The night air hit my face like a memory as I left the studio, carrying with it the weight of a thousand decisions yet unmade. Rico's Escalade idled at the curb, the bass from its speakers a low pulse that matched the rhythm still playing in my head. He'd offered me a ride home, but I needed to walk, needed to feel the city beneath my feet and sort through the tangled threads of past and future that seemed to knot tighter with each passing day.
"You sure, man?" Rico called through the passenger window. "It's late, and we've got that meeting with Atlantic tomorrow."
"I'm good," I said, waving him off. "Need to clear my head."
The truth was, I remembered this night—or rather, I remembered its ghost, the version that had played out in my first life. In that timeline, I'd taken the ride, and we'd ended up at an industry party where I'd made the kind of connections that had shaped my career. But those connections didn't matter anymore. I had bigger plans now.
My phone lit up with a text from Maria—Mom, though it still felt strange to think of her as so much younger than I remembered:
*The foundation paperwork came through. Board meeting Tuesday. Proud of you, baby.*
The Johnson Family Music Foundation. Another divergence from the original timeline, born from my determination to change not just my own story, but the stories of countless others. In my first life, it had taken another decade and countless missed opportunities before I'd thought to give back. Now, with success coming faster and smarter, I could accelerate that timeline too.
The streets of the Bronx wrapped around me like an old friend, though even they were changing. Gentrification was creeping in earlier this time, partly due to the recording complex Rico and I had opened where that abandoned warehouse used to be. The butterfly effect, always the butterfly effect. Sometimes I wondered if I was helping or just trading one set of problems for another.
My phone buzzed again. A news alert this time—Beyoncé had just announced her next album. I smiled, knowing what was coming. In three months, she'd be looking for new producers, for a sound that nobody had heard yet. A sound that was currently sitting on a hard drive in Rico's studio, waiting for the right moment.
The timing had to be perfect. In the original timeline, we'd met too late, both of us set in our ways and our careers. This time... this time I could do it right. But first, I had to establish myself as more than just another producer with hot beats. The foundation, the youth programs, the community recording spaces—they weren't just about giving back. They were about building something bigger than myself, something that would catch her attention for more than just the music.
I turned down my old block, past the corner store where Mr. Chen still worked late into the night. He waved through the window, and I waved back, remembering how he'd let me run a tab for studio equipment in my first life when nobody else would give me credit. Tomorrow, I'd stop by and finally tell him about the small business investment program the foundation was starting. Another ripple, another change.
The weight of future knowledge was heavy sometimes, like carrying an ocean in a paper cup. One wrong move and everything could spill out, washing away the carefully constructed present I was building. But nights like tonight made it worth it—when the music flowed pure and true, when the changes I made felt right in my bones.
I climbed the stairs to our apartment, key in hand, thinking about Jasmine's session. The song we'd recorded wasn't just good; it was transformative. The kind of track that would make people question everything they thought they knew about pop music. In my original timeline, the industry hadn't been ready for that sound until 2010. But why wait? Why not push the boundaries now, when everything was still fluid, still possible?
Mom was asleep on the couch, foundation documents spread across the coffee table. I covered her with a blanket, my heart full. In my first life, she'd never lived to see my real success. Now she was not just alive but thriving, helping run the foundation, watching her son become the man she'd always believed he could be.
Tomorrow would bring meetings and decisions, ripples and waves. But tonight, in the quiet of our apartment, with the ghost of future music still ringing in my ears, I let myself believe that every change, every divergence from the original timeline, was leading exactly where it needed to go.
Even if I was the only one who would ever know the difference.