Mag-log inKara’s povI locked the apartment door behind me and leaned against it for a second longer than necessary. The sandwich sat like lead in my stomach. Outside, the city kept moving like nothing had changed. Inside my head, the name on the screen still burned.Marcus.I set the phone on the kitchen table without opening the full message and walked to the sink. Cold water on my wrists. Slow breaths. The old version of me would have already typed three different replies, curious, careful, maybe even hopeful. That version had spent years trying to understand why the man she married could look her in the eye and still choose himself every single time.I dried my hands and picked the phone back up.The full text waited.Hey. Been thinking about you. Free to talk later? No pressure. Just feels like we left things unfinished.Unfinished.I almost laughed. The only unfinished business between us was the part where he walked away while I bled out. In this timeline that moment still sat five yea
Kara’s povThe notification sat on my phone like a small, polite trap.Lunch with Selene. 1:00 p.m. The little Italian place near the river that still put too much garlic in the bread and charged extra for water. We had made the plan two weeks ago in this timeline before I died, before I came back. In my old life, lunch had happened. I smiled through it, paid for both of us because Selene “forgot” her card again, and listened to her complain about her boyfriend for an hour while my own problems stayed locked behind my teeth.I stared at the reminder until the screen dimmed.Old habits rose first. The soft voice in my head that still wanted to be liked. Just go. It’s only an hour. She’ll be hurt if you cancel at the last minute. You can use the time to fish for information.I set the phone face-down on the table and walked to the window.Traffic moved below in the same ordinary patterns as yesterday. People with plans. People who still believed the future would look roughly like the pr
Kara’s povI sat at the small kitchen table with a blank notebook open in front of me and a pen that still had most of its ink. The coffee had gone cold an hour ago. I didn’t care.Writing things down felt necessary. Memory was sharp, but paper didn’t lie to itself the way a tired mind could.I started with the big dates.First public signs: red moon, five years and three months from today. The news would call it a celestial anomaly. Most people would treat it like a pretty sky event and post pictures. Three weeks after that, the first localized power failures. Two months later, the food shortages in the coastal cities. By the end of year one, the mutations would no longer be rumors.I wrote the sequence in clean bullet points. My handwriting looked neater than it had any right to after years of writing with shaking, half-frozen fingers.Next came the people.Marcus – construction crew lead, charming, always knew how to make himself the center of any group. In the old timeline he had
Kara’s povMorning light crept across the floorboards in thin golden strips. I hadn’t slept.I sat on the edge of the bed with my knees pulled up, my arms wrapped around them, staring at the same pale blue wall I had painted myself two years ago—or five years from now, in my previous life. The crack near the light fixture still looked like a question mark. Everything was exactly as I remembered it from before the world ended, and that fact alone kept my pulse uneven.My body felt wrong in the best way. No constant aches in my joints. No half-healed knife scars pulling at my skin whenever I breathed. The old fracture in my left wrist was gone. I kept flexing my fingers, watching the smooth skin stretch and fold as though it belonged to someone who had never been forced to dig graves in frozen ground.I stood and walked to the small mirror above the dresser.The face that looked back was mine at twenty-six. Clear eyes. No hollows under the cheekbones. Hair longer than I had kept it in
Kara’s POVThe rain had stopped sometime after midnight, but the cold never did. It lived in my bones now, just as hunger lived in my stomach. Both were constant, gnawing, and no longer sharp enough to surprise me.I lay half-curled against the collapsed concrete wall of what used to be a corner pharmacy, one hand pressed uselessly over the gash in my side.The bandage had soaked through hours ago. Blood mixed with the black grime on my fingers until I couldn’t tell which was which. Every breath scraped. Every small movement sent a white-hot thread of pain through my ribs.They had left me here on purpose.I could still hear Marcus’s voice, calm and reasonable, the way it always was when he was cutting someone loose.“She’s slowing us down. We can’t carry dead weight.”Sarah hadn’t even looked at me when she nodded. The same Sarah who once cried on my shoulder after her brother died. The same Marcus who had sworn, three winters ago, that we were family now.Family.The word tasted lik