Chapter 1

 The morning rose gently over the city, its timid rays filtering through the drawn curtains of Néo's apartment. She woke up without a sound, as if the air itself knew not to disturb her first moments of awareness. Time seemed suspended, each minute stretching like a familiar melody.

She got up, her silhouette stretching beneath the soft light. Mornings, Néo knew well: the same alarm clock ringing at 7:30, the same cup of coffee she made mechanically, the same gestures she made without thinking, like a dance repeated day after day. Everything was in place. Everything was normal.

In the kitchen, the coffee was steaming, its scent blending with the fresh morning air. Néo placed her hands on the counter, her mind still slightly foggy. She sat by the window, her gaze absent, fixed on the street below. Passersby walked with their lives, as they did every day, unaware of the intensity of their banality. She wished her mind would settle on a specific thought, but a faint sense of emptiness lingered.

"What's wrong?" she asked herself, but got no answer. Everything seemed normal, yet an odd feeling hung in the air, like an invisible thread subtly tugging at her thoughts.

Max entered the room, his hair tousled and a cup of coffee in hand. "Do you want some sugar?" he asked, his eyes still half-closed. She nodded absentmindedly. Max had been her friend for years. They understood each other without needing to speak, or at least, that's what she thought.

He sat down across from her, his fingers tapping nervously on his cup. "Are you okay?" he asked, his smile a bit too calm to be natural. She looked at him, this question unsettling her, but she couldn't pinpoint why. She simply replied, "Yeah, I'm fine," before looking away.

Deep down, something wasn't right, but she couldn't explain it.

Layla entered next, her presence as captivating as always. Her blonde hair, perfectly styled, shone under the soft morning light. She sat next to Néo, her gaze slightly more intense than usual. "So, how's life?" Layla asked, her tone just a little too insistent. Néo responded with an automatic smile.

Antoine came in last, slightly late as usual. He seemed distracted, but forced a smile when he saw her. He joined them, his gaze lingering just a fraction too long on Néo before he looked away, as if he'd noticed something she hadn't.

She shook her head, trying to focus. None of this made sense. It was just another day, wasn't it? Yet, confusion slowly crept into her mind.

Later, as she ran some errands, she stumbled upon an old notebook in the corner of a bookstore. Curious, she opened it. Inside, a name seemed oddly familiar: "Néo". She furrowed her brow, wondering if the notebook had belonged to someone she knew. But as she flipped through the pages, she realized there were things she didn't remember writing. The words were blurry, the sentences incomprehensible. Yet they seemed like hers, and there was a strange resonance with recent events. Words like "Max," "Layla," and "Antoine" appeared again and again.

She closed the notebook hurriedly, a strange heat rising in her chest. The sense of unease grew. Where had she seen this notebook before? Why did these words disturb her so much? She looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed.

Back home, Néo placed the notebook on her desk. She looked at herself in the mirror, inspecting her reflection. For a moment, she thought she saw something... different. A small detail: a slight change in her eyes, a glint that hadn't been there before. She blinked, but the image in the mirror didn't change. She took a deep breath and turned away.

The mirror was silent. Just like the rest of the world.

And yet, deep down, Néo knew. There was something she couldn't quite grasp, something watching her in return, from the shadows.