcasm. 

The girl gaped, fury boiling into silent rage. 

After a stalemate, Martin sighed. "Look, damage's done. Let me fix it. How about Dinner? My treat—anywhere you want. I'll spin this into a story that saves your rep." 

Glowering, she spun on her heel and marched off. Martin trailed behind, mentally cursing his miscalculation. 

--- 

Using charm and wit, Martin smoothed things over with her friends outside. He offered dinner, but the girls declined—curfews loomed. Instead, he bought them ice cream cones as peace offerings. 

As they parted in the parking lot, Martin studied the girl's face again. "What's your name?" 

Her friends erupted into giggles, whispering excitedly. 

Smug, she tossed her hair. "Haley." 

"Haley… Haley *Dunphy*?" Martin's brow furrowed. 

Her smirk vanished. "How do you know my last name?!" 

"You *are* Haley Dunphy." Martin's gaze sharpened. "No wonder you looked familiar. Last time I saw you, you were six." He gestured at knee-height. "Used to ride on my shoulders everywhere." 

Haley blinked, bewildered. 

"Don't you remember me ?" Martin chuckled. "Haley… **I'm your uncle**." 

The color drained from her face. *Flirting with a relative?!* 

Before she could protest, Martin added, "Call Claire or Phil. I'll drive you home and see them." 

Haley numbly dialed her mom. 

"Haley! Where ARE you? We're back from Grandpa's!" Claire's voice crackled through the speaker. 

"Claire, it's Martin. Martin Scott." 

A gasp. "*Martin*?! Aunt Caterina's son?! Oh my God—it's been *years*! You vanished after Harvard!" 

"Ran into Haley at the movies. Recognized her—she's got your eyes. How's Phil? Alex? Little Luke must be… what, ten now?" 

Claire's skepticism melted as Martin rattled off family details. Soon, she ordered him to bring Haley home immediately. 

Hanging up, Martin spread his arms. "Well, niece? How about hug for your long-lost uncle?" 

--- 

*(End of Chapter)*