The following week dawned quietly, sunlight spilling into Ili's small, neatly arranged room like a nosy neighbor peeking through the blinds. He groaned, yanking the blanket over his head. But the rays were relentless, creeping over his blanket fortress until they bathed his face in a golden glow.
"Traitor," he muttered, swatting at the sunlight as though it could hear him.
He sat up, his hair sticking out in every direction, and blinked blearily at his alarm clock. It was already past nine. On his desk, his agenda and scattered notes mocked him with their organized chaos. Scribbled reminders stared back at him: Meet Daiki and Haru at the café. Summer group study session—don't be late this time!
"Another day of thrilling adventures," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Heroic feats like… like… I don't even know."
Ili shuffled to the mirror, running a hand through his bedhead. "Morning, Ili. Looking sharp," he said sarcastically, striking a goofy pose. His reflection raised an unimpressed eyebrow in return.
On a table laid his agenda. Ili frowned slightly, his hand hovering over the page. Something felt off, like a piece of his week had gone missing.
His handwriting looked familiar—of course it did, it was his own—but he couldn't shake the feeling that the notes belonged to someone else, someone who had experienced something he had somehow forgotten.
He stood there for a moment longer, a shiver running down his spine. Then he let out a breath, pushing the strange unease aside. "Come on, Ili," he told himself. "You're probably just tired."
He flipped his agenda closed and got dressed, determined to start the day fresh. Whatever the feeling was, it didn't matter. He had friends to meet and things to do, and that was enough.
The unease lingered at the edges of Ili's mind as he joined Daiki and Haru at their usual café. The smell of fresh coffee and laughter greeted him, blending with the chatter of the bustling crowd.
"Yo, Ili!" Daiki called, waving enthusiastically. "Over here, Mr. Brooding Philosopher!"
Haru snorted, gesturing to the seat next to him. "Took you long enough. Were you busy composing haikus about your tragic existence again?"
Ili rolled his eyes as he sat down. "Haikus? No. A sonnet, maybe."
"Let me guess," Daiki chimed in, grinning. "Roses are red, violets are blue, my memory sucks, and I'm stuck with you?"
"That's disturbingly accurate," Ili said, smirking. "You should take up poetry."
"Pass. My talents lie elsewhere—like finishing this mountain of waffles," Daiki declared, pointing at his plate.
As Daiki dramatically shoveled a towering forkful into his mouth, the syrup dripped onto his sleeve. Haru sighed, handing him a napkin. "Honestly, it's like eating with a toddler."
"Hey, toddlers don't have my charm," Daiki said, winking, his mouth still half-full. "Right, Ili?"
"I plead the fifth," Ili replied, sipping his iced coffee. "By the way, Haru, how's the group project coming?"
Haru narrowed his eyes. "Don't change the subject. You've been spacing out since you got here. What's going on?"
"I don't know." Ili hesitated, swirling his drink. "It's like I'm missing something… or I forgot something important."
Daiki leaned in, his expression mock-serious. "Maybe it's the plot of your life, finally catching up to you."
"Thanks, Sherlock," Ili said dryly. "Very helpful."
After brunch, Ili wandered the city alone. The sun was high, the streets bustling, but a fog hung over his thoughts. He passed through the mall, letting its neon chaos and consumer chatter distract him.
He browsed aimlessly—books he felt he'd read before, shirts that seemed tailored to someone he once was. In a bookstore, he found himself staring at poetry, his fingers drifting over spines like they held answers.
"Can I help you find something?" a gentle voice asked, snapping him out of his daze.
Ili turned to see a young woman, a store employee with kind eyes and a curious smile. He realized he'd been standing still for longer than he'd meant to, staring blankly at a row of poetry books.
"Oh, no, I'm just looking," he said, offering a polite smile. "Thanks, though."
Ili wandered the nearby mall, hoping the lively energy would shake off his lingering unease. He passed bright displays and bustling shoppers, letting the chaos wash over him.
At one point, a small child ran past him, clutching a balloon. The balloon escaped, hitting Ili squarely in the face.
"Even balloons have it out for me," he muttered, glaring at the floating offender as the child's laughter echoed behind him.
He stopped by a clothing store, trying on a shirt that fit a little too well. Admiring himself in the mirror, he struck a dramatic pose. "Now, this is a guy who has his life together."
The fitting room attendant walked by, gave him a look, and said, "Sir, the tag is still on your forehead."
Blushing furiously, Ili peeled off the sticker and bolted out of the store.
"What's wrong with me today?" he murmured, turning the charm over in his fingers. The more he stared at it, the heavier it felt, like it was tethered to a past he had lost.
Suddenly, just as Ili was beginning to relax in the quiet charm shop, he saw her.
A girl.
Golden hair that shimmered like sunlight. A figure frozen near the entrance, her back turned to him—yet his heart reacted before his mind could catch up.
He didn't know her.
But something inside him screamed that he did.
His breath caught. The world dimmed around the edges, sound dulling into a distant hum. His hand gripped the wisteria charm without realizing it, fingers trembling.
''Damn, This is too much for me, too much is happening, like straight out of a movie. What the **** is this, I need to sleep asap, because my mind are playing tricks with me''
Then, he heard.
"Ili?"
The voice was filled with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.
And their eyes met.
Time stopped.
Her eyes—wide, glassy, shimmering with unshed tears—locked onto him like he was the answer to a prayer. Her lips parted as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
He turned, and his breath caught. Standing a few steps away was a girl. Her hair shimmered in the light, and her eyes, wide and glistening, were locked onto him.
She looked like she was fighting back tears, her expression wavering between sadness and a fragile, desperate kind of happiness.
He blinked. Confusion swirled in his chest, but his feet wouldn't move. "Hey," he said carefully, voice soft and uncertain. "Are… are you okay?"
She smiled.
But it wasn't joy. It was a fragile, broken smile—like someone trying not to fall apart.
"I'm fine," she whispered, though her voice cracked. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "I just… it's nothing."
"You seem upset," he said, stepping forward instinctively. His voice had grown quieter, gentler, as if afraid she might shatter.
She looked away. Her eyelashes trembled.
Her eyes softened, and for a moment, she looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. But then she shook her head, blinking back tears. "No, really," she insisted. "It's… it's just good to see you."
His heart thudded painfully in his chest, the confusion and longing almost too much to bear. "Good to see me?" he echoed, trying to make sense of her words. "Do we… know each other?"
That was when her expression truly crumbled.
Her lips quivered. Her eyes lost the battle, and a tear escaped down her cheek. She turned her face away quickly, brushing it aside as if he hadn't seen.
"You don't remember," she said, her voice trembling. "Of course… you don't."
A cold ache spread through his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laced with guilt he didn't understand. "I really don't…"
She shook her head, trying to steady herself. "No, it's okay. I knew this might happen. I just…" She exhaled, her breath shaky. "I wasn't ready."
And then—she turned away.
Each step she took was reluctant, heavy, like leaving something behind she couldn't afford to lose. Ili opened his mouth, but no words came. His heart pounded in his ears.
Say something. Stop her. Ask her who she is.
But he stood frozen.
Right before she disappeared into the crowd, she paused. Her back to him. Shoulders rising in a silent breath.
Then—
"Welcome back, Ili."
He spun around, but she was gone, leaving him alone in the crowded mall. Two words. Soft. Heavy. Final.
She vanished.
And he was left there, breathless, heart racing, the small wooden charm still clutched in his hand like an anchor to a storm he couldn't see.
Who was she?
Why did her voice sound like home… and heartbreak?
His legs finally moved, but too late. She was gone.
''But how does she know me…,my name, when I don't remember knowing her''