I was working late at the office when a notification popped up on my phone: "Unusual vehicle motion detected." A cold dread washed over me. I opened my car's security app and tapped into the live interior camera feed. And there they were. My boyfriend, David, and my best friend, Zoe, having sex in the backseat of my car. White-hot rage flooded my system. I bolted from the office, sped home, and found my car parked in its usual spot. I yanked the back door open, a scream of accusation on my lips. But before I could speak, David looked up at me, his eyes wide and completely blank. "Who are you?" he asked. 1 I froze, the fury in my chest burning even hotter. So that was his game. The bastard gets caught red-handed and pretends not to know me, thinking he can just weasel his way out of it? I grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him, stark naked, out onto the pavement. Inside the car, Zoe shrieked, clutching the car blanket to her chest. "David, you son of a bitch!" I slapped him so hard he stumbled and fell. He scrambled backward, his eyes filled with genuine terror. "Lady, I know what we were doing wasn't exactly classy, but that's no reason to get violent." "Still playing dumb? Who are you calling 'lady'?" My patience snapped. I stared him down, but his expression remained one of pure, bewildered confusion. Even though it was late, the complex was full of people walking their dogs or enjoying the evening air. A small crowd was already starting to form. Panic flashed across David's face. He scrambled to his feet, shoving my hand away. "You're crazy! I don't know you! Get away from me, or I'm calling the cops!" Furious, I turned my attention back to the car, leaning in to glare at my so-called best friend. "Zoe, why would you do this? Why would you seduce my boyfriend?" "Who are you?" she screamed, her voice shrill with fear. "I don't know you! Help! Somebody help me!" "Get away from my wife!" David's roar was thunderous. He grabbed me, shoved me backward, and I fell hard onto the asphalt. My world tilted. The whispers of the onlookers reached my ears. "What's going on? Is she catching him cheating?" "That guy's a real piece of work. Hitting his own girlfriend for his mistress." "Hey, you've got it wrong. That couple lives downstairs from me. They've been married for ages. I've never seen this woman before." "What? Seriously? So… is she actually just crazy?" My head throbbed. The world spun around me, a chaotic blur of confused faces and accusatory whispers. Before I could process any of it, David and Zoe scrambled into the front seats and sped away. How could this be happening? The three of us—me, David, and Zoe—we grew up together. Twenty years of friendship, of shared history. And tonight, they not only betray me but act like I'm a complete stranger. I stumbled back to my apartment building in a daze, but when I tried my key, it wouldn't turn in the lock. No matter how many times I tried, the door wouldn't open. I slammed my fist against the wood in frustration and trudged back to the office. "Leah? Where'd you go?" My coworker, Sarah, asked, slurping a mouthful of instant noodles. I collapsed into my chair, my voice catching in my throat. "My boyfriend is cheating on me." Sarah paused, a noodle dangling from her lips. She gave me a strange look. "Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend?" 2 Her words were like a slap in the face. I shot to my feet. David used to bring me lunch every single day. There was no way Sarah didn't know him. Why was she playing dumb, too? I slammed my hand on the desk. "Why are you saying that? Are you in on it with those two?" Sarah put down her noodle cup, her expression shifting from confusion to concern. "Leah, you really don't have a boyfriend." "Yes, I do! We grew up together! We live together in Eastwood Estates!" Her look turned from concern to pity, with a hint of ridicule. "Leah, did you eat some bad takeout or something? A condo in Eastwood Estates costs millions. How could we, on our salaries, ever afford a place like that?" I stared at her, my blood running cold. I remembered being the sales manager, with a six-figure salary. A genuine fear, cold and sharp, began to pierce through my anger. My life, the one I remembered so clearly, didn't seem to exist. Where did it all go wrong? Over the next few days, I reached out to other friends. Every single one of them gave me the same story: they had never heard of David or Zoe. They scoffed at the idea that the CEO of a major tech firm like David would ever be interested in a "broke girl" like me. I retreated to my new reality—a cheap, cramped rental I apparently lived in—and sank onto the lumpy sofa, my mind reeling. Was I going crazy? Was this some kind of delusion? No. It couldn't be. They were all lying to me. This was a conspiracy. I clenched my fists. I would find out the truth myself. 3 I spent the next few days tailing David, and with every passing hour, my heart grew colder. He and Zoe were, by all accounts, a couple. Everyone in their circle treated them as such. It was as if I had been completely erased from their history. David was the CEO of the city's largest publicly traded company. Zoe had been parachuted into my company as the new sales manager—the very position that, in my memory, was mine. Somehow, Zoe hadn't just stolen my boyfriend. She had stolen my entire life. I refused to accept it. There had to be a rational explanation, a plot behind all this. I decided my only option was to break into the condo at Eastwood Estates—the home that was supposed to be mine. If there was any evidence of my old life, it would be there. Eastwood Estates was a high-end, exclusive community. Normally, a stranger wouldn't be able to get past the front gate. But on the night I caught them, the security guard hadn't stopped me. That meant he must have recognized me. This time, however, when I approached the gate, he blocked my path. "Residents only," he said, his face a stern mask. "I am a resident. I live in building two, apartment 305." The guard hesitated for a fraction of a second. "That's Mr. Sterling's residence. Who are you to him?" I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "You really don't recognize me?" His eyes flickered away for a second before he cleared his throat. "Ma'am, please maintain a respectful distance. I don't know you. If you have no further business here, I have to ask you to leave." I sighed and turned away, feigning defeat. But I knew a secret. There was a service entrance on the far side of the property, an unmonitored back way in, designed for discretion. I slipped through it and made my way to what I still considered my home. I didn't have a key, but I'd taken a lock-picking course for fun years ago. After a few tense minutes of work, the lock clicked open. As I pushed the door, I felt a sudden prickling sensation on the back of my neck, as if someone was watching me. I spun around, but the hallway was empty. I slipped inside, closing the door silently behind me. The apartment was mostly as I remembered it. The furniture, the layout—it was all familiar. Where to start? I walked into the bedroom. The blue comforter was the same. My vanity table was still in the corner. The only difference was that all the photos of David and me had been replaced with photos of him and Zoe. I searched frantically, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Then, in the back of the closet, I found it: a beautifully bound journal. I didn't remember David ever keeping a diary. This had to be it. This had to hold the answers to what had happened. My heart hammered in my chest. I was about to open it when I heard the sound of a key in the front door lock. I spun around in terror. A second later, the door swung open. 4 A man and a woman stumbled in, locked in a passionate embrace, their moans and whispers filling the apartment. It was David and Zoe. "Hey, what's the rush? What if someone saw us?" Zoe giggled. "Don't worry, it's fine. I've missed you like crazy." They kicked off their shoes and tumbled onto the bed, their clothes falling in a heap on the floor, just inches from my face. I flattened myself under the bed, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. The irony was suffocating. I was the rightful partner, yet here I was, hiding under the bed like a common mistress. The bed frame began to creak rhythmically. Between gasps, they started talking. "So, tell me again," Zoe said. "Who was that crazy woman the other night? Why did she say she was your girlfriend?" "Oh, her? Just some lunatic. I have no idea how the security guard let her in." "You're sure you're not sleeping with her?" "Silly girl," David murmured. "My heart belongs only to you. Besides, you saw her. She was so plain. Definitely not my type." "Hmph. That's more like it." I ground my teeth in fury. But a horrifying realization dawned on me. This wasn't an act. They weren't trying to deceive me anymore. I wasn't here. They truly didn't know who I was. What the hell was going on? How could my entire life be rewritten overnight? Were my memories all fake? As I wrestled with these impossible questions, the sounds from the bed grew more intense. Suddenly, Zoe let out a sharp cry. It wasn't a sound of pleasure. It was a scream of pure, unadulterated pain. Before I could process what was happening, her scream turned into a blood-curdling shriek. The bed began to shake violently. A torrent of warm, sticky liquid streamed down the side of the mattress, pooling on the floor in front of me. The coppery stench of blood filled my nostrils. Then, something round and heavy rolled off the edge of the bed and landed with a wet thud right in front of me. It was Zoe’s severed head. Her terrified eyes were wide open, staring directly into mine.
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