Lila woke to cold sheets and the hollow silence of an empty apartment.

Adrian was gone.

She sat up, her pulse already racing, the events of last night crashing back—the kiss that had felt like a brand, the parking stub hidden in his jacket, the lie stamped in black and white and now they went back to his apartment.

A slip of paper lay on his pillow.

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.

"Stay inside. Don’t trust anyone."

The words were Adrian’s, sharp and commanding, but something was wrong. The ink was smudged, the letters uneven, as if written in a hurry—or in fear.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Rachel, her college roommate.

Rachel: Lila, have you heard from Sophie? She was supposed to meet me for coffee an hour ago. She’s not answering.

Lila’s stomach dropped.

Sophie. Another friend.

Just like Chloe.

She scrambled out of bed, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she grabbed her phone and dialed Sophie’s number.

Straight to voicemail.

No. No, no, no.

She tried again. Same result.

A sickening realization settled over her.

Another friend was missing.

And this time, Adrian had no alibi.

The apartment felt too small, the walls closing in as Lila paced, her mind spinning. She needed proof. Something, anything, that could tell her whether Adrian was a killer or a victim.

Her gaze landed on his desk.

She’d never gone through his things before. But now, with Sophie missing and Adrian’s lies piling up, she had no choice.

The first drawer was unlocked—pens, loose change, a spare phone charger. Nothing unusual.

The second drawer was the same.

The third was locked.

Lila’s breath hitched.

She searched for a key, checking under the desk, beneath the blotter, even running her fingers along the underside of the drawer. Nothing.

Then she spotted it—a small, almost imperceptible gap between the desk’s side panel and the back. She wedged her fingers in and pulled.

The panel gave way, revealing a hidden compartment.

Inside, a single key.

Her hands shook as she unlocked the drawer.

And there it was.

A notebook.

Black leather, worn at the edges, as if it had been opened and closed a hundred times.

She flipped it open.

And froze.

The handwriting was hers.

But she didn’t remember writing any of it.

Entry 1: "I blacked out again. Woke up in the alley behind the diner. My hands were shaking. My knuckles were bruised. I don’t remember leaving the apartment."

Entry 2: "Dr. Voss says it’s stress. But I know it’s more than that. There’s something inside me. Something dark. I can feel it pushing."

Entry 3: "I dreamed about blood last night. Woke up screaming. Adrian held me until I stopped shaking. But I didn’t tell him the truth—that in the dream, it wasn’t me screaming. It was Chloe."

Lila’s vision blurred.

This wasn’t possible. She didn’t remember any of this. She didn’t remember writing any of this.

She flipped to the last entry.

Entry 7: "Dr. Voss, Session 4: The Other Me. She says dissociation can feel like losing time. But what if it’s not just losing time? What if it’s losing control? What if ‘the other me’ is the one doing this?"

The words swam on the page.

The other me.

A sob caught in Lila’s throat.

Was it possible? Had she—

No.

She couldn’t have.

But then why didn’t she remember?

A sound from the hallway made her stiffen.

Footsteps.

The front door creaked open.

Lila slammed the notebook shut, shoving it back into the drawer just as Adrian stepped into the room.

His eyes locked onto hers.

And then onto the open drawer.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then Adrian crossed the room in three strides, his hands gripping her arms, his voice low and urgent.

“Lila. What did you find?”

She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

“Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me what you saw.”

Her breath came in short, panicked bursts. “The notebook. The entries. The—the other me.”

Adrian went still.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “Because it looks like I’ve been blacking out. It looks like I’ve been hurting people.”

His jaw tightened. “You haven’t.”

“Then who has?”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Someone’s setting me up,” Adrian said, his voice trembling for the first time since she’d known him. “And they’re using you to do it.”

Lila stared at him. “What?”

He released her arms, stepping back to drag a hand through his hair. “Those entries? They’re not yours. They’re planted. Someone’s been manipulating you. Making you doubt yourself. Making you doubt me.”

Her mind reeled. “How?”

“I don’t know yet.” His gaze burned into hers. “But I swear to god, Lila, I will find out.”

She wanted to believe him.

But the notebook was in her handwriting.

The blackouts were real.

And now Sophie was gone.

Adrian must have seen the doubt in her eyes, because he stepped forward again, caging her against the wall, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Listen to me. You’re not a killer. But someone wants you to think you are. And if we don’t figure out who—you’re next.”

The air left her lungs.

Because the worst part?

She wasn’t sure if he was lying.

Or if he was right.