We didn't move.
Not for a long time.
Malik stood near the door.
I stood in the middle of the room.
And behind me—
the mirror.
I didn't look at it again.
I didn't need to.
I could feel it.
Watching.
Waiting.
"What… is that?" Malik asked finally.
His voice was quiet.
But it wasn't the same quiet as before.
This was fear.
Real fear.
I swallowed.
"I don't know."
That had been true before.
But now—
it felt like a lie.
Because somewhere deep inside me…
I had a feeling.
This had started with me.
With the sentences.
With the touching.
With the trying to change something that wasn't meant to be changed.
And now—
it had become something else.
Something worse.
"It looks like you," Malik said.
I flinched.
"I know."
"But it's not you."
"No."
Silence stretched between us again.
Heavy.
Unstable.
"I saw it move," he whispered. "It moved before you did."
I closed my eyes.
I couldn't deny it anymore.
Not to him.
Not to myself.
"I hear things," I said.
The words felt fragile.
Dangerous.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
I hesitated.
Because this was it.
The choice.
Tell him everything—
and pull him deeper into it.
Or lie again—
and push him away.
Protect him.
Like I had tried to before.
And failed.
"He shouldn't have seen."
The sentence echoed again.
Stronger now.
Closer.
Like a warning.
Or a consequence.
"I hear the future," I said.
The words hung in the air.
Malik didn't laugh.
Didn't argue.
Didn't question.
Because after what he had just seen—
it made sense.
"Future?" he repeated.
"When I touch someone," I said, my voice trembling, "I hear one sentence. Something they're going to say. Something that's going to happen."
His expression shifted.
Confusion.
Then realization.
"That's why you—" he stopped. "That's why you've been acting like this."
I nodded.
"And the birthday…" he said slowly.
My chest tightened.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," I whispered.
"I know," he said.
But something in his voice told me—
it didn't fix anything.
"And that thing?" he asked, glancing toward the mirror.
"I don't know," I said again.
"But it started after I tried to stop everything."
After I broke everything.
After I broke you.
The words stayed in my head.
Malik was quiet for a long moment.
Then—
he stepped closer.
My heart jumped.
"Don't," I said quickly.
He stopped.
"Why?" he asked.
Because if he touched me—
he would hear something.
And now—
those sentences weren't just warnings.
They were pulling people in.
Changing things.
Bringing something with them.
"You can't touch me anymore," I said.
The words hurt more than anything I had said before.
He stared at me.
"That's not fair," he said quietly.
Fair.
Nothing about this had ever been fair.
"I'm trying to protect you," I said.
The same words.
The same mistake.
His expression hardened slightly.
"You said that before," he said.
And this time—
it didn't sound like comfort.
It sounded like distance.
I stepped back.
"Then go," I said.
The word came out sharper than I meant.
His eyes widened.
"What?"
"Go," I repeated, softer now.
"Stay away from me."
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
"You just told me the truth," he said. "And now you want me to leave?"
"Yes."
Because staying meant danger.
Because knowing meant consequences.
Because I couldn't risk him seeing more.
Hearing more.
Becoming part of whatever this was.
"I'm not leaving you," he said.
My chest tightened.
"You have to," I whispered.
"It's too late."
The sentence came again.
Loud.
Unavoidable.
And this time—
I knew what it meant.
There was no safe choice.
No right answer.
Only different ways to break.
"Please," I said.
My voice cracked.
And for a moment—
just a moment—
I thought he would argue.
Stay.
Refuse.
But then—
he looked at me.
Really looked.
At the fear.
At the guilt.
At the distance I had created.
And slowly…
he stepped back.
"Fine," he said quietly.
One word.
But it felt like something closing.
He turned.
Walked to the door.
Paused.
Then left.
The door shut softly behind him.
And just like that—
I was alone.
Completely.
I didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't think.
Until—
I felt it again.
Behind me.
Slowly…
I turned.
The mirror.
My reflection was still there.
Still smiling.
And this time—
it spoke.
Not out loud.
Not with sound.
But I heard it anyway.
"Now it's just us."
My heart dropped.
Because I finally understood.
This wasn't leaving.
This wasn't ending.
This was beginning.