A reflection in the train window.
A shadow slipping into the library.
A whisper in the hallway that stopped when I turned around.
She wasn't there. But she was.
And the notebook wasn't just a notebook anymore. It was a map. A time bomb. A mirror with teeth.
The next day, I skipped school.
I wasn't looking for Rhea anymore. Not directly.
I was looking for myself.
Because something was wrong with my memory.
There were gaps I hadn't noticed before. Conversations I swore happened, now replaced with static. A hallway that looked unfamiliar even though I walked it every day.
And people—people I used to know—suddenly didn't know me back.
Like I was glitching out of my own life.
I went to the abandoned music room at the back of the school grounds.
No one used it anymore. Not since the fire.
But I'd seen Rhea near it once. Back when I wasn't paying attention the way I...
Back when I wasn't paying attention the way I should've been.
That thought haunted me as I left the music room.
My steps felt too loud in the hallway, like I didn't belong in the rhythm of this place anymore. Like I'd fallen out of sync with the timeline everyone else was still living in.
I didn't go home.
I went to the rooftop.
No one ever checked up there—not unless you were caught, and I wasn't planning on being caught.
I needed silence.
Space.
But when I reached the top step and pushed open the heavy metal door, she was already there.
Leaning against the railing like she'd been waiting for hours.
Hair down.
Eyes empty.
As if time meant nothing to her anymore.
And maybe it didn't.
"Why me?" I asked.
Not hello. Not where were you. Just why me.
She didn't look at me when she answered.
"You were the one who remembered first."
"Remembered *