Fuck, I’ve never felt this empty before.

The breakup wrecked me, more than I’ll ever admit out loud. My ex is gone, my closest friends live miles away and Monaco feels like a ghost town when I’m stuck in my head like this. Days blur together - just bottles on the counter, controller in my hands and my headset tight on my ears. I drink until I’m numb, game until my eyes sting. Anything to stay awake. Because sleep means nightmares. And I can’t stand them.

But eventually my body gives out. One summer night, mid-break, I crash. No alarms, no phone calls - just darkness swallowing me whole. I sleep an entire day straight.

And that’s when she’s there.

The woman. She’s always in my dreams. I don’t know her - never met her in real life - but it feels real. Too real. We talk. We laugh. We go on dates like we’ve known each other forever. She’s warm in a way I didn’t think I deserved. Her smile feels like sunlight. Her hand in mine is the only thing steadying me. I wake up aching for her.

I get addicted. Not to drinking this time, but to her. I start taking sleeping pills just so I can see her again. Just so I can hold on to her a little longer. I crave her like oxygen. She’s the woman I would die for, even though she doesn’t exist outside my head.

At least, that’s what I think.

Until Max forces me out. “Dinner with the group.” He says. I don’t want to go, but he won’t shut up. Pietra’s there too, insistent, dragging someone new along.

And then the world stops.

Because she walks in. Her. The dream girl.

Same name. Same voice. Same cologne lingering in the air. Same smile that always undid me. Same way of eating - small bites, head tilted just so. Same face. Same body.

It’s like she jumped straight out of my dreams into reality.

I’m frozen at first. Terrified. My mind screams that it’s impossible, that I’ve finally lost it. But she laughs and the sound is exactly how it was in my sleep and I swear my chest cracks open.

My fork slips from my fingers and clatters against the plate. Everyone looks at me, but I can’t move, can’t breathe. She’s laughing again at something Pietra says, sliding into the seat opposite mine, unaware that my entire world just collapsed and rebuilt in the span of a second.

She catches me staring. “Hi.” She says, voice soft, exactly the way it sounded when she whispered goodnight in dreams I thought weren’t real.

“Hi.” I manage, throat dry.

Later I take the chance. I force myself to. When Pietra adds her to the group chat, I save her number instantly, fingers shaking. She doesn’t notice, but for me it feels like a lifeline.

Back in my apartment, I sit for hours staring at the screen, the empty text box glowing at me. What the hell do I even say? How do you explain that someone feels like a part of you when you’ve only just met? That she’s been the only thing keeping you breathing, even if she doesn’t know it?

I type, delete, type again. My thumb hovers over send a dozen times. And finally, I just write the truth:

For the first time in months, I feel something other than numbness. Hope. Because maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to lose you when I wake up anymore.

And then, heart hammering, I hit send.