Chapter 3

With his confirmation, I went into the kitchen to start cooking.

The TV in the living room was still on, acting as white noise.

As I washed the tomatoes for the pasta sauce, my mind wandered back to Ethan’s bizarre behavior over the past few days. While I was lost in thought, the news anchor’s voice suddenly interrupted the program again:

"We have an update on the male body recovered from Swan Lake last week. The victim has been officially identified."

"The deceased is Ethan, male..."

*Boom.*

My brain exploded once again.

Behind me, the front door gently clicked open. Ethan’s warm voice filled the room:

"Honey, I’m home."

I trembled all over. I whipped around, pointing the kitchen knife at him.

"Who the hell are you?"

Ethan looked genuinely surprised. He didn't understand what was happening until he saw the TV screen.

He explained again that he just shared the same name as the dead man. The age and occupation didn't match. It was just a coincidence.

I nodded, letting my guard down.

He gently took the knife from my hand and hugged me to comfort me.

Then, he half-pushed, half-guided me out of the kitchen.

...

Wait. Why did I say "again"?

A flash of memory crossed my mind, but it was too fast. I couldn't grasp it.

All I could do was awkwardly try to test Ethan during dinner.

The savory pasta, the fork standing upright in the plate, the picked-out onions.

And my mother's birthday.

Ethan answered everything perfectly. But something still felt incredibly off.

What exactly was wrong?

Lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

It wasn't until Ethan climbed into bed, pulled me into his chest, asked me how I was feeling, and promised to take me grocery shopping tomorrow that I finally felt a wave of sleepiness. I fell asleep in his arms.

Once again, I woke up in the middle of the night. I noticed Ethan had slipped away to the study.

A thick, heavy sleepiness tried to drag me back down. I knew I should just close my eyes.

And wake up tomorrow.

But just as I was about to close my eyes, my phone on the nightstand suddenly lit up.

It buzzed three times.

Curious about who would text me at this hour, I fought the sleepiness and opened the message.

*Hello, this is the locksmith dispatcher. I am so sorry to bother you at this hour.*

*Regarding the study lock appointment you booked this afternoon, our technician won't be able to make it tomorrow. He has a sudden family emergency and took leave. Could you try another company, or would you like to reschedule with us?*

*If you choose to reschedule, we can offer you a thirty percent discount. Would that work?*

I glanced at the time.

**12:01 AM.**

It was already the next day, May 14th.

But I had absolutely no memory of calling a locksmith today.

We have spare keys for every lock in this house.

Why would I book a locksmith?

Suddenly, I remembered Ethan leaving the bed just now.

A familiar, suffocating panic rushed over me, and chaotic memories flooded my brain like a broken dam.

Instinctively, I reached my hand under my pillow.

Sure enough, a small paring knife was tucked neatly underneath.

I had put it there. My past self.

I slid the knife up my sleeve with practiced ease, as if I had done this a thousand times before.

I stood up and walked toward the study.

Without even knocking, I placed my hand on the doorknob.

*Click.*

The door opened easily. The study was pitch black. I couldn't see a thing.

But just as I reached out to search the wall for the light switch...

My wrist.

Was suddenly grabbed by a cold hand.

Ethan's deep, low voice echoed in the darkness:

"Lily, you found out anyway."

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