Enid Sinclair wasn’t used to change. She thrived in routine, and after Wednesday Addams had left Nevermore, the absence left a hollow gap in Enid’s world. It wasn’t just that she missed her roommate, but that strange, dark presence that Wednesday brought with her the mystery, the quiet strength was no longer there to balance Enid’s colorful energy.

It was supposed to be temporary. A new girl had transferred in to fill the void in Enid’s dorm room, but no one had warned her just how strange it would feel. The girl wasn’t anything like Wednesday. She was quieter, less sharp around the edges. Her style was unmistakably gothic, but softer somehow darker shades of purple and crimson blending into her attire, rather than the stark black Wednesday was known for.

Still, there was something in her eyes that caught Enid off guard. Something that made Enid pause every time she caught the girl staring out the window or absently adjusting her black lace gloves. It was a reflection faint, but undeniably present of Wednesday.

The first time Enid noticed it was when they were unpacking, the room silent except for the soft sound of zippers and drawers closing. The new girl had just placed a small, antique mirror on the desk. She looked into it, her gaze distant, almost lost, as if she wasn’t really seeing herself but someone else.

“Do you miss her?” Enid asked without thinking.

The girl didn’t startle. She didn’t even flinch at the question. Instead, she tilted her head, those eyes so much like Wednesday’s meeting Enid’s with a calmness that made Enid’s stomach twist.

“Miss who?” the girl replied, but there was an edge in her voice, like she already knew exactly who Enid meant.

“Wednesday,” Enid said, her voice quieter than she intended.

For a moment, the girl said nothing. She just stood there, her reflection flickering in the mirror as she stared back at Enid.

“I suppose,” she finally said, turning her attention back to her reflection. “Everyone misses something.”

The way she said it, the way her words hung in the air, felt like a secret. Like she was a part of something some invisible thread connecting her to Wednesday, a connection Enid wasn’t sure she understood.

The more time Enid spent with the new girl, the more she noticed the small things the way she moved with that same elegant, eerie grace Wednesday had, the subtle but knowing expressions on her face, and the cold, almost ethereal aura that she carried with her. She didn’t speak much, but when she did, her words were laced with that same dry wit that Enid had come to love about Wednesday.

And yet, for all the similarities, there was something entirely different about her. This new girl smiled more. She let herself be seen more. While Wednesday had been a fortress of secrets and unspoken depths, this girl felt like an enigma wrapped in mystery, but not entirely closed off.

Enid found herself drawn to her, in a way that was both familiar and foreign. There were nights when she’d sit on her bed, staring at the girl across the room, as she sat quietly, reading her obscure books or sketching something that Enid could never quite make out.

One evening, Enid couldn’t take it anymore. The pull, the curiosity, the strange familiarity that gripped her whenever she was near the girl it was too strong to ignore.

“You’re different,” Enid blurted out, unable to stop herself.

The girl glanced up from her book, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on her face, and for a moment, Enid thought she saw the faintest twitch of a smile on her lips.

“Different how?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re like… her,” Enid said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The girl set her book down, slowly, deliberately. Her gaze softened but remained intense. “I’m not Wednesday, Enid. But I understand why you would think that.”

There was something in her tone something gentle but firm that made Enid hesitate. She had to be careful here, she realized. This girl was a mystery, and Enid didn’t want to pry too deeply.