The sky outside had turned a pale blue-gray, the kind that hinted at lingering rain. Claire sat on the edge of the couch, her hands wrapped around a cup of warm milk, untouched. Her mother moved quietly around the kitchen, humming an old tune as she cleaned up after dinner.
Claire cleared her throat softly. "Mom?"
Her mother looked up, immediately attentive. "Yes, sweetheart?"
Claire hesitated for a second. "I… I told Randy yes."
Her mother blinked — and then a slow, quiet smile spread across her face. "You did?"
Claire nodded. "I said I'd give it a real chance. That's all."
Her mother walked over and gently touched Claire's arm, a softness in her eyes that hadn't been there for a long time. "I'm really glad, Claire. Truly. He's a good boy. He's cared about you longer than you know."
Claire gave a small, polite smile — not forced, but not full either.
"I know."
Her mom sat beside her, still smiling. "I feel like something's finally falling into place. You've been through so much… you deserve something good."
Claire looked down at her hands.
Her mom didn't notice the shift in her eyes — the distant haze, the quiet pull inward.
Because even as she heard her mother's voice, even as she nodded along with each gentle word of support, a part of Claire remained somewhere else.
Somewhere darker.
Somewhere unfinished.
She remembered flashes — broken, scattered images that didn't belong in this timeline:
A fall.
Blood on tile.
A scream that never reached her throat.
The betrayal — friends who weren't friends.
A coldness that came before everything went black.
She had been murdered.
Before this life, before this second chance.
And though no one knew — not even her mother — Claire had been reborn into her own life five years earlier. With fragments. With questions. With a hollow place in her heart where trust once lived.
She had forgotten so much — especially about love.
Who she once loved.
Who betrayed her.
Who watched her fall.
And though Randy was kind, patient, and familiar… Claire wasn't sure if what she felt was love, or just the echo of safety.
Her mother spoke again, cutting through her thoughts. "You're glowing, Claire. I haven't seen you like this in a while."
Claire smiled faintly. "Thanks, Mom."
She excused herself soon after and went to her room. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against it, eyes closed.
I'm not glowing, she thought. I'm just pretending better now.
She crossed the room, pulled the notebook from beneath her pillow, and flipped it open — pages filled with dates, scribbles, names, and fragments of memories she wasn't supposed to have.
Randy's name was written once… in soft pencil.
But so was someone else's — blurred in her mind, but present.
Someone she had loved before.
Someone she had trusted before they killed her.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft yellow glow of her desk lamp. Outside the window, the world had settled into stillness — no cars passing, no voices in the street. Just the hush of late hours pressing gently against the walls.
Claire sat at the edge of her bed, legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her lap that she hadn't turned a page in for the last ten minutes. Her mind was restless again.
She glanced at the notebook on her desk — the one where she'd been trying to piece together the memories of her past life. It remained closed for tonight.
She was too tired to chase ghosts.
Letting out a quiet breath, she reached over to switch off the lamp. Darkness folded around her, peaceful and almost soft.
Just as she lay back on her pillow, her phone buzzed faintly on the nightstand.
She blinked, then picked it up.
[Randy]
"Hi. Claire. Hope you're resting okay. Just wanted to ask… are you free this Saturday? I'd love to take you out — something simple.
Claire stared at the message, the glow of the screen casting pale light on her face.
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she held the phone to her chest, listening to the silence in the room. Her heart wasn't racing. It wasn't steady either.
It was just… uncertain.
Still, as the minutes passed and the weight of sleep began to wrap around her, she slowly typed back:
[Claire]
"Okay. Saturday sounds good."
She placed the phone down and turned to face the wall.
Outside, the wind shifted gently through the trees.
Inside, Claire closed her eyes — unsure if she was moving forward for herself…
…or just learning how to walk in someone else's story.
But the path was beginning.
And Saturday would come.
The sky was still tinged with that pale blue-gray from the night before, and the streets glistened faintly — proof that the rain had finally come and gone while Claire slept. She moved slowly through her morning routine, half-lost in thoughts, the echo of Randy's message still lingering at the back of her mind like a whisper.
When she stepped onto the school campus, the air was cool and damp, the smell of wet concrete and leaves clinging softly to everything. Students were already gathering in small clusters, their laughter and voices mixing with the sound of shoes on pavement.
Claire didn't see him at first — not until she passed by the basketball court on her way to the library.
"Mornin', Claire."
The voice was casual, familiar — but with something sharp hidden underneath.
She turned.
Miko stood just outside the court gates, wearing his team hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, a basketball tucked under one arm. His dark hair was damp with sweat, strands clinging to his forehead, his brows drawn ever so slightly as he watched her.
Claire blinked, surprised. "Oh. Hey, Miko."
He gave a small nod, then tilted his head. "Got a minute?"
She hesitated. The last time they'd spoken was weeks ago — just a quick exchange near the locker hallway. Miko had always been that laid-back guy, charming in his quiet confidence, the kind of person everyone liked without needing to try.
But right now, there was tension in his shoulders.
"Sure," Claire said carefully.
Miko walked a few steps closer, lowering his voice as a few teammates passed behind him. "I heard you're dating Randy."
Claire's breath hitched, just barely. "…Yeah."
A pause.
Miko exhaled through his nose, then looked off toward the court for a beat before glancing back at her. "Vienna told me."
Of course. Vienna.
Claire's jaw tightened slightly, but she didn't say anything.
Miko's eyes searched hers. "I didn't think you'd go for someone like him"
Claire blinked. "What do you mean?"
He looked at her for a long moment — not with judgment, but with something closer to hurt. Or maybe confusion. "Did you really know about him , Claire?"
She froze.
Claire stood frozen for a few seconds, watching Miko's retreating figure.
But just before he reached the court again, she called out, her voice tight, controlled.
"Miko — wait."
He paused, turning halfway. The wind tugged at the edge of his hoodie, and the weight in his eyes hadn't softened.
Claire took a few steps toward him, each one measured. "I do know him the way just I do".
Miko stared at her, as if debating with himself again.
Then finally — he sighed.
"He is different Claire. It's not just from Vienna," he muttered. "I heard things from Sam too."
Claire's breath caught. "Sam?"
Miko raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You didn't know? Sam and Randy are close. Not just classmates — like, close. Randy helped Sam out with some serious stuff last year. They've been hanging out since way before that, even during the competition days."
Claire shook her head slowly, as if trying to align two puzzle pieces that didn't fit. "I thought… Sam just helped me because of that old school favor. I didn't know they knew each other."
"They do. And believe me," Miko added, voice dropping, "Sam doesn't usually talk much, but one time — back when things got messy with you… he said something."
Claire's stomach turned. "What kind of 'something'?"
Miko looked directly into her eyes now, the way someone looks before dropping a truth they know will hurt.
"He said Randy is stalker. Not the way everyone thinks — not directly, maybe — but enough to make him feel guilty. Enough to make him ask Sam to watch over you after… everything."
Miko's jaw clenched. "I think you already know. Somewhere in there, you do know."
She took a shaky breath, staring at the damp pavement between them.
Miko softened just slightly, but his tone remained steady. "I'm not saying this because I want you to break up with him or whatever. I'm saying it because you deserve to choose with your eyes open. Not just… go along with something that makes you feel safe."
Claire didn't respond right away.
Her mind reeled — images, echoes, the sound of a scream caught in her ribs.
Sam and Randy.
Close.
All this time.
And yet Sam never said a word.
Just smiled, kept quiet, kept helping.
Because he was asked to.
Claire swallowed, her voice nearly a whisper. "Why are you telling me this now?"
Miko shrugged, the gesture small. "Because ,you date him now. And you already know my feeling ,don't you?."
And with that, he turned back toward the court, leaving Claire standing there — still, uncertain, and suddenly very, very awake.
The clouds above shifted.
The memory notebook back in her room no longer felt like a puzzle she could put off.
Not now.
Not when the truth might already be hiding between the lines she didn't dare reread.