I walk back to my apartment like I'm moving through thick water.
Everything Adrian told me keeps spinning in my head. I'm not real. He's not real. Eight hundred and forty-seven loops of fake life, fake love, fake purpose. The worst part? Some deep, quiet part of me already knew. I just didn't want to admit it.
The building looks exactly the same as always. Same cracked sidewalk, same graffiti on the wall, same broken light in the lobby. I climb the stairs to the third floor, each step feeling heavier than the last.
I unlock my door and step inside.
The apartment is spotless.
No blood on the sheets. No body on the bed. No knife lying on the floor. Even the chair I threw at Hunter Luna is back in its place, perfectly positioned by my desk. Everything looks exactly like it did yesterday morning. And the morning before that. And every morning for two years.
But I know Adrian died here. I saw his body. I touched his cold skin.
I check my phone. 8:47 AM. Ten minutes later than I usually wake up on a normal loop day. But nothing about today has been normal.
I sit on my bed and pull out the countdown timer. Still there. Still counting down.
70:15:33... 70:15:32... 70:15:31...
So that part wasn't a dream. Whatever's happening to me, I have less than seventy-one hours to figure it out.
I'm about to get up when I hear the coffee grinder downstairs. Same sound as always, but something's wrong with the timing.
The grinder starts at exactly 3:47 AM. Then 8:30. Then 11:15. Then 2:45 PM. I've heard this schedule eight hundred and forty-seven times. I could set my watch by it.
But right now it's 8:47, and Maria is just starting her second batch.
Seventeen minutes late.
It's a tiny thing. Most people wouldn't notice. But when you've lived the same day nearly a thousand times, you pay attention to details. You notice when the pattern breaks.
And this pattern has never broken before.
I grab a hoodie and head downstairs to the coffee shop.
Santos Coffee is busier than usual. Or maybe I'm just noticing for the first time. A line of six people waiting for drinks. Office workers checking phones. Students with heavy backpacks. The usual morning crowd.
Maria is behind the counter, working with her normal efficiency. Small and round with graying hair under a hairnet. Burn scars on her hands from years of hot coffee and steam. Same blue apron with "Santos Coffee" embroidered in yellow.
But something's different about her today. She keeps glancing around the shop like she's watching for someone. Her movements are sharper. More alert.
"Luna, mija!" she calls when she sees me. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep," I say, getting in line.
"Ay, I know that feeling. The usual?"
"Yeah."
I watch her work while I wait. Maria makes coffee the old way. Manual espresso machine, carefully steamed milk, attention to every detail. She always says machines can't replace the human touch.
But today she's working differently. Moving faster. More precise. Like she's in a hurry.
She finishes the customer ahead of me – some guy in an expensive suit – and starts on my order. Medium latte with an extra shot. Same drink I've ordered every day for two years.
When she hands me the cup, I notice the foam art immediately.
Usually Maria draws simple shapes. Hearts, leaves, sometimes a flower. Basic café art that looks nice but doesn't mean anything.
Today she's created something completely different.
The foam forms an intricate pattern of interlocking circles and spirals. It's beautiful, but also complex. Almost like writing in a language I don't recognize. The design seems to shift as I look at it, like it's moving on its own.
"That's new," I say, holding up the cup.
Maria glances around the shop, then leans closer. "You're noticing things today," she says quietly. "Good."
"What do you mean?"
"The pattern, mija. You see it's different."
"Yeah, it's pretty. But what—"
"Not here." She cuts me off with a sharp look. "Too many people listening."
I look around the coffee shop. The other customers are absorbed in their phones or conversations. Nobody's paying attention to us.
"Maria, what's going on?"
"Drink your coffee first. Then we talk upstairs."
"Upstairs? Why?"
"Because some conversations need privacy." She starts wiping down the counter with more force than necessary. "And because you're going to need what's in that drink."
I look down at my latte. The foam pattern seems even more complex now, like it's growing before my eyes.
"What did you put in this?"
"Nothing that will hurt you. But you need to drink it now, before the effect wears off."
"What effect?"
She doesn't answer. Just keeps cleaning the counter and shooting glances at the other customers.
I take a sip. The coffee tastes normal, but there's something else underneath. Something that makes my tongue tingle and my vision sharpen slightly. Like I just put on glasses I didn't know I needed.
"Maria—"
"Finish it."
I drain the cup. Whatever she added to the coffee is spreading through my system, making everything seem clearer. The colors in the shop are brighter. The sounds are crisper. Even the smell of coffee beans is more intense.
"Good," Maria says. "Now we go upstairs."
She unties her apron and hangs it behind the counter. Then she flips the sign on the door from "Open" to "Back in 10 Minutes."
"Hey!" one of the remaining customers protests. "I haven't gotten my order yet!"
"Emergency," Maria says without looking back. "Come back in an hour."
She motions for me to follow her to the stairs that lead to my apartment. But instead of going up, she stops at a door I've never noticed before. It's painted the same color as the wall, almost invisible unless you're looking for it.
"This way," she says, pulling out a key.
"Where does that go?"
"Somewhere we can talk without being overheard."
She unlocks the door and steps through. I hesitate for a second, then follow her.
The room behind the door is nothing like I expected. It's larger than it should be, given the layout of the building. The walls are covered with strange symbols similar to the pattern Maria drew in my coffee. Some of them seem to glow faintly in the dim light.
"What is this place?" I ask.
"My workshop." Maria closes the door behind us and locks it. "The place where I've been preparing for this day."
"What day?"
"The day you start to see the cracks."
She walks to a table covered with books, papers, and devices I don't recognize. Some of them look electronic. Others look like they're made from materials that shouldn't exist.
"Maria, you're scaring me."
"Good. Fear keeps you alert." She picks up one of the devices – a small cube that pulses with soft blue light. "Luna, what do you know about reality?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"A important one. Do you think reality is solid? Fixed? Unchangeable?"
"I... yes? Reality is reality."
"No, mija. Reality is layers. Like an onion. And sometimes the layers crack." She holds up the cube, and the light inside it swirls faster. "When they crack, people like you can see through to what's underneath."
"People like me?"
"People who've been living the same day over and over. People whose minds have been... stretched." She sets the cube down and picks up a leather journal. "The pattern I drew in your coffee? That's a map."
"A map to what?"
"To the crack in your layer of reality. The place where you can step through and see what's really happening."
I stare at her. This conversation is getting more insane by the minute.
"You're talking about the loop."
"I'm talking about much more than the loop." She opens the journal and shows me pages covered with the same spiraling symbols. "Luna, how much do you remember from before the loops started?"
The question hits me like cold water. I try to think back to my life before that first Tuesday in October. My childhood, my family, my job. But it's all fuzzy. Like trying to remember a dream.
"I... I'm not sure."
"And doesn't that seem strange to you? You can remember every detail of the past eight hundred and forty-seven days, but everything before that is blurry?"
It does seem strange. But I've been so focused on the loops, I never really thought about it.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying someone doesn't want you to remember your life before. Someone has been keeping you distracted, keeping you focused on killing Adrian over and over so you don't ask the right questions."
"What questions?"
"Like who you really are. What you were doing before this started. Why someone would want to trap you in this cycle." She closes the journal and looks at me directly. "Luna, you weren't just some random girl who got caught in a time loop. You were chosen for this."
"Chosen by who?"
"That's what we need to find out. But first, you need to see the crack."
She walks to the far wall and traces one of the symbols with her finger. The symbol lights up, then spreads its glow to the symbols around it. Soon the entire wall is pulsing with soft light.
"The crack only opens at specific times," Maria says. "Next window is tonight at midnight. But looking through it is dangerous."
"Dangerous how?"
"Because once you see what's on the other side, you can't unsee it. And once they know you've seen it..." She trails off.
"They? Who's they?"
"The people who built your prison." She turns back to me, and for the first time since I've known her, Maria looks scared. "Luna, I need you to understand something. I'm not just a coffee shop owner who happens to know about weird things. I've been watching you for two years. Waiting for this moment."
"Watching me why?"
"Because someone hired me to."
My blood goes cold. "Hired you to do what?"
"To keep you safe. To help you when the time came. To make sure you had a chance to escape." She pulls a photograph out of her pocket and hands it to me. "Someone who cares about you very much."
The photograph shows a woman I don't recognize. She's about my age, with long dark hair and eyes that look familiar somehow. She's standing next to a man who...
Who looks exactly like Adrian.
"Who are these people?" I whisper.
"I can't tell you that. Not yet. But they're the reason I'm here. They're the reason I've been helping you." Maria takes the photograph back. "And they're the reason you need to be very, very careful who you trust."
"What do you mean?"
"The woman who visited you this morning. The one who looks like you. She's not here to help you escape." Maria's voice drops to almost a whisper. "She's here to make sure you never find the truth."
Before I can respond, we hear footsteps in the coffee shop above us. Heavy boots. Multiple sets.
Maria goes very still. "They're here," she breathes.
"Who's here?"
"The cleanup crew. They know you've been asking questions." She grabs my arm. "Luna, listen to me very carefully. Tonight at midnight, come back here. Use the pattern from your coffee to find your way to the crack. But whatever you do, don't trust anyone who tells you they're here to help."
"What about you?"
"Especially not me."
The footsteps are getting closer. I can hear voices now, talking in low, urgent tones.
"Go," Maria whispers, pushing me toward a different door I hadn't noticed before. "Use the back exit. And Luna?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember what I told you about reality being layers. When you look through the crack tonight, you're going to see that everything you think you know is wrong."
"How wrong?"
"Wrong enough that you'll wish you'd never looked."
The door opens onto an alley behind the building. I step through and hear it lock behind me immediately.
As I walk away, I can hear the heavy footsteps entering Maria's coffee shop. Hear voices asking questions in official-sounding tones.
I look down at my empty coffee cup. The foam pattern is gone now, dissolved into nothing. But I can still remember every line, every curve, every spiral.
Tonight at midnight, I'm going to find out what Maria meant about cracks in reality.
And I have a feeling that once I do, there's no going back.
End of Chapter 4