It started small.

Tyler Durden wasn’t supposed to be real. Not in the literal sense. But somewhere between sleepless nights, stress, and a life that felt unbearably heavy, he appeared. At first, just in the back of your mind—a voice, a whisper, a reckless idea that made your pulse spike.

Then he started showing up.

Not just in your mind. In your life.

At first, it was subtle. You’d make a plan, a decision, and Tyler would suggest a “better” way. Something bolder, faster, sharper. You’d shrug it off, but… it worked. Every time.

“See?” he said once, leaning against your doorway like he owned it. “You could’ve done it, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I just… make it better.”

You laughed nervously, unsure if he was mocking you or… helping. But the next day, he made dinner in a way that was impossibly perfect. He handled your emails, answered messages, dealt with people you’d been avoiding. Things you’d been putting off for weeks—months—he handled effortlessly.

It wasn’t just efficiency. It was… life. Your life. And he was living it better than you ever had.

You tried to intervene once. “Tyler… I can do this. I just—”

“Nope,” he said, cutting you off. “I’ve got it. You? You’re tired. You’re soft. Let me.”

The first time it really hit you was when a friend commented, “Wow… you’ve really changed. You seem… happier, more confident.”

You laughed it off, but deep down, your stomach twisted. Tyler had gone to your job, handled your obligations, taken over the small, mundane tasks that had crushed your energy. He smiled at people in ways you never could, made connections you never dared, even fixed mistakes you hadn’t noticed.

And yet… you were the one left behind.

One night, you came home to find him in your apartment, everything perfectly in place, a drink in hand, reading a book you’d wanted to read but never picked up.

“Hi,” you said, unsure if it was anger, awe, or fear.

He looked up, smirking. “Hi. You’re late.”

“Late? I live here.”

“Not really. I do,” he said simply. “You? You’ve been… sleeping, dreaming, worrying. I’m living. And you? You’re kind of obsolete.”