Morning arrived with a quiet that felt wrong.
James St Patrick stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office, watching the city slowly wake beneath a gray sky. Normally, the view brought him clarity.
Today it brought only unease.
He rubbed his temple.
Something about yesterday refused to sit properly in his mind, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong place.
His assistant, Payne, knocked lightly before stepping inside.
"Your 9 a.m. meeting has been moved to ten," Payne said. "Also, the board approved the logistics acquisition."
James frowned slightly.
"That was already approved."
Payne blinked. "No, sir. The vote happened this morning."
James said nothing.
Because he remembered the boardroom clearly.
The polished table. The arguments. The moment the chairman finally agreed.
He had lived that meeting already,
Or at least… he thought he had.
"Send me the security report from yesterday," James said.
Payne hesitated. "Yesterday was uneventful."
"I still want it."
"Yes, sir."
Payne left.
James leaned back in his chair slowly.
This wasn't the first strange thing he had noticed.
Small things.
Details that felt slightly… misaligned.
Like the universe had been quietly rearranged overnight.
Later that afternoon, James returned home earlier than usual.
The penthouse was silent except for the faint sound of pages turning.
Ceci sat in the living room near the window, sunlight resting softly across her dark hair. A book lay open in her lap.
She looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
James paused in the doorway, watching her.
His chest tightened suddenly.
A strange sensation swept through him, sharp and fleeting.
A memory.
Glass shattering.
A loud crack.
Her voice screamed his name.
James blinked.
The image vanished.
Ceci looked up.
For a brief moment, surprise flickered across her face.
"You're home early," she said gently.
James studied her.
Her expression was calm.
But her fingers tightened slightly around the book.
"You expected me later," he said.
It wasn't a question.
She smiled faintly.
"You usually come home late."
James walked into the room slowly.
"You moved the flowers."
Ceci glanced toward the coffee table.
"Oh. I thought they looked better there."
James stared at them.
White lilies.
Yesterday they had been on the dining table.
He was certain of it.
Yet something in his mind whispered that the lilies had shattered across the floor,
no.
That made no sense.
James exhaled quietly.
"Did something happen today?" he asked,
Her eyes met his.
For the smallest fraction of a second,
Guilt flashed across them.
"No," she said softly.
Silence stretched between them.
James suddenly felt that same strange pull again.
The sensation of standing in a moment he had already lived.
Déjà vu.
But stronger.
More real.
As if reality itself had taken a step backward.
Ceci looked down at her book.
James noticed something then.
Her wrist.
A faint red mark circled it, almost like a burn.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked.
She instinctively pulled her sleeve down.
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
Ceci hesitated.
Then she stood.
"It's just a small accident while cooking."
Lucien frowned.
"You don't cook."
Another pause.
Then she smiled again, carefully this time.
"I'm learning."
James did not return the smile.
Because the unease in his chest had grown heavier.
Stronger.
Like an answer was standing right in front of him, hidden just beneath the surface.
He looked at Ceci.
At the quiet woman he barely understood.
And suddenly he felt something strange.
Not suspicion.
Not fear.
Recognition.
As if part of him had already met this version of her before.
As if somewhere, in some forgotten moment,
He already knew the truth.
Across the room, Ceci lowered her gaze.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
Because she could see it in his eyes.
The cracks were starting to form.
And if James looked too c
losely…
He might realize something impossible.
That yesterday had already happened.
And she had erased it.