The night we finally moved into our new townhouse, Thomas and I collapsed onto the mattress, completely exhausted from carrying boxes all day. But when I opened my eyes the next morning, I wasn’t in our new bedroom. I was lying on the cold, dusty hardwood floor of my old apartment—clear across the city. I was covered in grime, my limbs aching. Shaken to my core, I assumed my childhood sleepwalking had returned with a vengeance. Had I really walked miles in my sleep? Panicked, I rushed back to our new home and shook Thomas awake. He just rolled over, dismissing my terror as a bad dream. To prove to myself that it wouldn’t happen again, I drank ten cups of black coffee the following night to stay awake. It worked; I stayed firmly in our new bed. But as the sky outside turned a pale, dusty gold, I set an alarm for a quick thirty-minute nap. When I woke up, I was back on the floor of the old apartment. This time, sheer terror set in. Even driving took over forty minutes at dawn. How could I have walked here in thirty minutes? Was our new house haunted? Was some unseen force dragging me back to my past? I paid a spiritual medium to inspect the townhouse, but he insisted the property was clean. When we got back, Thomas’s face was cold and dark. “Are you sure you aren’t sneaking out to cheat on me, using this ghost story as a pathetic cover?” he sneered. Desperate to prove my innocence, I set alarms to go off every single minute the following night, forcing him to stay awake with me. But we were both running on fumes. Exhaustion claimed us anyway, and we drifted off. Only a minute later, my phone buzzed against my palm. I opened my eyes… and stared up at the cracked plaster ceiling of my old apartment. I was paralyzed. Had I actually teleported? But the nightmare was just beginning. The new tenants of my old place were a young married couple. The wife, returning early from a grueling night shift, found me in her home. Assuming I was an escort hired by her husband, she called the police. I frantically called Thomas to vouch for me, expecting comfort. Instead, his voice came through the receiver cold and dripping with venom. “I knew it! You’ve been playing these mind games just to sneak out and sleep around. I hope you’re ready to be ruined.” I had no way to defend myself. The story spread online like wildfire. During a forced reconstruction at the scene, the tenant’s furious family cornered me, and in the chaos, they beat me to death on the concrete. And then, my eyes snapped open. I was back on the night we first moved in… … Looking at the pristine, freshly painted walls of the townhouse, a violent shiver ran down my spine. This was the place where the nightmare had started. Beside me, Thomas stepped out of the shower, drying his hair. He wrapped his arms around me, his shoulders heavy with fatigue. “Sweetheart, we worked so hard today,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Let’s just pass out. We’re getting married next month, and we have a million things to do.” But I couldn’t close my eyes. I shook him, my voice trembling. “Thomas, please. Can we go to a hotel tonight? Just for tonight.” He frowned, his eyes barely open. “Don’t start, Diana. You’ve been complaining about renting for years, and we finally have our own place. I’m too tired for these games. Go to sleep.” He turned over, and within seconds, his heavy snoring filled the room. My heart hammered against my ribs. In my previous life, my sudden disappearances had made him despise me. He had left me to rot in a holding cell, canceled the wedding, and let the public tear me apart. I had died without ever knowing how I was being transported twenty miles across the city. This time, I had to survive. I packed a small bag, woke Thomas up, and dragged him to a nearby hotel. He was furious, his face a silent, stony mask. But as I lay on the crisp, bleach-scented hotel sheets, I finally felt safe. I drifted into the deepest sleep I’d had in days. The next morning, I woke up. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I was lying on the dusty hardwood floor of my old apartment. The empty rooms stared back at me, mocking my relief. It hadn’t been the townhouse. The curse was tied to me, not the walls. I rushed back to the hotel. Without a keycard, I had to knock until Thomas opened the door, his eyes bloodshot and heavy with resentment. “What the hell is wrong with you, Diana?” his voice was a dangerous whisper. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under to pay for this wedding? You refuse to sleep in our own home, drag me to a hotel, and then sneak out at dawn without even taking your keycard! If you’re having second thoughts about us, just say it.” Tears stung my eyes. I wanted to scream, to tell him the terrifying truth. But then, a memory of his cold, sneering face from my past life flashed before me. A chilling thought took root: “What if Thomas is behind this?” We had met through a local matchmaking agency—a practical arrangement for two people reaching the age where society expects marriage. There was no grand romance. We bought the townhouse in a rush to satisfy our families. Later, I’d heard rumors of a girl he used to love, his first love who had moved abroad, the golden standard he’d spent his youth waiting for. Over the past week, he’d been taking secretive phone calls, slipping away whenever his screen lit up. Had he done something to me? Was this a scheme to ruin my reputation, to drive me mad, or even end my life before the wedding—leaving him free to marry his first love without looking like the villain? I swallowed my fear and forced a warm, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, babe. The hotel didn’t have breakfast, and I was starving. I ran out in a hurry and forgot the card.” His eyes swept over my silk nightgown, sharp and accusatory. “Who goes out for breakfast dressed like that? Or were you meeting someone?” Anger flared in my chest. “You’re the one betraying me, and you’re turning it on me?” But I kept my composure. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m exhausted from the move. Who would I be meeting at dawn?” He grunted, letting me in. I pretended to be remorseful, checked out, and returned to the townhouse with him. That night, I secretly downed several energy drinks. I set an alarm on my digital watch to vibrate every five minutes. I was going to catch him in the act. Thomas went to bed early, claiming exhaustion. I turned off the lights and faked my breathing, waiting in the dark. In the dead of night, he slipped out of bed and crept to the balcony. I followed him like a shadow, stopping just by the glass door. Through the quiet night air, I heard a woman crying on the other end of the line: “I came back for you… I miss you so much…” My chest tightened. It was her. But then, Thomas’s voice cut through the dark, cold and unyielding: “I told you, it’s over. I’m getting married. My fiancée is wonderful, and she put down the entire down payment on our home. Stop calling me.” He hung up. Relief washed over me, sweet and overwhelming. He had chosen me. When he crawled back into bed, I wrapped my arms around him, letting my guard down. Under the heavy blanket of warmth, the exhaustion of the past few days caught up to me. I drifted off. Five minutes later, my watch buzzed against my wrist. I opened my eyes. I was back in the old apartment. I didn’t run this time. If Thomas wasn’t the cause, and the townhouse wasn’t the trigger, then the mystery lay in this empty apartment. If I didn’t find the answer today, tonight would be my last. I searched every corner, but the place was bare. Nothing but dust and empty built-ins. As I walked toward the front door, I heard voices outside. My former neighbors were gossiping in the hallway. “It’s a good thing those kids moved out. It was only a matter of time before something terrible happened.” “Such a shame the new tenants don’t know the history. Nobody in their right mind would live here.” “The landlord is a crook. He knew what happened, but he kept renting it out anyway.” My blood ran cold. I threw the door open, startling them. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with this apartment?” They stared at me in shock. “Diana? You’re still here?” “I just came back to pick up a few things,” I lied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I heard you talking.” The older woman sighed, looking at me with pity. “Well, since you’re out, I suppose it doesn’t hurt to tell you. The landlord’s wife committed suicide in that living room. They say her spirit lingers, looking for a substitute to take her place. We were terrified for you two. It’s a miracle you made it out untouched.” A substitute? Was a restless spirit dragging me back here? I called the landlord, Charles. He was instantly defensive, his voice tight and hostile. “My wife’s death is none of your business. You’ve moved out. Leave me alone!” He slammed the phone down. I stared at the center of the living room, where I always woke up. There were a few loose floorboards that Charles had repeatedly refused to fix during our lease. I grabbed a crowbar from the closet and pried them up. Beneath the wood lay several bizarre talismans and an unfamiliar brass artifact. Terrified, I called a local paranormal investigator. He inspected the rooms, then shook his head. “The talismans were placed by the landlord to quiet his own conscience, not to trap a spirit. If a vengeful ghost wanted you, she would have taken you while you lived here. Why wait until you moved?” Another expert agreed. “The apartment has excellent natural light—the living room gets the most sun in the building. No negative energy could harbor here. The space is completely clear.” The lead evaporated. If it wasn’t the house, the ghost, or Thomas… what was it? The dark? What if I slept during the day? I went back to the townhouse, set up a hidden camera in the bedroom, and fell asleep. Three hours later, I woke up in the old apartment. The sun was setting. I checked the remote camera feed on my phone. At the exact moment I fell asleep, the screen dissolved into static. When the picture cleared, the bed was empty. I was gone. Despair washed over me. Was my fate set in stone? No. I refused to let my life be cut short. I bought a crate of energy drinks and returned home. Thomas watched me with a deep scowl. “You’re acting insane, Diana. Are you staying awake just so you can slip out to meet someone else?” Looking at him—the man who had turned his back on his first love for me, the man I had lost in a previous life—I felt a swell of affection. I raised my hand. “I promise you, Thomas. I’m doing this for us.” I drank energy drink after energy drink, waking him up every thirty minutes to prove I was still there. He was furious, but I survived the night. Morning came. He dressed for work, glaring at me. “You’ve lost your mind. You’re trying to drive me crazy so you can leave me for someone else, aren’t you?” I couldn’t explain. I let him leave, intending to close my eyes for just a second. I reached for my phone to email my boss, but before my fingers touched the screen, my surroundings shifted. I was in the old apartment. On the master bed. And the male tenant was sleeping right beside me. The bedroom door swung open. His wife, holding a towel, froze. She screamed. “I knew I smelled another woman’s perfume in here! You’ve been hiding in my house! Did this bastard invite you over while I was on shift? You cheap, disgusting home-wrecker!” The husband woke up, utterly bewildered. The wife called the police. History was repeating itself. I tried to grab her arm. “Please, listen to me! I used to live here—” She slapped me across the face, cutting me off. “Do you think I’m stupid? No decent woman is found in another man’s bed in her nightgown at dawn!” She dragged me into the hallway by my hair, screaming for the neighbors. The same gossiping women from yesterday shook their heads. “So that’s why she kept coming back in the mornings. She was scouting the place!” “I heard she’s supposed to get married. How disgusting.” The police arrived and detained me. I pleaded, “I don’t know how I got here! Every time I fall asleep, I wake up in this building!” The crowd laughed. The wife pointed to a nanny cam in the corner of her living room. “If you teleported, let’s see the footage!” I felt a surge of hope—the camera would prove my innocence. But when they played the video, my heart stopped. I hadn’t materialized. The footage showed me unlocking the front door, stepping inside, and looking directly at the camera with a chilling, mischievous grin before slipping into the bedroom. The neighbors recorded the screen, posting the video online. “Cheating bride caught in the act” went viral. Then, Thomas arrived, breathless and pale. I reached out to him, but his words cut like a knife. “I knew it. She stayed awake all night pretending to love me just so she could sneak out the second I left. She’s a liar and a cheat. The wedding is off.” He tore our wedding invitation to pieces and threw them in my face. My phone rang; my boss was firing me. The tenant’s brothers arrived, their faces twisted in rage. “You think you can ruin our sister’s marriage and get away with it?” They lunged. In my past life, this was where the darkness took me. I curled into a ball, bracing for the blows. But as my eyes swept the floor, I saw something small glinting in the dusty corner under the console table. My mind clicked. The pieces fell into place. I stood up, staring cold and hard at the angry crowd. “I can prove my innocence.”
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