I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans for the hundredth time, pacing back and forth outside the cafeteria entrance. My heart's doing that stupid flutter thing again like it's trying to escape my chest.
One week. It's been one whole week since I woke up in this bizarro mirror world where everything's flipped upside down. Women running everything, men treated like delicate flowers, and worst of all, Liz doesn't know who the hell I am.
The Liz Porter who used to curl up against me during movie nights. The Liz who'd roll her eyes at my dumb jokes but laugh anyway. My Liz.
God, just thinking about living in a world where she doesn't remember us makes me want to step in front of a fucking truck. What's even the point?
But I've got this one shot. After awkwardly explaining to her roommate that I needed to see her "on urgent business," I managed to set up this meeting. Behind these doors, she's waiting, probably checking her watch with that little crease between her eyebrows she gets when she's impatient.
I take a deep breath. The numbers are in my favor, right? Five women to every guy in this reality. She'd be crazy not to want me. Even if she doesn't know about our history, we can build something new. We have to.
'If she says no...'
I don't let myself finish that thought. Can't go there. Not yet.
One final deep breath. I push open the cafeteria doors and step inside, scanning the tables for that familiar blonde hair and those piercing hazel eyes that used to look at me like I was her entire world.
I spot her instantly, sitting alone at a corner table with a textbook open and a half-eaten sandwich pushed to the side. My chest tightens. She's exactly as I remember, that perfect posture, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's concentrating. For a split second, I almost convince myself that she'll look up, see me, and everything will click back into place.
But when her eyes finally meet mine, there's nothing. No recognition. No warmth. Just the polite curiosity you'd give a stranger.
I slide into the seat across from her, my rehearsed speech suddenly evaporating from my brain. She shifts in her chair, crossing her arms slightly, a defensive posture I've seen her use in uncomfortable situations a hundred times before.
"Ben, right?" she asks, her voice formal in a way it never was with me.
I nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah, that's me."
We shake hands across the table, and I feel her pulling away almost before our palms touch. The brief contact is so different from how she used to grab my hand and play with my fingers absentmindedly while we talked.
"You told my roommate Catrina you needed to talk to me about something important?" Her tone makes it clear she's already regretting agreeing to this meeting.
I'm suddenly aware of someone watching us. A few tables over, a girl with dark hair and intense eyes is staring directly at us, not even pretending to be subtle about it. Something about her gaze makes my skin crawl, but I've got bigger problems right now.
I try to smile at her, hoping it looks warm and not like I'm having a nervous breakdown. The edges of my lips feel stiff, unnatural.
"Look," I blurt out, the words tumbling over each other, "I know this is going to sound completely insane. We've never spoken, but…" I swallow hard. "I'm in love with you, Liz."
Her eyes widen, lips parting slightly in surprise. For a brief moment, I see something flicker across her face, confusion, maybe even a hint of curiosity. But then her expression hardens, her professional mask sliding back into place.
"That's... flattering," she says carefully, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "But I'm afraid I'm already committed." Her hand moves to her wrist, where she touches a delicate silver bracelet I hadn't noticed before.
"Brian and I have a formal arrangement," she continues, glancing nervously at the dark-haired girl still watching us. "We're set to finalize our contract after graduation. He's... very particular about who I spend time with."
My stomach drops. "Brian?"
"My fiancé," she says, the word hitting me like a physical blow. "He has two wives already, and I'll be joining their household once I finish my degree."
I try to keep my face neutral, but something must show because her expression softens slightly.
"Listen, Ben," she says, gathering her textbook and sandwich wrapper. "I should go. Melissa over there…" she nods toward a girl with brown hair, "she reports back to Brian. He doesn't approve of me having... conversations with uncontracted men."
"Give me a chance," I say, hating how desperate I sound. "Just one coffee. We can talk somewhere private where…"
"That's exactly what I can't do," she cuts me off, standing up. "I appreciate the sentiment, truly. It's not often someone is so... direct. But I've worked too hard for this arrangement. I can't mess this opportunity up."
Something in me snaps. I don't care about dignity anymore. I don't care about how this world works. I reach across the table and grab her hand before she can leave.
"Please," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Liz, I only want you. Not multiple partners, not some arrangement. Just you."
Her eyes widen in alarm as she glances around the cafeteria. Several women at nearby tables have stopped eating to stare at us.
"I'll sign whatever you want," I continue, words spilling out in a desperate rush. "I'll make a contract with you. Exclusive, binding, anything. I don't care about having options. I just want to be with you."
Liz tugs her hand away, clearly uncomfortable. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she leans in, hissing, "Do you have any idea how inappropriate this is? Men don't beg for exclusivity. You're worth more than that."
"I don't care what I'm worth," I insist. "I'm not interested in being passed around or having multiple partners or whatever happens here. I want one person. You."
A few women are openly watching now, whispering behind their hands. I notice Melissa has pulled out her phone and appears to be recording.
"This is beyond inappropriate," Liz says firmly, though her voice wavers slightly. "You're making a scene and embarrassing both of us. Men simply don't... they don't throw themselves away like this."
"I'm not throwing myself away," I argue. "I'm choosing."
Her expression hardens. "Well, I've already made my choice. I'm sorry, but this conversation is over."
She grabs her bag and walks away, her shoulders rigid with tension. I slump back in my chair, watching her go, feeling hollow inside.
"That was quite the performance," comes a silky voice from behind me.
I turn to find Melissa sliding into Liz's vacated seat. Up close, there's something predatory about her smile that makes me deeply uneasy.
"I wasn't performing," I mutter, too drained to be polite.
"Oh, I know," she says, her eyes glittering with amusement. "That's what made it so fascinating. Do you know how rare it is to see a man beg for a single partner? Most would kill for the opportunity to be shared among multiple high-status women."
I don't respond, just stare at the table.
"Brian will be pleased," she continues, tapping her nails against the tabletop. "Your little display just confirmed what a loyal investment Elizabeth will be."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I snap, my voice breaking. "I'm in love with her, and you're turning this into some kind of... Game of Thrones bullshit!"
Melissa tilts her head, genuinely confused. "Game of Thrones? Is that the one with the ring?"
I stare at her in disbelief. "Come on, you know it's not. It's the one with dragons. The political backstabbing, the power plays..."
She stands up, smoothing her skirt with a smirk. "Ahhh, yes. Smaug. The big fire-breathing one."
'What a fucking idiot.'
I can't believe this is happening. I glance around and notice the girl with dark hair is still watching us, her face flushed, looking like she's having trouble breathing. Her eyes are locked on me with an intensity that would be flattering if it wasn't so unsettling.
"Well, regardless," Melissa says, her voice dropping to a cold, professional tone, "please do not approach Elizabeth again. Brian doesn't share what's his, and neither do I."
I feel my world caving in on me. The cafeteria seems to shrink, the air getting thinner. This can't be happening. This can't be real.
"You can't just... forbid me from talking to her," I manage to say, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.
Melissa leans down, her face inches from mine. "I absolutely can. And if you persist, there are ways to deal with problem males that you wouldn't enjoy."
She straightens up, her smile returning. "But I don't think it'll come to that. You seem like a reasonable boy who just got a little... overexcited." She reaches out and pats my cheek condescendingly. "Find yourself a nice primary wife who'll let you have some freedom. Elizabeth is destined for better things."
As she walks away, I sit frozen, unable to process what just happened. My Liz, engaged to some guy named Brian with multiple wives? Me, threatened for even speaking to her? What kind of fucked-up reality is this?
I don't know how long I sit there, staring at the empty space where Liz was sitting. Minutes, maybe. The cafeteria noise fades into a dull roar around me as students filter in and out.
"Your eyes are bleeding."
I look up, startled. The dark-haired girl with the intense stare has slipped into the seat across from me. Up close, her features are unsettling, too perfect, too symmetrical. Her purple-black hair frames a face so pale it's almost translucent.
I reach up and touch my cheek, feeling wetness. "It's just tears," I mutter, wiping them away with my sleeve. "Who the fuck starts a conversation like that?"
"I'm..." She pauses, looking suddenly confused. Her skin... it's hard to describe, but for a second, it seems to ripple like it's made of liquid instead of flesh. Then, it stabilizes, returning to that unnatural smoothness. "I'm Amy."
I stare at her, trying to process what I just saw. Was that a trick of the light?
'I'm so depressed I'm losing my fucking mind.'
"Whatever," I say, pushing my chair back with a screech. "I need to go."
Amy reaches for my arm, her fingers unnaturally cold against my skin. "Wait, don't go."
I jerk away, a crushing wave of emptiness washing over me. What's the point? Liz is gone. Not just gone. She never even existed. Not my Liz. Not here. The weight of it all presses down on me until I can barely breathe.
"But I'm hungry," Amy whines, her voice taking on a petulant, childish quality that grates against my already frayed nerves.
I don't even look back at her. "Then go eat something."
I push through the cafeteria doors, my feet moving on autopilot. The campus around me blurs as I walk, students passing like ghosts. Nothing feels real anymore. Nothing matters. The science building looms ahead, its roof extending several stories above the quad. Perfect.
My mind empties as I climb the stairs. No more pain. No more waking up every morning remembering what I've lost. No more existing in a world where the only person who matters doesn't know I exist.
The access door to the roof is supposed to be locked, but someone's jammed it open with a brick. Convenient. The new world finally cutting me a break when it doesn't matter anymore.
The wind whips across the rooftop as I step out near the observatory. It's peaceful up here. Quiet. I walk to the edge and look down. Five stories. That should be enough.
I wonder if death will reset things again. Maybe I'll wake up in yet another reality, one where Liz and I can be together. Or maybe there's just nothing. Either way, it has to be better than this hollow ache.
I approach the back side of the building. I don't want to fall in front of a bunch of students and ruin their day after all so i might as well fall into an empty alley way. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, shifting my weight forward.
The wind rushes past my ears as I fall, a strange sense of peace washing over me. I laugh, a hollow, broken sound that gets carried away by the wind. This was actually easier than I thought it would be. Just one step and gravity does the rest. No more pain. No more empty world without Liz.
But when I open my eyes, I see her, Hungry Amy, standing in the alley below me, arms outstretched, her face set with bizarre determination. She's running, trying to position herself directly beneath me.
"Move, you idiot!" I scream, horror replacing my calm. "You'll die too!"
She doesn't budge, just stares up at me with those unnaturally purple eyes, a strange smile on her face.
I brace for my double suicide.
I make impact. But instead of the crushing pain I expected, I feel something give way beneath me. Something cold and viscous. Amy... explodes. There's no other word for it. Her body bursts into a flood of purple slime that splatters across the alley, coating the walls and ground in thick, glittering goo.
I land on my stomach, completely unharmed, covered in the sticky substance but without a single broken bone. Impossible.
Next to me lies what's left of Amy's face, a single eye, part of her nose, and her mouth, all suspended in a quivering mass of purple. The mouth moves, forming words.
"Please help me," it says over and over. "Please help me. Please help me."
I scramble backward on my hands and ass, heart hammering in my chest. "What the fuck? What the actual fuck?!"
The mouth keeps moving, pleading. "Please help me. I'm so hungry. Please help me. Please put me back together."