Amir has prepared for this moment for months. The office is quiet; the interviewer is friendly but sharp. One wrong answer could change everything. He tells his story — the journey, the setbacks, the break he almost did not get.

The interviewer nods and closes the folder. Then she asks the one question he did not prepare for — and the room goes still.

Amir's new roommate has a pet, a habit of cooking at 2 a.m., and a surprise guest who never seems to leave. They have one week to make the apartment presentable for the landlord's inspection. It is not going well.

They finally get the place spotless. The doorbell rings. Amir opens it — and the wrong person is standing there, with the wrong checklist, and a smile that says nothing good.

Amir and Sam have been talking for months — messages, calls, one postponed coffee. Tonight they finally meet. The café is crowded; the conversation is easy. For a moment, everything feels possible.

Sam's phone buzzes. The expression changes. When they look up, they say the one thing Amir has been dreading: 'I have to tell you something before this goes further.'

Amir walks into the new job with a mix of nerves and pride. The team is welcoming; the work is exactly what he wanted. He spends the day learning names, taking notes, and trying not to stand out in the wrong way.

At 5 p.m. his manager calls him into the office. He is sure it is routine — until he sees the folder on the desk and the look on her face.

Amir boards the last train home. The car is empty except for one other passenger. The doors close. The train moves. Then it stops between stations, and the lights go out. The other passenger is no longer in their seat.

When the lights flicker back on, Amir is alone. But the train has not moved — and the door at the end of the car is now open, leading somewhere that should not exist.