The red dress felt heavier this time.
Maya stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bedroom, staring at her reflection. The silk clung to her hips like a second skin, the crimson fabric catching the dim light of the vanity. It was the same dress from yesterday. Or rather, the same dress from the future that no longer existed.
She ran her thumb over her palm. The skin was smooth. The red indentation from the steak knife was gone, wiped away by the reset. But the memory of the pressure was there, a ghost sensation that throbbed whenever she clenched her fist.
Matter remembers, she thought. And if matter remembers, maybe energy does too.
"Maya?" Julian's voice drifted from the living room. "She's here."
Maya took a deep breath. She applied a layer of dark lipstick, transforming her mouth into a wound. She wasn't just dressing for dinner; she was dressing for battle.
She walked out into the living area.
The scene was set. The candles were back, though fewer of them this time—Julian had opted for a sleeker, more modern aesthetic. The jazz record was replaced by low-fi ambient beats. And standing by the window, glass of champagne in hand, was the variable.
Her name was Elena.
Maya knew this because Julian had briefed her earlier, handing her a dossier like she was an espionage agent. Elena Vance. Thirty-two. CEO of a rival biotech firm. Sharp, ambitious, and stunningly beautiful in a way that was the complete opposite of Maya. Where Maya was soft edges and dark curls, Elena was architectural—blonde bob cut sharp as a razor, silver sheath dress, ice-blue eyes.
"And here she is," Julian said, turning as Maya entered. He slipped an arm around Elena's waist—familiar, possessive. "Maya, this is Elena. We went to Cambridge together."
Elena smiled. It was a shark's smile, all teeth and calculation. "Julian talks about you constantly. The mysterious muse."
"And he talks about you," Maya lied smoothly, walking forward. "The one who got away."
Julian's eyes lit up. He liked that. It was unscripted, a little bite of jealousy to start the scene. He wanted drama. He wanted a catfight.
"Champagne?" Julian offered, handing Maya a flute.
Maya took it. As her fingers brushed the cold glass, the world stuttered.
For a fraction of a second, the living room vanished. The sleek furniture was gone, replaced by rotting wood and rusted metal. The view of Seattle outside was replaced by a swirling vortex of grey ash. Elena wasn't standing there; a skeleton in a tattered silver dress was.
Then, snap.
The room was back. The champagne bubbled. Elena was alive and smiling.
Maya blinked rapidly, the afterimage of the skeleton burning in her retinas. She gripped the glass so hard she feared it would shatter.
"Are you alright?" Elena asked, tilting her head. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Just a migraine," Maya murmured. "The weather."
"Of course," Julian said, his voice dripping with faux-sympathy. "Maya is very sensitive to... atmospheric pressure changes. Shall we sit?"
The dinner was a masterclass in humiliation.
They sat at the same table as the previous loop, but the dynamic had shifted. Julian ignored Maya almost entirely. He focused his laser-like intensity on Elena, laughing at her jokes, leaning in close when she spoke about market shares and quantum computing.
"The issue with time," Julian said, cutting into his sea bass, "is that people think it's a river. Flowing in one direction."
"And you don't?" Elena asked, toying with her necklace. She was clearly enjoying the attention. She had no idea she was flirting with a man who had murdered his girlfriend over a hundred times in this very room.
"I think time is a hard drive," Julian said. He glanced at Maya, his eyes dark with amusement. "And sometimes, the data gets corrupted. Sometimes, you have to reformat the disk to get the operating system running smoothly."
"You're such a nerd, Julian," Elena laughed, touching his arm.
Maya sat in silence, pushing her food around her plate. The "Bleed" was getting worse. Every time she looked at Elena, she saw flashes of death.
Flash. Elena with a knife in her chest.
Flash. Elena choking on foam.
Flash. Elena falling from the balcony.
Maya realized with a sickening jolt that she wasn't hallucinating random deaths. She was seeing potential futures. Julian hadn't just brought Elena here to make Maya jealous. He had brought her here to see how she would die.
"So, Maya," Elena said, turning her icy gaze on the silent girl in the red dress. "Julian tells me you're a student. Psychology?"
"Yes," Maya said. Her voice sounded hollow.
"Fascinating. I always found psychology a bit... soft. I prefer hard science. Things you can measure. Things you can control."
"People aren't things," Maya said quietly.
"Aren't they?" Elena smirked. "We're just biological machines. Inputs and outputs. If you press the right buttons, you get the right reaction."
Julian clapped his hands together softly. "Exactly! That's what I've been telling her. Inputs and outputs."
He looked at Maya, his eyes conveying a clear message: Give me the output I want. Give me the scream. Give me the tears.
Maya looked at the knife on the table. She looked at Julian's wrist, where the violet watch hummed.
She felt a surge of rage so hot it almost blinded her. But it wasn't the jealous rage Julian wanted. It was protective.
Elena was awful. She was arrogant and condescending. But she was alive. She was a real person with a life outside this apartment, outside this loop. And Julian was going to snuff her out just to see if Maya would cry about it.
"Run," Maya whispered.
The table went silent.
"Excuse me?" Elena asked, frowning.
Maya looked up. Her eyes were burning. "Get out. Now."
Julian's smile faltered. This wasn't the script.
"Maya, you've had too much to drink," Julian said, his voice possessing that dangerous, calm edge. "Why don't you go lie down?"
"He's going to kill you," Maya said, her voice rising, trembling with the force of the truth. She looked directly at Elena. "He's not flirting with you. He's bored. He's lived this day a hundred and forty-five times, and you're just a new toy."
Elena laughed, an uncertain, nervous sound. "Okay, wow. This is... intense. Julian, your girlfriend is—"
"Crazy," Julian finished. He stood up. "I'm so sorry, Elena. She has episodes."
"I'm not crazy!" Maya shouted. She stood up, her chair crashing backward. "Look at his watch! It's not a watch! It's a trigger! If you don't leave right now, you're never leaving this room!"
Elena stood up, grabbing her purse. She looked terrified now. "I think I should go."
"No one is going anywhere," Julian said.
He didn't shout. He didn't have to. He simply walked to the door and engaged the deadbolt. The lock clicked with a sound like a gunshot.
He turned around. The charm was gone. The mask had slipped. He looked at Maya with pure, unadulterated disappointment.
"You ruined the scene," he said flatly. "We hadn't even gotten to dessert."
"Let her go, Julian," Maya pleaded, stepping between him and Elena.
"I can't do that," Julian said. "She's a variable now. She knows too much. If she leaves, she talks. If she talks, my work is compromised."
Elena was backing away, fumbling for her phone. "I'm calling the police."
"No signal," Julian said casually. "Faraday cage in the walls. I really do think of everything."
He began to walk toward them. He wasn't rushing. He was strolling.
"Please," Elena whimpered. "I won't say anything. I swear."
Julian sighed. He raised his wrist.
"It doesn't matter, Elena. None of this matters. We'll just try again. Maybe next time, I'll bring a brunette."
He reached for the bezel of the watch.
"NO!" Maya screamed.
She didn't lunge for Julian. She lunged for Elena.
If she couldn't stop Julian, maybe she could save the variable. Maybe if she pushed Elena out of the "fishbowl" before the reset...
Maya tackled Elena. They hit the floor together in a tangle of limbs and silk.
"Get off me!" Elena shrieked.
"Don't let go!" Maya yelled, grabbing Elena's wrist.
Julian stood over them. He looked down, shaking his head.
"Messy," he commented. "Very messy."
He pressed the button.
CLICK.
The world dissolved. The floor fell away. The white blindness rushed in like a tidal wave.
But Maya didn't let go.
She dug her nails into Elena's arm. She focused everything—every ounce of her will, every shred of her trauma, every looping memory—on that point of contact.
Matter remembers. Matter remembers.
She felt the familiar wrenching sensation of her soul being ripped backward through time. The nausea. The pain.
But she also felt something else.
Resistance.
Usually, the reset was instant. A blink. But this time, it felt like dragging a heavy weight through thick mud. The white void screamed around her. She heard Elena screaming too—a sound that shouldn't exist in the space between seconds.
Hold on, Maya thought. I am the anchor.
The screaming stopped abruptly.
7:00 AM.
Maya gasped, sitting bolt upright.
She was in the bed. Sunlight. Coffee smell.
She checked her body. No red dress. She was wearing her oversized t-shirt.
She checked the date on her phone. Tuesday, October 14th.
Loop 146.
She let out a shaky breath, burying her face in her hands. She had failed. Of course she had failed. You couldn't drag a person back through a reset. It was impossible.
"Maya?"
The voice didn't come from the kitchen. It came from the other side of the bed.
Maya froze.
Julian slept on the left side. She slept on the right. The voice had come from the left.
Slowly, terrifyingly, Maya turned her head.
Lying in the bed next to her, staring at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes, was Elena.
She was still wearing the silver dress from the dinner party. Her skin was grey. Her mouth was open in a silent scream.
She wasn't breathing.
Maya scrambled backward, falling off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud.
"Julian!" she screamed. "Julian!"
Julian appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee. He was wearing the grey sweatpants. He looked sleepy and confused.
"Maya?" he asked. "What's wrong? Another nightmare?"
"Look!" Maya pointed at the bed, her hand shaking violently. "Look what you did!"
Julian walked to the bed. He looked down at the corpse of the woman he hadn't met yet in this timeline.
For the first time in one hundred and forty-six loops, Julian dropped the coffee mugs.
They shattered on the floor, hot liquid splashing his bare feet. He didn't flinch.
He stared at Elena's body. He stared at the silver dress that shouldn't exist at 7:00 AM.
He looked at Maya. His face was pale. His eyes were wide with genuine shock.
"How?" he whispered. "How is she here?"
Maya stared at the dead woman.
She had tried to save her. She had held on.
She had succeeded.
She had dragged a corpse from the future into the past.
Maya looked up at Julian, and for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes. Not calculated fear. Real fear.
"I told you," Maya whispered, her voice trembling with a dark, newfound power. "I'm not just a variable, Julian."
She stood up, stepping over the shattered coffee mugs.
"I'm the virus."