Chapter 4

That night, I left every light in the apartment on and sat on the couch until morning.

I showed up to work the next day with dark circles under both eyes.

I couldn't focus on anything. My mind kept drifting back to the night before.

The moment the workday finally ended, I rushed home and went straight to Zoe's door.

It opened.

Zoe was wearing an oversized white button-down, her hair messy, her face drained of all color.

"Zoe, what happened? Where were you last night?" I grabbed her hand — it was ice cold.

"Abby..." The moment she saw me, her eyes filled with tears. "He came back. That bastard came back last night."

My chest tightened. "Did he hurt you?"

Zoe shook her head, her jaw clenched. "No. He just came to get his things. He wants a divorce — and he wants me to walk away with nothing."

"Are you serious?!" I was furious. "He's the one who cheated. He's the one who's been stalking someone. And he has the nerve to kick you out with nothing?"

"That's exactly why we need proof." Zoe grabbed my hand, her eyes burning with intensity. "Abby — the camera. Whatever happened last night, the camera caught it."

Right. The camera.

I pulled her into my apartment and locked the door behind us.

Zoe took out her phone, pulled up the app connected to the hidden camera, and scrolled back to last night's footage.

We sat side by side on the couch, eyes glued to the screen.

The image was sharp and clear.

The hallway was empty, the motion-sensor light flickering on and off every now and then.

Time ticked by, second by second.

We dragged the progress bar to 9:30 PM.

Then a figure appeared in the frame.

My heart leapt into my throat.

But when the figure stepped fully into view, I froze.

It wasn't the man in the black trench coat.

It was a woman.

Wearing the same beige coat I'd had on yesterday. Carrying my bag.

It was me.

The woman on screen didn't do what I remembered. She didn't stop at the door, hear a noise, back away, and call the police.

She walked straight to my door, pulled out her keys, unlocked it, and went inside.

Then the door closed.

No hesitation. No panic. No retreat to the elevator lobby.

I stared at the screen, my mind completely blank.

"What... what is this?" I stammered. "I could have sworn I..."

"You could have sworn what?" Zoe turned to look at me, her expression cold.

The look in her eyes sent a chill straight through me.

I stared at her now — not with that pitiful, helpless look she'd worn before. This was different. This was scrutiny. Cold, mocking scrutiny.

"I heard something inside, so I didn't go in — I stepped back and called the police!" I said desperately. "The cops came! They actually showed up!"

"The police?" Zoe let out a cold laugh. "Abby, look at the footage carefully. Did any cops show up last night?"

I snatched the phone out of her hand and frantically dragged the progress bar forward.

9:40. 10:00. 11:00…

The hallway was empty.

No police.

No one had come at all.

According to the security footage, I walked through the door at 9:30 — and never came back out.

"That's impossible… this is absolutely impossible!" I threw the phone onto the couch and grabbed my head with both hands. "I called the police. I talked to them. The footage is fake. Someone tampered with it!"

"Abby, calm down." Zoe's voice dropped suddenly, soft and drifting, like it was floating. "The footage wasn't tampered with. It's you… you're not well."

"I'm perfectly fine!" I shot to my feet and pointed straight at her. "It's you! You did this, didn't you? You and that psycho husband of yours cooked this whole thing up to mess with me!"

Zoe looked at me, and something flickered in her eyes — a flash of sadness.

"Abby, really look at me." She stood up and moved toward me, one slow step at a time. "Don't you think… we look alike?"

I froze.

I stared hard at Zoe's face.

Before, I'd just thought we clicked — that we had some natural chemistry. But now, looking closely…

Her brows. Her nose. That tiny mole on her chin.

Aside from the heavy makeup and the way she carried herself — more mature, more striking — her features were identical to mine. Every single one.

"Who… who are you?" I backed away, step by step, until my back hit the cold wall behind me.

"Who am I?" Zoe smiled — and tears spilled down her face. "Abby, I'm the coward inside you. The part of you that's too scared to face the truth."

"You're out of your mind!" I pressed my hands over my ears and shook my head frantically.

"Am I? Then tell me — why are we both allergic to mango? Why do we both always order extra cheese? And why is there a wine-red silk slip in your closet that's exactly like mine?"

Each word Zoe spoke hit like a blade driving straight through my skull.

And then I remembered.

That wine-red silk slip — I'd bought it last month. Never worn it, because I thought it was too revealing.

But the night Zoe first knocked on my door, that was exactly what she had on.

"You lied to me… you lied to me!" I screamed, completely falling apart. "I'm calling the police! I'm going to find that officer from last night!"

I fumbled with my phone, frantically scrolling through last night's call history.

Nothing.

There was no record of calling 911. Not a single one.

Just one outgoing call to an unsaved number I didn't recognize.

Duration: two minutes.

I stared at the digits on the screen — and felt a strange, unsettling sense of familiarity wash over me.

"Go ahead." Zoe stood over me, looking down. "Call it. See who picks up."

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone.

I pressed dial and switched it to speaker.

Ring… ring…

Two rings. Then someone answered.

"Hello?"

A low, hoarse voice came through — heavy with exhaustion.

It was him. The man I'd pepper-sprayed by the elevator.

"Who… who are you?" I heard my own voice trembling.

Silence on the other end.

It stretched so long I thought he'd hung up.

Then the voice came back — cracked, broken, like something inside him was shattering.

"Abby, have you forgotten me again?" he said. "It's Eric. I'm your husband."