Ethan stared at the two notes on his desk.
"Meet me on the roof."
"Meet me in the morning."
He traced the crumpled paper. No way this was just a dream.
This was happening.
But how much?
He stood, gut twisted. His room looked the same—same posters, same bed, same dust on the shelves. But now? Everything felt like a lie.
He yanked open his closet. Dug out the box labeled "old crap". Photos. Diaries. Birthday cards. Proof his old life existed.
Flipped through childhood snapshots. Friends grinning, arms slung over shoulders. Normal.
Then—teen years.
Missing faces. Strangers in their place.
His hands shook. No. No.
Photos with Daniel and Andrés—the same kids who'd barely spoken to him in the "dream" school—now grinning in ski trips, birthdays, beaches he'd never been to.
His old life? Still there. But full of holes.
"If I keep dreaming… what else gets erased?"
The thought froze his blood.
He grabbed a notebook. He wrote down the names of people he remembered from his original life, important moments, places he had been.
At the bottom of the page: Her.
His hand cramped. Pen dropped.
He gripped the notebook. "This stays. This has to stay."
If the dreams kept rewriting him… at least he'd have this. Proof he existed before the cracks.
The name sat there on the page, but the closeness he'd once felt now felt miles away.
Would even this fade?
His fists tightened. Not letting it.
Ethan slammed the notebook shut and collapsed onto the bed, frustration boiling over.
Can't live like this. Need answers.
He had to sleep. Had to find her.
Didn't realize when his eyes closed.
When they opened again, cold air bit his lungs.
The rooftop.
The sky glowed warm-hued, like sunset frozen in time. He turned slowly, the familiarity of the place wrapping around him—as if he'd never woken up.
Then—there she was.
A few feet away, watching him with that same calm stare.
Ethan's heart hammered.
This time, no vanishing. This time, answers.
But before he could speak, her voice cut through the quiet:
"You're late."
A chill crawled up Ethan's spine.
Her voice… he'd heard it before, hadn't he?
But before he could reply, she tilted her head, smile sharp as glass.
"Guess that's expected. You always take forever to figure things out."
Ethan opened his mouth—questions clogging his throat—but his brain short-circuited.
How could she say that so casually?
Then the doubt hit:
Did she know he'd come?