The reflection still didn't match.
Ethan leaned in, fogging the window again with his breath.
The face staring back followed his movement, but something was off.
It wasn't the expression.
It was the timing—
a second too slow.
Like watching a livestream on a weak signal.
He stepped away.
"Get a grip," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Maybe the article was fake. Maybe someone was messing with him. He'd seen those AI-generated death hoaxes before. He just never thought he'd be the target.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was… off.
Wrong in the bones of the day.
The apartment felt unfamiliar.
Like it had been copied from memory, but some details were missing—
A coffee mug he didn't remember buying.
A light switch on the wrong wall.
His phone buzzed again.
No Caller ID.
Again.
He declined it this time. The moment he did, a knock echoed from his front door.
Three times.
Deliberate.
Slow.
Like whoever was out there wanted him to know they were waiting.
He hesitated.
Another knock.
Then silence.
Ethan walked to the door and pressed his eye to the peephole.
The hallway was empty.
But something had been slipped under the door.
A folded piece of lined paper, torn at the edges.
He crouched down and picked it up with reluctant fingers.
The handwriting was unfamiliar—slanted, urgent.
But what chilled him was what it said:
"Don't believe what you see.
You woke up in the wrong version.
This isn't the first time."
No signature. No explanation. Just that.
Ethan swallowed hard.
His hands were trembling now.
The lights flickered above him.
Just once.
A blink.
And in that blink, for a fraction of a second—
He saw himself
standing at the end of the hallway,
watching.
The lights snapped back on.
The hallway was empty.
But the fear didn't leave.
It settled into his chest like a second heartbeat.
He backed into his apartment, locked the door, and turned on every light.
He reread the note three more times.
This isn't the first time.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the reflection in the TV screen across the room.
It was smiling.
And he wasn't.