The notebook shook in Lena's hands.
Each page was scrawled with notes, frantic thoughts, maps of her home, even sketches of her face drawn from memory, over and over. The handwriting matched Jay's, yet it was somehow different. Less controlled. More desperate.
She flipped to a torn-out page tucked in the back. It was a photo creased, faded of her and Jay, taken two years ago at a festival. But on the back, someone had written:
"He doesn't love you like I do.
He doesn't remember like I do.
I know the way you bite your lip when you're lying.
The sound you make when you're falling asleep.
He knows your name.
I know your soul."
Lena clutched the page to her chest. Whoever had written this wasn't a stranger. This wasn't obsession. This was love... twisted, torn, but real.
Back inside the house, Jay was awake. Shirtless, silent, leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of water.
"You went outside," he said.
She froze. "I needed air."
Jay studied her. His voice calm, almost too calm. "You found it, didn't you?"
"The notebook?" she said, challenging him.
He didn't flinch. "He was here."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Jay stepped forward. "Because he was dangerous, Lena."
"Or because he was telling the truth?"
His jaw tightened. "You're scared of the wrong man."
She stepped back. "Am I?"
That night, she didn't sleep.
She waited until Jay was out for a run his new habit, ever since the return. Then she logged into her laptop and searched for the old experimental database again.
It had been locked down since she first found it. But she had the code now - thanks to a note in the back of the second Jay's notebook.
Access granted.
The screen filled with files: Project MIRROR. Subjects 1 through 7. Test results. Termination logs.
Subject 6: Jay Donovan
Subject 6B: Jay Donovan Clone – Rejected
Her stomach turned.
Under the status column:
6: Active, re-integrated
6B: Missing
And then:
"Warning: Psychological overlap noted.
Memory contamination highly probable.
Do not allow Subject 6 and 6B to meet."
She sat in silence.
They had met.
And now one of them was living in her house.
A sudden knock.
She jumped, slamming the laptop closed.
The door creaked open.
Jay stood there, holding a bag of groceries.
"I brought your favorite," he said, gently. "Vanilla almond granola."
Her mind spun.
He remembered that.
So did the man who wrote the note.
They were becoming indistinguishable.
She forced a smile. "Thank you."
He smiled back.
But Lena knew: she couldn't trust the face anymore.
She would have to trust the truth she could prove.
And that meant… finding him again.
That night, she placed the photo and note from the notebook on her desk, under the lamplight.
On a blank piece of paper, she wrote:
"If you're still out there meet me where it all ended.
The cliff. Midnight.
Come alone."
She tucked the message into the shed where she'd found his things.
If he was watching… he'd come.
And then, finally, she'd ask the question that haunted her most:
Which one of you loved me first?