His breath caught in his throat.
This wasn't possible.
He had buried this memory, buried her.
She smiled, tilting her head slightly, as if waiting for him to say something.
"I…" The words wouldn't come.
She patted the spot beside her, an invitation.
His feet moved before he could stop them. He sat down, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. She was real. Solid. He could feel the warmth of her presence beside him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, finally, she broke the silence.
"You've been running."
Jude's fingers curled against his palm. He looked down at them, feeling the tension in his body grow heavier.
"I don't know what's real anymore," he admitted.
She hummed softly. "Does it matter?"
He looked at her then, really looked at her. She hadn't changed, not in the way time should have made inevitable. Her hair still fell in soft waves around her shoulders, her eyes still held that quiet understanding.
"You're not supposed to be here," he whispered.
