The morning was wrong.
Kael knew it before he opened his eyes. There was something in the air—thick, still, like the world had forgotten how to breathe. His room was perfectly silent, but not in a peaceful way. It was the kind of silence that screamed.
The ticking of his wall clock had stopped again. Third time this week.
He sat up slowly, head pounding with a dull ache that felt too heavy for just a bad dream. His eyes flicked to the red notebook on his desk—the one he always left closed, because opening it meant facing things he didn't remember writing.
Sunlight cut through his window, golden and cheerful. Outside, children laughed. A dog barked. The world spun forward, beautifully unaware.
But inside Kael's chest, something was unraveling.
He pulled the notebook closer and opened it to the last page.
Today's date was already written.
In his handwriting.
"Don't believe her smile today. She's starting to forget you again."
His stomach dropped.
"Aria..." he whispered, the name tasting like ash.
He didn't remember writing those words. But the pen matched. The style matched. The fear matched.
He got dressed slowly, like someone preparing to walk into a war disguised as a school hallway. When he stepped outside, the sky was cloudless. Birds chirped like the world had nothing better to do.
Aria was waiting for him at the corner, just like always.
But her hair was shorter.
And she wore earrings he'd never seen.
"Hey, sleepyhead," she grinned. "We still on for lunch today?"
Kael froze.
Because she'd said the exact same words—down to the blink—yesterday.
And the day before.
His hand trembled around the notebook. The clocks were breaking. Reality was looping. She didn't know.
But he did.
And the smile she gave him wasn't hers anymore.