22 – 2017: The Third Time Turning 25

"Ten... nine... eight..."

Cheers echoed all around him. Evan tightened his hold around Nadira's waist, trying to savor the final seconds before everything changed.

"Seven... six... five..."

His eyes were fixed on the birthday cake on the table. The number "26" candle stood firmly on top, ready to be blown out the moment the new year arrived. In his pocket, a small box containing a diamond ring waited.

"Four... three... two... one!"

"Happy New Year!" the crowd roared. Fireworks exploded in the sky, showering the night with dazzling colors. Evan smiled, ready to blow out the candle and carry out his plan.

But his smile froze when his eyes returned to the cake.

The number on the candle wasn't "26"—it was "25."

His heart pounded. His breath caught. This wasn't possible. He had checked everything himself, even bought the candle with his own hands.

His hands trembled as he stepped back, and in that instant, reality crashed into him.

Nadira wasn't by his side.

Her sweet laughter was gone.

The warmth of her touch, just there a second ago, had vanished.

He turned in all directions, searching for the figure that should have been near him. But there was only Reza and a few coworkers, cheering and clinking glasses. No sign of Nadira. No trace of her presence.

His gaze returned to the glowing candle atop the cake. The number 25.

The new year had come, and the curse remained. Worse yet... it was as if Nadira had never existed in his life.

—

"Ten... nine... eight..."

The countdown echoed, blending with the distant boom of fireworks. The night sky lit up with dancing colors, illuminating faces full of joy as they welcomed the new year.

Amid the crowd, Evan stood tall, his arm wrapped around Nadira's waist, pulling her closer. These final moments were precious to him. He wanted to etch them into memory forever.

"Seven... six... five..."

His eyes were locked on the birthday cake nearby. A "26" candle flickered in the night breeze. That cake wasn't just a celebration—it was a symbol of freedom. A sign that he could finally move forward.

"Four... three... two..."

In his jacket pocket, a ring box rested safely. Soon, he would take it out. After blowing out the candle, he would take the first slice, get down on one knee, and ask the question that would change their lives.

"One!"

"Happy New Year!!!"

Cheers and fireworks exploded simultaneously. Glasses clinked. People hugged and shouted in joy. Evan took a deep breath, ready to blow the candle and begin the next chapter.

But something felt... off.

The crowd felt strangely unfamiliar. Something unexplainable crawled down his spine, making the hairs on his neck stand.

He looked back at the birthday cake.

And there it was.

Not the number "26," but "25."

His blood froze.

Impossible.

He had bought the candle himself. This wasn't a misprint. Not a small mistake he could ignore.

His heart pounded as he turned to his right—where Nadira should have been.

Empty.

No one was there.

No soft laughter. No warm gaze.

Evan looked around, panic rising. Only Reza and coworkers, laughing and toasting. Familiar faces—without Nadira.

As if... Nadira never existed.

His hands shook. His knees went weak.

He reached into his jacket pocket for the ring box.

Gone.

A wave of dread swept over him, engulfing him in a hollow emptiness. The new year had come—but not the way it should have.

The "25" candle kept burning on the cake, mocking him.

The curse remained.

And worse... Nadira had vanished from his life.

—

Evan gasped. His right hand still fumbled in his jacket pocket—yes, the ring box was still there. His trembling fingers brushed its surface, but it now felt utterly foreign.

Who was this ring for?

Nadira. It was meant for Nadira.

Yet her face felt blurry in his mind. As if his memories of her were slowly fading, erased by something unseen.

Panic took hold. Evan pulled out his wallet, flipping it open quickly. His eyes went to his ID cards.

His hand shook as he pulled them out.

Name: Nathaniel Evan

Date of Birth: January 1, 1992

The world spun around him. His chest tightened.

1992?!

Not 1990.

He was supposed to be turning 27, not 25!

He should've beaten this curse. He should've been free. He should've...

He should've had Nadira with him.

His eyes darted frantically, searching for the woman who had stood by his side just minutes ago. But there were only people he knew, laughing, toasting, celebrating the new year.

As if... as if this was how things had always been.

As if Nadira never existed.

His heart thundered in his chest. His legs barely held him up.

No. This couldn't be happening.

Evan squeezed his eyes shut, hoping this was just a nightmare. That when he opened them, Nadira would be there, smiling.

But when he opened his eyes—

There was only darkness, growing deeper.

—

The party raged on. Laughter and music mixed with the clink of champagne glasses. But in the middle of the joy, Evan stood frozen, still clutching his ID with trembling fingers.

Reza, noticing his friend's strange expression, approached with a furrowed brow. "Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?" he asked, patting Evan on the shoulder.

Evan flinched and quickly shoved the ID back into his wallet. "Nothing."

But his expression was too telling to ignore. Others nearby began noticing too.

"Seriously, man, it's your birthday but you look like you just got dumped at the altar," joked Ardi, laughing.

"Or are you waiting for someone?" Dimas teased.

Evan's stomach dropped.

Yes. He was waiting for someone.

Someone who should've been here. Someone he was supposed to propose to tonight.

But Nadira...

Nadira was nowhere to be found.

No sign of her. No one said her name. As if she'd never been part of Evan's life.

His throat went dry. His lips trembled as he tried to respond to their jokes, but no words came out.

Reza grew more concerned. "You sure you're okay?"

Evan forced a smile. "Yeah, just... little dizzy. Maybe I drank too much earlier."

"You lightweight," Ardi laughed, and the others joined in.

But behind their laughter, Evan stood hollow inside.

Because he knew—

What just happened was worse than a hangover.

—

Evan was still standing, confused and overwhelmed, when he took a deep breath.

Nadira. The name echoed in his head.

She was supposed to be here. She should be next to him. But no one had even mentioned her name.

With his heart pounding, Evan turned to Reza, who was casually sipping his drink.

"Reza," he said, voice lower than usual. "Where's Nadira?"

Reza frowned, then turned to Evan with a small smile. He looked like someone harboring a big secret, and Evan felt even more uneasy.

"Shhh…" Reza pressed a finger to his lips, leaning closer.

"I didn't invite her tonight," he said softly, but clearly. "Tomorrow I'm proposing to her. On her birthday."

Evan's world stopped.

His heart dropped. His breath caught.

"What?"

That was all he could manage, a whisper of desperation.

Reza chuckled, unaware of Evan's shock. "Yeah, tomorrow, January 2nd. I've got everything ready. I'm sure she'll say yes."

Evan couldn't respond. This had to be a joke.

But Reza's face was too serious. No sign of humor.

Evan opened his mouth, wanting to deny it, to shout that it wasn't supposed to be Reza—it was supposed to be him!

But nothing came out.

His hand reflexively touched his pocket. The ring was still there.

But now... who was it really for?

—

Evan blinked, struggling to breathe. The laughter of his friends seemed far away, as if he were trapped in a bubble, cut off from reality.

He stared at Reza, searching for proof this was a joke. But no—Reza was genuinely happy, glowing with confidence.

"Since when have you been dating Nadira?" he asked again, voice a whisper.

Reza laughed louder this time, as if Evan had said something ridiculous. "Dude, are you drunk already?" He shook his head. "Since I started managing that park project with her, obviously!"

Evan felt himself freeze. The air left his lungs.

Park project?

Reza handled the park project? Not him?

Not Evan?

His mind rebelled. That park project was the start of his relationship with Nadira. That's how they connected, how he got close to her.

How could Reza be the one in charge now?

Evan tried to think clearly. Maybe this was a misunderstanding. Maybe he'd missed something.

With a shaky motion, he reached into his pocket. His hand trembled as it touched the ring box. The one he had guarded so carefully. The one he was supposed to give to Nadira tonight.

But now...

Who was it really meant for?

His head spun. He swallowed hard, trying to summon the courage to ask again.

"Reza…" he barely whispered. "You're really going to propose to Nadira?"

Reza raised an eyebrow, confused by Evan's expression. "Of course! That's why I didn't bring her tonight—I'm planning to surprise her tomorrow on her birthday," he said with a grin. "I still can't believe I got a girl as amazing as her."

Evan went silent. His heart pounded so hard his ears rang.

So now Reza was proposing to Nadira?

His blood ran cold. The world around him blurred.

He reached for his back pocket, yanking out his wallet. Flipping it open, his eyes went straight to the ID inside.

Nathaniel Evan.

Born: January 1, 1992.

His hands trembled.

Not 1991. Not 1990.

But 1992.

He was back to being 25.

Again.

And this time, everything was different.

He hadn't just lost a project. Not just a position.

He had lost Nadira.

—

Fireworks still lit up the sky as Evan walked away from the party. The sounds of celebration faded behind him. The night, once meant to be the happiest of his life, now felt empty.

Inside, people laughed, celebrating the new year and what was supposed to be Evan's 26th birthday.

But that number had changed. Again.

The cold air bit at his skin as he got into his car. His hands gripped the steering wheel, trying to control the chaos inside him. This night was supposed to be perfect. He was supposed to propose to Nadira. Everything had been planned.

But now, everything had changed.

He sighed deeply, started the engine, and drove away. The streets buzzed with New Year's cheer, but to Evan, the world felt hollow.

Then suddenly, red and blue lights flashed in his rearview mirror. A short siren.

Police.

Evan sighed and pulled over.

An officer approached, tapping on his window. Evan rolled it down silently.

"Good evening, sir. Can I see your license?"

Too tired to care, Evan handed over his license. The officer glanced at it and broke into a wide smile.

"Happy 25th birthday, Mr. Evan!" he said cheerfully.

Evan froze. He stared at the officer, his mind reeling.

"What?"

The officer chuckled. "Don't worry, just a prank from your friends! They told me to say that."

Evan said nothing. His breath caught.

The officer returned his license with a grin. "Relax, sir. Drive safe, and happy birthday again!"

Evan took back the license with a trembling hand. The officer walked away, leaving him in silence.

He looked at the card.

Nathaniel Evan.

Born: January 1, 1992.

His hand clenched on the wheel.

This isn't a prank.

It's a curse.

And he can't escape it.

—

Evan dropped onto his bed fully clothed. His head throbbed—not from alcohol (he hadn't even had a drink)—but from pure mental exhaustion.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He knew who it was. Mom.

Dozens of missed calls. Maybe she was worried he left early, or just wanted to say happy birthday again.

But Evan didn't care.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. But his mind spun. Images from the night flashed through his head—candle number 25, Nadira's absence, Reza's victorious smile as he talked about proposing tomorrow.

He pressed his hand to his temple.

"Damn it," he muttered.

He wanted to scream. To break something. But what for? Even if he screamed until his voice gave out, nothing would change.

Tomorrow, Reza would propose to Nadira. Tomorrow, he would still be 25. Tomorrow, his life would reset all over again.

Evan opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his apartment, his expression blank.

"So what the hell do I do now?" he whispered.

There was no answer.

Only silence, closing in.