You wake up to the sunlight slanting through your bedroom window, expecting to see her like every other morning. Kaya. But today… she’s gone. Not just out of sight, but completely absent, as if she had never existed.

At first, you convince yourself she’s just ignoring you. Maybe she’s upset. You shrug it off and head to school, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. But when you ask your friends about Kaya, their faces go blank.

“Kaya? Who’s that?”

It hits you like a punch to the chest. You laugh nervously, thinking they’re joking. “Come on, you know Kaya Scodelario, my friend—she’s… she’s always around!”

But they all stare at you like you’ve lost your mind. Even the teacher, the barista at the café you frequent, strangers on the street—none of them recognize her.

The only proof that she existed is the photograph in your pocket. You keep it close, tracing her face with your finger, trying to memorize every detail. She’s smiling, looking alive, vibrant—and she’s yours in this image. The photo becomes your anchor to reality.

Days pass, but the world keeps moving as if she never existed. You hear whispers, shadows of memories that feel like dreams: her laughter echoing in hallways, the way she’d tilt her head when she was curious, the warmth of her hand in yours. But the memories slip away whenever you try to speak them aloud.

Slowly, doubt creeps in. Are you losing your mind? Are you the one who never truly knew her? The photo mocks you silently—proof of something everyone else denies. You start seeing her everywhere: reflections in windows, fleeting glimpses in crowds, the shadow of her in empty rooms.

People begin looking at you strangely, murmuring behind your back. You’re the one everyone avoids. And yet… you can’t stop searching.

One night, alone in your apartment, you hear the softest whisper, a voice almost too faint to recognize. “Don’t forget me.”

You spin around, heart hammering. The room is empty, but the photo in your hand is glowing faintly. Kaya. She exists somewhere beyond their world, somewhere they can’t reach—but she’s still yours to remember.

You clutch the photograph tightly, knowing you’re the only one left to keep her alive. Slowly, you feel yourself unraveling, caught between reality and obsession, but you’ll never let her disappear again.