I went up for the last time.
Same creaking stairs.
Same chipped paint on the rail.
Same door that never quite closed right.
But the air…It was different.
Heavier.
Like the house knew.
Like it had been waiting for this.
Lucas was already there.
Standing in front of the mirror.
Not looking at it.
Looking through it.
"You brought me here," I said.
He didn't respond.
Just stepped aside.
And pointed.
Behind the mirror, I found a gap in the wall.
A small, hidden compartment.
Like a mouth holding something it was never meant to swallow.
I reached in.
Felt wood.
Paper.
A box.
Inside the box:
A photo.Me and Lucas. Smiling. Matching sweaters. But that day never happened. We never had sweaters like those. We never smiled like that.
A lock of hair.Tied with red string. Too dark to be mine.
A note.Folded five times. Wrinkled like it had been opened again and again.It read:
"Only one of you was ever real.The other was made to survive it."
I sat down on the floor.
Lucas crouched in front of me.
Neither of us spoke.
Because the words had already been written.
The attic didn't creak anymore.
It was listening.
Waiting for me to choose.
"Is it you or me?" I asked.
Lucas smiled, softly.
"Wrong question."
I blinked.
And when I opened my eyes…
The box was gone.
The mirror was gone.
The attic was empty.
Except for me.
And the drawing on the wall.
A house with no windows.
And a boy inside.
Still smiling.
I smiled back.
And whispered:
"We made it."