Unraveled

Chapter 1

Caleb woke, disoriented, unsure of where he was. The silk sheets wrapped around him felt strange, almost too luxurious. He opened his eyes to a room glowing in soft morning light pouring through wide windows. High above, a chandelier hung from a ceiling that seemed to reach forever, its glass fixtures sparkling like scattered stars.

As he leaned on one elbow, his gaze drifted over the room's opulence. Large canvases covered the walls, each painted in vivid, abstract strokes that felt alive. The furniture mixed sleek modern lines with timeless elegance. From the smooth leather of the couches to the polished wood of the coffee table, everything looked untouched, perfect. This was no ordinary room; it was a sanctuary from the outside world.

Caleb swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet sinking into the thick carpet. He moved toward the window, sidestepping an ottoman. Outside, the city—he didn't know which one—hummed with life; cars threaded through streets lined by tall buildings, and beyond them, green hills rolled into the distance.

Confused, Caleb scanned the room for any hint of who he was or how he'd ended up here. His eyes caught on a mahogany desk scattered with papers and an open laptop. On the screen was an unfinished email, frozen mid-sentence. Drawn by a mix of dread and curiosity, he approached.

Beside the laptop stood a photo frame. In the picture, he saw himself, smiling broadly with his arm around a woman whose laughter seemed to fill the space. Sunlight lit their faces, casting a warm glow. He studied the photo, searching for a spark of familiarity, but there was nothing. It felt like a glimpse into someone else's life, one he couldn't recall.

Turning from the desk, he noticed an open door leading to a luxurious bathroom. Scents of sandalwood and jasmine hung in the air. Silver fixtures and marble counters gleamed under soft lights; thick towels lay neatly on a rack beside a bathtub big enough to wade in.

He splashed cold water on his face, hoping to jolt some memory loose. But the water only trickled down his jaw, leaving behind a stark emptiness, as if his past had washed away.

Frustrated, Caleb returned to the bedroom, rubbing his face. That's when he saw it—a sleek iPhone resting on the nightstand. It was a slim rectangle of glass and metal that offered a possible link to his past. Heart pounding, Caleb picked it up, positioning it before his face. The phone buzzed and unlocked, revealing his own face on the lock screen—a silent confirmation of his identity.

The screen filled with notifications. His hands shook as he tapped through app after app, searching for anything that could anchor him. Each swipe felt like an urgent plea for answers in a fog of confusion.

In his messages, he found a chat with someone named "Marco," discussing shifts at a place called the Gilded Plate—a name that hinted at luxury but held no meaning. Another conversation, with a woman named Isabelle, caught his attention. Her contact picture matched the woman from the photo on the desk. As he skimmed their exchanges, he saw they were close—likely cousins. Their messages painted a portrait of deep affection, inside jokes, and encouragement, yet it all felt foreign.

But as he scrolled back, the messages took on a worried tone.

Isabelle: "Hey, are you alive? Haven't heard from you in a bit."

A few hours later: "Okay, seriously, Caleb, where are you? You've gone radio silent."

The following day: "Caleb?? Call me, or I'll come over and drag you out of wherever you've disappeared to. Don't test me."

Three more texts followed, each more concerned:

Isabelle: "I'm getting worried now. Please respond."

Isabelle: "This isn't like you. Did something happen? We're family, Caleb. You can talk to me."