Chapter 1

My world resets every Sunday.

I wake up in this minimalist Los Angeles condo, the white walls so bright they hurt my eyes. A man is always sitting in the chair by the window.

He has kind eyes and a patient smile.

"Morning, Gabby," he says.

His name is Ethan. He tells me this every Sunday. He also tells me we' re engaged.

Then he tells me about the accident. Two years ago. Rock climbing. I fell. I hit my head.

Now, my memory has a seven-day limit. Every Sunday morning, the last two years vanish, and I' m 25 again, back on that cliffside, just before the fall.

He hands me a small silver thumb drive.

"It' s all in here," he says, his voice soft. "Everything you' ve forgotten."

I plug it into the laptop on the bedside table. The videos start.

There' s Ethan, his face streaked with dirt and tears, pulling me up after the fall. There he is in a hospital room, down on one knee, slipping a diamond ring onto my finger. There we are, hiking in Yosemite, laughing in front of a waterfall. Kissing under the desert stars in Joshua Tree.

He' s my hero. He' s my fiancé. He takes care of me.

A wave of guilt washes over me. I' m a burden. A broken record he has to reset every week.

"I' m so sorry, Ethan," I whisper, my eyes fixed on the screen.

"Don' t be," he says, wrapping his arms around me. "I' d do it a million times over."

His phone buzzes. He pulls away to answer it.

"Hey, Maria. Yeah, she' s up. The usual. Give us an hour."

Maria. My best friend. The name feels warm, familiar.

"Is Maria coming over?" I ask, a genuine smile spreading across my face for the first time this morning.

"She is," Ethan says. "She works with me now. At my startup."

"Your startup?"

"Yeah. Your family is funding it. They' ve been amazing. They see it as an investment in our future."

He says they' re in Europe on a long wellness retreat, and they think I' m with them. It was easier that way, he explains. Less confusion for me, less worry for them. It makes a strange kind of sense.

When Maria arrives, she rushes to hug me.

"Oh, Gabby! It' s so good to see you."

But her eyes flick to Ethan. She gives him a look that' s a little too familiar, a little too comfortable. I feel a small, sharp pang of something I can' t name.

She' s carrying a brand-new Celine handbag. I know the design. I know the price tag. It seems… out of place for someone working at a startup.

Then I see her wrist.

A new tattoo. It' s a delicate, abstract bird.

A design I sketched in my old notebook years ago. I never showed it to anyone.

"I love your tattoo, Maria," I say, my voice tight.

She glances at it, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "Oh, this? Ethan' s idea. He' s got such great taste."

Later, I' m in the bedroom getting dressed. I pull on a pair of jeans and my ankle feels tender. I look down.

There, just above the bone, is a fresh tattoo. It' s crude, almost scratched into the skin.

Two words.

HE' S LYING.

My blood runs cold. I stumble back, sitting hard on the edge of the bed. I look at my hands. They' re shaking.

I need to call my family. My brother, Andrew.