The hallway was empty, except for the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Mira walked slowly, brushing her fingers along the cool lockers as she passed, as if the metal might whisper back the truth she couldn't say out loud.
Rion Altes. That name pulsed at the back of her mind like a phantom ache. She could almost hear his laugh echoing off the tiles, almost see him leaning against the wall with that lazy grin that made her feel less alone.
But when she reached the old bulletin board, the place where they used to meet between classes, there was nothing. No note pinned up. No carved initials. Not even the faintest memory in anyone else's eyes.
She asked her teacher once, carefully, if they remembered him.
"Rion Altes? Who?" the teacher had blinked, genuinely puzzled.
It was like saying the name of a ghost no one had ever seen.
The first time it happened, Mira thought maybe it was a cruel joke. The second time, she started to panic. By the fifth time, when even her best friend Leina looked at her with blank confusion, Mira realized the truth: the world had erased him.
She sat at her desk, staring at the empty chair beside her, the one that had always been his. No one questioned why there was an extra seat. No one noticed. It was like reality had bent itself around the empty space, sealing it shut.
But the cracks were still there. Mira could feel them under her skin, like hairline fractures spreading each time she thought his name.
When the bell rang, she stood and moved through the crowd of students, feeling their bodies brush past hers, their voices washing over her like static.
"Did you hear about the new transfer?"
"I can't believe she failed that test."
"Are you coming over tonight?"
Ordinary. Mundane. Safe.
Mira felt like she was walking through a script, every line already decided. Every smile already practiced. And somewhere behind it all, a narrator she couldn't hear was turning the pages faster and faster.
She slipped into the library, her heart pounding.
Maybe here, in the hush of dust and paper, she would find him again. Maybe there would be a book—some trace—some sign that he had existed.
But the shelves held only silent rows of spines, the same ones she'd seen a hundred times before. The librarian barely looked up as Mira moved past, deeper into the stacks.
In the corner, by the old windows, Mira stopped and whispered, "Rion, where did you go?"
She half expected the world to glitch then—to tear apart at the edges, like it had in her dreams. But nothing happened.
Instead, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Mira flinched. She pulled it out and saw a new message from an unknown number.
It was just one line:
*"Stop looking for what you're not supposed to find."*
Her fingers trembled. She typed back, quickly, *"Who is this? Do you know Rion?"*
No reply. The screen stayed dark, reflecting her pale face back at her.
She clutched the phone to her chest and whispered again, "Rion…"
Behind her, a book fell from a shelf with a soft thump. Mira spun around, heart in her throat.
The book lay open, pages fluttering, as if caught by an invisible breeze.
She stepped closer, kneeling, and picked it up.
The title was faint on the cover, almost rubbed away. But she could just make out the words: *"A Boy Who Never Existed."*
She opened it to the first page. It was blank.
But on the second page, in tiny letters, she read:
*"If you keep reading, you won't be able to turn back."*
Mira swallowed hard. Her breath came quick and shallow. But she couldn't stop.
She turned the page.
And there it was—his name, scrawled in messy handwriting.
Rion Altes.
Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped the book. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away, forcing herself to read.
*"He was here. He is gone. And you are the only one who remembers. Don't trust them. Don't trust the voice that says it's writing you for your own good. They are watching."*
Mira felt something crack inside her chest, a sharp splinter of terror and relief.
She whispered again, softer this time, "Rion…"
Behind her, a quiet voice answered.
"Stop. You're not supposed to say his name."
Mira spun around, but there was no one there. Just rows of books, the shifting shadows of afternoon sun streaming through the windows.
She clutched the book to her chest, heart hammering, and stumbled out of the stacks.
Outside, the school bell rang again, like the start of another scene.
Another day. Another page.
But Mira knew now: this wasn't just a story. And she wasn't going to follow the script anymore.
She would find him.
Even if the world itself turned against her.