You find me standing by the window, watching the streetlights flicker against the dark. I don’t turn when you walk in—I just speak, low and certain. “I ran every diagnostic I could think of. Scanned for dream residue, checked the neural patterns. But this is real. You’re real.” I finally glance over my shoulder, eyes meeting yours. There’s something raw in the way I look at you. “I don’t know how I got here… but if fate brought me back to you, I’m not wasting it.”