I Woke Up to a Stranger's Life

[Sound: Soft ticking clock. A heartbeat fades in.]

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the wrong window.

Not just the wrong direction—the wrong window.

My room faces east. The sun never hits my bed this way.

I sat up, confused. The sheets were silk, not the flannel ones I’d fallen asleep in. The walls were painted a deep navy blue—mine are light gray. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It wasn’t my phone. Not the cracked-screen Samsung I’ve clung to for years. This was a pristine iPhone.

Lock screen: “Good morning, MARA.”

Mara?

I’m not Mara. I’m Mia. Mia Carson.

My heart thumped like it was trying to escape my chest. I scrambled out of bed. The mirror above the dresser caught my movement. I froze.

The woman staring back wasn’t a stranger. Not exactly. She was... me. But sharper. Colder. Hair straighter, lips fuller. Like someone edited me into a magazine cover version of myself.

Panic crawled up my throat.

I tore through the apartment. The furniture, the photos, the clothes—all expensive. Luxurious. Nothing like my second-hand studio on 43rd Street. I opened a closet. A drawer. Nothing familiar. No sign of Mia Carson.

Just Mara DeWitt.

That’s when I saw the framed newspaper clipping on the wall.

“MARA DEWITT: CEO OF NEXIA LABS — From Broken Home to Tech Billionaire.”

CEO? Billionaire?

What the hell?

I grabbed the phone and pressed the side button. A facial scan unlocked it instantly.

My face unlocked Mara’s phone.

No. No. No.

I tried calling my best friend, Zoë. Her number wasn’t in the contacts. I dialed it from memory. A robotic voice answered:

“The number you have dialed is not in service.”

I tried calling my mom. Same message. My hands were shaking.

Then the phone buzzed. A text.

> "On my way to pick you up. Board meeting at 9. Wear black." – Dean



Who was Dean?

I stepped onto the balcony for air—and nearly passed out.

This wasn’t Manhattan.

The skyline was wrong. I wasn’t even in New York.

I was in San Francisco.


---

[Sound: City sounds, muted — distant sirens, faint chatter, wind.]

By 9 a.m., I was seated in a sleek black car next to a man who looked like he belonged in a Bond movie. Charcoal suit, tailored perfectly. Expensive watch. Jaw clenched like he chewed stress for breakfast.

“Rough night?” he asked without looking at me.

I nodded. My throat was dry. “Yeah. You could say that.”

He glanced over, finally. Something shifted in his eyes—concern? Confusion?

“You’re quiet,” he said. “That’s... not like you.”

Before I could reply, the car pulled up to a towering building. NEXIA LABS, etched in chrome across the glass doors.

Inside, everyone greeted me—her—with respect. Reverence.

And fear.

I nodded politely, pretending. Faking.

Until I entered the boardroom.

And the screens lit up.

And there I was.

Me. The real me.

On security footage. On a dozen screens.

Running barefoot through a street in New York, screaming into a phone. Begging someone to listen. Crying that I didn’t belong here.

The room went silent. Dean stood. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

I couldn’t breathe.

The chair at the end of the table—mine, apparently—held a small device. A voice recorder. I picked it up.

And pressed play.

[Sound: Static, then a whispering voice — breathless, frantic.]

> “If you’re hearing this, Mara... I’m you. Or you’re me. We switched. Somehow. I don’t know how. But listen—don’t trust them. Nexia Labs isn’t what you think. They did this. They’re watching you. Watching us.”



> “Find the red box in your desk. It’s the only way to get back.”



The message cut off with a scream.

Everyone was staring at me. Dean took a step closer.

“Mara, where did you find that recording?”

I turned slowly. “What is this place?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen once.

The room locked down.

[Sound: Heavy doors slamming shut.]

Alarms began to blare. Red lights pulsed.

Dean’s voice was low. Calculated. “We told you not to go into the restricted files.”

“I didn’t!” I yelled. “I don’t even know who I am right now!”

He nodded slowly. Almost... sadly. “Exactly.”

And then, everything went black.


---

[Sound: Silence. Then a soft humming. Machinery. A monitor beeping.]

I woke up in a white room. Strapped to a bed. Wires in my arms.

A woman leaned over me. Familiar eyes. My eyes.

But this time, there was no glass between us.

She smiled. “You’re awake.”

“Mara?” I whispered.

She nodded.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said softly. “You handled it... better than I expected.”

“What is this? Why did we switch?”

She leaned closer.

“We didn’t. You didn’t wake up in my life, Mia.”

She tilted her head.

“You woke up in your next one.”


---

[Sound: Flatline beep. Then silence.]

[End of Episode 1]


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