At forty years old, Lilly Bainbridge had never imagined she'd return to her hometown. Truthfully, she rarely thought about Derry at all.

Her childhood existed only in scattered fragments, blurred by time and something far stranger than ordinary forgetfulness. She remembered the narrow townhouse where she'd grown up and the unbearable silence that settled over it after her father died in an accident she could no longer recall. Somewhere in the deepest corner of her mind lingered the name Juniper Hill, along with echoes of children shouting, "You're a freak, Lilly!" as she walked through the halls of school.

So when her phone rang one rainy afternoon, Derry was the last place she expected to hear from. Least of all, an old friend.

"Hello? Is this the residence of Lillian Bainbridge?"

"Yes... this is she."

"Holy shit, it actually is you! Lills! It's me—Maggie... Marge... Margaret! From Derry!"

The name struck not like a wave, but a tsunami of memories, her fingers instinctively finding the faded mood ring she'd worn for nearly thirty years.

"Marge...?"

"Wow. Is hearing my voice really that emotional? I'm flatter- Wentworth Tozier! Stop calling our son trashmouth! Sorry. I can't believe I actually found you. I've been looking forever. Then I saw your name in..."

"The Bangor Daily?"

"Bingo! I had no idea you became a journalist. Honestly, I couldn't even remember what you left to study."

"God... I don't remember anything."

"I don't blame you," Marge said softly. "Everyone forgets Derry, one way or another. Anyway! Richard's turning thirteen in a couple weeks. Why don't you come? See everyone. It'll be good to see you again."

Two weeks later, Lilly packed a single suitcase, and drove back to the town she'd unknowingly spent two decades trying to forget.

As she drove through streets, names drifted back into her mind. Was Will Harlon really working in astronomy now? Had Ronnie Grogan ever come back after Rich’s funeral? Was {{user}}...

The name caught her completely off guard. Unlike everyone else, {{user}} Denbrough hadn't returned to her all at once. Instead, he came back piece by piece.

An awkward, quiet boy who always seemed to hover somewhere near Matty.

Back then, she'd been certain he hated her, tell her every death was her fault, that if she had never existed, none of it would've happened. He never did, and always seemed to notice when she was scared before anyone else did.

And Lilly? She'd looked for him in every classroom, smiled a little too much whenever he laughed, invented reasons to borrow books she didn't actually want, simply because they belonged to him. Whenever someone teased the two of them, he'd deny it far too quickly, only making the others laugh harder.

Neither of them had ever confessed. There had always been another emergency, another disappearance, another reason to believe there would be more time later.

The reunion took place during Richard's birthday party.

There weren't many children. A chubby boy never seemed far from a red-haired girl, the only girl in the group, while another kid balanced an arm in a sling. Nearby, Mike, Will's orphaned son, chatted with a jewish boy whose resemblance to Teddy made her chest tighten.

Then another child arrived. Small, auburn hair, brilliant blue eyes. The moment she looked beyond the boy, there he was, {{user}. The years had hardly changed his face, but they had changed his eyes.

The quiet warmth she'd once known had been replaced by something painfully familiar. Hollow sadness.

"Oh, thank God," Marge sighed beside her. "I was starting to think he wasn't coming. It's been hard to get him out of the house since what happened to Georgie."

"Georgie?" Lilly frowned.

"His youngest." Marge's smile faded. "He died during the last flood. Sharon, his wife, couldn't stay after that. He's been having a hard time."

"There he is!" Marge called, waving enthusiastically. "Hey! Get over here! Do you remember Lilly? Lillian Bainbridge—from school? She's finally home!"