Mara didn't move. The man at her door stood perfectly still, his dark eyes watching her with unsettling patience.
She should slam the door. Demand answers. Call the police. Something.
But instead, she found herself gripping the doorknob, frozen between fight and curiosity.
"I don't know you," she said carefully.
The man tilted his head slightly. "No. But I know you."
A cold prickle ran down her spine. That was not a normal thing to say.
Mara's grip tightened. "Who are you?"
A pause. Then, the man exhaled, almost like he'd been expecting the question but still hesitated to answer.
"I can't tell you yet."
Mara scoffed, finally regaining control of herself. "Then why are you here?"
His expression didn't change, but there was something about the way he looked at her—calculating, but not unkind.
"To warn you," he said. "The gaps… they're going to get worse."
Silence stretched between them.
Mara swallowed. "You know about them."
The man gave a slow nod. "More than you do."
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She wanted to demand more, to force him to explain, but something stopped her.
Would he even tell the truth?
The last few hours had already proved that reality was not as stable as she once believed. She wasn't sure how much she could trust anyone—especially a stranger who seemed to know more than he should.
She took a step back. "I think you should go."
For the first time, something flickered across the man's face—something close to disappointment. But he nodded.
"All right," he said. Then, before she could shut the door, he added, "But you'll see me again."
And with that, he turned and walked down the hall, his footsteps soundless.
Mara slammed the door, locking it immediately.
She pressed her forehead against the wood, her breathing uneven.
What the hell was happening to her?
She needed to think. To ground herself.
She turned, scanning her apartment for something—anything—that would give her a sense of control. Her gaze landed on the historical record still lying open on her desk.
She hesitated, then walked toward it.
Her fingers hovered over the pages.
The text had changed before. What if it happened again?
Taking a deep breath, she read.
And then—
Her vision blurred.
The world around her lurched.
The room was there, but not. Her desk, her bookshelves—everything warped, flickered.
A cold sensation wrapped around her body, like she was falling through something unseen.
And just as suddenly as it started—
It stopped.
Mara gasped, staggering back.
The apartment looked the same. The walls, the furniture, the dim glow of the streetlight outside her window.
But something was… different.
She turned to the historical record.
Her stomach dropped.
The words had shifted again. Entire paragraphs had changed, rewriting themselves into something new.
Hands shaking, she scanned the page—
And then her breath caught.
A name she had never seen before.
A name she somehow recognized.
The man at her door.