A grieving musician starts receiving mysterious audio files from his dead lover. But as the songs reveal secrets he never knew, he realizes he wasn’t the only one she left behind. A story of grief, guilt, and a final goodbye that was never finished.

But it was gone. Not in the trash. Not in recovery.


Sometimes when the fridge buzzed or the fan clicked.


It had bled into my brain like ink in water.


I didn't know why. Maybe I needed proof. Maybe I needed to hear what I sounded like now.


> "This is Ezra. This is real. This is not her."


But what I heard… wasn't what I said.


> "This is Ezra. This is her. This is real."


I stared at the waveform on the screen, convinced it was a glitch.


Still, I heard it. Whispering in headphone static. In shower steam. In the sound of my own breathing.


The version he built. The one he rewrote.


And I couldn't tell the difference anymore.


I pulled out an old notebook. Our notebook.


It had lyrics we never finished, chords we never solved, notes scribbled between kisses and fights.


At the bottom of one page, in her handwriting, I saw it:


> "If I'm ever gone, and you don't know what's real—play the yellow tape."


Finally, buried behind demo CDs and cables, I found it:


A battered cassette. No label. No case. Just a smear of yellow paint across the plastic.


I slid it into my old deck and hit play.


> "This is the version of me no one else gets."


> "If you're listening… it means the other one is trying to overwrite me."


> "You need to decide which voice you'll keep."


> "Because if you don't choose soon... he will."


Chapter 7 - Chapter8 Rewrite me