Checking to See if the App is GONE Gone

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, suddenly curious if any trace of the app remains. Clara watches you with interest, pulling the sheet around her bare shoulders.

"What are you looking for?" she asks, scooting closer to peer at the screen.

"Just checking if there's anything left of... you know," you reply, unlocking the phone with your thumb. The familiar home screen appears—no pink glow, no bubbly Becky waiting to torment you with tasks.

You swipe through your apps methodically. Instagram, TikTok, banking apps, games—all normal. No sign of The Perfect Girlfriend App anywhere. You check your app store history, searching for any record of the download.

"Nothing," you murmur, scrolling through your photos next. "It's like it never existed."

Curiously, you open Instagram and navigate to Mia's profile—the one that had appeared fully formed with months of fabricated history. The page refuses to load, displaying an error message: "User not found."

"My Instagram's gone too," you tell Clara, showing her the screen. "Mia O'Sullivan has vanished from the digital world."

Clara takes the phone, scrolling through your camera roll. "The photos are still here though," she says, stopping on a selfie of you as Mia—copper hair tumbling over one shoulder, green eyes sparkling, those full lips curved in a smile. "This one's from Sunday morning. At my place."

You lean closer, your chest pressing against her bare shoulder. "That's... weird. Physical evidence, but no digital footprint."

"Maybe the app only changed how people perceived you," Clara suggests, continuing to scroll. "Not actual reality."

She stops on another photo—the bathtub selfie from last night, with her visible in the background. Her cheeks flush slightly at the intimate memory.

"Well, that definitely happened," she says softly.

"Yeah," you agree, taking the phone back. "That part was very real."

You check your messages next, finding your conversations with David intact. The texts about bringing home groceries, about Clara coming over, all still there. But the exchanges with Becky have vanished completely.

"It's like the app cleaned up after itself," you observe. "Left just enough to maintain continuity, but erased its own existence."

"Convenient," Clara remarks dryly. "No evidence means no one would believe you."

"Except you," you say. "And David."

She smiles, fingers tracing patterns on your chest where remnants of whipped cream still cling. "Lucky for you, we're both pretty open-minded."

You set the phone down, turning your full attention back to Clara. The absence of the app confirms what you already suspected—that chapter has closed. Whatever remains of the experience is within you, changed but whole again.

"So," Clara says, leaning into you with newfound certainty. "What does Matt like for breakfast? Because I'm starving."

10:30 | Tuesday 5 August 2025 | David's Bedroom