Celeste's Apartment
The light from the hallway stretched long across the floor as Celeste leaned against the bedroom wall, her phone in hand but forgotten.
She'd just gotten off the call with Leon. It had only been five minutes, but her heart was still racing like she'd run a marathon barefoot.
She let out a shaky laugh, brushing hair from her face. "Get a grip," she whispered to herself. "You sound like you're thirteen."
But the truth was… being around him always did this. Not just butterflies. Not just nerves.
It was something deeper. Like gravity. Like… home.
She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly—and then it came.
A flash.
It wasn't a thought. Not a dream.
It was a memory.
She was sitting by a lake. Her feet in the water. Someone—Leon?—was behind her, laughing softly, tossing pebbles into the waves.
"You always pretend you're fine. Even when you're clearly falling apart."
Her heart lurched.
She blinked—sharp, like trying to clear fog—and the scene was gone.
Gone, but real.
She grabbed the edge of her desk, grounding herself.
That wasn't today. That wasn't from a picnic with Leon. That wasn't even from anything she could remember.
But she'd felt it.
The cold water. The way her fingers clenched. The lump in her throat as she tried to smile through pain. The voice behind her wasn't quite Leon's—but it was warm, close.
She whispered to herself, "I must be imagining things… because I love him. That's why."
She repeated it, firmer this time, trying to push away the shakiness in her voice.
"I love Leon. That's why I'm imagining these things."
Still… her heart didn't settle.
Because somewhere deep inside, it wasn't just imagination.
It was something her body remembered.
Even if her mind refused to.