I woke up before the rain this time.
That scared me more than anything else.
The room was quiet. No tapping. No soft sound to warn me. I sat up and listened. My heart beat slow, then fast, then slow again. After a moment, the rain began, like it had been waiting for me to notice.
I let out a breath.
I remembered everything again.
That made three times.
I went through the morning carefully, like I was walking on thin glass. I touched things on purpose. The bed. The wall. The door. I needed to feel that the world was still solid.
Outside, the street looked the same. The bakery sign swayed a little in the wind. The smell of bread floated out when the door opened. The bell rang.
The woman smiled.
I watched her eyes.
She smiled the same way. Said the same words. Nothing new there.
But when I turned to leave, I felt it.
That feeling again.
Like someone standing too close.
I stopped.
Someone bumped into me gently from behind.
"Oh," a voice said. Soft. Surprised.
I turned around.
She stood there holding a book to her chest. Dark hair pulled back. Eyes wide, like mine probably were. She looked at me, then frowned slightly.
Her lips parted.
"This already happened," she said.
My stomach dropped.
I stared at her. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest.
She took a step back.
"You remember too," she said. Not a question.
I shook my head fast. Too fast. Fear rushed through me. I wanted to say no. I wanted to walk away. But my body would not listen.
"Yes," I whispered.
Her shoulders sagged. Relief and fear crossed her face at the same time. She pressed the book tighter to her chest.
"I thought I was losing my mind," she said quietly.
The rain stopped outside.
All at once.
We both looked toward the door.
She swallowed.
"So it is not just me," she said.
I shook my head again. Slower this time.
"No," I said. My voice felt small. "It keeps repeating."
She nodded. Once. Twice. Like she was holding herself together.
We stood there for a moment, saying nothing. People moved around us. The bakery noise filled the space. But it felt like the world had stepped away and left just the two of us behind.
I did not trust her yet.
How could I.
This could be another trick. Another test. Another lie.
She seemed to feel that. She did not step closer. She did not smile.
"My name does not matter," she said softly. "Not yet."
That scared me again.
I nodded anyway.
We walked out together. Not side by side. Just close enough to know the other was there. The street froze for a breath. People paused. A bird hung in the air.
Then everything moved again.
She gasped.
I did too.
Tears filled her eyes. She laughed once, sharp and broken.
"Oh," she said. "You saw that too."
I nodded.
We did not talk much after that. Words felt fragile. Like if we used too many, they would break something.
At the crosswalk, we stopped.
The light was green.
She looked at me. Her eyes asked a question she did not say.
I shook my head slowly.
We waited.
The light turned red.
Cars stopped. A man nearby began to hum.
She flinched.
I closed my eyes.
Nothing happened.
No white. No pull.
We both breathed out at the same time.
She wiped her face with her sleeve.
"So," she said, very quietly. "It listens."
I felt a strange warmth in my chest. Fear was still there. But it was not alone anymore.
"No," I said. "We listen."
That night, when I lay in bed, my thoughts would not slow down. Another person remembered. Another mind trapped like mine.
That changed everything.
The loop was no longer mine alone.
And somehow, that made it more dangerous.
And also harder to face alone.