She died in a car accident. Drunk driver. Instant. They said she didn't suffer.
The other Alex — this world's version of me — had been devastated. Therapy, antidepressants, grief support groups. He was barely functional for the first year.
The messages painted a picture of a man still drowning. Still visiting her grave every Sunday. Still sleeping on one side of the bed.
I was living in his body now. Wearing his grief like a borrowed coat.
I needed to find a way back. But the device was in my world, with my Nina. I had nothing — no technology, no physics knowledge, no way to contact her across dimensions.
I was trapped.
Day one in the parallel world.
I went to Nina's grave.