Mara didn't stop walking until she reached the familiar outline of her apartment complex. The old brick building loomed in the darkness, its windows reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights.
Her hands were shaking as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The silence of the hallway was comforting—too normal to belong to the world she had just come from.
She climbed the stairs quickly, glancing over her shoulder every few steps. No sign of the man in black. No sign of anyone at all.
By the time she reached her apartment, her pulse had slowed just enough for her to take a steadying breath. She locked the door behind her, double-checking it before turning on the lights.
The room looked exactly as she had left it. Books stacked on the coffee table, her laptop sitting open on the desk, a cup of cold tea beside it.
Everything was the same.
And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.
She tossed her coat aside, moving straight to her desk. The historical record—the one that had shifted—was still there. The words on the page were unchanged since the last time she checked.
But she no longer trusted that it would stay that way.
Mara leaned back, running a hand over her face. Her mind was fraying at the edges, torn between rational explanations and the creeping certainty that she was caught in something much bigger than she could understand.
Then—
A knock at the door.
She froze.
It was past midnight. No one should be here.
Her heart pounded as she slowly approached, pressing her ear against the wood.
Silence.
Another knock.
Lighter this time. Hesitant.
Mara inhaled sharply. "Who is it?"
A pause. Then, a voice—deep, calm, and unsettlingly familiar.
"I saw what happened."
Her stomach turned to ice.
She reached for the doorknob but hesitated. This could be a trap.
But something in the stranger's tone gave her pause. There was no hostility. No urgency. Just… quiet knowledge.
She took a shaky breath and unlocked the door.
Standing in the dim hallway was a man she had never seen before—or at least, she thought she hadn't.
Dark eyes met hers, unreadable. He was tall, dressed in black, his presence at once both ordinary and unsettling.
"I can help you," he said.
Mara's fingers tightened on the doorframe. She should slam the door, demand answers—anything but stand here frozen.
But the man's gaze held something unexpected.
Not threat.
Not fear.
Just the slightest trace of concern.
And that terrified her more than anything else.