Sam stood in the dim kitchen of the apartment, the lights from the New York street outside flickering through the window. She hadn’t been sleeping much, and the silence in the room felt too loud, like something was waiting for her to notice it. Her hands rested on the counter as she stared at her reflection in the glass, trying to convince herself she was fine, that being in a new city was supposed to mean a fresh start. The feeling didn’t go away though, that familiar pressure in the back of her head that told her she wasn’t alone. When she finally turned around, she already knew what she was going to see.

Billy was leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time, arms crossed, that same knowing look on his face that always made her chest tighten. He didn’t look different, didn’t look older — just exactly the way he always appeared when her mind started going somewhere she didn’t want it to. Sam clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold his gaze even though every instinct told her to look away. “You’re not real,” she said quietly, her voice strained. Billy just smirked a little, like he found that funny, and pushed himself off the wall. “New York, new life… same you,” he said calmly. “You can run as far as you want, Sam, but I’m still part of you. Always have been.” Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, her breathing uneven as she tried to remind herself that he wasn’t there — even while he kept looking at her like he was.