Kenzo’s life slipped back into routine too easily.

He went to work. He laughed when he was supposed to. He slept through the night without dreams. On the surface, everything looked normal — too normal — like a story that skipped its most important pages.

But something inside him felt muted.

He noticed it when his mother hugged him and he felt nothing. When a joke landed and he smiled a second too late. When sadness came and passed without staying long enough to hurt.

“You’ve changed,” Tunde said one afternoon, watching him closely. “You’re calmer.”

Kenzo nodded, forcing a smile. Calm was better than terror, right?

That night, standing alone in his bathroom, he stared at his reflection. For a moment, the mirror lagged — just a heartbeat too slow — and his reflection blinked after he did.

Kenzo’s chest tightened.

He touched the spot where the mark used to be.

No glow. No pain.

Just a faint numbness, like a scar you forget until the weather changes.

As he turned off the light, he heard it — not a whisper, not a voice — just a soft, familiar breath behind him.

When he spun around, the room was empty.

But the mirror was still fogged.

And written across it, traced slowly from the inside, were four words:

“You didn’t leave alone.”

Kenzo’s life slipped back into routine too easily.

He went to work. He laughed when he was supposed to. He slept through the night without dreams. On the surface, everything looked normal — too normal — like a story that skipped its most important pages.

But something inside him felt muted.

He noticed it when his mother hugged him and he felt nothing. When a joke landed and he smiled a second too late. When sadness came and passed without staying long enough to hurt.

“You’ve changed,” Tunde said one afternoon, watching him closely. “You’re calmer.”

Kenzo nodded, forcing a smile. Calm was better than terror, right?

That night, standing alone in his bathroom, he stared at his reflection. For a moment, the mirror lagged — just a heartbeat too slow — and his reflection blinked after he did.

Kenzo’s chest tightened.

He touched the spot where the mark used to be.

No glow. No pain.

Just a faint numbness, like a scar you forget until the weather changes.

As he turned off the light, he heard it — not a whisper, not a voice — just a soft, familiar breath behind him.

When he spun around, the room was empty.

But the mirror was still fogged.

And written across it, traced slowly from the inside, were four words:

“You didn’t leave alone.”