The alarm buzzed.Again.
Eli smacked it off. Same shitty morning. Same clock, same sun, same street outside pretending life wasn't on repeat.
He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. "Fuck this," he muttered. "How many times am I supposed to do this?"
No one answered. No one ever did.
Every day was a stage play with the same goddamn actors, smiling, laughing, eating breakfast like they weren't about to vanish at midnight. Eli had stopped trying to warn them months ago. Nobody remembered. Nobody cared.
But today… something felt different.
He threw on his jacket and walked out. The streets buzzed with life—fruit vendors shouting, buses honking, kids running late to school. Too normal. Too fake.
Then he saw her.
Sitting at a corner café, pen scratching across the back of a napkin, was a girl. Black hair, sharp eyes, the kind of presence that made the whole world blur around her. She wasn't just there—she was awake.
Eli froze mid-step. No way.
As if she sensed him staring, the girl's gaze snapped up. And fuck—she was looking right at him.
Her eyes widened. Not in confusion. Not in ignorance.Recognition.
She stood, leaving her coffee behind. Walked straight across traffic like she didn't give a damn if a car hit her.
Eli's pulse hammered. Don't say it. Don't you dare—
"You." Her voice was low, steady. "You were there last night."
The words slammed into him. He felt like the ground just cracked open beneath his feet. Nobody ever said that to him. Not once.
He swallowed, throat dry. "Yeah… and you—holy shit—you remember too."
The girl nodded. A flicker of pain crossed her face. Not relief. Not joy.Sorrow.
"My name's Sara," she said. Her tone was flat, like she'd been carrying this truth for too long. "And I've watched you die. Over and over again."
Eli's stomach dropped. "…What?"
Sara didn't blink. "Every loop. Every reset. You fight. You bleed. You fucking die. And then everything goes back to zero. And I'm the only one who remembers it with you."
For a long moment, Eli couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
He wasn't alone. Finally.
But her eyes told him something worse—this wasn't a blessing.
It was a curse.