Adam didn't go home.
He told himself he would.
He even walked in the direction of his apartment, cutting through narrower streets where the noise of the square faded into something distant, something easier to ignore. The further he got, the quieter it became.
But the silence didn't help.
If anything, it made it worse.
Because now there was nothing to drown the echo inside his head.
"You remember."
The man's voice lingered, sharp and wrong, like a splinter lodged too deep to pull out.
Adam exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. His fingers trembled slightly, though he tried to ignore it.
"I don't," he muttered.
The words felt empty the moment they left his mouth.
He kept walking.
The المدينة القديمة stretched around him—tight alleys, uneven stone beneath his feet, walls that seemed too close, as if they had been built to keep secrets rather than people safe. Dim lanterns hung above, casting long shadows that shifted with every step.
He knew these streets.
He had grown up here.
Every turn, every shortcut, every hidden corner.
So why did it feel like he was walking through something unfamiliar?
Adam slowed.
A flicker.
Not a vision this time.
Something else.
A sensation.
Like stepping into a memory that didn't belong to him.
He stopped in front of a narrow passage between two buildings.
His chest tightened.
"I've been here before."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Of course he had.
It was just an alley.
A hundred like it existed in the medina.
But—
Not like this.
His gaze shifted to the wall on his left.
Rough. Cracked. A faint stain near the ground.
His stomach dropped.
Blood.
Not fresh.
Not real.
But he could see it.
Clear as if it had just happened.
A body collapsing.
A hand reaching out.
His breath hitched.
No.
No, this was different.
This wasn't like the square.
There was no build-up. No sequence of events unfolding.
This felt—
Complete.
Finished.
Like the memory of something that had already ended.
Adam stumbled back slightly, pressing his hand against the opposite wall to steady himself.
"This isn't real."
But his voice lacked conviction.
Because his body disagreed.
His pulse raced. His muscles tensed. Every instinct screamed that this place—
This exact spot—
Meant something.
He forced himself to look again.
The stain was gone.
Just old stone.
Nothing more.
Adam let out a shaky breath.
"Get a grip."
He pushed himself away from the wall and kept moving.
Faster this time.
He didn't want to stay there.
Didn't want to think about why it had felt so—
Familiar.
A door slammed somewhere behind him.
Adam flinched.
His nerves were shot.
Every sound felt sharper. Louder. Like his senses had been dialed too high and he didn't know how to turn them back down.
He reached the end of the alley and stepped into a slightly wider street.
A few shops were still open. Light spilled onto the ground. Voices murmured behind half-closed doors. Life, normal and steady.
It should have grounded him.
It didn't.
His mind kept circling back.
The man.
The knife.
"You always ruin it."
Adam clenched his jaw.
"What does that even mean…?"
He hadn't stopped anything.
No one got hurt.
If anything—
He made it worse.
The thought settled heavily in his chest.
He turned a corner.
And froze.
There was someone standing there.
Waiting.
A woman.
Leaning against the wall like she had nowhere else to be.
Or exactly where she needed to be.
Adam's breath caught.
Not because of who she was.
But because—
He knew her.
Or at least…
He felt like he did.
She pushed herself off the wall as soon as she saw him.
"No way," she said.
Her voice carried something between disbelief and frustration.
Adam didn't move.
They stared at each other for a moment that stretched too long.
"You—" she started, then stopped, studying his face carefully. "You actually don't remember."
The words hit him harder than they should have.
"…remember what?"
She let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Of course you'd say that."
Adam's chest tightened.
Not again.
Not this.
"Look, I don't know who you think I am, but—"
"Adam El Khatib," she cut in immediately.
His name.
Perfect.
No hesitation.
A chill ran through him.
"…how do you know that?"
She tilted her head slightly, watching him like he was the strange one.
"That's not the question you should be asking."
"Then what is?"
A pause.
Something shifted in her expression.
Not pity.
Not exactly.
Something colder.
"Why are you still alive?"
The words landed like a blow.
Adam stared at her.
"I—what?"
She took a step closer.
Slow.
Measured.
"You died," she said. "Right there."
She pointed behind him.
Back toward the alley.
Adam's stomach twisted.
"That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
Her voice didn't rise.
Didn't waver.
That made it worse.
"You were bleeding out," she continued. "You tried to say something, but you couldn't. You never can."
Adam shook his head.
"No. That didn't happen."
"It did."
"I was just there—there was nothing—"
"Because it hasn't happened yet."
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Adam felt something crack slightly under the surface of his thoughts.
"…what?"
She exhaled slowly, like she was deciding how much to say.
"Or maybe," she added, "it already did."
His pulse pounded in his ears.
"This doesn't make any sense."
"I know."
She ran a hand through her hair, clearly irritated.
"It didn't make sense the first time either."
First time.
Adam's breath caught.
"How many times?" he asked before he could stop himself.
She looked at him.
Really looked.
As if measuring something.
"Enough," she said quietly.
A cold weight settled in his chest.
"This is insane."
"Yeah," she agreed. "It is."
Another pause.
The air between them felt tense, unstable.
Like it could break at any second.
Adam swallowed.
"Who are you?"
She hesitated.
For the first time.
Then—
"Someone who remembers," she said.
Not an answer.
Not really.
But it was enough to make his skin crawl.
"Then tell me what's going on."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Her gaze hardened.
"Because every time I do…"
She trailed off.
Adam leaned forward slightly.
"What happens?"
A beat.
Then—
"You stop listening."
The words hit deeper than they should have.
Adam opened his mouth to respond—
And froze.
Another flicker.
Stronger this time.
Not the man.
Not the knife.
Something else.
Himself.
On the ground.
Blood spreading beneath him.
The same alley.
The same spot.
His breath came in sharp.
His vision blurred.
No—
No, this wasn't—
He staggered.
The world tilted.
"Hey—"
The woman stepped forward, catching his arm before he could fall.
Too late.
The image had already burned itself into his mind.
Clear.
Detailed.
Final.
Adam looked up at her, panic rising in his chest.
"I saw it," he whispered.
Her grip tightened slightly.
"Yeah," she said quietly.
"Now you're starting to remember."