The darkness beyond her window seemed deeper that night, thick as velvet, pressing its weight against the glass. The streetlamps glowed like tired eyes, and even the stars had abandoned their posts, leaving Lila alone in a sky of ink.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the flickering Morse code—"I'm coming back." Aidan's message had been a lifeline, a fragile thread she clung to with trembling hands. But with each passing hour, her mind whispered: What if he can't? What if he's gone forever, and I'm only imagining the echoes of his voice?
She turned back to her journal—the place where she had poured her days like water into the soil of memory. Its pages were heavy with words, smeared with tears and trembling hopes. She had written so much, yet tonight every word felt like a lie.
The man on the bench had vanished. For days she'd pressed her forehead to the glass, scanning the courtyard for his dark coat, his watchful eyes. But he was gone, like a ghost who'd slipped into the shadows. Even Clara had disappeared—her cleaning cart left abandoned in the hallway, a single rag lying in the dust like a warning.
The hospital staff moved like phantoms, their eyes sliding past Lila as though she were part of the walls. Their smiles were brittle, their voices clipped. Even Dr. Kamra had stopped coming by, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the cold hum of the fluorescent lights.
She pressed a hand to the glass, willing the night to give her something—a sign, a whisper, anything. But the world beyond her window remained silent, and the darkness only deepened.
It was late—long past the time the nurses usually dimmed the lights—when a sudden knock rattled her door. She sat up, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Aidan?" she whispered, half in prayer.
But it wasn't him.
The door creaked open to reveal Dr. Kamra, his face pale and drawn, his eyes hollow with something she couldn't name.
"Lila," he said, his voice low and strained. "I need you to come with me."
She frowned. "Where's Clara?" she demanded. "Why hasn't she—"
"Clara's… gone." His eyes darted to the floor."Gone where?"He didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and handed her a folded piece of paper.
Lila unfolded it carefully, her fingers trembling.
Trust no one. They know.
Clara's handwriting. Her breath caught.
"Dr. Kamra," she whispered, "what does this mean?"
His lips parted, but no sound came out. He closed his eyes, a single tear tracking down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."
Before she could ask, he took her by the elbow and guided her down the hallway. The corridor smelled of bleach and something metallic, a sharp tang that made her stomach churn.
"Where are we going?" she demanded.He didn't answer right away. They stopped at a door marked Observation 3, and his hand hovered on the knob.
"Inside is the answer to everything," he said. "But once you see it, there's no turning back."
Lila's throat tightened. She thought of Aidan, of his laughter and the way he'd made her feel like she wasn't just the girl in the window. "Show me," she said.
The door creaked open, and a wave of cold air washed over her. The room was lit by a dozen monitors, their blue glow painting the walls in ghostly hues.
Every screen showed her—sleeping, reading, staring at the window. A thousand angles, a thousand moments she hadn't known were watched. Her stomach lurched.
But one screen was different.
It showed a second room—its shape familiar, the window identical. And there, sitting at a table littered with sketches and scraps of paper, was Aidan.
Her heart nearly stopped.
He looked thinner, his hair longer, but it was him. He was hunched over a drawing pad, sketching—her.
A sob broke from her lips. "He's alive," she whispered.
Dr. Kamra's face twisted with something like pity. "That's what they want you to believe."
She turned on him, eyes blazing. "What do you mean?"
He took a step back. "Lila, they've been testing you both. Project Mirror wasn't just about isolation—it was about creating bonds. Simulated or not, those bonds can change the subject's mind."
Her voice shook. "Simulated? Are you saying he's not real?"
Kamra looked away. "I don't know anymore. I believed he was real once. I still do sometimes. But they control everything here. Every word you've heard, every memory you've made—they could be lies."
Lila felt the floor tilt beneath her. "No," she whispered. "I know him. I know he's real."
Kamra's eyes glistened with tears. "I hope you're right," he said. He reached into his coat and pressed something into her palm—a small keycard, cold and metallic. "This opens the main lab on the sublevel. If you want answers—real answers—that's where you'll find them."
She closed her fingers around the keycard, her heart pounding. "What will I find down there?"
His face went pale. "The truth," he whispered. "But truth isn't always freedom. Sometimes it's a prison you can't escape."
He turned away then, and she saw the tremble in his shoulders. "They'll come for you, Lila," he said. "They'll do anything to keep you from opening that door."
Her hands clenched around the keycard. She thought of Aidan—of his smile, his laughter, the way he'd taught her to see beyond the window. She wouldn't let them take him from her. Not again.
That night, she sat at her window long after the world had gone dark, her breath fogging the glass. She thought of all the days she'd spent watching the world from behind the glass, longing for something more than shadows.
Now, the darkness was no longer a cage—it was a challenge.
She would find him. She would fight for him.
No matter what.
The hallway to the sublevel felt endless. The walls were lined with old pipes, dripping and groaning like dying animals. The smell of damp concrete and stale air pressed around her like a shroud.
Every step echoed. Every creak of the metal beneath her feet felt like a warning.
She reached the heavy door marked Main Lab. Her hand shook as she slid the keycard into the lock. For a moment, nothing happened—then, with a beep, the door clicked open.
Beyond it, a cavernous room stretched before her, filled with rows of computers, humming softly like a hive of bees. Screens glowed in the darkness, displaying data she couldn't understand—numbers, charts, images of faces.
At the center of it all stood a single glass chamber. Inside, wires snaked across the floor like vines, and at the heart of the chamber—
Aidan.
He was slumped in a chair, eyes closed, his head resting on his chest. His arms were covered in sensors, his body surrounded by machines that beeped and whirred.
Her heart shattered. "Aidan!" she cried, running to the glass.
His eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy. "Lila?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm here," she said. "I'm here, and I'm getting you out."
He shook his head weakly. "You can't. They're… they're inside me, Lila. They made me, and now they can break me."
She pressed her hand to the glass, her voice shaking. "I don't care. You're real to me. That's all that matters."
A faint smile curved his lips. "That's what they're afraid of," he murmured. "That even in the darkness, we'd find each other."
Alarms blared suddenly, red lights flashing. Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
Lila turned, her heart pounding.
Aidan's voice rose, urgent and fierce. "Go, Lila! Don't let them take you too."
She shook her head. "I'm not leaving you!"
But the glass between them was unyielding, a wall she couldn't break.
The door burst open. Dr. Kamra stood there, his face pale, eyes wide.
"Lila, run!" he shouted.
She turned back to Aidan, her heart screaming. "I love you," she mouthed.
He smiled, even as tears ran down his face. "I love you too," he whispered.
Hands grabbed her, pulling her back, dragging her away from him.
She fought, kicked, and screamed, but the darkness swallowed her.
As the door slammed shut behind her, his face burned in her mind—a promise, a memory, a hope she'd never let go.