The screen's blue glare cut through his dark bedroom.
Sophie: "Hey… know we don't talk, but…"
Ice down his spine.
Phone slapped onto the comforter. He drags a palm down his face. Couldn't be random. Not after today's gut-punch.
Sophie was never here.
Phone. Gallery. Texts. All scrubbed.
Yet her name glowed on his screen.
Why now?
How'd she get his number?
What's buried in that "but…"?
Ethan didn't reply. Rolled onto his side. Eyes squeezed shut. Forget. Forget. Forget.
Mind carved trenches through the message.
Coincidence? Bullshit.
His erased girl. Her sudden text.
Code glitching.
Breath sawed raw. Heart thrashing against his ribs— no map for this storm.
Did she feel the world shift too?
Or just another chunk of his life rewriting itself?
But the real terror wasn't the unknown.
It was the hunger.
The clawing need to know what her "but…" hid.
Because even in this bleached reality…
His feelings rotted in his chest.
That rot had teeth.
Next morning, university corridors. Sophie.
Didn't expect her here. Didn't expect her now.
But there—ten paces away—laughing with some poli-sci drones.
World stuttered.
The hallway's roar died. Lockers slamming? Gone. Laughter? Muted.
Her eyes—dagger-sharp—found his.
Sophie's mouth snapped shut. No flinch. No gasp. Just… looked.
And smiled. Soft. Natural. But…
Something sharp behind the curve of her lips.
Ice razored down Ethan's spine.
Muscles yanked his gaze away. Legs moving before his brain caught up.
Couldn't hold that stare. Not with the questions—
Since when did her eyes carve into him like that?
Since when did she see him at all?
Like she knew secrets he didn't. Like she'd expected him there.
Ethan tried to smother the itch between his ribs. Forced his stride steady. Breath measured.
Heart refused the memo—rabbit-fast against his sternum.
Tonight, the itch metastasized.
Phone cracked open again.
Sophie's text still pulsed. Unanswered.
Scanned her words for the hundredth time. Hidden codes? Threats?
Nothing.
Inhale. Exhale.
Thumbs hovered. Breath held.
Sent.
Ethan: "Why'd you text me out of the blue?"
The text whooshed.
Didn't expect a pingback. Got one anyway.
Sophie: "Dunno… just felt like I should."
Ethan's eyebrows knifed downward.
He jackknifed upright. Back against the wall. Her words— misfit puzzle pieces.
Made zero sense.
What's that even mean?
'Felt like I should.'
A hand scraped down his face. Bullshit masquerading as casual.
Gut screamed not random. She's probing. Testing his reaction.
But why?
Ethan: "In this reality—where they'd never happened—what made her seek him now?"
No proof she remembered. No glitches in her texts.
But—her hallway stare. Her "felt like I should."
This wasn't casual.
Buzz.
Sophie: "Sounds weird, but… can we talk more? Stuff I need to say."
Ice needled his spine.
"Need to say."
He stared at the glowing screen. Thumb twitching over keys. No words.
No reply.
Screen off. Phone slapped onto the nightstand.
Ceiling pressing down. Trapped between:
—What if she knows?
—What if she's part of the erasure?
And the real terror—
Curiosity's razor edge.