That morning came colder than usual.
Lica noticed it even before opening her eyes.
Not because the temperature had changed—but something more subtle. Something that couldn't be touched, but could be felt. As if a part of this world had begun to… loosen.
She opened her eyes slowly.
The same wooden ceiling.
Sunlight coming through the window.
Everything looked like yesterday.
But it didn't feel the same.
⸻
"Lica? Are you awake?"
Raka's voice came from outside.
Lica sat up slowly.
"I'm awake," she replied.
Her voice sounded normal.
Too normal.
⸻
She walked out of the room.
Raka was already sitting at the table, as usual. The old woman—Raka's mother—was preparing breakfast.
Everything looked the same.
Exactly the same.
⸻
Too the same.
⸻
"Lica, you look pale," Raka said.
Lica shook her head.
"Just didn't sleep well."
She sat down.
The food was already there.
The same movements.
The same sounds.
Even the steam from the tea looked… identical.
⸻
Lica stopped.
The spoon in her hand hovered.
⸻
"What's wrong?" Raka asked.
Lica looked at him.
"Last night… what did you say?"
Raka frowned.
"Last night?"
"Yes. Outside. In front of the house."
Raka thought for a moment.
"Last night I went straight to sleep. Why?"
⸻
Lica froze.
⸻
That was impossible.
Last night was real.
That conversation was real.
She remembered every word.
Every tone.
Every expression.
⸻
"No… you went outside. We talked," she said softly.
Raka shook his head.
"No, Lica. I didn't go outside."
⸻
The world seemed to shift.
Subtle.
But enough to unsteady her.
⸻
"Status," she whispered.
"Reality stability: decreasing," the system replied.
"Memory synchronization: inconsistent."
⸻
Lica closed her eyes for a moment.
So this was the beginning.
The crack.
⸻
She stood up abruptly.
"Lica?" Raka was startled.
"I need to go outside."
⸻
She walked quickly out of the house.
The morning air greeted her.
But this time—
It didn't feel warm.
⸻
Lica walked toward the main road.
People were there.
Going about their routines.
But—
Their movements felt… repetitive.
⸻
A man walked past.
Five seconds later—
The same man walked past again.
With the same steps.
The same expression.
⸻
Lica stepped back.
"No…" she whispered.
⸻
A small child ran.
Fell.
Got up.
Ran again.
Then—
Repeated.
⸻
"What is happening?" Lica asked quickly.
"Temporal anomaly increasing," the system replied.
"This reality is beginning to experience partial looping."
⸻
Loop.
Repetition.
⸻
Lica looked around her.
This world—
Was starting to break.
⸻
"But why now?" she asked.
"Hypothesis: your presence is causing instability in this branch of reality."
⸻
Lica fell silent.
⸻
"I'm… the one causing this?"
"Confirmation: high probability."
⸻
She stepped back slowly.
Her footing unsteady.
⸻
So it wasn't just that she couldn't stay—
She was also destroying the place she stayed in.
⸻
Lica held her head.
"No… no… this can't be happening…"
⸻
She ran.
Back to the house.
⸻
Raka stood at the door when she arrived.
"Lica! What's wrong with you?"
Lica stopped.
Looked at him.
For the first time—
She was afraid to see that face.
"Raka…" her voice trembled.
"If one day I… disappear…"
Raka frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
⸻
The world behind Raka—
Glitched.
Like a broken image.
⸻
"Lica?" Raka stepped closer.
⸻
Lica stepped back.
"Don't come closer!"
Raka stopped.
Shocked.
⸻
"Lica… you're scaring me."
⸻
That sentence.
Simple.
But piercing.
⸻
Lica closed her eyes.
Tears fell.
⸻
"I'm scared too," she whispered.
⸻
She opened her eyes again.
Looked at Raka.
Maybe for the last time.
⸻
"Listen," she said softly,
"I'm not from here."
Raka went silent.
"I came from… somewhere else. And I'm not supposed to be here."
Raka didn't laugh.
Didn't deny it.
He just… listened.
⸻
"I thought I could stay," Lica continued.
"I thought… maybe this was home."
⸻
The world around them began to tremble.
Subtle.
But increasingly clear.
⸻
"But it turns out… I'm only breaking everything."
⸻
Raka stepped forward.
This time, Lica didn't step back.
⸻
"You're not breaking anything," he said firmly.
⸻
Lica shook her head.
"Can't you see? This world is starting to… fall apart."
⸻
Raka looked around.
For the first time—
He saw it.
⸻
The repeating movements.
Shadows lagging behind their objects.
The sky flickering like a broken screen.
⸻
"What is this…" he whispered.
⸻
Lica looked at him.
"This is because of me."
⸻
Silence.
⸻
Raka looked back at Lica.
His eyes were no longer confused.
But… sad.
⸻
"If you leave… will this stop?"
⸻
Lica didn't answer immediately.
⸻
"Stabilization probability increases if the subject leaves this reality," the system replied.
⸻
Lica swallowed.
⸻
"Yes," she said at last.
⸻
Silence.
Heavier than before.
⸻
Raka let out a small laugh.
Not because it was funny.
But because… he didn't know what else to do.
⸻
"So… you came, made me know you…"
He stopped.
Took a breath.
⸻
"And now you have to leave so everything goes back to normal?"
⸻
Lica couldn't answer.
⸻
Because it was true.
⸻
The old woman stepped out of the house.
"What's going on?"
⸻
The world behind her—
Split.
For a moment.
Then returned to normal.
⸻
Lica closed her eyes.
⸻
She was out of time.
⸻
"Raka…" she said softly.
"Thank you."
⸻
Raka looked at her.
Didn't move.
⸻
"I mean it," Lica continued.
"For the first time… I felt…"
She stopped.
The words were hard to say.
⸻
"…accepted."
⸻
Tears fell.
⸻
Raka walked closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
⸻
This time—
Lica didn't move away.
⸻
Raka stood right in front of her.
"If you leave…" he said softly,
"will you remember me?"
⸻
That question.
Simple.
But heavier than everything she had faced.
⸻
Lica gave a bitter smile.
"I don't know."
⸻
"Cross-reality memory synchronization: unstable," the system replied.
⸻
Lica closed her eyes.
⸻
"If I forget…" she whispered,
"it's not because I want to."
⸻
Raka nodded.
Slowly.
⸻
"In that case," he said,
"I'll be the one who remembers you."
⸻
Lica opened her eyes.
⸻
For the first time—
She didn't feel alone.
⸻
Blue light began to appear around her.
⸻
Time was up.
⸻
The world cracked further.
Sound became distorted.
Colors began to fade.
⸻
Lica stepped back.
⸻
"Don't go," a small voice suddenly said.
⸻
She turned.
The old woman.
⸻
"If you really have to go…" she said softly,
"then go without guilt."
⸻
Lica looked at her.
⸻
"You didn't break this home," she continued.
"You were just… a passing part of its story."
⸻
Lica's tears fell faster.
⸻
"And home," the woman smiled gently,
"is not just where you live."
⸻
She paused for a moment.
⸻
"Home is also where you once mattered."
⸻
The world began to collapse.
⸻
The light grew brighter.
⸻
Raka stepped back.
Not because he wanted to.
But because the world itself was pulling him away.
⸻
"Lica!" he shouted.
⸻
Lica reached out her hand.
⸻
This time—
They could touch.
⸻
For a moment.
⸻
Warm.
Real.
⸻
Then—
Separated.
⸻
The light consumed everything.
⸻
And Lica fell again.
⸻
Between time.
Between worlds.
Between possibilities.
⸻
And when everything turned dark again—
One question remained, deeper than before:
⸻
If every place I touch must eventually be left behind…
am I truly searching for a home—
or only continuing to lose it?
⸻
Silence.
No light.
No sound.
Only herself… and the empty space between time.
⸻
Yet within that darkness, a new awareness slowly began to form.
All this time, she kept moving.
Kept searching.
Kept hoping to find something that would stay.
But every time she got close—
She had to leave.
⸻
Lica took a deep breath, even though she wasn't sure her body truly existed.
And for the first time, her question changed again.
Sharper.
More honest.
More frightening.
⸻
If I am the reason every home cannot last…
is the problem in those worlds—
or is it actually… within me?
And when everything turned dark again—
One question remained, deeper than before:
⸻
If every place I touch must eventually be left behind…
am I truly searching for a home—
or only continuing to lose it?
⸻
And if the answer has always been me—
if I am the one who cannot stay,
the one who cannot belong—
then is there still a place in this endless universe
where I am not something that must eventually disappear?
Or…
will I forever be just a passing moment
in someone else's home?
⸻
Silence.
No light.
No sound.
Only herself… and the empty space between time.
There was no light.
No sound.
No time.
Only consciousness drifting—fragile, fractured, and slowly losing its form.
Lica didn't know how long she had been there.
Seconds no longer mattered.
Minutes no longer existed.
Even "now" felt like a distant concept.