SHE HID A PHOTO OF US IN HER PURSE — WE NEVER TOOK ONE
I was helping her clean out her purse when the photo slipped out, and my heart stopped. It was us, in the park, laughing like we hadn’t a care in the world. But we’ve never been to that park.
“What is this?” I asked, holding it up. Her face went pale, and she snatched it back. “It’s nothing,” she said, her voice shaking. But her hands were trembling too, the edges of the photo crumpling under her grip. The scent of her lavender hand lotion filled the air, mixing with the sudden tension.
I pressed her. “Who took this?” She looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator in the next room. “You don’t get it,” she finally whispered. “It’s not what you think.”
But I saw it in her eyes — the guilt, the fear. I grabbed her arm, not hard, just enough to make her look at me. “Then tell me what it is.” She pulled away, tears spilling over. “I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking.
Then her phone buzzed on the table, and the screen lit up with a text: *I can’t wait to see you again.*
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*I stared at the phone, the words on the screen blurring through a fresh wave of tears. “Who is that?” I asked, my voice barely a croak. She flinched, then reached for the phone, but I was quicker. I snatched it up, my hands shaking. I tapped on the message.
*Meet me at the park. The one from the photo.*
My breath hitched. The park. The photo. It all clicked into place, a sickening understanding flooding me. This wasn’t a secret romance. This was something else, something far stranger. “The park…” I repeated, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “You’re going to meet them there?”
She nodded, her face a mask of fear and resignation. “Yes, but please, you don’t understand…”
“Then help me understand!” I pleaded. “Who is it? What’s going on?”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and finally, spoke. “It’s…my past self. Or, a version of me, from a different time.”
My jaw dropped. Time travel? It sounded ludicrous, something out of a bad sci-fi movie. But the photo, the text, her reaction…it all suddenly made a terrifying kind of sense. “What are you talking about?”
“There are… echoes,” she explained, her voice trembling. “Moments, possibilities, that exist in different timelines. We…we met in one. And that photo…it’s a memento. Proof.”
“And the park?” I pressed.
“A nexus point,” she whispered. “Where the timelines converge. Where we can…connect.”
My mind reeled. “So, this person…this *other you*…what do they want?”
She hesitated, then met my gaze. “To…to replace me. To take my place in this life.”
The fear in her eyes was palpable, raw. The implications slammed into me, a cold wave of dread. If this other self wanted her life, what would happen to *me*?
“I have to stop her,” she said, suddenly resolute. “This has gone on long enough. I can’t let her…erase me.”
We rushed out the door, the setting sun casting long shadows as we ran. The park was a short drive away. When we got there, she led me to a small gazebo, tucked away in a quiet corner. There was no one in sight.
Then, a figure appeared. It was her, but younger, vibrant. The clothes were different, the hairstyle different, but the shape of her face, the way she moved…it was undeniably her.
The other her, smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes. “You came,” she said, her voice smooth, too smooth.
My girlfriend stepped forward, her hand finding mine. “Leave us alone,” she said, her voice steady, though her hand was clenching mine.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” the other her said, her smile widening, “I have waited long enough. You were never good enough.”
Suddenly, a swirling vortex of light appeared behind the younger version of her, expanding and engulfing them. It took a moment for us to fully understand what was happening. It was a portal, a doorway between timelines. As the portal grew larger, the older version of my girlfriend looked at me, taking a deep breath. She then turned and stepped into the portal as well.
There was a blinding flash, then silence. The portal vanished, leaving behind only the faint scent of lavender.
I stood there, alone, in the quiet park. I looked around the area. It was empty. My hand was still open, my mind in a fog. I did not know how to feel. I was still clutching my phone, which I had been holding the whole time. I looked down, and saw a text message that had arrived just then. I opened it, and it read, “I can’t wait to see you again.” My heart sank. The last time I had seen her she was the only one, but now I had to wonder how many more of her there would be. Then, I closed my eyes, took a breath, and started walking towards home, alone.