Chapter 1 : The First Time I Remembered you
It didn’t feel like a dream. Dreams blur at the edges. They slip when you try to hold onto them. This didn’t. Everything was too clear. Too real. The sky stretched above me in colors I didn’t have names for—deep violet bleeding into gold, like something was burning just beyond it. And I was standing there like I had been here before. Not remembered it—but felt it. Like a memory just out of reach.
“You always look around like that.”
The voice came from behind me.
I turned slowly—
and there he was.
Standing like he’d been waiting.
Not surprised. Not confused.
Just… watching me.
My chest tightened.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me—really looked at me—like he was searching for something that should’ve already been there.
Then he exhaled quietly.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
Something about that felt wrong.
“What does that mean?”
He took a step closer. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Like he already knew the distance between us.
“It means this is the part where you don’t remember me,” he said.
“The part?” I repeated.
He nodded slightly.
“It happens every time.”
Every time.
The words echoed in my head like they were trying to attach themselves to something—but there was nothing there. No memory. No explanation. Just that feeling again—like I knew him.
And I hated that I couldn’t prove it.
“I think I’d remember you,” I said.
He almost smiled. Not amused—something softer than that.
“You always say that.”
Something in my chest pulled tight.
“Then prove it,” I said. “If we’ve met before—prove it.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“You hate the quiet,” he said. “Not because it’s peaceful… but because it makes you think too much.”
My breath caught.
“And when you get overwhelmed,” he continued, “you press your hand right here—like you’re trying to hold yourself together.”
I froze.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve watched you do it,” he said quietly. “More times than you’d believe.”
My chest tightened again.
“Who are you?” I asked.
This time—
he didn’t look away.
“I’m the one who finds you,” he said.
A pause.
“Every time.”
The world shifted.
Not around me—
through me.
“And you,” he added softly,
“you’re the one who forgets.”
The ground beneath me cracked.
Light split through it—sharp, blinding—pulling everything apart.
“Wait—” I said, reaching for him.
He caught my hand.
Tight. Certain.
Like he had done it before.
“It’s okay,” he said, even as everything broke around us.
“This is where it ends.”
My grip tightened.
“Then don’t let go,” I said.
Something in his expression changed.
“You always say that too,” he whispered.
The light swallowed everything.
His hand slipped from mine.
And just before he disappeared—
I heard him say—
“Try to remember me this time.”
Then I woke up.
