The Messages Arrive Before They're Sent

It starts one evening with a text message from a close friend. A simple question. Nothing unusual-except when the protagonist replies, the friend insists they never sent anything. Then more messages appear. A voicemail timestamped two hours in the future. An email from someone who died last year. A screenshot of a conversation the protagonist doesn't remember having. All arriving before anyone actually sends-or speaks-them.
As the messages escalate, they become warnings:cryptic phrases, frantic pleas for help, disjointed memories that feel real, and detailed instructions to avoid a moment that hasn't happened yet. But the final set of messages changes everything. They come from the protagonist's own number. Their own voice. Their own words. And they all end the same way:"Don't let it happen again."Now time is unraveling, communication is bleeding between timelines, and someone-possibly the protagonist themselves-is trying to stop an event that destroyed a version of their life.
The only problem:Every message brings them closer to the moment they're trying to prevent.