I don’t remember sending it.
That’s the problem.
I remember everything else—what I ate that night, the show I half-watched, the exact moment I decided I was too tired to stay up any longer. I even remember plugging my phone in before I went to sleep.
But I don’t remember texting her.
Still, there it was.
At 2:41 a.m.
A message sent from my phone to Mia:
“Don’t come tomorrow.”
I stared at the screen, heart pounding.
“Did I…?” I whispered.
No. I would’ve remembered.
Wouldn’t I?
I scrolled up.
Our last real conversation was normal—plans to meet, nothing strange. No argument. No reason to cancel.
And definitely no reason to sound like that.
Cold.
Flat.
Like a warning.
I typed quickly:
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to send that.”
Delivered.
Read.
The typing dots appeared… then stopped.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Finally, she replied:
“You told me not to come. So I didn’t.”
I frowned.
“You mean today? I just woke up.”
Three dots again.
Longer this time.
Then—
“No.”
“I mean last night.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“Mia, I was asleep.”
No reply.
I called her.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then voicemail.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Call me back. Something weird is going on.”
I hung up and checked the message again.
2:41 a.m.
That was when I was asleep.
I knew I was asleep.
I felt like I had been.
But something didn’t sit right.
Like a memory just out of reach.
I opened my photos.
Scrolled.
Nothing unusual.
Then I noticed a video.
Recorded at 2:40 a.m.
My stomach dropped.
I don’t record videos at night.
Ever.
With shaking hands, I tapped it.
The screen was black at first.
Then it adjusted.
It was my room.
Dark.
Quiet.
Filmed from across the space.
From the corner.
But I don’t have a camera there.
The angle was wrong.
Too high.
Too still.
And then—
I saw myself.
Sleeping in bed.
Completely still.
The blanket rising and falling with each breath.
I let out a shaky breath. “What the hell…”
The video continued.
Thirty seconds.
Forty.
A minute.
Nothing changed.
Until—
I moved.
Not slowly.
Not like waking up.
I sat up all at once.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
Like something had pulled me upright.
In the video, my head turned.
Directly toward the camera.
My eyes were open.
But I knew that wasn’t right.
Because I wasn’t awake.
I couldn’t have been.
The version of me on screen smiled.
Wide.
Wrong.
And then—
It spoke.
Not loud.
But clear.
“She can’t come tomorrow.”
The video ended.
I dropped my phone.
My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t pick it back up.
“That’s not real,” I whispered. “That’s not real.”
But it was.
The timestamp didn’t lie.
The footage didn’t lie.
And my phone—
My phone had been on the nightstand.
Right next to me.
So what recorded that?
My screen lit up suddenly.
An incoming message.
From Mia.
I grabbed the phone.
“I didn’t come because you told me not to.”
“But I still went to your apartment.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
The reply came instantly.
“I stood outside your door.”
“At 2:45.”
My throat tightened.
That was four minutes after the message.
After the video.
After… whatever that was.
I typed slowly:
“Why didn’t you come in?”
The typing dots appeared.
Stopped.
Then appeared again.
Like she was hesitating.
Finally—
“Because I heard you inside.”
My hands trembled.
“I was inside.”
A pause.
Then—
“No.”
“You were talking to someone.”
I stared at the words.
My heart thudding in my ears.
“What did you hear?”
The typing dots came back.
Stayed longer this time.
Then—
“You said my name.”
“But your voice sounded wrong.”
A chill crawled up my spine.
“What do you mean?”
Another pause.
Longer.
Then the message appeared.
Slowly.
Like she didn’t want to send it.
“It sounded like you were smiling.”
The lights in my room flickered.
I froze.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message from Mia.
“And there was someone else with you.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
No response.
I called her again.
Straight to voicemail.
“Mia, stop. This isn’t funny,” I said, my voice breaking. “Call me back. Please.”
Silence.
Then—
From the other side of my room—
A sound.
Soft.
Barely there.
Like a phone vibrating.
But I only had one.
Didn’t I?
I turned slowly.
The corner of the room.
The same angle as the video.
There was something there now.
Something small.
Dark.
A phone.
Facing me.
Its screen lit up.
Recording.
My own phone buzzed in my hand.
Another message.
From Mia.
Or at least…
From her number.
“I’m still outside.”
My heart stopped.
I looked toward the door.
Then back at the second phone in the corner.
Still recording.
Still watching.
My hands shook as I typed:
“If you’re outside… then who’s been texting me?”
The reply came immediately.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Behind me—
A voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
“…don’t worry…”
I felt breath on the back of my neck.
Warm.
Close.
“…this one wasn’t yours either.”
Write by : Endomarfa
