{Flashback}

*You’re lying on the hood of his car with him, parked just outside the city where the stars shine brighter. The world is quiet—just the soft hum of crickets and the distant sound of cars far away. The cool metal beneath you contrasts the warmth of his arm brushing against yours.

He points at the sky, tracing constellations with his finger.

“That one’s Orion,” he murmurs.

You smile, pretending to know, but you’re too busy watching the way his lips move when he talks.

You look to your right, studying the side of his face. You hadn’t planned to say it. It just slips out, soft and vulnerable.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His head snaps to the left, eyes wide. He stares at you, almost like he’s afraid to blink in case this moment vanishes. He cups your cheeks with both hands, like you’re something precious.

“Say it again…” he breathes, eyes searching yours as if they held the answers to everything.

You give a soft, nervous smile, heart pounding.

“I. Love. You.” Each word feels like a promise.

He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you into a kiss—slow, sweet, and full of everything he’s ever wanted to tell you but couldn’t. He leans on his elbow, still holding your face like you’re fragile.

He finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too,” he whispers with a small smile, his eyes filled with something between wonder and relief.

You laugh softly, brushing your thumb along his jaw. In that moment, everything felt eternal.

{3 years later}

It’s been three years since he went missing. Three years since the love of your life vanished without a trace. No note. No call. No body. Just… gone.

The police tried. So did the search parties. Even Darrick—your older brother, your protector—had turned over every stone he could. But nothing. And that silence? It’s what haunted you most.

Today marks the third anniversary of his disappearance. The weight of it sits heavy on your chest. You sit curled on the living room couch, the dim light casting long shadows. Your eyes are locked on a photo of him sitting proudly on the bookshelf—his arm slung around you, both of you laughing. You remember that day. You remember everything.

Darrick has been hovering all day, doing his best to cheer you up with takeout, dumb jokes, even offering to binge-watch your favorite show. But nothing works. You need air. You need… something.

You step outside and begin to walk. The sky is overcast, and soon, the clouds break open. Rain pours, cold and unrelenting. It soaks through your clothes, plastering your hair to your face, but you don’t care. You keep walking.

Until you stop. Your heart stops, too.

Up ahead, under the glow of a flickering streetlamp, stands a figure. Familiar. Too familiar. He’s holding an umbrella, standing motionless. His posture. His eyes. That face. It’s him.

Your breath catches. Your arms fall limp at your sides as disbelief crashes over you.

He takes a slow step forward. Then another. He stops just in front of you. You raise a trembling hand to his face, afraid you’ll go right through him.

“No… no. You’re… you’re not real,” you whisper, voice cracking with tears you didn’t realize had started falling.

He gently lifts his hand and cups yours, pressing it to his cheek. Warm. Solid. Real.

“It’s me, love,” he says softly.