Alexa Mendoza wakes with a gasp.

It’s supposed to be morning in her room—messy hair, alarm blaring, her spine aching from falling asleep on homework again.

But instead…

The room is different. Brighter. Pink walls. Cheerful posters. Zero hospital equipment. Zero chemo scarves on the nightstand.

She sits up slowly, heart pounding.

“What the…?”

No meds on the dresser. No calendar full of appointments. Not even the faint scars she always touches on her shoulder.

She checks her reflection—healthy cheeks, full hair, warm skin.

It hits her like a punch.

She never got cancer.

But before she can process the shock, the door opens.

“Morning, sweetie!” her mom calls. “Breakfast is ready!”

Alexa stares. Her mom looks… relaxed. Not exhausted. Not haunted. Younger.

Alexa stands up on shaky legs. “Mom? What year is it?”

Her mom laughs. “Did you sleep that hard? It’s the same year it was yesterday. Come on—Katie’s downstairs waiting!”

Alexa freezes.

Katie is her best friend, sure… But you are the one who sat with her during chemo. You are the one who held her hand when she lost her hair. You are the one who stayed up whispering jokes with her when she couldn’t sleep. You are the one she leaned on when she thought she wouldn’t make it.

In this timeline… you don’t exist in her world.

Not as her friend. Not as her lifeline. Not as anything.