The dinner was supposed to be simple.
Just us, the stars above, a picnic blanket, and Theo trying to light a fire with an eyebrow trimmer because he "forgot matches are banned on lunar soil."
But things are never simple when your boyfriend once promised you the moon—and then actually got you there.
We sat under a dome of reinforced glass, the Earth glowing like a distant dream above us. The table between us was set with food from a mysterious delivery crate labeled: "Property of Project Echo—DO NOT CONSUME."
So naturally, we consumed it.
Ariel was suspicious of the strawberry shortcake. "It's too perfect. I bet it's a trap."
Theo had two bites already. "Well then, I'm two-thirds doomed."
I laughed, more out of exhaustion than amusement. My body ached from rocket repairs, tower escapes, and the emotional whiplash of being attacked by my own robotic clone.
Then I noticed it—tucked under my plate.
A folded piece of paper.
I opened it.
Inside was a drawing.
Not a map, not a blueprint—no, this was a sketch of a dinner. **This dinner.** Same table, same candles, same Theo with whipped cream on his nose.
"Guys… someone predicted this."
Theo froze. "Okay, that's creepy."
Ariel took the paper, squinting. "No… wait. Look closer."
In the bottom right corner, there was a signature. Not ink. Not pen. It was **burned** into the paper.
Three letters.
**L.E.O.**
We looked at each other.
That name again.
Leo.
The name that kept showing up in files, voice recordings, and now… dinner predictions?
Before we could process it, the floor beneath us vibrated.
A soft hum.
Then… a voice. Mechanical, smooth, like a whisper inside our skulls.
**"Final phase initiated. All reflections, report."**
Ariel stood up. "What the hell was that?"
"Reflections?" Theo echoed. "You think they mean—"
Suddenly, one of the candles flickered.
And from its flame, a shape formed.
A face.
**My face.**
The clone—Echo me—smiling.
Then it vanished in a puff of smoke.
The food turned cold.
The dome lights dimmed.
And in the distance, the tower lit up again—red and pulsing like a heartbeat.
Dinner was officially over.
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