The echoes of a parallel world

Amara had always felt a peculiar dissonance with the world around her, as if she existed between two realms, neither fully here nor entirely absent. It wasn’t until the night of the thunderstorm that she realized her instincts had been right all along.

The power had gone out, plunging her small apartment into darkness. She lit a candle, its flickering light casting uneasy shadows on the walls. The storm raged outside, the howling wind rattling the windows. Then, amidst the chaos, she heard it—a whisper, faint but unmistakable.

“Amara…”

Her breath hitched. She turned sharply, scanning the room, but she was alone. The voice had been soft, almost pleading, and disturbingly familiar. It wasn’t the first time she had heard whispers that shouldn’t exist.

Determined, she reached for her journal, flipping through pages filled with notes on strange occurrences. The misplaced objects, the echoes of footsteps in an empty hallway, the flickers in the mirror that showed things that weren’t there. For years, she had dismissed them as tricks of the mind. Now, with the storm as a backdrop, reality itself seemed to fray at the edges.

Then, she saw it.

In the reflection of the window, her own image stared back—but something was wrong. The flickering candlelight illuminated her features, yet her reflection didn’t quite match her movements. Her heart pounded as she lifted a hand, watching as the reflection hesitated before mirroring her action. And then, it smiled—a slow, knowing smile that she hadn’t made.

Fear clenched her stomach. She stumbled back, knocking over the candle. Darkness swallowed the room, but before she could reach for her phone, a surge of light flooded her vision, blinding and infinite.

When her vision cleared, she was no longer in her apartment.

She stood in an identical room, yet everything was subtly… wrong. The walls bore patterns she didn’t recognize, her bookshelves contained titles she had never owned, and the air carried a scent of something faintly metallic. The storm was gone, replaced by an eerie silence.

Then, a voice behind her. “You finally made it.”

She turned sharply. Standing there was a woman—herself, yet not. The doppelgänger wore the same features but carried an air of certainty, of belonging. “Who are you?” Amara whispered, though she already knew the answer.

The other Amara tilted her head. “I am you. Or rather, the version of you that never got left behind.”

Amara’s pulse thundered. “Left behind?”

The doppelgänger’s expression softened. “There are two worlds, each mirroring the other. Long ago, something split us apart. You belong here, with me. Your world—the one you’ve always known—is the echo.”

Amara felt dizzy. Her memories, her experiences—were they merely remnants of another existence? “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The other Amara sighed, stepping forward. “You’ve always known, haven’t you? The whispers, the shifting reflections… You’ve felt it your entire life.”

A flood of memories rushed into Amara’s mind. The inexplicable déjà vu, the dreams of places she had never been, the overwhelming sense that she was meant to be somewhere else. It had always been there, an ache she could never define.

“I don’t belong there,” Amara murmured, realization settling over her.

The other smiled. “No, you belong here.”

Amara exhaled slowly, glancing around at the unfamiliar-yet-familiar room. She had spent so long resisting the truth, clinging to a world that had always felt slightly out of sync. Now, standing here, she felt something she hadn’t in years—wholeness.

A final thought struck her. “What happens now?”

The other Amara extended a hand. “Now, you stay.”

For the first time, Amara didn’t hesitate. She took the offered hand, and as she did, the last echoes of her former world faded into silence.