Ivan was rushing. His mind raced with one thought: he had to make it.
Make it to the meeting. Make it to the one chance that could save everything he had worked for.

He cut through the narrow courtyards between the apartment buildings, pressing the gas pedal.
The streets seemed deserted. «Just don’t let the alley be blocked,» flashed through his mind.

Then his phone vibrated.
It lay on the passenger seat, half-buried under crumpled papers and empty coffee cups.
Ivan glanced at the screen for a split second.

And that second changed everything.

There was a sharp screech of brakes.
A heavy thud.
And then, silence so thick it seemed to smother the air itself.

A small body lay motionless in front of the car — a girl, no more than six years old, bundled in a puffy jacket and woolen hat.
For a moment, Ivan froze.
Then he threw open the car door and ran toward her.

No one else was around.
Not a single witness.

The girl was eerily still, her face pale under the winter sun.
Ivan knelt beside her, shaking her gently.

— Little one, can you hear me? Wake up!

No blood, no visible injuries. Hope flickered inside him.

He scooped her into his arms and laid her carefully on the backseat of his car.

Panic clawed at his throat.

— Come on, wake up, you have to wake up! — he whispered, his hands trembling.

Minutes passed like lifetimes.

And then the girl stirred.
Slowly, her eyes opened — deep, knowing eyes, far too wise for her tender age.
She reached out a small hand toward him, her fingers clenched tightly around something.

Ivan took the crumpled scrap of paper she offered.

On it, written in childlike, shaky handwriting, were the words:

«You have been chosen. Time is running out.»

A shiver tore through Ivan.
What did it mean?
Who had written this?

He spun around to look at the backseat —
but it was empty.

No girl.
No sign she had ever been there.

Countdown Begins
Ivan’s heart pounded wildly.
His phone buzzed again. He snatched it up.

On the screen blinked a single message:

«59 minutes remaining.»

No number. No sender information.

His mouth went dry. His mind raced.
This wasn’t random.
This was personal.

The past, long buried, clawed its way to the surface:
debts unpaid, betrayals left unresolved, sins he thought time had erased.

And now time was demanding its due.

The Chase for Redemption
Ivan slammed his foot on the gas, speeding through the maze of streets.

He didn’t know where he was going.
He just knew he had to move, to act, to do something — anything — before the clock ran out.

He tried to remember every wrong, every broken promise, every person he had hurt.

Faces flashed before him.
Voices from long ago whispered accusations in his ears.

In his rearview mirror, something caught his eye.

The girl.

She was sitting in the backseat again, watching him silently.

Ivan almost drove off the road.

— Who are you?! — he screamed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

The girl said nothing.
She only held out another piece of paper.

Ivan grabbed it with trembling hands.

«You cannot undo the past. But you can still choose your end.»

The Final Choice
The message was clear.
Time was running out.
Redemption was not guaranteed — it had to be earned.

Every second counted.

Ivan had to decide:
Would he hide, as he always had?
Or would he finally face the wreckage he had left behind?

The timer on his phone ticked away mercilessly.
No pause. No mercy.

He inhaled deeply, the weight of every mistake pressing on his chest.

He turned the wheel sharply, heading toward the one place he had avoided for years — the place where it had all begun.

The girl’s reflection remained in the mirror, calm and watchful.

And the clock kept ticking.