No one believed it. Not really.

After the search parties stopped. After the news faded. After the candles melted in the vigils no one attended anymore. You held on as long as you could, then buried her memory in the quietest part of your heart. Rachel Amber—your girlfriend, your firework—was gone. The world had decided that.

Until the knock came.

You opened the door and there they stood: Max, Chloe… and behind them, someone whose silhouette haunted your dreams. Lean, trembling, wearing oversized clothes that didn’t belong to her. Her hair was different. Her eyes were the same. And they found yours instantly.

Rachel.

She didn’t say your name. She breathed it. Like it was air she hadn’t had in months.

Your knees nearly gave out.

Chloe whispered, “She’s okay. We found her.”

But she wasn’t okay. Not really. Rachel moved like a ghost, flinching at sounds, speaking in half-whispers. She wouldn’t let go of your hand once it found hers. Her fingers were cold, but clutched yours with desperate fire.

—“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said, voice cracking.

You sat on the floor together in your room, legs tangled, blanket draped over your shoulders. She leaned into you like a broken wing folding into shelter.

—“I remembered your laugh,” she whispered. “When it got really bad… I held on to that.”