Rachel saw "Jess" on the terrace, but she wasn't with "Jason." She was kissing a stranger. The betrayal felt personal, a jagged glass shard cutting through Rachel’s alcohol-induced haze. The next day, the news headlines screamed:

As the fog finally began to lift, Rachel realized she hadn't been watching a perfect romance from the train. she had been watching a crime in progress. The truth wasn't buried in Megan's garden or the stranger's arms—it was hidden in the stories Rachel had been told about herself.

Rachel woke up that same morning with a matted gash on her forehead and no memory of the night before—only blurry images of a dark tunnel and the taste of copper in her mouth.