The morning felt wrong. The air was too still, the sun too high. You woke to the sound of ocean waves, same as always—but something deep in your chest whispered not again.

Kayleigh sat on the sand beside you, knees pulled to her chest. Her hair was tangled, her eyes distant, like she’d been awake for hours.

“Morning,” you said softly.

She didn’t look at you at first. “Do you ever get déjà vu?”

You frowned. “On this island? Every day feels like déjà vu.”

“No,” she said quietly, turning toward you. “I mean real déjà vu. Like… we’ve been here before. Like this exact day already happened.”

You froze. “What do you mean?”

Kayleigh reached into her pocket and pulled out a seashell—smooth, black, and cracked down the middle. “I found this by the shore this morning. But look.”

You blinked as she held out her other hand—another seashell. The same one. Identical.

“I found that one yesterday,” she whispered. “And yesterday… felt exactly like this.”

A chill slid through you. “Maybe you’re just tired.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “You think I haven’t thought that? But I remember things that shouldn’t be real. A bonfire that hasn’t happened yet. Amber saying something she hasn’t said. And you—”

She hesitated.

“What about me?” you asked.

Kayleigh’s voice softened. “You told me something last night. Something I can’t get out of my head. But when I asked you about it this morning, you didn’t remember.”

“What did I say?”

“That this isn’t the first version of the island. That it resets.”