CHAPTER 25
The light from the screen flickers across my face, soft and blue and entirely wrong.
I don’t remember wearing that green hoodie. I don’t remember the café, or the rainy day, or the boy across from me with the cleft in his chin and a smile like he knew me. And yet—there I am. Laughing like the world hasn’t ended. My hand brushes his on the table like we’ve done this a thousand times. Like I trust him. Like I’m her.
But I’m not. I’m watching her like I don’t know who she is.
This isn’t just déjà vu. This is something fractured—sliced clean down the middle and repackaged in a face I see in mirrors.
That girl on the screen has my hair, my chipped tooth, the way I bite my lip when I’m thinking. But she feels like a cousin I met once at a funeral, hugged out of obligation, and fo
