1 I deleted my million-follower account. Followers were baffled—was I hacked? Osprey, a rival influencer, DM'd me: "Why quit? Are you insane?" I ignored the noise and disappeared into the world's quiet beauty. In my past life, our content was identical. The internet branded me a knockoff. Hate flooded my DMs, spilled into real life. I posted timestamps proving my originality—they called me a liar The bullying crushed me. One day, alone in my apartment, I ended it all. Yet I woke up—rebirth on the day of my first "coincidental" video clash with Osprey. My finger hovered over "Publish," one click from ruining my life. I recoiled like touching flame. Saved to drafts. Checked Osprey's page—her latest post, a radical departure from her usual bland style, already had tens of thousands of likes in 30 minutes. Comments raged: "Holy crap—dark fantasy final boss vibes!" "Small creator doing million-follower work? Unreal." "MY WIFE. WHO STOLE MY FUTURE WIFE?!" ... The dark background, the audacious styling, even the camera angles, the background music, and the caption—every single detail was a perfect mirror of the video sitting in my drafts. If I didn't know for a fact that the concept was sparked by a British drama I’d been bingeing, that I had pulled all-nighters scripting it, I would have doubted my own originality. But the reality was cold and hard: Osprey had beaten me to it. And she had gone viral because of it. Last time, that single video had unleashed a firestorm of hate on me. I’d posted it, my heart full of hope, expecting praise and validation. Instead, the comments accused me of plagiarism, with users helpfully linking to the “original.” I clicked the link. And there it was. Osprey’s video, posted just before mine. The similarity was a staggering 99.9%. But I knew I hadn't copied anyone. Fury burned through me. To prove my innocence, I released my creation timestamps and BTS footage. It was useless. Osprey produced her own “proof,” with timestamps that were even earlier than mine. The attacks intensified. “Guess she had this ‘proof’ ready from the start, just to slander Osprey.” “Support original creators! Down with copycats!” “Ava needs to get out of the beauty space. The internet isn't for you, honey.” “LMAO, she asked for it and she got it.” Osprey’s management team and agency issued formal statements, swearing their work was the product of team collaboration and that they had never plagiarized anyone. I was just an independent creator. Everything, from start to finish, was done by me, and me alone. I had no one to vouch for me. And then, my boyfriend, Liam, posted a video unilaterally announcing our breakup. He claimed my previous content was all just a patchwork of ideas stitched together from other creators. He called me a serial plagiarist. His words were the final nail in the coffin. I was plunged into a bottomless abyss. My comment sections were overrun by self-righteous crusaders. The abuse in my DMs was unspeakable. The constant pressure snuffed out my creative spark. No brands would work with me. My finances dwindled. After my self-harm spiraled, I finally saw a therapist and was diagnosed with severe depression. On a bright, sunny afternoon, in a cramped little apartment, I chose to end my life. And then I woke up, back where it all began. Nothing has happened yet. This time, I will find out the truth. 2 Clinging to a sliver of hope, I switched to my burner account and started digging through Osprey’s other social media profiles. It was a long shot; she wasn't the type to share her day-to-day life. I was about to give up when I saw it. A familiar figure in the background of a group photo. I zoomed in on the live photo. The motion captured the person’s left hand. On it was a ring I knew all too well. It was Liam’s hand. The ring had been my first-anniversary gift to him. I had personally selected the design and had it custom-made. There was no other like it in the world. So, at some point, Liam had gotten involved with Osprey behind my back. No wonder he’d been so quick to abandon me, so eager to throw his support behind her. I didn’t have time to mourn the scumbag. My mind was racing. I often vented to Liam about my work, sharing my half-formed ideas and flashes of inspiration with him. Had he leaked my concepts to her? It was highly likely. But he’d been on a “business trip” for a while now, and there was no way he’d let me look at his phone. I had no concrete proof. Still, it was a lead. A place to start. I took out my phone, sent Liam the photo with a brief explanation, and told him we were done. Then I blocked him. Next, I changed the passcode on my front door. With that settled, I forced myself to focus on a new video concept. There could be no mistakes this time. To be completely safe, I decided to pivot again. My last video was my first attempt at breaking out of my comfort zone, ditching my usual sweet, girl-next-door style for something bold and glamorous. Since that aesthetic had resonated so powerfully, I was confident my next creation would be even more popular. After a long bout of brainstorming, I finally finished the script. Looking at the concept on my computer, I let out a satisfied laugh. Let’s see her steal this one. To prevent any possible leaks, I shot the entire video inside my apartment, then edited it myself. Staring at the finished product, I felt a surge of pride. I was born for this. To be absolutely certain, I did one more thing. I went to Osprey’s viral video and left a comment from my burner. “Can’t wait for your next video, queen! Drop it soon!” She replied not long after. “This last concept took a lot out of me, so I probably won't be posting for a little while. ” I replied with a crying cat emoji and breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed she had no plans to post anytime soon. It confirmed my theory: she must have gotten the last idea from Liam and rushed to produce it. But could two people’s ideas really be that identical? For now, I had to chalk it up to a bizarre coincidence, a freak alignment of creative vision. I uploaded my new video to the platform’s backend, polished the caption, and prepared to publish. Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone from my burner account. I tapped on it. My blood ran cold.
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