The Life I Thought I Knew

My daily routine had always been normal. My life was simple, and honestly, I liked it that way. There was nothing extraordinary about me, nothing that made people turn around and wonder who I was. I was just Abby—a student in the last year of middle school, trying to survive homework, exams, endless assignments, and the constant pressure of getting good grades before high school started. Next year would be different. New classes, new teachers, new expectations. I knew I would have to work harder than I ever had before, especially because I had already decided what I wanted to do with my future. I wanted to become a neurosurgeon. The idea had been in my mind for years, and somehow, the older I became, the more certain I felt about it. Biology fascinated me, especially the human brain and the way something so complicated could control almost everything about who we were. I knew becoming a neurosurgeon wouldn’t be easy. It would take years of studying, medical school, long nights, difficult exams, and more patience than I probably had. But whenever I imagined myself standing in an operating room one day, knowing that my hands could help someone whose life depended on me, I felt like all those years would be worth it.

That afternoon, the weather was almost perfect. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, filling the streets with a warm golden light, while a soft breeze moved through the trees beside the sidewalk. It wasn’t too hot anymore, and it wasn’t cold either—the kind of weather that made you want to stay outside a little longer instead of immediately going home. School had finally ended, and I walked through the familiar streets beside my best friend, Mellie. She lived right next to my house, so walking home together had become part of our everyday routine. We didn’t even need to plan it. The moment the final bell rang, one of us would wait for the other, and we’d leave school together as if it had always been that way. Mellie was the kind of person who could talk about ten different things in the same conversation without getting confused. One minute she would be complaining about homework, the next she would be talking about an anime she had started watching, and somehow we’d end up discussing our entire future before we even reached our houses. That day was no different.

“I swear, if our teacher gives us another assignment tomorrow, I’m going to disappear,” Mellie said dramatically as she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

I laughed. “You said that yesterday.”

“And I meant it yesterday.”

“You’re still here.”

“Unfortunately.”

I shook my head, smiling as we continued walking. “You have homework anyway.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“You asked me about homework five minutes ago.”

“I was hoping you’d lie.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

Mellie gave me an offended look before laughing. We kept walking, our shoes making quiet sounds against the pavement as the afternoon slowly became quieter. Around us, people were returning home from work, small groups of students were scattered along the sidewalks, and cars passed occasionally through the street. Everything felt ordinary. Familiar. Safe. I knew every corner of that neighborhood, every little shop, every tree that grew along the road. I knew exactly how many minutes it took to walk from school to my house, and I could probably have made the journey with my eyes closed.

“So,” Mellie said after a moment, “what are you going to do when we start high school?”

“Study.”

She stared at me. “That’s your entire plan?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re impossible.”

I smiled. “I’m serious. I want to get good grades from the beginning. I don’t want to spend the first year trying to catch up.”

“You’re already thinking about grades, and we haven’t even finished this year.”

“Someone has to.”

Mellie sighed dramatically. “Fine. While you’re becoming a genius, I’ll be designing buildings.”

“You still want to become an architect?”

“Obviously.” She looked almost offended that I had asked. “I’ve told you a hundred times.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“Well, there you go. Architect Mellie.”

“Neurosurgeon Abby.”

We looked at each other and laughed.

It was one of those small conversations that didn’t seem important at the time, but I remembered the feeling of it. We were just two girls walking home from school, talking about the future as if we had already planned every detail of our lives. We talked about the universities we might attend someday, the places we wanted to visit, the careers we dreamed about, the shows we were watching, the characters we loved, and all the ridiculous things that happened at school. Sometimes I wondered if our friendship had become part of my routine so completely that I couldn’t imagine my days without it. Mellie had been there for so long that she felt less like a friend and more like a piece of my everyday life.

We were almost home when I slowed down.

I didn’t know why.

Maybe it was the breeze. Maybe it was the sudden feeling that something had changed around me. Or maybe I was simply tired after a long day at school. Whatever the reason, I lifted my head and looked toward the sky.

The afternoon clouds were thin and scattered, leaving large patches of pale blue between them. The sunlight made the edges of the clouds glow softly, and for a few seconds, I simply stared upward.

Then I saw it.

One figure.

It was so far away that I couldn’t make out what it was. At first, I thought it might be a bird, but it was too large. Then I wondered if someone was flying a parachute somewhere above the neighborhood. Maybe it was some kind of plant or object hanging from something I couldn’t see. I blinked several times, trying to make my eyes focus.

What was that?

I rubbed one eye and looked again.

The figure was still there.

It seemed to be moving.

My heart gave a strange little jump.

“Mellie,” I said quietly.

She continued talking without noticing that I had stopped listening.

“Mellie.”

“What?” she asked, still looking ahead.

I pointed toward the sky. “Do you see that?”

She glanced at me for barely a second before continuing her story. “See what?”

“That.”

“What?”

I looked back up.

The figure was still there.

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “There’s something up there.”

Mellie finally stopped walking and looked where I was pointing, but she seemed more interested in figuring out what I was talking about than actually looking carefully.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Look again.”

“I am looking.”

“No, seriously. Right there.”

She squinted toward the sky. “Abby, there’s literally nothing.”

I stared upward again.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe I was exhausted.

Maybe spending the entire day staring at books had finally made me lose my mind.

I was about to look away when the figure moved.

Not slowly.

Not like a bird.

It moved so quickly that my brain couldn’t even process it.

One second, it was far above me.

The next—

Something rushed toward me.

I barely had time to breathe before a figure reached me with impossible speed, and suddenly I was no longer standing where I had been. My entire body froze as I felt someone catch me before I could even understand what was happening.

A voice spoke calmly beside me.

“Got you.”

Everything stopped.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t speak.

For a few seconds, I wasn’t even sure if I was awake.

Then I slowly looked up.

The man standing in front of me was tall, impossibly so compared to anyone I had ever seen. He was dressed completely in black, the dark fabric moving slightly in the evening breeze. His hair was blond—almost golden beneath the fading sunlight—and his eyes were red.

Not brown.

Not dark.

Red.

I stared at him, unable to understand what I was seeing.

He stared back.

And there was something about the way he looked at me that frightened me more than his impossible speed, more than the strange color of his eyes, more than the fact that he had appeared out of nowhere.

He looked at me like he already knew me.

Like he had been waiting for me.

Searching for me.

Not for days.

Not for months.

For years.

For decades.

For something far longer than I could possibly imagine.

And somehow, as I looked into those red eyes, I had the strangest feeling that this wasn’t the first time he had seen me.

It was the first time I had seen him.

But for him—

It seemed like he had been looking for me for a very, very long time.